The Unfortunate, стр. 20
Silence lingered momentarily, longer still for Awiergan did it seem, before the master of the academy finally smiled and exclaimed, “I have always trusted your judgment, and today served to reinforce my faith, not that I ever had reason to doubt.”
Despite being overwhelmed with relief, Awiergan still felt the effects of his uneasiness. “Thank you, Mas—”
“No. To you I am Gildas. You have earned my respect.” He paused before adding, “What observations did you make of the recruits?”
Awiergan explained how he had arranged the morning and afternoon matchups before concluding, “They all show promise. Some more than others.”
“I fear the same cannot be applied to the prisoners I brought from Dorstor.”
“From what I noted, a few appear to be worthy challengers,” the champion offered cheerfully.
“Appearances can deceive,” Gildas reminded.
“Yes,” Awiergan agreed. “I do have reason to doubt, concerning other matters, that is.”
“Go on.”
“The Giant of Drunacht and his cousin, they—”
The owner of the academy interrupted with a chuckle. “I did not realize you had already provided him a name.”
Awiergan only shrugged. “Is it not fitting?”
“Yes, most appropriate. What of him and his cousin?”
“I feel they will not be … honest.”
“You are concerned with the words they exchanged?”
“Yes,” Awiergan nodded. “I cannot understand their tongue, but I doubt their words were gracious.”
“And you would be correct. If you have forgotten, I understand more languages than the common tongue, including that of Drunacht. That is the foremost reason King Wyman frequently calls me to the capital, to translate intercepted letters.”
Awiergan also laughed because he had realized it was his master, not the Drunishmen, who had received the final jest.
“Vulgarities aside”—Gildas added—“he, the one who does not speak the common tongue, indicated he would rather die than serve as one of my fighters.”
“That could be arranged.”
“No,” the master countered. “I believe they both have potential.”
“The translator? Potential?” Even though the comment was hypocritical compared to the advice Awiergan had provided earlier, that every man no matter how highborn or humble had his worth, he still had his doubts. “Can the man even wield a blade properly?”
Gildas shrugged before responding, “Sometimes words can be more dangerous than steel.”
Awiergan was unsure what his master had implied. Was it simply a jest about the Drunishmen’s insults? Does Gildas intend to listen to their conversations with the hope of uncovering some truth of the men’s intentions? In addition to these concerns, the champion pondered another matter, but this time he verbally expressed his concerns. “How do you intend to train the Giant of Drunacht when he does not speak or understand our words and when his cousin is not honest with his translations?”
“There is always a way,” Gildas replied.
Yet another riddle-like answer. Awiergan still nodded before adding, “What of the others?”
“The one who has the best chance of joining the academy is a marvel to behold. He was born for this opportunity. Perhaps you can call him the Giant of Winnix! It is as if Fate’s intent was for him to be a fighter.”
Awiergan again nodded before inquiring, “You are that certain of the man?”
The master of fighters shrugged. “His appearance would suggest he would be an admirable opponent, but if he no longer has the will …” Gildas hesitated briefly before concluding, “He is nothing more than another dim-witted ox.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
JENNIVER
Although she was not a native, having been born in the lands across the Slender Sea, she had always considered Armania her home. It was all she knew and all she could remember. Jenn’s earliest memories were not of Drunacht but rather of the small country village in which she had been raised. Although she had still been an infant when she had first been brought to Armania, an age from which she recalled nothing, Jenn had been told by her mother on numerous occasions that it was Queen Marlisa for whom they should be thankful. It was the queen who had provided them their home.
As a girl Jenn had never understood the true meaning of why she had needed to be thankful for the queen. She had known there had needed to be respect. Butthanks? For what?
Eventually she had realized and had understood the significance of Queen Marlisa’s actions, but for the years of Jenn’s girlhood, her only concern had been, well, nothing. As long as Jenn could recall, she had always felt that the open countryside with its continuous green hills was representative of a tranquil delicacy. Even after having reached the age of maturity and having had to assume the responsibilities of a woman, a part of Jenn had still longed for the peaceful solitude where there had existed nothing over which to fret, where time had slowed and had seemingly lasted forever. Jenn had still been able to recall when she had been a child and how she had lain on the ground and had watched clouds parade above her. Then in the evenings, she had watched the stars appear and slowly fill the sky, and on some occasions her mother, Aurnia, would join her.
“It has been claimed there is a star for every soul that has departed this world,” her mother had once told Jenn.
“Is that true?” she had replied.
Her mother had chuckled. “It is a century’s-old myth, like the tales of dragons and giants, but that does not mean you cannot believe.”
“I do believe!” she had been quick to proclaim. “What else does the myth foretell?”
“That when a star falls, it is a sign that the soul has been cast from the heavens as punishment.” A slight chuckle had followed her mother’s reply.
There had been a long pause before the girl had inquired, “So someday I shall be a star?”
“Yes, Jenn.”
“And will my star ever fall?”
“No,” her mother had assured. “You are too beautiful to be cast from the heavens. Yours will outshine all others.”
Despite the pleasant memories, however, none of them had been about her father. On numerous occasions as a child, those moments when