Jack Shian and the King's Chalice by Andrew Symon

might have happened if you’d met any Brashat.”
    “But we did,” blurted out Jack. “One of the Brashat boys was in France, and he’s started work with Gilmore today. After the match I saw another one that I’m sure was at Falabray.”
    “Do you mean you were with Brashat last night?!” Doonya exclaimed. “Well, that just proves how dangerous it is to go off by yourselves. You know what they did at midsummer. That fire you saw wasn’t the only one. It’s a miracle no one was killed.”
    “I’m sorry, Dad,” said Petros. “I know we should’ve been home earlier, but we did send a grig from Cos-Howe. It just seemed a good opportunity to see somewhere different. And we really didn’t know how to get back.”
    “The Brashat boy,” said Grandpa to Jack. “Is he about your age, with dark hair?”
    Jack nodded. “He’s called Fenrig. I’m sure he was at Falabray. His cousin’s one of the Cos-Howe men.”
    “Atholmor is allowing this Brashat boy to start his apprenticeship here.” Grandpa sounded wearied. “He’s moved into the house at the foot of the square with Mawkit. Atholmor must have his reasons, although it’s hard to understand them. The Brashat don’t like the cities – they hate the humans too much. If they’re moving here, that spells trouble.”
    “We’ll need to discuss this with the Congress,” stated Doonya firmly. “For the time being, none of you is to go out from the square without an adult, is that clear?”
    “You mean, we can’t go out to the High Street?” wailed Rana.
    “It’s for your own safety,” replied her father. “I don’t believe for a minute that he’s really here as an apprentice, that just doesn’t make sense. Jack, you keep a close watch on him. If he’s a real Brashat he’ll be a nasty piece of work.”
    “Jack,” continued Grandpa, “I think for the time being you’ll have to stay under the castle.”
    “Why are they allowed out and I have to stay here?” complained Jack. “That’s not fair.”
    “We’ll see in a while how things are. Two weeks, anyway. After that you’ll all be starting your lessons with Murkle and Daid.”
    Jack scowled. Stay under here for a fortnight?! How boring is that?
    “Cheer up, Jack. I know it’s upsetting, but it’s for your own good. So, tell me how you got on today at Gilmore’s. He’s one of the finest tailors in the country. You’ll learn a lot from him.”
    Sullenly, Jack recounted his day in the tailor’s workshop. He had to repeat the same story when Aunt Katie came in later, but at least the recriminations concerning the previous day seemed to be over. The new perceived danger of a Brashat boy in the Shian square had downgraded such concerns.
    Over the next two weeks Jack continued to go to Gilmore’s workshop, and his life settled down into a steady, if dull, pattern. Learning about different cloths, in truth, was a bit monotonous, and he looked forward to the time when he would be making special clothes.
    Fenrig appeared each day but was often late, and always uncommunicative. At three each day he seemed to disappear. Jack never saw him in the square, and Mawkit’s house seemed deserted. If Grandpa had learned Atholmor’s reasons for allowing Fenrig to be there, he wasn’t letting on.
    A message from Keldy revealed that Ossian had been grounded for a month. Neither Jack nor Petros felt comfortable making contact with anyone from Cos-Howe, and so no news was forthcoming about the fate of Grulsh and the two others brought back from France. Jack thought of asking Fenrig, but didn’t know how to broach the subject, and Fenrig made it clear that he didn’t want to talk in any case.
    The two weeks of Jack’s enforced stay under the castle passed slowly. He was desperate to get out into the fresh air again. He had enjoyed being out among the humans, too. He couldn’t understand Ossian’s antagonism towards humans and had been looking forward to watching them closely with his cousins. Now he