(Luis)
The chief usher stopped at Donald Maltby's door and knocked for me. It's doubtful Donald even knew I existed, and at any rate I had no standing to introduce myself. Seconds later the door opened, and Donald looked out at us—the usher in livery, I in my habit. My uniform, as we call it. I doubt he recognized it as Higuchian, but the collar marked me as a churchman.
It was the usher he spoke to, as protocol would have it, paying no attention to me. "What is it, Jacques?" he asked.
"Your lordship, I've brought a gentlemen to see you: Master Luis, of the Order of Saint Higuchi. A healer who's been working with your father. Captain Frazier commends him to you."
Donald examined me thoroughly now, enough that some would have resented it.
"Thank you, Jacques," he said quietly. "You may go now." Jacques left, and Donald spoke to me. "Your name again, sir?"
"I am Master Luis."
"Please come in, Master Luis."
I did, closing the door behind me. I'm taller than most, but Donald is taller than I, more strongly built, and had more presence than I'd expected. His aura marked him as essentially a scholar, hardwired to learn, not contest. But scholars can fight and command if called upon, and he was also hardwired to dominate. As was his father; it had probably contributed to their poor relationship. And his father had the advantages of seniority and rank. And of essence: he was born to command, as Donald was born to study.
Another thing influenced his potential: he had a deep desire to be important. Usefully important. A common enough desire, at least in the Order, but in his case suppressed, probably for fear he'd make a fool of himself.
"Sit down," he said, gesturing toward a straight-backed, upholstered chair. I sat, and he sat down facing me some six feet away. Distant enough to support his aloofness. A means of defense, of holding people off and hiding his insecurity. But not so far our fields couldn't interact.
"What does a Higuchian want of me?" he asked.
"Your help, Lord Donald."
My answer unsettled him, though he hid it well. "My help? Do you ask as a Higuchian, or as a private person?"
I answered pleasantly. It wouldn't take much to close him off, but even a briefly felt essence contact could be helpful. "I'm afraid there's not much I do as a private person," I answered. "Norlins has sent me to Sota to learn its defensive posture toward the Dkotas, and to improve it if I find it inadequate. The king's is nonexistent. Now I'm visiting the dukes. Starting here in Kato."
"Then you're a military man."
I had his interest now: a cautious interest. "I'm Higuchian," I said, "military by training and experience, but not agressive unless forced to it. My favorite weapon is knowledge."
Knowledge. He nodded, still wary behind his facade.
"Your father is said to have been the most influential of Sota's dukes, but he is not able now to play a role. While you, though inexperienced, are generally recognized as his successor." I could sense him backing away. "Captain Frazier," I went on, "has assured me you have the intelligence, character, and presence to present yourself to the other nobles as a man worth listening to. That you're well educated in government, politics, and military thought, but lack experience. He suggested I approach you, and offer to be your mentor."
His aloofness had weakened, but the offer scared as much as interested him. He feared I'd find him worthless. "You've told me what Keith thinks of me," he said. "What do you think?"
Was that a whiff of boldness? "You have strong potential. Keith tells me you've been well and thoroughly taught, but your education was flawed by over-correction and lack of validation. Not uncommon for men whose instructor was their father; fathers can be over-critical of sons." I grinned now, a friendly—a comradely grin, but with a warrior's edge. "I'd feel privileged to be your mentor. You might find the experience enjoyable; certainly different. In age, we're not far apart, you and I, not like a father and son. An older cousin perhaps. And as Jacques said, I'm a trained healer. My specialty . . . is the human soul."
He was staring now, the last of his facade gone, but the wariness still strong: was I a charlatan? At some level, though, he knew I'd been truthful, and that my intentions were honest.
"What do you think of Captain Frazier?" I asked.
"Keith is a noble man," he said, "honest, wise, and good-hearted. And very competent."
"Then let me suggest you ask his opinion of my offer. And do you know Corporal Hamus?"
"Hamus? He's sparred with me. He says I'm very good; that in the guard, only Keith excels me with the sword. And himself. He didn't say that, but I know it from experience."
Somewhere inside Donald, the boy was still alive. "Good," I said. "Ask him what he thinks of me as a swordsman."
I got to my feet. "I plan to leave the morning after tomorrow. If you decide to come with me, you'll need to be ready when I am. Let me know. I'm staying at the bishop's manse, but I expect to return here later today, and again tomorrow, to speak further with Keith, and give healing sessions to your father. That's all I have to say for now. The choice is yours."
I stepped toward him, invading the protective space he liked, and thrust out a hand. He hesitated briefly, then he met it, and we shook.
I left the palace feeling optimistic. It seemed to me the young lordling might play a larger part than I'd thought.
It didn't take long for Donald to act. He went first to Hamus, who verified it was Frazier who'd asked him to test me. As for my swordsmanship, Hamus insisted I'd won easily.
Frazier had been away from the guardhouse at the time, so Donald returned to see him after supper, and found him in his quarters with his boots off. They'd talked about me and what I'd said, and Donald decided on the spot to accept my offer.
"You'll have to tell your father," Keith said, "since you're to be his proxy."
Donald hadn't confronted that. "Well . . ." he replied, "will you come with me? In case he has questions I can't answer?"
So Keith pulled his boots back on, and they'd gone to Edward's door. There the guard told them Edward's healer, "the Higuchi," was with him, and that he'd been instructed not to interrupt. Even Widow Sanders had been dismissed to her room.
Donald looked to Keith, and the captain said they'd wait. Minutes later I opened the door, and there they were.
"Hello, Luis!" Keith said, "Donald and I have come to talk with his lordship. And since you're here, and it's you we've come to talk about, you might want to stay."
Donald was visibly surprised to see his father on his feet, standing almost straight, and not holding on to anything. Both father and son were ill at ease, Donald especially. Their conversation was brief. Edward's only instruction was to follow my instructions. He even managed to sound casual; comfortable with Donald serving as his proxy. He extended his hand. Donald met it uncertainly. "Good luck, son," Edward said. "You go with my love."
Then he embraced the young man.
Donald was like stone, and when Edward stepped away, answered stiffly. "With your leave, your lordship, I must go to my room and prepare."
Edward recoiled almost visibly, and Keith winced. "Come then, Donald," he said. "Your father and Master Luis have last-minute words."
We watched as they left. When they were gone, Edward turned to me, deeply hurt. "He has no love for me at all."
The words touched me, burning in my chest as if the pain were mine. "My lord," I answered, "let me tell you what he'll do as soon as he reaches the privacy of his room. And he will do it precisely because of the embrace you gave him. He will weep, hard and bitter tears. For lost years, lost opportunities of affection. But perhaps he will change, these next weeks. There are strong grounds for hope. Meanwhile it seems to me we'll see him able to rule, when the time comes, and perhaps more than just the duchy. At least you'll see him happier than he's been since childhood.
"And when he gets back to Kato, I believe he'll return that embrace you gave him. Look forward to it, sir. Then the two of you can start over."
I gripped his skinny arm. The man's both frail and tough, I thought. "Meanwhile," I told him, "we must bring you back to strength. You have work yet to do. If you'll send the guard for Widow Sanders, I'll teach her to heal with the hands."