Four hours later, having listened with a show of exemplary attention to the whole genealogy of Baron Vatell, Ataletta’s godfather’s western neighbour, Oleg established certain indisputable truths for himself:
Firstly, the princess had had excellent teachers;
Secondly, the princess was endowed with a magnificent memory;
Thirdly, the princess of Fenrian was a true woman, in other words, extremely fond of chatting;
And fourthly, he, Oleg Vladimirovich Davidov, acting demon in the world of Elltyan by the will of fate and Heliona, would never again quiz the above-mentioned princess, thereby ensuring the health of his good sense and protecting his ears.
The hirelings, sniggering, watched his torment and were in no hurry to come to his rescue. No one wanted to become the next victim of Ataletta’s lectures.
Luckily, after another hour on the road, the walls of the city Oleg now knew was called Mozes came into view. He also possessed the priceless knowledge of the number of inhabitants in the city, their average annual income, the level of taxation extracted from them, the genealogy of the current burgomeister, his partialities, his official annual income (his earnings from bribes increased the official figure almost fivefold) and masses of other information which had obviously cost no little effort on the part of the Fenrian spies.
Oleg’s salvation came in the form of the city gatekeepers demanding the entry toll. To their delight Oleg paid without bargaining even though the price was obviously inflated. The salvation of his good sense, he reckoned, was worth it.
They stayed at a tavern called “The Wretched Cockerel”, where Oleg was unpleasantly impressed by the high prices. The hirelings, however, assured him everything was in order. One gold piece per person per night, full board and lodging, was a crazy sum for Fenrian, all but economically and politically isolated and with no gold mines of its own, but a normal price for a respectable hotel in a flourishing mercantile republic. Once he’d had a tasty supper and a good night’s sleep on a comfy bed with clean sheets, Oleg came to terms with the money he’d paid out for such pleasures, and the next morning the small party set out once again.
Now that there was no longer any need to hide from pursuers, they often stopped for a nap and to buy provisions in the clean and tidy towns and villages along the road. The role of leadership somehow transferred unnoticed to Kendir as he had been in Irinia more than once and knew his way around the local customs and dialects. It was he who talked with the tavern keepers and the many gate keepers always demanding tolls to walk or ride through the places they “guarded”.
Kendir was assisted by Ataletta who had a very deep, if purely theoretical, knowledge of Irinia, and passed herself off as the daughter of one of the local oligarchs, and also by Oleg, who knew practically nothing but was endowed with a magically obtained superb understanding of the language.
***
After a week of smooth travelling, they crossed the border between the commercial republic and the first of the Free Baronies. Everything changed at once. The broad highway where each stone was well-cared for disappeared. In its stead there was a narrow road full of potholes which had obviously last been repaired in the far distant past when Elves lived side by side with people and had as yet no idea of abandoning young Elltyan. Riding along, Oleg wished the ancient road was in a museum, and certainly not under the hooves of his steed. The horse was in complete agreement with his rider, preferring to proceed through the thick and silky grassy verges rather than on the crumbling mix of mud and stones which the Baronies called a road. The lively villages gave way to sullen hamlets whose inhabitants scowled, and reluctantly refused to sell provisions, citing their lord’s prohibition.
In one such hamlet, constables rode in while Oleg was trying to buy food; a mean and cowardly group, little better than ruffians, they tried to arrest Oleg’s party. Greedily eyeing Oleg’s purse and Ataletta’s rich jewellery, the local village chief—acting as head of the garrison, judge and tax collector - declared they were “under arrest for carrying weapons without the permission of our lord, his Grace Baron von Kristel.” A few moments after this blatant attempt at legalized thievery, his deputy, together with the remnants of the “garrison” who had not fled, apologised long and humbly in front of the “lord magicians” and their guards while sullen peasants swept up what was left of the previous chief--Oleg had sent a fireball at him, enraged by his impudence. The remnants of the garrison– three “warriors” who were too obese to make a quick retreat like their...less burdened…compatriots– nodded furiously, in complete agreement with their new boss.
In that hamlet, finally, the people agreed to sell them food. One of the merchants, as he nimbly measured out buckwheat grains, whispered to Oleg, ‘Thank you. That village chief was a terrible brute. You’d do better to ride around our lord’s castle. He has a penchant for gold and they say that few of the wealthy travellers who spend the night in his castle leave there in the morning.’ Thanking his informant with a slight nod, Oleg refused the change. Once they’d ridden out of the hamlet, he shared his apprehension with his fellow travellers.
Ataletta, speaking for all of them, said: ‘It’s a blatant violation of all the laws and international regulations of Oikumenas, and I hope it is not true. But my godfather said that one of the merchant caravans he’d sent completely disappeared without a trace as it passed through Kristel’s barony. The baron put it down to bandits and I sincerely want to believe that that is exactly what happened. But nevertheless, it seems to me that we could bend the rules of etiquette a little and not inform the baron of our visit to his lands.’
‘Prettily put,’ said Oleg with a smile. ‘I’ve no burning desire to see the castle of this scoundrel. In other words, we’re unanimous – we’ll give this castle a wide berth.’
Unfortunately, they were not able to realize their plan completely. Apparently the man who had suddenly come to power as deputy after Oleg had reduced the previous chief to ashes had hastened to inform the baron of the unusual travellers. Still one day’s ride from the castle, Oleg’s group ran into a unit of the baron’s guards, fifty strong, headed by a dapper lieutenant.
The lieutenant rode out to meet them, enquired as to their names and then introduced himself as Otto von Buervil. He had come, he announced most cordially, to invite them to visit the hospitable Baron von Kristel. He himself would accompany them, sheltering them from any possible bandit raids, which was why such a large unit of guards was necessary.
Using no less polite phraseology, Oleg declined such a kind offer, citing lack of time as the reason.
The lieutenant, positively dripping with apologies, informed them that the baron’s thirst for company was so great that he, Otto von Buervil, had received strict orders to bring the travellers before his Grace the baron and in order to please his baron, he would be prepared to insist, using his patrol as a persuasive argument.
Having eyed the guards and noticed neither archers nor arbalesters, Oleg courteously announced that anyone who tried to force him to do anything risked spending the rest of his days in a bog hunting flies and mosquitoes and croaking loudly on rainy days.
On hearing this, the lieutenant laughed derisively. Then he announced that turning a person into a frog, a toad or any other such small beast was not within the power of even the greatest elfin sorcerer Geduel. If the little whipper-snapper of a wizard standing in front of him considered himself to be more powerful, then let him try to turn the lieutenant of the baron’s guard, Otto von Buervil, into a frog, but should he fail, Oleg would suffer accordingly.
Oleg smiled then, and with a wave of his hand, turned him into a frog.
The response was tremendous. It was as though the fifty guards, which only a minute earlier had been standing like a threatening wall behind their commander, was scattered by the wind. The terrified soldiers took flight at such a pace that several of them left their boots standing on the road.
However, his own companions did not remain indifferent to O
leg’s deed. As soon as they had picked up their jaws, they hurled themselves at Oleg, demanding an explanation. Clairene was particularly angry, no doubt irked by the fact that “a powerful magician had been riding beside them but all the while pretended not to know anything and tried to coax a poor charm-castor’s secrets out of her.” Oleg burst out laughing, disclosing the secret of his conjuring trick. In fact all he had done was to paralyze the lieutenant with a simple little incantation which Viss had taught him, and then throw a semblance over him, using the very same spell Clairene had taught him. That is how the “incredible transformation” happened.
Having discovered his secret, Clairene shook her head for a long time, saying ‘…and that’s how legends are born…’ and then asked him to teach her the incantation of paralysis and show her the sequence of adding it to the frog semblance, if possible transforming it into that of the much less energy-consuming billy goat. Oleg shared his science with pleasure.
Clairene cast a sleep charm over the lieutenant, which should dissipate in a month’s time when the travellers would have long since left the confines of the barony. Under hypnosis, they filled the lieutenant with false memories of a life in the bog and the pleasant taste of passing mosquitoes, and also put a charm to keep predatory beasts away, thus, as the sleep she conjured up was much closer to anabiosis (i.e. suspended animation, please check your dictionary), the lieutenant was in no danger. Covering him with branches, they went on their way.
Thanks to the fame of the menacing magician and his retinue, Oleg’s small party flew along, arousing the respect of the farmers and the total absence of trouble from those in power.
Admiring the castle, to which they had been so insistently invited, from a distance, the harmonious company crossed the border of the Kristel barony and went on.
Under the horses hooves lay the small Barony of Brice, the last one before the long-awaited Barony of Maidell. Customs soon loomed into view, a log construction just off the verge and a massive plank on trestles blocking the road.
‘Looks as though it’s time for the next fair here in Brice,’ Ataletta said worriedly.
‘Could that pose a problem for us?’
‘No, it might just delay us a bit. Now hoards of people are going to be pouring in. They’ll be jams on the roads, we won’t be able to pass by nor ride through…’
It was indeed crowded in front of customs. Olaf, who tried to jump the queue, was soundly sworn at, by both the farmers queuing in front of him and by the customs official himself, a tired man of about forty in a guard’s uniform with the barony’s coat of arms.
‘Well what did you do that for,’ Oleg said unkindly. It should be said that he had consumed an exaggerated amount of the local wine the evening before and now he had a bad headache, his mood hovering between “really foul” and “better kill the lot of them”. ‘Let me handle this.’ And with these words he waved his hands a few times while muttering a spell.
The next moment the sleepy silence of the late morning was broken by cries filled with horror:
‘A monster!’
‘A shapeshifter!’
‘Help!’
‘Save yourselves!’
The queue ran off in different directions. Throwing down their goods and shoving each other, people fled in panic. The road emptied in less than a couple of minutes.
‘What was that?’ Ataletta asked, bewildered.
‘If I’m not mistaken, Arioch used some sort of dark magic spell for calling horror,’ Clairene replied with a disapproving look at Oleg.
‘Aha. A simple little illusion Viss taught me. Each of them thought that the person next to them had turned into a monster and was about to attack them. So the road is clear and we can go on.’
‘But why did you do it?’ The princess’s voice was full of bitterness. ‘They hadn’t attacked us! And now you’ve frightened the farmers, they’ve lost their wares and they might have trampled someone in the stampede. What did you do it for?’
‘I had to clear the road.’ It was beginning to dawn on Oleg that he hadn’t acted at all nicely.
Without answering, Ataletta spurred her horse on, quietly whispering as she rode past him: ‘You’re a demon after all, and I was beginning to forget it.’
Perplexed, Oleg rode after her. He thought hard for some time about what the princess said. Then some other words came to him: “... if you assume your demonic form for long enough, and people believe that you are in fact a demon, then you will be one.” He remembered a few episodes from his journey. The amazed look of the bandit gang leader and his whisper: “And I thought you were human” when he handed him over to the liches; the face of the village chief who had tried to arrest them and was instantly reduced to ash by the fireball; the cruel joke he’d played on the lieutenant, and now today’s incident with the farmers, whose only crime was getting in his way.
He remembered his former self—a kind-hearted student, lover of beer and pretty girls--and when he remembered that, he realized how little was left of him. Although… beer and girls, now that was something very good no matter how your character changed. But still, how easily he killed now; and without experiencing any particular emotion whatsoever. Although no, he did feel. He brought all those incidents back to mind again. Yes. It’s just that those feelings weren’t really anything like human ones. They were far more reminiscent of the sensations Heliona had called “feelings of a true demon of the dark circle,” the cruel glee at a wilfully harmed enemy and hatred towards those who dared to contradict him…’ It all stemmed from there,’ Oleg suddenly realized with amazement. ‘But when was it I changed? When did I start to think like a demon? Digging deeper into his memories, he found the answer to that question, too. After his visit to Oner, Oleg had stopped feeling repulsion at killing. Evidently, being in the skin of a demon for a long time and perhaps also the incredible stress he’d been under when he sang the incantations had taken their toll.
He should try to use his demonic body as rarely as possible, even partially. And he needed to watch his actions so as not to allow such outbursts as reducing the village chief to ashes. And get to Valensia as quickly as possible to study to be a magician. Otherwise he could become a demon and not even notice it! And there it was again: that kind of thought didn’t arouse the same repulsion as before.
Busy with his frightening thoughts, he paid no attention to Ataletta who had been riding next to him for some time, trying to attract his attention. She finally succeeded.
‘Hey, Arioch! Look!’
‘What is it?’
‘We’re coming to Brice. There’s a fair going on and it would be better for us to make a detour, unless of course you intend to chase away the whole town like you did those hapless villagers.’
‘Yeah, of course, we’ll go round. What’s the problem?’
‘The problem is that we’re almost through the gates! What’s the matter with you?’
‘I was thinking. You know, I was really in the wrong to jump at those hapless farmers like that. Thank you for pointing it out to me.’
‘You’re always welcome,’ said the princess, dumbstruck.
***
‘Well, you’re almost home now,’ Oleg announced when they had ridden up to the border of the Maidell Barony. A small group of guards was coming towards them, evidently a border unit.
To their menacing cry of “Who goes there?” Ataletta rode out in front.
‘It is I, Ataletta Kreghist, Princess of Fenrian, with my retinue. I am bound for Baron Maidell. I would ask you to accompany us and inform the baron.’
They were surrounded at once. One of the guards looked into the princess’s face for a long time and then nodded: ‘It’s her, Captain,’ he said, turning to the commander. ‘I saw the princess when I was in the baron’s retinue and he was visiting Velmint.’
Without replying, the captain trotted up to Ataletta.
‘How can we serve you, Your Highness?’ he said.
‘I have already said that I
request you to accompany me to the castle and to send someone to let the baron know,’ she answered.
‘Vinter!’ the captain shouted loudly. ‘Go on, nip over to his Grace and tell him about Her Highness’s arrival. The rest of you, fall into guard formation!’
One of the guards turned his horse around and bounded back along the road at a gallop. The others, surrounding Oleg’s small party, set off.
On their way to the castle they were met by the lord of the city himself. Baron Otto von Maidell, free baron and lord of the richest and most powerful of the Iron Baronies, good friend and agent of Freidrich IV and godfather to his daughter, was a tall, corpulent man who looked around forty.
‘Ata, my dear, how did you manage to escape?’ was his first question after the customary greeting rituals.
‘By a miracle, for which we must thank him,’ and she nodded towards Oleg.
‘I thank you, lir,’ the baron said, carefully looking Oleg over. ‘To whom do I owe the salvation of my goddaughter? And how may I reward him for his courage?’
‘My name is Arioch. I am a wandering minstrel and hunter of the Unclean, and you owe me nothing. But I would like to rest for a day or two before continuing on my way and I would be glad if you could recommend a good hotel.’
‘Not another word; my castle is at your disposal! I cannot allow the saviour of my friend and lord’s daughter to spend the night in some hotel!’
…And that evening there was a feast. It seemed that the baron did genuinely love Ataletta and celebrated her arrival with great pomp and circumstance.
Seated at the table for honoured guests, separated from the rest of the festival hall by a partition, Oleg thought hard. Once he had paid the hirelings, giving each of them a very handsome bonus on top of the agreed sum (they had earned it) he didn’t have that much money left. And Oleg still wanted to get himself a better quality weapon – thanks to the local market he’d seen some very handsome examples. Besides, he would need to buy a good chainmail as he intended to continue to play the role of an Imperial Hunter. That would leave him with a few pennies, barely enough to get to the Empire of Trir. In order to get to Valensia where the Academy was, he would have to cross a third of the empire, the largest state Oikumena.
The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) Page 21