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smackenzieLowe was much more friendly and social around women when there wasn’t any sexual innuendo in the conversation. It didn’t hurt that Hazel Vine and her dog were a little distracted. But she seemed glad to have the company, and her dog, which was named Toast, which Alex thought was kind of a silly name for a dog, sat under the table with his nose on the bench and only barked until Hazel fed him.
“Did you ever find a place to send your letter?” Lowe asked her politely. She nodded.
“I went into the shop next door to the place where I met you, and the stationer there gave me directions,” she said. “I think because I bought some letter paper for him.” She didn’t sound very pleased about that. “Although he might have told me just to get Toast out of his shop.” She reached under the table and patted her dog on the head. She’d sat down on the end of the bench next to Alex with the dog between them. Alex wondered how Toast would like Master Damon’s cat Curt. Curt wasn’t the friendliest cat Alex had ever met, although he generally stayed out of your way unless you wanted to open the press, because it was his favorite place to sit. That and the work table by the window, for the few hours a day when that part of the shop got any direct sun. Unfortunately, the few hours the cat liked to lie on the table always seemed to coincide with the hours someone – usually Alex – wanted to work there.
“Where are you from?” Alex asked Hazel. He could already tell her name was going to confuse him, because he kept thinking of Master Damon’s daughter Hazel. Although he could call this one Hazel Vine, which was what she said was her full name, and in his head Master Damon’s daughter would just have to be Hazel Clary.
“Redhill. You’ve probably never heard of it.” Alex shook his head. But then, he’d never heard of a lot of places, mostly because he’d never been to any of them. Lowe was better with kingdom geography than he was. “It’s about four or five days walking south and west. Mostly west. But I stopped a few times longer than I planned, and I had the dog. But we did get a ride in a cart the last day – the driver – he was bringing his wife’s cheese to the big market – he brought us all the way inside the city. He was very nice. People have generally been very nice to me.”
“It’s a nice city.” Alex drank some of his beer. “What are you doing here? Lowe said you were looking for a prince.”
“My teacher, Marcus, told me I needed to find one of the princes. He said the prince was missing and he’d be king someday, and I had to find him.” She sighed. “I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know what he looks like. I don’t know what any of the royal family looks like. Where is a prince going to hide?”
“Anywhere,” Lowe said. “Are you sure he’s still in the city?”
“No,” she admitted. “I only think so because Marcus said he was, and Marcus is usually right about these kinds of things.”
“And you have nothing to go on?” Alex said. “What does he expect you to do? Ask every man you meet if he’s a prince?”
“He has a chicken-shaped birthmark on his, uh, on his behind.” Alex wasn’t sure but he thought she might have blushed. But how strange she should say that.
“That’s interesting,” he commented. “Lowe has a birthmark shaped like a chicken on his ass.”
Lowe kicked him hard under the table. Alex blinked and bit back an “Ow, that HURT.” He was too surprised to say a word or even do anything other than blink and stare, and reach under the table to rub his leg.
“These sausages really aren’t very good,” Lowe said blandly, as if nothing had happened. Alex sat up but was still staring at him. Lowe chewed and swallowed. Alex turned and stared at Hazel, who was looking from one to the other uncomprehendingly, but also a little curiously.
“That hurt,” Alex finally said to Lowe, and then “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Tell you what?” The look Lowe gave him was as innocent as a baby’s. Alex resisted the urge to glare. He’d always kind of suspected that there was something Lowe wasn’t telling him, but in all the time they’d known each other he’d never thought that whatever Lowe’s secrets might be, they were anywhere near this major.
A runaway prince. Hiding in plain sight, in his house, in his bed. Working as a copyist and scripter of formal documents. When Alex met him, Lowe was working long hours bent over a desk, writing out certificates and diplomas and announcements in fancy, formal script. A king’s son.
“Prince Derek?” Hazel said to Lowe. “Derek Lysander. You didn’t say anything yesterday when I told you I was looking for the prince. Although,” she went on, more talking to herself than to either Alex or Lowe, “if you were trying to hide, you wouldn’t have said anything, would you?” Lowe just looked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Now Alex wanted to kick him under the table. So he did.
“Hey!” Lowe said. “What was that for?”
“Prince Derek,” Alex said. “I’ve been sleeping with a prince for a year. How did I never figure that out?”
“Have you ever met any of the royal family?” Hazel asked him curiously. “I mean, how would you know?”
“I guess I wouldn’t. I’ve seen the king from a distance, but I think everyone probably has. From very far away, though. I don’t think anyone would recognize him if he were dressed as a merchant, or a baker. Or a copyist.”
Lowe looked entirely unrepentant. If anything, he looked a little peeved at having been caught. Alex wasn’t sure what to think now. He was upset that Lowe had never told him, but he could understand why. Or at least he thought he could. And it did explain some things – Lowe’s tendency to expect Alex to drop everything when he wanted Alex’s attention, and his moments of spoiled brat, and the way he couldn’t remotely take care of himself for any length of time.
“What are you going to do now that we know?” Alex asked. Lowe shrugged.
“Nothing,” he said, forking up the last piece of sausage and popping it in his mouth. Alex and Hazel had to wait for him to finish chewing and swallow before he’d go on. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Go back to the palace,” Hazel said. “What else?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the prince. You have to.”
“Again, I ask ‘Why?’”
“It’s my destiny.” She said it very seriously, but Lowe laughed. Alex was tempted to kick him again.
“It’s not mine. I’m the fifth son. The best I can hope for is someone telling me what to do for the next ten years instead of twenty. They’ll marry me off to some girl, send me to some distant estate, if I’m lucky I might get to stay here as part of the king’s council, or sent to a neighboring kingdom as an ambassador. In any case I’ll be living someone else’s life, fulfilling someone else’s idea of what a king’s son does. I don’t want to be a court puppet. I want to have my own life.”
“But... you’re a prince. Your father is going to die eventually, and then your half brothers and half sister, and then your older brother. You’ll be next for the throne. A month or two after the current king dies, you’ll be next.” She sounded so sincere.
“You don’t know that,” Lowe said. “Besides, a year and a half ago my father was trying to circumvent the legal succession in order to place the twins next for the throne, bypassing the first five of us altogether.”
“But he hasn’t done it yet.”
“No. He hasn’t. At least, not that we know down here. A lot of things happen in the royal chambers that never reach the ears of the people. I went missing and no one knows.”
“We do, now,” Alex pointed out.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have this conversation here. I’d rather not have it at all.”
Lowe pushed back his end of the bench, stood up, and walked out of the pub. Hazel and Alex watched him go.
“I didn’t expect that to happen,” Hazel said.
“I didn’t either.”
words: 1460
total words: 19,362
“Did you ever find a place to send your letter?” Lowe asked her politely. She nodded.
“I went into the shop next door to the place where I met you, and the stationer there gave me directions,” she said. “I think because I bought some letter paper for him.” She didn’t sound very pleased about that. “Although he might have told me just to get Toast out of his shop.” She reached under the table and patted her dog on the head. She’d sat down on the end of the bench next to Alex with the dog between them. Alex wondered how Toast would like Master Damon’s cat Curt. Curt wasn’t the friendliest cat Alex had ever met, although he generally stayed out of your way unless you wanted to open the press, because it was his favorite place to sit. That and the work table by the window, for the few hours a day when that part of the shop got any direct sun. Unfortunately, the few hours the cat liked to lie on the table always seemed to coincide with the hours someone – usually Alex – wanted to work there.
“Where are you from?” Alex asked Hazel. He could already tell her name was going to confuse him, because he kept thinking of Master Damon’s daughter Hazel. Although he could call this one Hazel Vine, which was what she said was her full name, and in his head Master Damon’s daughter would just have to be Hazel Clary.
“Redhill. You’ve probably never heard of it.” Alex shook his head. But then, he’d never heard of a lot of places, mostly because he’d never been to any of them. Lowe was better with kingdom geography than he was. “It’s about four or five days walking south and west. Mostly west. But I stopped a few times longer than I planned, and I had the dog. But we did get a ride in a cart the last day – the driver – he was bringing his wife’s cheese to the big market – he brought us all the way inside the city. He was very nice. People have generally been very nice to me.”
“It’s a nice city.” Alex drank some of his beer. “What are you doing here? Lowe said you were looking for a prince.”
“My teacher, Marcus, told me I needed to find one of the princes. He said the prince was missing and he’d be king someday, and I had to find him.” She sighed. “I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know what he looks like. I don’t know what any of the royal family looks like. Where is a prince going to hide?”
“Anywhere,” Lowe said. “Are you sure he’s still in the city?”
“No,” she admitted. “I only think so because Marcus said he was, and Marcus is usually right about these kinds of things.”
“And you have nothing to go on?” Alex said. “What does he expect you to do? Ask every man you meet if he’s a prince?”
“He has a chicken-shaped birthmark on his, uh, on his behind.” Alex wasn’t sure but he thought she might have blushed. But how strange she should say that.
“That’s interesting,” he commented. “Lowe has a birthmark shaped like a chicken on his ass.”
Lowe kicked him hard under the table. Alex blinked and bit back an “Ow, that HURT.” He was too surprised to say a word or even do anything other than blink and stare, and reach under the table to rub his leg.
“These sausages really aren’t very good,” Lowe said blandly, as if nothing had happened. Alex sat up but was still staring at him. Lowe chewed and swallowed. Alex turned and stared at Hazel, who was looking from one to the other uncomprehendingly, but also a little curiously.
“That hurt,” Alex finally said to Lowe, and then “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Tell you what?” The look Lowe gave him was as innocent as a baby’s. Alex resisted the urge to glare. He’d always kind of suspected that there was something Lowe wasn’t telling him, but in all the time they’d known each other he’d never thought that whatever Lowe’s secrets might be, they were anywhere near this major.
A runaway prince. Hiding in plain sight, in his house, in his bed. Working as a copyist and scripter of formal documents. When Alex met him, Lowe was working long hours bent over a desk, writing out certificates and diplomas and announcements in fancy, formal script. A king’s son.
“Prince Derek?” Hazel said to Lowe. “Derek Lysander. You didn’t say anything yesterday when I told you I was looking for the prince. Although,” she went on, more talking to herself than to either Alex or Lowe, “if you were trying to hide, you wouldn’t have said anything, would you?” Lowe just looked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Now Alex wanted to kick him under the table. So he did.
“Hey!” Lowe said. “What was that for?”
“Prince Derek,” Alex said. “I’ve been sleeping with a prince for a year. How did I never figure that out?”
“Have you ever met any of the royal family?” Hazel asked him curiously. “I mean, how would you know?”
“I guess I wouldn’t. I’ve seen the king from a distance, but I think everyone probably has. From very far away, though. I don’t think anyone would recognize him if he were dressed as a merchant, or a baker. Or a copyist.”
Lowe looked entirely unrepentant. If anything, he looked a little peeved at having been caught. Alex wasn’t sure what to think now. He was upset that Lowe had never told him, but he could understand why. Or at least he thought he could. And it did explain some things – Lowe’s tendency to expect Alex to drop everything when he wanted Alex’s attention, and his moments of spoiled brat, and the way he couldn’t remotely take care of himself for any length of time.
“What are you going to do now that we know?” Alex asked. Lowe shrugged.
“Nothing,” he said, forking up the last piece of sausage and popping it in his mouth. Alex and Hazel had to wait for him to finish chewing and swallow before he’d go on. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Go back to the palace,” Hazel said. “What else?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the prince. You have to.”
“Again, I ask ‘Why?’”
“It’s my destiny.” She said it very seriously, but Lowe laughed. Alex was tempted to kick him again.
“It’s not mine. I’m the fifth son. The best I can hope for is someone telling me what to do for the next ten years instead of twenty. They’ll marry me off to some girl, send me to some distant estate, if I’m lucky I might get to stay here as part of the king’s council, or sent to a neighboring kingdom as an ambassador. In any case I’ll be living someone else’s life, fulfilling someone else’s idea of what a king’s son does. I don’t want to be a court puppet. I want to have my own life.”
“But... you’re a prince. Your father is going to die eventually, and then your half brothers and half sister, and then your older brother. You’ll be next for the throne. A month or two after the current king dies, you’ll be next.” She sounded so sincere.
“You don’t know that,” Lowe said. “Besides, a year and a half ago my father was trying to circumvent the legal succession in order to place the twins next for the throne, bypassing the first five of us altogether.”
“But he hasn’t done it yet.”
“No. He hasn’t. At least, not that we know down here. A lot of things happen in the royal chambers that never reach the ears of the people. I went missing and no one knows.”
“We do, now,” Alex pointed out.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have this conversation here. I’d rather not have it at all.”
Lowe pushed back his end of the bench, stood up, and walked out of the pub. Hazel and Alex watched him go.
“I didn’t expect that to happen,” Hazel said.
“I didn’t either.”
words: 1460
total words: 19,362
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-17 07:16 pm (UTC)