Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2)

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Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2) Page 4

by Craig Alanson


  “How do you know?” Ariana asked hopefully, expecting that a powerful wizard had ways of knowing things.

  “Highness, it is merely a feeling I have, nothing more,” he shook his head sorrowfully. “I tried to think what I would have done, at Koren’s age. If he sought passage on a ship, that would carry him away most quickly; and a ship could carry him very far away. Also, although he does not know this, the water of the sea has an effect of dampening somewhat the senses of a wizard. Highness, when I became aware that Koren had,” he had been about to say ‘fled for his life’, “left us, I searched for him. As you know, I was still weak then,” from his battle with enemy wizards and then chasing an assassin across the palace rooftops. “So, my ability to project my senses were not at their greatest. Still, if he had been anywhere within my reach, I should have been able to sense something. Even aided by my fellows,” Paedris meant the wizards would had answered his call and gathered in Linden, “I could not detect any trace of Koren. Traveling by land, he should have still been within my reach. Traveling by sea, where my senses are not so keen, he could have gone far beyond my reach. Also,” the court wizard added with a wry smile, “a young man leaving home, who is seeking a fresh start and perhaps a bit of adventure, might very likely choose the sea. Young men,” he said with another wink, “are drawn to adventure, whether they understand it or not.”

  That remark drew a smile from the princess. “Young women may seek adventure also, Lord Salva.”

  “Yes,” Paedris said quickly. “Our society is, perhaps, not as welcoming for young ladies traveling on their own. Highness-”

  “Please, call me Ariana. I am not yet anyone’s queen.”

  “Er, yes, Ariana,” Paedris responded uncomfortably. He had known the girl since she was an infant, but she had not been merely ‘Ariana’ to him since the day her father died. The day she became Tarador’s ruler-in-waiting.

  Ariana looked back at the fire. “If he went by ship, then he could be-”

  “Anywhere.” Paedris finished her thought. “Yes. The South Sea is vast.” It had been vast when he crossed the sea, many years ago, on his voyage from his homeland of Estada to Tarador. “Highness,” he wished to change the subject. “You mentioned that you are not yet queen. I regret to report that I have searched the royal archives, and I do not see any legal means of you becoming queen before your sixteenth birthday.”

  “I must. I must,” the crown princess insisted. “The enemy is at our gates, and my mother does nothing.”

  Paedris winced, torn between what he knew as the court wizard, and not wanting to encourage strife between mother and daughter. Ariana and Carlana, daughter and mother, crown princess and Regent, were not speaking to each other. The relationship between the two had become strained to the breaking point when Ariana had learned the truth about Koren; learned that her mother had known the truth all along. Her mother had known Koren was a wizard, a vulnerable young wizard, and as Regent she had done little to protect the young man. Worse, it had been Carlana falsely and very publically accusing Koren of being a jinx that caused him to flee the castle. To flee the place that he had come to think of as his home. Paedris had explained to Ariana that the deception surrounding Koren was the fault of Paedris, and Paedris alone, but the princess had been beyond listening at that point. When the enemy attacked across the border, and the only response of the Regent had been to pull the Royal Army back, Ariana had entirely stopped speaking with her mother. Now, the two communicated only through servants and written notes. Paedris took a sip of tea before answering. “Must? There is a difference between should and could, Your Highness. You know that I fully support you taking the throne sooner than your sixteenth birthday. Soon. Now, if possible. I do not see that it is possible.”

  “No law is perfect,” Ariana spoke from experience. “There must be a way.”

  “It pains me to say, but at this point, I believe you need to consult an expert on the law. An attorney. I can make inquiries to find someone discrete,” Paedris frowned. An attorney who was discrete, and also reckless. An attorney willing to take the crown princess as a client, and risk incurring the wrath of Tarador’s current ruler. If the attorney failed to find a way around the law, he or she could be charged with treason. “Someone-”

  “No.” Ariana shook her head. Then, to the surprise of Paedris, she smiled. “I know a legal expert.”

  “Cap’n wants everyone on deck,” Alfonze announced while rapping his knuckles on the timbers overhead.

  Koren blinked sleep out of his eyes; he had been taking a rather pleasant nap in his gently swaying hammock, as the Lady Hildegard rested at anchor. All the ports were open, and a tropical breeze wafted through the lower deck, which was nicely shaded from the hot afternoon sun of the South Isles.

  “Did he say why?” Renten asked with a yawn. Many of the crew had been sleeping during the hottest part of the day, a practice that their Estadan crewmate Diergo called a ‘siesta’. Renten didn’t care what it was called, he enjoyed a break after lunch. Besides, there wasn’t much to do aboard the ship, nor had there been for the past eight days. When they reached Antigura, where the ship was now moored in that island’s harbor, they had endured several days of hard labor to unload their cargo. Sometimes the back-breaking work of unloading was immediately followed by loading new cargo in the ship’s holds; sometimes there were a few days of leisure ashore, when the crew could relax and spend their money in taverns or other places of amusement that were only too happy to take a foolish sailor’s hard-earned coins. But this time, it had been eight days since the ship’s holds had been emptied from their previous trip, and no cargo was waiting to be loaded. In the excellent harbor of Antigura, many ships swung idly at anchor, waiting for contracts to carry goods, and it was getting to the point where many of the crews had begun to grumble. Merchant sailors were not paid if there was no cargo to carry.

  “No,” Alfonze scoffed. “Captain Reed doesn’t confide in me, nor you, you lazy lout. Now get on deck, and make it quick.”

  Koren joined the somewhat bleary-eyed group of sailors who made their way through the lower deck to the hatchway, and up to the ship’s main deck. Usually, the Lady Hildegard had some cargo lashed to the deck; crates or barrels that could stand being exposed to the weather, and would not fit in the cargo holds. Now, the deck was empty of anything that was not necessary to make the ship move. While they were idle, Koren had been practicing tying knots, and learning how to maneuver the ship. How to set what sails in a particular wind, how to adjust sails when the ship was going with, crosswise to or against the wind. Koren’s head was spinning with terms like reach and run and tacking and beating and wearing, and he was certain that he would never understand all of it, or even enough of it. How expert ship handlers like Captain Reed remembered all the myriad things they needed to know, Koren could not imagine, but the captain and first mate and other made it look easy. To them, it was second nature to come on deck, feel the breeze on their faces and simply know exactly how to get the best speed out of their somewhat awkward and slow merchant ship. Alfonze told Koren that, after he learned the basics of seamanship, he could attempt to learn navigation. Navigation, that apparently magical art of knowing where the ship was, on the open sea with no land in sight. Privately, Koren told himself that his poor brain could never hope to learn navigation; his greatest ambition at the moment was to be an instinctive sailor like Alfonze, who scrambled up and down the rigging like a monkey. Alfonze thought nothing of walking out along one of the upper spars during a storm to reef sails; with the ship bobbing up and down and side to side, and every motion exaggerated the higher a sailor climbed from the deck. Koren was as yet trusted only to work the lower set of sails; to climb to the first set of spars. Someday, soon, he hoped to join the rank of sailors like Alfonze who worked the topsails.

  “Gather here,” the first mate’s voice boomed out, louder than necessary as the ship was gently floating at anchor with only a light breeze wafting over the deck. The first
mate had developed his speaking voice to be heard at the top of the mast during a raging storm, and the man did not seem to know any lower volume.

  Koren and the others shuffled their feet to crowd in front of the quarterdeck where the captain stood in front of the wheel which steered the ship. A wheel that had been lashed stationary for the past fortnight. At first, the wheel had been immobilized so work could be performed on the ship’s rudder, but that had taken only two days.

  Captain Reed stepped forward and took off the broad-brimmed hat he usually wore when the sun was overhead. With the ship resting at anchor, the crew had rigged an awning that covered most of the deck, shielding them from the sun’s burning rays. Even so, Koren’s neck itched where the collar of his shirt touched his reddened skin. He needed to listen to the sailors who had spent many years in the tropics, and cover himself better when the sun was scorching down on him. “We have a cargo,” Reed announced simply, and the crew cheered. The captain held up a hand for quiet. “The cargo is for Istandol.”

  The crew around Koren murmured and grumbled, shifting their feet and looking at each other. Before Koren could ask Alfonze about Istandol, Captain Reed continued. “You know what that means; a high potential for profit, because we’ll be taking high risk.”

  “Pirates, he means,” Alfonze said quietly.

  “With the war up north,” Reed gestured in that direction, “business here is bad. There’s less demand for cargo, and more piracy than I’ve seen in all my years at sea. We could stay here, where the pirates haven’t ventured yet, but there’s no money here to pay our costs. Too many ships,” he pointed to the harbor where more than a dozen ships were idle, “chasing not enough profit. So, we’re going north, to Istandol. We won’t load cargo for another week yet, I want to careen the ship, scrape the weed off her bottom.”

  That prompted some appreciative nodding of heads among the crew. A slow merchant ship like the Lady Hildegard had a difficult enough time trying to outrun light, fast pirate ships. If the ship’s hull below the waterline was cluttered with barnacles, muscles, seaweed and any other form of sea life that clung to wood or rock, her speed would be cut further. What the captain was proposing was to take the ship into shallow water, where a low tide would cause the hull to lay aground and exposed. Until the tide began to rise again, the crew would scrape away any unwanted growth, and take the opportunity to inspect and repair the timbers. It would be hot, dirt work, but it would give the ship a better chance to evade pirates. “Anyone,” Reed said while looking in the eyes of his crew, “who wishes to leave the ship, can do so with no hard feelings.”

  “I have a family,” Renten said just loudly enough for the men around him to hear. “I didn’t sign up to fight pirates,” he stared at the deck.

  “Aye,” Alfonze clapped a hand on Renten’s shoulder. “You need to think of your family first. No hard feelings, as the captain said.”

  Captain Reed spoke for a few more minutes, detailing the bonuses that would be paid upon delivery in Istandol, and they were substantial. Perhaps enough to change some minds among the crew; Koren could see some men counting on their fingers, imagining the coins they would receive at Istandol. Then the first mate dismissed them, with a warning that the ship would begin moving toward the careenage spot just after noontime the next day.

  “What do you think, Alfonze?” Koren asked. He had seen battle, and he did not seek to experience it again. At least on land, soldiers were able to retreat if faced with superior force. On the sea, if the Lady Hildegard were chased by faster pirate ships, Koren’s fate would be in the hands of the captain’s skill, and luck. He would have no place to go other than his assigned station in the rigging. And he would be virtually powerless to control what happened to him.

  Alfonze scratched his head and thought for a moment. “I think the captain is doing the best he can. All these other ships are sitting idle, with weed growing on their bottom, and pay for the crew running out. If we swing here at anchor too long, we may as well let her sink and be done with it.”

  “Are you going?” Koren asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know as I’m sure yet,” the big man mused, looking longingly at the shore. “I’m going into town, talk to other crews. See if any other ships have a berth for an experienced sailor, and a less risky cargo. But I doubt it. Will you join me?”

  Koren smiled wryly. “You want me to come with you, so I can lend you coins for rum.”

  Alfonze grinned and cuffed Koren lightly on the head. “Ah, you’re young. What else are you going to do with the coins that are burning a hole in your pocket, eh?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Royal Chancellor Gustov Kallron strode purposefully down the broad hallway of the royal palace, the robes of his office flowing around him. Guards stiffened to attention as he approached and held their posture until the royal chancellor had gone around a corner. With the throne vacant and a Regent ruling Tarador, Chancellor Kallron was the second most powerful person in the kingdom. Some said, as the Regent was weak and indecisive, that Kallron was the most powerful. Although, he could not get the Regent to take action against the enemy, so what good did his power do for him? Or for Tarador?

  Kallron paused outside the door to the chambers of the crown princess, catching his breath and straightening his robes. A meaningful glance by one of the guards flanking the door drew the Chancellor’s attention to a tiny piece of lint caught in a fold of his robe, he clumped it and tucked it into a pocket. With a curt nod, he signaled that he was ready; the guards thumped their staffs on the floor, opened the large double doors and announced him. “Chancellor Kallron to see Her Royal Highness Ariana, as requested.”

  Kallron stifled a smile of amusement. Ariana. A girl he had held on his knee when she was a baby. A girl who had spit up on his expensive robes, many times. And now she was a young woman, learning how to rule her nation.

  “Chancellor Kallron,” Ariana said in a cool tone, and Kallron stiffened. Sometimes when the crown princess called for him, it was because she wanted him to do something behind her mother’s back, and Kallron had to prepare himself for a struggle between his competing responsibilities. But even when Ariana was making trouble for him, she always had a friendly smile. Not this day. Kallron’s mind raced through the past several days, since his last meeting with Ariana. That meeting had been a quick lunch, an opportunity for Ariana to complain about her mother, and to ask Kallron’s opinion of issues her military tutor had raised. What could have happened in the past few days to sour Ariana’s mood? She had met with the court wizard the previous day, but Ariana met often with Lord Salva, and Paedris had not said anything about it to Kallron. The Chancellor considered Paedris to be a friend and ally; if something was amiss, he would have expected the wizard to tell him. Unless the wizard himself did not know what was troubling the crown princess? Ariana’s mood had been volatile since the wizard’s servant had fled from Linden and, apparently, from all of Tarador.

  There was something more to that story, much more than Kallron knew. And that drove the Chancellor to many sleepless nights. The court wizard, the Regent, and Ariana knew something about why Koren Bladewell had fled from the castle; something very important. And none of them would tell Gustov Kallron, although he had hinted that the Chancellor of the Realm certainly needed to know anything important.

  Kallron had many guesses about why the Royal Army had been sent out to bring Koren back, or kill him if he had been captured by the enemy. Had Koren stolen something from the wizard, something dangerous? Did Koren know a dangerous secret? Kallron could only guess, and his guesses failed to satisfy him. He had interviewed soldiers who had served with Koren on their ill-fated expedition, when Lord Salva had been attacked by enemy wizards. Other than the fact that Koren had been falsely accused of desertion and cowardice, Kallron had learned little to explain why the three most powerful people in the realm seemed almost desperate to for Koren’s safe return. Captain Raddick also knew something about Koren, Kallron suspected, althoug
h Raddick was not talking, and had requested duty in the field where he was far from intrigues around the royal palace.

  Kallron bowed from the waist; the correct amount of bending owed by a senior royal official to the future queen. “Your Highness.”

  “Kallron, you serve the crown,” Ariana said in an unfriendly tone.

  No, not unfriendly, Kallron told himself. She was nervous. Whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable. “I serve your mother. Or, officially, I serve the Regent,” he corrected himself.

  “Chancellor Kallron, you disappoint me,” Ariana said with an exaggerated pout. “You serve the Regent, but your service is at the pleasure of the crown. I am the crown.”

  It was not often that Kallron found himself surprised. He truly did not know where the conversation was going. “That is true, Your Highness,” he said in a neutral tone. “It is, the best term perhaps is a ‘legal fiction’ that my office serves at the pleasure of-”

  “No.” Ariana declared flatly. “It is legal. It is the law. It is not a ‘legal fiction’. You serve Tarador. I am the head of state, whether my mother holds the Regency or not. You serve at my pleasure, Mister Kallron.”

  It was even less often that Gustov Kallron found himself at a loss for words. He could not recall when last it had happened. Ever? Had it ever happened? When he finally found his voice, he managed to say “Have I displeased Your Highness?”

 

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