The Silent Blade

by P. S. Power

  It was, after a fashion, their evening’s entertainment. At least that was how Anders was taking it. Farad, the real version, seemed to have something different in mind.

  “So, Eltha is going off to be married? At least possibly. That’s big news. Is this Naveed kind, do you think?”

  He did, so nodded.

  “He seems a good man, actually. A bit heavy, but just in the way that rich men sometimes are. Hoatha, Ganges, he’s decent as well.” Anders hoped so, at least. He wasn’t the kind to beat his wives at least. He was willing to wager every coin he had on that fact.

  Far nodded, holding a heavy cabinet to the wall, so that Anders could attach it with magic. Merging it with the stone, in a complicated fashion. It took several tries for him to work out how to do that well enough. The other man didn’t act as if he was tiring from holding the weight at any point.

  “Certainly, Ganges is fine for that... Only, I notice that you didn’t suggest yourself for the role? Is there, perhaps, a different young lady who’s caught your attention?”

  “No? Who? Lady Martya?” She wasn’t young, but she didn’t look old at all.

  The man winked at him then.

  “Princess Lissa? She’s already well placed, has personal interests that match your own and is prettier than most women could hope to be. She’s also less than a year younger than you, I think? Not so much as for that being thought strange at all.”

  Farad, the one inside of him, suddenly took over, glaring at the other man.

  “She’s twelve.”

  That got a shrug in return.

  “You’re thirteen.” The words came with a grin. It suddenly looked annoying. Familiar as well, since Anders held the same expression all the time, no doubt.

  “Part of me is, but the rest is an old man.”

  That got a head shake.

  “No, Anders. You aren’t two people in one body. You have a copy of my old memories, from long ago. It’s a good trick, I think anyone would admit, but it isn’t my soul, or spirit. You are a man of thirteen years, with an interesting set of quirks. There is nothing at all wrong with you courting a girl who is nearly your own age. Besides, it’s clear she likes you. You should think about it? A man could do worse.”

  It was an odd conversation, but thankfully the returning Devic, all three of them, derailed the planned line of talk from wherever it was heading.

  Thankfully.

  Chapter three

  Anders was busy over the next days. There was a bit of packing and going into the city to buy supplies for the trip, though this time they were actually traveling with people who could share the cooking duties, even on the ship. They weren’t new people even, simply being two of the men who had traveled in with Princess Sweyn and the others in the first place.

  That Anders had never understood why they were there was a bit shocking to him, having investigated the men for various reasons and even having focused on their thoughts, as well as speaking to them, almost every single day. He’d thought they were guards, if polite ones who didn’t walk around with weapons showing all the time.

  More than that, in the group of men that had arrived over a year before, none of them were fighters, in particular. There were artists, craftsmen and even an entertainer who sang and played music, all of whom had done their work without Anders being the wiser to it, the whole time.

  Given he’d been in charge of watching them, at least occasionally, that information left him feeling poorly. Both parts of him in fact. It wasn’t that important, but to have missed such things as one of the men being a dedicated musician, who had played for King Matheus and his family at least once a month for over a year was...

  Daunting.

  He’d truly figured that, in his own area, there in the castle, he’d been up on at least the situations he was around regularly. Not, perhaps, the work of the spies or the intrigue, since no one was going to fill him in on those things, but things like the men of Modroc going to an art studio out back to work in clay every day should have been easily enough noticed.

  True, none of the men from there understood what he did each day either, other than coming to clean for them, or going off to the war, but that could be forgiven. They weren’t tasked with watching him.

  It was embarrassing, to say the least. Dangerous as well. Worse, when he’d brought the idea up with Prince Robarts, the man had merely smiled at him. Then suggested that it wasn’t the place of a boy to be aware of all the goings on of the castle. It had been meant well, but had still hurt a bit.

  He was, at least inside his head, more than just some boy, after all.

  Still, he had a pack ready, and a small chest of gold and silver coins, in a sealed box, at the bottom of his things. That meant not taking a large array of fine clothing, but the truth was he didn’t have that kind of thing anyway. What he did have were weapons and his fancy new walking stick, which was a bit longer than the one he’d first started with. It didn’t have a handle on it now, and reached to the top of his head, but the fine engravings and carvings left no doubt in the minds of those seeing it that the thing was a decoration.

  Which was his plan for it, anyway. It was meant to leave him seeming decorative, and perhaps a bit full of himself, rather than armed constantly.

  He’d hired several wagons from the city to take the food and drink he’d purchased, at a dear price, to the docks. Those were some hours away, by wagon, so he settled into the back of one of the rough conveyances, instead of taking one of the places in the carriages provided. That wasn’t about him being grumpy or not caring to ride with the others, either.

  They only had so much space in the six fine looking royal coaches, after all. It was important for the fine types to ride in comfort, on the way home, so that Istlan wouldn’t look poor or uncouth when the tale was told, later. Anders was a bit surprised when Hoatha, Depak and Lady Martya climbed in with him, each of them finding a space in the mainly empty wagon. They also had Brenner, one of the Modroc artists. The one who did paintings, in fact.

  They rode in silence for a bit, with Anders finally shrugging, since clearly his clever plans of reading minds and watching politely had left him crippled, as far as learning things had gone in the last year.

  “Lady Martya! I hadn’t heard that you were planning to travel with us. Is... All well?” He sounded absurdly phony to his own ears. From their smiles, everyone else thought the same.

  Laughing a bit, Martya nodded.

  “Well, I came to see an old friend, from my ancient memories, of a life that I never lived. I did that. Two of you, in fact. So it’s time for me to go home. Saffron is staying here, since she met a nice man and is considering marriage. That gives us a spy here and we don’t really need more than one or two of those.” The mention of another such being was, clearly done on purpose. Not even to needle him.

  At least it seemed casual in the mentioning of it.

  So he nodded.

  “I haven’t been keeping up with her as I should have. It’s not being at the castle, of course. I’m a bit surprised that neither of you asked Far to come along. To move back with you, perhaps?”

  Martya shook her head, but smiled. It was a bit sad.

  “Time makes us all strangers to each other, doesn’t it? I recall living with him, for twenty years, longer, if we count the time in the hermitage. So long ago that it’s nearly gone now, even from my own mind. I...” She shook her head, and didn’t speak, for a long time. When she did, she seemed a bit more lively. “When I heard that you had been affected by the crystal with him in it, all I could think of was to come here, as fast as possible and see this for myself. I couldn’t sleep or eat, for nearly a week, after getting that news! Then I came here and found that you were just a child. That I’d come too soon through the pages of time. Then I knew you for some time, before meeting Farad himself. That...”

  She shrugged and looked at Hoatha.

  “He seems fine. Accomplished and well spoken. Kind, even. I’m not drawn to him t
hough, as I’d thought I would be. I could see being his friend, in time, but... Not his love.”

  That had Depak, oddly, nodding.

  “There are other factors involved in such things. Love is never a simple question. Most of the time we don’t see it, since it is a thing that happens to us, or around us, in a short time frame. Those who live long enough will, eventually, see that friendship is far more important than love itself.”

  Everyone else there seemed to get that, instantly. Even Anders, after a moment. He’d never been in love, of course. He had been friends with people, in both his lives, and knew that part of things. Also, he had a lot of tales and stories in his mind. The thing there was that many of those spoke of love in a very different, highly unrealistic, light.

  After a while, Hoatha looked at Martya and made an odd, half move with his right hand. It was blocked by the wall of the wagon, the weathered gray wood rough in that portion of things.

  “I feel much the same. Far is Farad Ibn Istel, in truth. At the same time, he isn’t the man I once knew at all. Perhaps, in many ways, for the better. The one I loved is gone now. I had thought, at first, that Anders would be him, in some fashion. As you always told me though, Rothina, those the crystals impact are truly themselves, not a copy of another. It can be hard to believe that, at first, but I think you are correct.”

  Rolling her eyes, Lady Martya nodded.

  “Well, I am an expert at such things. Perhaps the greatest of such to have ever lived. Now, before it gets too maudlin over lost loves or loves that never were... I was speaking to Lady Lyse the other day. She mentioned that our half plan to have you married to poor Eltha Tennet is going forward, Hoatha? That’s hardly fair to the girl, is it?” There was a teasing smile on her lips as the words were spoken, at least.

  That got a chuckle in return.

  “So it seems? I was surprised that she has been named the Great One of Modroc. Not that she isn’t shaping up to be a fine hand at magic of many sorts, now. I was there to see her awarded the position by Ambassador Fromet and Princess Sweyn, but no one has told me how that came to be. They’ve never had such a title for their people before, lacking grand magics, as they do.”

  Brenner snorted, and spoke in Modroc. A thing that everyone there, including Depak Sona, appeared to understand easily enough. The conversation had been in Istlan before that.

  “Your Shaman sent devica to the Sulat in my homeland and suggested it to him, most directly. I have that from Fromet. Really, he told me that it was you who worked with the beings to bring that about, Brolly. I didn’t know you were a Shaman as well...” There was a strange look then, which lingered, as if asking a question.

  So he answered, honestly enough.

  “I’m just learning such things. It isn’t a particular skill of mine, so I’ll never be truly great at it, but that doesn’t get me out of learning, for some reason.” He tried to make himself seem wry about it, which got a strange reaction from Depak.

  He sighed and shook his head.

  “That, clearly, is a simple truth. I’ve loosely collected information on different disciplines for a while now, without truly learning them. I think, perhaps, that it is time for such laziness to be done. Especially since I have two apprentices to see to now.”

  Anders grinned. The man had aided him greatly over the past year and a half, in his own learning, but, even though they’d said the word apprentice at times, it had never been a true thing, between them. Then, it also hadn’t been needed.

  So he understood who was meant.

  “Yes. I wonder, how will you train two Great Ones? There will be a need for lessons that surpass simple skill in magic, I would think.”

  Everyone looked at Depak then, only to find him seeming grave and stern, for a moment.

  “Why, Anders, I’m going to get you to do it, while I stand back and call out suggestions, of course. Either Princess Salina or Princess Lissa could stand against armies to good affect now. Salina even is a veteran of such things, due to the campaign here. They will need to be pushed for some time, however, over a decade, to ensure they are willing to keep up with their skills for a long while. I plan to bring them back here, when we return, after our visit. There might be some trouble in that though, which will require me to move there, while they train. It depends on what Darian says on the matter. They are his daughters, after all.” There was a long, drawn out, sigh, then. “I have to imagine that these two being slated to take my place will come as a shock to him. I haven’t actually mentioned the idea, as of yet.”

  Anders hadn’t either. Then, he didn’t put words in the ear of the Sula on a regular basis. So far it had happened one time. When he’d been checking to see if anyone else could recall that Hoatha had once been Ganges the Great and Terrible.

  That information having been erased from the minds of most people who might know of such a thing, using magic. Not Anders or his familial line, however, which was interesting. For the moment, he merely thought about what training Salina and Lissa might need. It was, oddly, very close to what he probably should look into for himself.

  Even if he wasn’t planning to be a Great One.

  “Right. You can handle that portion of things. We’ll need to increase the martial training that those two have. Some classes on leading armies, I mean, as well as fighting with weapons. We’ve done a little that way, but only with an eye toward defending themselves. They should learn how to lead troops, so at the very least they can understand the ideas involved, if they come up. That means knowing how each kind of trooper fights, as well. They should also work part of the year in support functions for the military. Healing, building projects and roads. So that they’re used to being around rough types like that and eating mainly hard bread and road rations.”

  He was actually joking, thinking that giving them a few books to read on the topic of war might well be enough. Depak Sona gave him a half bow, his arms going out to the sides, not fully extended.

  “Which is why I plan to leave such things to you, Anders Sona. I would have had them making jewelry and doing some small illusion plays for practice, even though I recall times when such as what you just suggested would have aided me greatly, in my first decades aiding in battles. It took me far longer to pick up in the field than if I’d merely been given instruction.”

  He nodded, ready to go over the particulars of what would be needed for that, when Hoatha clapped. It was a sudden thing and distracting.

  “So! Excitement all around. Anders, you’re being called to Modroc for a purpose? If they’re clever, they’ll beg you to stay there and teach, of course. That or marry you to one of their Princesses. After all, you’re tenth in line for the throne of Barquea and... Something like seventh in line for Istlan? I was speaking with your Prince Robarts on that the other month, in fact. You also have a good claim on Yanse now. Even if your younger brother is to take the throne, you’re a prince there, as well. By their own traditions, even. It means that a clever ruler could add you to his family and potentially consolidate many lands. To the benefit of all of them.”

  Brenner, who had been listening carefully, but without speaking, went wide eyed at that information. Then he swallowed.

  “Our room boy is a prince?”

  Martya answered, in the language of the Modroc, her voice firmer and a bit aggressive sounding as she spoke, even if she wasn’t snapping, in particular.

  “Oh? You missed that portion of things? Being too distracted with pretty court ladies, no doubt! Yes, Anders is important. Then, you knew that from the start, I wager? Who sends a magician to clean rooms? Only those of Istlan! They only had the one who could have done it, back then, as well, so it wasn’t just an honor to your people, but a sign of true friendship. The King had his own grandson come to serve you all, daily, as a signal that he cared for your wellbeing.”

  That was a lie, and a thing that Brenner had probably picked up on, since the real room servants had been a bit lazy toward the foreign men for nearly the whole
time that Anders had been gone. They were better now. Mainly because a good dozen of the servants had learned enough magic to be useful that way, and even if they didn’t want to keep on with the task of learning, had orders to clean the rooms using their skills, every day.

  Which meant that magic, at least in the castle, was finally being accepted as fairly normal. It helped, even if Brenner and his people barely had any magic at all. Some trinkets that worked well enough, in influencing people, and the two illusionists. Not that they were merely that, any longer. Eltha had been teaching Duma Sett each day, after all.

  At least Anders hoped that was the case. If not, he was going to have to make fun of the girl for the lack.

  Brenner faked a laugh then.

  “Well! That’s fitting for the Princess, at least. A bit much, just to clean my space. They could have just presented a brush and a bucket and it would have been fine. Your Istlan ways are odd to me, I must admit. Far more civil than we’d been led to believe, however. At least once people warmed up to us a bit. That took some time and some lonely nights, I assure you all!”

  That statement was left alone, by the others. Anders did as well, since, he had to figure, all of his nights were lonely and would be for some time to come. Farad, the one in his mind, had learned that it was possible to stand aside from his fear of women and had, in recent weeks and months, more or less been trying not to panic every time one of that sort patted Anders on the arm or flirted a bit. It was made easier for him due to the fact that, even though they did flirt and even suggest taking him to their beds occasionally, none of the women there seemed to actually mean it.

  Oh, Anders did wonder if some of them might have done that sort of thing with him if he’d shown more interest, but even the boy inside didn’t assume that it was more than a way to get his attention for most of the ladies. They weren’t seeking marriage or even thinking of him as a fine lover, given his years and relative lack of experience in such matters.