Master and Fool by J. V. Jones Page B

wait for the show.
Now unarmed, he sprang away from the wall. Red Hair had recovered, but the
second guard was on the floor. There was blood on Red Hair's blade. The fourth
guard had moved to his side, and both of them now blocked Jack's path to the
door.
    Two men, armed and
ready, faced him. Jack knew it was time for sorcery. He concentrated on the
metal in the blades. He felt it dense, rigid, resisting with all its might.
Doing exactly what he had been taught, he entered the cool-metal hardness. This
wasn't one of Stillfox's training sessions where the dangers were mostly
imagined and the outcome carefully monitored like an experiment under glass.
This was real.
    Split seconds were
all he had. There was no time for straining or finesse, no time to be entrapped
by the substance he entered. Jack fed off the urgency and the danger.
    His mind conjured
up an image of Tarissa. She was there in a blink of an eye, Rovas in front of
her, and gently she raised her hand to feel the heat from his forehead. Jack
felt sorcery build. Shame was underneath, but he had no time to deal with that
now. He let the power flood up from his belly whilst his thoughts swept down
from his mind. The two met in his mouth and the metal bite of sorcery slithered
down along his tongue.
    Straight to the
blades it went. Jack's mind formed the intent as it raced through the air. He
molded the sorcery like a sculptor, and once it hit it was fully formed. It
passed with his thoughts into the substance of the knife, and just as it did
what it was made for, he pulled himself back from the blades. The knives became
red-hot pokers. Both men screamed, opening their fists and dropping the blades
to the floor.
    Jack felt a wave
of weakness sweep over him. Fighting it off, he pushed past both men toward the
door. Neither Red Hair nor his friend had any desire to stop him. They were
both holding up red, raw palms and looking wildly around for some way to cool
them.
    Jack stepped over
the threshold and walked straight into Nivlet. Frallit had once said: "Never
trust a skinny baker, " and it seemed that he was right. Jack punched
Nivlet squarely in the face. Nivlet fell to the floor and Jack stepped over his
body. "See to it those guards get some water for their burns." He
didn't wait to hear the man's reply; he turned his back and walked away.
    Feeling strangely
elated, Jack made his way from the lodge. He had done it! He had made
sorcery do his bidding! It was exhilarating. He felt powerful, confident, ready
to take on all comers. As he walked through the banquet hall, Jack swept all
the remains of last night's food from the table. Loaves, chickens, and fruit
went flying into the air. He threw his head back and laughed out loud. Finally
he had done something right.
    Footsteps again,
either Nivlet or one of the injured guards. Time to move on. Jack's smile fell
from his face. It looked like he wouldn't be seeing much of Annis after all, as
he'd be going out the same way he came in: by the back door. Jack picked a
particularly nasty-looking carving knife from the rushes, filled his tunic with
bread and cheese and, as an afterthought, downed a cupful of ale in a toast to
himself. Grimacing-sitting around all night had done little for the ale-Jack
turned on his heel and slipped out into the dawn.
    "Your Grace,
may I present His Royal Highness King Kylock, Sovereign of the Four
Kingdoms." Baralis stepped back and let Kylock come forward to meet
Catherine.
    Kylock looked
magnificent. Dressed in black silk and sable with spun gold at cuffs and collar
he looked more than the king he was. Tall and fine-limbed he carried himself
with casual pride. His features were harder to judge; strangely shadowed
despite the sunshine beaming down from the windows, they eluded both words and
light.
    He stretched out
an elegant hand and Catherine raised her own to meet it. He brought her pale
fingers to his lips. His breath was cool, cooler even than his lips. A tiny
thrill passed through