by P. S. Power
Sondra nodded.
“Well, it’s hard to find a good man, so I was thinking that I’d take this one?”
The blonde seeming of a woman stomped away, her feet making loud clomping noises on the stone of the stage.
Esmerelda snorted and shook her head.
“I think not! I know, I have a song for women like you...”
That, played by everyone perfectly, was a dressed up take on a popular tune from Istlan. The Farmer’s Goat. It highly implied that Sondra wasn’t a woman at all, but might, possibly, be livestock. That or was pretending to be at least, to trick them all.
It was done on the fly, and had to be done carefully, but the audience, the whole of the room, gasped when the song ended and Sondra, the pretty woman who had come up on stage, was gone, leaving a white and brown goat, in her dress, in her place.
The woman had, rather cleverly, walked off stage, with only a little bit of magical pushing by Anders. Then, since goats were goats, it ran off into the audience, bumping people and trying to get away, as the next song started. A musical piece with a driving beat, on the gurdy and lute, as two of the other performers, Greg and Lewit, played pipes that sounded ethereal and strange.
There were other gags, and more interactions with the audience, which meant Anders having to look at them, to make that happen. He didn’t let the shock of a filled room cause him to drop things, thankfully. Instead, he added some fancier lighting to the whole thing, in different colors, and had Followland waving his hands to make flowers rise from the arms of the various seats, at the end. The redolent perfume that came from the blossoms, and faint golden glow that came from his fingers was impressive. When people started to touch the stems and flowers, the room erupted in excitement.
That much contact nearly drove Anders into unconsciousness, since it was being done over too large an area, too suddenly, for him to take. He held on, had the golden-haired man on the stage call out, as the flowers vanished into black smoke. That smelled of a wood fire, but only gently.
“Thank you all, for watching our humble display here tonight! Sondra, if you’d join us for the bow?” The woman had hidden herself behind the curtain, watching from the wings, but did join the man on the stage, standing next to his make-believe wife and fellow troop mates.
Then Followland, bowing in the Istlan fashion, even if he was supposed to be from Yanse, spoke again.
“Thanks to you all again. I am Followland Hearth, this is Esmerelda Hearth, Greg Holstead, Lewit George and Franz Mestis. And we, are of course...” The man paused, and vanished. Leaving only Sondra on the stage. Then the voice of Followland spoke, as if in the ear of every single person there. At least the ones in the first five rows of seats. It was an effect that would, hopefully, carry past that, but Anders wasn’t certain of that at all. “Not real.”
Then the lights, all of them, in the whole place, went out, and Anders moved out to the stage, gasping and using his wizard’s skill, to take Sondra by the hand and pull her away. When the lights came back, they were hidden, a bit clumsily, behind the red curtain.
The audience was silent, with only some gasps, as if they didn’t know what the trick to the whole thing was. Some of them did, at least. Then there was standing, and a racket that seemed almost frightening, when it came. It didn’t stop, for several minutes, not until Duma Sett took the stage, calling out, her voice amplified to hit even the back of the room, without speaking.
“More! Again!” This came from several places, followed by other calls. “We love you, Clarisse!”
“Ah! I love all of you, as well! This wasn’t my work tonight. I would like to introduce to you all Prince Anders Brolly! Man of the North! Anders?”
She gestured to him, and for a moment, he wondered if he should hide, or at least change his clothing. Not that he had time to do that. He was in plain brown, and while the cut was nice enough, it was hardly the shining glory that Clarisse was wearing.
Then he shrugged. After all, being too plain made a statement of its own that bright colors and expensive raiment wouldn’t.
So he moved out, and bowed, using first courtly, with his left hand out front of himself, arm bent slightly, fingers spread just enough. His front knee bent. Instead of mocking his simple clothing choice, the room roared at him again, as if it hadn’t been a simple practice session, to entertain his friends.
Then, there were several thousand people in the room with them, and most of those weren’t people he knew at all.
Clarisse took his hand, bowed with him, and then gently, led him off the stage, to the same side that held Sondra. Both women gave him a quick hug then.
“Well! The players setting up will have to work to match that! Your timing was good though, and it seems humble, taking the first spot, to get the audience ready for the more seasoned performers. I didn’t know you had anything planned? We should have had criers out. Not that this isn’t a nicely filled house. People heard the music, from outside and stopped in.”
He half expected a scolding, which, Farad understood as did Anders, was probably justified. He hadn’t meant to actually do more than a small thing for some of the others, and by taking liberties, not checking with the theater first, in his mild upset at his treatment, he’d made several mistakes.
Instead of being sent back to his room, even politely, he was taken to the audience itself, and settled near the front, to the side, next to Duma Sett, her husband, Prince Erold and Princess Sweyn. The other performers weren’t ready just yet, which appeared to be normal. People got up, to purchase fried nuts and wooden cups of ale. He knew that, since a man carrying a box came by and offered such to them. He didn’t have any coin on him and the ale didn’t smell very good, but the man handed him a piece of parchment, folded to carry the warmed, salted, nuts.
He was dressed in the loose red wrapped garments of the workers there, with red and tan swirled face paint. The pattern wasn’t that bright, but had been rather delicately done, instead. You could still tell the man was attractive. Probably an entertainer himself, on other nights.
“That was amazing, Dumo! I was impressed simply from the music and antics of Followland Hearth and his friends... Then to find they were illusion like that... I won’t be forgetting this any time soon. Are you staying on here for a while? We weren’t told about that...”
Kaidan Sett cleared his throat.
“I’m afraid this was one night only. A special showing for the lucky few who happened by. Prince Anders was invited from his homeland, in far off Istlan, by the Sulat himself. We must travel to meet him, directly, as you might imagine.”
The man with the box nodded, and seemed slightly sad. It was too large of a thing. Too dramatic to be real. Anders watched him, a fixed smile on his lips. Ready to fight, if the man pulled a knife or started to attack in a more magical fashion. He even checked the roasted nuts. Those were, it turned out...
Fine. So was the man. He was over acting though, since that was, it seemed, his habit in life.
“Oh? That’s too bad! Still, you should come back if you get a chance? You should speak to our manager here. She’ll want to make arrangements.”
Anders ducked his head, not speaking, since it clearly wasn’t his place to do that sort of thing there. Kaidan, rather than one of the others, did that for him.
“We will see, of course? Any engagements will, as you might imagine, be limited. Perhaps a smaller showing, later, for selected clientele?”
He nodded at the words, even as several of the others, Sondra, Eltha and Duma Sett, all frowned.
“That would allow me to do a more engaging show. This one was... Fine, I guess. I need to practice the more immersive ones as well.” He glanced at Clarisse, who smiled at him then.
“True. We also need to keep things smaller than this, so that we aren’t beheaded for allowing a dignitary from afar to be used as a simple entertainer. We probably should have stopped you, or barred the doors to the room, when people started to arrive. It was too good not to
share.”
Princess Sweyn, her front neatly swollen with child, and face slightly round compared to normal, grinned at the words.
“Father won’t have a problem with this, I don’t think. I agree though, we need to not do this too often. Smaller things, for that practice, only. We don’t want it to seem as if we invited you only for your magic, Anders.” She grinned at the man with the nuts, who handed some to her, as well as a wooden cup of ale. She took both.
Anders checked her portions for poison or tampering as well. There was nothing there, but the ale was obviously sour and foul seeming. He could smell that, from where he sat.
Then the Princess went on. Speaking loudly, to the whole room.
“We’re attempting to entreat Prince Anders to come and live here, as you might imagine. We’ve offered wives, lands and riches. Barquea has as well. Istlan has gifted him with his own grand college to run, teaching magic. We need to best that, somehow.”
Several others in the audience looked over at the words, as if they were even possibly real. One man, who looked strong and polite, nodded.
“That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Even the Devica seemed to have liked the show!” The man pointed and there were, once pointed out, several green and red glowing beings near the ceiling, toward the back of the room.
Anders, not thinking about it, waved to them, which got the whole collection to come forward. One of them, when it closed a bit, was familiar to him.
“Jonpries! How are you? Come to see the show?”
The deep voice that replied was happy sounding, at least.
“Indeed, friend Anders. These others are Wopat and Hollan. They used to live in these lands, before they passed, some time back. Shaman of their type. This is Anders Brolly, Erold Caldas, Sweyn Caldas and Eltha Tennet. I’m not certain who the others are?” The large glowing red blob sounded diffident and polite, at least.
Anders waved.
“Clarisse Sett, the Illusionist and her husband, Kaidan Sett. This man is... I’m sorry, I haven’t been given your name yet? Is it all right for us to know that?”
The man with the swirled face and box of food, nodded.
“Lethe. Just the one name.” His voice shook, more than a bit, and everyone else in the room acted as if the Devica being there was frightening, even if they were, clearly, being very polite and just taking in the show.
The others ignored the obvious fear, or at least pretended not to be feeling something similar for themselves. Anders got that one. The first time he’d met one of that sort, a giant glowing energy being, it tried to fry him, with large gouts of fire.
It would be like meeting a human for the first time and having them trying to stab you with a knife. It wasn’t a great way to set the tone, but the truth was that not all people tried to murder you, even if some might. The same was obviously true of the energy beings.
They weren’t evil, as a group. They were, as strange as they looked, simply different types of people. There was a shifting, behind the curtains, with people peeking out, looking at the glowing beings. That or glaring at Anders, for having gotten in the way of their show for the night. That second one was even fair, so he stood up and gestured to the side.
“Not to be pushy, but we should probably get to our seats, so that the show can start? I fear I already threw the evening off...”
Jonpries laughed.
“I liked your music, little friend. Yes, we should move to the side and hide ourselves, so that no one fears our presence. This is not the worst land for such things, but it isn’t Ferlith, either.”
Anders thought he got that point, having been to that far off place, which was very much run in a way that was friendly to all people, regardless of what they looked like. Red, green, blue or even human looking, like he was.
Erold had been there as well, but he didn’t nod, probably not really understanding the ancient version of Modroc that Jonpries was using. Still, he smiled and waved to the energy people, as they moved away, Princess Sweyn doing the same thing, as the others smiled. Well, Kaidan didn’t, but he focused on the stage, so seemed engaged, instead of afraid.
The show then was fine, really. It was a play, and there was music involved, in what he had to figure was the traditional Modroc fashion for such things. It was a bit atonal and high pitched in places, which Anders didn’t love, if he was going to be honest about it. Some of the parts were nice and complicated sounding, but it wasn’t going to be his new favorite thing, he decided. Even if he used some of it in his own work, eventually.
The whole show was committed to memory, and he applauded at the end, but no one stood, to show special appreciation. When they retired, or tried to, Anders was rushed by at least twenty individuals. That caught him off guard, though he understood the basic idea. At least he thought he did. The first woman who got to him, who seemed to be about the same age that Eltha was, squealed as she approached.
“I want to have your babies!” Then, apparently meaning it, she started to try and take his clothing off, so they could get started on the process. Standing in the theater, in front of hundreds of people.
She thankfully, was pulled back. By another woman, who wanted to take her place in his bed, as it turned out. Anders was hugged, kissed, and was fondled between the legs enough that he both started to respond and nearly passed out from the attention, out of embarrassment.
“Ah...”
It was Sweyn who rescued him. Very cleverly, in fact. Her right hand went up, as if waving.
“Friend Jonpries! Wopat! Hollan! This way!” She didn’t even ask them to do anything, just called to them. The two green and one red being, the last being larger by nearly double, in raw size, moved in, which got the crowd to pull back, almost instantly.
It spoke of dark treatment for their kind, but also was really helpful, in the moment.
Anders waved as well.
“Come with us? I’m just heading back to my room. In the other portion of the building here. We should talk, if you all have the time?”
One of them, who Anders thought was Wopat, having a dark blotch on one side that Hollan didn’t, moved forward. His voice was higher in pitch than Jonpries, but he certainly sounded like an adult male.
“That would be welcome? We, Hollan and myself, were sent to watch you in your travels and report. By Shaman Smidt. He works for your father, Princess.”
Smiling, Anders nodded.
“Ah, spies... Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. Tisk, tisk, you two. Come this way? We can go over any messages that we need to send, if you’re headed that way anyway? If you want to bother with that, I mean. We need to set up that show for you Jonpries. Something a bit... Better than what I did here?”
He meant it, but everyone else was acting strangely, as they moved down the adjoining walkway, under the high dome they stood in. Sweyn chattered with the beings though, rather politely.
“You work with Warid Smidt? I know him. He lives at the palace, I... Have we met? I was always schooled to not bother the Devica, when I saw them, so forgive me for the lack in recalling that.” She tightened her face, seeming upset at the idea.
The other green person moved forward then.
The voice was very womanly, which was the first time Anders had noticed that sort of thing on one of the energy beings.
“I used to watch you, in your nursery and as a child, as one of your secret guard. In Istlan, as well, though I was careful that way, not wanting to frighten the people there. I left when I saw Followgrath being trapped in a fowl there, by the evil magician, Eta.”
Anders cleared his throat.
“That wasn’t really evil. Depak is a nice enough man, though not used to your kind of person yet. We let Followgrath go already, as a report on that situation? It was a... Well, he had been trying to murder me, when he was caught, so things were a little tense that way. We managed to discuss the matter and repair that. His friend, who he was riding in, had asked for help. Just, his assigned task was killing me, so..
. You get the idea?”
There was silence for a moment, then a soft feminine laugh.
“I’d missed much of that, I think! Everything there was in a different language, so it made it harder to understand. You speak Modroc well.”
That started a conversation that Anders found fairly interesting. It was, in the main, a take on the Istlan palace from the view of a person who didn’t exactly understand everything that was going on. Anders, for his part, simply wondered why Hollan hadn’t been taught to speak the language there. For that matter, why Jonpries didn’t have more modern languages already.
Their kind were capable of learning, after all. At least Anders had been told that.
Chapter nineteen
Anders wasn’t hunted for days after that night or anything like that. As soon as they moved down the road, which was busier now than it had been, closer to the border, their entire group was more or less invisible. People noticed them, and waved in passing, but no one came for them. Not until they were just outside the capital of Billeth. Then, because it was pretty much required in his life, they were set upon.
By masked attackers.
The twenty or so men and women did not fare well, of course.
Anders shifted in space efficiently, flowing from one move to the next, pushing people back, making the red and gold masks explode and destroying all their knives and scimitars with a single spell. They tried to run away. That didn’t work either. Not because of anything Anders did. No, Prince Erold worked with Princess Sweyn and Eltha to take the remaining people from their feet, hanging them upside down, so all the blood rushed to their heads.
This took place on a very busy road, and no one came to help them, at first. Not until four men in blue, with head wraps that had large polished stones in the front and white feathers sticking out, padded into place, some moments later. Others, the normal people, stood back, watching, some hundred feet away. There were many of them, in the area and they seemed worried, but also curious, mainly due to the people who were floating around.