Essence of Chaos

by Marie Andreas

  A note in the mage’s flowing script lay on top of the book. It said to study the two spells on the open page carefully. Jenna whistled when she lifted the note off the page. The two were Journeyman level defense and attack spells, both far above anything he’d ever given her before. She toyed with trying to see what lay on the other pages but didn’t want to push her luck. Knowing Ghortin, he’d only spelled this page for her touch.

  With a sigh, Jenna curled up on the armchair next to the desk, called up a practice beacon, and began working on the spells. She became so engrossed in the intricate spell work that she didn’t notice the passage of time until Ghortin tentatively knocked on the semi-open door.

  “Ah, excellent. All afternoon long, and you’ve stuck with it.”

  Jenna turned. “These weren’t like the other spells you’ve taught me. They seem almost alive. Are the rest in here like that?”

  “If you’re a good lass, in ten or twenty years you might be ready to find out.” He came over and closed the book, ending the discussion about it.

  Jenna got up stiffly. She hadn’t budged during her practice, as she was now finding out. After a few quick stretches, she followed Ghortin through the sitting room and into his bedchamber.

  “Was it Jesop?” She had been able to push the horrible event out of her mind for a while, but Ghortin’s arrival brought it back.

  He laid the book on his bed and turned around slowly. “Yes, I’m afraid you were correct on the identity of the boy.” A long muscle on the side of his jaw twitched spasmodically.

  “We don’t know why, or who was responsible. Although Edgar feels that the followers of Qhazborh are behind it. He’s seen some strange things in the outlands in the past year. But there’s nothing to be done until after tonight.” He looked up at her, and Jenna could see he was forcing a smile.

  “Which reminds me, we have a formal royal event to be attending.” He shook his head as he eyed her wrinkled clothing. “Now, you can’t go in that.”

  “Should this ball be happening? I mean, someone planted a demon thing here and killed that poor boy; is a party a sensible thing to be having right now?” It felt wrong. This wasn’t a time for gaiety, although she knew the ball itself masked deeper talks.

  Ghortin hugged her tightly and then stepped back. “This hasn’t been a peaceful trip for you, and I’m afraid it is going to get worse before it gets better. However, sometimes an important part of winning the battle is not letting the enemy know what you know. It lets them make a false step.”

  “So you’re hoping that our knowing about the boy, but them not knowing we know, will weigh things in our favor?” She didn’t feel like that was a good bet. So far, whoever the enemy was had been playing all the winning pieces.

  Ghortin shrugged. “It might. It may not be enough, but if we cancel this now, they, whoever they are, will know we are aware of something. Besides, the ballroom is warded heavily; it would take a far stronger mage than myself to get in there uninvited.” He pulled himself up proudly. “And there are few mages who could call themselves my equal, let alone my better.”

  Jenna studied his face for a moment, and then smiled. She couldn’t forget what had happened to the boy, but maybe they had stopped a bigger plot and would be able to make the murderer show himself soon. “Understood.” She held out her arms. “I do hope you brought me something to wear, unless a mage apprentice is a suitable costume?”

  “And if I didn’t? What would you do? Magic yourself something?” He tapped his chin, studying her for a moment. “That might be a good practice exercise actually. But no.” He shook his head and some of the tension left his face this time. “I mean, what if you botched it somewhere, and the whole thing disappeared in the middle of the ball? Think of my reputation.”

  Jenna folded her arms. “Ha, ha. Your reputation indeed. My costume?”

  “You simply don’t appreciate the uniqueness of my reputation, my dear.” Ghortin turned away and rummaged through his wardrobe. Without warning, he tossed a small bundle of what looked like feathers at her.

  Jenna caught it suspiciously. “Is this all of it?”

  “Yes, that’s all of it.” Ghortin turned with a sigh. “Trust me, you’re a little thing; you don’t need much material. Your mask is on the table in the sitting room. Now, scoot.”

  Jenna took her bundle off to her room. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she finally figured out how all the pieces went. He had been right; it covered everything, but only if you got it assembled right.

  She studied her results in the mirror carefully.

  Long black and purple feathers clung down her body, covering all that needed to be covered. Her long black hair was pulled up with an elegant silver tie with dangling tiny purple feathers. Delicate black slippers and an elaborate lavender mask completed the ensemble. She had to admit the results weren’t half bad. As she turned, she noticed that small glimmer stones dotted all of the feathers, giving the whole thing a magical air.

  Ghortin beamed proudly when she came back into the main chambers.

  “Ah. I knew the Koye bird outfit would suit you.” He spun around, showing her his brown and gold owl ensemble. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his similarity to an owl.

  Jenna clapped appreciatively and took his arm.

  “Come, my lady, we shall be the envy of all.” Ghortin led her to the door and down the hall.

  Other costumed guests drifted around them in the long corridor. Jenna noticed that fabulous bird and animal costumes seemed to be the most common. Ghortin let a few couples pass as they drew nearer to the ballroom.

  Jenna halted at the arched entrance and gawked. It couldn’t be helped, the hall was simply magnificent.

  It was also huge. A football field would fit, with room to spare, within the rose marble walls.

  Light from a thousand spiral glow holders caused silver veins in the walls to wink and sparkle. Halfway across the hall was a large, black marble dancing area. Scattered around were long, ornate, red-oak tables with delicate filigree chairs.

  Flower garlands were strung everywhere and graced the beams of a series of spidery overhead walkways. The ceiling itself was some five or six stories up. But halfway between it and the festive floor hung slim paths lit by muted glows. There were few people up there at present, but Jenna was certain that would change before too long.

  The guests outshone the hall if that was possible. Hundreds of brightly dressed, and in many cases under-dressed, people milled under the magical lights.

  As she and Ghortin entered the hall, Jenna was pleased to notice more than a few admiring glances. After being stuck out in the woods with Ghortin all these months, it was nice to know men still found her attractive.

  “Truly spectacular, is it not?”

  Jenna jumped at Ghortin’s comment. She’d almost forgotten he was there. As it was, all she could do was nod. And try to keep her jaw from dropping.

  “One thing kelars are extremely good at is creating beauty. Takes my breath away every time I come here.” He froze. “There is that wretched Taffin. I’ve got a few bones to pick with that one.” He patted her bare arm gently.

  “Now you stay right here, I won’t be but an instant.” Without waiting for her reply, the feather-clad mage was off stalking his prey.

  Jenna sighed and tried to keep out of the way. Looking around, it was obvious that some people were already well on their way to becoming joyously drunk. That, combined with the outrageous costumes, gave her quite a people watching opportunity.

  One dandy caught her eye almost immediately. Unlike most everyone else there, he wasn’t wearing festive colors. Long, lean, muscular legs were clad in white leather. A snug white tunic with golden lacing and a full white shirt topped it. Around his broad shoulders hung a shimmering short white cape. A thin golden dress sword completed the picture. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see his face because his elaborate all white bird mask completely covered his head, trailing down to mid-back.

>   As she watched, a beautiful bead-clad woman came and possessively took hold of his arm.

  Jenna watched them go. That one was definitely taken. She was re-immersing herself in people watching when Ghortin reappeared at her elbow.

  “Drat that man.” The mage adjusted his mask. “He’s always wiggling out of our discussions.”

  Jenna was grateful that her mask covered most of her smile. What Ghortin called discussion, other people would call a knockdown, drag out, verbal war.

  The mage was elaborating on his latest victim’s shortcomings when a clear horn rang throughout the hall. Within seconds, silence had fallen over the chamber as heads turned toward a long platform near Jenna and Ghortin.

  Ghortin nodded at Jenna’s unspoken question. “Our gracious hosts, the royal family. Don’t fret, my dear; most of them detest official pomp. Their introduction, and the ball’s commencement, won’t last long.”

  Jenna nodded with growing excitement. She’d never seen royalty in person before. Certainly never non-human royalty. Luckily, Ghortin had made her stay in this spot; she now had a perfect view of the entire platform area.

  The silvery horn sounded again and two small kelar children, obviously twins, came from a walled-off chamber, down a broad ramp, and onto the platform. They halted in perfect unison at the front of the dais as a crier announced them.

  “Their Highnesses Princess Saysa and Prince Whealt.”

  The twins parted, moving gracefully to the outermost chairs on opposite sides of the platform. They turned to face the crowd as they reached their seats. They were absolutely adorable children, both with long, thick blond hair and clear green eyes. They looked no more than five years old, however they showed no discomfort at the cheering crowd. Both were dressed in simple outfits of light blue and green.

  A willowy adolescent girl was the next down the ramp. Like the guests, she was clad in a gaily colored feather costume. Like her brother and sister before her, she wore no mask.

  “Her royal Highness, Princess Lilltkin.”

  Jenna cheered with the rest of the crowd as the red haired girl took her seat next to her sister.

  The next person down the ramp paused before coming completely out. He seemed to be arguing with someone in the room beyond.

  Jenna smiled at what she could see. At least she had good, if extremely unattainable, taste. The next royal was the white-clad dandy she’d spotted earlier.

  Her smile fled, her hand tightening cruelly on Ghortin’s arm, when the white-clad figure finally continued down to the platform without his mask.

  “His royal Highness, Prince Corin.”

  Who also happened to be Storm. The normally relaxed kelar was moving stiffly, his usually mobile face frozen in a tight frown. Nonetheless, it was Storm.

  Jenna squeezed Ghortin’s arm still tighter as she watched her friend, now a complete stranger, take his place on the platform.

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She hissed loud enough for the wincing mage to hear.

  He peeled her fingers out of his skin before answering. “I didn’t want to step into this. Storm said he would decide when to tell you—before this preferably—so I kept quiet.”

  Jenna was pissed. How could he do this? Her now unclenched fingers were itching to draw kelar blood. Almost everything about this world still unnerved her, but her friendship with Storm had gone a long way to make it bearable. Now she realized it was all a lie. He was a lie.

  Gritting her teeth, she managed to keep from bolting as the rest of the royal family was introduced.

  After Storm was Prince Justlantin. He was quite a bit shorter than his younger brother, but had the same rich brown hair, although he kept his neatly trimmed to the top of his shoulders. His large slanted eyes matched his hair, and the silver circlet on his head was slightly thicker than Storm’s.

  The next in the royal line differed greatly from her siblings. Most noticeably in dress. Kaytine, as she was announced, without royal title, was a delicate cleric garbed in the light green robes of the goddess Irissanta. No royal crown or band lay atop her silvery-gold hair, but she exuded a serenity that Jenna was more envious of than any crown.

  As Kaytine took her seat, Jenna let her eyes slide over to Storm. Sitting between his brothers, he was stiffly keeping his eyes straight ahead, looking completely miserable. Jenna felt a twitch of happiness; he deserved it.

  The pause was a bit longer before the announcement of the heir. Prince Resstlin was an imposing man, easily topping Storm in height, and outweighing him by a good sixty pounds, maybe more. Like Justlantin, his dark hair was cut shoulder length. The muscular man nodded to the crowd before taking his seat.

  Two matching trumpeters stepped forward to announce the arrival of the king and queen.

  King Daylin was an older version of the heir. His dark, almost black hair was beginning to turn gray. His piercing blue eyes were similar to Storm’s, but the king and heir were both quite a bit thicker in build than her friend.

  Queen Areania was a willowy woman with long masses of thick red hair. Her deep brown eyes reminded Jenna of a protective doe.

  “The royal family of Traanafaeren.”

  As hurt and upset as Jenna was by Storm’s duplicity, she couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of the crowd. She was cheering for everyone up there except Prince Corin.

  “My good people.” The king spoke amid the cheering. The crowd silenced immediately.

  “I want to thank you for coming; may this be the best T’garen in our history. Let the festival begin.” He held both hands above his head as the crowd roared in approval, then began to disperse and mingle through the hall.

  Two dozen or so court hangers-on flanked the edge of the platform waiting to bend a royal ear, or just be seen with one. A heavily armed derawri woman loudly announced that the two youngest royals would be retiring to their rooms.

  Jenna stood by sullenly as she watched a crowd form around Storm. Prince Corin, she corrected to herself. The name sounded odd, but it seemed to fit. Probably because it’s his real name, her mind answered back.

  Ghortin stood back, Jenna could feel him watching carefully. “I told Storm all along that he was making a monumental mistake in keeping this from you. But he wouldn’t listen. I know he meant no harm.”

  “Meant no harm? For crying out loud, Ghortin, he’s a different damn person. Everything he’s said or done for the last four months was a lie.”

  Looking around the growing, curious crowd, Ghortin led Jenna toward an emptier portion of the large hall. She let him lead her. If she was going to yell, she’d rather not have it happen in front of the royal platform. She was so upset and annoyed that she wasn’t sure she could control what she said.

  “Now, my dear. I’ll admit that he wasn’t completely honest. But believe me; his Storm persona is quite real. More real in his mind than his royal one as Prince Corin. Now you can’t tell me that you’ve told Storm everything about your past, back in your world?” He gave her a nudge. “Including those things you’re not so proud of?”

  Jenna’s mind flashed on some of her less than brilliant moments. Like her short and doomed marriage. Three weeks of hell that she wouldn’t share with anyone. But that was different from lying about who you are. Very different.

  “I’m not letting you box me in on this one. This is not the same thing at all, and you know it. He’s royalty, damn it.”

  She stopped as an awful thought hit her. “The market. That low down, slimy sneak. He must have had a grand time sporting me around the marketplace today. What did he do, command everyone to ignore him while he was with the stupid little apprentice?”

  “Oh, now this is getting quite out of control.” Ghortin took his most intimidating stance, arms folded tightly and legs spread. Jenna didn’t lessen her glare in the slightest.

  “First, let me say once again that I felt that our young friend was in error. Secondly, I assure you, he did not have the marketplace folk play games on you. Most likely most of
them didn’t have the foggiest clue as to his identity. People expect royals to always dress and act like royals. They don’t look for a prince to be out shopping dressed like a common hunter. Thirdly, just because a situation seems like it should be ideal, that doesn’t mean that it is.”

  The mage relaxed his stance and shook his head sadly. “That lad is miserable in court. Couldn’t you see it on his face? He loves his family, but he doesn’t want this life. He doesn’t fit in.” Ghortin’s face softened. “Are you sure that some of that anger isn’t directed at his female companion?” He nodded back toward the dais where the bead-clad woman had reattached herself to Storm’s side.

  Jenna felt the flush crawling up her face. “Are you saying I’m jealous? That woman could be the mother of his five children for all I care. I don’t like being lied to.” She twirled around and stomped off in the opposite direction.

  She heard Ghortin follow but he stayed out of striking range.

  Jenna was so furious—at Storm, Ghortin, herself, and this asinine world—that she failed to pay attention to where she was going. Or to any obstacles too slow to get out of her way.

  “What in the—?” Jenna’s victim managed to get out before they ended in a tangled heap on the floor. Jenna herself was too stunned to say anything.

  She struggled to free herself from the garishly clad arms of the kelar man she had bowled over.

  “I’m so sorry.” Jenna felt her face growing warm under her mask. Great impression at her first formal function.

  She tried to help her victim up, but he ended up doing most of the pulling.

  “Glad to see you ran into each other.”

  Jenna winced as Ghortin’s voice boomed behind her.

  She and her victim were standing now, and the kelar was removing his mask. That accomplished, he bowed over her hand with a sweep and kissed it.

  “Keanin Plantarie, royal companion, at your humble service my lady.”

  Jenna stood there, staring at the shockingly handsome face before her. Long, pronounced cheekbones introduced his sardonic, yet sensual mouth. A tumble of wavy auburn hair had managed to fall rakishly across one tawny gold eye. Even in a race of beautiful people, this man stood well above the norm.