The Silent Blade

by P. S. Power

  It was a fine path to walk on.

  Too much of a show and he would seem false and as if he truly had no concerns beyond how he was perceived. Too little and he’d seem heartless and cold.

  Prince Naveed closed his eyes.

  “No one thinks that of you. It is delicate. This unfortunate passing of my brother has put many things in abeyance for a time. We must also see that our people don’t suffer for lack of care from us, at the same time.” He threw his hands out, and shook his head. “You are not the only one that is being called on their action. Not even the only one being asked not to do good works, at this time. There aren’t a lot of them, but you aren’t alone, I promise. Father, what is allowed for Prince Anders to occupy his time with, during this time of mourning?”

  The Sula glared back, and held it, staring at Naveed, who didn’t look away at all, seeming merely questioning. Both men had the same intense brown eyes that the rest of the royal family did there. Depak Sona was looking away from the scene again, but his face was mild and unconcerned, suddenly. That he’d been worked up a bit when Anders was being asked not to make a fool of himself, or make the royal family look bad, hadn’t truly registered with him until it went away.

  Master Belford went still, until the Sula spoke.

  “Ah... Cleverly making me do my own job. I suppose that’s fair, if annoying. The answer is, of course, a simple one. Prince Anders, for the time being, I’d ask you to retire during the days to the library here and to memorize any text that interests you. When you aren’t occupied in other training?” He glanced at Depak Sona, who smiled, in a slow and sad way, and then at Master Belford. “Prince Anders has become the Master of Great One Eltha Tennet, in magic. While I can’t love what that might mean in the future, if war comes again, in the moment it certainly makes both Barquea and Istlan seem good, doesn’t it?”

  There was a seated, slightly slow, bow, from Master Belford, the light from the high windows reflecting off his slightly shiny black hair. He used some kind of grease or oil on it, Anders knew. He could smell it when they closed, personally. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he didn’t know the reason for it at all. It wasn’t a popular thing in either court and certainly not outside of those places, as far as he’d ever noticed.

  “Indeed. Is... I wasn’t aware that you were of that level, as of yet, Prince Anders...”

  Depak Sona grinned and actually seemed pleased, for the first time since the passing of Lassa.

  “He has areas to advance in, but the truth is that Anders is one of the best teachers of magic I have ever encountered. Even after learning his methods, I struggle to get the same results. Princess Lissa is learning his techniques as well, but is not yet to his level that way. Also, he is, in his own right, probably one of the top twenty or so magic users in our two lands, at this point. I cannot be certain, but he is probably the greatest in Istlan. Though, many have been moving forward well that way now, and Farad Ibn Istel is a force to be aware of now that he has moved there.”

  It was a strange thing to say, since Anders wasn’t certain he was better than Far in magic at all. Except that, in the skills Depak cared about, that might be true. Far was a, perhaps the, master of entities in their world. His use of personal magic was real, but rather weak, due to that area not being a personal strength of his body.

  For some reason Master Belford went wide eyed at that suggestion.

  “That’s impressive then. I still recall teaching you how to properly eat at table, and now you’re a master of the mystical arts?”

  Everyone else seemed upset by the playful words, and implied doubt.

  Anders simply laughed, lightly. Keeping it subdued, since it was a dark time and being giddy would, as had been mentioned, be crass.

  “I feel that same way, most days. I school my mind, say the words and still jump on occasion when something actually happens. Now, I’m being gifted with time to memorize some books? That’s a fine present, but I don’t know that I deserve such.” He didn’t go into why, but the Sula waved at him, and closed his eyes.

  “Find me a thousand hard working men of learning, and suggest to them that they should sit in a room and actually commit entire texts to memory and not even one will act as if it’s a prize being given. Indeed, I worry that some will assume I am displeased with you, asking for such. It is only that I recall your interests there in the past. You can, of course, sit and play the day away as well, if you wish? Or do some hard labor, to show your grief. That would best be done with your own hands, instead of magic, however.”

  That seemed about correct to him, so Anders nodded, which was almost a bow to the man.

  “I’ll do the one with the books, to start? I... It’s a delicate thing, and perhaps not the time?” The Sula looked at him strangely, then, made a move that seemed to request him going on. “Eltha Tennet has chosen to marry Prince Naveed, you’ve heard of this? We’re moving slowly, at the moment, but...”

  The man nodded.

  “I have spoken with my advisors on this matter. It has been deemed important, and asking Prince Naveed to not marry, due to the death of his would-be killer is going to be taken incorrectly, if ever noticed by the masses. I agree that moving slowly is of use. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged and did his own looking away then.

  “I was thinking of traveling toward Modroc with the others, if it’s allowed. This matter might change that. If the wedding isn’t to be for a while, Eltha was considering making the journey back home, since it isn’t too far, compared to being in Istlan. If she is to stay here, I will make my excuses with the ruler of that land, and beg off on going myself, so I may stay and see to my new duties there. If she’s traveling that way, we can see to Princess Salina and Princess Lissa being delivered to their military training, as well as, perhaps, building a bridge over the river that was put in place there?”

  Prince Naveed nodded, his head bouncing.

  “I... A bridge is a good sign, and if we build it, we can control the size and placement? Also, put a military group there to watch it, from the start? If similar facilities are placed on both sides, perhaps? An acknowledgment that things are, perhaps, tense, while also being the ones to reach a hand out, and offer peace?”

  Depak snorted.

  “Which only works if both sides are aware of it happening from the start. Can you connect with the man again, Anders? Sulat Mondeth?”

  He thought before speaking and then let his head move side to side.

  “Possibly? Let me see if I can connect with Far, and have him set that in motion for us? I don’t have any entity friends, right now, and don’t know anyone from Modroc who is currently there. I can go and see to that, as soon as a message is prepared? If it isn’t possible... Well, I can go and deliver it first, if need be.”

  That got a bow, from the Sula, even if it was a strange thing to say.

  “Thank you, then, Prince Anders. If you and Prince Naveed would see to drafting and sending such a missive, asking if that would be welcome? The Sulat might say no, of course. It isn’t a bad plan, even if rejected. You have my endorsement, so far. Allow me to see the message, before it is sent, however? It will be binding as to being my own words, so I think I deserve that much consideration in the matter.”

  Anders bobbed in place and Naveed stood, as if dismissed. That had Anders scrambling to his feet, in case it did mean that and he was behind in his understanding of the rules there. The Prince, taller than he was, darker of skin and while thin now, in an average way, still thicker than Anders, made a graceful gesture. Anders simply bowed, even if it was a bit more formal. One of the men was the son of the other and well known to him. Anders was, at best, his side-grandchild and they’d met face to face no more than six times in his entire life.

  So he was going to be extra polite, even if it made him seem strange there. Then, because everyone else was important as well, he bowed in their directions, using the Barquean polite form, with his hands out to his side, at shoulder width, palms down.


  Master Belford smiled. It was a bit dark seeming. Then, the man was, in general. Not evil, but it would be very possible for a person who didn’t know him to think that was the case. He tended to brood, a bit.

  “Anders, would you meet with myself and my wife for the late meal?”

  He had no clue where that would be taken, but it was probably no more than a few doors down from where he ate most days, so nodded. He could ask after that, after all.

  “If the needs of work do not press me into missing? We have some hours, but...”

  The man gave a single nod then, and the others ignored their leaving, even if Naveed was very important there. In the hallway, the man let out a gust of air.

  “That was well done. Father was beside himself all night, feeling that requesting you not to do that healing might be seen as... Well, preventing you from rising in the ranks here. That isn’t allowed, but still happens, from time to time. Sula doesn’t mean perfect, after all. We all have our favorites and if a person is desperately struggling to show how useful and favorable they are and the Sula refuses them that chance... Well, there have been wars over such things in the past. That isn’t Father’s intent here, of course.” They were walking at a sedate pace, the other man’s head bare, but his body was in heavy layers of silk and ornately embroidered clothing. It was silver on blue, with white trousers that were loose and black sandals. A combination of practicality in the heat and showmanship.

  Which had probably been for the benefit of Depak Sona, since the work on the top was clearly new and magical in nature.

  Anders grinned, looking slightly up at the man.

  “Say, you aren’t wearing the robes of a magician or magic user... How are you escaping that?” He was wearing a version of that outfit, since Depak Sona had suggested it as the custom there, on their first trip. That had been to mark Anders as a master of such arts though, so was, he didn’t doubt, more of a trick than a needful thing.

  No one in the city had thought it was beneath them to be healed by a boy in simple clothing that anyone might be wearing on the street there. That kind of thing marked him as an Apprentice, however. He’d used magic, and not claimed the full title allowed.

  The other man smiled.

  “That is because I am not a master of such things. Or, well, perhaps I would count now, but no one has tested me on such, to check, so it’s an unknown. That’s all it is. It would be hubris to lay claim without a proper test of my skills. Also, improper to ask after such, in a time of mourning, so, this. I should be in all white, but...” The man closed his lips, tightly, and shook his head. “That brat nearly killed me. I should have died and nearly did. The palace healer told me that such wounds should have ended my life instantly and it was only luck that they didn’t. Then you ran to my side and saved me. The healer also told me that he didn’t believe anyone else would have managed it. Perhaps the Great One, but no other. And you did that, even if I stand in the way of the throne.”

  Anders shrugged.

  “Not so much in the way, truly. The Sula almost has to send me back down the ranks now, on the next listing, doesn’t he? I... Failed. I know everyone is being kind to me about it, but Lassa was my responsibility and I... Well, you know the outcome there. The Master is responsible for what the student does.” Naveed had nearly died. It was laying heavy in the air for a moment.

  When the man spoke, he nearly sounded drunk, or perhaps dumbfounded at the stupidity of Anders Brolly. One or the other seemed to be causing his words to slur. Anders checked for drugs or poisons, then damage that might have been missed, before the man could even get the first line out.

  “That’s ridiculous. Father rather flatly, and not without some kindness, informed me last night that the only reason you are not taking my place at this moment, between lists, is that I nearly died. Now, you are not from here, so I will explain that he means that as a goad to keep me working hard and trying, but I can’t say it’s wrong, can I? Notice that he asked for you to aid me in this bridge project? That isn’t just because it will be your work and effort, though that doesn’t hurt at all. No, Father is sending a message, to any who will listen, saying that you, my nephew, are considered to be highly valued here. Of a place equal, or at least near equal, to my own. Regardless of some numbers on a piece of paper...” He shook his head, in mock sadness.

  Then they walked for a while, with Anders being waved at a curtain, covering a door.

  “My office space.”

  Anders held up his right hand, getting the man to stop. Then checked the room with magic.

  “There is someone inside. Two people. With... Masks on. They are very calm, centered, but... Something is not correct here.”

  He whispered the words, which were still, obviously to him, heard by the man and the woman there.

  “Behind me, Prince Naveed.”

  His left hand came up presenting a shield of magical power just in time for what could only be called a cascade of wood fire spark to bounce off of it. That was followed by a great black plume, which would cause his body to rot away if it touched him. He’d added that kind of thing to his own protections, after seeing both Depak Sona and Salina use such in battle. It worked well, but as with everything else, it had to touch you to do its damage.

  The curtain was pressed up, as Naveed started to yell something. It was loud and started people calling out, in the distance, as Anders saw the two people who were attacking. Both of them carried wooden weapons, short sticks that had ornate carvings along their length, and their faces were covered with masks that were more like bright yellow and dark black helms than simple face coverings. The style was still the same as what Prince Lassa had worn, however.

  The magic, however, was unique.

  “I don’t suppose you’d both like to surrender?”

  The man grunted at him, his voice dark, deep and angry sounding. Also accented, in a familiar fashion.

  “Die now, Prince Naveed! You shall not unify our lands! You will not bring about the death of our order!”

  The weapons they were using were powerful enough, but nothing Anders couldn’t block, even at close range. He didn’t even need to counter attack, since both the man and woman grew tired, exhausted by the use of the things, which ate the energy of their lives to perform its tasks. That took about fifteen passes though, before they both tried to put the things away and come at him with knives. When he hazarded a glance back, Naveed was next to some of the guards, and while they all had weapons out, no one called out for him to do any particular thing.

  So, he focused on the blades. A scimitar and a long knife.

  “Swa et li Swa, seve feron, ere ot ere, fen.”

  That, rather nicely, came out sounding deep, at least for him, and relaxed. The two people just froze, as their weapons fell into five even pieces, landing on the stone floor at their feet. Then he knocked them both back, with a single gesture, his right hand pressing forward, palm out.

  Letting them go for whatever other weapons they had was a poor plan, after all. It probably seemed to the others as if he’d gone mad with battle, since he pushed them both back and down, using magic and then leapt at them with his own fists flying, kicking and trying to grab the man’s arms.

  “A bit of help now? Don’t let them pull anything out!”

  The guards did that part, none too gently, and helped him to strip them. Bare, even if that was rude of them to do. It was clear that the guards, some of them at least, thought they were supposed to rape the captives, since they looked at each other, seemed aghast, and then started to take their own lower clothing off.

  “Sorry, not that. Never that. We just need to make certain they don’t have any weapons. Could new clothing be collected for them, that won’t have anything like that hidden in it?”

  That took some moments, but did happen, even if it was only Anders asking after such things. It took longer, he suspected, because no one knew, off the top of their heads, what prisoners were supposed to wear when visiting
the castle. It didn’t come up that often, or so it seemed from the muttering of the guards. Thankfully, they seemed relieved and not upset about the lack of rape taking place. As if they’d been willing to follow his commands, being a Prince, but didn’t want to bother with such an uncivilized idea, if possible.

  The lady, who wasn’t a high beauty, but was cute in a slightly horse faced fashion, having large teeth and a grand nose, along with short cropped hair, tried to curse them then. Specifically, even if Anders had been the one in the way, she tried for Prince Naveed. The words were in Modroc, but it was a real, actually magical, spell.

  One with no power of note behind it at all.

  “You will die within the day!” It was screamed, and as Anders read her mind, he understood a lot more about the woman and her fellow attacker. They were, as he’d suspected, from Modroc, but they weren’t working for the Sulat or his family. Instead, they were from a fanatical order that was mainly religious. For some reason, on hearing that they now had a Great One, to rival Barquea, they’d decided that preventing the marriage between Eltha and Naveed was worth a possible war.

  Which led to a lot more questions than he had time to pull from the lady’s mind just then.

  “How did you know about the marriage? It’s only been decided in the last three days... By Eltha, by the way. She picked Naveed, not the other way around. Not that she isn’t worth selecting as a wife, Prince Naveed. She truly is. Simply, I want it known that Eltha Tennet isn’t being forced into this, at least as far as who she selected went. There is, perhaps, a bit of the feeling of duty to the whole thing, I’ll admit. The same is true of Prince Naveed, if that makes you feel better on the issue?”