The strange knight smiled, but didn't move until the sneaking feral behind him put a blade to his throat. Lancyn cried out "No!" but before the sound was faded from the air, the knight had done—something—too fast to see, there was a scrape of metal as his sword flew, and the decapitated head of his attacker thumped onto the cobbles.
Suddenly, they were alone in the alley.
Ser Chrisfer knelt and matter-of-factly wiped the blood from his sword onto the tattered garments of the headless body. "Lesson one, always clean the blade," he remarked. "Right. Come on." Lancyn stood, paralysed, and Ser Chrisfer rolled his eyes. "Don't shut down on me now, kid, you were doing so well."
"I—I—yes. Thank you. I was, um.."
"Yeah, I could see that. Still, that's life, eh? One minute you're a kid in trouble with a life expectancy of thirty seconds, next minute you're all set for a golden future as squire and sidekick to the mighty Ser Chrisfer."
"But I'm, um, not really your squire," Lancyn pointed out regretfully. His limbs were probably back under his control again.
"Sure you are. Public contract. I affirmed it three times, you confirmed it three times. There were three witnesses. Not exactly sterling citizens, but the contract exists. So, you're my squire. Unless you want to go back to whatever life path you were on before, the one that led you into a dark alley with three cutthroats? 'Cause if you do—"
"No, no, I mean—public contract? But I'm already, I work for, I'm under contract."
The knight snorted. "What sort of contract?" At Lancyn's blank look, he expanded. "Not a public contract, since you didn't recognise ours. Private handshake? Or, no, don't tell me you signed something?"
"I, uh, yes. Signed."
"Did you read it? Can you even read?"
Lancyn could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. "Not then... but it was a standard contract. Seven years."
"And who's your master?"
"Master Merchant Perel."
The strange knight let out a bark of laughter. "No doubt he's told you all the things you have to do for him, and precious little of what he'll do for you."
"No, no," Lancyn was eager to explain, to show that he wasn't quite the fool Ser Chrisfer seemed to think him. "He is training me, he had me taught my letters and my numbers, I'll be fit to set up business on my own when my years are done. At least, now that I can deliver the takings to him."
"Let's do that, then," said Ser Chrisfer affably, and put a friendly arm around Lancyn's shoulders as they moved out of the alley. "And then you can come with me and travel the world spreading justice and getting into trouble."
Lancyn sighed, because it sounded so appealing, and this strange, wonderful knight was holding out a vision of the life he'd dreamed, and it wasn't, couldn't be, real. "What made you tell those thieves I was your squire?" he asked, and blushed again at the note of wistfulness in his voice.
"Just a crazy impulse," the knight shrugged. "I have those. Plus, I wanted to see what you'd do. Whether you had the wits to match the moves."
"Don't think I had much in the way of moves," Lancyn muttered.
"Oh, you're untrained," Ser Chrisfer went on blithely. "I knew that. But you're smart, which is more interesting to me. Followed my leads without having a clue why I was handing them out. And you were about to leap to my defence, unless I'm very much mistaken, when that fourth one showed up. Bad idea, but good attitude. So. You're my squire. Unless you don't want to be, in which case, no problem, we find three respectable witnesses and void the contract."
Lancyn hesitated. It sounded too tempting for words, and it was unquestionably a chance that would never come his way again. But was it real? Was it possible? "What about my contract with Master Perel?"
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Date: 2005-09-10 11:42 am (UTC)Suddenly, they were alone in the alley.
Ser Chrisfer knelt and matter-of-factly wiped the blood from his sword onto the tattered garments of the headless body. "Lesson one, always clean the blade," he remarked. "Right. Come on." Lancyn stood, paralysed, and Ser Chrisfer rolled his eyes. "Don't shut down on me now, kid, you were doing so well."
"I—I—yes. Thank you. I was, um.."
"Yeah, I could see that. Still, that's life, eh? One minute you're a kid in trouble with a life expectancy of thirty seconds, next minute you're all set for a golden future as squire and sidekick to the mighty Ser Chrisfer."
"But I'm, um, not really your squire," Lancyn pointed out regretfully. His limbs were probably back under his control again.
"Sure you are. Public contract. I affirmed it three times, you confirmed it three times. There were three witnesses. Not exactly sterling citizens, but the contract exists. So, you're my squire. Unless you want to go back to whatever life path you were on before, the one that led you into a dark alley with three cutthroats? 'Cause if you do—"
"No, no, I mean—public contract? But I'm already, I work for, I'm under contract."
The knight snorted. "What sort of contract?" At Lancyn's blank look, he expanded. "Not a public contract, since you didn't recognise ours. Private handshake? Or, no, don't tell me you signed something?"
"I, uh, yes. Signed."
"Did you read it? Can you even read?"
Lancyn could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. "Not then... but it was a standard contract. Seven years."
"And who's your master?"
"Master Merchant Perel."
The strange knight let out a bark of laughter. "No doubt he's told you all the things you have to do for him, and precious little of what he'll do for you."
"No, no," Lancyn was eager to explain, to show that he wasn't quite the fool Ser Chrisfer seemed to think him. "He is training me, he had me taught my letters and my numbers, I'll be fit to set up business on my own when my years are done. At least, now that I can deliver the takings to him."
"Let's do that, then," said Ser Chrisfer affably, and put a friendly arm around Lancyn's shoulders as they moved out of the alley. "And then you can come with me and travel the world spreading justice and getting into trouble."
Lancyn sighed, because it sounded so appealing, and this strange, wonderful knight was holding out a vision of the life he'd dreamed, and it wasn't, couldn't be, real. "What made you tell those thieves I was your squire?" he asked, and blushed again at the note of wistfulness in his voice.
"Just a crazy impulse," the knight shrugged. "I have those. Plus, I wanted to see what you'd do. Whether you had the wits to match the moves."
"Don't think I had much in the way of moves," Lancyn muttered.
"Oh, you're untrained," Ser Chrisfer went on blithely. "I knew that. But you're smart, which is more interesting to me. Followed my leads without having a clue why I was handing them out. And you were about to leap to my defence, unless I'm very much mistaken, when that fourth one showed up. Bad idea, but good attitude. So. You're my squire. Unless you don't want to be, in which case, no problem, we find three respectable witnesses and void the contract."
Lancyn hesitated. It sounded too tempting for words, and it was unquestionably a chance that would never come his way again. But was it real? Was it possible? "What about my contract with Master Perel?"