The Silent Blade

by P. S. Power

  Eltha flipped a hand up at that.

  “How do I pick then? I don’t know... Naveed? It’s selfish, but I will get to be a Queen, after a fashion, if one of many. Is that...”

  The others seemed hopeful enough. Anders, the boy inside at least, felt a bit sad. Not that he wanted her to pick Hoatha, of course. No, it was that, even if he hadn’t really thought about it much and understood it was impossible, he wanted her to pick him.

  Which even the boy portion of him knew wasn’t going to work. Not with her and not just then. If he’d been five years older, or she younger, it might have. Then, he could also see that one having gone very wrong, with her having to still marry another man and him having bound himself into a long-term pain at her loss that way.

  Instead, he smiled as if he meant it and nodded.

  “Very good! We need to work out how to do this, rather carefully. There was just a death in the family, so mourning periods will be needed. Plus, we can decide how the wedding will happen. Are you staying here or traveling to Modroc with us, do you think?”

  She, having just at that moment blurted out a name, didn’t know, of course. Anders didn’t really press. Duma Sett smiled and reached across the very low wooden table, to pat her hand.

  “We should let Hoatha and Naveed know? Even if the rest must wait. After all, if Hoatha wishes to beg for you to accept him instead, it would be unkind to not allow him the chance.”

  Anders could see that, actually. Not that Ganges the Great and Terrible was going to beg a woman for her hand in marriage just then. It had probably happened, in the past, but in the situation they found themselves there was simply no reason for that.

  At least he hadn’t mentioned a deep love for Eltha.

  Anders was willing to do his part that way, but apparently, such things were going to be dumped on Depak’s shoulders. That made sense as well, since he was the son of one of the men and the twice great grandfather of the other. While, after a fashion, not being close to either of them. Not in a way that would make giving such news too hard for him.

  Anders doubted there would have been tears, either way, really. Still, all of them were good people, so this ending, or possible beginning was as fine as the other. Also, he didn’t have to try to convince Eltha that Hoatha Eta was a fifteen-hundred-year-old man, who had a reputation for once having gotten millions of people killed. That was going to make his own life far simpler, in the coming days, he didn’t doubt.

  Anders wondered what his part in the situation was going to be. His own place, in his own mind, wasn’t a very important one, he realized. Standing back and at most sending a message or two, to let people know what the plans were. Instead, Eltha and Duma Sett took over and started making a list of how to let everyone know what was going on, and who to get in contact with first.

  Depak smiled at the machinations and opened the door, so the food would come. Tena and three other women, none of them all that old, entered carrying the blue and white patterned ceramic bowls, covered platters and a tray with spatha on it, for each dish. It was the late meal, dinner, so more effort had been put into the well spiced foods.

  Savory meats, flat bread that had been fried in oil and well boiled grains of three types. There were also two types of plantains, one of them made with sugar, which was nearly a dessert, if not served at the end of the meal, specifically. They had tea to drink. At least Anders did. Eltha and Clarissa both had wine, and Depak was served something that, on checking it with his mind, turned out to be water.

  He’d only been curious, but realized things were unsettled, so made a point to go over all the food and drinks. Intently enough that everyone stared at him, with Duma Sett tightening her jaw.

  “You suspect... Untoward matters are afoot?” This was murmured, in Modroc. A language that they all understood. Then, any listeners would as well.

  “Not at all. Nor is anything wrong with the food. Things are going to be tense here for the moment, so being careful is important. Now, Eltha, you have a plan?”

  The woman took her food, since no prayers or salutations were needed at a simple meal in Barquea before doing that. As she did that, having washed her hands using the clean damp cloth in the covered bowl behind her for that purpose, as had the rest of them, she nodded. It meant she was slightly damp, with her skin glistening ever so faintly in the light coming through the open window.

  “I should tell Hoatha first, as suggested. Then, I think, send a letter directly to Prince Naveed, and ask his opinion on the topic. If he truly doesn’t want me, we could find another way, after all. This isn’t a love match, though he seems a fine man.” She winked at Anders. “So, if he rejects me, I don’t have to have a broken heart for a year, or hate him for it. Then... Well, my guess is that we go slowly, after that. Announcements and a plan to marry in half a year? I might be going home first, given that? It would be nice to see familiar places again, for a while. I used to travel the whole of Modroc, for my work, so that could be interesting.”

  That left nothing much for Anders to see to at all, in that matter. Which was a relief. He had, for some strange reason, ended up being involved in far too many things where a boy, or the memory of an old historian, didn’t really belong. That was a thing he felt keenly, in the moment. Wondering if he, in some fashion, should have not been involved with the whole thing around Lassa at all. Now he was tainted by the actions of the boy, poorer and as it turned out, he’d wasted several days, working to help the fellow learn to school his thoughts. Things he didn’t even have any longer. If he did, well... Anders understood that spirits and Devica existed. It was possible that the boy had continued in some fashion. If so, whatever he was or became, Anders hoped it would work out better for him than life had.

  One thing that Anders had learned over the last years was a lesson that had come out of war and travel, not anything he’d gleaned from Farad, in particular. It was simply that, when one thing failed, you moved to the next and fought as hard as you could not to let everything fall apart. Stewing on losses too much only got you killed.

  The current situation wasn’t that kind of thing. Not for Anders directly, but getting his feet under himself again was important. Which had him scrambling for what he needed to do next. That, of course, was to get with his people. All of them, and make certain they were doing well. In the last two weeks, or nearly so, he’d barely spoken to Erold and hadn’t seen Princess Sweyn at all. He’d healed people, and then... Kind of spent all his efforts on Lassa.

  So, a lot of time was going to free up for him, suddenly.

  “Duma Sett, would you come with me into town to practice some healing, soon? You know the needed terms?”

  The woman laughed at the suggestion.

  “I can, I think, push a person back and make some simple lights, so far. Healing is beyond me. We haven’t had much of a chance to practice such things, of late.”

  He nodded.

  “In the evenings, then, until you’re ready? In my room?” Everyone grinned awkwardly, which for once, he understood. Then he shook his head. “Except you all know that I don’t mean it that way, just the one involving magical work. Even I know to be more subtle than to suggest such a thing at a meal. We should have Princess Sweyn in with us? If she has the time to do anything such as that. She isn’t the most powerful magic user, directly, but her skills are growing nicely, or were. I don’t wish her to lose that. I have some books for her. I should rewrite some of those into Modroc, actually.”

  The woman, who was attractive, even if she wasn’t improving her looks with illusion at the moment, only using makeup for that effort, sighed. It was the kind of thing meant to express much, with little effort.

  “Ah, lessons, at my age, too. I suppose I should do that? Eltha has been teaching me some of your tricks, of course...” She looked down, as if they hadn’t gone over that before.

  He fought a rolling of his eyes at the interplay.

  “As she was supposed to. We’ll go over everything you know and se
e where we can improve things? Eltha, you’re invited, as well, but I don’t know what kind of training you’ve been doing each day. Using as much magic as possible? As a Great One... Well, I have no call to tell you how to fit into that occupation.” He hadn’t been asked, even if he had some thoughts about the idea.

  Eltha wrinkled her nose.

  “That isn’t real, just a fiction being used to allow me to seem important.”

  Depak snorted. It was not a polite or kind sounding thing.

  “Oh, certainly. Until a war comes and you must face me in battle, Eltha. Then I have to think that your people will insist that being their Great One means very much. I truly hope that day never arrives, but if we meet, over the field of battle, we will each have to do what we can to save our people. It isn’t kind or good, but I fear that this title you now have is only going to be an imagined thing until the first crisis of any sort. Then you will be expected to act, and if found wanting, people will most likely die.”

  The tone was sad, dire and a bit annoyed seeming. It was, Anders had come to realize, how he handled a student who wasn’t meeting what he thought they were capable of, at any time. Anders shrugged, as Eltha seemed a bit down at the words. Duma Sett looked puzzled.

  Anders nodded.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate for Depak Sona to act as your master in such things, of course. He isn’t incorrect, after all. You may, at some point, be required to face him in battle. Still, you know the rule there Eltha. If you wish to be very good, you must practice very much.” She’d told him that, after all.

  A thing she clearly recalled, from her expression.

  “Oh, so are you to be my Master then, Anders Brolly? I’m nearly certain you just demanded that both the greatest illusionist of Modroc and one of our Princesses heel to your word...”

  The words held a wry and slightly dismissive air to them, which, if he had the idea right, wasn’t the woman saying that she couldn’t see that happening, rather that she wanted Anders to prove himself, by taking control of the situation. It was a Modroc thing, that wasn’t part of Istlan or Barquean life at all.

  So he lowered his head, hooded his eyes and flared his nostrils, just a bit.

  “Exactly. It will seem strange, a boy being in that position. There are rules to such things, of course... The Master to Great Ones does not berate, or hound the Apprentice. You will be expected to seek improvement constantly. The time of play is done, I fear. Oh, in small moments there may be merriment, so that life has some joy, but at every turn, you will agree to do your best. To fix errors, without it being mentioned, and when you run out of things to do, finding yet another way to improve. Then, I will likely be a poor master, having other lands to be in than you, most of the time. I shall have to improve on my ability to communicate in the distance. Today, in fact. There are people I need to get with that way already.”

  It was true, but he didn’t mention who. That really didn’t matter. Not to the people with him.

  Instead of returning the words with sass and humor, Eltha stopped, looked at Duma Sett and then lowered her head.

  “It will be done, Dumo Anders.”

  Everyone was silent then, with, after some moments of eating, Depak Sona grimacing.

  “I will have to increase my own practice then, if Modroc is going to become a greater force in the magical world. Truly, even Princess Sweyn would require that of me, I believe. They will see that they can do more that way than they thought before. In response, we of Barquea must learn to work with the dark... With the Devica, more. To befriend them. You have learned some of Farad’s tricks for that? Taking lessons from the King of the Sluoagh is a heady thing, I would have to think.”

  The ladies looked at Depak, seeming interested at the use of the term.

  The totally bald man, his face bare in mourning, with only stubble at the sides of his head and where his mustache had been, smiled.

  “Anders went on a journey, and found Farad Ibn Istel. We of Barquea know of him as the Sula of the Sluoagh. I believe you know him as the Old Man in the Mountain? The Founder of your land who left you the way of the shaman? He’s alive, and currently living in Istlan.”

  Eltha nodded.

  “Far? I... Did not know the rest of that. Is that real? I mean, any might make a great claim, but that one sounds... Like a lie, to be honest. Something that could not happen.”

  Instead of taking offense, Anders nodded.

  “I know that one. It’s him. I saw his entire life, touching his mind. He’s a most able man. Not that it matters, truly, except that his way with the Devica is better than anyone else to have ever lived. He’s shown me some small tricks that way. I have a lot more to learn and it isn’t my own personal best ability that way at all. We also worked out how to use the nullifying talent of magic. Sweyn showed you both how to do that?” She was, after all, the best at that so far, out of everyone to have learned the skill.

  Eltha shook her head.

  “We were told of it and shown that it works. It’s an impressive thing. Standing in front of us, she can turn our ability to cast illusion to nothing, if she works hard enough. She didn’t know if it was allowed to teach us such skills, however. You came up with how to do that, didn’t you? With Prince Erold and Far?”

  He nodded, even if it felt as if he were bragging, doing it. That was a fact, and based on a thing that he’d noticed first, so it was as true as any other way of putting things.

  “It’s a useful skill, or might be, in certain types of battle. Mainly if you have to fight another magic user at close range. In that case, then physical fighting skills are going to be needed. I need to start carrying my stick around, for that purpose. That or break down and arm myself with a sword all the time. The staff is taken as me being pretentious though, where a blade seems a bit threatening to most people.”

  No one spoke for a moment, then Depak fixed him with a solid gaze.

  “Was that the reason? I hadn’t wanted to ask, since it truly does seem a bit... Fanciful. Also, perhaps, needful now. A good plan. I should seek to do that myself, perhaps?”

  He didn’t speak for a while, finally nodding.

  “Let’s claim it’s the new sign of a magical healer? True, we might end up healing sores and mild illness when on the street, but that won’t seem too threatening, will it?”

  Eltha ate, and looked up, chewing, in a thoughtful manner.

  “I need to work on that more as well. Healing. I can do some basic things, but I have to admit, other things have called my attention first.”

  After that, everyone acted as if nothing had been said, and they finished the meal, washed their hands on the second towel in the bowls behind them on the floor and everyone left. Anders was only a bit shocked to find both Duma Sett and Princess Sweyn, bulging at the middle with child, but only a little, in her fine golden gown, at his door.

  He didn’t say hello, or give either woman a greeting of any sort.

  “Good! Come in. Princess, please cover everything you know so far. Duma, ready yourself to do the same. This includes illusion, so I expect this to take a while.”

  Indeed, it took until nearly midnight.

  Anders smiled at the end, after seeing what Duma Sett could do. She’d praised him and his efforts in illusion. He did have a few tricks that were good, and useful, of course. Duma Sett, when she showed her true powers, had transformed the room into a different place that was so perfect Anders couldn’t tell it wasn’t reality. The people she made were so perfect that he forgot they weren’t real and there with them, when they were created.

  In short, even using things that he knew how to do, probably without even striving too hard, the woman had shown just how much Anders had to learn that way, without a single word being spoken about the topic. So, while he’d thought to gain knowledge of what she needed to learn and it was a lot, in the skills of the magician and especially that of the wizard, she’d also taught him how very much he had left to learn himself.

  Which, of
course, was how it should be.

  Chapter thirteen

  The next days went oddly for Anders. Mainly due to the fact that he was requested, by the Sula, not to go into the city to do the daily healing. It was a bit strange being asked that, but when he heard the reasoning, Anders had to agree.

  “It isn’t that I don’t wish you to do good works, of course. It is only that, in this dark time, it might seem, perhaps...” The man was clearly searching for a good way to say what he wanted.

  Master Belford glanced at the room, which was large, open and held only Depak Sona, and Prince Naveed, who were both looking away at that moment. Other than Anders and of course, the Sula, who was at the front of the space, sitting stiffly on his ornate blue and green embroidered pillow. The large thing was plump and comfortable, while still not being a chair.

  It was the Baron from Istlan who understood what was needed first.

  “It could be seen as crass, given your station. As if you don’t care that one of your family died. Which... It would be no different back home, truly.”

  The Sula ducked, as if he feared being struck over the idea. Anders simply winced.

  “Ah... I hadn’t been thinking of that at all. I should... Well, I’ll go and put a sign up, to explain? Also... How to summon me if the healing needs are more important than my grief? I don’t want to... No, that could seem as if I’m just pretending to care, instead of burying myself in my work, to hide from the whole thing.”

  The people of Lo’usa Tet had survived before he’d shown up, and they would after he left.

  “Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t feel this. I do.” That was actually true. At least the Farad portion of him did. Anders, the boy, truly hadn’t loved Lassa all that much. He’d been annoying and took up a lot of time. Even he knew not to seem like he wasn’t grieving over the whole thing. Not with tears and rending of his clothing, but that would seem off. After all, he’d only known the boy for twelve days.