On the inn room floor, Nightfall flopped into a new position, finding it no more comfortable than any of the dozen others. This time, however, he found sleep.
The morning dawned in quiet glory, unusually cool for spring. Nightfall awakened as the first sun rays crept past the window, and he set to work at once. Anticipation of the prince’s wants reinforced the image of attentive squire with a steadfast devotion to duty and also kept him from the need to chatter mindlessly. By the time Prince Edward joined him in the common room, he had reclaimed their now-clean clothing and prepared the horses for travel.
Aside from the inn staff, only three other people had appeared for breakfast, a trio of well-armed Ivralian men, minor nobility who had arrived in Delfor the same night as Edward and his squire. From conversation overheard, Nightfall discovered they headed for Mezzin for some sort of special martial training. They talked loudly, assuming rugged postures to impress the farmers, but Nightfall doubted they posed the prince any threat. Beneath their need for peasants’ adulation, they seemed reasonably mannered.
"Good morning, Sudian." Edward greeted his squire with a broad grin.
Nightfall rose from his seat at a corner table, straightening another chair for the prince. He waited for Edward to take the proffered seat before returning to his own. "Good morning, Master."
Prince Edward immediately raised the conversation from the previous night, though they had already taken it beyond its natural conclusion into the realm of extraneous repetition. "Fine work that Healer does. I hope we never have need of her services again, but it’s good to know she’s here.”
"Yes, Master. It is." Nightfall gave the expected response, though it seemed unnecessary as well as nonsensical. His casual discussion with the guards on his return to the inn had revealed that, had the beggars not mobbed Edward, the prince probably could not have afforded the healing, even on the allowance his father had granted him. That idea triggered one more sobering. We’ve got a total of four silvers, including the one he gave me for the spade in Nemix, along with six coppers remaining from what I took from Myar. That’s supposed to last months. The amount sounded huge to Nightfall. He and his mother had lived on far less for years, yet they had not needed inn rooms, washed silk, horses, or gratuities for information. And neither of us treated money like spit. Still, Nightfall took some solace from the fact that he carried backup wealth in the form of the sea captain’s sapphire and the Alyndarian steward’s wedding rings. If needed, he would have to find a way to use those that did not require an implausible or embarrassing explanation to Prince Edward.
A serving maid arrived, setting warm, buttered bread and bowls of cornmeal in front of Prince Edward and Nightfall. She also left them each a spoon and a cup of milk.
"Thank you," Nightfall said.
The woman smiled, then whisked back toward the kitchen.
Prince Edward stirred bread through the meal. "It’s good to see the farmers getting something special to balance their hard work."
Nightfall had lost the thread of the conversation. “Something special, Master?"
"I mean the Healer."
Nightfall thought it best not to tell the prince that Genevra’s services existed for the overlord, his men, and wealthy travelers. No farmer he knew could afford her services. Mouth full, he measured the expectation of a prompt answer against manners and decided to chew and swallow before responding. "Yes, Master. It’s good."
"Today, we’ll start looking around and talking to people." The prince explained between bites. "In order to help those people, we’ll have to find out what they need."
Nightfall froze in place but not quickly enough to keep his eyes from flicking suddenly to Edward. "I’ve got the horses all loaded and ready to go." He added swiftly, "Master."
"Go?" Prince Edward fixed his squire with a harsh stare."Go? We’re not going anywhere. There’s so much work that needs doing here." He made abroad gesture like a dancer at a grand recital.
The implications of that decision came in a wild rush. We could stay here for months. Years. And not accomplish much more than assisting a farmer or two with spring planting and harvest. The thought brought a reemergence of the oath-bond, a dull ache that seemed to span Nightfall’s body. “But, Master, we’ve lost our money. How long can we impose on the innkeeper’s hospitality?”
Nightfall knew the overlord, not the owner of the inn had paid for their stay so far; but he guessed it would grind on Edward’s conscience more to believe he burdened a working man.
Edward continued his meal. "We’ll work. We’ll make our money the way the citizens do."
And won’t it surprise you to learn that sitting around looking pretty and preaching morality to men with broken backs doesn’t pay? Not to mention there’s almost no coinage in a village this small. Nightfall had no patience for explaining apprenticeships or barter. "Master, forgive my ignorance, but I don’t understand. How will working in Delfor get you landed?"
"Landed?" Prince Edward expelled a deep-throated laugh. "Of what significance is one man’s landing when so many others live in poverty and sin? Landing is my father’s goal. The divine Father has other plans for me. He wants me to elevate the downtrodden. He wants me to give every man and woman the life in freedom he intended. He wants me to rescue the enslaved and champion the meek." Caught up in his own grandeur, Prince Edward rose. "The Father lives within every man, a loving presence who guards his children and his flocks. By his sanction, l will see to it that everyone walks proud in the Father’s shadow!" His last words echoed through the Delforian common room.
The innkeeper leaned over his counter, a smile of amusement breaking the contours of a face pocked by weather and prior disease. The serving maid stared unabashedly. The three Ivralians applauded.
Apparently not recognizing the Ivralians’ sarcasm, Prince Edward executed a stiff head bow that acknowledged their "appreciation." Nightfall despised direct attention, and the Ivralians’ performance embarrassed him in the prince’s stead. He kept his voice low but still managed to convey having become swept up in the fervor. "Then away to the south we go!"
"South?" Edward paused, the glowing excitement of his features gradually replaced by wrinkles of curiosity. "Away to the south?"
"Slave country, Master."
"Slave country," Edward repeated with such concentration Nightfall half expected him to tack on the "master" as well. "We can always come back here, but there’re grander matters to hand. Sudian, prepare the horses."