Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  Sitting on the side of his bed, Anders decided to make up a new word for silk. It was possibly a waste of time but he had that for the moment. It took him most of an hour to master the single phrase but by the time he was normally off to straighten and tidy rooms, he was knocking on doors, wearing a blue and green outfit that was similar to a tunic and trousers but looser and flowing. It hid a good part of the bandage on his left wrist and hand.

  Eltha was hit first that morning. Mainly because, kind or not, it was clear that certain people that had come there would be more suspect than the others as for an assassination attempt. The one that had happened the night before, anyway. Illusion had played a large part in each attack so far. True, the link was to a place far away, which could mean anything. Still, it occurred to Anders that those who practiced illusion might well know others who were good at the particular craft.

  Modroc was also to the south and east of Istlan, which might be important, given the source of the attacks. None of which meant that Eltha or Duma Sett were directly involved in anything. Personally, Anders liked both women, which would make it hard if they turned out to be part of the attacks.

  Having the skills didn’t mean they were guilty. Neither did being from the south or foreign. Farad Ibn Istel wasn’t responsible for it and he fit both of those conditions, now. At least it could seem like that from the outside. Anders didn't know how to make illusions of monsters but flame was totally possible for him.

  As far as he knew, the opposite was all that he’d seen from Eltha or Duma Sett. They could make things look like anything else as far as he knew. Making the image of soldiers, fighters or monsters was well within what they could manage, he was certain. Princess Sweyn had been made to look like a rather ugly and slightly deformed woman, when she was actually decently attractive.

  What they didn’t do, that he knew of, was throw energies around, like fire. So far neither of them had worked in blood magic, either. Even when threatened Duma Sett had only made a seeming of light around her hand to bluff her would be attackers back from her. A thing that would have been more real, if it had been inside of her abilities to do so.

  The trick there was that anyone that could use magic from one school could, in theory, learn any other technique as well. Meaning that the people involved could be any of up to one third of the population in and around the castle.

  Learning to use illusion would take years, for most people. Anders might learn it faster than that, if he had some basic lessons. Which wouldn’t help him look innocent, of course. He knew that it hadn’t been him. That wasn’t the truth for anyone else he knew there.

  Master Depak was so good with magic that it was possible he knew many things that hadn’t been shown as of yet. There was almost as much reason to suspect him as there was for the rest of them. The first attack, the one with real men involved, had come in with the Modroc, making it seem like that was a better place to start.

  When Eltha came to the door, her face was normal seeming. Not stressed or upset. Her eyes looked at his tunic first, then trousers, doubling back to his bandaged left hand.

  “Did you cut yourself?” Her voice was conversational about the idea. There was a soft gesture toward where the wrappings were set.

  He waved that away, with his right hand.

  “Burned. A bit of an incident last night. Let me get things cleaned up here while we chat? I probably can’t do my other work today, so figured I’d try to do a bit more with the rooms. If that isn’t a problem, I mean. People probably don’t want me standing in their spaces all day long, practicing spells that don’t work.”

  She smiled at him, her right hand touching his left shoulder. Right over a burned area. He didn’t wince or flinch.

  “If you wish to be very good, you must practice, very much. We can go over basic illusions, if you have the time. Should I go to the other rooms and let them know that you might be late today?”

  That would allow him time to search her rooms. Which was a good idea and also a risk that Farad knew not to take. If he cleaned everything well enough, it would be nearly as effective and he could do it right in front of her, without any suspicions being raised.

  “Not needed. I’ll try to hurry and can come back if you don’t mind, if it takes me too long. I’d love to learn a bit about how you make illusions happen. It’s relevant to what happened last night, if only in part.”

  She nodded.

  “When you were burned? No illusion can do that. Well, it’s possible but you would have to immerse a person in such things for a long time first. Then fool their mind into thinking they were truly burned. It wouldn’t happen in moments. Hours or days, more like.”

  If what she was saying was true, that information was helpful to know.

  “The flame was real. The monster that threw it wasn’t at all. It was similar to the second attack. The one at the castle gate. A small animal was used, controlled, to move on the King. I managed to get in the way and flail around well enough to stop it, after a while. I froze the mouse the spell was on. Master Tolan thinks that burning it would work as well or using raw energy. Clearly, if you can kill it and run away, that should work as well.”

  The last words got her to take a breath, looking away.

  “That makes the most sense. Kill it so it cannot follow, then get outside the influence zone of the sympathetic responder. Trapping it might work as well. How long did the attack last?”

  That one was hard for him to judge, he realized. It had felt like it was a very long time. In truth, it had probably taken place inside fifteen breaths. No more than a long moment. Possibly much less than that.

  “It was over quickly, I think. There was no sense of the spell weakening at all the entire time, which is, I think, your point here. So, if you must flee, do it, get far away and keep yourself well away for at least a day.” At least he didn’t think it would be possible for him to keep a spell going that long.

  Eltha agreed at least.

  “Because the life force or tie used would have to be replenished in that time and it would require the blood mage to be at the site of the attack to do that. At least I’ve never heard of any mage doing that since the great wars. That might not even be true, even if it was what I was taught as a child. Back when Ganges the Great laid waste to my homeland and created the vast wasteland desert to the far south of Modroc, such things might have happened.” She stopped then, not asking if he knew what that was at all.

  Farad Ibn Istel had a sneaking suspicion that at the center of that wasteland would be found his old home. Being that mentioning such an idea was a poor plan, he simply started cleaning, making certain to use spells to get into everything. He even convinced Eltha to empty her bags, which still had some things in them, in order to go over all of that. It included a picture folio, several pieces of inexpensive jewelry with magical symbols on them and some small tools.

  They seemed to be for carving, rather than leather work. Anders didn’t ask about it, merely going over everything, taking large clouds of dust out of the heavy travel bags. When that happened, the woman covered her mouth, laughing.

  “Well! That should have been done before, I see. You’ll return here for breakfast? Duma Sett has been eating with Depak Sona each morning of late.” She sounded slightly sly then, as if she might understand things better than he did.

  Which was certainly just the truth.

  Nodding, Anders bowed, not commenting on her words. It wasn’t his business, after all. Depak wasn’t a child and would understand what the woman was doing.

  When he got to the door, he stood up and waved to her.

  “Would you come with me, if you aren’t busy? You can explain to everyone how I’m going over everything extra carefully as a polite method of searching their things. Normally the regular servants would be set to that, naturally. Especially after something like what happened last night. I’m sure you can all go and search my room in retaliation later. You can suggest it to the King, if you like.”

/>   She made a half choking sound then but smiled in a friendly enough way.

  “I’m still surprised that we weren’t locked up in chains after our entrance here. Yes. I’ll go and do that. The others will suspect anyway. They always do when you come. Why else bother to make you seem so young and innocent, if not to throw us off our guard for such things?”

  Anders nodded, walking then, waiting when she paused to shut the heavy door.

  “Honestly? I just look like this. Should I knock?”

  That got a strange look. She pushed into his arm as they stood in front of the next door over. His left, which helpfully pressed into some painful burns. Otherwise it would have been distracting in a different manner, which was probably her intention.

  The main body of men with them shared that particular set of rooms, since the Ambassador had the one a single door down, with Duma Sett and then Depak Sona past that. It wasn’t a small walk, since each space was actually three rooms. A front room for work or entertaining, a bed chamber and a wash room with a tub. The privies were outside, of course. Hence everyone having chamber pots to empty each day. No one wanted a twenty-minute walk in the middle of the night if it could be helped.

  At the door, Eltha spoke in her own language, which sounded hard in tone. Then, her words were as well. Almost snappish and shrew like.

  “Brolly has been sent to search our rooms. There was an attack last night, using magic. Illusion and forces, with blood magic at its heart. On the good side he doesn’t seem to truly suspect any of us. On the bad, he was injured in the fighting. Don’t make trouble here. He’ll pretend he’s cleaning the room in greater depth so your fragile sense of self won’t shatter under his regard.”

  The men seemed mildly annoyed by the idea, with one of them frowning.

  “Grand, then. He’ll see all my self-pleasure devices and pictures of naked women and judge me, I suppose. It’s bad enough having this lot watch me when I take care of my needs. This is embarrassing.”

  Anders could see that as being the case.

  Speaking in the man’s own language, striving to use the modern dialect when he could, he nodded.

  “I can see that as being possible. I promise not to laugh or judge you over it. In fact, bring out the things you all worry over first. As long as it isn’t related to the things from last night, it won’t be at issue.”

  The men had a wide array of things that fit that portion of things. They also insisted that Eltha be kicked out, instead of watching for her own wicked amusement. Most of them had bottles of drink, which wasn’t shameful at all. Two had magics that did things that Anders wasn’t certain of. They were on metal and had no traces of blood on or around them in any way. The others smirked a bit, with one of the older men waving at the things.

  “Love charms to help them find their true woman. Only we have orders not to marry while we are away on this mission, so they will be for their other use. That of attempting to get women into bed with them.”

  The idea made sense enough, even to a boy. Rather than comment Anders glanced at the ten small paintings of women with no clothing on, then cleaned everything, including the travel bags. As he’d done in Eltha’s room, he did a separate sweep for blood. A bit had collected in each place but not enough to show where there would be a hidden charm under a mattress or behind a wardrobe.

  When he got into the hallway, Eltha was still standing there, to knock on the ambassador’s door with him. This time she was a bit more polite. The whole speech was nearly the same, being honest and a bit brutal about it. She also made it sound a bit like the King had secretly ordered it done.

  Which wasn’t the truth.

  That was fine for the other men. They were mainly guards and servants, if ones that weren’t doing much work on room cleaning each day. Attendants and things like that then, he had to figure. The Modroc Ambassador simply looked at him, then sighed, gesturing into his own room.

  “Enter then, Master Anders. I’ve nothing here that would offend, I think not.”

  His Istlan still wasn’t perfect. It was much improved over his first usage of it, however.

  Anders spoke in his language, since he needed the practice as well.

  “Just to clarify… No one told me to do this and you, none of your people here, are under any suspicion at all. You can say no, or complain to the King and have me beaten for suggesting it, if you’d rather? On the other side, it would be good to know that none of our visitors is hiding such a thing, so that it can be reported. Truly, if you could tell us where all of you were between high meal and after last night, that would help to prove you aren’t involved, so we may focus only on those who might be guilty in truth. This hallway is my responsibility, so…”

  Waiting, for the man to explode or call him on his presumption, Anders took a deep, slow breath.

  For his part, Ambassador Fromet frowned at first then waved him in.

  “When such things happen, all are suspect. I will not hide from you. Come, Master Anders.”

  The man had a lot of things for a traveler. Maps, some books, more clothing than anyone else other than Princess Sweyn, and makeup, even though the man had never worn any when Anders was around. He didn’t ask about that and didn't have to, since the man smiled on seeing him looking at the containers, which had been placed on the writing table.

  “When first given this position, I was told that the people at court here all wore much makeup, to disguise themselves. Only the women do, I found once here. Thankfully your Master Belford aided me in that before a fool I made of myself.”

  The room itself was scoured again, this time a nice puff of blood coming from under the wardrobe in the bed chamber. No one else knew what it might mean, so didn’t stop him when he got down on the floor and reached his thin arm under the bottom of the thing, to find a leather bag that was worked in a similar fashion on the outside as the other magics had been. The thing was still filled with power, however.

  It tried to call to Ambassador Fromet. Anders could feel the energy seeking in that direction powerfully.

  “Stay here. Neither of you move. In fact, no… We just cleared the room next to us. Go there. I need Master Tolan. Eltha, could you get Duma Sett and Depak Sona out of bed? Bring them here, I think. We’ll need their input on this.”

  Not waiting for them to act, he moved to the door and called out to the hall guard. There were four of them that day.

  “I found a blood magic charm in the room of Ambassador Fromet. Set to attack him, only it hadn’t yet, for some reason. I need Master Tolan. Now, please.”

  The men all looked at one another, probably realizing that they didn’t take orders from the likes of Anders Brolly. Finally, one of them cleared his throat and simply yelled.

  “Master Tolan to the Ambassadorial wing! Emergency! Master Tolan to the Ambassadorial wing. Emergency!”

  After four repetitions, the same call went up again, deeper into the castle. After a few moments that call grew and spread. That kept going until after a few moments Master Tolan, dressed in a gray night shirt, his feet bare, padded into the hall at a run.

  Anders waved to him, holding his hand out with the blood token in it.

  “I was searching all the rooms on this floor and found this. Hidden under the wardrobe. It’s still fully charged. There was blood on or in it already, which I removed with a spell. Cleaning.”

  The other man looked at him his eyes filled with sleep still.

  “I understand. Hold that and allow me to…” His eyes closed, his fingers drawing a pattern in the air. One that made sense, being he was tracing tendrils of power. He pointed to the room with all the men in it, where the Ambassador had been secured.

  “This was set to attack Master Chistos Fromet. The work on it is not nearly as elegant as on the others we’ve recovered. No illusions, I do not believe. It was merely designed to steal his breath, as he slept. It had been activated. Something has gone wrong, so it did not discharge as of yet.”

  The words wer
e soft in volume, as well as very certain as to what was being said.

  Anders committed the words to memory, as Prince Alpert and a dozen guards ran into the hallway. Each of them had a weapon drawn, though not all of them held spears. Over half had swords, meaning they were not officially standing guard when collected.

  Walking quickly, after assessing the situation, the Prince marched over to them directly.

  “There was an attack?” He pointed at the leather bag, which was still tied shut, with a leather cord.

  Anders shook his head.

  “This was set to kill Ambassador Fromet, hidden under the wardrobe in his sleeping chamber. Meant to kill him in his sleep. It didn’t trigger.”

  The Prince nodded.

  “He didn’t sleep, for some reason?” The words were matter of fact, as if that were the clear reason why.

  A thing that he should have considered already himself. Setting the bag on the floor, since it was still dangerous, he moved to the correct door and knocked loudly. Then called out.

  “Ambassador? Is it possible that you didn't sleep last night?” The words sounded strange to him, as they came out. The man called back, regardless.

  “I did not. It was the Sentinel’s Vigil, which required me to be at prayers through the night. Why am I asked?”

  Everyone there seemed lost, out in the hallway. Even if they were speaking in Istlan. Anders got what the man was saying. He was a follower of one of the old gods. The one who watched. Clearly the others in his group weren’t doing the same thing, since they all seemed rested well enough.

  “Blessed Vigil, Ambassador. It seems to have saved your life.” He walked away then, since the important part was already out to everyone.

  “That would explain it then. Thank all that is good. I need to go over the other rooms here as well. Duma Sett’s is next.” The woman herself was standing out in the hall, along with Depak Sona.