Gwýnnett nodded. “And I’d best get started downriver,” she said. “Tell your observers I’ll have blue lamps set fore and aft on my courier boat.”
“I’ll pass the word,” said Túathal. “It shouldn’t take you more than four hours to get here. That will be well before dawn.”
“Perhaps I can make you breakfast in the morning?” said Gwýnnett.
“I think not,” said Túathal, ending the connection.
Chapter 44
Quintillius
“King Bjarni agrees, Governor-General,” said Felix. “But he has stipulations of his own.”
“Such as?” asked Quintillius. He was pacing back and forth along the map table in his command tent. Mafuta stood beside Felix as the younger wizard shared his report. Her glowing light spell made the tent much brighter than the lamps on the table.
“The contest must be held on his flagship.”
“I can live with that,” said Quintillius.
“And you can bring no more than five guards and three wizards.”
“Tell him I’ll only need two wizards.” Quin nodded at Felix and Mafuta.
Mafuta inclined her head, confirming she’d come along to visit the Bifurlanders. She knew she’d have her own part to play if, no when, Quintillius won.
The Governor-General consulted his guard captain.
“I need five guards to travel with me to the Bifurlander fleet,” said Quintillius. “Get me two of your tallest, plus two warriors from the Little People and Deena, in full kit.”
“Tonight?” asked the guard captain.
“Immediately,” said the governor-general. “The fate of the province may depend on it. Get moving!”
“Yes, Governor-General!”
The guard captain sprinted out of the command tent to find Deena and the others Quintillius had requested. Quintillius turned is attention back to Felix.
Mafuta laughed. “You’re bringing the small warriors to signal your disdain?” she asked.
“Not at all,” said Quintillius. “I want to shatter their expectations that everyone in Occidens Province is tall and carries gladius, pilum and scutum.”
“That explains the small warriors,” said Mafuta. “What about Deena?”
“She’s in love with the legends of the women warriors in the old Athican stories,” said Quintillius. “Her kit is impressive, and so is her physique. Bifurlander women like a good fight every bit as much as their men. I want them to see Deena, so they’ll know we Roma feel the same way.”
“And it’s hard to tell women from men in the legions because everyone is in armor,” contributed Felix. “Deena stands out.”
“She certainly does,” said Mafuta, remembering Deena’s exaggerated, anatomically-correct bronze breastplate.
“What form of competition did King Bjarni select?” he asked. “Shah-mat? Archery? Single combat with sword and shield?”
“No, Governor-General,” said Felix. “None of those.”
“What then?”
“Tell him,” said Mafuta. “It’s not wise to annoy a provincial governor.”
“Very well,” said Felix.
He took a deep breath and struggled to replace his grin with a stoic expression worthy of Marcus Aurelius. When he succeeded, he spoke.
“King Bjarni wants to arm-wrestle, Governor-General.”
Quintillius began to laugh. So did Mafuta. Soon Felix joined in. The three of them laughed for more than a minute before the chortles faded to guffaws and then to near-silent chuckles.
“He wants to arm-wrestle me to determine whether or not he and his fleet will help me defend Occidens Province?”
“I believe so,” said Felix. “He’s reputed to be quite good at it.”
“Arm-wrestling is more a game for soldiers working off their aggression than for rulers settling the merits of their proposals,” said Quintillius. He stretched his shoulders and flexed his biceps without realizing he was doing so.
Mafuta smiled. “King Bjarni thinks to put you at a disadvantage, Quin.” She raised an eyebrow, appraising him. “The Bifurlanders’ monarch may be underestimating you.”
“What makes you think that, ’Futa?” asked Quintillius.
Mafuta didn’t answer him and questioned Felix instead.
“Were you able to see King Bjarni when you delivered your message?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Felix. “I constructed far-seeing lenses, even though I kept my distance when my solidified-sound golden dragon landed before the king and queen’s thrones.”
“Excellent,” said Mafuta. “What did he look like?”
“The king?” asked Felix. “He was solid, an old warrior. With massive arms—probably from axe-work. He wore lots of gold rings from elbow to shoulder on both sides.”
“Old?” asked Quintillius.
“Close to forty, I think,” said Felix.
Mafuta and Quintillius flashed each other quick smiles. Mafuta’s student was not yet twenty and everyone over thirty must seem old to him.
“He must be positively ancient,” said Mafuta. “Perhaps he won’t be strong enough to defeat Quin.”
“King Bjarni seemed strong to me,” said Felix. “His arms were larger than my thighs.”
“That’s not saying much,” Mafuta teased. Felix was quite skinny and self-conscious about it. He shrugged.
“True enough,” said Felix. “But I had the sense he could snap me in half like a twig if he’d wanted to.”
“So King Bjarni is strong—for an old man,” said Mafuta, “but that’s not the most important question.”
“Which is?” asked Quintillius.
“Is he tall?” responded the older wizard.
“Oh,” said Felix. “Maybe.”
The others regarded him, waiting for more.
“He’s not as tall as I am. Probably close to six feet, if I remember correctly.”
“And you’re what, six and a half?” asked Quintillius, narrowing his eyes and taking the young wizard’s measure.
“Six-foot-six and a quarter,” said Felix with a grin.
“But who’s counting,” said Mafuta. “You may even have a bit more growing to do.”
“I’d like that,” said Felix.
“Why does it matter how tall King Bjarni is?” asked Quintillius. “Especially if his upper arms are massive.”
“Because of you, Quin,” said Mafuta. “You’re very tall.”
“You must be over seven feet,” said Felix.
“Seven-foot-one,” said Quintillius. “How is that relevant?”
“Arm-length correlates to height,” said Mafuta. “Your forearms will be quite a bit longer than King Bjarni’s.”
“So?” asked Quin.
“That may give you the advantage,” said Mafuta. “And you’re strong, at least for an old man.”
Quin wagged a finger at Mafuta and she grinned at him. They’d been through enough campaigns together for this sort of banter to be commonplace.
“All right,” said Quintillius. “I’m strong, but King Bjarni’s probably stronger. How does having longer forearms give me an advantage?”
“Simple, Imperial Governor-General, sir,” said Mafuta. “Leverage.”
Chapter 45
Eynon’s Idea
Eynon tapped tentatively on the door to the room just beyond his. He’d heard Doethan’s footsteps outside his own earlier, and then the squeak of the neighboring door.
“Doethan?” he asked softly. “Are you awake?”
“That’s not how it’s done,” said Merry, easing him to one side. She pounded on the door with the bottom of her fist. “Doethan! Wake up! There’s a hungry dragon at the gate!”
“What?” came Doethan’s groggy voice through the thick wood. “A dragon? Where?”
“Get up!” said Merry. “Eynon has an idea.”
Doethan cracked the door and peered out. “From what I hear, Eynon always has ideas,” he complained.
“Right,” said Merry. “But this is a
particularly good one, and we need your help. Get dressed and meet us in the common room.”
“Fine,” said Doethan, sounding both more perturbed and less asleep. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Make it five,” said Merry.
“Hrrumph,” said Doethan. He closed the door.
“Let’s see if Nûd and Fercha are still downstairs,” said Merry.
“That wasn’t very nice,” said Eynon.
“We don’t have time to waste being nice,” said Merry.
“My mother says there’s always time to be nice,” replied Eynon.
“Your mother never had to fight a battle to save the kingdom,” said Merry. She took Eynon’s hand and dragged him toward the stairs. “Come on!”
Eynon stood fast and Merry jerked back when she realized he wasn’t moving.
“What?” she asked.
“You don’t have to be obnoxious to get things done. Is that how your father leads his barony?”
“Uh, no,” said Merry. “He convinces people to do what’s necessary. He doesn’t yell at them.”
“I thought so,” said Eynon. “Leaders in the Coombe know how to be effective and nice, too, or we don’t let them lead.”
“Maybe I should spend some time in the Coombe when all this is over?” mused Merry.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Eynon.
It was dark in the hallway. Eynon invoked a light spell. “Llachar!” He used his free hand to wave the glowing sphere to follow them.
“I think I hear their voices,” said Merry.
“Walk softly,” said Eynon.
“I am walking softly,” said Merry in her normal speaking volume. “Oops,” she said. They turned the corner into the common room, with Eynon bumping into Merry’s back.
“I thought the two of you were otherwise occupied,” said Fercha.
Nûd, pacing near Fercha, stopped moving and grinned at Eynon. “This must be really important for you to stop what you were doing.”
“We were. It is,” said Merry. “Doethan’s coming down soon. When he’s here, Eynon will explain his idea. We’ll need your help to pull it off.”
“I’d be glad for the distraction,” said Nûd.
“What have the two of you been talking about?” asked Eynon.
“This and that,” said Fercha.
“Family stuff,” said Nûd.
“Fine, don’t tell us,” said Merry. “Fercha, what do you need to construct a wide gate, like the one you used to get the Roma legions here faster?”
“Two rectangles coated in powdered magestones, one on either side of the gate,” said Fercha. “Plus wizards at either end to invoke the congruency and keep it stable.”
“Can you get sacks of powdered magestones in Melyncárreg?” asked Merry.
“Damon would know if any are kept on hand,” said Nûd.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Eynon. “I know where to find plenty of tiny magestones we can crush.”
“Near the mudpots and the spring of many colors?” asked Nûd.
“Uh huh,” said Eynon. “I didn’t know what I was seeing when I went there to find my magestone, but now that I know how to recognize magestones, I remember seeing blue and green and yellow sparkling grains around several of the hot springs.”
“You can gather them up,” said Merry. “I expect Doethan and Fercha will know where to find more at the headquarters for the Conclave for this side of the gate.”
“Why do you want to construct a new wide gate?” asked Doethan from the foot of the stairs. He’d put on his wizard’s robes, but his hair was still tousled, at least what was left of it.
“Eynon will explain everything,” said Merry. She waved to Nûd and Doethan. “Sit down. I’ll get you some cider.”
She moved behind the bar and started filling five mugs.
“Please be ready to enclose us in a privacy sphere when I’m back,” said Merry.
“If I must,” said Fercha.
Merry saw Eynon give her a stern look from the kitchen.
“I’d really appreciate it, Fercha. Thank you so much,” she said.
Eynon smiled. “It would be a good idea to keep this private,” he said. “We don’t want word getting back to Tamloch. It would ruin the surprise.”
“Could you see if the cook has any more of that chicken-and-egg pie left?” asked Doethan. “If I’m going to be awake, I could use a snack.”
“I’ll see,” said Merry.
“I can help,” said Eynon. He stepped into the kitchen and searched for a pie safe. He found it and removed half of one of the savory pies and three-quarters of a loaf of dark bread that seemed fresh enough to have been baked that morning.
Chee swung down from the rafters and jumped from the bar to the pass-through to the kitchen. Eynon snagged one of last year’s apples from a bowl on the counter and tossed it to the raconette. He promised himself he’d find a way to thank the cook and innkeeper for their hospitality and remembered the small ball of solid gold in his pouch.
It’s too much for a few meals and night’s lodging, thought Eynon. Maybe I can collect some gold dust for them if I have time when I’m in Melyncárreg—or bring them some flathorn antlers? They’d look impressive over the fireplace and bring in business. I’ll have to ask Nûd if they shed.
“Eynon, dear, are you coming?” asked Merry. Her tone didn’t match her endearment.
“Is there pie?” added Doethan.
“Just a moment,” said Eynon. He caught Merry’s eye.
“Thanks for your help getting food for us,” Merry added, shrugging her shoulders and smiling.
Eynon smiled back. He picked up plates, a sharp knife, and a crock of butter—not from Flying Frog Farms, he realized—and brought everything to the table. Merry had already served the mugs of cider.
“Fercha?” asked Merry.
Seconds later, a privacy sphere surrounded them and things beyond it were difficult to see. Chee had joined the gathering just before the sphere snapped into place. He was eying the chicken-and-egg pie and Eynon wagged the knife in Chee’s direction.
“This is people food, Chee,” said Eynon. “Enjoy your apple.”
Chee made a face at Eynon and sprawled in the middle of the table, staring at the pie.
“Who wants pie and who wants bread?” asked Eynon.
“Here,” said Merry.
She took the knife and deftly cut the half-pie into five wedges and sliced off the same number of slices of the dark bread.
“Doesn’t anyone else have a sense of urgency?” she asked. “Take whatever you’d like, friends. Eynon, tell Nûd and Fercha and Doethan your plan.”
Eynon understood Merry’s concern and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes you had to push to get things done, and Merry was doing the pushing. Eynon gave Merry a brief hug, sat up straight, and explained.
“Nûd gave me the idea,” said Eynon. “He said we should have some sort of surprise of our own to counter Verro’s.”
The others nodded.
“I’d love to turn the tables on Verro,” said Fercha.
“I’d like to know how I can help,” said Doethan.
“I’d like to save soldiers’ and wizards’ lives,” said Nûd. “If we can end this war before anyone gets hurt, I’m all for it.”
“Tell them the details, please,” said Merry.
Eynon did.
The other wizards’ expressions were encouraging. Doethan was stroking his chin.
“I’ll handle the gate at this end,” he said.
“That would be great,” said Eynon. “You should be able to find wizards to help you…”
“…at the royal army’s encampment to the north, I know,” said Doethan. “After I return to the Conclave’s headquarters for powdered magestones.”
“Fercha will build the gate in Melyncárreg,” said Merry. “I’ll help her.” She put her arm around Eynon and gave him a hug. “You and Nûd can collect magestones to powder near the hot s
prings and mud pots, then round up the remaining component of our surprise with Rocky.”
“That should work,” said Fercha. She faced Nûd a few seats down across from her. “Does the old man keep rope in the castle?”
“There should be plenty,” said Nûd. “It’s something that’s always useful. I remember ordering more in our last shipment of supplies from Brendinas.”
“Great,” said Merry.
“How do we get Rocky back to Melyncárreg quickly,” asked Eynon. “It would take too long to fly to the Blue Spiral tower.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Fercha. Then she stopped herself from insulting Eynon further. “That’s right. You don’t know. There’s a large gate in the rear of the Dormant Dragon. I made it years ago. It connects to the storeroom next to the kitchen. We can use that to get to another inn back in the capital, then take the gate used to transport supplies to Melyncárreg from there. It’s just two jumps.”
“Let’s go,” said Merry. “We’ve only got a few hours and it’s harder to work in the dark. Wake up Rocky and bring him to the doors to the supply room,” she ordered Eynon. “You help him,” she told Nûd.
“I hear and obey,” Nûd replied with a smile.
“Right away,” said Eynon. “I hope Rocky cooperates.”
“I’m sure he will,” said Nûd. “He’s a good boy.”
“I’ll go upstairs and collect my things,” said Doethan. “Fercha can contact me.”
“Eynon may need to contact you, too,” said Merry. “Take your ring back, for now, so he can reach you.”
“Fine,” said Doethan. He took the ring from Merry, then stood up and tilted his head toward Fercha. She canceled the privacy sphere and the older wizard headed toward the stairs.
A few minutes later, Nûd, Fercha, Merry, Eynon, Chee and Rocky—under protest—went through the large gate in the inn’s storeroom. Rocky’s complaints when he had to tuck in his wings and cross the gate’s interface made Doethan smile a floor above.
When Doethan came downstairs, the innkeeper, her wife the cook, and their two children were in the common room.
“Your wyvern’s loud,” said one of the children.
“Will he be coming back?” asked the other. “I want to ride him.”
The Congruent Wizard (The Congruent Mage Series Book 2) Page 26