by Bob Blink
“It’s impressive,” Jolan commented to his friend. “Clearly we are closer to the King. I can’t imagine this amount of effort being expended anywhere else.”
“Carta was built after the old capital was all but destroyed. The surviving King ordered the capital moved inland against the wishes of many. My father told me he had the Gardens built to show anyone with doubts that this was where the seat of power was to be.”
They were walking straight ahead, but not too much farther ahead the walkway split into a large oval that circled the inside of the Gardens. In the exact middle was a large park with large grassy areas and shade trees crossed by a number of narrower walking lanes. A small lake, fed by water from aqueducts, and pumped to the surface by unknown means provided a playground for a variety of birds. Branching off from the oval walkway that circled the Gardens were the paths that led to the many buildings.
“Do you know what the buildings are for?” Jolan asked.
“Only some of them. My father liked it here, and often brought me when he wanted to walk. Inside the compound I know they have the Royal Ballroom, where the King entertains. That is off to the right and over where the entrance that leads up to the castle branches off. You can see there is a secondary wall that is guarded. There is also the Parliament Building, where the ten Lords have their offices and where they meet to consider the duties they have been assigned by the King. Somewhere nearby is the Royal Theater, where shows are put on for foreign dignitaries or just for the King and his special guests. I know the building off to the left is the Royal Mint, but for many of the others I don’t know the function.”
“Where are we headed?”
“To the far end. You can see the two buildings situated nearly side-by-side. The one on the right is the People’s Court, the other the more formal Court I mentioned.”
I am impressed how orderly it all is, especially given the number of people here.”
“The disarray is hidden below.”
Not understanding, Jolan looked questioningly at his friend.
“The whole of the inner grounds have been built up, hiding that which lies beneath. The pathways on which we walk are made of interlocking blocks. They are fully a yard thick and overlay a second set of pathways below. All of the staff, the servants, the movement of supplies, including food for the royal feasts, travel through the pathways below. There is only one public entrance to the pathways, and that is at the far end. Opposite the courts are the public jails, just outside the walls. Adjacent to the jails are the guard’s quarters, and there is an entrance that passes through the guard’s courtyard and allows entry to the work areas. Prisoners are brought into the courts from below this way, and workers and goods are carefully screened before being allowed to enter.”
“There are only a few entrances then?”
“There is only the one service entrance below, and two public entrances into the upper area. I’m sure there are special entrances for the nobility, but those are unknown to me.”
“The effort to build this place must have been unbelievable.”
“Despite claims to the contrary, most believe the power was used heavily in the construction. At the time it was built the country was in ruins, the population recovering from the devastating Mage Wars. There would not have been manpower to spare for such a task. It has stood for nearly a thousand years, and it still looks almost new. That has to be a sign of the power.”
As they approached the Public Court, the lines of waiting applicants could be seen and the background rumble of hundreds of small conversations grew louder. Asari asked a few questions, and they were directed into one of the three lines, looking for all they could tell, identical to the two others.
For the next several hours they stood in place or moved slowly forward, sometimes advancing faster than the other lines, and at others seeming to fall behind, although one of the lines gradually slipped behind them. The lines had grown behind them, and now dozens of people waited behind them, but by noon, no more people arrived. They would have to know that coming this late would mean the courts would close before their turn would come.
“I hate standing,” Jolan complained while stretching his back. Asari had just returned and handed him a small packet of food and a wooden mug filled with tepid water.
“We will be entering the building soon. There are benches inside, and from what I learned from those I talked with while getting our food, we should have no problem getting heard today. They say the lines are moving uncommonly swiftly today. They say two of the three Lords are Lord Tonak and Lord Roth’bel. They are known to be brusque and severe in their handling of cases, not liking the duty. The third is Lord Torpol. His line is that one, which has been moving more slowly. I wish in a way we were in his line, because people say that he is more considerate and more concerned in seeing justice done. However, some of those in that line may not be heard this day.”
Inside, they were unable to hear the cases being presented, even when they were next in line. Applicants were escorted through heavy doors into the hearing chamber, so Jolan had no chance to see the system in operation before their turn came and they were escorted inside. There was no place to sit, and they found themselves standing behind a barrier at least fifteen feet away from Lord Tonak, who sat with a sour expression on his face.
“State the nature of your grievance,” demanded a tired looking clerk off to the side of the Lord’s table. He looked up at the two of them and frowned. “You appear to be here together. Is the grievance between the two of you, or with another party who is either unable or has elected not to be present? It is difficult to pursue a case if all parties are not present.”
Asari had made it clear Jolan was to be the speaker. He was too intimidated by the surroundings. Besides, Jolan knew best what he wanted to convey.
“There is no grievance, your Lordship,” Jolan said, uncertain if this was the proper approach, and looking at the clerk even though his words where meant for the presiding Lord. “We have information that needs to be heard by the members of the Parliament, or perhaps even the King.”
“Then why are you here?” demanded Lord Tonak, the rings on his fingers flashing as he waved his hands, his deep raspy voice clearly unhappy with this improper use of his courtroom. “This is not the Parliament. This is a place for people to bring their grievances. If you must address the Parliament, make arrangements to do so and be gone.”
“There seems to be no open avenue to obtain an audience with the members of the Parliament, and given the importance of the matter, we thought if you, as one of the esteemed Lords of the Parliament, were to be made aware of the issue, a way might be made to address the ten members of the Council.”
“That is not how these things are done,” huffed Lord Tonak. “All you need to do is have your letter of introduction along with a brief synopsis forwarded to the clerk. In due time, if the matter is deemed worthy, you will be contacted.”
“Sadly, we have no one in a position to provide a letter of introduction.”
“Of course you do. If you don’t know an appropriate noble, then have your local councilman submit one in your behalf.”
“There is no one that can perform this function for me. I am not from Seret.”
“You are from Angon then? Or perhaps Kimlelm? Why are you not bothering someone there?”
“I am not from anywhere in the Settled Lands,” Jolan stated. “That is part of the matter at hand.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where else would you be from? I’m beginning to think you are wasting this court’s time. To put this matter to rest, if no one can vouch for you, you can still submit a letter of intention to the Clerk of the Parliment along with a nominal fee, and it will be processed. It could take a bit longer, but in due time it will receive proper consideration.”
Jolan couldn’t help himself. “A small fee your Lordship?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Five or ten golds. Just something to prevent the submission of trifling matters and dis
tract the attention of the Council.”
Five or ten golds and an indeterminate wait. This was clearly a ploy the council used to sidetrack anything that didn’t come into their midsts by the approved means. He suspected following Lord Tonak’s advice would mean he and Asari would still be sitting and waiting when their funds ran out.
Jolan tried once again. “Your Lordship. Since we are already here, could we not just take a minute and present the matter. It would take less time than we have already spent, and I assure you the matter is of great importance to Seret.”
“You’re in a position to decide that, are you? You must be deaf. I’ve just explained how things work. There is a system my boy. You must follow it. Now, there are others waiting who are here for the proper reasons. I have wasted enough of my valuable time with you.”
“The wizards of Ale’ald are planning a war against the Settled Lands,” Jolan blurted out.
Lord Tonak looked at him with contempt. “Is that all? Rest assured, we are already aware of their intentions. Their desires haven’t changed in hundreds of years.”
“This time is different. They are seeking weapons from Earth, that could. . . .”
“Please. It’s always different. Now that’s about enough. Guards, escort them out and bring in the next petitioner.”
“Okay, that went well,” Jolan said when he and Asari found themselves outside the hearing room. “Looks like we are back to waiting for your uncle. I can hardly wait to address Lord Tonak again if we ever make it before the Ten.”
Dejected that his plan hadn’t helped, Asari nodded and followed Jolan out of the building. They had just started down the path away from the court when Jolan stopped and turned back. He could see the lines had all but disappeared while they were inside.
“Come on,” Jolan insisted. “I want to try something.”
The two friends hurried back into the building where they found the lines had been cleared. The guard saw them coming and said, “No more cases today. The final grievances are being heard. The courts are being closed early today. You’ll have to come back next week.”
Jolan had hoped there might be a way to slip in and try again with Lord Torpol whom Asari had said was more agreeable. It appeared it was too late for that. They were turning to leave when a formally dressed individual peered out of the doorway and started to address the guard.
“Oh, I thought everyone had gone. Is there one more to be heard?” he asked reasonably.
Quickly Jolan jumped at the opportunity. “We have an important matter for the Lords of Parliament,” he said. “It is more a matter of state than for the courts, but we were hoping to use the court as a means to bring it to your Lordship’s attention.”
Somewhat uncertain, Lord Torpol signaled him to continue. “I can spare a moment if there is something that needs to be heard. You really should follow protocol, but go ahead.”
Jolan was just preparing to speak when Lord Tonak strutted into the room. Seeing them talking with Lord Torpol he angrily shouted, “What are you still doing here. We already settled your issue. Lord Torpol, I told these idiots how things worked. I’ll not have them sneaking around my back and bothering another member of the council.”
He turned and signaled to the guard who had stepped back. “Here. See these two out of the building immediately. If they return, I want them detained.”
Lord Torpol looked pained, but cowed by his louder associate. He smiled weakly and said, “I’m sorry. Perhaps it would be best if you followed the established protocols for such matters.”
With that he slipped back into the chambers, closing the door firmly behind him before they could say anything.
* * * *
“It almost worked,” Asari said trying to calm Jolan who was obviously about to burst from frustration.
“Idiots!” Jolan exclaimed. “Just a few more minutes and we might have gotten somewhere. That guy is just like the bureaucrats back home. Didn’t want to be bothered.”
They continued walking and soon left the Royal Garden. While they were looking for a carriage, not an easy task at the end of the day when everyone was leaving, Jolan spotted a tavern across the way.
“I need a drink,” he told Asari, and headed that way.
Inside they split up, and while Asari located a place to sit, Jolan went up to the bar to buy their drinks. He was not patient enough at the moment to wait for the serving girl in a busy place like this. He paid for the drinks, and reached down to pick them up.
“They’re not all like that,” said a voice behind him.
Jolan turned to see a richly dressed man about his own age. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “Are you talking to me? We haven’t met.”
“Tomas,” the man answered. “I saw you in the court today. Pardon me for saying, but I don’t get the sense you could afford either the coin or the time to follow the route Tonak was suggesting. Quite truthfully, it’s usually a dead end anyway.”
“Did you follow us here?”
“Certainly not,” Tomas replied sounding a mite offended. “However badly things went for you, you ought to try and sit through a full day of Tonak. I need a few sips after a day of his court.”
So saying, he took a long hit on his tankard, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he lowered the drink.
“You should try again next week if it’s really important. Try and see Kimir or Yeren, but stay away from Athseringold. He’s another like Tonak.”
The fact the man had dropped the appellation wasn’t missed by Jolan.
“You speak as if you know them.”
“Actually I do. Lord Yeren is my father. I was in court because he wants me to gain some experience dealing with the legal concerns of the people. He has me attend sessions by each of the Ten so I can see the various styles at work. Without a doubt, Tonak is the worst. Cheers,” he added and started to walk away.
“Wait,” Jolan was quick to say, sensing an opportunity. “Would you have a minute to sit and talk. Maybe you can help.”
Tomas looked for a minute as if he was sorry that he’d brought the whole matter up, but finally nodded and followed Jolan over to where Asari sat.
“Are you a mage?” Tomas asked, noting the staff that Jolan kept with him. “That sort of looks like a mage’s staff. A bit ragged, but what I’ve been led to believe one looks like.”
“Maybe a mage in training,” Jolan offered. “I hardly qualify as a real mage.”
“You said something about a war earlier?” Tomas asked. “By the way, where is Earth? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
Jolan and Asari explained some of what they knew about Cheurt, the transition between worlds, and the technology difference that Jolan was convinced Cheurt was trying to import to swing the balance of power. By the time they had finished, Tomas was clearly uncomfortable.
“How many of these have you had?” he asked, indicating their empty tankards.
Jolan tried to think of something he could use to prove his point. He had expected to have to make a case to the mages in Cobalo, but they would have means to check his tale. Here in Carta, it was different. That was why the contacts Asari’s uncle had were so important. They had hoped to get the sponsor without having to go into their reasons in detail.
“I need to go,” Tomas said, abruptly pushing himself up from the table. Asari had headed off to the lavatory a few minutes before. “My suggestion is to try and see one of the other Lords. But you better have more to back up your tale. You won’t get far without it.”
Jolan followed Tomas outside, still trying to find a way to convince the man to introduce him to his father. They had walked, still talking toward the end of the tavern away from the crowd near the entrance while Tomas searched for a ride, and were crossing by an alleyway when six men stepped out behind them suddenly. Even as he noticed them, Jolan was struck soundly on the back of the head, and fell limply to the ground, his staff falling against the wall of the adjacent building where it lay unnoticed by his attackers
.
Returning to the common room and not seeing Jolan, Asari assumed he had followed Tomas outside. It had appeared the man was anxious to leave, their story not having much success convincing him, but Jolan wasn’t one to give up. Asari started to worry when he couldn’t find either of them outside, and walked from one end of the building to the other. He was about to give up and return inside for another look around when he spotted Jolan’s staff lying in the weeds in the alleyway. Hurriedly, he walked over and picked it up. It’s was Jolan’s alright. There wouldn’t be two with that same identifying crack in the wood. More than anything else could, the abandoned staff told him something very bad had happened to his friend.
Chapter 30
Jolan woke with a horrid headache, and when he reached back to touch his head he felt the hair matted and stuck to his scalp. He couldn’t figure out where he was, and he felt very disoriented. Jolan looked at his hand expecting to see mud or some such, and was surprised to see crumbled bits of dried blood. His blood he realized.
“I wouldn’t move too quickly,” Tomas said noticing he was awake. “They smacked you pretty hard. You’ve been out for some time.”
Suddenly he remembered going outside to follow Tomas and continue their talk before the man left and the opportunity was lost. He couldn’t remember anything after that. He wondered how long ago that had been. He could see that it was full daylight outside and it had been getting dark when he’d followed Tomas outside.
‘What happened?” he asked shakily, noting now that he was in some kind of cell. Tomas, who was in a similar cell across the way, seemed to be in much better shape.
“A group of men appear to have been waiting in the alley next to the tavern,” the man replied matter-of-factly. “They knocked you on the head and threatened me with knives, then moved us both back down the alley and into a carriage they had waiting. They dumped you not too gently on the floor, and they put a sack over my head and ordered me to lie down on top of you. Then three of them sat on the seat and drove the carriage away as casual as you please along with all the others leaving for the day. I don’t know where the rest of them went.”