The Still by David Feintuch

follow me to the battlement, and wait at the foot of the winding stone steps. Before I left I took pains to discuss with him the short life and limited menu of a dung beetle.
    Above, Elryc was aghast at the garb I tendered him. “Me? That?”
    It took some persuasion before I had his good garments off him, and the others on. He held his arms away from his sides, as if afraid of his own touch. He said only, “Laugh at me and you’ll rue it!”
    I doubt he knew the effort it took to keep a straight face. I ruffled his hair to make it unkempt, bent to the deck, rubbed my hand in dust, wiped it on his face. “Come along. No, you idiot, don’t walk like you own the place. Shamble. And stop limping!”
    “The gravel hurts! I need my boots.”
    “Boys of your station have no boots.” I led him down the stairs. The stableboy’s eyes widened. “Garron, this is, um, Rendall, from Llewelyn’s house. Griswold said he’s to sleep in the loft.”
    “Him? But he’s—”
    “Shall I feed you some horse droppings, to introduce you to a beetle’s life?”
    “Urk.” He shook his head vehemently.
    “Rendall, go directly to the stable, stay inside. Garror here will find some dinner.”
    “Genard, m’lord!”
    I eyed the long open walk to the stable. “I’ll go ahead; you two follow, making fun of my walk and jabbing each other in the ribs. Carry on like the idiots you are.”
    “M’lord, I’m not—”
    “Bottle it.” I strode off, trying to keep my pace slow enough so as not to attract undue notice.
    When dark fell, I dropped with weary relief into my bed, but barely had off my shirt when a sharp knock rattled the door. A servant summoned me to my uncle. Furious, I struggled back into my jerkin.
    Uncle Mar paced his spacious anteroom, in the flickering candlelight. “Roddy, a serious matter.”
    “I hope so. I was just getting to sleep.”
    “Where is your brother?”
    My lip curled. “You should know. Crying his heart out, in your imp-cursed castle of Verein.”
    “I speak of Elryc!”
    “Ask Hester. It’s a struggle to rid myself of his company.” I held Uncle’s eyes. So far, I’d told no untruth. “Why should I bother myself where he plays?”
    “A night and day he’s been gone. Has someone taken him? My responsibility as regent—”
    “You look after the crown. I’ll worry about my brother.” I could have bitten out my tongue, for the saying of it. I had no choice but to brazen it out. “If he’s gone, so much the better. Think ye that I want a rival so near at hand, that those who dislike my inheritance may think to alter it in his favor?”
    “You had no such fears about Pytor, when you came charging into Council.”
    “Pytor’s our pet, and not cunning. Elryc is too smart, and cold. If you find him dead, be not too sure that my hand didn’t grasp the blade!”
    “Nonsense. You two have been close.”
    “While Mother lived.” I chose my words with care. “Hers was the power to Renounce.”
    “Ah, a schemer.” His tone was sardonic. “And you call Elryc cold.”
    I shrugged. “Right now, I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.”
    “In a moment. Answer me True, Prince Rodrigo. By the Power you would wield, do you know where Elryc is?”
    I’d left him in the stables. But crossing the courtyard, he and Genard had danced after me like fools at a festival, and seemed friends when I’d left. After working hours, the stableboy was free to go where he wished. Perhaps Elryc was with him.
    I looked Margenthar straight in the eye. “I do not know where Elryc my brother is. I tell you True.” I tried to breathe normally.
    He seemed disappointed. “Very well, you may go.”
    What colossal gall; dismissing me so. Did he think I was some cringing menial?
    “We thank our gracious regent.” My tone was at its most formal. I tried an airy wave, but it didn’t quite come off. I’d have to practice.
    Back in my chamber I peeled off my damp clothes, crawled gratefully into bed. I’d gotten