Abbalar Tales ~ 27

 Abbalar Tales ~ 27 The Palace 2

by Len Morgan

Aldor spent two days reviewing relationships with old associates using the name Aldor, nobody recognised him or even guessed at his true identity.   He recalled his pre-enhancement impressions and found, almost without exception, he had to profoundly and fundamentally revise his views as a result of what he discovered inside their minds.   He suddenly realised he didn't know very much about most of the people he had lived with on a daily basis.   Others were so open and uncomplicated he could not understand how they had risen so high in the hierarchy.    Only after scanning the minds of their immediate superiors did he realise they preferred underlings who were reliable and open, by inference they did not pose a threat.   There was a distinct preference for the predictable, who would provide a buffer between themselves and the more devious minds.   In reality, the most efficient ones could face in two directions at once; they seemed uncomplicated whilst being even more devious than their masters.   They rose steadily in defiance of their apparent placid natures then when the moment was right they struck...

One such was Asba Dylon, not that Aldor could penetrate his mind deeper than a few layers.   His admiration for Asba knew no bounds; it grew and grew as he witnessed the man’s ability to manipulate others at will.   He never missed an opportunity to take advantage of a situation.   He knew intuitively how to milk a situation or a contact.   Aldor found it difficult to remember that Asba, unlike himself, could not scan minds.

Asba liked to offer little inducements that were to a person’s advantage but on a few occasions, when threats were required, he never hesitated.   He played the courtly game in an exemplary fashion.

   Ostensibly, Aldor was Asba's scribe, which provided him with a unique opportunity to sample selected minds and identify what motivated them.   At an opportune moment, he was able to slip small snippets of information into Asba's mind.   It was exhilarating to witness the man effortlessly change direction in mid-sentence.   As a scribe, he was unimportant and virtually invisible, which was just as well because he spent much of the time honing his scanning skills by unashamedly dipping into the minds of those around him.

   By the close of his third day he was becoming concerned that he had not yet located a worthy successor to his father, Endrochine.   He knew he had to return to the sanctuary of the control room tomorrow, before the sunset, or Skaa and Genna would pay a heavy price.   Constantly he was comparing the candidates with Asba, if he had been of royal blood there would be no need to search further.   Whilst scrutinising Fazeil's offspring he came upon a mind that was curious, quick, and nimble, he felt both disappointed and angry when he realised it was the mind a young woman.   By convention, the succession had always passed to the strongest and therefore a man.   A woman had never even been considered, that would have been too radical even for Corvalen at this time but…   He then realised he was being a little narrow with his parameters, he realised with a start that he would not have met the criteria he was setting.   So, he reviewed the minds he had already sampled and found three who warranted further investigation.   A disturbance was in progress that impinged on his thoughts.   He felt physical pain as if he had been struck, he was startled, and instinctively moved in the direction of the commotion.   An area had been hastily vacated, by people not wishing to become involved in the scuffle, leaving a wide area occupied by a giant figure dressed in black leather bearing the crest of the Regents Guard.   He was standing over a prone figure who lay still at his feet.   As he watched, the dark giant viciously kicked at the grounded figure displaying non-verbal contempt in the conscious levels of his mind.   'Administrator turd'   the fight was obviously over if indeed the grounded man had ever fought back.   But, the kicking continued relentlessly, he was intent on killing the man on the floor and nobody looked to be going to his aid.  

'What kind of man acts so?'  Aldor thought as he stepped forward, unwilling to be a passive witness to a murder.    His father never would have permitted it.   His first encounter with that dark predatory mind left no doubt of his stamp.   He was a sadistic, unemotional butcher with a purpose.   Whatever pretence had been used to promulgate the encounter, it was premeditated.   "Enough!" he yelled throwing his bulk against the big man, putting himself between them, forcing him back.   The crowd collectively drew breath.   He turned towards the man on the floor and realised with surprise and anger that it was Asba Dylon.

The guard stepped back, more in surprise than from the physical contact with Aldor.   His mind was filled with amusement, as he gazed down into the eyes of the young upstart who had dared intervene in palace business.   He could see no fear in those eyes.   Instead, he saw righteous anger; and was forced to avert his gaze.   "You use violence against the Regents Guard?" he asked in annoyance at being bested.

"I seek only to protect my master from senseless violence.    He is a man of words, not aggression, a man who has shown me nothing but kindness and friendship since my arrival in Corvalen."   The crowd shouted their approval.   "You act in an unseemly manner, and shame the uniform you wear," he yelled, for the benefit of the crowd, warming to the task.

The big man folded his arms and roared with laughter.  

"Mock me at your peril, sir," said Aldor stepping forward striking him formally on both cheeks.   "You are a bully and a coward attacking a harmless man of peace.   You besmirch your office and will be brought to account…"

"You intend teaching me a lesson in manners?   You would show me the error of my ways?"   he laughed with amusement, but would dearly have loved to squash the little insect but, a formal challenge had been issued.   The crowd laughed along with him which made him feel better.

"Let us see how you fare against a man with the means to defend himself," Aldor replied, "it will probably be a unique experience."

"Whores spawn!" He answered and his armoured fist shot out towards Aldor's face.

Aldor moved his head four inches and the fist passed harmlessly over his shoulder.   He grabbed it instantly, utilising the big man's momentum to throw him high into the air, adding his own body weight to bring him down hard on his head.   There was a crack and his head lay at an unnatural angle, he lay still and unmoving where he had landed.

Aldor turned away to carefully check Asba over, ensuring that nothing was broken, before helping him to his feet.

Asba's first comments were, "Thank you.    I fear by helping me you have drawn unnecessary attention to yourself.   He is/was one of Fazeil's personal bodyguard.   By issuing a challenge to him you have issued a challenge against Fazeil himself.   You will therefore be expected to meet with his champion."

"Ghorik?   He is a good man, my father's champion for over twenty years, never beaten."   Aldor smiled, "he gave me my first sword, made out of wood, I was five at the time.   He sat me on his knee and placed it in my hands, it was too heavy, I dropped it on his toe and he cried yield…   I could not bring myself to kill him; I must leave the city…"

"Unfortunately, Kaffeit has already done the deed," Asba said.

Aldor shook his head; the sadness he felt did not show on his face.   "Of course, Ghorik would never have allowed such scum into the elite Regents Guard."

As they spoke a detachment of the Guard arrived, led by a captain Vascelli, known and trusted by them both; a good man, one of the old guard.

"I'm sorry Counsellor Asba, I have orders to detain your clerk in connection with the demise of this," he poked with his toe at the corpse, making no secret of his distaste for the man who had so recently returned to the wheel.   Six guards formed up around Aldor; who looked askance of Asba.

"Go with them, there are a hundred high born who will bear witness to the truth of what took place here tonight."

"He is to be detained to ensure his appearance at the duel, which will be set for dawn tomorrow," Said captain Vascelli.

"But he is dead…" said Asba nodding towards the corpse.

"A challenge has been made against the Regents Guard and therefore, by implication, against the Regent himself.   It can only be settled between this man and the Royal Champion."

"What if my scribe beats Kaffeit?" Asba asked.

The good captain and his guard burst into laughter that lasted for several minutes.   Finally, he pulled himself together, "Then he will go free, mayhap even become the new champion." this precipitated further laughter, "you have my word on it." He said.

 

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan