Assassins' Dawn by Stephen Leigh Page B

flashed and met, clashing with a faint, bell-like ringing.
    The bells for evening meals had just rung. Aldhelm had brought the Thane’s dinner to him, dismissing the apprentice that usually performed that task. He sat the tray on the Thane’s table, setting the controls to “warm” so that the meat remained hot. Fragrant vapors filled the room.
    “Aldhelm?” the Thane said in some surprise. “Since when do you perform apprentice’s tasks? You’re nearly a full Hoorka.”
    “I had a favor to ask, a boon.” His voice, usually so confident, was slow and unsure, halting.
    “Ask, then.”
    A hesitation. “You’ll sponsor me for my mastership in the Hoorka, be my kin-father?” Aldhelm said the words in a rush, the words falling over each other in their haste to leave his mouth. But his eyes—they held the Thane, and there was open affection there, and an unusual vulnerability that was foreign to Aldhelm.
    Knowing what he was going to say, that openness hurt the Thane more than he thought possible.
    “I’ve never sponsored any journeyman, Aldhelm.” He said the words slowly, hoping that Aldhelm might reconsider and withdraw the request himself, and knowing that it wouldn’t happen that way.
    Aldhelm frowned. He looked down at the floor and then up to the Thane. “I realize that. That’s why I’ve waited so long to ask.” A vague smile touched his lips. “You’ve spoken well of me, and we like each other. I would like your sponsoring. It would mean much to me.”
    “I”—a pause—“can’t.”
    Aldhelm was stoic. His stance was as erect as before, his body betraying no disappointment. Yet something had changed: his eyes were guarded now, and perhaps too moist.
    The Thane hastened to explain. “If there were a journeyman I would take as kin-son, it would be you, Aldhelm. Truly. But I don’t care to have the Hoorka become like other guilds, where the kin-son of the guild ruler inherits his father’s position. The best Hoorka should always rule Hoorka, and all the kin should have some say in who governs them. If I were to name a son or daughter, it would be a statement, an indication of favoritism. It’s easier if I simply avoid that.”
    The Thane stared at Aldhelm, but the young man simply gazed back at him, his eyes unreadable and untouchable. “Do you understand? Aldhelm, I don’t wish to hurt you—as I said, were I to sponsor anyone . . .”
    “I understand, Thane.” Aldhelm shrugged and began to leave the room.
    “Aldhelm . . .”
    “Yah?” The Hoorka turned and faced the Thane.
    “What of Bronton? He admires your skill as much as I, and he is well-liked among the kin. He would sponsor you, and it would be to your credit.”
    “Thank you for your concern, Thane.” Again, the shrugging of shoulders. A smile came and vanished, tentative. “I’ll ask him.” And with that, Aldhelm turned and left.
    The Thane stared at the tray of food on his table for long minutes before beginning to eat.
    The dancers, in a flourish of weapons, left the dais. A journeywoman attired in saffron robes intoned the benediction. An audible sigh crossed the Chamber, and with a rustling of cloth, the Hoorka-kin rose and began to leave. The Thane stretched and rose as Cranmer and Valdisa stood beside him.
    “He slept well, didn’t he, Valdisa?” Cranmer placed his hands below his head in imitation of a pillow and closed his eyes.
    “Our Thane?” Valdisa smiled. “He has an excuse, having taken the contract last night.”
    “Both of you are mistaken. I simply concentrate better with my eyes closed. Prayer, after all, is a mental effort. Neh, scholar?” The Thane yawned, involuntarily, then joined in with the laughter of the other two.

Chapter 6
    A LARGE GATHERING HAD CROWDED en masse before the Assembly Hall after marching noisily from Tri-Unity Square. A few flat-signs proclaimed various guilds’ support of one obscure issue or another, but the guards ranked on the steps to the Hall didn’t