Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Ten - Liaisons

"Your carriage is ready, Sir." Master Léac's boy entered his office.

"I thought I told you to knock first, fool." Travel preparations always irritated Léac. How much easier business would be if it were a mere question of negotiating, of buying and selling ─ the game itself. But he knew that such journeys were a part of the game, and at this particular stage he was about to make his sharpest play so far.

"Sorry, Sir." The boy's face flashed with fear.

"You will be."

Léac's thoughts returned to his negotiations with Bruno Nérac, Lord of Dal Reniac. Success would ensure exclusive rights to imports travelling south: a licence to act as agent between the North and Colvé. Now was the time to play that extra card, the one he had held back, waiting for the perfect moment ─ Meracad. A marriage would confirm his commitment, and it would complicate Nérac's future attempts to renege on the agreement.

Besides, his Lordship was first grade aristocracy ─ the as yet unmarried son of the House of Nérac, a lineage that could be traced back for centuries. Of course the aristocracy were penniless snobs who flaunted their heritage because they had nothing else left. But such an alliance would bring all the privileges of high station. Who now would dare to laugh at Léac ─ the arriviste, the apprentice made good?

Anyway, he reasoned, it was time to play that card. The older she was, the less marketable she became. Even worse, he thought with bitterness, was the prospect that she might follow in her mother's footsteps. She had grown restless over the past few years, and more ready to question him.

In recent months, she had taken to visiting the city alone ─ only a few trips to the market, it was true, but worrying nevertheless. She had visited the baths without his permission that very morning. If she should go her mother's way, she would be worse than useless to him.

A memory rose, unbidden. Screaming ─ a body tumbling down stairs, breaking as she hit the lower rungs. The light fading from her eyes as she lay in his arms dying, craving forgiveness.

Cursing, he willed the vision away. No, he decided, his thoughts scrabbling around business once again. The sooner this deal was finalised, the better. His major asset was becoming a liability.

The boy scurried downstairs, Léac slowly following. Meracad was waiting for him in the courtyard, arms crossed and head held high, a strange confidence about her, the source of which she would never reveal to him. Not that he cared.

"Behave," he ordered sternly.

"I always do," she countered.

The carriage pulled into the courtyard, and Léac climbed in. "I'll know if you don't," he said, ignoring her. He banged on the carriage roof. "Ride on."

Grimacing, the merchant settled down against the plush upholstery of the carriage. It would be a long ride north, he realised. But when he came back, he would wipe that strange smile off her face.

***

"Take it, girl, go on."

Beric shoved a bag of coins into Hal's hands. "I may be mean, but I'm not a thief. Go on, take it, it's yours – thirty percent of the last duel."

She thrust the money away and turned her back on him. "If you don't mind, Beric, I need to train."

"I won't beg you, girl." His voice grew sharp. "But if you don't take this you'll be living off the Senator's charity. Think how embarrassing that will be."

Sometimes, Beric had a knack of tugging at exactly the right strings. Sighing, she dropped her sword back into the rack and stared at the bag which he swung between his fingers and thumb like a pendulum. "Alright!" She swiped it off him. "Anything to avoid sponging off Marc. But that doesn't mean you were right."