Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  Mother came out. “We have a new inmate. He is two-eight-two. One-four-seven, you now have a partner. Make sure you train him well. He looks young and strong, so we have upped your quota to reflect that. You are dismissed to the mess building.

  Trak looked around to see if an inmate stayed behind. He couldn’t read the kind of Benninese script that the prisoners had used to mark their uniforms. One-four-seven was tall and strong, with long, dark blond hair turning white. Trak thought he looked to be about Tembul’s age, which was a bit older than Neel, his father.

  “Two-eight-two? I am one-four-seven, but you can call me Jojo.” He bowed to Trak, who bowed back.

  “I am Trak.” Trak suspected that they would be spending plenty of time together, so trading actual names sounded like an encouraging start to their relationship.

  “Glad to meet you, Trak. Let’s move along. If there is no food left when we get to the mess building, we go hungry.”

  Trak noticed that Jojo wore a harness on his body rather than the bindings on Trak. “Do I get a harness?”

  Jojo nodded. “When we get up to the mines, you’ll be given one of these. Its main purpose is to keep one of your arms immobilized. The guards switch the harnesses to bind your other side every few days so you can maintain your strength and balance over time. It wouldn’t do to lose the use of an arm, and then hurt yourself so you couldn’t dig out the ore the Committee desires.”

  “Which Committee, or I should say, what is a Committee? I’ve only been a few weeks in Bennin, and this Committee business is new to me. I met my first Committee the day I was made a slave.”

  Jojo laughed. “Don’t think that way. If you don’t believe you are a slave, you aren’t. I’ve been here for seven years, when they started this camp, and have convinced myself that I am not bound to any other man. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

  Trak stopped walking. “Me? We just met.”

  “Do you know Mori?” Jojo tugged on Trak’s sleeve to get him walking again.

  “The merchant?”

  The man nodded. “My cousin. She made sure we were to work together.”

  “How?”

  “The Committees run the bureaucracy and write the rules, but there is always a way around both of them.”

  Trak had learned a few things since he had left Pestle. “Money?”

  Jojo clapped Trak on the back. “Right you are. If you know whom to pay, life is better. Mori makes sure that I am well taken care of and that includes being paired up with you.”

  The man’s words still didn’t make much sense. “But how did Mori know who I am?”

  “Later,” he said. “Tomorrow when I teach you how to mine, we will talk again, Trak, because you are my hope, and now you have arrived.”

  ~

  As the day broke, Jojo dragged Trak up from his pallet early, so they could go to the mess building first.

  “We get two meals a day. Once you arrive in the mess hall, you can eat as many helpings as you want, but if you are late and the food is gone, it’s gone. One helping is never enough, trust me.”

  They both took the wooden trays and thin sticks that the Benninese used to eat and filled the trays under the watchful eyes of the kitchen staff. Everything in the mess building was clean, but plain, including the food, which was adequate, and less tasty than the rice and soup that Mori had taught Trak how to make.

  “Ah, there are three shifts in this camp. They spread out our entry and exit into the mine, and we eat at different times. It makes things flow easier. You’ll learn soon enough. Second Shift is the best, of course,” Jojo said, laughing. It was evident that Jojo didn’t let his future of lifetime incarceration bother him too much. Trak kept quiet as he ate. He had been told not to trust a Benninese and, so far, that had been good advice; first Paka and Lenis, and then the incident on the caravan followed by the joke of a trial in Peskoa.

  He would have to live on two levels; one level to maintain his strength of body and outlook, and the other to learn about the prison camp, so he could leave. He vowed to find a way to escape and fulfill his mission, but first he needed to learn the language better, and that meant both reading and writing. Jojo seemed friendly enough. Perhaps he would work with him on his language and understanding of the Benninese culture. Jojo said that Trak was his hope, and perhaps Jojo embodied hope for Trak.

  “You won’t be seeing your two friends if they are on other shifts, but things are a bit looser underground, you’ll see.”

  Trak sputtered when Jojo mentioned Tembul and Sirul. How did the man know he had friends in the camp? “You are well-informed.”

  Jojo smiled and took a bit of rice, just chewing on his food. “Mori told me in a letter with the funds to get you partnered with me.”

  “Is she a magician?”

  “I would tell you? Right now, you are still a stranger, so exercise a bit of patience. We can help each other, but let’s spend some time getting to know one another first.”

  Jojo’s reply settled Trak’s anxiety a bit, and that gave Trak more of an appetite, so both men rushed into the line of inmates for an additional helping.

  A gong rang, and the men took their empty trays to a window and left the mess building to line up outside. Once all men and women were out of the mess building, the guards marched them into the forest. The trek took them over a cobbled walkway raised above the surrounding ground. Trak wondered again about a rainy season, but since none of the inmates talked while they marched, Trak’s questions would have to wait until they were inside the mine.

  Trak estimated that they walked for less than half an hour going up and down, but mainly up, until they came to a flat clearing defined by a stone barrier. He could see that the wall extended into the forest in another direction. He noticed another gate with wagons lined up on the other side. The ore obviously left by a different route. He wondered what kept the inmates from climbing over the walls, and that meant more questions for Jojo.

  “Stop and step out,” a guard tapped Trak on the shoulder. She called over four other guards, who aimed crossbows at Trak. “No poses.” She removed his ropes and fit him into a harness. “Proceed.”

  Trak hobbled up to Jojo in the middle of the column as they walked into a large opening in the side of a hill. They passed a semi-circular stone-lined wall. Holes were cut into the stone, and Trak could see light from some of the holes. Were these arrow slits arranged such a way to discourage the inmates from escaping? A magician with a good shield could stroll through the segment. What he saw of the camp didn’t make sense. There were no realistic barriers to escape if a decent magician regained the ability to pose.

  Trak saw two inmates using one hand each to push the large-wheeled carts. The carts all had vertical rods for pushing, one on each side. He took one handle of the cart Jojo indicated, while Jojo put two picks and two shovels into cart. How could they use those tools with one hand?

  “Follow the rest,” Jojo said.

  The inmates still moved without talking. Guards monitored their every action. As they moved deeper into the mine, Trak noticed magic lights illuminating their way. Not long after, the inmates began to talk to each other.

  “Guards don’t come down here very often,” Jojo said.

  “But someone had to pose to create the lights.”

  Jojo nodded. “The weaker among us are assigned to make the lights. It is safer than torches, and the light is better, a slight concession to our abilities.”

  “And every inmate is a magician?”

  Jojo looked around at the inmates. “Most, but not all. Some are political prisoners, but then the magicians are, too.”

  Since Bennin outlawed magic just liked Pestle did, could there be a connection? He wondered as they continued down into the mine. “What are you mining?”

  “Mostly iron. See the red streaks in the walls. We just burrow through the mountain along whatever seams we find.”

  Trak had never thought much about mining, but now his mind whirred.
“So you’ve taken care of the light, but doesn’t the dust and the air get stale?”

  “Just wait,” Jojo said. “Turn to the left.”

  A branch appeared just up ahead. Trak pushed his side of the cart so it headed into the left tunnel. After another two turns, Trak and Jojo faced a blank wall.

  “We fill up the cart with ore during our shift. That is our quota.”

  Trak looked down at the cart. “So you had to make this half full each day?”

  Jojo smiled and looked intently at Trak. “You are a smart kid. That’s right. You are my first healthy partner in two years. If you want to improve your strength, you’ve ended up in the right place.”

  Trak had a hard time making out the iron in the wall. “Shouldn’t we get a light put here?”

  “Sure.” Jojo shrugged off his harness and created a light using a similar pose to the one that Trak learned, but the power word was different.

  “You…”

  “Let me show you how.” Jojo taught Trak how to remove the harness using one hand. “I don’t work with one hand and neither should you. It will take us about three hours or so to fill up the cart, and then we can talk about what comes next.”

  “How many magicians take off their harnesses?” Trak said while exercising his arm.

  “Me, for sure, but I suppose there are many more who have learned the trick.”

  Trak took up a shovel and made a light of his own to clear out the seam. “Can we fill this up and then talk? I have a lot of questions.”

  Jojo puffed out his chest. “I have a lot of questions of my own. Let’s get to work.”

  Trak followed Jojo’s instructions as they worked together to clean out the seam, putting the non-ore bearing rock on the side. Third Shift’s job was to clear out the mineshafts.

  Some time later, they had filled the cart, and Jojo sat Trak down, leaning against the wall of the mine.

  “Are these shafts safe? Won’t they collapse or something?”

  Jojo laughed. “Not the ones I work on. He posed, and then closed his eyes and opened his hands. “There.”

  “What kind of spell did you use?”

  “One that binds rock to each other. It’s a simple spell, actually. You don’t have one like that?”

  It wasn’t hard to admit that he didn’t. “Do you use it in construction?”

  Jojo nodded. “You are a smart one. We used it to bind bricks together and strengthen stucco walls. Here we bind the rocks together that circle the walls. It works. Would you like to learn? I will teach you if you agree with certain conditions.”

  “What are the conditions?”

  “Do you know who the Vashtans are?”

  Trak’s heart sunk. The Vashtans had their hands everywhere. “I do. I found them in Santasia.”

  “You what?”

  The Santasian civil war became the topic for the next hour while Trak told his view of the war that had just ended. Jojo had to work with Trak in places to get through Trak’s limited grasp of the Benninese language.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

  Trak nodded. “If there are any conflicts in the world right now, you have to suspect their involvement.”

  “You are right,” Jojo said. “You have more than paid for the information I’m about to give you. Vashtans are behind the takeover of our bureaucracy. They banned magic except for Benninese nobles who have pledged to become their allies.”

  “But they haven’t taken over the government?”

  Jojo laughed. “The government is the Bureaucracy. When the bureaucrats move, they really don’t care who the titular head of government is; they function on their own.”

  “Have the Vashtans infiltrated the bureaucracy?”

  Jojo paused. “Of course they have, but exactly to what extent, I don’t know. Mori has a better idea of what the current situation is.”

  Trak rose to his feet. “The Warish have done much the same to Pestle, but the Vashtans aren’t behind King Marom. I know that for a fact.”

  “You are a Toryan. What do you care what happens on Pestle?”

  Trak pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. Jojo took a step back. Trak laughed. “This is no pose,” he said. “I am from Pestle. I have a Pestlan mother and a half-Toryan father.”

  “Half Toryan and half Pestlan must be an interesting combination.”

  “My father is half Colcan and half Toryan. When he was about my age, he had a falling out with the powers in their capital and left, ending up in Pestle and marrying my mother. She was executed for practicing magic, which was banned nearly twenty years ago by King Harl shortly after he first took the throne.” Trak angered at the thought and knew the same thing must have happened on Bennin. “I suppose a government seeking control denies magicians a place so they can rule unimpeded.”

  “And did that happen in Santasia?”

  Trak shook his head. “The populace split between loyalists to the Santasian Council and populist allegiance to a powerful magician…”

  “Which you defeated.”

  Trak nodded. “Which I defeated, but the Vashtans spirited him away using a teleportation spell. I chased them from spot to spot, but I fell behind.”

  “Teleportation. How did you follow them?”

  Trak paused and wondered if he should trust Jojo. Perhaps the Committee that ran the prison camp planted him. He could claim he knew Mori.

  “A spell I know, two actually, but it isn’t teleportation.”

  Jojo leaned back against the wall. “May I examine your magical strength?”

  “The Toryans have a spell that does that,” Trak said.

  “And so do we. Just stand up straight.”

  Trak did as Jojo asked.

  After a few moments, Jojo sighed and then grinned. He clapped both hands on his shoulders. “You are my hope and my dream. I see three channels of power in you, something I have never observed before. You can become the most powerful magician on Bennin with the proper training. How many poses do you know?”

  “Over seventy,” Trak said.

  Jojo sputtered. “Seventy! I didn’t even know there were that many. If you didn’t know the binding spell, I’m sure there are some Benninese poses I can show you.”

  “Power words are different among different peoples.” Trak said. Evidently, Jojo wasn’t as accomplished as he thought.

  Jojo waved his comment away. “You won’t need to know all the power words.” He put his finger to his lips. “I will teach you how to channel power through your body without using a pose.”

  Trak didn’t know if he should believe Jojo, but it was time for one of his questions. “Why haven’t you escaped, if you can do it yourself?”

  “That assumes I am incarcerated involuntarily, doesn’t it?” Jojo raised an eyebrow. “I hide in plain sight. I stay here because one man, even a powerful magician, can only do so much. You and your friends can join us. I have a number of people who I trust and will move when the time is right. A magician of your caliber, joining us, makes the time right.”

  “What are your plans?”

  Jojo stood up. “I’m not ready to tell you, just as I can tell you are not ready to trust me. What do you want of me while we get to know each other better?”

  “I would like to spell without a pose.”

  “That is why I told you I could,” Jojo said, “but that will wait until the trust is earned on both sides.”

  “My friends and I came to Bennin to rescue a Toryan princess held in your capital city, so I need to learn to speak Benninese better and read your writing before I proceed.”

  “Ah, I should have thought of the princess. I have heard of her, even here. Let me teach you our language. That will be easy since we will have lots of time down here.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Six

  ~

  VALANNA STEPPED DOWN FROM HER COACH and looked up at the sign of the out-of-the-way inn, The Blunted Sword. Trak grew up here. She stepped inside and found the inn q
uite orderly.

  “Meal or a room?”

  Valanna smiled as she shed her cloak. “Both, actually. Isn’t this Able Bluntwithe’s establishment?”

  The female innkeeper squinted her eyes for an instant, but broke into a friendly smile. Valanna suspected the squint mirrored the woman’s true feelings. “It is. Do you know Able?”

  Valanna shook her head. “I don’t, but I know Trak rather well.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Trak isn’t here either.”

  “He is probably in Bennin by now. Able, I believe is in Torya and won’t return until Trak does.”

  The innkeeper gave Valanna an appraising look and walked behind the long counter. “You are better informed than I am. Can I get you a drink? Ale?” Valanna picked up the nervousness in her voice.

  “A small mug would do me nicely,” Valanna said. “My drivers are out getting the carriage seen to. Could you see that they get a rather larger portion than I?”

  “Certainly. Have you come all the way from Pestledown?”

  Valanna looked at her fingernails. “Balbaam, actually. You know…Warish?”

  After clearing her throat the woman brought ale to a table. “You can sit here. I’ll tend to your servants.”

  Valanna took a sip and frowned. She thought that Able would likely be disappointed in what the woman served. Looking around the inn, Valanna found it nice and tidy. She ran her hand along the table’s surface feeling every dent and carving. How many times had Trak washed this table when he worked here with his father?

  She wondered what was different. Trak hadn’t been back to the inn, as far as she knew, since he was fourteen, over four years ago, and she suspected he had changed much more than this room had.

  Valanna took another sip and slipped out the back door. What had Trak talked about, his little farm? She looked around and spotted a modest orchard on the other side of an open corral. She strolled in the cool air and wandered through the fallow rows. Vegetables had grown here, and Trak had climbed in these fruit trees.

  She could picture him practicing the sword forms that Neel had taught him, honing the hidden talent that lurked within. Valanna realized that Trak had only recently unlocked the promise of what he could become, and when he offered her his friendship in Amorim, she had only thought of herself. She couldn’t help but sigh.