Michelle West - The Sun Sword 02 - The Uncrowned King by The Uncrowned King Read Free Book Online

the old man had spoken. "They all practically worship you. They'd stop breathing and turn blue if you told them to hold their breaths. Hells, they'd probably parade around the Commons without any clothing."
    "But not without their swords surely," was the old man's sober reply. "You mistake them."
    "No, I don't." Aidan shrugged. Balled his hands into fists and crossed them behind his slightly bent back. '"Because I'd do the same damn thing, if you told me to. If you'd accept
me
as a student. I'd do it, too."
    "I think," the old man said quietly, "that I would not take a student who had so little sense of self. They listen to me because I speak of the sword and the Challenge when I speak to them at all, and they know that my knowledge in this regard is superior to theirs. Were I to speak, instead, of women, I think they would humor me because of that knowledge—but they Would take no orders of mine. Two of them are better riders now than I have ever been, and if they had beneath them the mount that I was given for the Challenge, they would be unstoppable here. But we two, that horse and I, we were chosen for our strengths; riding him,
I
won the race. That man," he said, pointing to one of his students, "will win the rider's wreath." There was no doubt whatever in his voice. "But I digress. They listen, but they do not worship me, boy. I am not the Lord."
    Aidan would have argued, but he realized that at least two of those students suddenly looked less friendly than they had only moments before—which said a lot, as they'd never looked particularly friendly. It hadn't occurred to him that any of the other Southerners could speak Weston until that moment, and it made him feel at a disadvantage.
    One of the men, the one, in fact, that the old man had pointed out, opened his mouth. Spoke two words. The old man—no, he
had
to stop thinking about him that way—
Ser Anton di'Guivera
lifted a hand and swatted them away as if they were flies. Well, more exactly, he crushed them.
    Aidan was distinctly glad that no part of his life depended upon the goodwill of that student. It was too bad, though; he was one of the two really good ones.
    Talent
, his mother used to say,
tells you nothing at all about the man. Don't judge anything by it
. It was true, but it was always disappointing when someone who was living his dream didn't live up to the dream itself.
    He glanced to the side and found that the old man's eyes were upon him. "He doesn't understand most of what you say," he said with a wry smile. "He merely dislikes you on principle. He wishes to be surrounded by his peers, and has enough wit to be suspicious of the unusual—you, in this case—without any instinct whatsoever to fall back upon for discretion's sake.
    "He is also," Ser Anton added, "preparing in his own way for the trials. He likes too many things, too much: food, wine, the company of young women. But he has a sense of respect for his art, and although there is no question at all that he will be accepted as one of the hundred, he will give these trials the same respect as the Challenge itself. That alone sets him apart from the many rather unremarkable young men he resembles. It's not just about talent, although talent does count. Focus. Concentration. Ambition. Without these, no man amounts to anything."
    "In the eyes of the Lord," Aidan said quietly, thinking uncomfortably of his father.
    The old man raised a solid brow. "Indeed," he said softly. "In the eyes of the Lord."
    The trial administrators were a bored group of men. They resembled, more than anything; merchants, as they sat in high-backed chairs behind their solid, heavy desks. They even had paper and slate, ink and chalk, before them. Names were taken, and numbers given, numbers written down.
    The old man—Ser Anton—smiled a little grimly. "This," he said, "is where most of our day will surely be spent."
    "Do they do this where you live?"
    "They do 'this' as you call it," Ser Anton said, "in every land