Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  He unlocked the door with his magic and noticed light leaking through a few decorative grills set into one side of the walls. Could that be the Emperor’s quarters? He stood close by one of the vents and tried to listen to a conversation carried out in low tones. Trak bent down to look through a vent.

  Nashi, a Vashtan, an overdressed man with some odd kind of headpiece, who might have been the Emperor, and another Benninese in black and red silks sat at a low table.

  Why couldn’t he have learned a spell for listening? Trak smiled. He didn’t need spells anymore. He willed the magic around him to improve his hearing. He didn’t know quite what he did or how the spell worked, but he could now hear their conversation clearly.

  “You know what you need to do.” The man in black and red seemed to be more in charge than the Emperor.

  “Quiet!” the Vashtan said. “There is magic, I sense it.”

  The man in black and red looked around the room, and then his eyes focused towards the wall where Trak listened. “A magician!”

  Trak had blundered. He ran back down the stairs and unlocked the pantry door before he teleported back to his bedroom, his face sweating. He went to the washbasin and wiped his face.

  Tembul walked in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You weren’t gone long.”

  “I made a mistake, but I know more now than I did. I saw a Vashtan in the Emperor’s presence. Nashi was there, along with a man dressed in black and red silk robes.”

  “You made it all the way to the top?”

  Trak shook his head. “One level from the top. Nashi knows where we live, which means the Emperor could capture us at any time. I need to tell Mori.”

  He took off his black robe and weapons and ran to the second level where Mori slept. He knocked on her door. “Mori, it’s Trak. I have some news.”

  Trak could hear the woman mutter something and, after a few moments, opened the door. Her hair now cascaded down her back, making her look younger and prettier than she normally did.

  “Why are you waking me up?” Her angry face did a good job of erasing the beauty that Trak noticed.

  Trak bit his lip for a moment, but then described his foray into the castle, including his descriptions of the men at the meeting.

  “That is the Emperor. I don’t even know what a Vashtan looks like, but the man in black and red silks is the Court Magician, Shinowa. He’s the one who took over the bureaucracy and dismissed Jojo from his position.”

  “He definitely behaved like the man in charge. The Emperor just looked on.” Trak wondered if he should have used ‘worry’ on the four men, but it was too late for that now. “Nashi knows where we are.”

  Mori rubbed her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “You are in danger. Jojo always assumes that what he tells anybody will get back to the Emperor, so he is safe enough. That leaves me as exposed as you, and I,” Mori shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “am just a single merchant woman. No one really cares about me, even Jojo.” She tapped on her lips while she thought for a moment. “I own a number of houses in the city, even a few that my cousin probably doesn’t know about. Let me get dressed, and I will take you to one of them that has a large enough courtyard for your contraptions. Have the others take whatever food they can. There is a well on that property, along with indoor plumbing, so you won’t lack for water or convenience.”

  ~

  Trak coughed as he materialized back in the stable yard of her house with Mori hanging onto his arm, but she quickly disengaged.

  “That is scary,” she said. “I’ve heard of the Vashtans teleporting, but I never expected to do it myself.” She brushed some cobwebs out of her hair. “Sorry about the condition of the house that I just showed you, but it is the best for your purpose,” she said.

  Tembul and Sirul used the Toryan floater spell to bring the two flyers out of the stable in the darkness of the evening. The two had already loaded them up with their belongings and food.

  “It’s not far,” Trak said as he held onto Tembul with one hand and the flyer with the other. After another breath, Trak materialized with the flyer and Tembul in the courtyard of their new location. “I have to get Sirul and the other flyer.”

  Trak took Mori’s hand. “You have been more help than anyone. We all appreciate it.”

  Mori smiled. “I wish you luck,” she said, patting Trak’s hand. “Let me know how you fare. Who knows? I may be joining you on your trip to Torya before all of this is over.”

  Trak nodded and took Sirul and the flyer to their new home.

  “This is bigger than her other house,” Tembul said, leaning against the flyer that he had moved to the edge of the courtyard, “but it seems to have seen better days.”

  “Just reserve your judgement until you have gone through the front door.” Trak led the Toryans onto the porch under the wide, low tile roof of the house. “A nobleman built this a long time ago. Mori said the style has gone out of fashion,” he said as he opened the door, and spelled a magician’s light. “See? Mori added more up-to-date touches, like indoor plumbing, when she first bought it.”

  The reflection of the light bounced off dust covering polished wooden floors, showing the footprints that Mori and Trak had left. “Mori hasn’t been here for awhile, so there are some spiders and other creatures hanging about. We should be able to scare them off,” Trak said with a grin. “We have furniture, bedding, kitchen utensils, and indoor plumbing, but no one has used this place for three years, according to Mori. She says wants to live here when she retires, since everything is on a single floor.”

  “Where is this place?” Tembul said.

  Trak led them back out into the courtyard. “Climb aboard,” he said. “Let me give you a bird’s eye view, literally,” he laughed. How long had it been since he had actually laughed? Trak kept smiling as he looked at the Toryans’ faces when he took them up twenty stories into the early morning darkness.

  “That is the castle?” Sirul said, pointing to the towering structure, still below their height. “It’s in our backyard.”

  “Our old house is on the other side of the castle. Right, Trak?” Tembul said.

  “It is. We are in a different district. There are nicer houses here, but not the huge mansions that higher-level bureaucrats inhabit farther to the south, but there are enough dwellings of people of lesser classes, so we can move around here without attracting attention.”

  Trak lowered them down to the courtyard and pushed the flyer away from the entrance. “We have some cleaning to do, first. That is Mori’s principal condition for our staying here. We can use the house if we clean the inside. She doesn’t care about the exterior. I thought that was cheap enough rent.”

  Tembul grinned. “Cheap indeed. Let’s get started first thing in the morning.” He yawned and took a load of their supplies and walked into the house.

  ~

  Trak didn’t know if he would ever be able to get all the dusty cobwebs out of his clothes after finishing their cleaning activities at the end of the next day. He relished the physical activity, and they could practice their swordsmanship and exercise in the empty courtyard, now that they didn’t have to worry about Mori’s shipments in and out of the stable or invasion by Jojo’s men or the Emperor’s.

  They all sat down to dinner. Trak’s complexion hadn’t faded during the day, despite the sweat, so he volunteered to procure food to eat at a small marketplace not far from the house.

  “Are you ready for another castle invasion?” Tembul said.

  Trak nodded. “I think I will explore the dungeons. Perhaps we might find the princess. I don’t think there are any Vashtans anywhere near the cells.”

  “I agree,” Tembul said. “There are just a few modifications to add to the flyers, although we will only need one flyer now.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Trak said. “There are the three of us plus the princess and our things. That might make the flyer a bit full, don’t you think?”

  Tembul waved Trak away. “
But I don’t want to leave one behind.” Tembul took a piece of grilled chicken off a skewer and dipped it in a little pot made from waxed paper. “Lenis knows how they work, even if he doesn’t know the lift spell. The Vashtans could probably find a way to lift the flyer into the air.”

  “Like teleportation?” Trak said, but he knew what Tembul meant, and then raised his hand as a gesture of conciliation. “I agree to destroy one of the flyers if we don’t use it. But we should do it just as we leave, since we might be pressed to cling to any advantage we can, right?”

  Tembul nodded. “Right.”

  Trak smiled and reached out to gently shake Tembul’s shoulder and took a bite from his own skewer. “I can’t wait to leave Beniko. Another day and this place will be clean enough, don’t you think?”

  “Parts of the house are still dirty,” Sirul said.

  Trak rubbed Sirul’s head. “Cleaner than any prison camp you’ve ever been in.”

  “At least I have my own room now,” Sirul said.

  “Then you can keep that as spotless as you wish,” Tembul poured some water into a cup and drained it. “I’ve put in a full day.”

  “So tonight I’m heading to the dungeons. If nothing else, we’ll be able to know if the princess is there, now that I’ve learned to administer the truth spell without a pose.”

  Tembul rubbed his chin in thought. “I’ll lay my bed out in your room, along with some bandages, in case you don’t arrive back intact, but don’t disturb my sleep when you return if all is well.”

  Trak nodded, and while Sirul cleaned up from dinner, Trak assembled his black costume in what they all thought must be a large study of some kind. None of them could figure out the purpose of some of the old mansion’s rooms. There were aspects of the Benninese culture that none of them had learned. He found a mirror and wiped his face. The day’s activities had worn off enough to require a bit more of the shoe polish.

  He admired his Benninese darkness. Actually his face ended up darker this time, and that might be to his advantage down in the dungeons. He laid down in the study and fell asleep. When he woke, he looked at the old water clock that was in the study, afraid that he might have overslept, but the current time was in the window he had given himself. He doubted if he would be gone for more than an hour.

  After adjusting the weapons beneath his robe, he teleported into the dungeons at the exact place where he had left earlier in the week. Had it just been a week? To Trak, it seemed like ages since he last met with Nashi and Jojo.

  He turned around in a circle before descending. There were a few guards at every level, and Trak put them to sleep where they hadn’t already given in to slumber. He reached the bottom without discovering anything of note. There were plenty of prisoners, but none were royalty, by any means. Nashi’s plan showed no more dungeons, but he had said the Toryan woman was in the cells. There were deeper dungeons to his right, so he continued until he reached the end. He couldn’t accept that the dungeons ended right there, so he extinguished his mage light and saw the barest line of light from a crack in the wall.

  Intensifying his spelled light, he saw a spot on the stone face that looked different. The rock seemed to be dirtier than the rest. Trak pushed the block, and an edge appeared in the wall. He grabbed it and pulled open a hidden door. His heart beat a bit faster. He took a deep breath, the way Misson had taught him long ago in Santasia, to provide an inner calm, and entered. Lamps lit the hallway. The floor was cleaner, and the stone dressed finer. He turned around to see if opening the door might have triggered some alarm, but he couldn’t detect anything.

  He entered and closed the door using a horizontal rod driven into the stone. A pull chain hung right by the opening. Trak pulled, and the door opened slightly, just like it had when he pushed the dirty stone. He turned around and walked to the first cell.

  Perhaps a bold approach was warranted. All of these doors appeared to slide open. He took the handle and opened it just a bit and peered in, surprised that the door was unlocked. He noticed a man sitting at a desk. The back of a familiar head turned around.

  “Trak! I wondered when you’d show up for a visit,” Lenis said, feigning a yawn, but he looked more nervous than his words showed. “Come in and sit down.” He pointed to a chair across the cell from its occupant.

  Trak’s heart leapt to his throat. He took another deep breath and took a seat, trying not to look nervous himself. “What are you doing here?”

  “Writing a letter. And you?” Lenis seemed to feel more comfortable with Trak sitting, thinking that he couldn’t pose. The same condescending tone of voice came through loud and clear.

  Trak gnashed his teeth. He really didn’t like Lenis, and for good reasons, he thought. “I’m on a stroll, looking for princesses,” he said, quite proud of his repartee, and that calmed him down a bit. He looked around the room. Decorative wall hangings hid the stone walls. Tightly woven rugs with unique designs covered the floors. A glass decanter of wine, a half-eaten loaf of bread, and a small wheel of cheese were on a sideboard. Trak thought it an unlikely spot for a room as nice as this, and no one would label Lenis as deprived.

  “You’ve come to the right place. She’s in the last cell down the hall. I’m sure she will be thrilled to see a common person, a quarter-bred Toryan, in her presence. I seriously doubt if she would follow you out of this place.”

  Trak had taken enough and put Lenis to sleep. He draped the man over the desk after reading what he had written. The letter was to some woman, a love letter in barely legible Benninese. He just shook his head in dismay. Clearly, Lenis didn’t have any sense of duty. Trak had a hard time applying the term ‘cell’ to the furnished room that Lenis called home.

  He peeked out the door and went to the next cell. He wondered if all of the cells down here were like that, making this section a dungeon for the higher-ups. Perhaps Jojo might have started in a cell like this before they shipped him to the mines.

  The next cell was open and empty. The furnishings were similar to the cell that Lenis lived in. When he tried to open the next cell, the door was locked. Trak pursed his lips and looked up and down the corridor. No one stirred so late at night…except for Lenis writing his love note.

  He used his magic to turn the lock and slid the door open. He looked into darkness. Not sure of what to do next, he paused to listen. Suddenly a mage light lit the room up. It wasn’t Trak’s. He stayed where he was and invoked a shield.

  Two other men rubbed their eyes, since one stood, still in the pose he used to ignite the light.

  “Why…” The man spoke another word and the light intensified. He squinted at Trak. “You’re not Benninese.”

  Trak nodded his head, secure behind his shield. “Neither are you.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ~

  KULARA AND VALANNA SAT TOGETHER IN FRONT OF FOUR VASHTANS. They all shared the sharper noses that Derit had, and Valanna thought she would be able to distinguish between the two types of Vashtans now that she had seen more who looked like Derit. Valanna was certain that the Vashtan who had entered into Rumanna’s tent had the flatter nose. She didn’t know if that indicated anything, but perhaps it did.

  Derit spoke to them about their recent adventure, although Valanna knew that tale had already been told.

  “And you seek to stop the Foxes from taking over Warish?” Henrig said.

  Valanna shook her head. “Their intent isn’t to take over, but rule behind the scenes. Am I correct? They seek the same goal in Pestle and must be close in both places.”

  Henrig nodded. “You are correct. Without King Marom’s ‘Long War’, we think the Pestlan people would be revolting on their own. Unwittingly, King Marom has lent support to the Yellow Fox infiltration of Pestle, much the same that they have done in Kandanna and Bennin.”

  “Bennin? Trak is there!” Valanna said. What had Trak Bluntwithe gotten himself into?

  “Trak?” Henrig looked quizzically at Derit.

&n
bsp; “The Pestlan boy magician who nearly killed the Santasian master wizard,” Derit said. “Valanna and Trak have a relationship of sorts.”

  That described her situation with Trak well enough, Valanna thought. “He is a friend and went to Bennin at the request of the Toryans to retrieve a princess who had reportedly been sold into slavery.”

  “Ah, that. Our own agents in Beniko told us of the Toryan princess. One of the many layers the true leader of the Benninese is employing to secure his position.”

  “True leader?” Kulara said.

  “Yes. The Emperor is merely a functionary. Probably the most powerful magician in Bennin has risen in power, so he controls the Emperor and leads Bennin’s bureaucracy. Our people are still gathering information. It comes from Bennin very, very slowly. Yellow Fox Vashtans are allies with that magician.”

  “Sounds just like Riotro in Santasia,” Kulara said.

  “The same strategy employed at different ends of our world,” Henrig said, nodding. “It is none of our doing, as Derit has told you. Our goal, deep in the Arid Lands, is to end the Vashtan incursions in Warish. The Yellow Fox strategy is much different here than in Santasia. In Warish, they have co-opted an entire faction of nobles and will encourage them to assassinate King Marom. Something similar will happen in Pestle, just as soon as King Marom has been killed.”

  Valanna had little love for King Harl, but assassination was a step too far. She narrowed her eyes and said, “What can we do to thwart the plot? We know that Rumanna, Prince Asem’s wife, was under a compulsion spell. Does that mean the others are, too?”

  Henrig nodded. “Some are compelled, and others aren’t. Ambition and envy are sometimes more powerful than any compulsion. We have a list of those who have aligned themselves with the Yellow Foxes.”

  Valanna didn’t think she could kill those identified out of hand, but the fire in Kulara’s eyes indicated that her companion would be happy to. “I will let you know of a power word that will end any spell.”