They collected their things at the inn and left with Jerade in his carriage. They were taken north, to the top of a large hill which overlooked the entire city, and upon which an extravagant palace had been constructed. It wasn't a single building, but rather, a kind of compound, surrounded by high walls. The grounds beyond the gate were extremely luxurious, decorated with gardens, fountains, and marble statues of Addish heroes, and the buildings themselves were gorgeous, with sinuous, curving architecture and unusual rooflines.

Servants met them as they stepped out of the carriage. Jerade explained to them that Arai was there to teach him swordplay, in preparation for this tournament, and that the three of them -- Arai, Lillandra, and Shell -- would each require a room.

"You're giving me my own room?" Shell asked, amazed.

"Why not? Say, have you ever been to the palace? Why don't I give you the tour? Ah, after breakfast, of course."

They went on to have a delicious breakfast in Jerade's suite -- it had been months since Arai had eaten this well -- and afterward, true to his word, the young lord gave them a tour of the grounds. Arai's first impression of Jerade had been very poor -- the man had, after all, goaded him into a fight -- but he was witty and charming, and he didn't put on airs; he was kind to Shell and he spoke to Arai as though he were an old friend. Perhaps, Arai thought, there was a little more to him than met the eye.

Lillandra didn't agree. "I don't like him," she told Arai quietly, when Jerade was out of earshot.

"Why not?"

"He reminds me of Prince Ryal."

Arai frowned. This didn't bode well; Lillandra, after all, had murdered Prince Ryal, the only son and heir of King Reemus. "In what way?"

"Just his manner. He thinks he's better than everyone else, because of the family he was born into." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And...there's something false about him."

"He's interested in you."

"I'm aware of that," she said dryly.

"Well, you don't have to like him. You only have to put up with him, and only for a few weeks."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"We need the money. I was considering selling some of our zemi, but this is a much better deal -- fifty Addish crowns, and all I have to do for it is teach this fop a few sword tricks."

"If you say so," she said.

He considered her. "We still have to have that talk, about your trying to run away."

She looked at him sullenly, saying nothing.

"I find it curious," he ventured, "that you didn't try to use the Eye of Domination on me. You could have hypnotized me, just like you tried to do to Captain Burt. You could've walked away from me the moment we left Nharlek's castle."

"Your sword would have protected you from the spell."

"Maybe," he admitted. "Is that the only reason, though?"

"What are you implying?"

"I'm just asking questions."

"Well, cut it out. I'm not in the mood."

He shrugged, leaving her to sulk, and they continued with the tour.

* * *

"What's this tournament?" Arai asked Jerade the next morning, as they made their way to the training yard.

"The Test of the Immortals, it's called. It's a sword-fighting tournament, as I'm sure you've already gathered. There's usually around a hundred entrants. Contestants wear padded clothing and face masks, and fight with dulled blades. The first to score three touches on his opponent is the victor."

"What's the purpose of it?"

"The purpose?" He laughed. "Well, the people love it. It attracts huge crowds every year. For the contestants..." He shrugged. "A chance to test their mettle against the best swordsmen in Addis. A substantial cash prize for the winner. And of course, the glory. That's what I'm most interested in."

"Glory," Arai mused.

"I want to be the best," Jerade continued. "I want to prove to the people of Addisport that I'm more than just the spoiled son of Lord Eliot. I want to show them I can do anything if I put my mind to it. I want to show them that I'll make a good leader, when I take my father's place."

"A laudable goal," Arai supposed. "Surely there's a better way to do that, though, than to win the first prize in a sword-fighting tournament."

"I don't think you understand how important the Test of the Immortals is to the people of Addisport. It's a very old tradition, and the winners are highly esteemed. Many of them go on to great things -- Yaqui's won the tournament three times in a row; that's how he became my bodyguard."

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Three times in a row?" Arai threw a glance at Yaqui, who was walking some distance behind them. Arai had already sensed that the man was dangerous, and not to be trifled with; now he knew why.

"His last victory was three years ago," he said. "He hasn't fought in the tournament since then...to the immense relief of the other contestants." He chuckled.

They arrived at Jerade's makeshift training yard, which was situated within one of the palace's courtyards. This was a flat, grassy area, encircled with rocks and sand; hanging on a nearby wall were racks of swords, protective face masks, and heavily-padded gambesons. Jerade took off his vest and equipped himself with a mask and gambeson. Though he thought the protective clothing ridiculous -- Arai's father would have laughed at the sight of it -- Arai was compelled to put it on as well. He then examined the swords. There was a good selection here, but as Jerade had noted, the blades had been dulled. He chose one that was similar in size and shape to Silus, and proceeded to the yard, where Jerade awaited him. Yaqui, meanwhile, settled himself down on a nearby veranda and watched.

"As I told you before," Arai said, "I can't teach you the Three Waves in a month. It takes years of practice. However, I can give you the basics, and teach you a few tricks that I believe might come in handy."

"The Three Waves?"

"The name of my style of swordsmanship. There are three levels: the Rising Tide, which is a defensive stance, designed for countering; the Crashing Waves, which offers fast and relentless pressure; and the Roaring Seas, which is an extremely heavy offense. There are hundreds of different techniques and variations within each level."

"I've never heard of this school. Is it Gallean? Citian?"

"Neither. Let's get started, shall we?"

And he went on to spend most of the day dueling with Jerade, under the hot sun. He started at the beginning, teaching him the Rising Tide stance and showing him how to counter a variety of different attacks. He was already a decent swordsman, and he had little trouble learning the various techniques, but the ability to call upon those techniques in a real fight, to make them second nature, was something that could only be achieved with practice. And unfortunately, Jerade was not a patient man -- he was more interested in learning new techniques than in mastering them.

Lillandra showed up late in the day and watched them spar for a few minutes. Jerade fought harder when he saw that she was watching, and when they were finished, he immediately pulled off his face mask and went to speak with her: "Impressed?" he asked.

"Not particularly."

He laughed. "I'll ask again in a month. How has your day been? And where's your little elf friend?"

"Sneaking around somewhere," she said, shrugging.

"Well, if you find her, let her know that we'll be eating dinner in a few minutes. Help me out of this will you, Yaqui? I need to take a bath."

Jerade and his bodyguard retired to his suite, leaving Arai alone with Lillandra. "You're all sweaty," she commented.

"It's a hot day."

"It's always hot here," she muttered. "It's too hot."

"I miss Velon, too," Arai said, a smile tugging at his lips. "What have you been doing all day?"

"Nothing much," she said. "Shell and I toured the gardens again, but then she ran off. I've been sitting in my room, mostly, thinking."

"About what?"

"Lots of things. How did it go with Jerade?"

"As well as could be expected. I don't know how much I'll be able to teach him in a month, but I guess it doesn't matter -- he's promised to pay us whether he wins this tournament or not."

"Why don't you enter the tournament?"

"Me?"

"You're a good swordsman. And there's a prize for winning, isn't there?"

"Fighting in a tournament isn't the same as fighting for real. Dulled swords, protective gear, judges deciding whether a blow was landed here or there..." He shook his head. "Not interested. We'll make enough money with Jerade, anyway. In a month we'll be on the Cockatrice, and leaving all of this behind."

She nodded absently. "I'll go find Shell," she said.

"Is she still mad at you?"

"A little. But she's getting over it. You know how kids are."

Lillandra left to look for Shell, while Arai went to his own room. One of the servants suggested that he have a bath, and he agreed that it might be a good idea -- he had become accustomed to bathing in rivers and streams; he hadn't a warm bath since he had arrived in Addis -- so he stripped out of his clothes and spent a half-hour soaking in a big brass tub. When he had finished, he went to Jerade's suite, where he found Lillandra and Shell already sitting down and dining with the young lord. Jerade was seated close to Lillandra, and paying her extra attention -- joking, laughing, smiling, and offering her various foods and drinks. Lillandra tolerated it, and even smiled back at him once or twice, but was not exactly reciprocative.

Seeing Jerade trying to flirt with Lillandra bothered him. The Night Queen was his prisoner; he wasn't about to let her start courting. But it made him uncomfortable, too, for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. Maybe it was because he knew Lillandra, and her personality, and knew that she would only find Jerade's flirting annoying.

But he said nothing about it. He sat down and helped himself to the braised chicken, garlic, and vegetables that Jerade's servants had prepared, and washed it all down with a white wine.

"I've been asking Lillandra about herself," Jerade said to Arai. "But she's been somewhat less than forthcoming. Where are the two of you from, anyway?"

"Velon."

Jerade frowned. "Is that a city in Grand Skir?"

"It's a country in the far west," he said. He explained to Jerade that they were travelers, from beyond the Scarred Lands, and that they were on their way home, and that they had picked up Shell in Kingsaile. He didn't mention how they had arrived in Addis, nor did he say anything about Lillandra's true identity -- that they claimed to come from beyond the Scarred Lands was unbelievable enough; the fact that they been transported to Addis by magic, and that Lillandra was the century-old dictator of Velon, obviously strained credulity.

"Travelers, eh?" Jerade said when he had finished. "And from the other side of the Tarnak?"

"That's right."

"I suppose it's not impossible," he said doubtfully. "There have been a handful of successful trade missions over the last hundred years, from what I understand. My grandfather financed a sea voyage a few years before I was born, but none of the ships from that expedition returned -- they were probably lost in the Sea of Ghosts. It's not just the desert that's full of monsters; the seas north and south of the Tarnak are infested with them as well. Krakens, sea serpents, giant crocodilians. And the storms are said to be terrible." His frown deepened. "How did you make it through the desert?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, perhaps you'll tell me one day. More wine, Lillandra?"

"I suppose."

He refilled her glass. "You never did explain to me the nature of your relationship," Jerade said, speaking to Lillandra but with an eye on Arai.

"We're...friends," Arai said, though even that was not strictly true.

"Friends? Is that all?" He leaned back in his seat, smiling broadly at the both of them. "How wonderful."