tunelessly and swinging his pack as if it weighed nothing. Suddenly, he dashed to the far side and rummaged in the tall grass for something.
“Hey, you!” shouted one of the Guardsmen, coming to a halt and motioning the other two to do likewise. Traz ignored them, or seemed to at any rate, but I saw his shoulder muscles tighten. “Boy!”
I sucked in my breath. It was the same Guardsman who’d captured me in the woods! A boulder of fear settled in my stomach, and my thoughts spun. The Guardsman’s horse put back its ears. I realized I’d better control myself. It would be the ultimate irony if this unwanted maejic gave my presence away.
Traz snatched at something on the ground and stood up straight, a wide grin on his face. He turned to face the soldiers, who were all scowling down at him. “Pretty, pretty,” he said, slurring his words a little. Then his eyes widened and his mouth made a small “o” as if he’d only just become aware of the others. One of the horses snorted.
“Where’s your friend?” demanded the Guardsman. My heart leapt to my throat. They’d seen me, too!
“Horsey pretty. Nice horsey.”
“I asked you where your friend is.” I shivered at the man’s ugly tone.
Traz hunched his shoulders and glanced around, a look of fright on his face. “Friend? No friends.” And he winced. Despite my fear, I couldn’t help smiling at his dissembling.
“I saw someone else.” Mentally, I tried to urge Traz to go carefully.
Tears welled up in his eyes. “No friends.”
“Search the trees!” snapped the Guardsman.
The Royal Guard has a long history as a highly respected, elite corps responsible for protecting the king, his family, and his royal residences. To be assigned to the palace at Alloway is the penultimate honour for a Royal Guardsman, and duty as a member of the king’s Personal Guard the highest.
The captain of the king’s Personal Guard sits in the King’s Council, though he has no vote. And while kings have no obligation to follow the captain’s advice, they often seek it. After all, a military perspective can provide a valuable counterpoint to a political one.
For example, Bellius, captain of the Personal Guard of King Frow, Seventeenth Absolute Monarch, counselled him to abandon a plan to attack Ultria. Captain Bellius had received intelligence that the Ultrian army had secretly built up its defences in the Martemont Mountains.
Enraged that his captain would thwart his purposes, King Frow determined to execute the man the very next day. In the morning, Captain Bellius, having set his affairs in order and bid a final, sad farewell to his wife and young children, presented himself at the throne. Much to his surprise, King Frow embraced him, raised him up, and pinned a golden rose on his breast: the highest military honour the king can bestow.
~From The Book of Lore
I stopped smiling. I wanted to run but knew I must stay frozen. Any movement on my part would draw their attention. If the beating of my heart didn’t.
“Aw, c’mon,” said one of the other men, “he’s just a stupid half-wit. I didn’t see no one. Did you?”
The third one shook his head. “It’uz probably just that bag he’uz swinging around.”
“No friends,” Traz said yet again as he broke into heart-wrenching sobs.
“Let’s just move on. If we keep moving we can make the next town in time for a hot supper with our ale.”
The first Guardsman’s horse stamped as if it, too, were impatient to move on. Or as if it sensed me. I tried to freeze my thoughts.
The Guardsman himself peered into the trees first on one side of the road and then on the other. “All right,” he finally growled. “But you, you stupid brat,” he snatched his riding crop and in less than the blink of an eye brought it down on Traz’s upturned face, “you get yourself back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” He raised his crop to strike again, but Traz had fallen to the ground covering his face with his
“Hey, you!” shouted one of the Guardsmen, coming to a halt and motioning the other two to do likewise. Traz ignored them, or seemed to at any rate, but I saw his shoulder muscles tighten. “Boy!”
I sucked in my breath. It was the same Guardsman who’d captured me in the woods! A boulder of fear settled in my stomach, and my thoughts spun. The Guardsman’s horse put back its ears. I realized I’d better control myself. It would be the ultimate irony if this unwanted maejic gave my presence away.
Traz snatched at something on the ground and stood up straight, a wide grin on his face. He turned to face the soldiers, who were all scowling down at him. “Pretty, pretty,” he said, slurring his words a little. Then his eyes widened and his mouth made a small “o” as if he’d only just become aware of the others. One of the horses snorted.
“Where’s your friend?” demanded the Guardsman. My heart leapt to my throat. They’d seen me, too!
“Horsey pretty. Nice horsey.”
“I asked you where your friend is.” I shivered at the man’s ugly tone.
Traz hunched his shoulders and glanced around, a look of fright on his face. “Friend? No friends.” And he winced. Despite my fear, I couldn’t help smiling at his dissembling.
“I saw someone else.” Mentally, I tried to urge Traz to go carefully.
Tears welled up in his eyes. “No friends.”
“Search the trees!” snapped the Guardsman.
The Royal Guard has a long history as a highly respected, elite corps responsible for protecting the king, his family, and his royal residences. To be assigned to the palace at Alloway is the penultimate honour for a Royal Guardsman, and duty as a member of the king’s Personal Guard the highest.
The captain of the king’s Personal Guard sits in the King’s Council, though he has no vote. And while kings have no obligation to follow the captain’s advice, they often seek it. After all, a military perspective can provide a valuable counterpoint to a political one.
For example, Bellius, captain of the Personal Guard of King Frow, Seventeenth Absolute Monarch, counselled him to abandon a plan to attack Ultria. Captain Bellius had received intelligence that the Ultrian army had secretly built up its defences in the Martemont Mountains.
Enraged that his captain would thwart his purposes, King Frow determined to execute the man the very next day. In the morning, Captain Bellius, having set his affairs in order and bid a final, sad farewell to his wife and young children, presented himself at the throne. Much to his surprise, King Frow embraced him, raised him up, and pinned a golden rose on his breast: the highest military honour the king can bestow.
~From The Book of Lore
I stopped smiling. I wanted to run but knew I must stay frozen. Any movement on my part would draw their attention. If the beating of my heart didn’t.
“Aw, c’mon,” said one of the other men, “he’s just a stupid half-wit. I didn’t see no one. Did you?”
The third one shook his head. “It’uz probably just that bag he’uz swinging around.”
“No friends,” Traz said yet again as he broke into heart-wrenching sobs.
“Let’s just move on. If we keep moving we can make the next town in time for a hot supper with our ale.”
The first Guardsman’s horse stamped as if it, too, were impatient to move on. Or as if it sensed me. I tried to freeze my thoughts.
The Guardsman himself peered into the trees first on one side of the road and then on the other. “All right,” he finally growled. “But you, you stupid brat,” he snatched his riding crop and in less than the blink of an eye brought it down on Traz’s upturned face, “you get yourself back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” He raised his crop to strike again, but Traz had fallen to the ground covering his face with his
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