Lord Tramadore guided them up the curved stairs to the second floor of the castle. The wings were occupied by guest rooms, and he showed them ones on the far left side of the castle. Their positions allowed them a magnificent view of the fields beyond the city, and for that Fred was relieved. He still felt stifled in such confined luxury as the city and the castle. Ned's room was in between those of the youngsters, and when their tour of their abodes was finished food was brought up to that room. Lord Tramadore left them to attend to his peoples' worries, and the moment his echoing feet silenced Pat turned to Ned.
"Were you and the others aware of such troubles when you decided on this route?" she questioned him. Fred's ears perked up; he wondered who the others were.
Ned took a plate and rummaged through the platters of food placed on a small buffet. "Every route has its dangers, and this had fewer than others."
"Is that all you're to say about this trouble we find ourselves in? About this trouble you've caused us?" Pat gestured to Fred, who slumped over and frowned; he was a person, not a trouble.
Ned followed her arm and looked over the boy. "I see no problems other than a hungry boy to be fed. You should eat some yourself," he advised the girl.
The old man piled food on his plate, and Pat's hands balled into fists. She growled, stomped forward and whacked the plate out of Ned's hands. The silver clattered to the floor and food flew everywhere. Fred managed to catch a drumstick before it hit the ground, but he lost his appetite when Pat stepped up to Ned's side and stuck her face into his; the anger in the room was palpable. "I asked you this once before and allowed myself to be deceived, but you truly believe this is a game, don't you? That somehow everything will work itself out for the better and all you need to is wave your staff a few times? Well, why don't you wave that staff and send us to Galaron? Then we would be rid of each other and everyone would be as lacking in worries as yourself."
Ned looked down at his empty hand for a long moment, and then he raised his eyes. They bore into hers, and she scuttled back out of shock and fear. Fred shuddered at the thin line made by Ned's lips, and the brow furrowed in barely-restrained anger. He'd never seen Ned so angry, and it was terrifying to behold. The old man's voice was soft, a ghost of a whisper, but the words carried a heavy weight that made them both pay attention. "You believe it's that easy, do you? That as a castor I can wave my staff and rid myself of my problems?"
Pat pressed her hands against her chest and meekly shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant-"
"Then say what you meant and don't waste my time with foolish words," he snapped at her, and she cringed back. He saw her fear, and he swept some of his ire back inside of him. "I gave my word that I would protect you to the best of my ability, and I still swear by that. You have come to no harm, and we have only a few day's journey to the border of Sterning. After that we are guaranteed safety, and you shall arrive at Galaron to assume your responsibilities. Does that schedule suit you?"
Pat nodded; Ned sighed and glanced over to Fred. The boy both dreaded and hoped for a mention of his future, but Ned only turned away and left the room. The pair didn't move until his footsteps retreated down the hall, and then Fred heard a strange noise come from Pat; it was a sniffle. He looked to her and saw she'd turned her face from him. "You okay?" he asked her.
The girl nodded, but her voice sounded nasally, like she wanted to cry. "Yeah, I'm fine, just caught something in my eye. I think I'll go try to wash it out."
Pat hurried out of the room, leaving Fred alone. With all the food. He wouldn't let all of it go to waste, but his appetite was dulled by the confrontation. Still, as he stacked his plate high as Ned had done, he wondered at the tense atmosphere that surrounded those two. They hid secrets, and he both hesitated and was eager to know them. Fred shook himself from those thoughts; he didn't need to worry about them, they'd be gone soon. In his sort of life, leaving usually meant never seeing them again.
Fred took his meal to his room and gobbled down the food. Satiated, and with night setting, he decided to retire. There was a comfortable, four-post bed made ready for him, but his body was unaccustomed to such a soft bed, so he tossed and turned for several hours. His mind did little to help as it bounced around from one of the day's events to another. There was the early feast, and the hair-raising adventure in the city with the assassin. He wondered if there was ever a normal day to be had in the companionship of Ned and Pat.
A few hours later he finally gave up and dressed himself; perhaps a stroll along the hall outside his door would help tire him. He peeked out of his room and saw that many of the torches were extinguished, casting much of the passage into darkness. Still, he was no stranger to the night and ventured out of his room. His exit would have been quiet except for a loud squeak of the door hinges. Fred hadn't gone more than a yard before he noticed a shadow of a man climb down a winding set of stairs at the end of the hall. The man had a familiar beard, it was Ned. The boy wondered what would have the older one up at such an hour, and dodged behind a rusting suit of armor.
Ned's cane lightly tapped the stone floor, and his head was bent down at a contemplative angle. The passage was accessed from the main entrance hall through a short, narrow hall to Fred's right, and the boy saw a man step out in front of Ned. The old man jerked to a stop and both his hands flew to his staff.
"Easy there, old friend," Lord Tramadore's voice whispered.
Ned visibly relaxed. "You risk giving me a quick death with such greetings."
"Or giving me a quick death, though I don't believe you need my help. You seem intent on worrying yourself into an early grave," Lord Tramadore countered.
Ned chuckled. "My bouts of worry make up for the many instances where I do not worry enough."
"And I don't take these bouts of yours lightly." Tramadore folded his arms across his chest. "What bothers you now?"
The old man glanced around them and Fred ducked down further behind the suit. "Perhaps a hall is not the best place for a tete-a-tete."
Lord Tramadore stepped aside and swept his hands down the passage leading to the entrance hall. "My study is very private."
The pair disappeared down the hall and Fred hurried after them. Their shadows danced along the walls, and he snuck a peek down the corridor. They disappeared down the turn in the stairs, and he risked scrambling down the corridor so as not to lose sight of them. Fred was in time to see them reach the study door beneath him in the entrance hall and enter, then the door was shut. No other soul was around, so he slunk down the stairs and reached the entrance to the study. He pressed his ear against the wood, but the door was solid; he didn't hear a thing. Then his eyes caught the area between the two doors; there was a small gap and here he could listen in and see the participants of the conversation.
Hardly had the men seated themselves than Lord Tramadore got down to business. "Is it the girl that bothers you, or the boy?"
"Both, I'm afraid," Ned replied. "One believes she knows the world, and the other doesn't know enough. I haven't figured out which is worse."
"I would say the false belief, unless the boy thinks he knows the world, too," Tramadore pointed out.
Ned shook his head. "No, he knows he's ignorant, but so much so that I can't even guess where to start his learning."
"Start his learning?" the lord repeated. Ned was quiet for a moment, Lord Tramadore leaned over his desk. "I've waited long enough, old friend, now tell me. Is this boy truly him?" the lord asked him.
The old man sighed and pulled at his beard. "If it isn't then the world is a stranger place than even I guessed."
Lord Tramadore leaned back in his chair, awed by Ned's answer. "He did find that assassin through the veil of that magic cloak, but have you tested him? Given him the staff?"
Ned waved his hand. "Yes. He performed beautifully with the staff, like I thought he would, though Pat was given a fright."
"Pat? Oh yes, her name. I'd forgotten. So now you have two troubles on your hand, one of them long-awaited and another unexpected?" Lord Tramadore asked him.
"They were both expected, but to be together on such a dangerous journey, and with the boy so ignorant, has given us some challenges," Ned admitted.
"Will you make the deadline to Galaron?" the lord wondered. Fred's ears perked up; there was that name again.
Ned shook his head. "I do not know, but we have no choice. To do otherwise would risk some catastrophe, I know it."
"And Lord Canavar? Does he know of your journey?"
The old man shifted in his chair and sighed. "And stalks us even now. I wouldn't put it past him to have called forth those tree demons we found. They reeked of his handy work. The further we go the worse it will get until after we've passed through Salaron."
"Did you wish for accompaniment?" Lord Tramadore offered. "I can go myself and-"
Ned held up his hand. "I thank you, old friend, but you have troubles here you must attend to. Lord Sturgeon created this false assassination for a reason, and I believe that he aims to gain the sympathy of the people. Should you leave, he may very well use his influence to control your household."
"You believe it's that serious?" the lord asked him.
Ned gave a nod. "I do." A smile crept across his face. "But until we leave, I expect to be useful to you, and you to me, and we shall drink your fine mountain wine until it comes out ours ears."
Lord Tramadore was quiet for a moment. He leaned over the desk and his unwavering eyes fell on his old friend. "You take these matters lightly, but in the passage upstairs you appeared consumed by your worries. Why were you not asleep?"
The old man turned away, the first time Fred saw the man turn from a challenging stare. "Old memories become dreams for most people, sweet reminders of what was."
"And yours?" the lord asked.
Ned lifted his staff and ran an old, withered hand over the wood. "Mine are nightmares. You know a part of the cruelties I've seen. None of that has gone away, and the dreams loose it upon my mind."
"You're a haunted man, but I wonder if this boy doesn't shed some light on your soul," Lord Tramadore replied.
The old man glanced up at his old friend. "Perhaps, if I find him to be worthy of the staff."
"Can I see it? For old times' sake?" the lord requested.
Ned nodded and leaned forward; he pulled forth the broken stick and handed it to his old friend. Lord Tramadore ran his hand over the worn leather, and stopped at the broken parts. "And this still works? Even with this break?"
Ned shrugged. "It was always cracked. He made it that way so no one would steal it. It broke the night-well, that night, but the boy was able to use it."
"I see." Lord Tramadore returned the weapon. "And you will take this boy with you if you can?"
Ned sighed. "If Pat will allow it, I will. He has potential, even if he doesn't have his soul."
"The soul of-"
"What are you doing there!"
At the cry Fred swung around and saw a guard standing at the other end of the entrance hall. The man hurried forward and Fred stumbled toward the stairs. He didn't make it more than a foot before the doors to the study swung open and whacked him in the ass. The boy tumbled forward and landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Ned and Tramadore stepped out of the study and their eyes fell on Fred as the poor boy was roughly pulled to his feet by the guard.
Lord Tramadore smiled at the boy and waved off the guard. "Release him. He's no harm to anyone, my good man."
"Very well, sir." The guard retreated to perform his rounds, leaving the three alone.
Fred shrank from the stairs of the two imperious men. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Of course you did," Lord Tramadore interrupted him. "It's just a matter of how much you heard and understood."
The boy shook his head. "Very little, my lord, I promise."
Lord Tramadore rubbed his chin and looked to his quiet compatriot. Ned leaned heavily on his staff and his blue eyes bore into the boy; the lord couldn't tell whether Ned was amused or angry, but that was always the way with the old man. "I believe that, but perhaps we should finish this conversation in the study. With our resident eavesdropper inside we're sure to have a safe conversation."