Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  “Us?”

  “Myself and the Modroc. It will get them out of their rooms and the guard can attend as well, can they not?”

  That was probably a horrible plan. Mostly because they’d been being fed out of the high kitchen and the low kitchen wouldn’t be prepared for them and their guard. Adding a few people might work. Not twenty without warning.

  If he set it up correctly, their high meals could be brought to them there, which would work well enough.

  “Let me see what I can arrange for that? I’ll ask if the others want to attend with us, first.”

  To get that done he was going to have to run. He also needed to change his clothing first. A thing he did as he jogged to find the right servants. It was hard to make happen, but he was cleaner and his clothing a nice solid black color by the time he was through the door of the castle.

  All he had to do then was set thing up without it becoming an insult or disaster.

  That would be simple, he didn’t doubt at all.

  Chapter eighteen

  Everyone simply did as he asked, which meant that there was enough food in the low hall, when the ambassadors, their people and Anders Brolly walked in. Instead of taking the food to their respective rooms, it was simply taken to the large hall, where they were set up near the front, at several tables. The Ambassadors, Chistos and Depak, were forced to dine at the top table, with several of the nobles. That bumped several people to the next four tables, meaning that his Mother was allowed to come and settle in next to him.

  Appropriate or not she hugged him, in front of everyone. The boy wanted to squirm away. The man knew that she was probably feeling stress and concern over how her only son was acting. Putting himself in front of the castle to guard it, then traipsing around outside in the dark.

  “How are you? I heard that you saw the attack yesterday? Were you with Depak Sona?”

  He nodded, since it was literally true. The man had been there with him the entire time.

  “Also Captain Ford and Master Tolan. I ended up taking notes for him after that. You were there as I made a fool of myself in front of the King?” It had sort of felt that way, though his Mother just leaned into him a bit with her shoulder.

  “You did well enough. Those who laughed were scolded for it by the King himself, after you were out of earshot. Something about not mocking the men who actually defended the kingdom? That does sound like a bit more than merely standing by and watching, doesn’t it?”

  Master Belford was sitting next to Eltha and Duma Sett, so leaned over a little to be seen.

  “That is what I heard. Jennings mentioned that it was Anders himself who went forward to guard the Wizard and Depak Sona. Then he got food to the guardsmen, including those outside the walls here, when the other servants refused to risk it.” He smiled as if it were funny, then sobered as he shook his head. “That included taking up their spears on the outer watch, to defend us all while they ate. A bit late. There were some complaints about that. You might want to hurry and see to that sooner next time.”

  There was a dry tone to the words, rather than a true rebuke. Still, there was some truth to it all. He decided to take it that way, just nodding as he cut a small bite from his bread. At their table, only Master Belford was doing the same thing he was that way.

  Eltha looked at him, then the thin black-haired man and sat there for a moment, blankly regarding the other man.

  “I do not understand. In my homeland, people would fear one who boldly walked into the night when attack was possible. You… make a jest about it?” She seemed concerned, possibly for the mental wellbeing of Master Belford, from the way she was acting.

  The man finished his bite and then smiled.

  “Exactly. Everyone here needs to know that this is still just Anders Brolly. The lazy boy no more, perhaps. A child in body, who has recently faced his own mortality and come back from it stronger for the experience, instead of filled with fear. There are some twenty souls in the castle who use magic for us every day. It is just a bit sudden with Anders, so I’m using humor to show that he isn’t a threat. Not that he is. Though I did recently stop hitting him with a stick. Mainly because he actually bothered to try to learn for once.”

  After a moment the woman nodded.

  “I understand, I think. Good then. I won’t have to make you think you have warts growing on your nose for a week. That will save me some effort.”

  Nodding, as if no threat had been implied, the Master kept eating.

  “Will you all be attending the Domes Day celebration? That’s in two days.” That changed the conversation well enough.

  He simply ate and then, feeling greedy, had a second portion of meat and bread. Master Belford glared at him for it, with Duma Sett simply nodding at his direction.

  “Of course. You’ve been in heavy training. That takes more food, even for illusions. I’ve been noticing your efforts in the mornings with us as well. It is perhaps more than would be shown normally? Using magic to tidy for us… Half of my fellows are not certain that it is not a threat, you understand? Showing how easily you can do wonders when most would struggle to perform even one small task that way at your age.”

  She gave him a sly look, then let him eat.

  Lyse wrinkled her brow, her light hair perfectly put up and her makeup delicate that night, not in high court fashion.

  “I’d not heard that. Didn’t the servants take over the other day? They were ordered to…” She looked concerned.

  Duma Sett made a soft laughing noise. It managed to sound derisive.

  “They failed then. We have had only Anders Brolly, who also cares for the Barquea Ambassador. As it stands, we would have our rooms filled with dishware now, if the man himself had not been collecting it and leaving it down the hall, so that they may take it away. Even the Princess has been setting herself to the task, to make certain things don’t build up.” There was a hand wave, as if that wasn’t important at all.

  Master Belford stood up then and bowed to the table.

  “Forgive me, I need to attend to something, I fear, or I would not leave such lovely ladies easy at all. We could, perhaps, meet soon for some event or outing?”

  He looked at Duma Sett directly, flirting with her. There was a glance for Eltha as well, and when they both agreed, if quietly, he backed away five steps then turned to leave the room. Rapidly enough that others stopped to look.

  They spoke then for a while, everyone getting along well enough. Eltha spoke on her hobby of horse riding and Duma Sett her love of fine needlework. Lyse listened and seemed fascinated by each topic touched upon. When they left the hall, they were walking together, at least to the turn off where the dignitaries were taken to their rooms. Escorted by four armed men and Anders.

  After he was finished there, he still had a lesson left for the day, so scurried to the outdoor summer kitchen, next to the building there used for the same thing and started the requested fire. That was simple enough, since he simply muttered at the wood to make it happen.

  “Ro-neg-fen.” His finger had to stay pointed at the smoldering wood for several breaths, then the whole thing lit up easily enough.

  It wasn’t just the words, of course. The thought that went into them, the connection between the feeling of each one used carefully and only for specific purposes made the real difference between the special language he’d been taught and normal words. It was helpful to him. After all, he used the word fire almost every day. A thing that took place not at all as he wanted one to actually start.

  A vision came to him then, of Captain Ford standing next to him at bow practice, screaming fire, his trousers catching every time he tried to let the string release. It was funny and wasn’t how the world worked, thankfully. That kind of thing would be hard to live with, if not totally impossible.

  Depak’s people, their magicians at least, had found one way to work around such things. It was clearly not the only thing that could work. The night before he’d felt the magic of a w
arding sign used against him. That was from an untrained man using it only as a superstition. Still, it had an effect. If it would work to stop him from doing harm to the fellow if he really wished to, remained to be seen. The power in it might simply make it so he didn’t want to do that kind of harm. In his case, at least, that was enough. What the effect would be on a dark entity or an angry Wizard, well, that he didn’t know.

  That it had worked at all showed that there were things other than words that could work that way. Possibly to his advantage, if he trained himself to do the correct things at the right time. Making a hand gesture that would push a person back, even if he couldn’t find breath or time to speak would be nice to have on tap. The same was true for many simple tasks.

  Starting a fire, for instance.

  Pulling a piece of wood from the stack and propping it on the edge of the fire pit, he tried it for a while. Thinking the word Ro, while stabbing directly ahead of him at the piece of wood. His littlest finger and thumb pushed out, since it was a thing he’d never done before in his life.

  On the tenth try, a small fire started, right in the center of the small log. It was exactly the size of the distance between the tips of his extended fingers. Then, because he was a bit bored, he worked out a hand gesture he associated with Lod. His palm out, fingers together, he pushed toward the wood. It rocked the first time, moving into the fire on the third try.

  Just as Senna Grace walked up, her face skeptical and arms loaded.

  “That’s eight logs in the fire, not seven.” She moved to the wooden work table, setting down the gear she had with her.

  “We’ve some time afore the coals will be ready. I decided to teach you to make a simple bread, a soft coal cake and roast fowl. That last mainly because we have an old bird not prepared yet that will go off if we wait even until morning. Come, I’ll go over the ingredients and lists of things that can be used to substitute when you don’t have them on the road. Which is how cooking on the move works. Most days you’ll be missing half of what you need. Thanks to all that things are not as complex as all that when it comes to what we can eat or not.”

  The instructions weren’t hard at all, if a bit more refined in certain ways than Farad was used to. Then the food was nicer there at the castle, so it made sense. The trick was in the use of spices, most of which were described to him carefully. Meaning that committing the advice to memory was possible for him. The recipes as well.

  Also, how to bury the heavy pots and pans with coals, how long to leave them and how often they had to be stirred or flipped. Most of the lesson was about managing the heat properly. As it was a bit of the soft cake, which was sweet, had a dark patch on it that got him clucked at.

  “A body could eat that, since it isn’t beyond what can be stood. Would you be happy with that for your only meal? I’ve half a mind to make you eat it, to learn a lesson. No. I won’t coddle you. Eat it. Everything here. Burned bits and all.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, as if making him eat his own cooking was a huge punishment.

  He did it, considering every bite.

  “It isn’t too bad. I see what you mean about the spices and herbs. They make a big difference. The dark part… That could be better. Sorry Senna. I’ll try to be more careful in the future.”

  She picked up a spatula and waved it at him a bit, still seeming genially stern about the idea.

  “See that you do, Anders Brolly. Making food isn’t just something to wave your hands at or toss on a fire and wait till the smoke starts. It takes attention, skill and timing. Most as can do it don’t manage it well enough. When supplies run scarce or all you have is hunted meat and what you can pluck as you walk during the day, you’ll have to rely more heavily on skill. We meet here, same time tomorrow. You did well enough, so we’ll cover something a bit more delicate.”

  Spinning on her heel, she moved to the table, picked up everything she’d brought and walked off, as if he’d failed on a level that was impossible for him to understand.

  Inside, the child that lived there felt angry at the rebuke. Scolded and as if it wasn’t fair. Farad just considered things for a moment, working them out.

  Senna Grace was a good and sweet woman. Truth be told, she fairly doted on Anders and had even when he’d been a little brat that skipped out on work whenever possible. She also knew more of his story than he had, at least until recently. Most of the castle folk probably did. The community was too small and close not to pick up on things like who was the Father of which child.

  Her efforts then, were probably her own version of what Captain Ford or Master Belford had tried to do for him. The woman had been given the impression that he needed to learn to cook for the military. A job that to her was probably dangerous, as well as better than being a peasant farmer. A thing that Anders didn’t have any training in at all. So, she was doing her best to get him ready. Learning to cook not just well enough, but at a level that would hold him in good stead, if it was the career being chosen for him.

  At the same time, she’d watched him push the wood into the fire with magic, possibly also seeing him light it that way. It hadn’t scared her, since it was just him doing it. At the same time, to her there was probably no way for him to make his way in the world other than one of the lowest occupations.

  If he could learn to cook well enough, then he might have a fairly good job, working in the castle kitchens. So she was being stern, insisting that he do his very best at each turn. Trying to save him, if she could, in her own way.

  The thoughts got Anders to calm down and relax. He wanted to wander off, which would leave a fire going in the open. The boy had no experience that way, though Farad did, coming from a drier land where lighting a fire outdoors meant tending it closely. That or possibly dying and killing your neighbors and friends.

  It took him nearly ten minutes to work out how to stop a lit fire. It meant moving the air away from it for two full moments. Then cooling it, until a light frost showed on the remaining coals. It was more work than getting a bucket of water would have been, he decided.

  Interestingly, he wondered if it would be possible to put together a unique hand signal for a more complex but useful type of spell. Something like putting a fire out and cooling it in one move. That kind of thing was probably a bit advanced for him at the moment. After all, it took raw practice to make things work, according to Depak. Also, he didn’t want to use the same spells in his head as he used for speaking, in case it would muddy things. That meant coming up with his own linked gestures and thoughts, so it wouldn’t get in the way of the others he was learning if he failed.

  Climbing into bed, about half an hour later he considered the idea. It should be possible to create his own system of magic, if a simple one, that relied on hand gestures. A thing useful for fighting, where saying words was rather too slow. That would only work at close range, of course. Within ten paces.

  At the same time, it should be possible to place a whole spell into a single word or short phrase. That was probably how a lot of the systems did it, of course. The power of the one Depak used was in how well he could control the specifics of things. That didn't mean a few spells that would instantly do a single thing, in a given direction or fashion wouldn’t be useful.

  A hammer only did one thing really. You changed the direction of the hand holding it to control it. Also, the power of the swing, which was more complex, he had to admit.

  Drifting off he decided to give it more thought. After all, he didn’t really know what it would be that he’d want that kind of tool for. Fighting seemed like a plan. There had to be other things that could be useful, at the same time. Say a way to rapidly build a wall that would protect him, something more complex and complete than the simple one he’d been showed. A way to block weapons and magic in a single simple motion.

  Dreams came, and they left just as fast, as far as he could tell. The vague memories were of his old life. The cave that he’d lived in most of his life, carved into the side o
f the mountain. His round bottomed copper pot and tripod used to cook most of his meals. How once, a Wizard named Ganges the Great, an old friend of his, had stolen his mind and placed it inside of a tiny gem. Which brought him to the point where, as he woke, Farad feared what he could become.

  If kind and gentle Ganges could be turned into a man who eventually became renowned for the horrors he brought into the world, what would he, a far more common man in that way, manage? At the same time, it was hard to see that using magic was, in and of itself a bad thing. Tidying rooms and making lights so that people could see weren’t bad.

  Really, he needed to learn more about this Ganges and see if it was the one he’d known at all. It… Sounded plausible, since most people couldn’t just store a mind away in a tiny rock and then allow that soul to take form in the mind of another at a later time. Just trusting to that idea was a disservice to his old friend.

  That day, he hurried a bit, doing all the room cleaning first thing. Then, as the servants brought the first meal in, he waved to Daren.

  That got a smile, if a slightly stiff one. Probably due to the thought that he was going to be ordered about by the same child that he used to tease in the hallways by making funny faces to amuse him.

  “Daren? This is Depak Sona. Depak, this is Daren Willet. His family has served here at the castle for several generations. From now on he’ll make sure that the dishware is cleaned up after the meals. He’s trustworthy and isn’t afraid of you, just because you can do a little magic. Solid man, Daren Willet. Ask anyone.”

  Depak stood and bowed, getting a low and humble ducking in return. Still, the other boy didn’t run away or claim that Anders was being too kind to him that way. Instead when he stood up, he looked at the young boy, dressed in bright blue clothing with a simple wavy pattern through it in white and nodded. Possibly understanding that this child had suddenly come up in the world by daring to stand with magicians and strangers and was now reaching down a hand to help him climb up as well.