Fox’s Tongue and Kirin’s Bone

Chapter 4: The King's Heirs, Long May They Live

Do I know you? John Baker rubbed at his newly released arm, his blue eyes darting between Aaron and the girl.

Aaron, he held out his hand. By the time he realized hed said Aaron instead of Markus, the boy was already shaking it with cautious politeness and no Deaths had shown up to smite him. So it was okay? Probably? And this is ah

Mabel Martinson, the western girl offered, along with her own hand. Like maple, except not.

John, the blond was still looking between them and the boys Aaron had dragged him away from, like he was trying to decide which fire hed rather roast in. John Baker. Which isnt my real name at all, but father warned me that Id stand out too much if I kept going by Jahnalistrin, and Baker just sounds good, doesnt it? Because Im trying to get hired as the bakers boy so

The boy seemed to realize he was babbling and clapped a hand over his mouth. Owlish blue eyes flicked between Aaron, Mabel, and the boys farther back in line.

Go back to them if you want. Aaron gave a shrug. Just figured Id give you a leg up in line, if youd rather not talk bird for them.

The boy lowered his hand. And his eyes. He tugged his white cloak straighter. Well. I guess I dont mind being farther up, if no one minds me cutting.

The man behind them looked a bit like he did, but he grumped something under his breath and turned his eyes away. Good enough for Aaron. Good enough for John, too, it seemed. The boy stayed with them.

You from the enclaves? Mabel leaned down to stare at himrather far down, for her. The boys gaze dropped farther. Not meaning to pry, Ive just never met an enclave man. They all as sparkly-white as you? My ma went up north once to bring down our new ballistae. Finest weapon smiths in Last o the Isles, she told me. Those ballistae are real beauties. Targeting like an eagles eyes. I cant hardly stand to handle the old ones, youre better off chuckin the spear yerself

As the aspiring scribe kept up her steady stream of praise, the enclave boy slowly stood up straighter, like a young hawk puffing its feathers. Aaron leaned back against the wall, satisfied.

You man the walls, then? John asked.

Aye, my whole family. Weve got a head for the targeting, captain says. A bit hard to bring on the road, though, so Ive this little lady instead. She gave an affectionate pat to her oilskin package. From the size, it was probably a long bow. Yerself?

I can shoot a crossbow straight enough.

You got it on you? The scribe continued her invasion of the boys personal space, one inch at a time. Ive heard of enclave bows. Can shoot through dragon scale, cant they? Or is that just a tale?

The boy colored slightly and took a step back from her exuberance. I dont have one of those. Sorry.

What do you have, then?

IIve got my travel papers, but I havent registered with the militia in this city yet, so I havent been to the armory

The girl rocked back on her heels, rather like a willow in wind. You were out and travelin unarmed? I dont care if youve got armored merchants three deep in steel plate between you and the road, thats just not safe. Not safe at all. It was with a belated blink that she added, Whatre travel papers?

What about you, Aaron? the boy asked, his voice cracking somewhere in the middle.

Aarons shoulders snapped straight as both their gazes fell on him. He didnt blame the boy for diverting the westerners attention, but he wished it hadnt been towards him. The militia wasnt exactly his favorite topic, either, given that it was a rather mandatory thing, and given that he wasnt a member. Nothing special. Daggers, mostly.

Mabel blew a strand of hair from her face. Well of course daggers

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. But whats yer training? You a tower ringer? You look like a tower ringer. No offense, but youre scrawnier than me and thats sayin all.

Look, the gate is opening, John said it like the distraction it was, leaning out into the street to make the proclamation even more dramatic. Mabel stood up as tall as she could and looked over the crowd. Aaron caught the boys eyes and mouthed a silent thanks. He earned a quick grin by way of reply.

Think well see the king? John asked.

Thats what I was askin.

I sincerely

A knobbly elbow shut him up. Aaron rubbed at his side and peered around her.

The royal standard snapped in the wind as the crown prince stepped out. Aaron turned up his collar, trying to ward off the chill brushing its way down his spine.

If you say a single thing to him, Markus Death hissed in his ear, one single thing, youll be as dead as you should be.

Aarons shoulders locked into a cold, straight line. He didnt turn to look at the man. He remembered his own Deaths warning well enough, and hed no intention of outing himself in a crowd this size. But showing noreaction was a bit hard when a man just suddenly appeared like that. Never mind that the mans words needed some clarification.

The prince? It was possibly the stupidest set of sounds to ever come out of Aarons mouth.

Aint it? Mabel grinned, with a friendly elbow to his ribs. Walkin tall, too. Let yer fancy capital doctors fuss all they want, our hedge mothers know how to get a man back on his feet. Trick is not to coddle them.

The crown prince had almost died that spring, fighting on the dragon border. Was he like Aaron now? Could he see?

No, not the prince, Markus Death said. Say whatever you want to the prince, I dont care. Or dont, that would be even better. How about you dont say anything? Not to the prince, either of them, and not to me. In fact, dont open your mouth at all. Do we have an understanding? Nod.

Aaron nodded.

Orin OShea was everything a blood noble should be. He stood tall, walked with confidence, and acknowledged the crowd with brief nods when they addressed him. His coat was as red as the royal standard, its buttons done up with dragons of gold.

Either of them, the Death had said. Which made the boy walking at the crown princes side Connor OShea. Aaron had never seen him before. Not unusual, given how little time Aaron spent in places royalty might go. The boy must be thirteen now. That was clear enough, given that they were walking straight for the militias table. John stretched himself out a bit too far into the street and earned a suspicious stare from one of the redcoats that encircled the royal brothers.

Once the small entourage was past, Aaron saw exactly who he was not to speak to. It wasnt the crown prince that Markus Death was referring to. It was the figure that walked a few paces behind.

He bore the elder princes likeness, in everything except his clothing and his state of life. Orins Death trailed his charge, one hand held in front of his mouth to catch a yawn.

Dont act like you can see him. Markus Death insisted into his ear. Or hear him. Oror smell him. Whatever it is you cave rats Why hello, what a pleasure! Its been far too long.

So this is the great Markus? The princes Death walked through the crowd as if it werent even there, people stepping aside to make a path for him without looking at what they moved for. He leaned forward and, with impeccably bored expression, stared Aaron straight in the eyes.

Even with warnings from both his Deaths, it took all of Aarons will to keep his eyes from focusing, to pretend he was looking past the man to the real princes.

Not impressed. The new Death straightened back up. What are you doing here?

Markus Death spun his rings. I could ask you the same. Yours has a few weeks left in him, doesnt he?

A few weeks, a few minuteswhats the difference? May as well be bored on this backwater than bored on the continent. He wore the princes same thick braid, the red so dark it looked rusted. He pulled it over his shoulder, where his hands could worry at it as he turned dark green eyes back towards his charge. Youre lucky to have had so many lives away from court. This has been a pleasant vacation, I will admit. Twenty-two years is too short.

Is the continent truly so bad?

The continent is truly so dramatic. As if everything doesnt have the same end. In case there was any doubt of what that end may be, the man gestured to himself rather floridly.

Markus Death wrapped an arm around his compatriots shoulders, steering him farther away from Aaron. I am centuriesbehind on my gossip. You simply must catch me up. How about we talk somewhere a bit less mortal? Theres a charming spot down by Three Havens where the fey have been laying another trap for us. Ill show you their spell work, if youd like.

A smile flickered over the other Deaths lips. That could be briefly entertaining, I admit.

From one step to the next, the two men disappeared.

Aaron wiped sweaty palms off on a dead boys pants.

Hes so cute, Mabel said. Did we all look that small when it was our turn for swearin in?

The fire-headed younger prince stood in front of the militia booth. His elder brother stood with him, looking healthy and strong and not about to die in a few weeks time. Not of natural causes, in any case. Assassination, then? Pity. The crown prince was fairly well liked, even considering his father.

Well. Apparently not liked by all.

John stared at the scene, his head tilted quizzically. Wheres the king? Dont fathers present in the south?

Wheres his sister, for that matter, Mabel asked. Shes not unfit, is she? I thought that were a rumor.

The Iron Captain did not stand as the princes approached. In this, she outranked them. But her voice was strong and it carried. And who do we have here?

The boy straightened himself up. Connor OShea, sir. I, ah, I give myself, he glanced down briefly. Give myself freely to humanitys militia, to defend this, our Last Reign. I will stand besides my, ah, my brothers and sisters, with shield, sword, and blood, and

Mabel grinned. The little cheat, hes got it writ on his hand.

He did, and she wasnt the only one whod noticed. A ripple of laughter went through those waiting in the street. Especially the other thirteen-year-olds waiting their turn. The young prince flashed a grin over his shoulder, then kept muddling his way through with shoulders proudly squared. The crown prince was doing his utmost to stare straight ahead with enough dignity in his rigid spine for the both of them.

So I swear, the boy finished, to a mix of scattered applause, laughter, and the occasional frown from the sort of folks with too much serious in them to ever be pleased by anything.

Well. That was all the words in the right order, I suppose. The Captain stared at the boy long enough to get him hunching those shoulders of his, then shifted her gaze. And who speaks for this young man?

I do, the crown prince spoke. Orin OShea, captain in His Majestys guards, by the grace of the citizens militia.

You swear on your blood he is human, and strictly kept?

I do.

Then, Connor OShea, be welcome in mans militia. I assign you to the royal guard. Most children werent assigned their places until after the winters training. But then, most children werent princes.

That should have been that. Connor should have signed his name to humanitys rolls and let the next child take his place in line. But he didnt step forward to the table. Instead, words kept tumbling from his mouth. My sister. Rose. She wants to join, too

Orin set a hand on his shoulder and pursed his lips. A little whistle of birdsong cut the air, so quick it could easily be missed by anyone without the ears to hear it. Not here, it said.

John caught his breath.

Prince Connor stiffened under the touch, but stopped talking. He signed the paper like a good boy and the entourage swept him and his brother back into the castle. But he cast a glance over his shoulder as he went, towards the Iron Captain, and there was no mistaking the pleading note there. The old woman met his eyes, but her own expression was unreadable.

With the princes gone, the line opened up to the rest of the city. Mothers stood with daughters and fathers with sons as their own children tripped their way through the militias oath.

He speaks our language, Johns breath came out in a rush. The crown prince of Last Reign, and he speaks our language.

Or at least enough of it to use as code, in a city where most didnt know a word. Aaron didnt have the heart to spoil the boys mood by saying as much.

So is the princess unfit? Its all sorts of stories, out west. Cripple, daft, changeling Mabel trailed off, looking to Aaron for an answer.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. Theyre all the same rumors here. Probably shes just simple, and theyre waiting to see if she can follow orders in a fight. Not like everyone can be captain-smart, anyway.

Did you hear him, the prince was speaking my language!

Aaron raised an eyebrow at the blond boy. You all right, there?

I need to find a scribe, I need to write home right now, you have no idea what this will mean. A blood noble, an OShea, taking the trouble to learn His next words came out more as an excited whistling twitter than anything else, too fast for Aaron to understand. The boy clapped a hand over his mouth and dropped his gaze as some redcoats over at the militias table frowned his way.

Im a scribe. Least, Im tryin to be, Mabel unwisely mentioned.

The morning wore on. They could hear the fair getting started over in the city proper. Pipes and drums and laughter drifted down the streets, and the shifting wind carried the scents of bread and stew and sweeter things to his nose. Aaron sat back down once the excitement with the princes was over. The gates had opened for the interviews, but the line was moving slowly, and hed not slept since well, awhile. The smells made his stomach stir, but he wasnt feeling shaky, so he let it be. Hed dip into his pocket pantry when he needed to, not because he was just a little hungry.

Mabel had unrolled her oilskin package. The longbow was in there, just as hed suspected, but so was a whole array of rolled parchments and brushes and tightly wrapped ink pots. Some of the pages were full already. Aaron was no expert on written things, but the lines looked straight enough to him. The ones that wiggled off into feathery flares still looked confident, so he guessed that was just how they were supposed to be. He set his arms on his knees and his chin on top and drifted in and out of sleep as John dictated an extremely detailed letter home.

It was the alarm bell that woke him. The brass rang clear in the air: a single strike.

One, one, death has come.

Well. That was Markus found, then.