White Mage

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 5

  Entertainment

  Devonshire walked the darkening streets. On a whim she passed by the gate district. It was the nearest thing they had here to a wharf. She lingered outside one of the taverns for a while, listening to the rough merriment overflowing from inside. However her mind drifted to souls and containment fields and barriers between past lives. She was unable to lose herself. Sighing, she moved on.

  She passed on through the square and found herself in the military quarters. There was always a large army presence these days. Most mundane resistance had ceased, and with deployment through the gates the physical location of the armies was not as relevant. So here was as good a place as any to station troops. As a colony, there was no local populace to complain and the proximity to the academy helped with equipment and training.

  There was a general bustle of soldiers on duty, or playing dice in doorways. She contemplated joining a game. After watching for a while they noticed her. “Magister Devonshire!” one cried in delight. “To hell and back!” cried another. “A wineskin! A wineskin for the scourge of Halphas!”

  She drank politely, and let them reminisce briefly about the campaign to the demon lands. Then she made her excuses and moved on. She pulled her cloak about her and drew up the hood. Out of options she went, resignedly to The Russet Monster's Rest, the tavern she lived above.

  She passed through the door, into the light and noise. Several people looked up, but most went back to their drinks. Her face was a familiar sight here and the usual patrons respected her privacy when she wasn't mixing. There was a long terrace at the back of the room along the rising hill. The corner table at the end was reserved for her, and the other owners of the tavern. As she approached though, she saw someone was already there.

  “Coral!” she cried. “It's been a long time since I've seen you in this place. I nearly didn't recognize you without all the plumes and falderal.”

  A man with fine features sat there and grinned back at her. He wore a close cut tunic of muted blue and white, a floppy red hat not quite covering his elfin ears. His eyes, however, were not quite as almond shaped as her own, showing he was of mixed blood. “The Queen's Champion does get the occasional night off,” he said. “When all the dragons have been slain and the derring's do'ed.”

  “Looking for a little entertainment?” she asked huskily, bending over suggestively as she sat next to him.

  “Well, ahem,” he said, in mock embarrassment. “I'm not sure it is the example my Queen would like to see me set, but I could hardly leave a maiden in distress!”

  “Pah,” said Devonshire. “I gave up being a maiden a long time ago.” One of the staff arrived with a tankard and plate. She nodded in thanks. “Seems a scarce commodity, these days.”

  “Which? Maidenhood or entertainment?” asked Coral, mischievously.

  She sipped her drink. “Hah. I'm just in a funny mood. Had Lilly asking me about how she should entertain herself.”

  Coral sputtered into his drink. “I hope to the gods that you didn't give a straight answer! The poor creature wouldn't know an innuendo if it slapped her in the face.”

  “She's an odd fish,” said Devonshire. “But I'm not cruel. She can't help her abusive upbringing.” Then, after a moment, “Although, I'm not sure we treat her any better.”

  “She has a Soul now,” said Coral. “Borrowed though it may be. Remember I was named judge for that decision. The court was satisfied of her adult competency. She has free will. Don't add more guilt to your plate than you need. You probably work the same hours.”

  “Touché,” she said. “Yeah, but talking of it all got me worked up looking for a bit of entertainment myself.”

  Coral held up his hands. “Don't let me stop you! The last thing I want to do is get between Ole' Dev and some 'entertainment'.”

  She grimaced and took another sip of her beer. “Don't worry about it. I'm just not... in the mood.”

  “That truly is a national emergency!” laughed Coral. But he stilled it when he saw she was serious. “Working too hard?”

  “It's not just that,” she said. “The simple pleasures are just too... simple. And anything else, well, I'm not just 'Ole Dev' anymore. People know me. People look up to me. All that 'Order of the Valiant' crap. Six Orcs in a bathhouse just isn't on the cards anymore.”

  Coral smiled wryly. “It's tough growing up.” Devonshire gave him a dirty look. “Actually you don't sound unlike the Queen. Always fretting and angsting over the life she's left behind, what she can't do anymore, and what people will think of her if she does.”

  “I guess I should count myself lucky,” said Devonshire. “At least I can still take a drink in a tavern.” She poked at the stew she had been brought. “I thought it would all be over when we took Romitu. Then I thought it would be over when we defeated the Republicans. Now we've been to hell and back and it's still not over.”

  “I'm not sure it ever will be,” said Coral.

  “Don't be so fatalist,” said Devonshire. “We war with the gods. Either we die and we're done, or we win and we're done. It's got to end sometime. Just when?”

  Coral laughed. “I am being an optimist. I'm assuming we go on winning. Only you are forgetting our friends the Grey Elves. According to them we still have 2000 odd years before the world is supposed to end. Unless, of course, we do better than they think, and then they have something else in mind for us.”

  Devonshire sighed deeply. “I hate that.”

  “You hate what in particular?” asked Coral.

  “I'm an Elf. I'm used to lording the 'long view' over other people. How they think too much in the 'now' and the 'today'.” She pointed her finger at him. “You know what I mean, you're a half-blood.” Coral shrugged. “And then this Grey Elf comes along, revealing some ten thousand year plan with intricate gears and wheels intermeshing and subtleties of moonlight. Bastard.”

  “Serves you right,” said Coral, popping an olive into his mouth. “Oh, right!” he said, hurrying to spit out the pit. “Speaking of 'bastard', I almost forgot. I have a message for you!”

  “What's he done now?” asked Devonshire, warily.

  “What? Huh?” Coral looked confused. “He hasn't done anything. It's just a message. He knew you wouldn't take it from him personally.”

  Devonshire looked confused in her turn. “Why couldn't my own son give me a message?”

  “No, no,” said Coral. “Wrong bastard! And besides,” he chided her, “I wouldn't make a joke like that.”

  “Fair enough,” said Devonshire. “So what other bastard are we talking about?”

  “Jack,” said Coral.

  Devonshire put down her tankard. “He's right. I don't want to hear anything from that traitorous scum.”

  “We all make mistakes,” said Coral, gently.

  “Seldom of that magnitude,” Devonshire said flatly.

  “He acknowledges the mistake and is working his Dwarven butt off trying to remedy it. And do his day job at the same time,” said Coral.

  “Can we assume that there is nothing you can say that will make me think well of him.” Devonshire stated.

  Coral winked at her. “It won't stop me trying. He benefits the Empire, and that's good enough for me.”

  “So what's the message,” said Devonshire.

  “He wants to help,” said Coral, shrugging.

  “Help?” said Devonshire, unbelieving. “He's been against reincarnation from the get-go. Thinks it's a waste of time. A distraction. He's been continually pouring poison in The Queen's ear against it. And now he wants to help?”

  Coral held up a finger. “I don't think he's been that adversarial. Just remember: he's a Dwarf. He was against reincarnation because it was expensive and he saw no immediate benefit from it. Now he's in favor of it because he sees it is the only way to reduce the cost of maintaining the rescued souls from Halphas. It's pretty simple.”

  “Simple when morality doesn't come into it at all,” growled Devonshir
e.

  “Morality is relative. Cost-benefit analysis is objective,” said Coral.

  “Demara would have your ear for that,” said Devonshire.

  Coral laughed. “I'm just channeling my inner Dwarf.” He picked up another olive and Devonshire went back to her drink.

  “It's an empty offer,” she said. “What could he do, anyway? This is mage territory. He can barely curl his beard.”

  “Think of it as rehabilitation,” said Coral. “Some task, any task, would encourage him to listen to you more. What is there you aren't doing because you're doing so much research?”

  She stroked her chin and thought. “I don't know. Drinking. Flirting. Relaxing. Sleeping. Nothing he could do for me.”

  “How about investments? Land speculation? Assassinations?” Coral shrugged. “I'm just trying to think of something that plays to his strengths.”

  “I don't know. I don't care,” she said forcefully. “I've no interest in coddling him.”

  “But I do,” said Coral. “I want to keep him productive.”

  “Then you think of something,” said Devonshire. “Give him some reply and say it came from me. Make something up.”

  Coral raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure you trust me with that?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Swear by the Queen's honor, oh Champion, and I'll trust you.”

  “Very well, Bearer of the Rose of Courage,” said Coral with a hint of a smile. “By the Queen's Honor I shall deliver such a message that will be in your interest and cause no one embarrassment.”

  “Except Greywind,” added Devonshire.

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Coral.

  “You have my leave to embarrass Greywind,” she clarified.

  “I see,” said Coral. “That shouldn't be too hard.”

  “Good,” said Devonshire. “I want to get something entertaining out of this.”