Volume One: Forest Knight Chapter 81: The Rogue’s Apprentice

Seeing the warm approval in Berion’s eyes, the boy, encouraged, went on.

“And besides, when I tried to steal from you, it was not because I wanted money. I only wanted to share the Fire God’s blessing that rests on you.

“My mother has been ill for quite some time. Though these past two months she has been able to get out of bed and move about a little, she is still terribly weak. I want her to recover sooner, but the apothecaries cannot be trusted, and the priests in the city will not help the poor.

“But you, Lord Berion, are the victor of the trial by combat. Through you, the will of the Fire God was made known to all. You bear the great blessing of the Fire God, and the ornaments you wear must be blessed as well.

“So I thought... if I could steal one thing from you and let my mother wear it, then with the Fire God’s blessing upon her, her health would surely improve soon.”

Though Huck’s reasoning was foolish, one could not deny that he was a good and dutiful son.

After hearing him out, Berion was deeply moved all the same. He patted Huck on the shoulder and said, “Wanting your mother to recover quickly is no bad thing. You need only have told me. I am not a man without understanding or compassion.”

Huck looked at him gratefully and said with excitement, “Then, my lord, may I take one of your pendants home and let my mother wear it for a while?”

Berion shook his head.

“This golden eagle pendant was made for me by my mother when I was sent to Valonbray City to serve as a knight’s squire. When my father took me there, my mother gave me this ornament, fashioned after our family crest, and hung it with her own hands from my little belt.

“To this day I still remember what she said as she fastened it on me. She told me that a child is a mother’s dearest flesh, and no matter how far I went, she would always think of me, and every day she would pray to the Fire God for my health and happiness.

“She also made me promise that I must wear this golden eagle every day. So long as it remained with me, she would be able to sense me, and the blessing she had begged from the Fire God would continue to stay by my side.

“Huck, you too are loved by your mother, and you too love your mother dearly. Tell me—how could I give such a thing away?”

Huck shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. Full of remorse, he said, “My lord, I am sorry. Had I known, I would never have tried to steal it. Please forgive the mistake I made in my desperation.”

As he spoke, he moved to bow again in apology, but Berion quickly reached out and stopped him, smiling.

“By the way, there is still something I want to ask you. I am rather curious—at your age, your thieving skills are remarkably good. By rights, your mother could never have allowed you to become a thief.”

At this, Huck’s little face flushed red. Embarrassed, he said, “Of course my mother would never let me become a thief. If she knew I had stolen, she would never forgive me.

“After she fell ill and could no longer work at the tavern to earn money, she told me that she would rather eat the leftovers I brought back from the tavern each day than see me become a thief—or worse, a robber.

“Once, I stole two silver coins from a guest at the tavern and used them to buy a roast rabbit and a jug of milk. I told my mother I had bought them with money I found on the ground, but she did not believe me. She refused, absolutely refused, to eat anything bought with unclean money.

“After that, I never stole from anyone again. I worked to earn what I could, and gathered what clean food I could from the tavern. That is how we have struggled on.”

“Your mother is a woman worthy of respect,” Drew said with feeling.

Berion nodded in full agreement, then continued, “But you still have not answered my question. How did you come by such excellent thieving skills? And at the gate in the alley—you moved with no small agility. Who taught you that?”

Seeing that Berion would not let the matter drop, Huck bit his lip and hesitated for a long while before speaking.

“Lord Berion, I cannot tell you my master’s name. I promised him, and I swore an oath. I cannot break my word. But I can tell you how I came to know him, and how he taught me all these skills.”

“Good! Good! I want to hear it,” Bran said eagerly, like a child waiting for a story.

Berion lightly smacked the boy on the head. “You little rascal, stop interrupting. Stand there and listen properly.”

Bran rubbed his head, grinning, then dragged over two stools for Berion and Huck to sit on, while he and Drew stood quietly at Berion’s side.

“Lord Berion, my master may have been a thief, but he was a chivalrous thief. For three years he taught me, and during those three years I followed him in stealing from wealthy merchants and nobles.

“But each time, aside from the little portion we kept for ourselves, my master would divide up the money and throw it into the homes of us poor folk in the slums. Sometimes he would also donate some to the convent beneath the Church of Janviksor, the one that takes in orphans.

“My father was a drunkard and died when I was barely old enough to remember him. But after I met my master, I finally understood what it felt like to have a father. Those three years were happy days for me. Though he never showed mercy when he trained me, he truly cared for me.”

As Huck spoke of his master, his face shone with a happy smile.

“Is your master still in Janviksor now?” Berion asked.

Huck shook his head. “One day, two years ago, he told me he was going on a long journey. He said it might be a very long time before he returned—and that perhaps he would never return at all. That day he told me that if two years passed and he still had not come back, I was to buy a roast rabbit, bring a jug of Sarion wine, and throw them into Janviksor Bay.”

“Ah? Why?” Berion asked in surprise.

“Because if he had not returned after two years, it would mean his plan had failed, and he had probably been killed. Tossing the wine and roast rabbit into the sea would count as mourning for him.”

Berion stroked his chin. Huck’s master struck him as a truly extraordinary man. If fate ever allowed them to meet, Berion thought he would gladly call such a person a friend.

With that in mind, he asked, “Huck, do you think your master is still alive?”

“Uh...” Huck lowered his head, looking dispirited.

Then suddenly he lifted it again, his eyes firm as he looked at Berion. “I believe he is still alive. A man as capable as he is would never be killed so easily.”

Berion rose, walked over to him, and patted him on the back. “I believe so too. A good and upright man, a man of true skill, will not be slain so lightly. The great Fire God will watch over him.”

Hearing this, Huck smiled gratefully at Berion, accepting it as a blessing offered for his master’s sake.

“It is getting late now. You should go home. Your sick mother ought not be left alone too long,” Berion said.

As he spoke, he took out his purse, counted ten silver coins from it, and held them out to Huck.

At once Huck waved his hands and refused. “Lord Berion, your forgiveness for my vile conduct is already a mercy beyond measure. How could I possibly take your money? Besides, if I carry those silver coins home, my mother will think I stole again, and she will be upset.”

Berion burst out laughing and pressed the money into his hand anyway. Then he removed the triangular wooden charm from around his neck and gave it to Huck as well.

“Then tell your mother this: that at the tournament grounds you met Sir Berion, champion of the trial by combat, and that your plea moved him, so Sir Berion bestowed these upon you as a reward.”

Huck stood there stunned. Berion smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Go on now. Buy something good to eat and drink, and bring it back to honor your mother. If fate is kind, we shall meet again.”

With that, Berion turned and left with Bran and Drew. After all, his dancing still required practice. For the moment he had only just become familiar with it; he was still far from being able to move through an entire banquet with ease.

After returning to his lodgings, Berion and Drew rested briefly, then resumed their lessons. The next day as well, Berion practiced with Drew from morning to night. By the morning of the banquet itself, he had mastered the steps well enough. The dances of this age were not especially difficult; they consisted chiefly of a handful of movements repeated in various combinations. When the time came, all he needed to do was follow his partner.

Besides, dancing was only one part of the feast. Important, yes, but hardly the most important. And in any case, even if Berion danced poorly, no one would dare say much. Here, after all, was the man who had defeated Sir Sogg. No one would be foolish enough to demand that a knight mighty enough to win victories on horseback must also descend from the saddle and glide through dazzling steps.

He spent the morning dancing until he had worked up quite a sweat. In the afternoon, Berion washed himself thoroughly with scented soap, shaved, and cleaned himself up properly. When he raised an arm and sniffed at his skin, he decided it was not bad at all. In fact, he smelled rather good.

Then he put on the clothes Jessis had made for him with her own hands and studied himself in the bronze mirror. He was very pleased with what he saw: youthful, handsome, striking, and with a rugged air besides. Surely this was the very image of a perfect man.

Just as Berion was admiring himself in the mirror, Bran came in. Seeing him standing there in a daze, the boy asked curiously, “My lord, have you seen a fairy? Why are you staring at the mirror like that?”

At the word fairy, Berion’s mood of self-worship vanished at once. He nearly choked on the spot.

He shot Bran a vicious glare and snapped, “You little brat, your lord was admiring his peerless beauty, and you come in only to ruin it. Now get out at once and bring the horse around.”

After giving Bran a proper scolding, Berion turned back to the mirror. His appearance was exactly the same as before, yet after Bran’s talk of fairies, he could no longer convince himself that he was some flawless divine idol of beauty.

Count Gri’s residence stood on a rise in the western part of Janviksor City. From within the count’s estate, one could look out over Janviksor Bay.

When Berion arrived with his invitation, Bran accompanying him and carrying the gift, the sun was already sinking. Standing within the count’s grounds and gazing toward the distant sea, he saw a red sun drifting toward the horizon, its light falling across the waters and shattered by the waves into floating fragments of gold.

And beyond, seabirds wheeled over the water while merchant vessels and fishing boats made for the harbor outside Janviksor. In the glow of sunset, the scene held a kind of vast beauty that was difficult to put into words.

After watching for a while as the sea embraced the falling sun, Berion entered the banquet hall with Bran, who still carried the gift in his hands. By then many guests had already arrived. Men and women dressed in splendid finery stood in small groups, wine cups in hand, talking and laughing together.

In the dance floor at the center of the hall, the musicians had already taken their places and were playing gentle music to soothe those awaiting the opening of the feast. A few young couples had even begun to dance already, moving to the soft and measured rhythm.