A World Without Heroes
Page 95
“All men are free to do as they will,” Conrad said, his voice dangerously reasonable. “But you have not even remained here a week. Such an affront is insupportable. Are you resolved to pursue this course of action?”
“I am.”
“Then you force my hand. I, Duke Conrad, challenge you, Lord Jason of Caberton, to a duel!”
“No, milord,” exclaimed Kimp, rising from his chair. “Let me handle this miscreant.”
Duke Conrad motioned for Kimp to be seated. “Lord Jason is a member of the aristocracy. Disputes among nobles are best settled by nobles.” Some of the guests nodded sagely at this statement. “I repeat myself—I challenge you to a duel, tomorrow at dawn.”
“I refuse,” Jason said. “Can I go now?”
Several of the stunned guests stifled laughs. Drake tried to pretend he was coughing. “I am your superior in rank,” Duke Conrad insisted, voice quavering with indignation. “You have no right to refuse.”
“I do anyway.”
“Let me rephrase. I will not allow you to refuse, no matter how great your cowardice.”
“In that case I accept.”
“Rapiers at dawn,” Conrad declared.
Jason thought about movies he had seen where people challenged each other to duels. “Wait. You made the challenge. Don’t I get to choose the weapons?”
“Perhaps, if we were of comparable rank, but it is unthinkable that I should condescend to permit an upstart lordling the selection of arms. Consider yourself fortunate I do not simply let Kimp dispose of you.”
The injustice of the situation made Jason’s ears burn. He had an audience. He needed to state his case convincingly.
“I am not only Lord Jason of Caberton,” Jason explained, partially restraining his anger. “I am the chancellor of Trensicourt, second in command after the regent.”
The guests murmured. For an instant Conrad’s rigid expression faltered. “Untrue. You abandoned your office, and Copernum was reinstated.”
“I abandoned nothing!” Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out the chancellor’s signet ring. “I left secretly on a private errand. Anyone who claimed my title in my absence will answer to me when I return. Should I go get my mantle?”
Duke Conrad was clearly taken aback by Jason’s vehemence.
“Furthermore,” Jason pressed, taking advantage of the shifting momentum, “I am a guest in your house. You invited me, which implies some equality between us, even if I had no title. Or do you consider your guests inferiors?”
Around the table eyes glared. Conrad searched for support. Count Dershan shrugged.
Conrad cleared his throat. “The weapon with which I dispatch you is of little consequence,” he said. “Choose.”
To his mild astonishment Jason had won the argument, leaving him unsure what weapon to select. He knew what he didn’t want. Conrad would hack him into lunch meat with swords or axes or any traditional armaments. What if they wrestled? Jason was bigger. Conrad probably knew moves that would take away the size advantage. Everyone was awaiting a response.
“Billiard balls,” Jason said.
“Billiard balls?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
“I am unfamiliar with the tradition.”
“Among my people it’s a common practice,” Jason invented. “The combatants stand at opposite ends of a billiard table full of balls, then throw the balls at each other until one is dead.”
“How novel,” Conrad sniffed. “Very well. An absurd death for an absurd lordling.”
“Hold on. If I win, will I walk out of here untouched by your henchmen, free to leave with my insult to your honor settled?”
“This castle represents neutral ground,” Duke Conrad said. “Besides, no man may be compelled into a mortal duel twice in the same day.”
“How comforting. Tomorrow at dawn then?”
“At dawn in the billiard room. Count Dershan will serve as my second. Who will serve as yours?”
“I will,” Tark blurted, standing up. “And I will depart with Lord Jason when the conflict is resolved.”
Duke Conrad nodded briskly, eyes narrow. Those around the table sat openmouthed. Jason and Tark walked away together.
At the door, aware that all eyes were still on him, Jason paused to address a servant. “See that my meal is sent to my room.”
“Yes, milord,” the man replied.
“I prefer ‘Your Mightiness.’”
“Yes, Your Mightiness.”
“See to it, then.”
“Why billiard balls?” Tark asked. They stood in the topiary.
Jason shrugged. “Conrad would cut me to ribbons if I fought him with a sword. I can throw balls hard. Hopefully harder and better than he can.” He picked up a stone and chucked it at the hedge shaped like Conrad. It missed.
Tark pretended not to notice.
“Think you could swipe some billiard balls?” Jason asked.
“No problem.”
“Would you wake me up early? I want to have time to prepare.”
The sky was gray when Tark awakened Jason.
Before a big game, Jason often had trouble sleeping. Last night had been his worst such experience. No matter how he tried to calm himself, Jason had felt too wired to sleep. He had paced. He had done push-ups. He had tossed and turned in the huge bed. He doubted he had slept more than an hour when Tark woke him.
Eyes burning, mouth nasty, Jason got up and did several stretching exercises. Then he began pitching billiard balls at folded fur comforters propped against the wall until his arm felt limber. An errant throw shattered an ornate jade vase and sent flowers flying.
Not long afterward a knock came at the door. It was Count Dershan, clad in a dapper uniform.
Jason and Tark followed him downstairs. They brought their belongings so they could leave when the duel was over. They proceeded directly to the billiard room. A crowd of guests and servants stood outside the doors. The crowd parted to let the participants pass.
Jason noticed several people giving him encouraging looks. Was he really about to fight someone to the death? He had no choice! Conrad had forced the issue. The Word was worthless if he remained trapped in Harthenham his whole life. Maldor would never be stopped, and he would never get home.
Once they entered the room, Dershan closed the doors, shutting out the onlookers. Inside, Duke Conrad awaited, medals glinting on his uniform. The onyx billiard table had sixty balls spaced equally across its maroon felt surface.
“I am.”
“Then you force my hand. I, Duke Conrad, challenge you, Lord Jason of Caberton, to a duel!”
“No, milord,” exclaimed Kimp, rising from his chair. “Let me handle this miscreant.”
Duke Conrad motioned for Kimp to be seated. “Lord Jason is a member of the aristocracy. Disputes among nobles are best settled by nobles.” Some of the guests nodded sagely at this statement. “I repeat myself—I challenge you to a duel, tomorrow at dawn.”
“I refuse,” Jason said. “Can I go now?”
Several of the stunned guests stifled laughs. Drake tried to pretend he was coughing. “I am your superior in rank,” Duke Conrad insisted, voice quavering with indignation. “You have no right to refuse.”
“I do anyway.”
“Let me rephrase. I will not allow you to refuse, no matter how great your cowardice.”
“In that case I accept.”
“Rapiers at dawn,” Conrad declared.
Jason thought about movies he had seen where people challenged each other to duels. “Wait. You made the challenge. Don’t I get to choose the weapons?”
“Perhaps, if we were of comparable rank, but it is unthinkable that I should condescend to permit an upstart lordling the selection of arms. Consider yourself fortunate I do not simply let Kimp dispose of you.”
The injustice of the situation made Jason’s ears burn. He had an audience. He needed to state his case convincingly.
“I am not only Lord Jason of Caberton,” Jason explained, partially restraining his anger. “I am the chancellor of Trensicourt, second in command after the regent.”
The guests murmured. For an instant Conrad’s rigid expression faltered. “Untrue. You abandoned your office, and Copernum was reinstated.”
“I abandoned nothing!” Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out the chancellor’s signet ring. “I left secretly on a private errand. Anyone who claimed my title in my absence will answer to me when I return. Should I go get my mantle?”
Duke Conrad was clearly taken aback by Jason’s vehemence.
“Furthermore,” Jason pressed, taking advantage of the shifting momentum, “I am a guest in your house. You invited me, which implies some equality between us, even if I had no title. Or do you consider your guests inferiors?”
Around the table eyes glared. Conrad searched for support. Count Dershan shrugged.
Conrad cleared his throat. “The weapon with which I dispatch you is of little consequence,” he said. “Choose.”
To his mild astonishment Jason had won the argument, leaving him unsure what weapon to select. He knew what he didn’t want. Conrad would hack him into lunch meat with swords or axes or any traditional armaments. What if they wrestled? Jason was bigger. Conrad probably knew moves that would take away the size advantage. Everyone was awaiting a response.
“Billiard balls,” Jason said.
“Billiard balls?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
“I am unfamiliar with the tradition.”
“Among my people it’s a common practice,” Jason invented. “The combatants stand at opposite ends of a billiard table full of balls, then throw the balls at each other until one is dead.”
“How novel,” Conrad sniffed. “Very well. An absurd death for an absurd lordling.”
“Hold on. If I win, will I walk out of here untouched by your henchmen, free to leave with my insult to your honor settled?”
“This castle represents neutral ground,” Duke Conrad said. “Besides, no man may be compelled into a mortal duel twice in the same day.”
“How comforting. Tomorrow at dawn then?”
“At dawn in the billiard room. Count Dershan will serve as my second. Who will serve as yours?”
“I will,” Tark blurted, standing up. “And I will depart with Lord Jason when the conflict is resolved.”
Duke Conrad nodded briskly, eyes narrow. Those around the table sat openmouthed. Jason and Tark walked away together.
At the door, aware that all eyes were still on him, Jason paused to address a servant. “See that my meal is sent to my room.”
“Yes, milord,” the man replied.
“I prefer ‘Your Mightiness.’”
“Yes, Your Mightiness.”
“See to it, then.”
“Why billiard balls?” Tark asked. They stood in the topiary.
Jason shrugged. “Conrad would cut me to ribbons if I fought him with a sword. I can throw balls hard. Hopefully harder and better than he can.” He picked up a stone and chucked it at the hedge shaped like Conrad. It missed.
Tark pretended not to notice.
“Think you could swipe some billiard balls?” Jason asked.
“No problem.”
“Would you wake me up early? I want to have time to prepare.”
The sky was gray when Tark awakened Jason.
Before a big game, Jason often had trouble sleeping. Last night had been his worst such experience. No matter how he tried to calm himself, Jason had felt too wired to sleep. He had paced. He had done push-ups. He had tossed and turned in the huge bed. He doubted he had slept more than an hour when Tark woke him.
Eyes burning, mouth nasty, Jason got up and did several stretching exercises. Then he began pitching billiard balls at folded fur comforters propped against the wall until his arm felt limber. An errant throw shattered an ornate jade vase and sent flowers flying.
Not long afterward a knock came at the door. It was Count Dershan, clad in a dapper uniform.
Jason and Tark followed him downstairs. They brought their belongings so they could leave when the duel was over. They proceeded directly to the billiard room. A crowd of guests and servants stood outside the doors. The crowd parted to let the participants pass.
Jason noticed several people giving him encouraging looks. Was he really about to fight someone to the death? He had no choice! Conrad had forced the issue. The Word was worthless if he remained trapped in Harthenham his whole life. Maldor would never be stopped, and he would never get home.
Once they entered the room, Dershan closed the doors, shutting out the onlookers. Inside, Duke Conrad awaited, medals glinting on his uniform. The onyx billiard table had sixty balls spaced equally across its maroon felt surface.
