by P. S. Power
That was harder than he would have figured on. It worked, in that the water tried to leave the air and enter the bucket, even when he moved down the hallway a good distance. The problem was that the first three times the thing overflowed, dampening the old carpets on his floor and leaving puddles between the large gray stones.
It also ended up making his room blisteringly hot, which took work to cool. A thing that he couldn’t do at a distance. Not unless he could get Debu to release coolness into the space, which, when he tried it, did a great job of freezing the water in the bucket, without making the room any better that way at all.
By the time he was carrying the thing, his new friend, after a fashion, back to its proper room, he had learned how to phrase his spell in order to fill it most of the way up, without spilling over. That was enough for the initial testing, he figured. Really, it was about proving that he could do things at further than ten paces, against or with an object that he couldn’t see or have a specific sympathetic connection to.
Which he was certain of now. A good thing, since Depak Sona wasn’t in his rooms at all, when Anders knocked on his door. The man had hinted that things might come up, so instead of worrying or feeling neglected, he decided to get himself to the late meal in the low hall, then work on the magical names for all the people on his list.
That took until bedtime. Not because it was hard to find and memorize everything, just due to the needed practice for each one. As it was, he decided to do that again the next day, if he got the chance at all.
When he woke and readied himself for the day, sleeping well, aside from reliving the battle in his dreams all night, Anders sat at his desk, then muttered to himself.
“Wo-debu-neg ot neg-fen.” In his mind he drew a line with his finger on the side of the bucket. His friend, who he knew well now. From there to there, from the bottom to a spot about two inches from the top.
That had worked the day before to prevent it from flooding the whole room, so should work now. In case it didn’t, he hopped up and jogged over to see Depak Sona. His clothing made deep black for the day. Striking and plain at the same time.
When he got there, just past sunrise, he almost expected to find Depak gone for the day. Instead, when he knocked on the door, the man came in, already dressed in his normal splendid finery. From the noise inside there was someone else beyond the door there.
“Ah, Anders! I’d noticed the bucket filling itself. Perfectly. It would perhaps…” The man didn't seem shifty or untruthful. Just suddenly shy.
From inside the room there was a voice. A female one.
“Is that Master Brolly?” After a bit of a clatter, a different face pushed in alongside Depak’s.
That of Duma Clarisse Sett. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, so hadn’t strictly been out visiting that early. She was in a robe that spoke of not being dressed for the day, as well. Depak’s blushing nearly gave it away but Anders actually worked it out on his own first. It seemed a bit off, being that they were on the opposite side of a war. Then again, they were both magic users in a place where that kind of thing could be mistrusted. That might be enough to bring them together. On the other hand, they might both be trying to work information out of the other using adult relations to gain access and closeness.
“Duma Sett! How nice to see you. I was just about to see to cleaning the rooms. I heard that Daren has been doing a fine job of it… It isn’t right to make him do it all by himself, if we can help it. Are you well?”
The woman moved in to hug him, holding him for long enough that it was going to be hard to explain that they were merely friends if she didn't let go soon. Not that anyone other than Depak was watching. That and the hall guard.
Anders was pulled in quickly, after that, the door shut firmly. To prevent his escape, from the feeling of the move. The air in the room was cool enough, with a tingle of magic in the air. Waving at it, Anders smiled.
“The best I managed last night was freezing the water I’d gotten at a distance. I could probably do a lot to the bucket that way. Change the color, use it as a collection spot for other things than water. Probably set it on fire. Only with that specific bucket, of course.”
Depak glanced quickly at Clarisse and bowed toward Anders, just a bit.
“He’s worked out a way to affect people and objects at a distance, without having a sympathetic charm of any sort. By replacing that with an intense affinity. You spoke of getting to know the bucket, which seems to have worked...”
Duma Sett went wide eyed at the news of what he’d been up to.
“Truly? That is most amazing. How remote can you be and still influence a person or an object?”
He didn’t really know.
“At least a few hundred miles. Possibly at even greater distances, as long as what I tried to do wasn’t too complex or requiring of too much personal energy.” Things were harder to do at a distance or had been so far.
The woman looked at him, as if he might be lying, then looked at him closely, a subtle head shake and tightened lips coming to her face.
“That is a sign of great magical skill and power, Master Brolly. Be most careful who you allow to know that you can do such a thing. Some will fear that you might strike them down, without the ability to defend against you. They fear that from myself and my humble illusions lack that power totally.”
As advice went, it was probably very good.
Rather than chat about the merits or lack of that kind of thing, Anders got to work, tidying up the room. It took a lot less time now than it had before. Mainly due to the ease of moving from one spell to another for him, as the language of magic was becoming more natural to him.
He bowed himself out of the space, not wishing to intrude on a private moment more than he needed to, then went to the other rooms along the way. The ones that Princess Sweyn had been in were now filled only with Eltha Tennet, who opened the door when he knocked on it. Her face seemed a bit surprised.
She was dressed for the day, had makeup on that looked proper for at least the low court in fashion and a dress that seemed to be proper for that as well. After a moment, she nodded, then didn’t grab at Anders at all, curtsying instead.
“Anders! I’d heard you were back. Lady Martya suggested it would take several weeks for us to get in to see you now, being that you’re a war hero now. Yet here you are, at my own door…” There was a grin then. “Which means you like me best, no?”
Her face looked contrived and slightly fake in some aspect that was hard to put a finger on, while being clear the whole time. A slight set to the lips or perhaps tension around the eyes did it. The rest of it seemed fine. Happy to see him for real, even while acting a part of the same response. A thing that made him wonder if she thought she was faking all of it.
Which reminded him that Duma Sett had ordered her to seduce him on their first meeting. That or suggest they become friends, if she couldn’t manage that first part.
The idea of the woman, who was in the early part of her second decade at most and lovely in her own way, going after a young boy of his own bodily age was ridiculous. That the order had come from the Duma in the first place, almost automatically, gave him a lot of information about what might be going on with Depak Sona and the lady, as well.
It was probably rude to tell anyone that you didn’t like them best, if they cared enough to ask after the idea. At least that would have been the rule that Farad had lived by his entire existence. Truly, it was a thing that had rarely come up for him, at the hermitage. The other historians and students were all close to each other, without being needed for reassurance in that way. Anders didn’t know how to answer that at all. To the boy, the woman was attractive and available. Even ordered to get with him for adult things.
That made her interesting in the moment, if not someone that he’d worried over while he’d been gone all that much.
“I wouldn’t call me a war hero. Really… I don’t know if there can be a hero in that kind of situation. Laudi
ng people for being good at killing seems wrong to me. That I managed a lot of that… Well.” It did and on a level so deep that he felt the weight of his actions again, as if they were fresh and new. Rather than break down or leave, he took a deep breath and forced a grin. “In the moment, I am but a humble room boy. Here to make certain poor Daren doesn’t have to work too hard, all by himself. I was the one that got him into all this, thinking that if he did it, the rest of the servants would step forward and do their part. Especially once you were seen as being kind and gentle, like you all are.”
The woman let him in, moving to the side and closing the door behind her. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Young sounding and not at all commanding like it normally was.
“He’s done well. It’s a bit less interesting to see him work, not using magic for it all like you do. Are you replacing him again?”
Anders shook his head.
“Nothing like that. I’m just going to do the morning portion, so he won’t have to work too hard.” Stopping his conversation, he worked for a few minutes, making short enough work of the chamber pot, placing water in the wash bucket and drinking water, since that was pure enough to drink without boiling. Then he collected the dust and oils on the surfaces of the room, having them end up outside, well away from where anyone would be standing when the soft tan cloud ended falling there. The light breeze took most of it away for them.
Before he could leave, Eltha touched his arm, her face a bit annoyed seeming.
“You haven’t spent any time with me at all, since returning. Surely you have some moment to speak with me?” His hand was taken and the back of it set against her bosom.
It was thrilling and uncomfortable at the same time. Smiling, he cleared his throat, too much like an old man, then removed his hand.
“You forget that I was there in the room when Duma Sett ordered you to seduce me. That or be friends with me. Why not go for the second one? It’s a bit too obvious that you wouldn’t be interested in a boy that way. You can put forward that you find me interesting enough for a child, I would think. People might believe that.”
That got her to grunt and take his hand, putting it back on her bosom. She held it there firmly, her gaze slightly narrowed and fierce.
“I have, on very good assurance that no boy of your age can resist my female charms. Or that of any halfway attractive woman, come to that. Now, I’m using them on you… Feel the control sinking in… Feel your will becoming my own…” Her eyes were serious. Her lips fought a smile.
There was no tickling hint of magic to force him to her will. Then, it was kind of clear that the whole thing was more or less working on the Anders portion of him, even if meant as a jest. Farad was just highly embarrassed. It was enough to win them free.
“You see, that would work so much better if it didn’t seem like you were forcing yourself to say it. Not that it isn’t a good jest. Friends then?”
She giggled, then nodded.
“Fine, if you’re going to be a beast and reject me so coldly. I have told Duma Sett that such wouldn’t work on you that easily. I told her that we should befriend you under the guise of learning illusion. If you can do what you have at your age with the Magician’s arts, you may well be the sort to learn many. That or she and I can take up archery. That sounds a bit strenuous, so we might want to avoid that.”
Given what he’d been set to learn that way, she was probably correct.
“My Mother is holding a tea, in celebration of my success in not dying. I can, possibly, get you an invitation to that? You mentioned finding things out from Lady Martya… She’s attending, I think. Really the original idea for a party of some sort was her idea, now that I think of it.”
The words got him hugged, going against what they were just talking about. Then, he’d suggested her trying to be his friend. Not what that state meant to him. To her that might mean throwing herself at him physically in a constant fashion, while doing nothing about it.
Some old texts had mentioned that kind of thing being more accepted in different cultures. At least those of the past. If it was true of Modroc now, he didn’t know. Certainly, Istlan didn’t have customs like that. Women held non-family members who were men that closely for one reason only.
This one let him go after pressing the front of her body against him for several moments.
“That would be wonderful. Lyse mentioned something like that last night at the late meal. We dined at the king’s table, well down at the far end. A thing meant to show that we are valued, while also pressing home that we were not needed there for anything important at the same time. The conversation was all about the war with Yanse. From the sound, greater troop movements are beginning. We should be safe here, barring assassins. What do you think on the matter?”
Anders shook his head a little bit.
“I don’t know enough to have an informed opinion. The troops I faced were actual soldiers, not just brigands in colorful uniforms, bought to provide a distraction. At least, if that was the case, they were given real uniforms and seemed skilled in combat. Other than that, I can’t add much of use. I’ve heard nothing that indicates why anyone would be going to war at all. No claims of reclaiming ancestral lands or that the farms along the border belonged to them or anything at all. Just attacks, coming out of nowhere.”
Starting with a few magical attacks there at the castle. Using blood magic. That in and of itself wasn’t a sign of evil in the works. The old tombs in his memory were clear on that. On the extreme of that kind of magic was the idea of the sacrifice. The death, often in extreme pain, of one who was used to bring power to a spell working. Often used to attract beings of spirit to possess the living. The dead as well.
Those animated in such a fashion could fight a hundred men and win, on the battlefield. They were without pain and what damage they took would be instantly repaired by the magic of the creature that inhabited the body. Thankfully they weren’t easily attracted to a cause or bought for a simple task.
The payment they took was in blood, not gold.
Being targeted by an illusion that was worked in blood was significant, Anders had to think. A thing not to forget about, even if there was a war upon them. It might have been related, of course. Except that Master Tolan had found the source as being from the east and far south. That didn't really describe Yanse.
It did describe Modroc, of course.
Which had sent two women to them, both versed in the magics of illusion. Farad could see the potential for connection, given that. So far neither woman had seemed to be working in blood at all and wouldn’t need to, as far as he could tell. Their system was unknown to him, however. It was also clear that the ladies were hiding parts of what they could do or attempting too.
They’d claimed to be unable to aid Princess Sweyn with her gown and makeup on the day of her presentation to King Matheus. Then a mere day later had contacted him in the fletcher’s workshop with an illusion that had floated in the air. Getting a few hairs from the Princess wouldn’t have been hard for them to do at all at the time, so it was done for another reason. Possibly to leave them seeming weaker than they really were.
Duma Sett had cautioned him not to let many know what he was working on that way, since they might decide it made him too powerful. At least that was the message behind her words to his way of thinking.
Eltha took a deep breath, pressing her chest in his direction again. A bit more subtlety being used this time. Not enough for the move to be ignored totally.
“That seems the common thought on the issue. Well, get me in to that tea? I’d love to be there, if it’s allowed. Also, make more time in the mornings for me. I’ll make it worth your while.” She touched his arm then, reaching down to do it.
Like most Modroc women, she was on the taller side. A thing that turned the whole game she was playing into a farce. Rather than take the bait, Anders nodded.
“I’d love to learn more about your type of magic. Even if I lack the needed skill
s or ability. In the mornings, say? Around this time, if that works with your schedule. I won’t have a lot of free time I fear, since I need to run and eat, then get to work making arrows and bows, each day.”
There was a very strange look then. A strained thing that seemed baffled, rather than hurt over the implied rejection. Anders backed out of the room, bowing politely as he did it. In the hallway he noticed Daren standing off to the side. The man looked blank faced. Calm and collected as well.
“Am I dismissed then, Master Brolly?” He didn't seem eager for that to be happening, which was a good sign.
The man, who was at least four years older than Anders, was in a nice version of the servant’s livery, a black and gold costume that came with gloves and nice indoor shoes. The quality of these spoke of them being provided for him by Depak Sona. Only the upstairs staff had anything even near that nice for their daily wear.
“Not at all. I’m just taking up the morning duties again, which will leave you more time to see to the afternoons. That and fix anything I mess up, of course. Have you been keeping in touch with Master Belford?”
Those words got a look away and a sly nod.
“I have, once a week. We talk a bit and he lessons me in things like bowing and the like. Useful, given the job here. Thanks for getting me in. For the first week I kept thinking that all the magic people would turn me into a toad or somewhat. Instead they just wanted their rooms cleaned and food in, when they don’t feel like going to the halls for it. You’re sure that I’m still working this, now that you’re back?”
Anders nodded. Not that it was his task to set things like that up. The trick there was that only one of them was a real servant. The other just playing at it.
“That’s right. I think it’s about time to see to the morning meal. I need to be off to get something myself, before getting to the rest of my work. You know…” He paused and smiled a bit. “I would have figured being a Magician, even a poor one, would be less labor intensive than it really is.”
Walking off, Anders thought for a moment, then went over to the low hall to get some food. After that he needed to be off to the fletcher’s shop. Working on going over the memories of the new names he had for certain people, while he ate.