The Last Suitor. A J McMahon
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(not all of which was legal). The side of the tavern that faced the street was a large stone-walled front with tiny windows that let in little light, but which would allow the discharge of weaponry upon anyone foolish enough to attack the building. Nicholas stood unobtrusively to one side and waved his wand to examine the lair of his newly acquired enemies: he soon realised, from the motionless position and spacing of several wands within the building that there were guards, and from the layering and arrangement of the wand protection of the security system itself, that the command centre was situated at the back on the ground floor by the river. The Burke Tavern was, in fact, exactly what it looked like — a fortress. A normal tavern it was not. Nicholas didn’t know what to make of any of this, but he made a careful note of all this so that he would remember it readily in the future and turned away.
Nicholas turned his steps towards home. When he arrived, Ben was nowhere to be found. Nicholas went to his room and sat in a chair, going over what had happened that evening in a spirit of contemplation. Then he remembered that he had acquired money, so he took it out and counted it. It came to two hundred and seventy two strada in total. Given that he had only had sixty three strada to his credit, he now found himself the proud possessor of three hundred and thirty five strada. He put the money away in his pouch and went back to contemplation.
There was a knock on his door and Ben put his head into the room.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
Without speaking, Nicholas waved him in with generous gestures of his hands.
Ben came in and sat on the bed. He looked calmer and more relaxed, but still tense all the same.
‘I didn’t know you could fight like that,’ he said.
‘Father and grandfather both taught me from when I was seven,’ Nicholas told him. ‘Their training was very thorough.’
‘You’ve put me in an awkward position,’ Ben said. ‘You realise that, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Nicholas replied shortly. ‘What awkward position are you talking about?’
‘Do you realise that under the law I am an accessory to robbery?’ Ben asked, without anything remaining of his earlier anger but with a certain residual resentment. ‘You robbed them! Are you mad? What the hell were you thinking?’
‘Justice was done,’ Nicholas said forcefully enough to make clear he would not budge from this point of view.
‘Justice?’ Ben asked incredulously. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? We are talking about a clear point of law.’
‘Never mind the law,’ Nicholas said. ‘I’m talking about justice.’
‘Never mind the law!’ Ben repeated in outrage. ‘Why not say never mind the authorities as well while you are about it?’
Nicholas shrugged. ‘They’re not going to complain to the authorities, are they? They did try to rob us, after all.’
‘Mr Raspero,’ Ben said carefully, ‘that is not the point I am making. Whatever they did, you robbed them. You have committed a crime.’
‘A crime that won’t be reported,’ Nicholas pointed out. ‘So forget the law and the authorities. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.’
Ben hesitated then said, very formally, ‘I am afraid I have to reconsider the extent of my associations with you, Mr Raspero. The events of this evening have shown to me a certain aspect of your character and conduct which leave me in such an awkward position that I must reduce all contact with you to a bare minimum.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Nicholas said indifferently and yawned. ‘You can start right now by leaving if you like.’
Ben shifted his posture as if about to stand up but then said instead, ‘You do understand my position in this matter, don’t you?’
‘I understand that you’re a rabbit who lives in fear,’ Nicholas said with a certain contempt. ‘Is there anything more I need to know?’
Ben flushed with anger at this. ‘I do not rob people, Mr Raspero, but that does not make me a rabbit.’
‘You talk of the law but what of justice. Do you deny that they got what they deserved?’
‘Yes, I do deny that,’ Ben said. ‘They deserved to be reported to the authorities, prosecuted and punished appropriately.’
‘I prosecuted and punished them on the spot myself. What’s the difference?’
‘The difference is that you do not have the authority under law to take such an action.’
‘What is authority?’ Nicholas asked. ‘It’s just a bunch of people with titles they’ve given each other who everyone obeys simply out of habit or fear.’
‘I think there is rather more to it than that,’ Ben said stiffly.
Nicholas shrugged. ‘Maybe. But it was men in authority who —’ He broke off then and said nothing further.
‘Who what?’ Ben asked.
‘Ben, I want you to give me your word of honour that you will never tell anyone else what I am about to tell you.’
‘Will this pledge of confidentiality require me to be an accomplice to another act of criminality?’ Ben asked very stiffly.
‘No, this all happened six centuries ago. No-one will get prosecuted now. Trust me! Now give me your word.’
‘Very well,’ Ben said after a pause. ‘You have my word.’
‘It was men in authority who took Daniel’s family and slaughtered them in front of his eyes,’ Nicholas said.
‘Who was Daniel?’ Ben asked.
‘Daniel was the first Baron of Raspero, Ben. He is your ancestor. His blood flows in your veins and in mine. That is the only reason I am telling you this. I would tell no-one else, and neither will you.’
‘Why was Daniel’s family slaughtered in front of his eyes?’
‘Because he was found to be vandrizald. Do you know what that means?’
‘Vaguely,’ Ben replied. ‘Demons, or something.’
‘It was once believed that the ability to use a wand was only natural to those of noble birth. It was not realised then, as it is now, that it comes from literacy. Those of low birth who could use a wand were thought to be ‘vandrizald’, that is, of demonic origin, and they were killed as soon as they were detected. Not only that, but their whole families were slaughtered down to a precisely defined degree of blood relationship, in order to stamp out the emergence of demonic influences into humanity.’
Ben groaned. ‘If you’re saying that people in authority get things wrong, well, shiver my timbers, I never knew. This was all very harsh for Daniel, but let’s all move on, shall we?’
‘Daniel escaped,’ Nicholas continued, as if Ben had never spoken at all, ‘and nothing is known of him until an eleven-year-old boy arrived at the camp of General Galen Sarkisian, a mercenary general of the time. Sarkisian took him as one of his followers and Daniel became in due course of time a Vadim, that’s like a captain of horse.’
‘This is all very interesting,’ Ben said impatiently, ‘but what does it have to do with anything now?’
‘I am talking about our ancestor, Ben. What happened to him is as real as anything that happens to you or me.’
‘Real or not, it is irrelevant to anything now.’
‘Daniel was taken prisoner at the age of fifteen in some long forgotten battle and thrown into the Silver Mines of Sacramento as a slave. The authorities did this, Ben. Now are you beginning to understand? How would you like to be taken underground at the age of fifteen to spend the rest of your life in darkness, never seeing the sun or the sky, digging up dirt to