‘There are other states on this world. In the Trir Empire, for instance, light magicians are held in great respect and revered, whereas the Academy of Light Forces is in Valensia, a state totally dependent on it, which is why it is sometimes called “The Valensian Academy”. Previously there had been a political counterpart, the so-called Citadel of the Dark Power, but after the war which ended twenty years ago, the Citadel was in ruins and the magicians of that Order were forced into hiding.’
Throughout this conversation – or rather, lecture given by the princess – Oleg and Ataletta had been making their way up a dusty, winding staircase. Due to its location in a “deep strata” the spell room could easily have been compared to a bunker built in the Soviet era in case of a nuclear war.
Finally they arrived at the living levels. The stone floor, sooty ceiling and walls festooned with tapestries were lit by narrow windows which looked like arrow-slits. Curious, Oleg took a look out of one of the windows. His eyes were met with a magnificent view. “Clearing horse manure from the back yard of a medieval castle lit up by the rays of the setting sun” is how an artist might have described the scene opening up before him. Behind the big heap of precious fertilizer, constantly replenished from the stables, rose a stone wall, completely blocking any view of the rest of the territory. With a sigh, Oleg moved away from the window. The paysage, which was of rather dubious value in terms of both aesthetics and information, didn’t inspire him to take a closer look.
‘Where are we?’
‘This is Kreghist Tor, our family castle. It was built by my ancestor before the days when the Kreghists became the royal dynasty of Fenrian but were just one of the failing aristocratic houses under the great Tiis dynasty. Later, when the last Tiis “tragically met his death while hunting” and Friedrich the First Kreghist came to the throne, (all those who had witnessed the hunt quickly met their end as a result of a well-prepared series of “unfortunate accidents”), the capital was moved from Orvalen to Velmint, which has been the main city of our kingdom for two centuries.’
‘By the way,’ Oleg suddenly remembered, ‘I wanted to ask you why you call your own uncle by his surname. It would be more logical to use his first name, especially for you, his close relative.’
‘I don’t want to draw his attention. He possesses magical powers and they say that any magician who’s strong enough has the capacity to hear when someone calls him by name. I don’t want to risk it. Sometimes I think it’s a real pity that a person with royal blood can’t be used for ritual purposes, otherwise he would have long since been sacrificed to Orchis.’ And the princess gave a dreamy sigh.
Just then, a young man appeared from around the corner. He was wearing a tunic similar to Ataletta’s but cut slightly differently and much more lavish. Over the tunic was a cuirass reminiscent of that of the ancient Roman legionnaires. The hilt of the short sword hanging from his belt dazzled with its abundance of large rubies and diamonds. His armour was likewise dripping with gilt and precious stones.
‘Lieutenant Leib-Guard Laed Ermini, son of one of Fenrian’s richest families. An agile courtier, not a bad fencer, one of my uncle’s closest aides and … an utter scumbag.’ The princess shuddered and tried to turn down a different corridor, obviously attempting to avoid meeting him. Her attempt failed.
Seeing the princess, the “utter scumbag” hurried towards her at once.
‘Your Highness, where have you been?’ Unconcealed anger could be heard in the lieutenant’s voice. ‘The Lord Chancellor is alarmed! I’ve been ordered to accompany you to his cabinet at once. Come with me, if you please.’ He weighed Oleg with a quick glance, then deliberately ignored him.
Ataletta’s eyes flashed. Her initial irritation turned to fright when she realized who wanted her and why. But then her fright vanished, too, forced out by fury: they dared to order her, the Crown Princess, like some court servant! The next moment that rage, like bubbling lava, spilled out onto Lieutenant Laed’s carefully pomaded head:
‘*** off and ***! Go *** yourself and your Lord Chancellor, and *** there. I’m the heir to the throne and if some *** with boiled brains decides he can order me about then he’s making a *** big mistake.’
Once she’d let off steam, the girl turned to Laed and said in a quite different, cold and calm tone: ‘Lieutenant Laed, is that quite clear? You are dismissed. Inform the Lord Chancellor that if he needs our company, he may approach my secretary and request an audience.’
Gaping at such a response, Ermini jerked automatically and was on the point of leaving when he suddenly pulled himself together.
‘Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am not at liberty to obey your orders. I believe that the Lord Chancellor is likewise unable to. In my opinion, it is simply anatomically not possible! The Lord Chancellor’s orders are quite clear. I have been ordered to deliver you to him at any cost. Will you come willingly or shall I use force?’
To show he meant business, he grabbed Ataletta’s arm and gave it a tug. The girl cried out, and Oleg decided it was time to get involved.
He lazily took a step forward, eyed the Lieutenant who was almost a head shorter than himself, and enquired: ‘Your Highness, is it my imagination or has this lieutenant indeed dared to lay hands on a person of royal blood? I have of course heard many rumours about your situation, but even so, it never entered my head that things could have sunk to such dreadful depths. Would you permit me to punish this impudent man?’
So saying, Oleg stared assiduously at the girl, trying to imitate a love struck gaze. He had decided that the sooner rumours about him and his love for the princess began circulating, the better. And this puffed up army boy was perfectly suited to the role of gossiper.
It was clear that Oleg had completed his first task – to appear as out-of-the-ordinary as possible – with flying colours.
‘Who are you and how did you get into the palace? By what right do you meddle in matters of state?’ Laed was so shocked that someone dared oppose the orders of the all-powerful Lord Chancellor, he even let go of Ataletta’s arm.
She made the most of her newfound freedom and immediately slipped behind Oleg, from where she proudly announced: ‘Lir( analogous to the French “chevalier” or the English “sir”) Arioch, I permit you to treat him as you see fit. He could use a little lesson in good manners. Only, please, don’t kill him,’ she added hastily, evidently remembering the show Oleg had put on in the cellar.
‘Certainly, Your Highness, as you wish.’ With a nod to the princess, he turned to the officer. ‘My name is Arioch. I am a courtier minstrel from Russia, a smallish country on the southeast of the continent, beyond the Seli Khaliphate.’
Oleg risked nothing by such an announcement. As Ataletta had told him, the southeast of the continent was all but unchartered due to its politico-magical situation. Just what that situation was, the girl hadn’t explained, and Oleg wasn’t about to dwell on such details. The main thing was that all maps only showed one big white splodge where absolutely any country could be with absolutely any – even the most exotic -- customs. In other words, it was an ideal cover.
Oleg went on: ‘I am here by invitation of Her Highness, and I am meddling by the rights and duties of a courtier, in front of whom a conspirator attacks an heir to the throne, and as a man, who sees a scoundrel insult a helpless maiden!’
And with this phrase, so full of feeling, he slapped Laed in the face, and announced in the best tradition of prerevolutionary officers, ‘Defend your honour, Lir.’
The officer’s reaction was extremely unexpected. Instead of giving a dignified nod and stating the time and place for the duel as Oleg expected, and instead of drawing his sword and trying to slay him where he stood, Laed Ermini behaved rather oddly. he deftly snatched some kind of amulet from the folds of his clothes. It looked like a schoolboy’s geometry instrument – a triangle in a square – and waved it under Oleg’s nose. Oleg’s karate reflexes sprung into action and the lieutenant flew down the corridor while his gadget
remained in Oleg’s hands, pricking his fingers unpleasantly. He clenched his fist (the amulet crunched and broke). Oleg took a step towards his opponent intending to “deal with the situation” but the lieutenant jumped to his feet and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, ducking and diving as though under fire.
‘What’s up with him?’ Oleg turned to Ataletta, who was smiling from ear to ear. ‘I can’t believe you take cowards like him into the Guards? If he runs like that from a challenge to a duel, what will he do on the battlefield?’
‘And who told you to challenge him to a magical duel? He, like any other Guard, is a lower-ranking priest of Orchis, and as such he has… had… an amulet. Yep, there it is, you’re trying to sweep its remains under the carpet now! And by the way, they say the amulet is protected by the power of the god and, theoretically, it’s impossible to break it. “Defend your honour!” Since the cult of Orchis appeared in our kingdom along with the amulets, that’s the first time those words have been uttered! It’s clear he was shocked! And when the amulet didn’t have any effect on you even though it’s supposed to paralyze anyone--even the strongest magicians--he decided that he was dealing with an extremely potent magician, or possibly even a new god who had decided to come to my aid. I think he is now putting as much distance as possible between himself and the palace, and with all possible haste, and will keep away from politics in the future.’
‘In that case, we need to hurry! He’ll report to his superiors and soon a whole army will be rushing to capture us. I don’t really fancy slaughtering the armed forces of your country.’ Oleg was really worried and bluffing through his teeth.
‘Don’t worry. He’s not likely to tell anyone. After being disgraced like that, he’d be shipped out to fight in the front line. And anyhow, I think from now on we should use the secret passageway. Seeing as Kreghist dared to give the order to capture me, that means there’s not much time left… Poor Papa!’
The princess took a few steps and took hold of something sticking out of the wall, evidently one of the rings used for holding torches. She rotated it around its axis and then gave it a sharp tug. The stone panel immediately moved to one side with a soft rustle, revealing a secret passageway.
‘Let’s go.’ The girl dived into the depths behind the trapdoor and all Oleg could do was follow her.
The secret passage, which wound around capriciously, had many apertures for spying and eavesdropping. The sound of voices came up through one of them. Oleg went closer and looked through the opening. Before him was the guard’s room. Listening in to the conversation going on there, Oleg was quick to withdraw, leading the princess out behind him. It was not a conversation …desirable … for her to hear.
‘…three days. I’ll bet you five silver coins.’
‘OK, agreed. Don’t you want to bet on the method, too?’
‘The method?’
‘You know - poison, strangle, suffocate, fall down the stairs, or whatever?’
‘And how should I know?’
‘Well, how do you know when, then?’
‘Well, that’s easy. Tomorrow the old king, will turn up his toes, then there’ll be three days of mourning, then the coronation should follow. And she, of course, won’t live to see the coronation. But he won’t bump her off straightaway. The Lord Chancellor’s not a beast, he’ll give her time to bid her father farewell. And so that means that in three days’ time …’
No, no, the princess certainly should not hear that.
Seeing Oleg’s obvious interest in the many spy holes, Ataletta decided to explain.
‘This passageway was built by my great-grandfather who was renowned for his intense curiosity. It runs throughout the whole of the section my ancestor thought was of interest.’
‘Well, you can quite understand him,’ Oleg said as he leaned towards the next aperture, which he tore himself away from with obvious reluctance. The curious Ataletta, who had obviously inherited this quality from her great-grandfather, immediately availed herself of the free place. In front of her eyes she saw a luxurious bathroom. In the centre behind clouds of steam, a certain figure could be seen, and you could very clearly see the figure belonged to the female sex.
‘By the way, there are four spy holes into the bathrooms. And I think that one of them, incidentally, is the men’s room!’
‘May well be. The layout of the rooms has changed a bit since my great-granddad’s time. Spy holes were made into all the bathrooms adjacent to the fraulein rooms, and into some of the guest room bathrooms, too. Not only spy holes, but in some places secret doorways, too. My great-granddad was not only a lover of secrets, but very loving in general, and my great-grandmother was very stern in this respect. Come on.’
Walking on a little way, the princess suddenly sidled up to one of the apertures and carefully examined the room beyond. Then she jerked a lever and stepped into the space opening up before her.
‘Where are you going?’ Oleg skipped after her quickly.
‘It’s my room. I chose it myself. No one but me knew about the secret passageway. My relatives didn’t share my passion for history but they didn’t stop me from exploring the palace, and sometimes it’s very useful to have an emergency exit. I need to grab some money and some things; I probably won’t be returning for a while, or maybe ever, if my dear uncle’s servants catch me.’
So saying, Ataletta rummaged in the cupboard distractedly. After waiting quarter of an hour, Oleg locked the door with the bolt and without getting undressed, lay down on the sofa nearby.
‘Wake me up when you’ve finished packing.’
And with those words he closed his eyes and, as though falling into an abyss, collapsed into the realm of Morpheus. The last time Oleg had slept was in his dorm before he’d set off to Denis’s birthday party. Since then, the impetuously swirling whirlpool of events over the last twenty-four hours had not allowed him the tiniest break. Now his body was insistently demanding its due.
Chapter Five
The Princess’s Bodyguard
He awoke when the sun was climbing to its zenith. On the sofa next to him Ataletta was snuffling in her sleep, rolled up into a little ball under a heap of shawls. Two huge bundles were standing next to her, obviously packed for her flight.
With a sigh, Oleg touched the princess’s shoulder. She half opened a sleep-heavy eyelid.
‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’ Despite the fact that no-one had broken into the room and snatched the sleepers, Oleg was not happy. Fancy falling asleep, and right in the den of the enemies on their tail! Yes, he’d been lucky this time, but you can’t always be lucky. Fortune is a fickle goddess and you can’t rely on her mercy.
‘I tried to!’ Ataletta informed him, rubbing her sleepy eyes. ‘But you were in a deep sleep and when I nudged you, you started waving around, shouting.
Oleg blushed. It was true, someone had tried to wake him up and he’d reacted like an angry bear.
The princess went on mercilessly: ‘And the guards are skulking about, so I was afraid they’d hear you …. And you were waving your claws around … so I decided it was better to let you sleep a while.’ She fell silent for a bit, then added: ‘And anyway, I really wanted to sleep myself.’
Oleg gave a deep sigh.
‘OK, let’s forget it. There’s a positive side to all of this. Now we won’t need to roam around the city at night looking for a place to sleep. Open your passageway!’ Oleg was overcome by an urgent desire to eat and drink.
After another sigh, Oleg turned to his inner organs with the request that they wait a little longer to fulfil their lawful demands. The answering rumble told him, ‘Well, OK then, that’s how it’ll have to be, but not for long, otherwise…’ Satisfied with the outcome of this diplomatic discussion, Oleg turned to the princess. She was waiting for him, standing by the door of the opened secret passageway.
‘Well, shall we be off?’
And without waiting for an answer, Oleg took a step forward, but the girl looked at him a
nd said, “Haven’t you forgotten something?”
Now what? Oleg searched the room and saw the bundles, which he had successfully managed to forget about.
‘I’ve packed a few things,’ said the princess, confirming his worst fears.
‘A few?’
‘Yes. Just the most indispensable, like you said. Two everyday over-tunics, three evening and three day costumes, one hunting costume, three sets of silk underwear.. .’
‘Yeah,’ Oleg drawled. In fact he’d expected something of the sort, but not in such an extreme form. ‘And might I enquire as to whether you’ve taken any money?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘And jewellery?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then let’s go.’
‘But what about my dresses?’ such heartfelt grief, such irrelevant sorrow, was in the little princess’s voice that even Oleg’s heart, hardened from dealing with his mother and sister, wavered for an instant. But only for an instant.
For a moment he imagined himself, hardly able to move, loaded up with bundles, crawling through the secret passage and captured by half-drunk guards; even worse he’d be forced to carry all that weight first up to the hotel, and then on their flight from her uncle and his guards. Once he took them, the princess, undoubtedly, would never want to part with her precious dresses…pity abandoned his heart. After all, “the donkey which has once been ridden will be ridden by the whole village,” and “people will always take advantage of you if you let them,” as they say.
‘We’re not taking the dresses. Well, you, of course, can take anything you like from here, but on three conditions: firstly, you will carry it all yourself. I need to have my hands free in case I have to fight. Secondly, it must all be carried so if need be you will easily be able to run without any significant loss of speed. And thirdly, you will have to carry it all in such a way that it won’t attract any attention. What sort of people go around your city with big bundles?’
The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) Page 7