Once upon a time there was a manservant who did not behave like a manservant should. He was disrespectful, loudmouthed and poking his nose in things he had no right poking in. But the prince was indulgent and despite complaints, instead of banishing his manservant, or giving him a good lashing to discipline him, he ignored everyone, even the king, his father.
An unlikely friendship grew between the two and the prince was seen to rely more and more on his manservant’s humour, company and advice. Though he remained a manservant officially, he soon became the prince’s confidante and if rumours were to be believed, his lover as well.
The rumours reached the king, and angry that such a boy could hold sway over the heir apparent, he ordered his son to break all ties with the boy. Order thus given the king shifted his focus to other kingly duties. Contrary to popular belief, keeping the prince in line was not his main job.
The king should have known that there were always grains of truth in any rumour. The prince and the manservant were so enamoured with each other, the thought of not being together was unthinkable. So they did what any young couple in love would do. They snuck into the treasury, chose enough coin to get them on a ship and far from the king’s influence and justice. In the dead of night, they ran away, never to be heard of from again.
Until years later, when the king was dead, and his empire was under siege, a prince now grown to a fearsome warrior, a manservant now grown to a powerful mage, united the lands and ruled over them with an iron fist and a gentle heart.
*
As Mr. Chubs stopped, the polite applause that greeted him startled him terribly. It wasn’t the norm for him. He was entertaining the guests of a powerful man in Harkness, a merchant who owned three ships. The only reason Mr. Chubs had agreed to such a summons was his dire need of coin.
When he had decided to settle in Harkness because of its tolerance for storytellers and performers, he hadn’t anticipated the flipside. There was too much competition and variety. His premise of setting up his wagon on a roadside and offering a story to anyone who would part with a coin, or the more daring, reciting to a tavern filled with half-drunks, simply could not find sustenance here.
Though he loathed nobles and what they represented, this merchant was neither. In size and stature and temperament he was much like Mr. Chubs himself. It was like looking in a mirror, he thought with surprising disdain. His soul smote him for selling his stories cheap but he had to give it a stern lecture. It was well and good to be fussy when one had a sack full of coins. He was in no position to be fussy.
So he had agreed to attend the party, much to Frendwig’s delight. It was the interest he had extracted for parting with Tebough’s treatise. He hoped it was the last thing he demanded. Mr. Chubs was all out of favours to give.
Just because he was here under duress did not mean Mr. Chubs did not have any ammunition to do what he really wanted – teach people something. So he chose stories that would normally be frowned upon in such illustrious company. It mattered naught to him that the story of the prince and the manservant came close to his own truth.
He was mingling with the crowd, nodding, smiling, clutching a glass of wine in his hand like it was a lifeline when a young boy of fifteen named Tully stopped him in his rounds.
“Was that story Gregor approved?”
Mr. Chubs touched his nose, shrugged and chugged his wine. Tully snagged another glass for him and offered it like it was a piece of valuable jewellery.
“Who are you and where have you come from?”
He took a bow and said, “Why I’m the travelling librarian of course.”
Tully gulped down his own wine but without the finesse that Mr. Chubs had displayed. He gasped, a fine trickle of wine emerging from his nose. He was red in the face as he snatched the kerchief that Mr. Chubs handed him, mopping his face and blowing his nose, trying to ignore the chuckle.
As a means to recover, Tully said, “You made a grave mistake trusting Frendwig with your stories. He told me of them. They sound quite…revealing…if you will.”
Mr. Chubs’ entire being suffused with warmth and a sudden flight or fight reaction seized him in its grip, making him incapable of moving. He would have thought that after nine years of being on the run, he would have been used to this, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t.
He managed though to not show any change outwardly on his visage. “What could you possibly mean Master Tully?”
“Arthur Uriel Banes,” he said silkily. “You know of him. And I want that information.”
He dropped the glass he couldn’t help it. Thankfully, the merchant was rich and the floor was carpeted. The glass didn’t shatter and call attention to them. It only bounced around a bit, before coming to a stop under a table. He tried to recall what the stories he had parted with contained that would lead Tully to make such a connection. He couldn’t think of anything.
“What gave it away?”
Tully touched his nose and tried to mimic the exaggerated bow that Mr. Chubs had given him not a moment ago. He did not say that it had been Frendwig who had made the connection. He had given Tully a fifteen-minute explanation for it but he had tuned the man out. The explanation didn’t matter. What mattered was that Mr. Chubs knew the man. The talk of renegades uniting under the banner of Banes as some sort of a messiah of Reifire had run through Harkness like wildfire and Tully obviously wanted a piece of it.
Tully was not a lot of things but he was rather adept at ferreting out secrets. It was one of the reasons his father liked to take him on meetings, even if Tully didn’t relish using his powers for something as mundane as business and profit.
He was young still, and spoilt, to not understand that the business and profit were things that bought him his luxury.
Mr. Chubs sighed, as if resigned. He cursed Frendwig for good measure. “What do you want?”
Tully smiled liked a snake. He looked older than his fifteen years, far crueller too. “To be your apprentice.”
Taken aback, he stuttered out, “I have no need of one.” He snagged another wine glass and gulped it down.
“It wasn’t an offer.”
“I cannot afford you,” he tried again.
“I don’t need your money,” said Tully with a flourish of his hands that encompassed the room they were in, “just your stories.”
He opened his mouth to protest again but Tully raised a hand. “Say yes. I’m not really giving you a choice.”
Mr. Chubs closed his eyes. Had he really thought Harkness had had the “right” atmosphere? Had he really thought Frendwig would be the worst thing he’d have to deal with here? He suddenly wished he could go back in time and knock some sense into himself.
This is Chapter 5 of 26 of The Travelling Librarian series. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
Psst: I also have 2 ebooks on Kindle – and if you’re on Kindle Unlimited, they’re free!
- Read The Gunslinger here.
- Read 23 Letters of Love here.
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