by Guy Antibes
Trak chanced a quick look at Sirul to make sure he hadn’t taken a more serious wound, and then joined Tembul as the Toryan furiously fought with his opponents.
Blocking a thrust from the rear by one of the women, Trak disarmed her and stabbed her thigh before he helped Tembul take care of the man. He and Tembul withdrew to Sirul. As Trak surveyed the camp, he saw the still form of Mori on the ground in the darkness at the rear of her wagon.
Trak ran to her and checked to see if she still lived. Her breathing was shallow and Trak saw the slice in her stomach. He quickly found a waterskin, ripping the clothing around the wound and washing it in order to see it better. The slash didn’t go too deep, but she would quickly bleed out if nothing was done.
Looking around to see if anyone noticed him, he stood and posed, and then said the power word that would seal her wound. She looked up, wide-eyed, and faintly spoke the word, “Magic.” Trak didn’t care at this point.
Another merchant had glanced his way, with firelight reflecting from his wide eyes. “A magician is among us,” he called out.
Trak ran into the forest and came out around on the other side of the camp, hoping that the merchant hadn’t recognized him. He walked over to Mori with false casualness and feigned finding her wounded.
“What has happened?” he said.
“You know what happened,” Mori said, her voice still faint from pain.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Trak said. His acting didn’t even sound genuine to his own ears.
Tembul slipped up beside him. “What have you done?” he whispered in Trak’s ear.
“I saved a friend. How is Sirul?”
“He needs a bit of sewing, but he’ll survive.”
~
“You said you were familiar with being stupid, didn’t you?” Mori said. She looked around the camp, plenty of people were still cleaning things up after the battle with the bandits. “You should have kept your damned magic to yourself, fool.”
“But…”
“I saw you clearly when you saved my life, and so did another, who is not so tolerant.”
Trak looked forlornly at his bound hands and feet. Benninese knew how to properly truss up a magician. Tembul and Sirul joined him sitting with their backs to each other.
Mori backed away as three other merchants walked up to them. “You’ll be given over to the authorities in Peskoa,” the merchant who had hired them said. “You’ll serve Bennin in the mines,” he said. “None of you magicians have ever escaped.” The men spit on the ground. It seemed like a ceremony of some sort.
“So much for a good deed,” Tembul said. “Would you do it again, if given the chance?”
Trak nodded his head. “I’d do it for you and Sirul and Mori again, if I could.”
“You condemned us all,” Sirul said. “Now we have failed in our quest.”
“No, we haven’t,” Trak said. “Not yet. We’ll get our chance if we wait, watch, and act at the right time.”
Mori snorted. “Wrong time. Now you go to a place where Bennin warehouses its unauthorized magicians until they die. I never much cared for the rule that only high-born could practice.” She rubbed her tummy. “Now I know why I felt that way. Don’t get your hopes up, but somehow I feel that if anyone can get out of that place, you can, Trak Bluntwithe. Good luck. If you ever run into a big man with the ridiculous name of Jojo, tell him hello.”
She winked, and then slowly climbed up on her wagon and followed half the wagons out of the clearing. Trak watched her go, trying to figure out what level of stupidity he had just achieved.
He turned as four guards lifted them up and onto the back of another wagon. They nearly lay on top of each other, as whoever owned the wagon just shoved his goods forward a bit, leaving a too-small space for the three men.
“Maybe we should have let the bandits kill us,” Sirul said. Trak could feel the sorrow in his voice.
Trak didn’t think so, but it was certainly strange that of the twenty or so bandits that nine of them had been dedicated to killing the three of them.
“Could this be Lenis’s doing?” he said.
Tembul said, “I wouldn’t put it past him.” Trak couldn’t see him, but he wasn’t as depressed as Sirul seemed to be.
Trak stayed silent, contemplating his dubious future as the leagues passed.
~~~
Chapter Four
~
BALBAAM LOOKED MUCH THE SAME as Valanna had left it. Lots of domes, spires, and towers poked up over the city, contributing to a haphazard look. Each capital had its own unique flavor. Bitrium had its plain gray towers. Espozia exploded with energy. Pestledown, on the other hand, had few charms other than its size and the hustle and bustle of its large port.
Valanna never really liked the look of Balbaam, although she grew up close to the city. Being close to the desert, it always struck her as a dry place, but the waters of the Pusuun River made Balbaam as green or greener than any of the others. Nothing quite matched the quiet beauty of the garden at the Dalistro mansion. She wished she could have shared that garden with Trak. He had undoubtedly been there before, enjoying the old trees and the new flowers, but they had never had the chance to talk about it.
She sighed and looked out the carriage window at the stucco buildings, topped by a sea of red tiles, while Trak rode on a sea of blue white-capped waves. Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? Guilt? Valanna shook her head, but she still couldn’t rid herself of Trak’s image during their final confrontation.
“We are nearly to the palace,” Asem said. “Prepare yourselves. I do not expect a warm welcome.” The pavement changed from smooth brick to the clatter of rounded cobblestones as they approached the palace gates.
A guard poked his head into the carriage. “Business with the King?”
“I am Prince Asem Ferezan to see my cousin. Let us move on.” Asem had assumed a cold, commanding demeanor. He shook his orders out at the guard, with the royal seal of the Ferezan King plainly showing.
The guard withdrew for a moment and left them waiting in the middle of the entrance.
“Waiting is not good,” Kulara said as she adjusted the drape of her silk skirts.
“No.” Asem plucked at the beard on his chin. “I imagine we will not be particularly happy where we spend the evening.”
They had all discussed the various reactions possible on their return from Cokasan, the continent where they had just fought in a civil war. King Marom had not approved fighting in Santasia’s civil war, and Asem expected a punishment. Asem had told them that he wouldn’t be reinstated to his previous position, but he did not expect the worse case, a hasty death for them all.
Valanna didn’t believe that would happen, not with the intelligence that Asem brought back with him. Asem also didn’t know if they would suffer their fates together or separately. She could tell Asem had worried all the way from Amorim to Balbaam. Kulara remained uncharacteristically silent for long stretches of their journey as well, content to hold Asem’s hand. As for her, Valanna was happy that the trip had ended, and now she had the opportunity to come to terms with whatever would happen.
A uniformed man climbed into the carriage and sat next to Valanna, facing Asem and Kulara. “Prince Asem.” He nodded. “You are instructed to occupy the tower formerly used by Prince Nez, along with your second wife and Valanna Almond. He gave the two women curt bows with his head.
“Well, that means a form of house arrest, Captain Mizor?”
Mizor cleared his throat. He seemed a decade younger than Asem, maybe Misson Dalistro’s age. “It does, in fact. You will stay there at least until the King decides how best to re-employ your services to the Crown.”
Asem smiled and leaned over, clapping Mizor on the shoulder. “House arrest is better than rotting in a dungeon, eh? If Marom said the word re-employ, there is hope,” he said, his spirits lifting somewhat.
“Or a grave,” Mizor said. “But since the King gave you Nez’s tower, t
hat indicates that your confinement will be lined with silk.”
“I’ve spent more time than I liked in that tower already, but accompanied by two such charming ornaments,” he nodded to Kulara and Valanna, “I can still assist my King.”
“You can,” Mizor said.
Valanna looked over at Kulara and saw her cheeks redden a bit when Asem called them ornaments. She knew Asem’s second wife would never think of herself as an ornament, and the vision of being an ornament is what had depressed Valanna on the day she had her disastrous meeting with Trak, but she suspected that Asem was needling Kulara, more of their game-playing.
The carriage rode around to the east side of the palace and deposited them at the base of Prince Nez’s tower. Asem might know a better name for their new home, since Valanna didn’t. The Captain jumped out and held the door open for Asem, who preceded Kulara and then Valanna. He ran ahead of them to lead the three new residents up the steps to a modest entrance.
“You know the Prince never publicly used this door,” Asem said. “He told me that making such a small entrance was excessively demeaning. It didn’t stop him from using it to make his way to the brothels of Balbaam in the middle of the night, however.”
Captain Mizor nodded. “And it isn’t too demeaning for you?”
“For a prisoner in my cousin’s palace?” Asem just shook his head and walked through.
Valanna had been through the door before, and she hadn’t looked forward to her meeting with the Prince. She didn’t need to worry about that anymore; however, she did have new worries to consider. The future seemed to be an uncertain one for her and for Asem and Kulara. She wondered how her fate connected with the couple.
Patience. She had schooled herself to exercise it before, and she would have to do the same now. The rules abruptly changed once they had landed in Warish, but that didn’t mean that Valanna had no ability to play her part in whatever game King Marom would suggest. Suddenly, the fears began to fade a bit, replaced by the prospect of calculations that were yet to be made.
Valanna still possessed weapons that few did. Kulara’s powers paled compared to hers, and both of them knew how to fly out of Balbaam should the game spiral out of their ability to compete. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
~
Her new rooms were familiar since Valanna had used them for the briefest of moments before she fled Balbaam along with Asem and Kulara for Colcan. They were as nice as any she had ever used, even in Misson Dalistro’s mansion, but she didn’t like the small floors making up the tower. Everything seemed too close.
Even under house arrest, servants bustled around the tower. She now had a full-time maid to cater to her wants, but Valanna had few wants. Her time in the fields of Santasia had driven any excessive material desires from her.
Valanna took the time to examine her new rooms and sought out a secure place to leave Trak’s portfolio. Her brief time examining his work had surprised her. Trak knew many more poses than she did and, since he gave her hints on determining power words, the portfolio was the most valuable object that she owned. She found a space behind the headboard of her bed where she carefully deposited the book.
She paced the too-short corridors of the tower and found a guard who gave her directions to the tower’s library and was shown to the room. She paused as she entered. Asem stood with his back to her, flipping through the pages of a book.
“I am sorry to intrude,” she said.
Asem waved his hand, but didn’t turn around. “Have you developed a dislike of me, Valanna? We haven’t had a talk since we arrived at the palace.” He turned around and smiled. “Sit. We have much to discuss. I have just come from King Marom, and the terms of my ‘imprisonment’ are now known. Don’t worry about an execution, at least not immediately." He laughed, but Valanna noticed his eyes were not exactly filled with mirth. He again invited her to sit down.
She took one of two reading chairs between a small table in the center of the room.
“I have been given an interesting assignment. My network of Pestlan spies has been compromised in my absence due to incompetence and double-dealing. I have been tasked to evaluate the damage.”
“Why is that interesting?” Valanna said.
“I must do it without leaving the tower. Indeed, I can visit the King, but no one else. Kulara has chosen to be by my side during my incarceration, but you, Valanna, have no such restriction. Will you help me investigate our intelligence apparatus in Pestle?”
“I thought you had succeeded in weakening Pestlan objections to Warish?” she said.
“The general strategy has succeeded, but King Harl has purposely damaged our more covert information-gathering efforts and may be seeking to thwart our end game. Your friend, Podor Feely, has been a naughty boy.”
Asem made a circular motion with his hands, encouraging Valanna to speak more.
So, their comments were being monitored. That was why Asem’s speech and mannerisms were so unnatural.
She looked around briefly. “Podor Feely is an odious man. I don’t know why you ever trusted him. Is Timor Saddlebag working with him?”
Asem brightened a bit. “That’s what I want you to find out. Are you willing to go back to Pestledown and find out what is really happening?”
“They must know I’m a magician. Won’t the King have me executed? If not, I wouldn’t mind visiting Pestledown again.”
Asem nodded. “You will carry documents from King Marom that will prevent that, and I will have a duplicate set sent to an agent you will contact once you arrive in Pestledown.”
“Who?”
Asem waved a finger at her. “Not for you to know at this point.” He put his hand to an ear, briefly. What had happened while they were gone? Did the King lack so much trust in his cousin, or could there be factions ready to split Warish like had happened in Santasia? She couldn’t ask Asem in this room, but she had to know before she would attempt a mission that might be more dangerous than staying put.
“I will think on it, Prince.” Valanna smiled. She had never used his royal honorific before, and that made Asem genuinely smile.
“You do that. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let me introduce you to this library. Nez rarely set foot in this room, but I did, and I had a hand in choosing the volumes he invariably refused to read. It might have done him some good.” He sighed.
Valanna hated the thought of Prince Nez and didn’t mind if the books hadn’t provided any benefit to the terrible man-boy.
~
Early the next morning, Asem stopped Valanna in a corridor and dismissed the maid that trailed behind her. “Read this and then destroy it,” he said quietly, handing her a few pages of paper. “The scope of your investigation is rather larger than I let on in the library, but I couldn’t chance speaking in a room where I installed secret stations to listen. Not that I needed to with Nez. The King has more confidence in me than I expected, but the situation is grave. We will not speak of it until you have examined those documents. Do not leave them unattended in your rooms, and definitely don’t show them to your maid. Trust no one but Kulara and me." He cleared his throat. “I look forward to a midday meal, Valanna. Kulara and I would like to talk to you about Trak Bluntwithe and Neel Cardswallow.” He left her standing by herself in the middle of the corridor. Valanna continued on towards the library.
Since they would be ostensibly talking about Trak and Neel, she decided to see what Asem’s library could tell her about Torya. Once she entered the room, she felt like someone watched her. Valanna had to smile, but then stopped and wondered if her rooms had such passages. She would have to ask Asem.
There were only two books that talked about Torya, but there were portfolios of reports of people who had been to Torya or had written accounts of others who had.
She sat down at a reading table by the one large window in the room and began to go through the reports. In the middle, she slipped the papers she had hidden in her dress out and laid them o
ver the scattered contents of the portfolio and began to read.
She had to keep her jaw from dropping once she learned that two factions emerged once Asem had left. Nobles in Balbaam had become less cooperative in their dealings with the King. The Pestlan king had begun to behave strangely towards Warish agents, except for Feely. Both groups might be plotting to depose King Marom. Valanna read through the information three times, memorizing as much of it as she could. She walked over to the small fireplace that kept the chill out of the room and burned the papers. She made sure that she also stirred the ashes. A magician wouldn’t be able to reconstitute the message now.
Valanna sat back and thought about the situation. Was any kingdom safe anymore? It seemed that the Ferezan slow strategy might have backfired even though that it was so close to success.
Did King Marom fear that Asem would align with one or the other? What about the Warish army? She ended up having more questions than the pages could possibly answer.
After going through the portfolios, she realized that she had gotten more information from Nullia about Torya than the obviously made-up descriptions in the reports. How much bad information existed in libraries in the various capitals? But then she wondered about the possibility of the distorted accounts purposely inserted by biased parties.
Did rulers make decisions based on bad observations? They must, she thought. It made her sad, but now she could see why Senior Dalistro sent his son out to gather information. Valanna would soon carry out the same role for Asem and the King, and she vowed to do her best.
Her maid interrupted the stillness of the library and informed her that the midday meal was ready. She put the portfolios back together and slipped them back where they belonged. The dining room was up two levels in the tower, and Valanna arrived just as Asem and Kulara did.
“Sit, sit,” Kulara said. “We don’t run into each other very often since we are floors apart from each other’s quarters.”