Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  The Lord pushed Timor aside and left Valanna’s room. Timor chanced a worried look at her in the grayness of twilight, and then closed the door gently behind him.

  ~

  Sounds of someone entering the shop door below woke Valanna from an uneasy sleep in the dark bedroom.

  She had gone to sleep on the floor trying to make sense of Puddingfan’s declarations. Vashtans had definitely insinuated themselves into King Harl’s circle. Asem suspected them, and now Valanna could verify that they were active in Pestle, but they didn’t control the King, not yet. King Harl, vicious moron that he was, played a dangerous game. He might have thought he was pitting one side against the other, but to Valanna, all he did was bring two rivals into Pestle who wouldn’t think twice about deposing a king.

  The stairs creaked, and then a tall, thin man opened the door. He carried a lamp that illuminated a long face, creased by middle age. His stringy dark hair hung down at the side of his face, but he dressed well. Another Lord to examine the prize?

  He put the lamp on the bedstead and bent over to help Valanna sit on the bed.

  “You helped me?” she couldn’t help but say.

  “And why not? You need help, don’t you?”

  “I do. Untie me and let me use the chamber pot.”

  “On me? You, Valanna Almond, might turn me into a turtle.”

  “Magic doesn’t work that way,” she said, before noticing that he used her proper name. She wouldn’t ask him why. To let on that he knew more than Timor or Puddingfan might betray a weakness.

  “I am not your enemy, Miss Almond, although you might have considered me one not long ago.”

  “Why is that?” Valanna said.

  “Ah, I am showing you a side of me that not many know about.” The man smiled and ran his hand through his lanky hair. “My name is Snively.”

  “Trak mentioned you once,” Valanna blurted out. She didn’t mean to, but Trak had said that Snively had saved him from Podor and Horsent Beanmouth, the lawyer who administered Trak’s inheritance. ‘You’re a clerk for Beanmouth.”

  Snively smiled, but it didn’t exactly brighten up his face, “Ah, of course, you knew Trak Bluntwithe well. I’ve done other things that have likely not escaped your notice. Remember Prince Nez?”

  Valanna shuddered. “I do, but he is dead.”

  “I had something to do with that. I worked with Neel Cardswallow to send messages to the idiot prince and convinced him to assassinate his father. I told Neel that it would never work, but the level of stupidity in some people overwhelms reason.”

  “And a good thing,” Valanna said. “I thank you for that. I was acquainted with the Prince for a brief time and counted that as one of the worst times of my life.”

  The man chuckled, but the act made Valanna cringe. Perhaps he just had an awful personality, even though his words might be leading up to something encouraging.

  “You came for some reason?” Valanna said.

  “Oh, yes,” Snively said, but Valanna didn’t think the man had said anything in the conversation that he didn’t mean to. “I was, until quite recently, in the casual employ of representatives of Vashta. They paid well, but I finally discovered their plans and decided that life as a slave didn’t appeal. I heard that you were on the market and had to check for myself.”

  “They told you that?”

  Snively nodded. “If you are in a relationship with a Vashtan, make sure you get them drunk. It is the only way I ever successfully pry useful information out of them.”

  “They want to take over Pestle,” Valanna said.

  “No they don’t,” Snively said. “They want to take over the world. They are in positions of influence in every country in the world.”

  “Not Santasia or Colcan.”

  Snidely began to untie Valanna, and managed another cadaverous smile. “Not presently in Santasia or Colcan, agreed. I think you had a large role to play in expelling the Vashtans in Santasia.”

  “I did, but you need to congratulate Trak Bluntwithe; he fought them.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  Valanna shrugged off the bindings. “I helped, I’ll admit it.”

  “Good. Then Pestle is your next mission? Help me take care of the Vashtans in Pestle, but after you have made yourself more comfortable.” He pointed to the chamber pot and left her alone in her room.

  She rubbed her wrists and ankles and used the chamber pot, which made her feel much better. She sat on the bed and began to think about escape, but she had to stop that train of thought. Snively knew what she needed to know, and she had to get that information back to Warish, so she couldn’t just run away from him. She went to the door with her lamp and called him. He sat at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look back at her, nodding after he gave her that mirthless smile of his, and clunked back up the stairs.

  “Better?”

  Valanna blushed. “Better. Now, how can I help rid Pestle of the Vashtans?”

  ‘First of all, we must agree to terms.”

  “Terms?” Valanna said.

  “My price is your vow to fulfill a wish whenever I choose to redeem it.”

  Valanna narrowed her eyes. “I can’t agree to that. What if your wish is to kill Trak Bluntwithe? I will refuse to do that. I am also aligned with Warish, and I will not betray my country.”

  “Betray Asem Ferez, you mean?”

  Valanna blinked. “You are well-informed.”

  “My business,” Snively looked down at his ink-stained fingernails, and then buffed them on his coat. “No betrayal necessary of Bluntwithe or of Warish, but it may be something you might not be excited about.”

  She realized that she didn’t have much choice, even if she now sat unbound and could blow Snively against the wall and walk out. “I agree.” She took a deep breath and wondered what she had just done.

  Snively rubbed his hands, but he did it in a less sinister way than Timor had just hours ago. “You are a lady in demand. The King wants you as do the Vashtans.”

  “The Vashtans care enough to buy me? I don’t know why I would be particularly valuable to them.”

  “Do you know who you are?” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I helped your father escape from Pestle a long time ago. He was…”

  “The assistant to the Court Magician who earned Harl’s ire. That’s my father.”

  “Did you know he was Harl’s cousin? You have royal blood flowing through your veins.”

  “Not true. My uncle—“

  “Your uncle was your mother’s brother. Your father lived a modest life, but always under the thumb of Harl’s father. King Alber and his son, Harl, didn’t like your father very much, since he was always a threat to their line. They did all they could to keep your father’s claims to the throne a secret, and that might have been the only competent thing King Harl has ever done. He had Puddingfan purge all of the records that indicated you were related to the King. If you look at the current records, you will find no trace of a relationship. When they found your father possessed magic, they pushed him into the role of the assistant to Court Magician Youngblood and framed the Court Magician as an excuse to take care of your father. They had intended to kill him for being a magician.”

  “How…” Valanna found herself unable to say another word.

  “Your mother had already been killed when they administered a long-acting fatal poison to your family and thought they had done the same to you. Your mother died first and your father didn’t survive much longer than the trip to Balbaam, but somehow,” Snively shrugged, “you escaped.”

  “I can’t believe you. Who else knows of this?” Valanna said.

  “Asem does, so King Marom probably does, too. I don’t think Neel Cardswallow or Trak are aware of your pedigree. I’ve never told anyone, but you should know. By the way, King Harl knows, as does his partner in incompetence, Lord Puddingfan. It’s something that you should know, so you can grant me my wish at the right time?
”

  “Riches, a title, an estate?” Valanna laughed. “You must think me naive. I’m no princess.”

  “Think what you will,” Snively said. “Just remember what I said and the agreement that we’ve made.”

  “A fantasy, but I agreed, and I will remember that. So now I know King Harl wants me dead for one more reason. I’m a spy, a magician, and a threat to his rule.”

  Snively smiled again. “Good, you understand. Now it’s time for you to educate yourself on what has happened at the highest levels of Pestle.”

  Snively told her about the Vashtans arriving in Pestledown in the last year and attracting the King into rejecting the Warish agreements already in place. Snively knew of a few Warish nobles, both of the Ferezan and a few in Balbaam, who had also aligned with Vashta.

  Valanna had all of the information she needed to return to Balbaam. She would help if Snively asked, anything to get her out of the filthy room.

  “I must leave now, and you must get some rest. I will have to tie you back up. Timor Saddlebug will check on you when he returns from his tavern tour with an associate of mine. Just before dawn, someone will come back and free you. I would do that now, but I must not be involved in your escape.”

  Snively re-tied Valanna, but with looser bonds. He left her sitting on the floor by her bed. He returned to empty out the chamber pot. “Excuse me, but even Timor might barely be observant enough to know this was used.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Eleven

  ~

  THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT BEGAN TO BRIGHTEN UP TRAK'S DORMITORY. He sat up, looking at the rows of sleeping men. He wondered why they were still slumbering until he realized that this was the day before the Moon Festival, and his shift wouldn't work for two days.

  Jojo's claim that the time to escape was near wiped away Trak's tiredness, so he drifted over to the mess building to get a jump on breakfast.

  When Trak walked in, he noticed a dark-headed man sitting with his back to him. Trak smiled and strode up behind him. "Sirul, how are you?" Trak said in Toryan.

  "Trak!" Sirul said as he turned around and put a leg over the bench to look at his friend. "It's great to see you're all right."

  Trak beamed and sat down astride the bench. "Are you eating your dinner?"

  Sirul nodded. "I am. Dinner for me, then bed, and then I have two shifts off, just like you. I took advantage of the cooks laying out Shift Two's food ahead of time."

  Trak's friend had filled out quite a bit since the last time he had seen him. He must look as fit as Sirul, he thought.

  "You are looking good, if a little pale," Sirul said. Both the Benninese and the Toryans had darker complexions than Pestlans.

  "I can't do much about that," Trak said. He looked around to make sure no one heard him. "I am going to escape soon. Do you want to join me?"

  Sirul's eyes went wide. "Do I!"

  Trak put his finger to his lips. "Quiet. I don't know any of the details yet, but let's meet with Tembul tonight, and perhaps I'll have more information then. I'm ready to move forward."

  "That makes two of us."

  An inmate sat at the end of their table and frowned when he saw them both speaking a foreign language.

  "Tonight, then," Trak said while he stood up and moved over to the food line. Men were beginning to fill the mess building.

  Jojo sat down next to Trak, just as Trak had finished his second helping. "Thirds today, if you wish. All you can eat today and tomorrow is as good as it gets."

  "That's fine, but I've had enough. I'm used to working and practicing. This idle time doesn't seem right."

  "Ah, youth," Jojo said. "We move tomorrow, just after the sun sets at the far end of the Second Shift building. There will be three others plus you and your friends."

  "That is a lot of inmates to escape. Won't we be noticed?" Trak said. He didn't like not knowing what Jojo had in mind, but he would grasp onto any chance he had to fulfill his mission.

  "There isn't anything you have, so you don't have to worry about bringing anything. Transportation will be provided."

  "We won't escape on foot?"

  Jojo shook his head. "No, not if everything turns out the way I intend."

  Trak didn't see any choice but to trust in Jojo. He didn't even know what direction to head. Other than going south, Trak had no idea where to find Beniko, the capital city. At least this time he didn't have to worry about the language, and a little time spent in the sun on their way south would tan his skin enough not to be so noticeable. Tembul and Sirul could always wear hats to hide their dark hair, although Toryan features were closer matches to Bennin faces than Trak's.

  "I'll be there."

  "Right when the celebration begins."

  Trak had to admit that he knew nothing of the Moon Festival. "What do the inmates of this prison camp have to celebrate?"

  "Life, breath," Jojo flexed his hand. "We haven't yet succumbed to the will of the Moon Goddess, who constantly wars against all living things. In Bennin, death is her victory. Decay is her tool. We all know she will win in the end, but we constantly engage to keep her at bay. So we celebrate, and it is the only time of the year where we get to drink beer and wine, as bad as what they give us is, and blur our troubles for a night. Don't drink, keep a clear head, and we will succeed."

  Still, Jojo hadn't given Trak an inkling about what constituted success. Trak walked back and sat on his bed, thinking about what he could do. He looked around his tiny area, and other than a few interesting rocks he had picked up in the mine, couldn't find anything that he couldn't do without. He put the rocks in his pocket. Trak still felt uncomfortable and uncertain about not knowing any details of the escape. It made him pace the dormitory until he felt confined and had to leave the building.

  Men sat around outside in the common area. His friends weren't in sight, so Trak wandered back along the pathway to the mines. It seemed that today no one worked at all, so the only footsteps on the raised walkway were his own.

  Trak looked around and spied a brightening in the forest. He left the pathway and after a few minutes fighting the vegetation, he came across a very modest meadow. The remains of a large tree ran like a spine through the open area, making it plain what had created the opening in the thick jungle-like forest.

  The foliage seemed impenetrable, so Trak decided to experiment on his poseless magic. He wondered if he could levitate a few feet up in the air, like a flyer without a platform. He stood still and then turned and peered into the forest to make sure no one looked on.

  Trak took a few breaths and closed his eyes, calming his mind. He thought of power flowing through his body, just as he had done in the mineshaft, and imagined himself floating three feet above the meadow's floor.

  He chanced to open his eyes and looked down at the ground. His feet dangled in mid-air. Trak then willed himself to rise to ten feet. He smiled as he rose up and stood surveying the meadow. After looking around, using spelled wind to move, he drifted around the meadow, but found he couldn’t control his movements very well.

  Trak pictured a balloon deflating slowly, and he lowered himself down until his feet touched the grass of the meadow once more. Without a great deal of practice, he didn’t see any use for what he just did. Walking was certainly faster and easier.

  In considerably better spirits, Trak returned to the common area and found that he had missed a special midday meal. He didn't mind, since he had had more than his usual multiple helpings for breakfast. He spotted Tembul and Sirul sitting beneath the shade of a tree at the edge of the assembly ground. He walked over and sat with them.

  "You missed lunch," Tembul said. "Lunch,” he snorted. “I saved one of these for you. I never thought I would miss such a thing, but I do." Tembul tossed Trak an orange. "Sirul said you have something exciting to tell me."

  Trak looked at the orange, and a thought ran through his head and disappeared when Tembul spoke about something exciting. Trak tried to look calm as he looked around to make sure
no one could hear them.

  "Tomorrow is the time we escape. Do not drink any alcohol and meet at the far end of my dormitory, the Second Shift building, an hour after sunset."

  Tembul peeled his orange, splitting out a segment and tossing it in his mouth. "And? What do we do after that?"

  Trak felt embarrassed. "I don't know. My partner is a man named Jojo. He says he used to be high up in the government before Vashtan influence shook up the political structure."

  “Vashtans, again!” Tembul spat on the ground. “How can you trust him?"

  "I can't be sure, but this is the only chance we'll be together. He has influence in the camp and has visitors. Mori is his cousin. We saw her not long ago, here in the camp."

  Tembul twisted his lips. "I don't doubt that. I thought she was too kind to us, but I can't see any other options, and I have no desire to spend the rest of my days in the camp, even though we've all become healthy specimens," he said, flexing his biceps.

  "Then we go ahead, right?" Trak said.

  Sirul nodded. "I'm in."

  "That makes three of us," Tembul said, putting the rest of the orange in his mouth. "I have grown accustomed to these things. The skin is thick enough to keep them fresh for awhile"

  "Skin!" Trak said. "I think I have solved a problem that has been bothering me for days."

  "What is it," Sirul asked, excitement in his voice.

  Trak shook his head. "I can't tell you right now, but you will know after we have escaped. Jojo is a strong magician, and we've had some long talks. I’ve increased my knowledge."

  "That isn't all that’s grown. You've put on weight, height, and muscle, my boy. Your Valanna wouldn't recognize you," Tembul said. "Wait until you look in a mirror; I think you'll surprise yourself."

  Trak laughed, a bit self-consciously. "Our captivity has made us into manly specimens. It looks like all three of us lose our bindings in the mines."

  Sirul nodded. "I don't think it is a big secret, but some do a better job using their magic than others." He peered at Trak. "It looks like you do all the work."

  "No. We use magic, but we also work out by using our magical and physical strength to remove iron, and in exchange for Benninese lessons, I teach Jojo sword forms."