by Jim Hodgson
Chapter 16
A messenger met the party — Elgin, her warriors, Usta, Ergam, and Ozel — when they were still a few hours outside Dilara. The message was that Captain Sozer of the Wizard of the Deep had been found, alive, and had sensitive information to share.
Usta had been hoping for a few quiet days without any administrative emergencies so that he could enjoy being back in his city with his bride-to-be, but duty called. He sent the messenger to gather Wagast and Yonca, and after a short, hard ride, everyone met at Captain Sozer’s bedside.
The man looked terrible. Wagast had been doing what he could for his health. “He’s much improved,” Wagast said. “You should have seen him when he got here.”
“I mean you no slight, Captain, but if this is improved, I’m glad I didn’t.”
Sozer gave a weak grin and said in a raspy voice, “No slight perceived, Your Majesty. I am just glad that sanity has returned to rule Dilara.” He gave a few coughs, then his mouth stretched in a pained expression. Usta wasn’t sure whether this was from the physical pain of his injuries or what he was about to say.
“I’m afraid the news is even worse than I look,” Sozer began. “The faraway lands are completely under Yetkin rule, if you can call destroying something the same as ruling it. They have a wizard leading them to battle, and they fight anything that isn’t Yetkin.”
“Oh, no,” Yonca breathed. Her hand went to her mouth.
Usta twisted to look at Yonca. Wagast was hugging her with one arm. They both looked grave. “But we have wizards ...” Usta said.
“We do indeed,” Sozer said. “But our wizards, like all good people, do what they do while observing a code of conduct. Imagine a wizard with no such restraint.”
Usta could well imagine such a thing. The undead wizard Cezmi had murdered and destroyed indiscriminately.
As if reading Usta’s mind, Wagast said, “Cezmi was just a taste of what a wizard like that could be. He held all the dark magic, but was controlled by a man with no magical ability or training.”
“It’s the difference between a house painter and an artist,” Yonca said.
Sozer was coughing again, but ground to a stop and said, “Yes. An artist of death. There was no reason to destroy Karvit’s Harbor. None at all.”
“Except that they knew it was there,” Yonca said.
Usta straightened. An artist of death. All right. Dilara had faced threats before. In fact, it seemed that it always would. He couldn’t understand the impulse to destroy things simply because they existed, but experience taught him that some people thought that way.
Sozer was rasping again.
“Captain,” Usta said. “I am sorry to see you in such a state, but very glad indeed that you are alive. Thank you for letting me know what you’ve seen and heard.”
Sozer tried to respond, but began coughing again. Usta placed a hand on his shoulder, then gave the rest of the room a look to indicate they should follow him out.
Arier Enver arrived late to meet the group at Sozer’s bedside, and so had to rush to catch up. He apologized as he entered the meeting room.
Usta could tell from Yonca’s face that she had a lot on her mind that needed saying. She was chewing at the inside of her lip. Maybe she just needed a nudge. “Yonca,” he said. “You’re unquestionably the best informed here regarding the faraway lands. What are your thoughts?”
She gave a bitter frown. Usta thought this might be because she realized he’d read her face and didn’t like the idea of her face being readable.
“I think that we might get lucky,” she said at least. “But we should prepare to not be lucky.”
“Meaning?”
“I think the Yetkin and their dark wizard have destroyed or subjugated lands whose names we’ll never know. The reason they have never come here is they simply don’t know about us.”
“Security by obscurity,” Wagast said.
“But surely they know about Ilbez? They’ve battled one another for years,” Usta said.
Yonca nodded. “But they think Ilbez is currently starving to death.”
“Which it would be had Dilara not provided aid,” Elgin said.
“It does nothing for my national pride to be safe from attack because we are beneath notice,” Usta said. “But our first concern must be the safety of our people. Elgin and I shall work with Alabora and Nazenin to improve our defenses as best we can. How are we progressing on a wizarding academy?”
“We are accepting apprentices,” Wagast said.
“But there have not been many to accept,” Yonca finished.
“Hmm,” Usta said.
“Perhaps what is needed is a raised wizarding profile?” Elgin said.
“How so, Your Majesty?” Yonca asked.
“If I’m not mistaken, wizarding in general, as a profession, has taken something of a beating in public opinion. Or was doing so before the church was returned to its senses, yes?”
“It is true,” Wagast agreed.
“But in Dilara that opinion has very much reversed,” Usta said.
Elgin inclined her head. “Why might that be so here, but not so much over the countryside?”
Usta considered this. “Surely it’s because people saw day to day how bad circumstances were, how Wagast and Ozel acted to improve the city, how wrong the church’s leadership was.”
Elgin spread her hands and smiled.
Usta regarded this gesture with frank bewilderment.
Yonca said. “Do I understand Her Majesty correctly to mean that all we have to do is educate the general population about the positive role wizards can play in day-to-day life?”
Elgin inclined her head again.
“Very well,” Usta said. “What are some ways we can do that?”
“We could open a wizard’s shop, like the one here,” Arier suggested. “Local wizards could focus on healing, simple enchantments, plus act as recruitment officers.”
“This seems like a senior wizard’s position to me,” Wagast said. “Putting a newly trained person in a position of power like that could create temptation to become corrupt.”
“Not if the shop is also staffed by a fifty-pound spider ready to bite the wizard’s leg off,” Arier said.
Yonca gave a loud bark of a laugh at this. Then she looked ashamed, but was still grinning. “My apologies, Your Majesties,” she said.
Usta and Elgin were both amused as well. Elgin waved Yonca’s apology away.
“Right then,” Usta said. “If there are no other—”
“What about a tapestry?” Yonca said, then because she realized she’d spoken over her king, added a hasty, “Apologies again, Your Majesty.”
“A tapestry?” Usta repeated.
Yonca said, “When I was a young girl, people came from miles away to view the Dilara Tapestry. It is still displayed in the cathedral on holidays.”
She had a point, Usta thought, but the tapestry wasn’t a phenomenon that resonated with young people. Elderly people fawned and fussed over it whenever it was displayed, but they needed something that would energize the young. All that being true, he still didn’t want to insult one of his top advisors by pointing out that she was elderly. “It is one of our greatest treasures,” he began. “But do we think it’s …” His thoughts ran out of momentum.
“Only for old people?” Yonca asked. “Absolutely. It is. But that’s only because the last major tapestry Dilara has produced is also about old people. Across Dilara, the story of the tournament, the church, the wizard Cezmi, is being retold from memory. An official tapestry would not only propel but accurately shape that story.”
“Memory can be unreliable,” Wagast said.
“True enough,” Usta said. He let a sigh escape. “It’s no good having the world’s greatest advisors if one doesn’t listen to them, is it? Very well. We shall have a tapestry. And an army, and a navy, and wizards across the land. And new defenses. And, if we can find time, a royal wedding as well, eh?”
�
��And perhaps a royal baby?” Yonca asked.
Elgin turned to look at her husband-to-be, and the King of Dilara coughed.
When the last of the advisors filed out, Elgin turned to Usta with a strange expression on her face.
Usta thought he knew what it was about. “I just wasn’t thinking along those lines at that exact moment,” he said. “Babies, you know. Of course I want to have children with you, it’s just that in order to have children, certain, er …” He hesitated as a sea of emotions, excitements, and passions threatened to send his body in all directions at once.
Elgin crossed her arms, eyebrows up, in the manner of someone ready to be impressed.
“Anyway, I just wasn’t thinking along those lines,” Usta finished.
Elgin laughed and swatted at him, then kissed him on the cheek. “You will be a good husband.”
A thought struck Usta. “Do you think you could ask your father not to go campaigning into Yetkin lands?”
Elgin’s expression changed. “Perhaps.”
Usta smiled.
“I could also ask him to grow a horse’s tail. Or wings like a bird.”
Usta’s smile faded. He said, “But you heard Captain Sozer. If the Yetkin learn that Ilbez isn’t destroyed, or there’s such a place as Dilara, they could destroy us utterly before we have any chance to prepare.”
Elgin leveled a cool look at him. “To be Ilbezian is to fight the Yetkin. It has been this way for hundreds of years. Thousands. It seems to me that it would more likely raise suspicions if my father didn’t lead a raiding party.”
Usta frowned.
“It is our way,” Elgin continued. “As a general of the Gerent you should certainly know that.”
“But doesn’t it profit us, when met with new challenges, to change our ways?”
Elgin tilted her head that this was true. “Indeed it does. But you and I are young. We are still able to change. My father … I doubt it very much.”
This worried Usta, but she had a point about the Gerent. He wasn’t a man to sit idly by when he could be astride a horse. “Do you mind if I have a word with him all the same?”
“I’m sure he’d like that. He likes you. But you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s gone. Sailed for Ilbez some time ago. He could be leading a raid even as we speak.”
Well, Usta thought bitterly. That’s that sorted out then. But then he had another thought which was, I suppose I could just focus on marrying the woman of my dreams.
He looked at her. She was turned away for the moment and he watched the muscles in her neck move. They were just like the rest of her; strong, mysterious, beautiful. He leaned in, kissed her, then said, “You know what I think?”
“What’s that, my liege?”
“I’m going to have an interesting life.”
Chapter 17
The job of finishing the tunnel through to Ilbez had gone smoothly enough, as had installing a gate system. The gate was a bit of an afterthought. Ilbez and Dilara were on the best of terms now, but King Bilal Sakir’s experience taught him that relationships sometimes went sour, especially if the relationship went on a long time.
He hadn’t asked King Usta about adding the gate. This way, Usta could claim, truthfully, to never have known about it. Someone needed to be at the tunnel to guard it, or else the hill people would surely try to control or destroy it sooner or later, and if someone was going to be there at all times they’d need living space and a defensible perimeter. That meant a gate, not to mention other fortress-related accouterments like arrow slits and so forth.
Rather than explain all this to the governments of Dilara and Ilbez and wait for them to hash it out with one another, he just set the wheels in motion. After all, the extramortals would still be alive a hundred years after everyone involved in both governments was long dead.
Bilal and his men had also spent some time exploring the lavadam caverns, though they did this carefully due to the extramortals’ aversion to fire and everyone’s aversion to fighting another one of the things. The cavern system was extensive and dotted at random with piles of that peculiar metal ore. Could it really be beaten into some legendary form of sword? He supposed it was possible. Then again, was it the sword that made men legendary, or the deeds? Easier to complete certain deeds with a sword than without, though.
Someone scratched at the door.
“Yes?” Bilal called.
One of the extramortals entered. It wasn’t someone Bilal was familiar with, but then, he couldn’t possibly know every man personally.
“Your Majesty,” the man whispered.
Bilal Sakir knew this day would come. A few times in his life — such as with Aygun Incesu, a duplicitous previous advisor — he’d been close. Each time he’d managed to avoid disgrace and death. These thoughts gave him confidence as he reached for his hidden daggers. But there was also a small voice in his mind that said he’d escaped previous assassination attempts based on luck alone. Accepting a leadership role of a community of people who could only be killed by fire or severe dismemberment meant that he was likely to meet one or the other end. It was why he kept the daggers hidden on his body at all times. He did not intend to go down without a fight.
The extramortal worker who had come to his tent told him the men had discovered a risk of avalanche high above the entrance to the tunnel. They needed Sakir to have a look at the slope to decide what to do. The man who told him this lie now had both arms wrapped around Sakir’s body, attacking him.
Sakir could see a group of hill people rushing along the slope to assist. He cried out. He was easily within shouting range of the ground below, but there was no one near the mouth of the cave. A few of his men had exceptional hearing. They would surely hear him.
He focused his energy on stabbing at the man behind him with his daggers, but daggers were not the best weapon to use to fight an opponent who was mostly bone. He succeeded in wounding his attacker, driving one of the daggers into the man’s knee joint, but still the assailant held on. The hill people were close now. One of them was preparing to cast some form of magic. Sakir readied himself. He knew that the hill people could only cast a few limited types of magic. At this range, whatever spell they used would certainly damage his opponent as well as himself. It would hurt, and he might be killed, but he might also gain a tiny advantage that would see him through this.
When the spell hit him, it did nothing. There was a sensation like a spray of cool water washing over him, but nothing else. Perhaps the spellcaster had failed? No matter. Other hill people were scrambling toward him now. A few of them would certainly fall to his daggers. But first, he needed help.
He cried out again, but there was nothing. No sound. Not a whisper.
They’d somehow silenced him with the magic.
That’s when he knew he was in real trouble.
Chapter 18
There was definitely something different about the ore that returned from the tunnel. Aysu thought everyone was playing a prank when they said it came from monsters made of lava, but she knew when she saw Ozel’s face that he wasn’t joking.
That was one of the things she liked about Ozel. His face matched what he was feeling and thinking inside. His face could be relied on.
The ore reacted to the purification processes as though they were merely perfunctory. That was new. Typically, purifying metals was a painstaking process of heating, melting, adding ingredients at certain times, knowing what colors to look for, but this stuff seemed as though …
Aysu chided herself for giving an inanimate object the agency of a living thing, but it was true. This stuff seemed to want to be worked into something.
“Tell me about these lah-bottoms again?” she asked as she stoked the fire.
“Lavadams,” Ozel said. “They’re scary. Big, thick, giant monsters seemingly made out of molten metal. They crash their hands down into the ground and it shakes so badly you can’t stand up.”
“And ho
w did you defeat it?”
“Ergam read in a book that a particular substance is fatal to them, and it just so happens that a common place to find that substance is in human urine.”
“That sounded like a sentence you’ve practiced before.”
Ozel shrugged. “They’re magical beings. Who knows how they came to be?”
“Like when Ergam was a horse?”
“I suppose, although he wasn’t really a horse. He was operating an illusion in the shape of a horse.”
“Splitting hairs,” Aysu observed.
“We wizards focus on trivialities like that to cover for how much we don’t know.”
“At least you’re aware you’re doing it. Now help me pour this. Grab the other end of the handle over there.”
Ozel did as he was told. He had helped Aysu pour molten metal before. They lifted the red-hot pot of metal from the fire and poured it slowly and evenly into a sword mold, which didn’t look very much like a sword. It would produce a flat bar of metal and only start to look like a sword after Aysu and possibly some of her assistants beat it for quite a long time with hammers.
“All right,” Aysu said. “Now we wait for it to cool a while and the real work can begin.”
“I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to work that ore,” a deep voice said loudly.
Ozel didn’t have to turn around to see that it was Aysu’s father.
“No,” Aysu said. “You agreed that we weren’t going to work it. I pointed out that this is my shop.”
“Ozel, would you give me a minute with my daughter, please?”
“No, Ozel, you can stay as long as you like.”
Ozel said, “Huh?”
“I don’t want you or your shop getting mixed up with this kind of mythology,” Aysu’s father said, waving his hand at the cooling steel. “You don’t want that kind of reputation. A blacksmith should be trusted in the community. Solid.”