Footwizard

by Terry Mancour

  The vast Great Hall was far more representative of the Wilderlands culture than the old palace had been. There was far more Wilderlord involved in the décor, and far less of the Sea Lord influence the old gaudy palace had boasted. Anguin and Rardine were greeting their guests as they were introduced, each of them offering the visiting lords and ladies a few private words at the throne before they were dismissed to dance and feast. With their words, Rardine was charming and Anguin was gracious.

  When it was our turn, Alya and I lined up like cattle and awaited our long list of titles to be recited by the court herald’s booming voice before proceeding to the thrones of our sovereigns.

  “My dear friend Minalan!” Anguin declared, with genuine warmth. “I am so happy you were able to attend. Baroness Pentandra tells me you have important work this summer,” he added.

  “The Spellmonger’s work is ever important, my lord duke,” Rardine assured the court. “Even when no one else understands it. Count Minalan has proven that a dozen times over,” she praised. “If he sees need to skip this summer’s festivities, then I hope Countess Alya can fill the gap.”

  “Alas, my Duchess, I have decided to attend my lord on his journey,” Alya said, with a bow. “Baroness Pentandra will stand for the Magefolk at court, this year.”

  Rardine frowned. “That is troublesome news – I was looking forward to getting to know you better. Perhaps you can visit us at Falas, this autumn, instead,” she proposed.

  “I would like nothing better, Your Grace,” Alya assured her. “But my lord husband’s work is very important. I must need support him if I may.”

  “As any good wife should,” agreed Anguin. “Best of luck on your travels, my friends, and hurry back to us safely,” he urged. “And Minalan, be sure to have a word with me before you leave, tonight.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” I bowed. “And congratulations on your return to Vorone. The city has missed you, as has all the Wilderlands.”

  It was a good party. I actually liked most of the people there, and for once I didn’t worry about hidden enemies popping up out of nowhere. There were dozens of warmagi in the room, not to mention companies of knights and mercenaries. Terleman had undertaken to construct the security for the palace, with Carmella’s help. There were even defenses against dragons, I was told.

  As the Count of the Magelaw, my second duty after greeting my prince was joining Count Marcadine and the Lord Steward Sir Kersal for a glass of wine and a quick discussion. Marcadine thanked me in person for sending the Gilmorans and warmagi to assist him – apparently several unlanded Gilmoran knights had joined his court and had been given lands for their assistance, in addition to the bribes I’d loaded on them.

  The Lord Steward was likewise thankful that Vorone had once again been spared any serious attack during the war.

  “Do you think the truce is likely to hold, Count Minalan?” he asked, as we headed into our second cup of wine. “Or can we enjoy a summer of peace?”

  “It is less a truce and more a battlefield defeat,” I predicted. “Korbal lies in torpor, unable to lead his forces. The Nemovorti are scattered and bickering amongst themselves. The bulk of the goblin army has been crushed; it will take time for them to train more. And our forces have never been stronger,” I pointed out.

  “And dragons?” asked Marcadine, pointedly.

  “They have precious few left, and have retained them for defensive work, now,” I answered. “At least, that is what my sources have said. We’ve defeated them too often, now, for their liking. To deploy them is to risk losing them and their great power.”

  “Then we might have peace,” considered the Lord Steward.

  “We might,” I agreed, “at least for a while. Indeed, gentlemen, I have undertaken certain negotiations that might lead to a more lasting peace. One I feel compelled to discuss with you, before I take action.” After securing our privacy with a spell, I outlined the terms of my treaty with Ashakarl, King of the Goblins and judged their reactions.

  “It seems a fair bargain, if they can be trusted,” the Lord Steward murmured.

  “If he breaks my trust, we have lost nothing but time,” I countered. “Removing an enemy from the field is as good as defeating him, in my estimation.”

  “If they agree to free their slaves and stop eating our flesh, it is a worthy accord,” Marcadine said, thoughtfully. “I approve, if His Grace does.”

  “I plan on discussing it later this evening,” I nodded. “But I wanted to hear your thoughts, first, as our realms are all affected in this.”

  “While we are covered by your spell, Minalan,” Marcadine said, changing the subject, “I feel it is proper to inform you both that many of the Gilmoran knights who came into my service depart with a far better opinion of Alshar,” he said, with a quick grin. “Many were set against us by politics, but once they enjoyed our hospitality, they may have reconsidered their allegiance to Castal.”

  “Aye, that has been the gossip in the barracks,” agreed Sir Kersal. “The Gilmorans came as agents of Castal, but more than a third return with changed minds. They felt betrayed by the Count of Nion and cheated of their bounties. Enough to shift their politics. The impetus for Alshari allegiance grows stronger.”

  “But what can we do about that, my lords?” I asked, simply. “I would support such a transfer of allegiance, of course. It would honor His Grace and add to his already impressive legacy. But Rard forbids such things under the Royal Charter. The duchies cannot fight amongst themselves.”

  “But the counties can,” countered count Marcadine. “As the Count of Nion proved. If that is the case, then either one of us could claim sovereignty by conquest,” he pointed out.

  “Or by recognition of allegiance and extension of sovereignty by rebellion, which was Castal’s own rationale for contesting Gilmora,” reminded Sir Kersal. “It would not take much to fan the flames, should a spark be kindled.”

  “I would never dare initiate such a momentous change of allegiance, gentlemen,” I gently scolded. I waited for just a moment before continuing. “Of course, if a rebellion just happened to arise, I might consider intervention. Purely to preserve lives and prevent destruction,” I added.

  The two exchanged glances and then smiled at me.

  “Then we have an understanding,” nodded Marcadine. “I, too, would welcome Gilmora back to Alshar. Let us each consider that policy.”

  “I can see I’m going to have an interesting time when I get back,” I chuckled, before I broke the spell and went to mingle. Of course, seeing the three major nobles of the region speaking together under a privacy spell attracted plenty of attention.

  “My lord Minalan, I must ask what you and Count Marcadine and the Lord Steward were discussing,” Lady Pleasure asked, as she approached me from behind. Make that Abbess Pleasure, as she was in her clerical garb. She looked splendid in her well-crafted habit, her brilliantly shiny symbol of faith hanging precariously from her impressive bosom. While the priestess appeared as demure as the clergy of Ishi ever do, she twisted and wiggled like a little girl as she questioned me.

  “Oh, matters of policy and state,” I shrugged. “What are you doing here? Planning on starting some trouble?” I asked, warningly.

  “That’s the farthest thing from my mind, right now,” she said, biting her lip engagingly. I could tell that this was the real goddess of love and beauty inhabiting her earthly avatar, and not the middle-aged former ingénue Baroness Amandice. If you encounter the gods often enough, you can tell the difference. This was Ishi, incarnate, visiting the mortal realm.

  Likely that was because she loves a good party and she had inflicted that on Vorone, as her adopted sacred town. She had a particular fetish for Anguin, for some reason.

  “So what brings such an important member of the clergy to town, Abbess?” I asked, politely.

  “I’m here to witness Rardine coming into her own sovereign power by winning the minds and hearts of the summer court. She married the Fox Duke.
That makes her a vixen, by some rights. One of my sacred animals,” she reminded me.

  “Then please behave, and don’t embarrass our good duchess,” I chided the goddess.

  “Credit me with more sense, Minalan,” she chided in return. “I am already in my power, here in Vorone. Just as Briga is in Sevendor. Pulling any miracles would be redundant.”

  “I’m not sure how you people assign such things,” I admitted. “Who is the patron of Vanador?”

  “Trygg,” Ishi said, defensively, with a pout. “You can blame Pentandra for that. But Vanador has plenty of room for more. Perhaps a technical god, or a magical one.”

  “Yes, a god of magic would be terribly useful,” I agreed. “Much more useful than, say, a cow goddess. Or mother goddess. Or sex goddess,” I added. Believe it or not, I think Ishi likes it when I tease her.

  “I’ll see if I can seduce one out of the ether,” she said, rolling her eyes and waving her bust at me. “Be careful, this summer, Minalan,” she added, suddenly frowning. “You’re going someplace that is not only devoid of magic, but where the gods will have no power. At least, none that I’m aware of. That volcano is a big blank spot in the world. Even the Otherworld. It has a certain reputation amongst the gods. That’s never a good sign. But I know that there are . . . there are things there, Minalan,” she said, her head shaking slowly. “Things unholy and alien. It’s a bad place,” she assured me.

  “And yet I must go,” I sighed. “There are answers to be had, there. Answers that might save the world.”

  “Whence?” she pouted. “Millennia from now? When your descendants have fallen in estate and languish in hovels at the edge of the world?”

  I could feel my eyebrows rise of their own accord. “You have some divine insight, Goddess? Perhaps a . . . prophecy?” I accused.

  I earned a divine snort. “Just working the worst-case scenario. I’m a love goddess, that’s well within my purview,” she argued. “My point is, why take the risk of death or madness in pursuit of a cure for some future doom, when there is glory at hand in the present secular realm?”

  “Because the long-term survival of our people on this world is well within my purview,” I countered. “Recall, that is part of what attracted you to my life.”

  Ishi frowned. “Briga completely ruined you with noble altruism,” she said, folding her arms under her bosom judgmentally. “Had I gotten to you first, things would have been quite different.”

  “As attractive as your divine charms are, Goddess, I confess my dedication lies beyond my loins.”

  “No, it lies firmly within your heart,” she pouted. “Trygg’s grace has siphoned off your promising lechery.”

  “Alas, you come after inspiration and matrimony,” I said, sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, it was a very close contest.”

  “In this case, I will have to yield to the whims of fate,” she sighed. “Fate often takes away my fun. It’s annoying.”

  “There should be more than enough interesting propositions occurring at this celebration to keep you amused, Goddess,” I soothed. “Don’t let one boring old married man keep you from enjoying yourself.”

  “You speak more truly than you think, Spellmonger,” she said, with a disturbingly amused expression. “As to the subject of fate . . .”

  Before she could finish the sentence, the Ducal Herald announced, in a tone constructed of both determination and surprise,

  “My Lords And Ladies of the Court! It is my Privilege And High Honor to Present His Majesty, Rard the First of Castalshar, King of the Realm!”

  “See?” Ishi whispered, as the assembled courtiers and nobles of repute gaped at the unexpected announcement. “Fate is a far bigger bitch than I am!”

  “Ishi, what’s going on?” I asked, confused.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, petulantly. Her lips contrived a smirk quickly enough. “King Rard has come to toast his daughter and her husband at their new summer palace. Without her mother or brother at his elbow. If you can’t read the political importance of that, Minalan, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

  “Well, this is a surprise,” I agreed, as the implications of the development occurred to me. “I suppose the Court Wizard brought him through the Ways,” I concluded.

  “A surprise to you, perhaps. I had advance warning,” she boasted.

  “And the true nature of his visit, if you could spare it?” I prompted.

  “He’s reaching out in an effort to avoid civil war,” Lady Pleasure explained, quietly, as our monarch approached the thrones. “Remember that letter you sent to Prince Tavard? He read it. He was not pleased,” she related, reveling in the gossip. “He railed at his father at the royal palace for hours. He’s threatening war.” She sounded pleased at the prospect. Ishi is weird.

  “Well, I appreciate Rard’s attempt to stop him,” I sighed. “I don’t want war with Tavard.”

  “But you wouldn’t say no, would you?” she snorted, prettily. “You despise him.”

  “But I recognize his political importance,” I countered. “I don’t require my liege lords to be likable. Competent would be good enough.”

  “Which is why you despise him,” she riposted, with brutal honesty. “It’s not his life of privilege,” she explained, her eyes narrowed. “It’s not his arrogance. It’s not his ego. It’s his incompetence that draws your ire,” she said, her voice a murmur.

  “That’s an interesting way to put it,” I agreed, as I watched Rard make his way through the crowd.

  “Grendine is a bloodthirsty bitch, but you respect her. Because she is competent. Rard is an idealistic visionary, seeing a common destiny in the uniting of the three western duchies. And he made it happen. So, you respect him. Rardine is a scheming, conniving opportunist . . . but you respect her, most of all,” Ishi accused. “For she has come from a position of weakness and – with a little assistance – become a rising political force when she should have been crushed by her family’s abandonment.”

  “Goddess, your insights are annoyingly apt,” I sighed, with candid appreciation. She was, after all, a goddess devoted to human relationships. She understood the motivations of men and women, even when they were not overtly sexual. I was a subtle enough wizard to understand the importance of what she said.

  “Of course they are,” she preened. “After being a student and a soldier? A wizard and a lord? Those experiences shaped you, Minalan. They gave you a low tolerance for incompetence. And Tavard has yet to display a sliver of ability.”

  “I fear for the realm, more than my own station,” I admitted.

  “Of course you do, you altruistic dolt,” she chided, her lips near my ear as Rard, Rardine and Anguin murmured between themselves. “You’ve assumed responsibility for far more than you were allotted by the divine, Minalan. That is highly attractive, in my professional opinion. Not terribly smart, but highly attractive!”

  “So how do I avoid a war with Tavard, oh blessed lady of discernment?” I asked, taunting her.

  “I’m not certain that you can,” she admitted. “But you might avoid blame for it if you are shrewd enough. Rard is expecting to find here a belligerent Spellmonger, ready to ride against Castal. Indeed, he’s terrified of it. Nothing could challenge the legitimacy of his dominion as surely as a war of that magnitude. Nor could he stop you, if he desired. He knows this. You know this. All that remains is to establish your opinion in the matter. Because that would require him to choose a side, and that is something he does not want to do,” she revealed.

  “That’s . . . that’s actually quite useful intelligence, Goddess,” I admitted.

  “It was meant to be. I’m not just a pretty pair of peaches. I overheard everything, as a guardsman was shagging one of the chambermaids in the linen closet of the royal palace, when Rard and Tavard came in,” she confessed. “Thankfully the gentleman was unwilling to quit, even though half the royal house might have overheard and discovered him – good lad!” she praised. I assumed t
hat there was an appropriate blessing involved. “But I heard the entire conversation as a result. Rard doesn’t want war. Tavard does. Tavard doesn’t really have the funds to wage war. But he’s demanding his father’s support, if he does.”

  “So Rard wants to see how willing I am to fight. And I’m rather unwilling to fight, having contended with two wars in rapid succession.”

  “Convince him of that,” Ishi counseled, “and you may well avoid war. Or at least blame for war. If it is any consolation, Grendine has been steadfast against the idea,” she reported. “She thinks you’d mop the field against Tavard, and she’s told him as much. But the prince has his own mind on the matter. Indeed, Grendine worries that he is slipping from her control.”

  “As am I,” I agreed. Tavard was a shit of a duke, but as long as Grendine was controlling him, he’d been tolerable. If he struggled away from her control, I realized, he could be quite dangerous. “Any insight as to whether fate sees a crown in Tavard’s future?” I asked.

  “Oh, Minalan, you know I can’t tell you that sort of thing, even if I knew!” Ishi pouted. “But he is a serious threat. You cannot take it lightly. But you cannot be aggressive in your defense, either, lest Rard favor his son in this contest over his Spellmonger as a matter of duty and pride.”

  “I’ll do my best to appease him,” I promised. “I’m going on holiday, tomorrow. The last thing I want is some unfinished business left behind. Oh, look, here comes His Majesty,” I observed, casually, as I managed one final dig. “Do try to look pretty.”

  Chapter Five

  The Concerns of the King

  Beware entanglements with the nobility, or men of great power; for while the status and wealth that might accrue to you from a grateful client is tempting, it also compromises a wizard’s judgement. When your counsel can elevate such a noble patron, it also gives you the responsibility for the outcomes of the policies upon which you provide advice. For politics is the enemy of Wisdom, though that is where it is needed the most. Far better to be an honest beggar on the road than a nobleman’s wizard who prizes his career over the dictates of Wisdom.