White Mage

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 11

  Deep Words

  Winter swam through deep tunnels in the Triton ruin. Although much new attention was being paid to it, the deep halls had been a refuge for him for half his life. It was not hard to slip away, around a few turns, and have space, and privacy, to himself.

  His fingers traced along stone, both rough and smooth, and he navigated by feel. The mosaics were mostly abstract. There would have only been artificial light this deep in the palace when it was built. But his destination was a wide room in the deep underbelly, almost directly below where the restoration work was taking place. He was quite certain it had not been a store room. There were warrens of tunnels, more easily dug, for such things. The work seemed too fine as well for such a use. He was pretty sure it was for some ceremonial purpose, but more than that he couldn't tell.

  He reached it, finally, and swam into the open space. He removed a buoy from his belt, ignited the mage light within, and let it float up to the ceiling. He, himself, sank to the floor, landing lightly on his feet. The clumsy motion of the military grunts showed how new they were. Most expected living underwater to be like swimming. However, the magic that let them live here allowed them to, literally, breathe water. Without a lung full of air you didn't have the same buoyancy as when you swam. But you also did not have the same weight as when on land. Winter, however, had lived most of his life in these circumstances. It was all effortless to him. Plus he had some additional movement magic associated with his belt which he used sparingly.

  He unslung the red scroll case from his shoulders. In the weeks since it had arrived, people had asked him of it, since he kept it with him constantly. But he said nothing more than that it was a present from his mother. Now that he was unobserved, he opened it. He pulled from the case a bundle of four small rods. They were cleverly connected by chains which prevented them from separating. However they also did not obstruct the rods from being fit closely together. When so assembled it formed a solid shaft, as long as him, with a sharp spear point on the end.

  Winter warmed up by practicing ranged shots. He started first from a standing position, merely stabbing. High, low, and at various heights between. Then he did a step and thrust. Moving forward with legs together, or with a full step. Finally he did a full step forward, and thrust with complete extension, holding the spear by its very base with one hand at full length. It was an extreme shot and left him in position that was hard to recover from. But it could strike home at a distance over twice his height. He remembered clearly, in one of the few tournaments he had seen on leave one of the combatants had used this technique when her opponent thought he was out of range and won the match in a single shot. It had made a big impression on him at the time.

  He felt the blood flow within him and was ready to move on to different training. He held the base of the spear and twisted a hidden control he had found after some experimentation. The sharp bits of the spear point spread down the shaft until fully half of it was blade. At the same time some inner mechanism shifted the weight of the spear such that the balance point was much closer to the base. Small prongs popped out just below this point allowing him a firm grip on the end with two hands. But, most importantly, how the weapon interacted with the water changed.

  Stabbing weapons were the norm here because water produced a drag on everything, and slowed movement. A thrust presented a minimal surface in the direction of motion, and so was impeded least. A weapon that was swung to deliver a blow was close to useless. The drag was too high to be overcome by muscle and no blow was heavy enough to be telling. However, whatever changed in his magic spear also changed this factor. It moved through the water as if it was air.

  Holding it two handed he swung it forward, up, around and over in a great figure eight. He swept it up, high beneath him, and brought it down again in a great J-hook. He tried different combinations and motions. Although the range was not as great as his extended shot with the spear, he could recover and strike again. And the momentum was strong, and would strike tellingly when it connected.

  He concluded a move and stood, for a moment, breathing heavily. He then noticed a figure, standing on the balcony, watching him. “Hey!” he cried, alarmed. “Who?”

  “That was... beautiful,” said the girl.

  “Cindarina?” he said, less alarmed, but still concerned. “How did you find me?”

  She swam down to be on level with him, and looked at him calmly. “I have marked your comings and goings. I, too, have explored the ruins. Although not as thoroughly as you have. I followed my intuition, then your scent, and then your light.”

  He had returned the weapon to spear form, and was disassembling it without taking his eyes off of her. “It is not something I would wish others to know about,” he said quietly.

  “Naturally,” she said calmly. “And I will speak of it to no one.”

  The weapon was back in its case and slung over his shoulder. “It would not be good for anyone to see you alone with me.”

  “Not yet,” she agreed. “When we are done talking, I will leave by another means.”

  “There is nothing to say,” said Winter. “We will be missed.”

  “Not for a while yet,” she said, and made no move to leave. “I know I am not as fair in your eyes as the teacher Penelope is. I can tell by the way the students look to her that she is considered beautiful. But I had hoped for kinder words from you when there were not minds bent on evil to overhear.”

  Winter snorted a laugh. Then he said gently. “Your eyes do not know surface ways. Penny is counted an unlovely specimen of an unlovely race on the surface. The deference you see paid to her is because she walks straight and speaks with a commanding voice. It is not because of her looks. I have lived nearly my whole life under the sea, yet still so alien are the ways here that neither can I determine who amongst your folk is fair and who is not. I can only judge based on words and deeds.”

  “Have I then disparaged you? Or shorted you?” she asked, confused.

  “Never” he said. “You are the only one of all I have known here who has not.” He held up his hand. “That is precious to me. More than I can say. So much so that I would not put it to the test. If you were to be mocked for it, and repented of it, then I would have no one.”

  Cindaria sighed deeply. “I see,” she said simply. “I thank you, at least, for your explanation.”

  “Well, it may not always be so,” he said, trying to be more cheerful. “Things may be changing. They looked dark for a while, but I think the court is seeing that the surface can bring more than death to the depths.”

  She did not smile. “I fear not,” she said.

  Winter looked upon her, and saw she was serious, not woeful. “I guess I'm missing something.”

  “The dark words have not gone away. They are just spoken now in dark rooms, behind closed doors. And only amongst those who feel the same.” She shook her head. “The gods grow restless and will move before the season is out.”

  He looked surprised. “How do you know such things?”

  She smiled slightly. “Because those whose hearts are filled with their own arrogance deign not to see those who wait upon them. They are invisible to them and they forget not to speak before them. While those whose hearts are filled with kindness see those who wait upon them, converse with them, and learn what was thought to be in confidence.”

  Winter stroked his chin. “These are grim tidings.” He looked up at her. “You have promised to tell no one of what you have seen here. Do you require me to promise to tell no one of what I have heard here?”

  “If I asked, would you?” she challenged him.

  “If you asked, I would say nothing,” he answered.

  “Even if it put your beloved mother, who gave you this weapon, in peril?”

  He took a deep breath, and let it out. “I was serious when I said that your kindness to me is precious to me. How much more would I then value your trust?” He shook his head. “My mother knows of many
things. I would hope she knows of this too.”

  “I appreciate your trust,” she said. “But on such an important matter, I would not have told you if I was going to ask you to hold it to yourself.”

  He looked up, surprised. “But, then, why? Why tell me and put your own people in peril?”

  She smiled. “Where do you stand?” She lifted her arms. “This is a mighty edifice that my people built of old. We were once the rulers, not the ruled. It has been scorned for lifetimes. And, suddenly, these surface dwellers we fear come, and praise them. The heads of my people lift in pride. It has been a long time and it is good to see that.”

  “You cannot be thinking of taking our side?” Winter said, alarmed. “Whatever way it goes, the surface cares little for here even if your rose against our enemies. They would slaughter you.”

  “No, Winter. Alas no.” She shook her head sadly. “My people are not, yet, so bold as to even be aware of how their hearts are leaning. I speak for no one. There is no talk of that sort amongst us.” She smiled slyly. “We may not go to war against them, but it may be that they may not go to war as strong or as quickly as they might.”

  “Do not put yourself in peril,” said Winter. “The surface has soldiers enough.”

  “There is no peril,” she smiled wryly. “Those who look down on us do not expect much of us. We just have to fulfill those expectations.”

  Winter smiled back. “That is most noble of you.”

  “But, may I ask one thing of you?” Cindarina said.

  “How could I refuse?” said Winter. “You are offering me an ear in the enemy of my people's court.”

  “Take me with you on your next trip to the surface,” she said.

  Winter stared, stunned. “That's... I don't know...” He fell silent. She turned away disappointed. “No,” said Winter. “Wait. I am thinking.” He clenched his hands, and rubbed his chin. Then his forehead.

  “I fear to make you my guest. It would bring too much ill will upon you,” he said. “But, you have been a regular student at Penny's classes. And I believe she thinks well of you. I will have a word with her. As Atlantica has been generous to allow her to bring students here, it would only be fitting for her to return the favor and to offer to bring Charonia and some of his students a while to study at her academy. You would certainly be amongst them.”

  She smiled widely. “Well you have learned the ways of court, Winter. Your mastery of diplomacy will serve you well.”

  He bowed low to her. “At least the abuse has been good for something, then.”

  ARC 2