Fencing Reputation

By William L. Hahn

This tale is the second in the series "Shards of Light" which began with "The Ring and the Flag".

Feldspar is famous throughout Cryssigens but no one knows his face. He dares the impossible, following the stealthic's credo "Risk in the service of Hope", and has no objection to the fortune his commissions bring.

High intrigue around the succession to the throne of the North Mark has gripped the city. Though Feldspar is bored by politics, he has problems of his own, attempting for the first time to live a normal life among the citizens of the capital. The master of disguise may need to be more than one person before he gets to the bottom of the mysteries running through his mind and the city itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William L. Hahn
• Release date: Aug 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466038493

William L. Hahn

Will Hahn has been in love with heroic tales since age four, when his father read him the Lays of Ancient Rome and the Tales of King Arthur. He taught Ancient-Medieval History for years, but the line between this world and others has always been thin; the far reaches of fantasy, like the distant past, still bring him face to face with people like us, who have choices to make. Will didn't always make the right choices when he was young. Any stick or vaguely-sticklike object became a sword in his hands, to the great dismay of his five sisters. Everyone survived, in part by virtue of a rule forbidding him from handling umbrellas, ski poles, curtain rods and more. Will has written about the Lands of Hope since his college days (which by now are also part of ancient history). His first tales include "Three Minutes to Midnight" a slightly-dark sword and sorcery novelette, as well as “The Ring and the Flag” and "Fencing Reputation", the first stories in the ongoing Shards of Light series. The first novel-length tale of Hope, "The Plane of Dreams" was published in September 2012. You can find much more about the Lands of Hope at the links below, including a Compendium of information about the Lands and a Facebook page on the History of the Lands. Check out other online authors at Independent Bookworm, where you can also find The Maps of Hope, a free resource for readers about the Lands.

Book preview

Fencing Reputation

Shards of Light II

William L. Hahn

Feldspar is famous throughout Cryssigens but no one knows his face. He dares the impossible, following the stealthic's credo Risk in the service of Hope, and has no objection to the fortune his commissions bring.

High intrigue around the succession to the throne of the North Mark has gripped the city. Though Feldspar is bored by politics, he has problems of his own, attempting for the first time to live a normal life among the citizens of the capital. The master of disguise may need to be more than one person before he gets to the bottom of the mysteries running through his mind and the city itself.

Fencing Reputation is the second story in the Shards of Light saga set in the Lands of Hope. It is preceded by The Ring and the Flag and followed by Perilous Embraces and Shards of Light.

Follow these links for the Table of Contents and the Map of the Lands of Hope

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No man can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true. -Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Empire of Argens 2002 ADR

Only my first day to try existing, and already it wasn't going well. My face constantly prickled, out in full view. I kept putting my hand up to adjust a slipped eyebrow, or a chin-piece peeling loose, it was automatic. Air on my face, on all parts of my face? That meant something had gone wrong with my disguise. Only now I was the disguise- the face no one in Cryssigens had ever seen was on display. Feldspar the infamous stealthic, just sauntering down The Boards in the city's poorer quarter, taking in the air and daring any soul here to recognize me.

But what else could I do? Being a ghost just hadn't worked out.

I came to the end of Altair Way, the main thoroughfare of the dazzling, urbane new city and up till now the precinct of my former life. Here the cobbled boulevard emptied into The Boards, a street literally made of wood; I turned right along the wide planks bordering the river to my left. Within twenty steps the crowd around me changed its character along with the altered sound of boots on wood, as I plunged among the lower classes.

I felt my neck muscles loosen bit by bit, and wondered why people here were not staring at me. In the center of Cryssigens, the idle wealthy and their plotting followers scrutinized everything that moved. In the center mall, how much red, how many in blue? That one there, the tall one, he's new; more soldiers than usual, I wonder what will happen. I did it all the time myself. My world, the one I had known for years was at my back. Everyone knew me there, though no one had ever seen me. I worked in the newer city, and would return to it soon, but only in one of my many disguises. That's where I'm needed; I'm a stealthic.

But folks here- that hopping fellow rolling the barrel over his own foot, the inn-keep adjusting his sign again as the children run laughing, the maiden looking for her sister. A trio of curses, one of them new to my ear. Everyone is … busy. With work! They labor! No time to plot, even less to suspect. As I reflected while strolling, I realized they did indeed look at me, all the time. But I simply met their gaze, we both nodded, and there an end. No one was looking for me.

And if a stranger merited a moment's glance, I had taken pains to be sure it was only one moment. My greatest weapon in avoiding discovery, without doubt, was my face itself. A nose not too straight, hair not very full, ears and eyes and mouth so plain and small and colorless- I had always been able to defy recollection. During my early days at the theater I found I could add any kind of prosthetic, new hair, pigments, wrinkles, and it all seemed natural because my face, by itself, was so lacking. My fellow actors called me The Mannequin, and addressed me while talking to their costume dummies in jest. Merely fifteen years later I had enough wealth to own the theater itself if I wanted: one of them passed by on the street last week and never recognized me. Of course, I was a woman at the time.

But clothing also made this man. A plain brown tunic, with dull green breeks, and covered sandals gave no clue to any House affiliation, any guild status, certainly showed no sign of wealth. And all my pockets are on the inside, easily reached behind the sash. Among these folk, who bent under loads, smelled of sweat, had a lot to do, and couldn't say what they were wearing without a glance down, I could relax. I had lost count of the turnings for my new house, but it didn't matter. I strolled along, taking note of landmarks, drinking in the view, feeling a touch of wonder at what it might mean, not to matter, not to hide.

I turned the corner and almost ran into the guardsman who had been seeking me for two weeks. Beirill, who worked for the Fire Grip, had been on duty when I slipped in and out of his master's house. Never mind I was invited. Guards like to think they do their jobs well, and this one had publicly sworn to bring me in.

With no time to react, I had to decide. Fight, out of the question- no merchant beats up a city guardsman with his bare hands. And flight, here in broad daylight, was a sure way to become news, and create dozens of suspicious people. Beirill loomed over me, shield on his back and spear leaning casually on a shoulder as he chatted with his partner. I had not wanted to test my new self so soon. This fellow had actually seen me- my form at a distance, anyway, outside the palace. There was nothing to do, except hope that nothing would be enough. I kept my pace and stride the same, held my course, met his gaze a moment, nodded at them both congenially.

Suddenly, nothing happened. The pair passed by, as if I were- nobody! The next instant, as my smile grew behind their backs, nothing continued to happen. The eatery near me had a few chairs and tables for patrons set outside. I had to sit, my legs felt a bit watery; I breathed deep and chuckled to myself, glancing only once or twice at Beirill's back. The man would have run a maze of knives to get half as close to the notorious Feldspar as he had come just now. Years of habit don't dissolve overnight- I still could not make my body understand that no cover was the best disguise.

The innkeeper came to ask me if I would eat, and I decided that I would. I asked breezily to see the bill of fare, and watched his thin face widen a bit with the effort of understanding me. Evidently most of his customers did not pose challenges.

My bills, they're always fair.

I mean, good sir, what have you to eat here?

My wife, she's made a fish stew today.

Charming. And the choice?

Well, he said with some effort to be polite, you can eat it. Or not.

Very good! I declared, And do you have ale as well, by chance?

I didn't expect him to catch my mood, but suddenly he got a grin on his face. Truthfully no, sir; we have ale because I planned it that way. I laughed just a bit harder than I would have on my own, and waved my arm that he should bring it all. As the innkeep bustled off, I returned to watching the traffic of The Boards, my new neighbors. My heart was still beating quickly, as much from having such a normal conversation as meeting Beirill. The young lady was still seeking her sister, and I decided to spot the child if I could, though I had only a vague idea she would be younger and smaller. But the gaggle of kids playing a combination of tag, chase, and catch swirled about in plain sight, mostly boys; the rest were all adults as far as I could see.

Your stew and ale, sir, said the innkeep and I extended my hand for him to clasp. I am new to your precinct, my name is Simith. He quickly wiped his hands on his apron and returned my grip, which sent a click through me. I had heard about handshakes. Noudhal, citizen Simith, and very pleased to meet you. Welcome to the Grog's Lees.

I took a gold piece from my inner pocket and snapped it down on the table; it had his undivided attention as I spoke. I won't need change for this- in fact, I said trying my best to sound light and unconcerned, I would rather set up a tab, if you follow me.

Noudhal wanted to follow me, I could tell, but was no better acquainted with modern finance than most of his fellow citizens. Still I was determined- carrying money was to be avoided at all costs, even the dozen or so coins I had with me today made me nervous. Perhaps I can explain- won't you get an ale for yourself and sit with me?

The thin man looked quickly around at his empty establishment and eagerly nodded. I don't mind if I do, sir! He ran off again, leaving the gold piece. Good. An honest man, at least.

Keilee! the young woman's yell was nothing new, she'd been calling for her sister constantly. But this one was aimed across the street in my direction, and I looked up. In one moment, I saw enough to raise Feldspar within me. Around the woman the wooden street, over her shoulder the outer railing of the Boards, and the dark fetid river beyond and below. Abandoned dock pilings and shreds of the ruined bridge led the eye toward the abandoned old lower city. And atop a piling near that far side, behind the calling woman, a small figure teetered. Risk, in the service of Hope. Before I could think, the stealthic took over.

The entire scene blurred; in a moment I had crossed the crowded street, avoided a half-dozen people and stood on the rail over the river below. I was stuck; glancing back over my shoulder I could see the young woman - quite stunning, how could I not have noticed that- turning my way along with several others. They caught sight of the child now too, and their various useless shouts were spiced with more than normal concern. I had never before in my life looked on the old city across the river, but now I felt a twinge of something ancient and wrong. Everyone knew the stories.

Can you help her, sir? the young woman was frantic, and I cursed Feldspar's reflexes even as I dredged up Simith from wherever he'd been dunked. Trying to maintain a mask of inane geniality, I put myself back in the shoes of a normal everyday merchant of uninteresting stone, who somehow found himself in the ludicrous position of rescuing hero.

Well, I hardly know, but will do my best, mistress, and with that I tried to look the fumblefoot as I leaped heavily but somewhat quickly from piling to piling along the path the child must have used. No good delaying- I needed to move fast to be of any use, and I could not do that while making myself seem inept. Stooping briefly I grabbed up a thin rod of driftwood leaning against a piling, and waved it about erratically as a balance-pole to explain my good fortune.

Clods of gulls hunching on any surface I wanted to use squawked at me and cleared away only at the last moment- I cursed their idiocy aloud and silently thanked them for adding to the chaos that could cover my actions. All the while the stealthic roiled inside me, chuckling at the minor difficulty of the acrobatics and cackling at the fraying of my scheme to conceal him from the world. Feldspar was famous, or rather infamous, and he wanted the credit no matter how it hashed my effort at disguise. In an instant I recalled the abandoned warehouse, and my attempt at the ghostly life, which came to such an abrupt halt just last week.

Life in the upper city had definitely been more comfortable. The warehouse stored my changing things, extra supplies, and some of my wealth. Plenty of room to practice acrobatics, or to measure out spaces for other feats I had in mind; praise Astor, the secret rooms were never discovered. If it hadn't been for my theatric habits, I might still be there. But scaring off the guards who came at night to drink and gamble seemed a good idea at the time.

Now I was in for it,