Chapter 17
"How unprofessional," Laisha said quietly, weakly.
"There's no need for professionalism here, Laisha," said Raidon. He was staring up at the wooden platform as if his eyes saw more than the men that stood atop it.
A tingle shot through Alistar's body, and he followed his uncle's stare. The crowd had finally dispersed enough for him to see clearly. As he looked up, he caught a pair of eyes staring his way, a fierce gaze that made no effort to hide the object of its observation.
The eyes belonged to a rather short but brawny man. His heavyset frame was clothed by the most extravagant materials that Alistar had ever seen, light and dark shades of red with fur trim closely fitted to his scarlet collar and down the front of a fine cloth tunic. His strong arms and thick neck were adorned with highly reflective jewelry. He wore glistening bracelets and rings of silver, along with a broad necklace, all holding fat gems that matched his clothing in colour. His bearded face was pocketed with scars, closely cropped hair lined with greying streaks. Aside from his outfit, he was almost exactly identical to the guard that had spat on his father's corpse, leaving no mystery to their familial relations.
The man stared down at Alistar as if he were some repulsive creature, the strength and hatred of his gaze causing goosebumps to arise all over his body. Many memories surfaced as he laid eyes on the man, and without thinking he met the almost overbearing stare with a meek glare of his own.
Standing around the former captain of the guard was a variety of people. The faces of several robed figures were shrouded by heavy hoods, red armour poking out from beneath the simple grey cloth. Those around the count wore finer armour than that of the guards, heavier, better maintained and of higher quality. The four workers that had just been released stood among them. Alistar recognized the man who constantly bullied him.
Suddenly, he was being tugged backwards at his elbow. He turned to follow his uncle, who had dragged him into motion.
"Come along, Alistar," Raidon said softly. "Let's take advantage of this free time."
"Shall we have a lesson?" His mother's voice was so weak that he had to strain to hear it. "What would you like to practice, Alie? Shall we work on your speech? Or perhaps mathematics. If you'd like..."—she was interrupted by a fit of coughing—"you may go and fetch Kaila and she may join..."
"Hush now, Laisha," Raidon said, gentler than when he'd addressed Alistar. "Let's take this time to rest."
Alistar hadn't had a lesson in months. The only practice he managed to sneak in was mental review, quietly in his mind during the long hours on the working line. He missed his lessons, but not enough to put additional strain on his mother. The three of them were exhausted, and he would have declined even if his uncle had not spoken up.