A note: the game Aurian and his cohorts are playing, Foxes and Hounds, is very similar to rummy. If you couldn’t tell.

Aurian and Jin: Foxes and Hounds

1

Late on a balmy Plantingmonth night Aurian Koch found himself up in the palace, losing a game of cards narrowly to both a one-eared guardsman and the Prince of the Realm. He was, however, beating the cook’s boy.

At least he had something.

Looking stealth-eyed around the table, he contemplated his last hand. Three Lords of the Manor—he’d saved his best for last. If nobody else had anything good, he might still have a shot. A long shot. Of course, there was always wondering how wise beating the Prince of the Realm at cards actually was—but he figured if the man had wanted to play, he damn well better be ready to lose. Aurian played cards to keep, and he’d had fifteen years of practice in the King’s Guard to prove it.

Of course, when the Prince of the Realm had come up to him at market and asked him if he wanted in on a game, Aurian hadn’t any idea who he was. Judging from the Prince’s attire, he had guessed he was just another cocky merchant’s son with a new suit of clothes. It had taken him halfway to the palace and three or four noblemen bowing in the street to get the idea. He’d been a little afraid then—naturally—but the Prince seemed like an alright sort, for a prince. Aurian got the idea he wanted to prove he was one of the people pretty badly. He had seemed embarrassed when the nobles had bowed to him, and he had taken—annoyingly—to imitating Aurian’s accent when he spoke.

“Every lord,” his father had once explained to him, “goes through a populist phase, usually when they’re too young to know any better. Best to take advantage of it when you see it. They’ll forget it soon enough—when they start controlling their own money, if not before.”

The Prince was squinting around much as Aurian had done. His turn. He was a plain young man, square-faced and thin-lipped—Aurian gave him this much, he looked more at home in plain clothing than any masquerading lord he’d ever seen. Maybe he’d be a good king, someday. A soft touch. He lay down his cards: a two, three, and four of foxes.

“Gods-damned number cards,” the Prince said sheepishly. Aurian wished he’d stop imitating his accent: it made him wonder precisely how stupid he sounded when he talked. The guardsmen drew and lay down an eight of sparrows, and the cook’s boy—lucky on this shot, much as Aurian was—lay down a squire, lady and lord of hounds.

Aurian lay down his last three cards. “Foxes and hounds,” he proclaimed proudly. “Count up, gentlemen.”

And, miraculously, he had won. By five points, but he had still won. Let that teach the Prince to imitate his accent. The Prince, however, was grinning.

“Well and bravely done,” he said. “You’re a fine hand at cards, Mr. Koch. How much do I owe you?”

Knowing better than to press his luck, Aurian said: “I thought we weren’t playing for money, Sire.”

“My name is Brendan. Sire is my father.” Aurian wasn’t certain if he was supposed to find this funny or not, so he settled on a smile. “I insist—let me fetch you something, at least. You must have spared a good deal of time from your labors to play this game with us.”

“From my…oh. Yes.” Aurian had forgotten. He was supposed to be one of the virtuous poor. He decided it was better not to mention the tavern, or all the ale, or the fact that he wasn’t entirely certain he had ever actually worked a day in his life. “Yes, a valuable few hours I could have spent…farming.” The guardsman turned a laugh into a cough. “Nothing like sweat to cleanse the soul of sins, you know.”

The Prince didn’t bother to disguise his laugh, which was surprisingly deep and honest. “Funny,” he said. “You’re funny. Why don’t you walk with me, Mr. Koch? I’d like to speak with you.”

Deciding it would be unwise to refuse, Aurian nodded agreement. The Prince gathered up his cards and stored them in a pouch at his belt. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. The cook’s boy and the guardsman bid them goodbye and exited without bowing—Aurian got the feeling they had been a part of many games like this before.

When they were gone, Aurian asked: “what about them? Are you paying them?”

“Double their salary,” the Prince said, smiling fondly. “I like to reward my friends.”

Friends. Aurian felt a bit sorry for him.

The Prince led him down a long and drafty stone corridor and into a long and drafty room. The large bed near the window and ornately carved armoire suggested it was a bedroom—the tapestries and paintings which covered the wall did little to hide the room’s coldness. In spite of the room’s opulence, Aurian couldn’t imagine himself living in such a place. After a little rummaging, the Prince pulled an ivory comb from a chest beside the bed.

“This is of more sentimental value than monetary,” he said. “If you’d prefer gold, I can give it to you. It was my late mother’s—do you have a wife, Aurian Koch?”

“I’m not the marrying type,” Aurian admitted. The Prince’s face fell—by all the gods, Aurian swore mentally, does this man want me to bloody marry him? Not that he wouldn’t do it—never having to worry about money again might well be worth being the man-wife of a naïve prince.

He did feel a little bad, seeing the crestfallen expression on the younger man’s face. “I do,” he said, “have a female tenant with very straggly hair.” He couldn’t picture Jin wearing anything more elegant than dragonskin gauntlets, but it would be nice to give her something—something pretty. Or maybe he was just going as crazy as she was. “She might like it.”

“Would it please you, to give it to her?”

“It would,” he admitted. The Prince had that foolish smile on his face again. Aurian wondered a little at himself for passing up the chance at gold—but self-interest did demand a prince’s feelings go before his own coffers. Besides, Jin probably wouldn’t like it, and it would still fetch a pretty penny at market. His thoughts returned to serving girls.

“Then you shall have it,” the Prince said excitedly. He seemed to have forgotten Aurian’s accent—thank the gods. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Koch.” He wrapped it in silk and handed it over. The comb, on closer inspection, was very finely made—two dragons intertwined as the handle, each with a tiny set of ruby eyes. Aurian was pleased, and pocketed it.

“Thanks,” he said. “That was…actually, that was really nice of you.”

“It was nothing,” the Prince said. The smile had not left his face. It occurred to Aurian, suddenly, that this man—boy, really—was truly glad to be giving him something. He wondered if this niceness came from his heart or his doubtless overflowing treasury. It was certainly not the only memory he would have of his mother’s. Her body was probably on display in the King’s Mausoleum, ready to be remembered whenever the Prince cared to. “If I can ask—what is it you really do?”

“I’m a farmer.”

“Aurian,” the Prince said gently. “I’m not an idiot.”

A little surprised, Aurian sheepishly replied: “Well, I’m an Innkeeper. Aurian Koch Tavern and Inn. Spent fifteen years in your father’s guard, though—local chapter. We did a lot of—guarding.”

“And card playing, apparently.”

“Sentry duty got very boring.”

The Prince laughed again. “Well,” he said. “I should like to stay at your inn some day. Perhaps the next time I find myself in this town, if I ever do again.”

Thinking of the amount of cleaning and scrubbing he would have to do for this visit, Aurian said: “I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Well,” the Prince said. But Aurian’s attention had been caught by something else—a ray of moonlight had fallen on one of the paintings, a large and imposing portrait of a woman in armor. She was a very familiar looking woman—or would have been, if she hadn’t had two eyes.

“What is it?” the Prince asked. “You look very disturbed.”

“That picture,” Aurian asked, pointing. He almost didn’t want to know. “Who is that?”

The Prince’s face didn’t exactly fall when he asked—there was a level of reverence and solemnity to it, almost worship, that Aurian found distinctly uncomfortable. “That,” the Prince said, “is the Nordin Mael, the Maiden of the North. Have you never heard that story?”

“We don’t hear a lot from the North, here in the heart of the Midlands.”

“It’s a story worth hearing,” the Prince said. “Shall we walk?”

As they threaded their way down narrow corridors: “Even this far south you must know that the Lords of the North have many quarrels amongst themselves. Their civil wars are ruthless and without law—women and children are raped and murdered, entire cities are put to the torch. The Lords of the North care for nothing but their own wealth and power.” The Prince stopped for a moment. I am not that way, his silence plaintively begged. Not all nobility is that way.

Aurian almost responded out loud: give it a few years.

“The most recent war between the Northern houses took place ten years ago near the border, so near the King was a little worried it would roll over into the Midlands. We had drawn a force of the King’s Guard together—I’m surprised, actually, that your local legion wasn’t called up. We were waiting for action when something unheard of in the history of the Northern houses happened.

“She came from nowhere, Houseless and untraceable. She must have gone to every town in the Northlands, gathering her army—because she came with ten thousand men, tradesmen and lords and beggars alike from every House imaginable. Some of them didn’t even have hatchets to defend themselves with. Some of them had no horses—I myself saw a lord in silk and armor carrying a man with no shoes on the back of his horse as if he were a squire. They came to stop the war—every House and every station. Unified. They hunted out the Lords and they slew them. They razed their castles, sent their women out into the villages. They brought peace to those lands. I don’t know how she did it, what power she used to convince them to join together. It must have been something close to magic—or perhaps people only needed a push in the right direction.”

He took a deep breath. “I never knew her, but she changed me. Those ten thousand men—together, what could they not accomplish? With faith, belief—the knowledge that things should be better. I am not a fool, Aurian Koch. I am perhaps too kindhearted—or this is what my father tells me—but I truly believe that a common man has the same power of life as I do. I have to believe it. I saw it. I saw great Kings obey a woman of no known station or House. I saw beggars and knights die on the same field, comfort and greet each other as friends. And if, someday, I am to rule, I would like all of the people of the Midlands on my side. Not just a few. We’re peaceful here, but who knows what might one day happen? I saw her riding across the battlefield unarmed, white as flame. It made me a better man.”

Aurian had forgotten to walk. The Prince waited, kindly, for him to regain his senses.

“Prince,” he said at last. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but my tenant—the lady the comb is meant for. She looks quite a bit like this Nordin Mael. What—what became of her?”

The Prince was silent for a moment. Aurian was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “She died,” he said at last, softly. “Ten years ago. I saw her die—I wanted to help, to stop them from killing her, but the King’s orders were to stand down and wait for trouble to cross the borders. It nearly did—the fighting came within feet of us—but she fell in the North and I was powerless. I watched them tear her down from her horse. And I am not sure—now that I am older and perhaps wiser—I am not sure I would have obeyed my father’s orders. I wish I hadn’t. She could have united all of them, stopped their fighting. But they killed her. Her own countrymen!”

He was actually weeping. Touched and a little uncomfortable, Aurian put a hand on his shoulder. “You did what you were supposed to do,” he said. “I was a soldier as well. I understand.”

Thinking: Oh, Jin. No wonder you wouldn’t go home. They walked in silence to the back entrance of the castle. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, and the warm summer rain blew in through the door on the wind. The Prince didn’t seem to care how wet he got, red-eyed and grim. Aurian felt like he owed him something, so he cleared his throat and said:

“Look, Brendan. I underestimated you. You’re not a bad sort—and, someday, you’ll be a good king. Try to keep the thought of that woman in you. Remember her and remember how she died. Us common men, we’ll love you if you treat us well—but keep your armor on. Someone will always hate you, if only because you can tell him what to do.” Aurian felt a sad smile tug at the corners of his own mouth. “I’ll tell my tenant who she resembles. She’d be very proud.”

“Go well, my friend,” The Prince said. “I wish I knew more men who would speak to me as honestly as you.”

“Honesty has a surprising number of faces,” Aurian told him. “By the way—I’m curious. How exactly did this woman die?”

“Two men with spears,” the Prince said. “One stabbed her straight in the eye.”

2

“Gods of darkness,” Jin swore, “you’re soaked! It’s not raining that heavily outside—what’d you do, fall in a puddle?” She was well into her fifth tumbler of ale. The Inn’s only customer, one of the town drunks, was red-facedly asleep on the floor next to her bench.

“I took a bit of a walk,” Aurian said. “I wound up playing a game of cards with the Prince of the Realm, of all people. He’s an interesting man—gave me a few things to think about.” He found out he couldn’t look at her. He went to the keg and poured himself a tankard of ale, sitting down next to her and staring straight ahead.

White as flame, he thought. Almost bitterly. “Hey, Jin. Where’re you from, again?”

“The seventh level of hell,” Jin said cheerfully. “There’s a spot reserved for hard-drinking harpies. What’s with the attitude, gloomy-guts?”

“I guess it’s the weather.” He took out the silk-wrapped comb. “I have something for you.”

She unwrapped it and gasped. “Oh, Aurian. It’s beautiful—and utterly useless. Let’s pawn it.”

Aurian had to admit, it was tempting. But: “No,” he said at last. “Keep it. It was a gift to you from an old friend of yours.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jin said. “I don’t have any friends.”

“You’d be amazed.”