Back Under The Stairs - Book 2 in The Bandworld Series

by John Stockmyer

  Most days of meetings in this wood and gold and marble room, Platinia sat behind the Mage. To strengthen his thoughts and feelings when she sensed that was his wish. Today, she would listen to the men. Listen to their talk. Today, she would try to understand.

  The Mage was dressed in a silk robe. All white, striped with the gold of Stil-de-grain. Outside in the hall, there would be the Mage's guards. And Whar.

  Like when they were at the Claws, Whar guarded the Mage both day and night.

  Platinia did not like this Whar!

  From across the room there came a knock on the wide, grooved door.

  "Enter," said John-Lyon-Pfnaravin. He said this in a loud voice that went over the polished table, across the room, and through the door.

  The door was pushed open, the Head soldier, Nator, coming in.

  After that, other men came, too. Gagar, who, when no one else was there, would let her pet his birds. (Somehow, though he was a man, she was not afraid of Gagar. Was this because he seemed more like a bird than like a man??)

  Gagar's birds were big! Big for birds. In many colors, though most, here in Stil-de-grain, were yellow. When they were at the Claws, most of the talking birds were orange. All the yellow birds had glisteney, golden eyes and long, downturned beaks.

  Though she loved to pet the talking birds -- Gagar even let her feed them bits of fruit sometimes -- the birds never talked to her!

  When everyone was in the room and seated about the big, shiny wood table, the Mage spoke. "I want to know the people's reaction to the continued bombardment." (Platinia did not know this word ... bombardment.)

  There was much silence after that. Looking past the Mage, Platinia saw the men's faces. But could tell nothing of their thoughts. Nor could she see into their minds. There were too many in the room for her to do that.

  "Coluth?"

  "Now that your magic has protected the houses, the people are ... less afraid."

  "But still afraid."

  Silence.

  "I have heard the wish," said Nator, the Army Head, "that the Mage would use his power to protect the streets as well."

  "You can't put up a lightning rod on every corner ..." The Mage stopped suddenly, as he did sometimes when saying something no one understood. "Any Mage's magic has limitations. Installing the magical lightning rods on every home in Xanthin will have to do for now. What I want to know is, is there any sign of open rebellion against my ... that is ... against the king's rule? Is there sentiment for a capitulation to Auro so he'll stop hurling his magic against the capital?" Capitulation??

  "I do not think so, sir," said Nator. "No talk of surrender that I have heard." When saying that, the Head did not sound like he believed his words. At least, that was what Platinia thought.

  From the pause that followed, Platinia could tell that the Mage was also uncertain about the Army Head's answer.

  "On the other hand," the Mage continued, after a space of time to lean his elbows on the table; to rest his head in both his hands, "what you're inferring is that the folks in these parts wouldn't mind seeing a bit more magic from me, is that it?"

  There were slight smiles around the table and the shuffling of many feet.

  "As some of you know," John-Lyon-Pfnaravin nodded his head at Golden, "I've set up a lab in the palace."

  "Lab?" It was Gagar, who rarely spoke.

  "Workroom for magic," Explained John-Lyon-Pfnaravin. "For now, though, I've got to ask a question. It's always been my understanding that magic can only be worked in the daytime; only when it's light. That magic is a function of the light."

  "That is true," said Coluth, looking embarrassed at being asked such a simple thing. Though the Navy Head did not show his feelings, he and many others often wondered at the childish questions of the Mage.

  "Which leads me to ask how the dark Mage can blast us after down-light. I can see how -- if he's breaking loose from the magical restraints put on him after the Mage War -- he might be getting enough light-magic to hit us in the daytime. I think it's common knowledge that, for some time now, he's been able to reduce the magic of other bands by darkening their skies. So its reasonable to believe that he's been able to make his own sky less dark, getting his magic from a lighter sky overhead. But how he can hit us at night, I don't know."

  Shrugs around the table. First a simple question from the Mage, then a question that no one but the Mage himself could answer.

  Still, the Mage was right. What was most fearful was that the evil one could work his magic, even in the dark. No one could do that. Except the evil one!

  "As for how he's hitting us, I think I know. I think he's bouncing the magic off the sky dome."

  At this talk of magic, Platinia found herself shuddering. She was cold inside and out. She wished she had a warm, warm cat to hug and hug.

  "And what do the people think about these nighttime bombardments?" That word again.

  "There is no need to worry about the people, great Mage." Nator.

  "They love you as do we." Coluth.

  From the way John-Lyon-Pfnaravin sat up straight, from the way he held his head, Platinia knew the Mage was angry. As only the Mage could get angry. Quickly. Quietly. "The most dangerous kind of advice I could receive," the Mage began, his voice low but threatening, every word pointed to draw blood, "is not to be told the truth. I asked if there was popular discontent with my leadership and you tried to soft-peddle your answers. Even you, Coluth, my oldest friend among this group." Platinia could tell that the others were also shocked by this sudden change in the Mage's mood. "Sure, the people of Xanthin were grateful to me at first for devoting every craftsman and military man on the island to the making and putting up of lightning rods so that people's houses would be safe from this magical attack." Again, the solemn nods, everyone afraid to disagree with the Mage. "In the 'What have you done for me lately department,' I know that people are asking why I'm not retaliating in kind. I know that people are doubting my magic." John-Lyon-Pfnaravin settled back in his kingly chair. Still upset, he began to drum his fingers on the chair arms. "In addition to the dimming of the sky, I'm also aware that the wind has begun to blow. Just a breeze now, but growing perceptibly stronger day by day. A steady wind from the direction of the black band." The other men looked ... sick. Though no one wished to speak of it, they were afraid of the evil wind.

  The Mage stopped tapping to stare around the table. Even from behind him, Platinia felt the cold of his green eyes. "And you have the nerve to sit there and tell me that the people are all for me? That no one is thinking of surrender in the face of this magical pressure?"

  "There may be some who would trade freedom for peace, but not the army ..."

  "Today. But what about tomorrow?"

  Platinia could see nothing but long faces around the table. The Mage was saying out loud the worries of the others. "What we need," John-Lyon-Pfnaravin said, after a heavy pause, "is a spectacle to take the people's mind off their troubles." Spectacle?? "Something to give them confidence in their own Mage. And I plan to give it to them." When John-Lyon-Pfnaravin turned to the side to look at the men nearest to him, Platinia could see a smile grow on his lips. He was less angry now. "Once we got control of the island, I was able to contact the local alchemist that Golden told me about. It took awhile to explain to him just what chemicals I needed, but I think I've got the right ingredients at last. So, you can spread the word that, soon, I'll work some magic like nobody's seen."

  "In the day or ..." Nator started cautiously.

  "No. I mean after down-light."

  At that, the men mumbled to one another, approvingly.

  What would the Mage do? What could he do at night?

  "And another thing. You can alert the people that they can expect an important announcement on the morning following the spectacle. That the days of Stil-de-grain as punching bag are over!" Punching bag?

  Whatever "punching bag" might mean -- and in the Mage's fierce mood no one had the courage to ask -- Platinia
knew that John-Lyon-Pfnaravin was about to display his power. Seeing his magic at the battle of the White People -- helping him strengthen it and use it -- Platinia could only be afraid of what the Mage might do!

  * * * * *

  For many up-lights following the meeting, the Mage had Platinia sit in the hall outside the Mage's magic room, Platinia sitting on a chair, the Mage's guards standing nearby. Inside, the Mage waited, people coming to bring him ... things.

  Coluth, the Navy Head came. Then went away.

  Tschu, the alchemist, brought large boxes of secret ... things.

  After that, terrifying pops and bangs came from the room! Strange smells too, making even the guards afraid.

  Now, toward down-light, the Mage led Platinia and the guards down the hall and stairs and outside the palace. There in the courtyard, they found Coluth and a man driving a pony cart. After that, the Mage's party went through the palace's three walls and down the empty streets of Xanthin, toward the harbor.

  Behind the guards came the rattling cart, the Mage turning to shout instructions at every crossroad -- always that the pony driver must be careful.

  Though Platinia had not seen what was put in the cart, in was a big thing. Hidden under a large, heavy cloth. From the lumps under the canvas that the thing pushed up, it seemed to be ... a box of jars??

  As they walked along, it was strange to see, here and there, big holes where houses used to be. (There were also piles of sticks and plaster of what were once houses. The ... bones ... of houses that had not yet been carried off.)

  In the empty city, the guards tramped loudly. The pony cart behind them squeaked, the ponies clopping. Even Platinia's footsteps clicked on the roadway stones.

  As fog wisps gathered in the down-light air, the people they did meet were scurrying home. Those who still had homes.

  Recognizing the Mage guarded by his soldiers, the people -- dressed in the leather tunics of workers -- hurried to one side or to the other of the street, bowing and bowing respectfully to that man of terrible power. When Platinia turned to see where these people went after the Mage had passed, however, Platinia saw black looks directed at the Mage's back. Black looks from frightened faces.

  As usual, the Mage walked on with quick, long steps, looking neither at the people nor at the buildings. Past the chained up shops that, in the daytime, sold food. And drink. And clothing. And pans. And jewelry. And ... all other things.

  Here and there, they passed ruined shops that the evil Mage had struck down with his lightning, the boards and brick and stone of them still in great heaps.

  "You're sure that everyone's been informed?" the Mage asked suddenly, Platinia turning to the front again to listen.

  "Criers have been at work all day," the Navy Head said. "Everyone must know."

  "Good. And they'll all be watching the harbor?"

  "It is a certainty."

  Watching the harbor? Of course. To see the magic the Mage was going to make that down-light.

  Even with no one in the streets after dark, watching was possible, Platinia knew. With the city's buildings climbing the harbor hill, everyone in a higher house could see over the lower rows of houses. Knowing that no one would come out after down-light, the Mage had planned well, making it possible for everyone to see his night magic from their locked up homes.

  "They will be told tomorrow that I will go in person to Azare to fight the dark Mage?"

  "They will be told. By the criers."

  The Mage's party now entered the street that went along the water, the tie-up docks of the harbor just ahead. At the tie-up docks were boats.

  Out beyond the boats, already hard to see in the distance, great arms of land hugged a harbor in the sea.

  The Mage stopped. At the beginning of a dock. "You will wait here," John-Lyon-Pfnaravin said to the guards. Whar saluted, as did the guards, all together.

  "That's the ship, that's destined to be scrapped -- at the end of the quay?" the Mage asked, pointing at a small boat tied at the far end of the wooden dock, just barely to be seen through the thickening fog.

  "Yes."

  "All right," the Mage said.

  Turning, the Mage waved the pony driver forward, the four-wheeled cart squeaking past the guards, stopping. "Drive the cart out to the end of the mole. Carefully!"

  "Yes, sir," the man said, respectful but sad because the Mage had so little faith in him. Platinia could see this in the pony driver's mind.

  Suddenly, overhead, there was a light, a flashing, jagged line of evil magic, streaking down!

  Without thought, Platinia threw herself upon the street and covered her head with her hands as there came the crack of the jagged bolt striking somewhere in the city back of them. "That's all we need now," Platinia heard John-Lyon-Pfnaravin mutter as she sat up, then bent down to rub a raw spot on her knee that she got from falling down. "A lightning strike on the cart." As was common with the Mage, he was speaking only to himself.

  The Mage stepping aside, he motioned with his hand, the pony driver slapping the reins, the uneasy ponies swinging the cart around, prancing it from the road onto the splintered dock, the cart's wooden wheels rattling over the quay's planks as the driver pulled the reins this way and that to guide the ponies around coils of rope and stacks of barrels as the cart went down the dock between twin rows of empty boats tied to either side. Big boats. Little boats.

  Big boats were called ships.

  Walking quickly, the Mage followed the pony cart, Coluth marching after him. Having almost to run, Platinia came too.

  By this time, the fog had thickened so that, even from the dock, you could not see much water past the ships to either side. Certainly, you could no longer see the harbor arms. Grayness, like the fog, was settling in.

  The air smelled damp.

  Damp and lonely, like the sea.

  Out they went over the dock, moving around tall, rope and timber cranes, only the crane-tops showing above in the down-light mist.

  With Platinia's feet making hollow sounds on the splintered dock boards, they went all the way to the little boat at pier end.

  The boat was old and rotten. Even tied in quiet water, it leaned to one side.

  The Mage motioned to the pony driver to drive over the wide board that went from the dock to the deck of the boat, the pony man urging the ponies to pull the cart up and over onto the boat's rocking deck.

  The Mage did not go on the boat. "Unfasten the ponies," the Mage commanded, the driver climbing down, unhooking the team, the man leading the two ponies by their long, leather reins, clopping them back over the plank to the dock again.

  The ponies were tossing their shaggy heads and rolling their brown and white eyes. Their big, soft noses snorted in the fog.

  "How long to down-light?" the Mage asked the Navy Head, the Mage looking up at the faded yellow sky.

  "Soon."

  "And you're sure the people of the city are watching?"

  "They will want to witness for themselves, the power of their Mage." Coluth nodded at his own wisdom.

  "The kind of curiosity that killed the cat, I suppose." Though Platinia did not know the Mage's meaning, she did not like this talk of killing cats!

  Without warning, there was another white, many-forked streak, first rising up from far, far away at sea, climbing to the very sky top, then slanting down, growing bigger as it came!

  As Platinia fell to the dock, shutting her eyes and covering her ears, there was a crashing noise somewhere not too far away.

  "He's bouncing them off the sky dome, all right," the Mage muttered to himself.

  The Mage never spoke to Platinia. Sometimes he did, when no one else was near. But never when others were with the Mage. It was as if he could not see her when others were about. Sometimes, this made her ... sad.

  The Mage looked at the sky again, his white face all that could be seen in the thickening shadows. Even his green-glowing Mage eyes could be seen no longer.

  The rolling night-fog hid their le
gs.

  "It's like waiting for the sun to set so you can see the fireworks on the fourth."

  "I do not understand ..." said the Navy Head. Like much of what the Mage said, Platinia also did not understand.

  "Never mind."

  Again, John-Lyon-Pfnaravin looked up. "Another minute should about do it."

  He turned to Coluth. "I want you off the dock. Now."

  Platinia was not surprised that the Mage said that. The Mage did not want people around him in the dark. The Mage never spoke to anyone after dark.

  "But sir, you will be alone, here. What if some animal of the night should ..."

  "Just do as I say. What I've got planned could be a little dangerous. It could blow. That's why I wanted an old boat to put it on. A boat I could shove out into the water after I lit the fuse. I don't quite know what's going to happen, myself. So I want you and Platinia and the ponies off the dock. You can wait for me with the guards. On the other side of the mole." The Navy Head hesitated, frowning. "Now!"

  With that sharp command, before Platinia knew it, Coluth had caught her hand and turned her around.

  Then they were flying down the dock, Coluth pulling her along, Platinia's short legs stumbling to catch up. In front of them, the pony man was running, too, the pony leads in his hand, the ponies hard feet clicking and clacking on the dock boards.

  They ran so fast that, in only a little while, dodging fog draped boxes and bales and loading carts and cranes -- they were off the dock and onto the clouded, round-stone road. There, Platinia did not see the Navy Head stop. Ran into him because of that.

  Safe with the guards at last, down-light full upon them, the guards with torches, the fog rising, they turned and waited.

  Waited ....

  Waited ....

  There was a roar of light and sound! In the sky! At the end of the dock! Colors! Colored lights in the sky! Shooting up from the dock like great flaming birds flying up from trees! Never had Platinia seen such a thing! Never had she feared so much!

  Giant sparks and roaring sounds were climbing high, making down-light into day.