The cadets on the ground opened the gate and raised the portcullis, and Nerris and Jhareth escorted Fayla within Gauntlet's walls. There was no one in the yard this time of the evening. The catwalks were empty, the wooden pendulums motionless, the quintains abandoned. Everyone was either eating their dinner in the mess hall or else studying in the dorm towers.

      They found Younger Owen first, and he escorted them to the headmaster's office, where the headmaster sat at his desk. He was lighting several candles as they entered, fierce face glowing in the light.

      "The instructors haven't found anything," he said before they could even ask a question. He eyed Fayla. "I take it you found no sign of Dist either."

      "No," Nerris said, "but this is Fayla. She's a... well--"

       Fayla rolled her eyes. "Whore. You can say it, Nerris. It's not a dirty word to me. Headmaster Owen, I found Dist in an alley early this morning and cared for him."

      Elder Owen raised an eyebrow. "Cared for him?"

      Fayla told her story, and as she did things began to fall into place for Jhareth. If Dist had been laid up with poison in his veins, it was no wonder he hadn't come back to Gauntlet. He nearly groaned when she told them of Dist's intention to track down the assassin. Their blond friend had not been here to be rebuked on recklessness as he and Nerris had.

      "He said the antidote would sap his strength before long," Fayla said, "but he also said the poison... daggergrim? It's out of his blood."

      "Daggergrip," Younger Owen corrected. "Dist did well in looking after himself. I didn't know he had apothecary training."

      "His father was our village apothecary," Jhareth said. "He thought Dist would take over for him one day, so he made sure he was well versed in the trade."

      "Thank you for looking after our cadet, Fayla," Headmaster Owen said. "You are a true friend to Dist, and to Gauntlet."

       Fayla blushed. "I was just concerned when I saw him lying there, that's all."

       "Headmaster, what do we do now?" Nerris asked.

       "You two will get to your tower," Elder Owen said. "Instructor Owen will gather some of his colleagues and head down to the Quaffer's Quiver. Perhaps we'll find Dist, or even flush out this assassin. We can only hope Dist hasn't done anything rash." Younger Owen nodded to his father and left without another word.

        "We can't just do nothing," Jhareth said.

        "You can and will," the headmaster said. "It is now sunset. Retire to your common room, cadets. You can search all you want in the morning. Report here at sunrise and we'll fill you in if we find anything at the Quiver. Hopefully Dist will be back with us by then."

       As he tossed and turned that night, Jhareth wondered if Nerris was restless too. He suspected it was so. Nerris was always thinking, and continuous thinking brought on continuous anxiety. He was probably beating himself up over losing his temper when the assassin  struck him with his elbow. Nerris had called for blood, and he and Dist followed merrily along.

       There were no morning drills, due to the holiday. Jhareth awakened from his fitful sleep a bit later than usual. The Festival of the Saint was surely underway down in the city, but Jhareth was feeling anything but festive. He visited the castle baths and donned a maroon tunic with a mailed fist emblazoned on the chest, a garment cadets were supposed to wear during public events.

       He came back to his common room without even visiting the mess hall to find Nerris, Jodeth, Errin and a few other cadets waiting. "What's all this?" he asked.

       "Dist is our friend too," Errin said. "We'll help you search."

       Jhareth grinned at Jodeth. "No women for us today, huh?"

       Jodeth smiled. "There is always tomorrow."

       When they got to the city, they made for Bendel's Square. They separated into groups, each spreading out in a different direction. Jodeth and Errin went east, second year twins named Dantay and Randil went north, a boy and a girl called Tarran and Reena headed south, which left the west side of the city to he and Nerris.

       The festival was underway, and the crowd had gathered along the main road for the annual parade. A musical procession led the way with drum and flute and trumpet, bookended on either side by blowsy dancers with hiked up skirts. The priests of Clystam in their robes and cassocks came next, leading a chant in front of a decorative float pulled by a team of horses. Atop was the city's High Priest and other luminaries from the Church, blessing the crowd.

       The city's various guilds had their own marches and floats, and even Gauntlet was represented. When the Feigh family's float arrived paper rockets were launched into the air, exploding into a burst of confetti, which dropped down on the cheering onlookers. It seemed to Jhareth that there were a greater than usual cadre of guards surrounding the float, as Lord Gaviel waved to his people along with his mother, brothers and... Jhareth squinted, but didn't see Lord Feigh's sister. Maybe they had left Aledine home. He could scarcely blame the lord if he had.

       "How do we want to do this?" Nerris asked as the Feighs' float moved past Bendel's Square, which had turned into a party all its own. As with any holiday, most used it as an excuse to get drunk, and there was merriment and drink available for all.

       "I'm hoping Dist will know to spot Gauntlet tunics if he's looking for us," Jhareth said. "The parade has moved past the west part of the city now, so the crowd shouldn't be so concentrated on the main road. I say we start there."

       "It sounds like a good--"

       "Guess who?" Blonde curls and pale skin appeared at Nerris's back, covering his eyes with thin hands. Jhareth rolled his eyes.

       "Aledine?" Nerris turned to face the young noblewoman.

       She smiled at him. "I told you I would find you today, Nerris Palada."

       "What are you doing here?" Jhareth asked. "Aren't you supposed to be with your family right now?"

       "I sneaked off," Aledine said. "I saw you two standing around and waved, but you were looking away. "How about that dance, Nerris?"

        She began to lead him toward the center of the square where Bendel's statue stood. Jhareth was acutely aware of the last time they had beheld the statue, when it had slain the demon they unwittingly loosed on the city. He wouldn't have believed a statue could come to life if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. He wondered what Saint Bendel thought of the revels taking place in his name.

        Jhareth put a hand on Nerris's shoulder. "Sorry, but we have things to do."

       "Yes," Nerris said. "Maybe later, Aledine. Dist has been missing for two days, and we need to find him."

       "But Gauntlet has men out searching," Aledine said, "my brother as well. I'm sure he'll be found in no time."

        Jhareth groaned. He had had enough, and all the worry and frustration of the past two days came boiling to the surface. "What is wrong with you!?" he yelled. "Yes, why don't we just drop everything and do what Aledine Feigh wants to do? Dist could be dead, or dying, or hurt, but who cares? Milady has sneaked away despite an assassin intent on killing her brother being at large, and she wants to play."

        "Easy, Jhareth," Nerris said as Aledine shrank back from him.

        "No, Nerris, this needs to be said. Aledine, you may have helped us before, but that does not give you ownership of any of us, including Nerris. You both know you can't be together like you want to be, but you, milady, can't accept the fact that for the first time you can't have what you want. So for the love of Clystam, for a few hours, just leave us be. I beg you."

        Aledine gaped at Jhareth's outburst, and her eyes began to water. "Aledine--" Nerris reached for her, but she brushed his hand away and hiked up the front of her dress, running off into the crowd. Jhareth could hear her sobbing as she left them behind.

        Nerris sighed. "Nice, Jhareth." He ran after her, and Jhareth had no choice but to follow.

***

        Dist awakened to the sound of waves crashing and the taste of salt water in his throat. He glanced around him at the underside of the dock. His boots were wet, but it appeared as if the tide had not drowned him during the night. He sat up, stretching his arms. He felt better, energized, at least more so than he had the previous day. He looked at his palm, where the discoloration was receding and nearly invisible.

       He picked up Fayla's sword from the ground next to him and reached into his tunic, making sure everything was still there. Poyenas and that foppish man had not come back for him, but he remembered their conversation the previous night. The assassin would strike against Lord Feigh today, unless Fayla had gotten his message to Gauntlet. But somehow he doubted Poyenas would be dumb enough to return to the Quaffer's Quiver after being discovered.

       Dist wound his way through the city, through all the dancing and revels. In yesterday's excitement, he had forgotten all about the Festival of the Saint. The streets became more crowded as he approached the city center, where the core of the festival was occurring. Dist slapped himself to combat the wooziness when he nearly wandered into the middle of an archery competition. Bendel and his saint-warriors had been renowned for their fighting ability, and there were many contests sponsored by the Church, including a jousting tournament he had meant to see before all this happened.

        He could have returned to Gauntlet, but it seemed more prudent to try and locate someone from the school in the city. He looked for the red tunics or the Gauntlet fist, but the crowd was too large and surged and shifted as citizens tried to follow the parade or just reach their next drinking destination. When he reached Saint Bendel, Dist climbed up on the pedestal where the statue's huge feet rested. Above the revelers he could see at a greater distance, and visored his hand against the morning sun. He waited and watched, hoping to see someone he knew.

       To the west, his eyes drew to two people running into an alley. He thought he saw crimson tunics, but it could easily have been red or orange. Dist watched, waiting to see if the figures emerged. They didn't, but a few moments later he spotted something else. A cloaked figure with the hood up followed the same path, weaving through the people toward that same block of buildings. The man veered off and instead went around the other side, and Dist got a glimpse of white hair and a pale face.

        He dropped from his perch and charged after the assassin.

***

        Jhareth followed Nerris down the winding paths of Orrigo's back streets, but Aledine had gotten too far ahead of them. As relative newcomers to the city, they were not well acquainted with these winnowed alleys. Nerris was the one so adamant to find the young noble, so Jhareth followed his lead until his friend hesitated at an intersection.

       "For an Agossean lady, she hustles like a Faerlene cutpurse," Jhareth said. "Do you want to split up?"

       Before Nerris could answer, they heard a scream from the east. They took the right path and rounded the corner, coming to an open space between the back doors of two run down buildings. Aledine was there, struggling to free her arm from the grip of a stranger. Even with his hood up, there was no mistaking the white hair and pale skin.

        "Poyenas!" Nerris drew his blade. "Is this what it has come down to? Taking hostages?"

        The assassin gave them a contemptuous glance. If he recognized them from the morning at Lord Feigh's stables, he gave no hint on his stony face. "I always carry out a job, no matter what. By all accounts, Lord Feigh is a family man. Surely he would be willing to trade his own life for his sister's."

        Poyenas drew a long blade from the folds of his robe, and Jhareth brandished his own steel, a shortsword all cadets were required to wear in public. "We're armed this time, assassin, and we know who you are. If you don't release the lady, you'll be hunted to the ends of the earth by House Feigh and Gauntlet."

        Poyenas drew Aledine against his body, holding his blade to her throat. "Armed or not, I could kill both of your where you stand. But I have other business first. Do not attempt to follow me."

        He backed farther down the alley, and Jhareth's sword hand itched. He wanted nothing more than to rush the assassin, but neither he nor Nerris could take the chance of the albino doing something drastic to Aledine. As Poyenas approached the end of the street, another figure stepped from the shadows. Dist's hair and clothes were filthy, but he had a shortsword in hand as well, pointed right at Poyenas's back.

        "Think you can take all three of us?" Dist asked.

        Poyenas barely cast a glance about him. With a frustrated grunt, he hurled Aledine into one of the buildings. She cried out as her head struck stone and crumpled to a heap on the ground. She lay there unmoving, and the assassin stood in front of her, guarding his quarry with his blade extended.

        Nerris and Jhareth moved forward, but Dist held up a hand. "This is my fight," he told them.

        Poyenas sneered. "Foolish cadet. You think overmuch of yourself."

        Dist charged forward and his blade met with the assassin's. Sparks flew as they battled back and forth over Aledine's unconscious body, kicking up dirt as they went. Jhareth noted that Poyenas was ferocious in his attacks, but clumsy. Men who killed others in their sleep or from the back didn't necessarily make the best fighters when confronted openly.

       Where the assassin left himself open, Dist took the opportunities, just as their instructors had shown them. However, Poyenas was also quick, avoiding all of Dist's slashes, which were as unpolished as a first year cadet's would be. The assassin eventually drove Dist back against a wall and shot out his free hand to strike Dist in the face. Dist caught the blow and they grappled, blade to blade and hand to hand.

       Having known Dist for years, Jhareth saw the next blow coming, but there was no way Poyenas could have. Dist drove Poyenas's blade down with his own sword and lunged forward, headbutting the albino right between the eyes. Poyenas staggered back, but Dist didn't press his attack.

       "Two can play the poison game, assassin," Dist said. "It's been my pleasure to pay you back in kind."

       Poyenas cast Dist a confused glance, but then raised his hand, the one he tried to strike Dist with. Even from across the alley, Jhareth could see the purple discoloration in the assassin's palm. Poyenas looked back and forth from his hand to Dist, as if trying to make sense out of it. "You..." Poyenas clenched his teeth. "You... You..."

       With a  roar, the albino lunged at Dist. His strikes came faster and with more precision, but Dist checked every one of them. Poyenas tried a wild swing that would have taken Dist's head had he been there to receive it. Their blond friend ducked, and suddenly the assassin's blade flew from his hand as he struck cold stone instead of flesh.

       Dist wasted no time with his upward stroke, which caught Poyenas above the collarbone. Gore flew from the wound in his throat, and the assassin fell to the ground, making choking noises. He soon lay still in the dirt, blood pooling around his mangled neck.

       Nerris ran to check on Aledine while Jhareth inspected Poyenas's hand. "Where in the world did you get a hold of daggergrip?" he asked Dist.

       Dist shrugged and went into his pocket, holding out a vial with some blue liquid inside. "I didn't. I borrowed this hair dye from Fayla. I had it in my hand and smeared it on his when he tried to hit me. It only looked like the effects of poison."

       Jhareth grinned. "It sure enraged him, all right. Done in by affects from a whore's cosmetic kit. I like it."

       "I knew he had the experience on me, so I tricked him into losing his head. It's like Instructor Owen said. Discipline trumps pure rage."

       Dist walked toward Nerris to help him with Aledine, but the noblewoman was starting to come around. She moaned and held her head as Nerris helped her to her feet. Aledine sported a bruise on her forehead, but otherwise seemed to be undamaged.

       "Are you all right, my lady?" Nerris asked.

       "It's Aledine, Nerris, remember?" she said, rubbing at her temple.

        Dist chuckled. "I think she's fine."

7. Facing the Music

       The throngs of festival goers barely noticed Nerris, Dist and Jhareth as they made their way out of the back alleys. Jhareth and Dist led the way to the east end of the city, where the parade's ultimate destination lay. Nerris walked behind them, helping Aledine along, though she quickly recovered from her fall.

       "Thank you all so much," she said. "Everything happened so fast. That man just came out of nowhere--"

       "Are you sure you're not hurt?" Nerris asked. "That's a nasty bump on your head."

       "Well, I suppose I do feel a little faint." Aledine rested her head on Nerris's chest, and allowed herself to be helped along with his arm around her shoulders. Jhareth rolled his eyes.

       Apparently the Feigh family had finally noticed Aledine was missing, because they found them at the end of Trader's Way giving orders to their guards. When Lord Gaviel spotted them, he broke away from his men and made his way over. Lady Sessa, Aledine's mother, spotted them as well. She gasped when she saw the bump on Aledine's head, along with her dirty dress and disheveled hair. Nerris delivered her into her mother's waiting arms.

       "My little girl!" Lady Feigh said. "What happened?"

        Aledine embraced her mother. "I'm all right, Mother. Nerris and the others saved me again."

       "What happened?" Lord Feigh repeated his mother's question to them.

       "She got away from us, and the assassin found her," Nerris said. "He said he was going to trade her for your life, milord."

       "Where is he now?"

        Jhareth and Nerris looked at Dist. "Dead," Nerris said. "Dist slew him."

       "Really?" Lord Feigh clasped hands with Dist, eyeing his filthy appearance. "It appears you've had a rough time of it. Well done, Dist. It appears my family owes you a great favor. To all of you, for once again looking after my sister."

        Lord Feigh sent men out to find the Owens, and they turned up soon afterward. Dist told them of what had happened to him since the morning before, and Nerris related his and Jhareth's minimal part in the day's heroics.

        "That was really stupid, confronting Poyenas alone like that," Younger Owen said to Dist. "You're lucky you're still alive."

        "I know." Dist bowed his head. "It is only due to your lessons I was able to survive, Instructor."

        "Do not think flattery will buy your way out of this," Elder Owen said. "You three still have punishment coming for your follies."

        Jhareth winced. Dist hadn't yet been reamed by the Owens like he and Nerris had, and he hoped they would be spared a second round of chastisement.

        "Surely their good intentions must be taken into account," Lord Feigh said. "My family and I are safe for the nonce thanks to them, and my wayward sister."

        Elder Owen nodded. "I assure you, Lord Feigh, Gauntlet forgets no foolhardy acts, nor good deed done."

        Lord Feigh smiled at them. "Then I leave you to attend to yours, and me to mine." The lord and his guards walked back toward Aledine, who was now being thoroughly reprimanded by Lady Sessa.

        "Dist, you are to be in the headmaster's office at first light," Younger Owen said. "We have a few things to say to you that your friends have already heard. And all of you, make sure to enjoy the rest of the festival. The rest of your week will not be nearly as pleasant."

         Dist swallowed, Nerris hung his head and Jhareth's shoulders slumped. "Yes, Instructor," they said in unison.

        The Owens left them, and Jhareth clapped Dist on the shoulder. "Glad you aren't dead."

        "Same to you," Dist said. "The Owens haven't killed you two yet, so I have some hope for myself."

        Nerris grinned. "What do we do now? The festival has only started."

        "First I need a tub full of hot water," Dist said, brushing the grime from his tunic. "Then I have some things to return to a certain lady of the night."

        Jhareth sighed. "I was supposed to be the one meeting whores. How could this happen?"

        Nerris shook his head. "Easy come, easy go."

***

       From a distance, the Owens watched as Nerris, Dist and Jhareth discussed their plans for the rest of the day. "What do you think of our new prodigies?" Elder Owen asked his son.

      "Nerris and Jhareth have shown remarkable talents in cunning and combat, but I wasn't sure about Dist until now," Younger Owen said. "Not many could take down a man like Poyenas, even if they were his equal in skill. I think we will need to take an interest in them. It is not every day one cadet with such talent, resilience, loyalty and passion walks in our halls, much less three."

       "They are a bit wild, however. These past two days have proven that."

       Younger Owen smiled. "You've said it yourself many times, Father, about many boys and girls." He looked at Dist. "It's like turning ore into steel. Some need to be smelted." He looked at Jhareth. "Some need tempered." Finally, his gaze went to Nerris. Lady Aledine had broken away from her mother and was clinging to his arm, but Nerris didn't appear to mind. "Others just need to be dunked in cold water once in a while."

        The headmaster chuckled. "I don't recall saying that last bit."

        "The wisdom is yours, Father. I can only hope to improve upon it."

        Elder Owen's face grew more serious as they walked away from Nerris, Dist, Jhareth and Lord Feigh's contingent. "Still, there's this assassination attempt as well. Willingly or not, those three... thrillseekers have dragged us into it. I'm concerned about this foppish man Dist described. Only a prominent and powerful man has the coin to hire one such as Poyenas."

        "And he won't be easily replaced," Younger Owen said. "We have some time. Do you have an idea who could be behind it?"

        "Yes. He has finally made his first move. Only Clystam knows how we come out in all this."

        Younger Owen nodded solemnly as they passed through the merriment and music of the festival on their way back to Gauntlet. Lord Feigh had his battles to come, and they had their own responsibilities. All they could do was prepare for every possibility.

© Copyright 2026 Nicholas Andrews. All rights reserved.