Self-Made Scoundrel (4 page)

“I know,” he said. This was her constant advice to him. But the reading and the surveying never yielded anything but disdain. Disdain for his father and the way the Barony was run. For telling people what to do and having them blindly obey. Cira tried to tell him he could earn their respect, govern differently from his father. He could make the seat what he wanted it to be. But Dershik would always feel like it had been handed to him. “I’m trying, Cira, I am.”

He pulled the door open slightly, making sure there was no one on the grounds before he looked to her one last time. Cira sat on the bed, hands in her lap. As beautiful as always, her round face framed by her dark hair, light eyes sparkling above a freckled nose. Dershik sighed. “See you in the morning.” He checked one more time before he slipped through the door.

Dershik still heard the clamor of the party. The windows to the hall were open and he saw the lights within, people dancing and talking. He crept up to the window, crouching down so he wouldn’t be seen by the revelers in the large hall. His step-mother was back and leading a dance, graceful as always. His father watched her dance with something like pleasure on his face, flanked by two men Dershik knew to be important magistrates.

It took him a while to find Ceric but eventually he did. He sat in a corner of the room with a girl, Jerila. They both looked flushed. Right when Dershik was about to duck and leave he saw Ceric lean in and kiss Jerila on the mouth, quickly. Dershik stood up and ran, ran away from the party. He passed the first tower and came to the second, flinging open the door and ignoring the guard yet again, racing up the stairs. Everyone was at the party so he didn’t bother trying to sneak to his room. The door creaked open and closed as he slipped in. In a few short moments he pulled both the box and key from their respective hiding places, opening the lid and pulling the dagger out of his belt.

Dershik stared at the dagger. The full moon shone through the window, lighting the room like lamplight. The blade glinted in the white glow and he caught his reflection in its shine once more. Maybe he could run away. Take the dagger, his grubbier clothes, steal a horse from the stable. It wouldn’t be too hard. He could try to sell some of his nicer clothes since all his jewelry was stamped with the Cartaskin seal. But he’d take his good boots. The party would last till well into the evening. No one would notice he was gone. All the guard shifts were running light as the extra help was needed in the kitchen and the hall itself, as well as allowing the guards a chance to join in the festivities.

Footsteps approached and Dershik slammed the dagger into the box and locked it, sliding it under his bed. The key he dropped in his pocket. He’d put it on a chain later and keep it close from now on. He gulped as the door was pushed open and the shape of his father filled the frame.

“What’re you doing in here?” his father asked. He sounded tired and Dershik wondered if he’d been looking for him.

“I…I was tired and thought I’d go to bed,” Dershik lied.

His father stepped into the room, his boots loud against the floor. “A boy of fourteen years, too tired to attend a party.” His father walked up to his bed and sat on the edge of his bed, his back toward him. “Very curious.”

“I don’t like the parties,” Dershik said. “They’re boring and everyone is just pretending to like us. They just want things from us.”

“Good,” his father said, turning to him. “If they want things, we can provide them. Keep them in our service. Make them support our house in our endeavors.” His father sighed and turned to him. “Dershik, I know you’re too young to remember, but it was our house who organized and provided for the people when we were dealing with Freemen attacks. Your grandfather trained his soldiers himself, and trained me.”

“But the Freeman haven’t attacked since I was a baby,” Dershik interrupted. “So there’s no need for an army anymore.” Dershik knew the number of soldiers had been reduced drastically in the last ten years, most of the trained soldiers relegated to guards in the cities and towns. The magistrates hadn’t requested more than their quotas, content with the numbers his father provided.

“Peace is the time for progress, not passivity,” his father said, quoting one of the journals of Dershik’s great-grandfather, who had built the keep as it stood today. “I have spent time trying to make you into the leader the people will need and leave you with a legacy people will talk about for generations to come. I know you don’t see it in yourself, but I see a young man who can stay calm under trying circumstances. Who is well-liked by those around him, even if they don’t know him. Who thinks about things differently. A natural leader. You will make a great Baron, Dershik.”

“I don’t want to be the Baron,” Dershik blurted out. As soon as he said the words he wished he could shove them back into his mouth. His father turned his head slowly toward him, his lack of reaction filling Dershik with dread.

“What did you say?” his father asked. His voice was too quiet. Dershik took a step back and when he did his father rose from the bed, facing him. Dershik noticed his father wasn’t much taller than him now, but he was definitely bigger, stronger. His father’s eyes shone as they looked over his face, waiting for the answer Dershik didn’t want to give.

“I…I don’t.” He had to give some answer. “I don’t want to do it.” Dershik tried to sound brave but it didn’t matter. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, his head spinning as pain shot through his skull. The sound of footsteps barely registered in his brain as his father approached him, standing over him. Dershik looked up woozily, not able to keep his eyes focused.

“It’s not about what you want,” his father growled, sounding more animal than man. “You are too young to make decisions like this. You are being stupid and selfish. You are going to do as I say. You are going to study and train, and in two year’s time, you will marry Jerila.” Now he had Dershik’s attention, the boy’s eyes wide as he stared at his father. “I’ve talked to her father. She’s moving into the keep so you can get to know her.”

“No,” Dershik said, pushing himself up. He brought a hand to his head, still disoriented from the blow but unable to keep quiet. “Not her. Please.” He remembered how Ceric talked about Jerila after her visits and how they looked at each other. He remembered the kiss he had seen them exchange in the hall. “Ceric-”

“Ceric’s going to become a priest,” his father spat. “He’s leaving in the summer for Whitfield. He’s already chosen.”

“So Ceric gets a choice as to what he wants but I don’t?” Dershik shouted, too upset to care what happened. It wasn’t fair. “How does that work out?”

“Ceric made the right decision.” His father started to walk away, heading for the door. “He knows you’ll get the seat. He could go into the clergy or try to find an industry in which to excel. We both know where his strengths lie. He’s an excellent student and having a brother in the Church would be beneficial to you, as you get older.” His father headed to the door and opened it, the light from the hall spilling into the room but leaving Dershik in the dark. “And,” his father added. “It’s about time you had your own room. Tomorrow I expect you to be upstairs.”

“There’s a room on this floor,” Dershik suggested feebly, feeling he was being punished.

“I know that. Upstairs.” His father turned to leave but looked at him once more, his eyes moving over the boy. “ Looks like you got something you wanted. Don’t bother coming back to the party.” His father left and let the door close with a thud, leaving Dershik alone in his room.

He balled his fists and waited before he screamed in frustration, pushing the mattress off of his bed. It flopped to the floor noiselessly and he kicked his wooden box across the room, sending it skittering, splintering across the floor. The dagger fell out and slid across the stones, dull. Dershik stood up and scooped it, feeling the hilt in his hand. Without thinking he drove it into his mattress and stabbed, over and over again, feathers and wool bursting from the lashes. He stopped after a few breaths, seeing what he had done, and felt stupid. What had he done? Nothing. Just taken out his anger on something which wasn’t even alive. He punched the mattress and stood up, wiping the tears which had fallen from his eyes during his outburst.

His head still ached but he ignored the pain as he went to his trunk and pulled out some clothes. Derk stripped and changed into his riding gear, fastening his cloak about his shoulders and leaving his new brooch on the tattered bed. He shoved some clothes into his pack and looked around for something without the house seal on them, something he could sell. He had already torn up the sheets, and those would be too large to travel with anyway.

Dershik knew the clothes he wore would have the seal of his house on it, embroidered in yellow and blue somewhere. Even his boots would have the mark, under the fold where it wouldn’t be seen during normal wear. What about the books and scrolls? Dershik went to Ceric’s side of the room and flipped them open, unrolling them. All of them were marked, some with the seals of several houses as they had been passed from Barony to Barony.

To Her Hems with this, he thought, throwing a few more clothes items into his bag and grabbing a pair of gloves, wrapping them around the newly obtained dagger. He was already sweating both from wearing too many clothes and his nervousness as the reality of what he was going to do sunk in. His hand against the door, he took a deep breath.

The door pushed open from the other side and Dershik stepped back, fear clawing his throat. He thought it was his father about to find him in his current state. Instead a strawberry blond head popped in, dark blue eyes and a lantern lighting up the room. “Derry?” Ceric said, walking into the room. “Are you okay? Papa looked cross after he went to look for you.”

“I’m leaving,” Dershik said, slinging his pack over one shoulder. He tried to make it sound as convincing as possible but his resolve was already faltering. The look Ceric gave him shattered it. Dershik shook his head. “There’s no use arguing. I can’t be the Baron.”

Ceric burst into tears and rushed Dershik, hugging him tightly. He was fairly certain his brother was talking but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. His determination dissolved into shame as he felt his brother’s tears soak through his tunic to his skin. Dershik pried Ceric off of him, his head still hurting as he looked him over, trying to keep his remorse off his face. “Please, stop crying, Ceric. Ceric. Ceric!”

“You can’t go!” Ceric managed. His face was all red now from crying and his eyelashes stuck to each other. “You can’t! If you go, I’ll have no one here. And you have to be the Baron. It’s your birthright!”

“You’re not even going to be here after the spring, Ceric! Father’s sending you away to Whitfield!” The look on Ceric’s face told Dershik his brother already knew this. “You know about Whitfield already?”

“Of course,” Ceric said, picking up the lantern. He wiped his face with his free hand, taking a deep breath. “I talked it over with the Sisters and Father. Whitfield would be the best place for me to study and be taken seriously. Not many men don grey robes.”

So Cira knew and hadn’t told him. Dershik cocked his head to the side. “Did you, now? Did Father also tell you Jerila is moving to the keep?” Now Ceric’s eyes went wide and then he colored, biting his lip. “Did he tell you that? And I’m to take vows with her?” Now he got a reaction out of his brother he wanted. Surprise followed by disbelief.

“It isn’t true,” Ceric said. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. “You don’t even like Jerila.”

“I know I don’t but she’s…her father owns the largest mines in the Barony.”

“So that’s why?” Ceric shouted, looking angrier than Dershik had ever seen him. “You want something from her family, so you’re going to marry her?”

“I don’t want to marry her, Ceric!” he shouted over him, resisting the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “I told Father! I know you like her! I saw you kissing at the party.” His face still hurt and shouting had made the pain worse. He walked over to Ceric’s bed and sat on the edge, setting his pack on the floor. His head was spinning and he felt like he might throw up. Even though it was dark in the room he still saw sparks out of the corner of his eyes. “I saw you.”

“Are you okay?” Ceric finally asked, walking toward him with the lantern. Dershik blinked and shielded his eyes, turning away from its light as well as from his brother’s face. He didn’t want to see Ceric worried about him, or angry with him. It would make leaving harder.

“I’m fine,” Dershik said. “Ceric, if I go then maybe you can be the Baron. And marry Jerila. What do you think?”

“Father would look for you,” Ceric insisted. “You would never get away. And I can’t be the Baron. Father says I’m too timid. He says people won’t take me seriously as a leader and says I could never hold the seat. I want to be a priest.”

“But what about Jerila?” Dershik asked, hoping the mention of the girl might steel his younger brother against his fears. Ceric looked down at the ground and shook his head.

“I like Jerila but…I’m only a boy. We’re both young. She might just like me now. Sister Kiyla says young hearts often change.” His brother looked sad. “She might grow to like you better. And well, there will be girls in Whitfield.” At this Ceric’s face brightened. Dershik was a little surprised to see his brother’s fondness for girls, given his age. His brother shrugged. “But please don’t go. Please.”

Dershik sighed. He didn’t know what he should do now. He knew his brother was right. His father would try to find him. How long could he last out in the Valley by himself? How far would he get? And what would happen upon his return? His head throbbed.

“If you go, I’ll tell on you right now.” Dershik looked up. His brother was trying to seem formidable but it just made Dershik tilt his head to the side and laugh.

“I could just tie you up and gag you. It could be a whole watch before they come looking for you.” He offered the information to his brother and saw him gulp down his fear. Still, the boy stood there, steadfast in his resolve.