The Silent Blade

by P. S. Power

  Eltha, being a kind soul, looked at everyone else there and shrugged.

  “This is Kaidan Sett. He used to be married to Clarisse. It isn’t our business. Other than you assaulting a Prince of a different land. Istlan, Barquea, and Yanse, in fact. That’s not good. You aren’t injured, are you, Anders?”

  She pretended to fawn over him, clearly showing that she wasn’t taking the new man, Kaidan, that seriously.

  Which was good enough, since Clarisse was arguing with him, rather firmly.

  “No, I heard what you said. That you didn’t need me and that I was holding you back and you wanted me gone. I didn’t mistake your meaning. The vows were broken and by you. I won’t be coming back. Not even to help you make coin. Now, I suggest you leave, or I’ll show you some of the new magic that I’ve learned, while I was away?” She seemed cold then.

  The man laughed.

  “You’re a bit old to be learning new things, aren’t you? What could you learn in that cold northland, anyway? How to make a fire, so you don’t freeze in the night? More illusions?”

  The man flew backwards, rather hard enough that his feet left the ground. The wall, thankfully, wasn’t too far away, so he didn’t build up a lot of speed before striking it. The Duma stood there, her eyes bright and palm out, holding him in place with the move.

  A thing Anders had never even considered doing, himself. It was working rather well.

  The man gasped.

  “We... could... add this to the act?”

  Those words had the fellow dropped, rather suddenly. He was breathing hard, but didn’t try to strike anyone over his humbling. Indeed, he acted rather as if it was just a normal discussion, more than anything else. It was a bit obnoxious, Anders had to think.

  “So, you really have learned some new things? Amazing. What else can you do? Did Eltha learn anything like that, do you think? You’re the big draw, Clarisse, but her more adult shows were missed as well. We could have you show some tricks like this, while nude, perhaps?”

  It was interesting, but no one acted as if that was an insult, not even Eltha. She seemed mildly amused, actually.

  Anders cleared his throat.

  “I’m sorry, but if we’re going to be out of this, we should probably allow these people to see themselves to another room? Or this one, but then I have no place to go.”

  Eltha nodded.

  “Good point, Prince Anders. We should all leave. Let them stay here? That way, if they argue for too long, we can come and break them up. We can sit in my room?”

  Kaidan Sett smiled then.

  “Ah, are you close friends, then? A young prince... Naughty of you, given the age of the boy, but he is exotic, with that hair and those gemlike eyes. Is that why you didn’t want me to hire him away? You fear that your apprentice would lose her... friend?”

  Eltha pulled Anders away, acting as if he was going to kill the man for saying such rude and unkind things. Only, the fellow, for all he seemed strange, wasn’t being mean about it. He honestly sounded as if he simply meant what he was suggesting.

  They walked up that stair, with everyone else heading to their own rooms. Eltha was in with Sondra, several rooms upward. That meant he was tucked into the space with the two women, shortly enough. Sondra was inside, standing there, looking ready to fight, clutching a large, but sharp looking, blade. Not well, or aggressively, but she’d armed herself and it seemed like a thing that was meant for the purpose of ending anyone who wanted to abuse her.

  She nodded, on seeing Anders.

  “What happened?”

  Eltha went first, growling.

  “Kaidan Sett burst into Anders room, and was lightly thrashed, since Anders has no reason to know who he is. He was lucky, really. You only used a stick on him, instead of making him explode or setting him on fire.” It wasn’t a question, but was, at the same time. “How did you know not to do that?”

  He grinned.

  “I’d been practicing fighting with it, so simply did that, when he rushed into the room. It was too much, even doing that but how was I supposed to know? I didn’t even know that Duma Sett had ever had a husband. It makes sense, I suppose, but...”

  Sondra started nodding, letting her pretty head bob for a bit, then giving him a rueful smile.

  “Kaidan Sett is famous, of course. An entertainer. Song, dance and plays. He has a large traveling troupe. Clarisse was part of that, his biggest act. Eltha, you were in that, weren’t you?”

  There was a smile and a nod.

  “For six years. I... Kaidan is right. He didn’t really divorce Clarisse. They’d been arguing and he yelled at her to leave him alone, but that was all. I was there. His other wives were as well. Clarisse is his third wife, and she never loved being that far down the line that way. I was her apprentice so left with her. She was asked to guard Princess Sweyn in Istlan about two weeks after that, so, things weren’t really well settled when we got on the ship.”

  She shrugged.

  “Well, even if they get back together, I have to think that I won’t be going back on tour, personally.”

  Anders nodded, though Sondra seemed concerned with the idea.

  “You won’t? Why? Did they beat you or...”

  Anders shrugged.

  “She’s getting married? Her husband has that whole Prince and Heir thing, instead of owning a traveling show, so I can’t see that one being easy to maintain, either.”

  The spy, who wasn’t stupid, but who clearly played at it, fairly often, went wide eyed.

  “Oh! I’d forgotten about that. Prince Naveed seems like a nice man. Handsome and well spoken. Rich too, which isn’t too bad. I should get a rich husband.” She didn’t so much as glance at Anders, even if he half expected her to.

  Which, after a moment, he realized wasn’t about the reason he thought at first. She wasn’t looking at him, or fake flirting, because she actually was hinting at him that way. As in, suggesting that they get married, or at least that she was available.

  Eltha snapped her fingers.

  “Ooohhh. That’s correct, Anders has been promised up to five wives, if he moves here. Though, I think he gets that if he moves to Barquea, as well? You liked it there well enough, Sondra? You’d be second wife in either place, behind a princess, but that’s not too bad. Or, I suppose you could go back to Istlan with him? In that case you’d have him to yourself.”

  Anders nearly blushed, and started to stammer, since the memories of Farad wanted him to do that. Instead, he took a breath and dropped into a light trance.

  “I don’t know that I’ll be moving to another land. Technically there’s no reason not to, except that I have a school to run, and have some plans for that.”

  Eltha made a face then and let her head play side to side.

  “You know, if you don’t mind some travel, I bet you’d be allowed to set up schools in all three lands? Really, if you present it correctly, it would be seen as a gift in at least two of them. Hard, getting from place to place for a time. Not too bad though, if you can get them placed at various ports? Then use magic to speed the trips? I know that I appreciated the way that was done on our journey, myself.”

  Sondra clapped her hands.

  “What a good idea. If you don’t want to simply move here, that is. Nothing against Istlan or Barquea, but Modroc has a wonderful array of cities and a social scene that neither of those places seems to have at all. Even if you just want to live here, you could probably find a sponsor, or patron. Or, well, you’re rather wealthy already. You could just buy some land and put up your own home. Do you want children?”

  He hadn’t really thought about that before, to be honest.

  “I suppose? I haven’t really... I mean, I’m thirteen. Or... What day is it?”

  Eltha had to go to her wooden calendar, which was kept in her large leather travel bag. The small thing had a set of pegs in it, one hole for each day of the year. It was arcane looking, but seemed to work, well enough.

  “The fi
rst day of Summer is in three days.”

  He nodded then.

  “So, fourteen, in three days. I’ve never thought about having a family, or, to be honest, a wife, much less five of them. That sounds... Daunting, to tell the truth.”

  Sondra winked at him.

  “You’re just a bit bed shy. We can fix that for you, when you’re ready? Even if you don’t want to marry me. Not that you shouldn’t want that. I’m wonderful, after all.” That came along with a chuckle, but Eltha simply sighed and looked away. Not speaking until the topic changed, a few moments later.

  Chapter eighteen

  Kaidan Sett, as it turned out, managed to be humorous, charming and not nearly as threatening as his initial rush had made him seem to Anders. He had a chance to work that out over the next few days, as the man traveled with them to Billeth, since, as he put it, that was only proper. Given that his wife was with them and had a mandate from the Sulat that required her to report in, now that Princess Sweyn was back in the land.

  For all that the cities in Modroc were grand and impressive to look upon, as well as extremely large, compared to anything that Anders had even heard of in either of his lives, the roads were still in need of repair in places. They weren’t horrible, over all, often being made of stone or even of the same type of compacted soil that Erold and Eltha were working in as they moved along. That previous work was old though, and large ruts had been driven into the path.

  Some of those were over two feet deep in places, making tracks that, at times, barely allowed the wagons to be able to pass, even though the road was dry and flat. Where they traveled, things were better for their having passed. Duma Sett hadn’t taken a turn doing any of the work, as of yet, probably hiding that she could from Kaidan, for some reason.

  Even if it was fairly clear that the man had, by some means that was part tradition and partially raw charisma, won her over by the end of the third day. At least they were holding each other frequently and speaking softly, instead of yelling or arguing by the time they got into the next large city. That one was no larger really, than the first place had been, though, instead of spires that scraped the sky, and their inn placing them many hundreds of feet over everyone else for the night, the building they ended up in was a vast dome.

  One that had a rather pretty blue and gold coloration, on the outside. It was similar to some of the structures in Barquea, though larger by far, than anything like it that Anders had witnessed there. It was, almost, as if the Modroc were trying to show their importance by erecting grand monuments to themselves. They certainly weren’t making best use of all the interior space they had. Not in the one building, at least.

  This particular place was mainly a theater inside, with the back half of it devoted to rooms for sleeping and the entertainers’ comforts. He thought that was the case, at any rate. It had staff, but he, as well as Prince Erold, were given only the smallest of consideration there, as if they couldn’t possibly be important at all. Thankfully Sweyn wanted her husband with her. Even the other Modroc men were treated in a very reduced fashion. As if, even if they traveled with Princess Sweyn, their part in things was humble and likely as servants to other, more important, people.

  The men and women there, who marked themselves by wearing similar, rather flowing, bright red outfits, and gaudy face paints in exotic swirled designs, did manage to act as if Sweyn was important, at least. In fact, they rather fawned over her, presenting her with treats, presents and offers to massage her feet and perform other delicate tasks that seemed too intimate for the public to be hearing about.

  His room, the one given to him, was private, but small. Even compared to the one that Anders had back in Istlan. It was simple as well. The building didn’t have pipes inside, or at least not for the likes of him to use, it turned out. That was fine, being he was traveling. The other spaces were larger, for some reason. The one that Sweyn and Erold shared was actually nice, having a good and sturdy bed, large mirrors hung as decorations and pillows and strange furnishings all over the place. The tan stone of the floor was smooth and the walls were painted in geometric patterns that looked festive.

  He didn’t bother complaining. They were there for the night and truly, he didn’t need more than a bed, for himself. Even that wasn’t particularly necessary. The small pallet he was given was hard and rough, being filled, it turned out, with straw. He did remake that, into a more suitable, magical design. The fibers of the plants that had been inside the rough textured cloth became soft fluff, sturdy single strands that were like silk to the touch, but made small, interwoven, springs. Contained in a casing that was now smooth, like satin, and shining, in several bright colors. The blankets and frame were reworked as well. Just because he was bored, since there didn’t seem to a be a lot on offer to see or do in that particular location.

  They ate early and the food, while edible, was actually scorned by several of the men traveling with them. Indeed, for the first time, several of them groused and complained about the treatment.

  “I’m a craftsmaster! They actually put me in a low servant’s room. They have other spaces, as well. Then they feed us on day old bread and half molding fruit spread? This is a direct insult to the Sulat!”

  The man, an older fellow, had eaten Anders cooking, more than once, and not said more than to give thanks for it. True, that was, in general, better than the leavings they’d been given, but it was strange for anyone to mention it.

  Another of the men, sighed.

  “More, it’s that these people are so stuck on their own arts that they can’t see anyone else as being important at all. We should complain to the management here. Not that it will do anything. They see their own world, that of entertainment and fame. Nothing else. To them we are servants or people even more useless than that, so they go out of their way to show it. We should have stayed in a hostel, instead of here. I blame Sett for that.” There was a soft growl, at the name.

  He didn’t seem to mean Duma Sett, either.

  Anders smiled, and shrugged.

  “You think he’s trying to impress his wife?”

  Conrath snorted, the older man, his gray beard well-trimmed and outfit presented in a clean and tidy fashion, since traveling or not, Anders had seen to that himself, every day or two, nodded.

  “Most like. Not that I blame him. Clarisse Sett made his fortune, talented as he is. Losing her, even for a year, had to have hurt him that way. So he comes here, to a public entertainment house. To remind her of the joys her own celebrity had brought them, in times past.”

  That was the general agreement. Anders simply shrugged.

  “Oh? Well, they don’t seem to have a show going on right now. I was thinking we’d have Master Followland Hearth and his troupe in for the night? To use the stage here. I need to practice anyway. It probably won’t be as grand as what they normally do, but I have some new music I wish to try out, that I’ve been working on as we traveled.”

  When he hadn’t been searching the world for threats or drilling with Eltha and Erold on combat skills from horseback. That or communicating with other people. It probably annoyed many of them, but the students who were far off still had him speaking in their ears, giving instruction and encouragement for their own practices, regularly. Not every day, since that would simply be too much to bear, for anyone.

  Enough that he didn’t doubt several of them would be pleased when the silence came after his words.

  Most of that, he knew, was due to the boredom of traveling. So, he’d dreamed and planned entertainments, given that seemed to be what he was allowed, for the moment. Even that wasn’t truly open for public consumption.

  The men cheered a bit, on hearing that they were to be allowed to do something that evening, other than sitting in their tiny, rather plain cells. Given that the large stage, which was a grand thing of stone, with cloth curtains of a fine red cloth that could be moved using a clever system of wheels and ropes, was empty, Anders didn’t ask permission to use it at all.


  That was, no doubt, high handed of him. None of the men spoke of it being an insult to their hosts, however. That didn’t mean it wasn’t, but the lack of good treatment was starting to feel a little pointed. Having him sleep in a barn, when all one had empty was a barn, simply made sense. Only a fool would remark on it at all, other than to give heartfelt thanks.

  Having him sleep in a tiny room with a straw filled pallet, when they had several larger, empty spaces, not a hundred feet away, seemed to be saying something. The others from Modroc were taking it that way, as well. Making it more or less an actual thing to be aware of.

  So, after their humble, rather moldy, meal, Followland and his four friends walked out from behind the curtains. They did this to some fanfare, with lights coming at them, to place the focus of their show on them. Anders had to move into a trance, dropping his awareness of most of the world, for a time. He heard some rustling and soft rubbing sounds from the people in the audience, but wasn’t able to think anything of it, in his effort to make a whole team of musicians play for them.

  He truly was focusing on the music, which was loud enough to fill the entire space. Esmerelda, Followland’s pretty, but jealous, wife, danced and played the drums for the songs. Followland sang, as did one of the other men, the tunes fast and rhythmic, having well thought out and decent rhymes, which hadn’t been easy for Anders to come up with, being in Modroc.

  The language fit the songs though, in a way that Istland or Yansian simply wouldn’t have. Between the songs, the performers spoke to the men in the audience, and with each other, playing and going on about what they’d been getting up to, in a rather interesting fashion. It wasn’t until Sondra came up on the stage, since he’d been describing her, or rather Esmerelda had been, that he realized more people had joined them. He didn’t turn to look, adapting instead.

  Esmerelda, crossing her arms, called out.

  “There! That’s the one... Always poking around when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I know what you want, missy!” The voice, which had started smooth and friendly, was overdone and shrewish, in a way that spoke of humor. At least to Anders.