by P. S. Power
The boy he was inside was simply not the scholar that he once was. He craved different things. Greatness and women, for instance. Areas that baffled poor old Farad, more than a bit.
As a knock came upon the chamber door, he closed the slim tome. Its leather cover was dry with age. Not much. It had been written in the last decades, at a guess. Meaning that the terrible handwriting was probably that of Depak Sona himself, as he’d claimed. Then, the man was a Magician, not a scribe. The important part was the information, which was incredibly clear in the scant use of words.
Half of the things were in his memory already. The symbol and sound of fire, along with the sense of rushing inward that needed to be held over the place that would burn in his thoughts. The same information about air, movement, earth, stillness and many other powerful concepts.
The instructions on the first pages told him how to meditate on each factor for best effect, and how to put together different spells. Creating them as he went. Placing them not only in action but where they were to occur and how long the effects were to last. It was, clearly, a guideline for thoughts to follow, instead of exacting instructions for the world to move to.
Standing, leaving the book on the table, he went to the door of the chamber. It wasn’t that late as of yet. Still before the evening meal. A thing that he was skipping that day, still lacking hunger. He would need to begin to eat again soon, not being rich enough in body to allow himself to waste away. It was good to go without at times, when ill or when contemplating new tasks.
At the door, when it was pulled open, he found a lovely lady standing on the other side. She wasn’t too tall, being half a head higher than his own was. Her eyes were a light blue color and she had hair that was golden. The woman tended toward the thin side, her figure girlish, even after having given birth to a child.
Himself, as the case turned out.
As strange as that was to think of.
Giving the first familial bow, since it was the only one he knew for that so far, Anders noticed the woman freeze in place. Then smile. It was a thing that lit up her face. Happily. She was still young. So much so that it was clear that she couldn’t have been older than fifteen when he’d come into being. The years in between had been kind to her as well, leaving her seeming more like his older sister than Mother.
The bow was returned, then followed by a small hug. Her arms wrapped him up as if he might be ready to break.
“Anders! How is my son faring? I was worried when I heard what others are having you do… Fighting guardsmen and tending to strange and powerful wizards?” There was a bit of fear under the playful banter. A tone that he’d not heard from her much in the past.
“Come in? I was just doing some light reading. Depak Sona lent me a book, so that I can learn some of his language. Well, magic as well. He’s truly a kind man. You and your friends at court should send him some messages and make his acquaintance. Just… He’s still mourning the loss of his third wife. It might pay to go gently that way.” Not that his Mother was going to throw herself at the man.
Except that nothing inside of him knew that for a fact. She was with Prince Alpert but not his wife. A concubine or lover. Thoughts that Anders didn’t even understand the meaning of. What that kind of thing meant in the land of Istlan Farad had no way of understanding himself. It had to be rude to ask, as well.
Rather than scolding him from seeming strange, which he had to in the moment, the woman moved in and sat, gently. She was in a fine gown of blue cloth. On her head was a strange cone shaped hat with a soft veil that covered the top portion of her hair. The rest flowed down the back. She sat gracefully, taking the only chair. Then looked at but didn’t touch, the book on the table.
“You’re learning magic? Why?” Again, there was fear in her words. This time aimed directly at the work in front of her.
Anders didn’t even bother to lie. He had many good reasons to learn all that he could.
“Greatness, power, to have a skill that might help me and others in the future. Mainly to make Depak Sona feel comfortable. He’s far from his home, being here. As I said, he’s a good man. Kind. Funny in his words. I don’t mean his accent. There are often jests on his lips.”
A light-colored hand, looking delicate and unlined, tapped the wooden table with her first finger, several times. Showing she was thinking. Turning, she looked up at him.
“Truly? That is different than what the talk at court is. I’ve seen the man of course. Not to speak to. He seemed different. Formal and perhaps stern. That could be simply that he was presenting matters to the King at the time. I’ll see if it would be proper to send letters to him.” She smiled at her son then. “Now, are the beatings from the guards too much for you?”
That part seemed to be real to her. As if it were the only thing such people might do with one such as him.
“Not at all, so far. That will probably change in a week or two. Poor Prince Erold is beaten about daily, after all. For now, I’m sitting and watching, having recently been of poor health. Captain Ford has also put me in making a bow in the shop, then arrows when that is done, so I might have a skill other than fighting if war comes. I haven’t been told of that directly. It seems… Hinted at?” He meant that war might be coming.
There was a slow nod from his Mother. Lyse. Her blue eyes locked with his own. At least he presumed that was their color. He hadn’t looked into his own reflection at all to know what he looked like. The people he had found himself among had vanity. It simply wasn’t expected of young boys, apparently.
His Mother spoke, in a low tone.
“There are whispers of aggressions from the Modroc. The King seeks a marriage alliance with them, which may buy us time, or even peace, if it goes through. I’ve heard that the Princess they have offered is ugly and brutish in visage. An insult, meant to prevent the course of peace. Have you heard anything on that?”
It was a strange thing to be asked by the woman. Normally she just hinted that he should be a good boy and stay out of the way. That was what Anders recalled from her. That and many hugs, without enough actual supervision for him to turn out well, in the end. The woman lived her own life, though it was clear she cared for him.
“Some. The picture sent sounds poorly executed. The King and Queen have kept it from Prince Erold, to stave off his reaction to seeing her face. For his part, he’s ready to do his duty there, even if she’s less than perfect looking. There’s no choice in it, which he knows. I’m not certain that he’s been told the why of it. At least that wasn’t mentioned to me. I’m certain that would only steel his resolve to a greater degree, if it were known.”
The words, for some reason, got the woman to take a long, slow breath. She regarded him, a bit of fear inside of her.
“Being so near death has made you strange, hasn’t it, Anders? There is some talk already. That you’ve begun to work and serve instead of play and hide all day. It’s too sudden. Some fear that the magic used on you has harmed your mind.”
The woman looked tense. Then, it was clear she was being insulting on purpose. Goading him. That was a thing that Anders understood. One he didn’t expect from her, normally. The trick would be in how he responded. An evil being would, most likely, deny anything was going on, then claim that all was fine inside of him. Attempting to work his way into the castle through the young boy.
The correct thing to do would be to talk about it. That way she’d be put to ease. Somewhat, at the very least. The truth was he was acting very strange for him. With the people around him, that almost had to mean dark workings were at hand.
“I’ve noticed that as well. I sound different. Part of that is just being so close to death. It aged me, in a way. I went to sleep in a delirium only to wake the next morning knowing that I’ve been a fool. Wasting the time I’ve been given to learn and grow here, before I’m cast out. That will be in only a few years. Worse, there have been others here willing to help me prepare and I’ve ignored them for too long.” He shook
his head, since those words weren’t the heart of the matter as far as his Mother would be concerned. “I feel different. Old inside. Responsible for things. I think it is an effect of that gem which was pressed to my head by Master Franken. It also told me how to save myself. I simply knew what to do, finding a place deep inside my mind to sit and demand that the swelling of my brain calm. I think that is the problem. Or perhaps the gift. If that hadn’t happened I would be dead now.”
He let his face show the troubles that he’d been feeling. The loss of his old life. Both of them. The fear of the new and different. It played across his young cheeks in the lamp light. It was, he thought, enough. At least there was no fear in his Mother’s eyes now. She simply reached out to where he stood and touched his arm.
“That could be worse, then? Boys do need to learn skills, eventually. You feel comfortable, with this strange magic user? I could speak to the King about it, if another should be put there to serve him? That isn’t your place here, being a room attendant.” Her face went slightly hard.
At first, he figured she was saying that kind of thing was beneath him. That or too high for him to reach after. After a moment she took a deep breath and let her eyes close.
“I’ve always tried to keep you from that side of the court. There is danger in it. More for you than for myself. A woman at court will be flirted with. Asked to warm the bed of men and occasionally women. Sought out to be a spy. A man might be in the same place, if his station is high enough. For you that will be different. You… Heard what Prince Alpert said? The other day when he came here to see to your health?”
“Yes. That I was his son. Then later, when Depak Sona came, Aisla announced it again, insisting that I see to my rest, for my health. It was enough that Prince Robarts took me aside later, fearing that I’d seek a duel to the death with his brother over the words. Which would be foolish, clearly. Not that the elder Prince and heir mentioned that portion. I’ve been watching Prince Erold practice each day for such things. If his brother had similar training, then I wouldn’t last moments in such a situation. Possibly even if Prince Alpert just stood there and refused to fight me for some reason.”
His Mother gasped, which wasn’t over the implied danger to her lover, most likely. Her eyes went wide and tears tried to form.
“Aisla said that? You… That is a most grave insult!” She looked hard then, angry and truly upset.
Anders nodded, having been told that already.
“It is. For us. She is a woman of a different land and custom. To her people denying such as who my Father is would be a crime, I think. A thing that she feels poorly over on a level that harms her soul. To her, she is supposed to be my second Mother, if what I was told is correct. I take no insult at it. You shouldn’t either. None was meant and finding problems where they don’t exist is wasted time.”
The words were the right thing to say and naturally the wrong ones. He sounded far too old and calm, when he should have lacked understanding and been ready to fight to the death. As had been hinted at by Prince Robarts.
A thing not lost on his Mother.
“You sound so different. You even bowed to me when I entered…”
That got him to fake a laugh for her benefit.
“Yes! I have been being given instruction to do so, from now on, or receive a promised beating from Master Belford for my trouble. That and to attend lessons with him daily. I don’t think I can truly take such a thing easily at the moment, so I’ve been working hard to be good!” That was true enough. A thing the man himself might well assure, if he was asked.
Instead of comforting him, his lovely and kind Mother patted his arm.
“That is good, then. Master Belford is a complicated man. One trusted with the teaching of certain things to the Prince. That he’s taken an interest in you is difficult to explain at the moment. You should listen to him and do as he says. For now. These others, too. Watch what they teach you and hold it in your thoughts. There are strange things happening in Istlan now. War coming on several possible fronts is only half of it.” She stood then. “I need to be off to the high meal. Have you eaten already?”
Anders shook his head.
“I won’t be doing that for a time yet. Tomorrow, I think? I’m just now truly breaking the fever. I’ve been having much water and will rest soon. Master Franken recommended that to me.”
There was a nod then, and interestingly enough, a familiar bow, which he did back to his Mother. She’d never done anything like that with him at all, before. Excepting the one she’d given him on entry, which had been initiated by him.
“It is the Domes Day festival in several days. You’ll spend the early portion of it with me?”
He nodded, Anders looking forward to the celebration, even if Farad had no clue as to what it would entail, other than from the memories of the boy.
“I look forward to it. I should also be around in the evenings, if you need me for anything? I can run messages then or we can talk? We haven’t done a lot of that for a while. Now I might even have things that would be worth hearing.” He smiled, since it was true that Anders had to be pretty boring to her.
Those words got a fake laugh and a hand going over her mouth.
“Oh, you! How silly. I look forward to seeing you, my son.” Then she turned and left, not backing out of the room or anything awkward like that. Showing that she trusted he hadn’t become a total monster, even if he was clearly behaving strangely.
Once the door closed, he went back to the book he was looking at.
Walking the halls of memory, encoding things deeply enough that they would last through the ages, took time and effort. If he’d had a full day and enough time, the single tome in front of him would have been his in a day. It wasn’t large after all. As it was, having only a few hours, sleep was needed before he finished the task.
Going to bed, after putting the lamp out with a twist of the brass wick dial, left him feeling empty. Incomplete. He had a task to do and wasn’t getting it done. That part of his being was all Farad and not Anders at all. The boy wanted to rest. Which was the correct thing to do. The morning would come early, after all.
A thing which came even earlier than it seemed like it should, since he was up before first light. A nagging sense in his head telling him to go and see Princess Aisla. The sky was just turning light for the day, which wasn’t sunrise at all. He took time to wash first, doing it quickly, so his body wouldn’t smell too much. As soon as a brush was run over his head a few times and he was in clean, if not sharp looking, clothing, he walked quickly down the dim hallways.
There were guards out, so he waved at them. It was so early that they gave him strange looks. No one stopped to speak to him or ask of his duties of the moment. Not until he got to the hallway he needed.
Then one of the guards gave him a funny look.
“Off for a late-night visit? A bit young for that, aren’t you, Anders?” There was a bit of scorn implied in the voice. The man was older, without being old. One of the men who’d been in the bowyer shop the day before.
So he nodded.
“If I were doing that kind of thing instead of picking up messages for delivery it might be. Princess Aisla assured me that I needed to be here before true light for that task today. Her great grandfather rises early as well. It might be a family thing?” One that he was going to have the pleasure of sharing in, it seemed.
The man, who was sturdy of build, being a fighter, even if part of his day had been spent making a bow, smiled then.
“I see. Well, we all have our duties. Not that the likes of you could get out of it if one of the high folk made improper demands on you. Princess Aisla isn’t that kind. A good sort. On your way then. See you in the shop later?”
Anders nodded, keeping his face serious and voice low. People would still be resting, after all.
“If I’m not tossed out for being lazy or too slow to perform the task. After I have a first bow, I’m to make arrows. A hundred of them. The
n I think I might be learning to use them?”
That got a chuckle in return, with no speech following it.
After a moment he moved down the hallway of stone, the daylight only just beginning to be useful as it came through the high, thin slits in the stone that were the windows there. He tapped most gently on the heavy oaken door, which had the thing being opened rapidly enough. Almost as if the woman had been waiting on him. He started to bow, only to be pulled in, by the arm.
Once the door was shut, the Princess, who was already dressed for the day, gave him a choppy half bow. It wasn’t courtly at all.
“You came. I wasn’t certain that you’d be awake at this time.” Her words were concerned in tone. The room was dark, except a single lamp on the far side.
“Oh, I was well asleep when a strong desire to visit you came upon me. I took time to ready for the day, is that all right? As it is I think the guard outside assumes that I’m here for some kind of incorrect purpose. That would be even worse if I showed up in my night shirt, don’t you think?”
The woman, who had been rather serious seeming, snorted in laugher then, covering her mouth. She spoke more normally, since the walls were probably thick enough.
“That sounds likely, given the hour. I either need to keep you for a short time, showing that it isn’t the case or for long enough to assure you don’t seem inadequate to the task. I have some messages. One for Depak Sona. Another for Prince Alpert, my husband. That should be passed in private, away from here, if possible. I’m being watched with fair closeness currently, with the arrival of an ambassador from my homeland. You might be as well, being his great-great-grandson, so take some care in this?”
The papers were handed over, with a curtsy. He bowed back, to receive the things. Then, as they stood, the woman hugged him. It wasn’t a close thing.
“I was told that my words the other day were a grave insult here. About who your Father is? I would wish for that not to be an issue between us. I erred, not truly understanding the weight of it.”
There was an odd reluctance in her then, as if saying the words were hurting her. A complex set of things that he didn't truly have the depth of cultural understanding to see. The signs were there, without the context.