Royal Falcon

by Chris Svartbeck

  No sooner said than done. Jok pursued his plan with single-minded focus over the next few days. The fact that the Greens had been afraid of him since Lesora had disappeared didn’t hinder his success; quite the contrary. Fear and sex blended into an intense energy to which he almost became addicted. Once he had regenerated enough to create a little mirror after concentrating for only a few moments, Jok turned his desires toward the Blues.

  He had only half-heartedly taught a few classes the past few days. Now, he finally starting teaching full-fledged lessons. Today, abjuration spells were on the schedule. For the first finger exercise, Jok summoned several butterflies. The Blues didn’t need long to banish the insects on the spot. Then, Jok let the four Blues compete against each other.

  “Tevi, you will fight Miramee, Sacan you will fight Sistero. Pick up your mirrors. Concentrate!”

  While the Blues raised their mirrors and tried to banish each other, he circled them and looked for their strengths and weaknesses.

  “Sacan, your defense is not smooth. You offer too many points of attack.”

  “Tevi, your attacks have to be faster.”

  “Miramee, you are forgetting your reserves!”

  He drilled and drilled until they could attack and defend without thinking. While the four Blues were busy, Jok reached for his work mirror and fleetingly searched for the weakest energy thread. As he had predicted, Miramee was the weakest link. He calibrated his mirror. Without looking, he stuck an energy finger into the weak spot and tore it open. His energy pathways enthralled the source of the weak point.

  “You! I challenge you to a practice duel. We will meet in the arena during the midday break.”

  Silent disbelief fell over the room. Jok looked up from his mirror. Miramee, Sacan and Sistero were staring at him. Tevi stood there, caught in the spell, his mirror half raised in a defensive motion. Tevi! But he had meant Miramee! Tevi was the weak point?

  “Out!”

  The other three fled the room. Jok lifted the spell. Tevi finished the motion and looked straight at him; his face pale and his mirror raised in defense. What should he do? Tevi had been his friend! He hadn’t meant to challenge him! He saw Nao’s face in his mind’s eye. There was no friendship among sorcerers. There were only winners and losers. He didn’t have a choice if he wanted to survive.

  “At midday.”

  His own voice sounded flat and lifeless in his ears. Tevi just nodded. He understood. Adepts didn’t have friends.

  Jok slowly walked out.

  A Visit to The Red Keg

  Every time Ioro saw a falcon, he had to think of his mysterious friend. He hadn’t heard from the young sorcerer for quite some time. None of the falcons had dared come to him at the palace. What a shame. Ioro would have loved to chat with Jok for a change. His service may be honorable, but it hardly challenged him intellectually. Most of the soldiers in the guard were experienced veterans and the guard routine had been tried-and-tested for years. Every day was the same. The few highlights were the audiences and receptions where, as the commander of the guard, he acted as the king’s personal bodyguard. Of course, Tolioro was there too, but Ioro didn’t find it difficult to stay out of his brother’s line of sight. He preferred to stay in the background where he could survey the whole room. The bits and pieces of information he overheard on these occasions practically demanded further research. To his amazement, Ioro often found himself with his nose in a book. If only Master Straoto could see him now! He would be amazed!

  What he found even more interesting was that King Kanata only spoke to a handful of select people behind closed doors. What a pity his father deemed guards superfluous at his private meetings.

  Tonight was his night off. Ioro yawned and stretched. Scoron and Turag, two officers from the second guard who were about his age, had invited him to go down to the lower city. Incognito, of course. After all, it was supposed to be fun. Being a guard had its advantages. He was able to escape the gilded cage in which his brother, Tolioro, was now firmly locked.

  Ioro put on a simple soldier’s tunic and stuck a few copper coins in his belt pouch. Dressed in the same manner, Scoron and Turag were already waiting at the kennels. They were going to go on foot. The little servants’ gate behind the kennels led straight into Sawateenatari’s old quarter. Standing up top at the gate, he admired the panoramic view of the city that stretched all the way out to the Tsaomoogra. That changed after only the first few steps down into the steep alleys that led into the city. The houses were as crooked as the cobblestones and the alleys curved and twisted haphazardly in every direction. Ioro took a deep breath. He smelled the pungent aroma of giri. He was right. Just past the next curve, there was a merchant with a cart selling the spicy-sweet treat.

  “One portion for me and my friends!” Ioro ordered, laughing boisterously, and tossed a few copper coins to the merchant. He immediately reached into the warm kettle and scooped out a large ladle of the sticky mass and placed it on greased paper.

  “Thank you very much, young man. Enjoy, and may the Goddess grant you happiness for your generosity!”

  “Hopefully, luck with the ladies,” Scoron joked, “so the evening is really worth it!”

  Chatting happily, the three wandered deeper into the maze of alleys. The closer they came to the harbor quarter, the darker and narrower the streets became. There were no magical orbs of light in the lower city, as they were reserved for the wealthy residential quarters and the palace. Instead, the warm, flickering glow of little oil lamps shone in the many open windows and doors. Young and, when he looked more closely, some not-so-young women, waved invitingly and displayed their charms.

  “Hey, young man, don’t you want to come in? I guarantee you an unforgettable night!”

  “Hey, sweetie, how about you and me?” A girl pressed up against Ioro and felt his bicep approvingly. “If you’re as well built below the waist as you are above, I’ll do you for free!”

  Ioro laughed, took the girl by the waist and raised her up in the air without effort. “Another time, my lovely. Today I want to gamble and hear some singing!” He twirled her in a circle and gently placed her back down.

  The girl pouted. “What a shame! You don’t know what you’re missing.” Then she remembered her business sense. “You’re looking for gambling and song? I know a lovely place, The Red Keg, not far from here. It isn’t expensive. My little brother will gladly show you the way.”

  “Right, and then we’ll end up in a harbor alley with a gang of cutthroats!” Turag growled. Scoron added, “Or you’ll send us to the most expensive tavern in the area to get a good commission!”

  The girl looked insulted. “No, no, soldier man, I would never do that!”

  “It’s alright!” Ioro interjected. “Why not try out The Red Keg? The name sounds promising and I’m thirsty!”

  The girl whistled, and a little street urchin, about six years old and dressed in rags, appeared from nowhere. “Addi! These soldier men are looking for The Red Keg!”

  The little urchin promptly held out his hand.

  “No, Addi!” the girl scolded him. “They are my friends!”

  “It was worth a try,” the boy whined. Then, he obediently trotted ahead of Ioro and his comrades.

  The Red Keg truly lived up to its name. Ioro looked to the center of the room and was pleased to see a bard sitting on a giant, red keg of beer, loudly singing popular tunes. The beer was good, though a bit warm. The tavern was filled to the brim with sailors. The putrid stench of the harbor seeped in through the windows and under the doors, only kept at bay by the spicy aroma of the spiced roast the owner of The Red Keg had just served. Then, he slapped a heavy slice of dark bread down before each guest. Ioro was confused for a moment. How was that going work? The men around him reached for their knives and starting sawing away at the roast. The juicy delicacy landed on the slices of bread, which apparently served as plates. Ioro hurried and followed their lead. The roast was gone before the bard could finish his next son
g. Like the sailors, Ioro also ate the bread, soaked in spicy roast juice, last. A long draft of beer rinsed down the last few crumbs. Ah, that felt good!

  A giant man with strangely pale hair, sitting directly across from him, began banging the heft of his knife against the table and calling, “Play us the song about the little chicken!”

  “Yes, the song about the little chicken! The little chicken, the little chicken!” the others joined in enthusiastically. The bard tuned his lute. By then, nearly all of the sailors were drumming on the tables. They appeared to know the song and really liked hearing it. Ioro watched, fascinated.

  Turag plucked his sleeve. “We should get out of here as soon as possible!”

  Ioro indignantly shook him off. “Why?” he hissed. “We still have plenty of time!”

  The bard began to sing.

  A falcon did once two eggs lay,

  Tideldee tideldai tidelday,

  One each in its two nests did stay,

  Tideldee tideldai tidelday.

  From the first a falcon did hatch,

  The second a chicken dispatched!

  Oh me, oh my, oh may!

  The chicken believed a falcon it be,

  Tidelday tideldai tideldee,

  And cries: One day a king I’ll be!

  Tidelday, tideldai, tideldee.

  Born in the right nest was I

  My brother may as well die

  Oh my, oh may, oh me!

  My falcon father is heedful,

  Tidelday tideldee tideldai,

  Only the brood of his wife is legal

  Tidelday tideldee tideldai,

  My egg lay in her nest, huzzah!

  So I’ll be the heir by law!

  Oh my, oh may, oh me!

  My falcon brother can piss the hell off,

  Tideldee tideldai tidelday.

  At his skills and talents I heartily scoff!

  Tidelday, tideldai, tideldee.

  Once I am king of this illustrious house,

  I’ll hack his eyes out, that dirty ol’ louse,

  Oh my, oh may, oh me!

  Ioro sat, frozen. The song was clearly about him and Tolioro and it was crystal clear that these people did not like his brother. The bard gleefully listed the crown prince’s weaknesses in the verses that followed. Ioro couldn’t, he mustn’t listen to any more of this! His hand on his dagger, Ioro arose. Then, something heavy hit him from behind. He fell.

  Dazed, he heard Turag laugh and explain to the sailors, “My friend Oro is completely sauced. He hasn’t been with the guard long. He can’t hold his liquor. No bother, we’ll take him home.”

  Ioro felt someone grab him from the left and right and drag him toward the door. The sailors jovially mocked little boys who wanted to play soldier but couldn’t even drink properly yet. Then he felt the cold night air. He felt like vomiting and his head was pounding. His kidnappers dragged him quite a distance, directly toward the harbor, judging by the smell. Then, they leaned him against the hull of a ship.

  Ioro tried to pull himself together. The first time he tried to stand up, he vomited. After that, he felt a bit better and was able to see again. Scoron and Turag were standing in front of him.

  “Why did you do that?”

  Scoron looked at him uneasily. Turag shifted from one leg to the other. “My Prince,” he switched to the formal title, “I had to prevent you from doing something stupid. If someone had recognized you there, it would have gotten dangerous!”

  “Why? Judging by the mood there, I would think the men would have lifted me up on their shoulders!”

  “They would have,” Scoron added, furious. “And as soon your royal name was dropped, it would have been over. You would have had to kill everyone there for high treason. If you hadn’t executed them right away, you would have been committing high treason yourself. Your brother is just waiting for an opportunity to demand your head! This way, no name was dropped, no one knows you were there, and you can pretend nothing happened.”

  Ioro thought for a moment. “Which of you hit me?” he asked.

  Turag lowered his head. “I did, My Prince. I know raising a hand against a member of the royal house will cost me my life. I will not ask for mercy. There is only one thing I request. Tell my parents I died honorably.”

  Ioro shook himself like a wet dog. That helped. He regained his ability to think. “What should cost you your life?” he asked. “We just went to drink a harmless beer among friends. Is it your fault that I hit my head against the edge of the table because I was too drunk to drink above the table instead of under it?” Grinning, he poked Turag in the ribs.

  Turag’s head flew up. One look at Ioro’s face convinced him he was serious.

  “Now, my friends, ‘soldier Oro’ would urgently like to rinse the foul taste out of his mouth with a good beer with his friends, Turag and Scoron. Come on, let’s find another tavern. And perhaps I shall find a girl!”

  Turag grinned from ear to ear. Scoron clapped his hand on Ioro’s shoulder, making him wince, and said, approvingly, “You’re alright for a prince. We’ll never forget this!” He conjured up a bottle containing a clear liquid from his tunic pocket. He poured a bit of it on the burning wound on Ioro’s head, “It’s good for everything!” he said, passing the rest around.

  After the fifth round, they all felt better. Ioro linked arms with his new friends and the three of them staggered toward the next harbor tavern, telling dirty jokes and laughing raucously.

  A silent guest arose in The Red Keg. What a pity it hadn’t worked. He’d have to write off the money for the bard as a lost investment. His client didn’t pay for failures. He had almost had the prince where he wanted him. Unfortunately, his friends had had enough wits to quickly intervene. Crown Prince Tolioro would have to wait a bit longer get at his brother. Well, there was no changing that. He would find another opportunity. Some day.

  Friend Versus Friend

  Tur supervised Tevi and Jok’s match. There were no spectators, since it was just a practice fight. Tevi fought very poorly from the onset. Jok only needed a few minutes to overcome his defenses. Collecting the energies was almost child’s play. Tur disappointedly announced the end of the fight and left the arena even before Jok did. Tevi remained behind in the arena.

  While Tur headed toward the tower room, Jok went out to the courtyard. He stood in the midday sun, watching the Greens play. Two of the little boys were rough housing. After a brief fight, the younger boy lay on the ground. The older boy reached out his hand in a sportsmanlike fashion and helped him up. Then, they strolled toward the kitchen, hand-in-hand, to see if Marada had something sweet for them.

  Something stirred in Jok. A memory bubbled up to the surface. He turned around and went back into the tower and up the stairs to the arena. Tevi was sitting in the entryway, pale and exhausted, and had chewed his lips bloody. Jok checked to see how much energy Tevi still had. It was dangerously little. That could be deadly this close to the energy-hungry arena crystals. Jok remembered the hand the older boy had offered the younger boy. Then, he reached out his hand.

  “Do you want to turn me into a mirror?” Tevi asked.

  Jok staggered back, startled. Had he become such a monster that Tevi assumed that was all he wanted? Uncertain, he reached out his hand again. “I want to help you,” he said quietly. “That is, if you still trust me enough.”

  Tevi thought for a moment. Then, a weak smile appeared on his face. “I can try.” He took Jok’s hand.

  Tevi was so drained, Jok’s energy flowed into him almost on its own. Apparently, it was too much at once. Tevi’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed against the wall. Jok reacted instinctively. He sent his consciousness into Tevi’s body via the familiar link.

  As before, he ended up in a large crystal hall, only this time, the crystals looked cloudy and several even had cracks in them. He quickly stabilized Tevi’s breathing and circulation. Then, he searched for Tevi. He looked around. Nothing. A quiet noise attracted h
is attention. He followed it and entered a very dark and rotten area. In the midst of dirty, red shards of crystal sat a little boy, crying silently. Tevi! That’s what his friend had looked like when they saw each other for the first time. Jok bent down and took the little boy in his arms. “I am so sorry. I am so very sorry!” he whispered and soothingly rocked the little boy back and forth. “I didn’t want to hurt you, it just happened. Please forgive me!”

  The little boy sniffled and rubbed his dirty fists over his tear-smeared face. “Is everything okay, now?” he whispered. “Will you stop being mean to me?”

  “You were my best and only friend. I miss you so much! Being a Red is so terribly lonely!”

  Little Tevi arose and took Jok’s hand. They walked back to the center of the crystal dome. As they walked back, the cloudy crystals regained some of their shine and brightness. Tevi’s image grew with each step until he was the young man Jok knew in the real world. They stopped beneath the zenith of the dome.

  “Don’t ever do it again!” Tevi said seriously. “I don’t think I’d be able to give you another chance.”

  Jok nodded. He didn’t dare say a word. The fragile friendship he had won back was too precious. Tevi hugged him briefly and then gave him a gentle, loving push back into his body.

  Jok wanted to run away. He had almost killed his best friend. He cursed the day Master Go had come to his village. He cursed his magical powers. He cursed Go and Nao and the Crystal Chamber and everything related to sorcery. Frustrated, he pounded his fists against the invisible wall that even surrounded his balcony. There was no way out. He was trapped in Master Go’s house. There was only one, very limited way for his consciousness to flee. It was brief and unsatisfying, but better than nothing: the falcon.