SOMETHING IS AMISS
The next morning, Conn drifted about in a haze of pleasure. He joined the other men in the courtyard and some of them smiled knowingly, though most of them seemed as pleasantly at peace as he felt.
There was only one worry in him. That was Alexander. He had noticed the way he watched Glenna and had, once or twice, felt the need to step between them.
He's up to something. I just wish I knew what it was.
“Damn that man.”
He blinked, realizing he must have spoken aloud, for the man who sat beside him paused inquiringly.
“Sorry, Conn?” he asked, looking up from where he sharpened his sword. “What's that?”
“Nothing,” Conn growled and sighed wretchedly. He slid the whetstone down the blade and jumped when he almost cut his finger. That would serve him right for not concentrating! He shook his head.
“Worried about that Strikestaff?” Adair asked.
“No,” Conn shook his head firmly. “Why would I be?”
“No reason,” Adair said mildly. “Except that the damn fellow's set on his notion of pitting himself against all of us with real swords. He calls it training. I call it him picking an argument.”
Conn sighed. “I'm not scared of him.”
“My dear fellow! I wouldn't suggest you were,” Adair said soothingly. “Just that you can't stand the odious wee fellow any more than anyone else.”
Conn chuckled grimly. “Odious he is,” he agreed. “And no, I can't. None of us can.”
“You know, I sometimes wonder,” Adair said thoughtfully. “If we all clubbed together, perhaps Sir Ivan'd shift him on. Especially if we told him that if he doesn't, the fellow'll get his come-uppance soon. I already heard Kenneth saying he's tempted to make him meet an accident on sentry duty.”
Conn sighed. “Kenneth mustn't make himself a murderer.”
“I said the same,” Adair nodded. He frowned as he scrubbed at a spot on his sword. “Why the damn thing has a notch just there, by the hand-guard, I've no idea. Makes me wonder what the hell I was playing at when I made that...”
Conn laughed and turned away, focusing on the blued steel of his own blade. He rasped the whetstone down it, green eyes focused and critical as he lifted it, letting the sun sparkle off the planes of it. He couldn't focus on the blades. Or the training. Or anything, really. His thoughts were full of her. Nothing else occupied his mind though he tried to focus on other things, like the blade before him.
He looked down the line of it and chuckled, realizing ruefully that he'd not made much impression on the edge for all his apparent sharpening of it.
“You also got funny warps in your blade, Conn?” his companion asked. “I think my swordsmith had a sense of humor. Look at this bit here...a shattered sword waiting to happen.” He shook his head.
Conn frowned and then nodded. “Show the armorer,” he said curtly. “You'll want to fix that before the next skirmish.”
“Mm.” Adair nodded. “I'll also want to take this to the market and do something to that fellow who sold it to me. How could he have the cheek to ask three silver pieces for it?”
Conn chuckled. “He'd say if you didn't like it, you didn't have to buy it.”
“Thank you, Conn. That makes me feel much better,” he said laconically.
Conn and Adair were still chuckling when a shadow suddenly barred across the sunlight.
“Right, men! Who'll fight first?” A confident voice challenged.
Conn looked up at Alexander with a flat challenge in his gaze. “Me.”
Alexander grinned. “If you like.” He shrugged.
Conn stood and went to face him. He could feel the tension in the other men as he walked out, as if they were all expecting some epic confrontation to take place.
Oddly, I'm quite peaceful.
He was surprised by how calm he felt as he took his position on the flagstones. Conn found himself in the worse position, the sun behind Alexander. It made it hard to see what he would do. All the same, he was not going to mention it. If he beat him despite it, he would have all the sweeter of a victory.
“Ready?” the mocking voice called.
“Yes.”
“Fight!”
Alexander was on him with his characteristic fastness. For a big man, he moved with immense speed and Conn found himself struggling to ward off the blows. They used their swords, and they clanged and glittered in the daylight. Conn winced as he blocked a cut that was aimed at his head and the blades rang, the impact shuddering down his arms into an elbow that had still not completely healed.
“Yah!” Alexander yelled in triumph as his sword almost broke the block, then Conn twisted his blade and broke the deadlock, jumping back to ready himself for the man's next advance. He made a cut himself, feinting up and then swinging left.
Alexander blocked it, blades clashing. He wrenched his blade around and Conn had to jump back so that it didn't cut into his throat. He stepped back, and then sent his own blow to the left. He saw the man's eyes narrow as he blocked the thrust, then he stepped back and they circled, each trying to get the light behind him.
Conn watched that craggy face, the gray gaze. Abruptly, he noticed him look up and left. He seemed to be studying something, planning something. Then he looked away.
What was that about?
As Alexander sent in another blow, Conn noticed his style had abruptly changed. Instead of being the aggressor, he seemed, suddenly, to be teaching genuinely.
“You have a weak left block, Conn,” he said. “It's your only major difficulty.”
“Mm,” Conn nodded. Sweat was running into his eyes and trickling down his muscled back. He narrowed his eyes and watched the arc of the silvered blade. He didn't trust this new Alexander.
“What you could do,” Alexander said, sending a blow to Conn's right that he deflected fairly easily, “is practice this swing. Like this. Come in on my left?”
“Mm.” Conn nodded again. He did so, and Alexander did a neat twist with the blade, breaking the deadlock and demonstrating how he would continue, swinging from the left to the right again.
“See?” Alexander stepped back, abruptly. “All right. Good. You lot! Who's next?”
Adair met Conn's gaze and shrugged. “I'll go.”
Conn, dripping with sweat and feeling his chest heaving, went to sit down in the shade, joining the rest of the men. They didn't really meet his gaze, or if they did it was with expressions as confused as he felt.
What happened to him?
Con was just about more shocked than if the man had tried to kill him. This new Alexander – nice, helpful, mentoring – was more sinister than the old, gruff one had been.
He watched, tired and confused, as Alexander faced his new opponent. He took the same stance with him – a few thrusts and parries, and then the sudden change, the helpful, instructive manner.
Conn felt completely bemused. He heard Greer muttering beside him and knew they were all as confused as he was. After the third man went up, Alexander called a halt.
“Right,” he said. “Now. My arm is aching. You lot: first three can now face three more, and we'll go on like that. Spot your man's weakness. Tell him how to fix it.”
Conn shrugged, nodded and got to his feet. He faced Kenneth and tried to do as Alexander had done, engaging the man and pointing out any flaws in his defenses.
“I think you lift your right arm a bit high in the up-stroke,” he said awkwardly. “The enemy could stab you under the arm like that. See?” He lowered his blade, pointing it into the place under his arm, where no armor would cover him.
“Aye.” Kenneth nodded. “Never thought o' that.”
“Well noticed,” Alexander said, passing.
Conn stared. Had that really happened? Had the man just been nice to him? “Not so hard to spot,” he said gruffly. Then he turned back to Kenneth.
“Did that just happen?” Kenneth asked.
Conn chuckled. “Search me.”
They set to again, Kenneth practicing the up-stroke without lifting overly-high.
After the session, Conn had fought four men in total. He was sweating and as exhausted as if he had fought a real battle: he'd been at it for an hour, longer than any of the others. He leaned against a column, too tired to even head to the fountain for a drink of water.
“You did well,” Alexander's voice said. Conn closed his eyes, and then opened them, slit against the bright sunlight.
“It was a good lesson,” Conn admitted grudgingly.
Alexander smiled in a way that looked almost sincere, surprising Conn. “It's about time I did some proper instruction.”
“Mm.” Conn made a non-committal noise, not wanting to provoke the man. He closed his eyes again, letting the sun soak his aching muscles. If he just ignored Alexander, maybe he would go away.
“You know, Conn,” Alexander continued, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Yes?” Conn opened one eye. He felt guarded again, suspicious. What was coming now?
“I was on sentry duty this afternoon,” he said. “But, well...seems I need to be elsewhere. Could you swap with me? You're on night watch tomorrow, aye?”
“Yes.” Conn nodded. “You're offering to swap shifts. With me. Afternoon for night.”
Alexander laughed. “I know. It seems mad, doesn't it? But I need to go somewhere this afternoon and I reckon it's worth doing an extra night shift.”
“Very well,” Conn nodded, shrugging. “If you insist.”
Alexander chuckled. “I do insist,” he said softly. Still smiling, he wondered off.
Conn shut his eyes again, staying where he was.
That was easily the most disturbing thing that had happened to him. He shook his head, trying to fathom it. Alexander, being nice. Helping people. Almost showing him, or so it seemed, that he could be just and fair. Alexander asking for his help.
Why? He sighed. Perhaps he was being suspicious. However, something about him made it unbelievable.
What was it that he had to do this afternoon? Conn shrugged and went to join the other men at the fountain, his throat dry and badly in need of water. It was only when he was on the wall that afternoon, in Alexander's place, looking out over the vast fields toward the town, that he thought about it.
What was he doing this afternoon?
Conn had no idea why, but suddenly his thoughts went to Glenna. If he was here, on the wall, and Alexander was elsewhere, what was to stop him finding her? Hurting her?
Heart pounding, he walked down the ramparts, looking for Seamus, who was on duty further down.
“Seamus?”
“Aye?”
“You haven't seen old Strikestaff heading off anywhere, have you?”
“No,” Seamus frowned. “Thought he was here, actually.”
“I'm taking his place,” Conn said quickly. “But you're sure you've not seen him anywhere? Not in the colonnade or anything?” He threw out a hand to the upper colonnade, just visible from this vantage point.
“No,” Seamus said. He was frowning a little, as if Conn was being somewhat odd. “Why?”
“No reason,” Conn said quickly. Perhaps he was just being needlessly suspicious. All the same. He didn't like it. Not one little bit.
“Not seen anyone passing there, actually,” Seamus said thoughtfully. “A lady or two went past, heading to the solar. No one else.”
“A lady?” Conn asked hopefully. “Like, a tall one with long brown hair? White dress, big eyes?”
Seamus frowned at him. Then he laughed. “With such an accurate description, you seem to know the lady well.”
Conn glared at him and Seamus raised a hand in a placating gesture. “Fine, fine. I'm not going to put my nose into your love life. But now you say it...”
“Yes?”
“I did see such a lady. She went down through the colonnade and down the hallway.”
“When?” Conn asked.
Seamus shrugged. “About half an hour ago, Conn. Just after duty started. Why?”
“Half an hour ago?” Conn asked. His heart thumped.
I have something to do this afternoon.
“Yes.” Seamus gave him a funny look. “Why?”
“No reason,” Conn said again, abruptly. He turned away, then, hurrying back to his post.
Perhaps it was nothing. Nevertheless, now he really was worried.
What was Alexander doing now?