by P. S. Power
For some reason, the idea of being helpful to them wasn’t high on his list of things to get done.
The guard, Damel, nodded.
“As you will, Shaman. I shall spread the word on that. You can speak to the Princess as to why her will is being thwarted?”
Anders snorted.
“Sure, sure... Dump the hard things on me. I’ll do that now.”
He rode back to the nicely decorated tan carriage, and tapped on the side he thought Sweyn was on. Indeed, she poked her head out from the window and smiled.
“Anders?”
“There’s water and a nice place to put up a building or two, about a mile and some small distance down the road. Do you have need of stopping now, or is that fine for you?”
She sighed. It seemed much put upon.
“I need to use the facilities. There are some bushes along here at least. That’s hardly to the dignity of a Princess, is it?” She was jesting in tone, at least.
Anders shrugged.
“A point. Let me call a break. I’ll see to the rest of what is needed?”
Everyone stopped when he yelled, then stood while he took a quarter hour to raise a small hut, which held bathing and washing facilities. There was no water there, on the surface, so he pulled it from deep underground. That wouldn’t help the next person, of course, but it worked for that day, and several people used it, before they got back on the road.
Then, of course, they ended up stopping, less than forty minutes later.
He grinned at it, but didn’t make a large deal out of it. After all, it was an adventure for him, at that point. A thing he tried to keep in mind as he collected wood for a fire, as a decently nice set of buildings and water towers went up. Everyone except for him got to work on those. Anders wasn’t even needed to prepare food or light the fire, since one of the men with them was a cook. One fully trained in Modroc style cuisine, as well as making such things on the road.
So he stood there for a few moments, then tilted his head, and decided to focus on some illusion work. After all, Duma Sett had showed him how very much he could improve what he’d been doing. A lot of it came down to the smallest pieces of things involved, as well. True attention to the details of what was being shown. So, settling on the ground and entering a trance, he worked on a single idea. A person. One who didn’t exist, but who would look, feel and even smell correct.
Everything, from the fit of his boots, to the lines on his face were made to be so real that no one would guess he wasn’t simply riding with them. Except of course, that no one knew the fellow. To that end, Anders gave him both a lute and a gurdy, as well as more colorful clothing. The instruments were wrong for that part of the world, but so was the look of the man, having blond hair and being of a more Yansian aspect.
It was Eltha who came to get him, patting him on the shoulder.
“Anders? We have food ready.” She waited for him to open his eyes, her own locking with his. “Were you speaking to someone?”
“Oh, no. Not that I shouldn’t see to that as well, before I go to sleep. I was just working on a small illusion. Trying to improve my skills that way, since everyone else took care of the rest of... Everything.” He grinned at the idea. “Which, well, we all knew I wasn’t really needed for this part of things, from the start.”
That got snorted at.
“I bet Prince Naveed is grateful that you came. Anyway, you can show me what you were working on, after the meal? I’m starving, for some reason.”
He was as well, so got to his feet, muttered a cleaning spell to remove the dust and dirt and went into the inn that had been pulled from the Earth. It was nice, but in the same style as the things they’d been making in Barquea and Istlan, for the same purpose.
The food, he had to admit, was better than the things that he’d been making on the road. Different than anything he’d ever had, but well done. There were a lot of beans, fried bread and finely chopped greens and herbs, but also dried fruit and somehow, cheese. A thing that he hadn’t seen much of since leaving Istlan.
There was also a small cake for dessert, topped with sugar that had been melted in an interesting fashion.
Now that they were in Modroc, he wasn’t even allowed to help clean up the dishes after the meal it seemed. Instead, Eltha, being a bit mean, clapped her hands.
“Now, Prince Anders has a small illusion for us? We should all sit and act amazed, even if it’s lacking in some way. It would be rude to do otherwise.” She grinned, teasing him. Duma Sett covered her mouth and tittered at the words, and Princess Sweyn nodded.
As if he was really going to need to be propped up that way.
So he nodded and played along. It seemed to be the way the Modroc interacted, much of the time. Especially in their own language or with friends.
“Exactly so. Now...” He took a deep breath, muttered some words...
Then looked up when a knock came on the front door of the inn. A pounding. Followed by a voice. Speaking the language of the land they were in.
“Hello the inn! Is anyone inside? I’m but a weary traveler from afar.”
One of the men, who had been acting as a guard, looked troubled and moved to the door, opening it as some of the others grabbed weapons. Covertly, but they had them.
When the tall, rather pale man moved inside, he smiled, hugely.
“Ah, there are people! This is a lovely establishment. My name is Followland Hearth, a bard from the exotic and strange northland known as Yanse! I could, if it suits you, play for my supper and a place to lay my head this night? This... I haven’t seen the like of such a place before, to be honest. It’s a palace, set alone on the road. A true marvel!” He sounded bold and large, as if he performed for a living.
Princess Sweyn, seeming a bit mistrustful of the strange man, nodded. Slowly.
“Be welcome, then, as a guest here. We have food, I think?”
They did and a small, but real enough, plate was settled in front of the man. Anders had to scramble to make him seem to be eating. Remembering to make the food vanish, which he had no way to really do, so had to hide it, holding it in the air, inside of Followland the Bard. Then he wiped his hands carefully, as he finished his meal and drank some berry juice. That was harder to hold than the food was, being slippery.
Then, moving to stand near the hearth, which had no fire in it, that not being needed in the warm air of Modroc that night, the man took out his lute and strummed a rather complicated tune. On the second song, as everyone relaxed, he started to sing. It was a simple enough love ballad, during which he alternated looking into Sweyn, Duma Sett and Eltha’s eyes, then settled on Sondra, for the last half, flirting with her rather outrageously. Enough that a few of the men glared at him.
He moved to the gurdy, the music becoming more intense then, and a bit darker. It wasn’t a thing that was heard in any land, as far as Anders knew, but got attention, and wide eyes from everyone, as they clapped along with the performer.
At the end of ten different songs, a few of them having provoked dancing from various people, the blond man bowed.
“Thank you all for watching my humble act! Now, I should find my bed.” He moved, boldly, and took Sondra by the hand, as if she was supposed to go with him for that. The woman, being good that way, played along, instead of acting insulted by the idea.
Then, letting go, the man bowed... And vanished.
Everyone in the room froze. Except Anders, who had to scramble to move the food and drink. He used the plate for that, which was sitting on the table and the earthen drinking mug that had been provided for the musician.
It took nearly half a minute for anyone to respond with more than wide eyes or muttered comments asking if they were under attack. When that happened, it was Duma Sett.
“Incredible, Dumo Anders!” She actually clapped and stomped in a rather undignified, but clearly heartfelt fashion. After a moment, everyone getting the idea, they all did that. Even Erold.
When that settled
, a minute or so later, Eltha moved and gave him a hug.
“So, where did you learn to do that?”
He shrugged, allowing the woman to hold him, even if everyone was watching. It was, he had to figure, nice enough. Not meant to be too flirtatious, of course. She was an adult woman and he was... He nearly blinked but didn’t ask the date. Not yet.
“I learned it from Duma Sett, of course. In our practices. She demonstrated how very much I have yet to learn about her art. This was my first attempt at improving. There are things to work on, of course.”
The Duma nodded.
“Indeed. He should have had traveling companions, for instance. Perhaps other musicians? A pretty wife or female companion to glare at Sondra as he flirted with her as he did?”
She was jesting with him, but Anders could see that part of things. It would be hard to hold five or six people, each doing different things and all seeming equally real at one time, however.
“I... will need to work on that? Really, I should get you and Eltha to aid me in that?”
The women both rolled their eyes then.
Eltha seemed slightly annoyed.
“No? Do your own work, Anders. You can do it. If we took part, then everyone would think it was our efforts, propping you up. Now, if we did something truly large, or incredibly complicated, that might work? Not that this didn’t. You’d told me you were doing illusion and got me to forget. Me. It’s my profession and I honestly couldn’t tell that Followland wasn’t real. Still, you should work out the scene that Clarisse put forward, and do this again in a few days? With new music, as well, of course. I liked that part. You could just make the music and be popular here, I wager.”
Having nothing else to do, he nodded. It would be something to occupy his time, if nothing else.
“That sounds fun. I’ll work on that.”
After that, even if it was early, everyone turned in for the night. At least, they went to their separate rooms. Anders had his own space, so did his nightly bow work, pulling it three hundred times while envisioning aiming at a target and releasing smoothly in his mind, with each move, and then doing a review of all of his magical practices, before bed. It took a while to get through, and was a little boring, but he knew that not practicing wasn’t going to allow him to become better.
Then, since it really wasn’t too late, he contacted everyone he was supposed to, using magic. First he did the students. Alice Cook, Daren Willet and Jeld. Also, Master Tolan, since he needed to be kept up on such things as well, having been learning magician’s skills of late. The man was mastering that art as well, of course.
It was a thing that the old man kept acting surprised about that didn’t amaze Anders at all. The man was one of the greatest wizards in the world. Known on several continents for his work that way. To do that required powerful skills of the mind, which lent themselves to many types and styles of magical work. Probably other things as well, really. Anything that could benefit from focused control of thought.
Plus, unlike some of the others, like Jeld and Alice, Tolan actually spent part of each day in practice, even if there wasn’t a new lesson being delivered to him. Daren had taken to doing something similar, if at a slower, more relaxed, pace.
Gull, the guardsman, had to be included in the lessons, as an afterthought. Anders felt poorly about having left him out. Not that the man was brilliant when it came to such things. He wasn’t bad though and when reminded would practice gamely enough. He could see the use for things such as Wizardry, healing and combat magic and wasn’t afraid of it.
To him it was just another skill, to aid in battle. Like spear work, or learning to use a crossbow. A thing that didn’t come up, most days, but that might be helpful, down the line. It was, Anders had to think, about what he needed to expect from an average, rather middling, student that way. The truly low performers...
Well, he’d stopped bothering with them. They used a bit of magic to clean the rooms now, in the Ambassadors’ wing, but that was about all, for most of the servants who had bothered to try and learn any magic at all.
Then, wondering if he was going to be screamed at, he contacted Lissa and Salina. The reply that came back, from the older princess, was not pleased.
“We had to dig latrines today! By hand. Worse, we had to clear out the old one and cart the... leavings, away! I had to invent a new spell to heal blisters! I hate this. I bathed twice and I still smell.”
The words repeated, twenty times, which Anders took as the woman throwing a bit of a fit.
Lissa wasn’t a lot happier, but she only sent her message five times, which was the standard for such things, to give one time to write the words down.
“This really isn’t much fun. We were told it wouldn’t be. On the good side, this won’t be forever. Captain Entia takes over our instruction in a few days. That’s horse work. Feeding and cleaning the stables. Salina will love that part, I wager.”
He sent a different message back, to both of them, so they knew they weren’t alone. Then he got with the rest of the people he was supposed to. At least that he was required to be in touch with, to his own way of thinking.
Prince Alpert, his mother, Prince Naveed and of course, Depak Sona.
Only one of them bothered to reply. Probably because only one of them knew how to do that kind of thing. Yet, at least.
Depak’s voice hit his ears, as if the man was standing behind him.
“Anders. We have news about the death cult that pursues Naveed. A local branch of their order corrupted Lassa and perhaps some others here. We’re investigating. Naveed wasn’t the only target. Guard Tennet. More as soon as we have anything. Be careful. These people are dangerous.”
That played five times as well. Anders didn’t bother to write it down. He had the salient portion of it. He needed to protect Eltha from assassins. A thing that wouldn’t be simple or easy. At least it wouldn’t be, if he were going to not tell her about it. That would be foolish. She was a Great One and could, in theory, protect herself. At least as long as she knew that attack was possible. Oh, she needed to improve her skills in many ways, but even with only what she knew at that moment, it would be difficult to remove her from the playing field.
Unless someone in their midst had been corrupted, of course.
In that case, things could be very dangerous, indeed.
Feeling a bit low for doing it, Anders spent the rest of the night scouring the minds of his friends and travel companions. Some of them had secrets, but none of them intended harm to anyone else there. Doing that meant sleeping late and waking tired, of course. No one mentioned his drooping eyes in the morning, after he scrubbed up in cold water and ate some dried fruit and soft bread, before hitting the road.
Since Duma Sett was taking a turn at road construction that day, Anders got Eltha to ride near him and Erold, and then drilled on combat magics. Several different types, as well as turning invisible, using the trick he had for that. When the others could both do it, and hold that state for an hour, he finally explained.
“I had word from Depak last night. It seems that the assassins, the Blades of the Goddess, are after you, not just Naveed, Eltha. So far the rest of us seem clear that way.”
The woman pursed her lips then and made an annoyed sound.
“I’d wondered. That attack, in Istlan? They went for me, first. Then you, Anders, when you fought them off, but that never seemed correct, did it? Why go for me?”
Prince Erold cleared his throat.
“Because the portents say that you and Naveed marry and bring the two lands together in peace? Something that these people don’t want, at any rate. If it wasn’t something that you’d want, personally, you’d think that they’d just tell you, so you could avoid it. Not that we truly have an answer there. That’s my speculation on it, with what I know right this moment.”
That wasn’t any worse than what Anders had on the topic.
Which was nothing much, at the moment.
“So,
back to practicing then. We need to all be using wizard skills, constantly, from this point forward. No one with us is an enemy, that I can determine. Both of you need to double check that, of course.” He grinned then. “You know, if these people don’t want you to marry so badly, I oddly want to see it happen. That’s probably me just being contrary, but there you have it.”
Oddly enough, both Eltha and Erold nodded along with him, in agreement.
Chapter seventeen
Everything was fine until they got to the first city along their route. That part frankly shocked Anders, when he saw it in the distance. It was a place larger than anything else like it he had ever seen. There were buildings that seemed to reach well into the sky, like sticks tucked into the Earth, arrayed on a grid of streets. Each of those was busy with wagons, horses and strange tiny carriages, meant only to carry one or two people.
The roads were of hard stone, laid carefully and in good repair. The place had a tan look to it, with a riot of bright colors accenting it. For all of its massive size, and its people dressed in bright clothes, with fanciful designs, the place didn’t really smell that much. A bit of horse and the scent of cooking and smoke, but nothing too foul, really.
Sweyn waved at it, as they got out of the carriages or off their horses, near an inn. At least, Anders thought it was one of those. It had a fine-looking sign, that declared the place as The Grasslands. It stretched up into the sky in a grand spiral twist, nearly two hundred feet and had a covered area for the horses and carriages to move under, for unloading. Juniper was fine with that, but the other horses seemed worried about having something over their head like they suddenly were.
The trouble wasn’t the city, of course. It wasn’t even that the people there didn’t want him, a Prince of Barquea, to visit them. They heard the name and title when it had been given, and smiled, bobbing a bit in a way that wasn’t really a bow at all. Then, no one got that kind of thing, so Anders didn’t take it as being an insult.