The King’s response hinted that he was not pleased with his Chancellor’s censure, but he left it for Nevin to make the proper rejoinder. “Go ahead, Sir Nevin. Quiet this rooster with a display he has not seen before.”
Nevin’s confidence instantly dropped. He only knew a few spells and he had already tried the most dramatic option he could think of. Maybe he should have aimed the deliverance at the Chancellor instead of the dog, although his sense of ethics prohibited him from doing something like that to a nonconsenting person.
Anson, meanwhile, had edged over to Nevin and was whispering something that did not quite register. Anson repeated, then spit the word through his teeth in a stage whisper—“Luminescence!” The windows!” and drew his hands apart in exaggerated gesture. It took a few seconds, but Nevin finally realized that Anson was telling him to use an extra quantity of mindpower on a luminescence spell directed at the windows. Easy for you to say.
Nevin nodded to let his friend know he understood, and turned toward the windows. Taking his time, he focused his concentration once more to raise that now vaguely familiar sensation of mindpower. Gradually, Nevin felt the sensation rising, as he had barely perceived before, but it still seemed nothing extraordinary to him. Just intense mental concentration, such as any scholar might master. Perhaps like Marconi might have experienced when he privately conceptualized mastery of invisible radio waves, or Edison when he concocted a way to capture his voice on the grooves of a wax cylinder. Both of these examples would appear extraordinary to these people than vanishing the dog. Nevin increased his level of concentration further and quietly spoke the words as he remembered them. Though his head throbbed some, it was actually getting easier to mount his concentration within the framework of the words. Suddenly, one after another, the wall lamps extinguished.
While Nevin thought his effort was nothing extraordinary, to others it was more so. Anson was at Nevin’s side but had to step away from the rising bursts of mindpower. He recovered and stepped forward again like a man struggling to glimpse a blinding light, trying to make out the spellwords as Nevin canted them. Through the first iteration it sounded essentially correct, but something went wrong as the wall lamps extinguished. Nevin had progressed to a deeper, more powerful level of concentration as he went through a second repetition. By the third time through, Anson realized what was wrong: Nevin had slipped up on a few words and was reversing the spell! Anson froze with indecision as the room went dark. Despite the fact that it was early afternoon and there were several large windows in the room, it was pitch black. Nevin had successfully reversed a light spell.
The first reaction by all was stunned silence. A few voices cried out in fear. More anxious voices were followed by a few moans and sharp cries. People started moving about in mass blindness, stumbling over each other and articles of furniture. There were more screams and shouts as panic set in.
Nevin was totally confused about what had happened and could not think of anything to do.
Anson knew what could be done, but it required more mindpower than he could generate so he had to get hold of Nevin. A stumbling, hysterical woman nearly knocked Anson down as he vainly groped around in the darkness for Nevin.
Unable to find Nevin, there was only one thing Anson could do. He had to try to match Nevin’s mindpower and undo the spell. The mage braced himself and started canting the appropriate spell words. He concentrated as deeply as he could, trying to find an inner source of strength he never called upon before. Everything was going awry and he had to correct things or this opportunity would be lost. He trembled from effort as he recanted the words. One, then two iterations. With a third he was shouting the words at a fever pitch of concentration. Then, as suddenly as the darkness came, light returned through the windows. People were strewn all around the room where they had collided with someone or something. Some were bruised and others were hysterical. Hardly anyone but the King was left standing.
The King raised his hand for order, his face still neutral, not betraying what he thought of this fiasco. The people responded to the King’s silent command and gathered themselves into a semblance of decorum. It was soon quiet again, although the well-dressed courtiers and courtesans were as displeased as they were disheveled. There was no way to know how the King was going to react to this incident, so Nevin took the initiative.
“Your Highness, please forgive the behavior of your subjects. They cannot be faulted for reacting this way to something they have never seen before, but this is what your Chancellor requested. If he had been as willing as you to accept the first demonstration, this scene could have been avoided.”
The King’s face remained expressionless as he listened. With a scant look around, a smile faintly broke across his lips. “Well met, Sir Nevin,” replied the King. “Chancellor, perhaps next time you will be more trusting and less impudent when welcoming such a formidable guest.” Turning to the trio, he said, “Now, good sirs, you have my attention as you requested. What is it you wish to discuss with me about the war with Gilsum?”
This was the opportunity they sought. Nevin bowed and waved Anson forward to present their case. The mage stepped as close as he dared to the dais and was allowed to speak unimpeded. He described how Antrim was becoming depleted by the loss of citizens and resources—mere boys being conscripted into military service, fields lying fallow, and brigands making roads and towns unsafe. The few who survived this war would be so traumatized by its effects that people would regress to barbarism and anarchy. Anson told Lucan about Nevin’s land with its marvelous inventions that allow a person to fly at great speed or view images of people who are a great distance away, and about their medicines that come from things as common as moldy bread that can cure injuries that are fatal in Antrim. Even with their marvelous advantages, they also suffered futile wars with weapons so terrible that the amount of death and destruction is unimaginable. And now that King Meire is being counseled by a man from Nevin’s land, Gilsum will have strategies and devices which Antrim cannot defeat. Even when Gilsum eventually subdues Antrim there will be no prize for the victor, as happened to the decimated city called Hiroshima in Nevin’s land. With a final plea, Anson produced the library pictures he had hidden under his shirt. Nevin now appreciated Anson’s foresight at procuring them.
Lucan studied these pictures for what seemed a long time, his face turning grave. The King’s eyes fixed back and forth on the images, deep in thought as he reflected on the two dimensional facsimiles. This brightened Anson’s hopes—only to be dashed when the King spoke.
“I thank you men for your concern. You have come to me at great danger to yourself, which proves you are sincere in your loyalty to me and affection for the people of Antrim. But what you propose for me is surrender to our enemy. We must continue to fight the Gilsum army whenever and wherever it intrudes in Antrim. We have had many casualties as you say, but the soldiers who are left are proud and loyal to our cause. We must still seek a way for our soldiers to prevail. For them, I cannot pursue the course of surrender which you would have me follow.” Lucan stood.
“I have welcomed you as guests, and as my guests you may stay. A castlekeeper will show you to the northeast tower, where you may enjoy our hospitality for the night before you depart. Our audience for the day is ended.”
The King left the dais and walked straight toward the exit at the back of the room, this time his pace was quick and not processional like his entrance. His subjects barely had time to kneel as he passed. As he went by, he did not make eye contact with anyone but stared straight ahead.
After Lucan exited the room, Orris rejoined Nevin and Anson. A woman who identified herself as the castlekeeper, offered to direct the men to their quarters, an offer which they somewhat dazedly accepted. As they made for a side exit, Anson was so disheartened he had to take Orris’ arm for support.
Nevin was relieved that no one asked him to make the King’s dog reappear.
Chapter 18
Corissa
After Orris left, due to his preference to “sleep in other quarters,” the castlekeeper escorted Anson and Nevin through a series of corridors. Although Orris would return the next day, the soldier’s departure disturbed Anson.
Nevin tried to ease Anson’s anxiety by explaining that Orris might learn helpful information if he could gad about. If the three of them were confined together, what more could they learn? This reassurance did calm Anson somewhat, but the mage was still unnerved that things were going badly.
Nevin noted how seriously Anson took this idea of an alliance for Antrim, but chose not to press his friend in the presence of the castlekeeper. It seemed perfectly reasonable for Orris to go about his soldiering business and other interests expected for a man returning home from war. In fact, Nevin would have liked a chance to see more of this place as well, but the castlekeeper, leery of both alleged mages, was not interested in guiding a tour.
The two followed their guide to a suite of small rooms located at the base of the turret in the northeast corner of the castle. The castlekeeper quickly completed arrangements for bathing and dining before leaving the two men to their privacy, glad to be dismissed from their company.
Anson remained greatly disheartened and was not very talkative. He failed and took full blame for the fiasco in the King’s reception room. He mumbled that he had no idea what to do next. Despite Nevin’s attempts to reassure him, Anson wrung his hands and paced the room. Nevin finally stopped his friend with hands to his shoulders, and nearly shook him to get his attention.
“Anson, what is it? What is disturbing you so?”
The mage looked up at his much taller companion with eyes that exuded a maelstrom of emotion beyond sorrow, anger or fear, but a boiling mixture of each. His shoulders sagged as he admitted his uncertainties. “I do not know what exactly to say, Sir Nevin. I fear that the three of us must stay together. If something should happen to one, we will be lost. We cannot succeed without our alliance.” Anson started to pace the room again and continued, “You are annoyed with me I am sure. Yet time grows short and we must proceed together. There is an ominous threat billowing around us. I suppose I was gradually aware of it for some time, but the attack on Huxley made it certain. Now, it looms more ominous but without growing clearer. We must proceed with haste before we are harmed.”
Nevin agreed, thinking the threat seemed pretty obvious. In view of the Chancellor’s actions, the people of Antrim seemed easily misguided. Their so-called alliance came close to imprisonment. Before laying out a plan, Nevin cautioned that they sorely needed rest. Anson reluctantly assented.
While Anson rested in one of the bedrooms, Nevin examined the surroundings. His sense of excitement started to return at the opportunity to experience such an interesting culture. Their suite included two small bedrooms off a larger sitting room furnished with two undersized divans and a table with some flimsy looking cane chairs. A fourth room was a bath, also small by Nevin’s standards, but complete with running water (or rather dripping water from a long, narrow clay pipe into a small trough he took to be a urinal or some type of primitive toilet). There was no provision for hot water except to carry it in; there was a tub for bathing, though a bit too small for Nevin’s use. After completing his tour of the rooms, Nevin was impatient to see more of the castle. A knock on the door startled him.
Upon opening the door, he saw a lone woman with hands clasped in front of her and a rather grim facial expression. She was taller than any of the Antrim people he had met, perhaps even taller than the King, and she had a somewhat darker complexion. Her hair was a very dark brown, nearly black, and stylishly arranged in mounting curls on top of her head. The arrangement of her hair made the woman seem even taller, which made Nevin feel more comfortable to see someone approaching normal height. Her clothing was definitely patrician, a long white dress that hung with many folds and brocaded with sequins and lavender trim. The dress was designed to be shoulderless, but the woman covered her shoulders and bodice with a shawl of toile cloth. Nevin’s first impression was that this woman was strikingly different from the local inhabitants he had met; perhaps she was an outsider, too. She was certainly attractive, though her somber demeanor diminished that effect. He beckoned, “Please, come in. I was hoping for some company.”
The woman hesitated, evidently replaying the intent of these words. She cautiously entered the room and looked around before returning her scrutiny of Nevin, trying without success to avoid staring at his black eye. She said softly, “Your companion is here? The mage from Huxley?”
“He is sleeping. Come in, sit down. Er...please, that is. Uh, you have nothing to be afraid of, Miss...Who are you?”
She stood perfectly erect, a posture that conveyed a strong sense of self-confidence, or maybe patrician arrogance, but this image fell apart as she became flustered trying to explain her presence. “My name is Corissa. King Lucan has asked me to see if your needs are being met. I mean, in terms of your comforts, that is...Like your bath—though I am not here to bathe you...I don’t think I am explaining this well...”
“It’s OK. Don’t worry about it. You can be of help to me.”
“In what way?” she asked, still on her guard.
Though he was fatigued from the earlier spellcasting efforts, Nevin caught a second wind. “Just be my guide,” he said hopefully. “Show me around the castle. I have never seen a place like this before and I have a lot of questions. May we go? Please?”
Corissa seemed relieved at the opportunity to leave the room and quickly consented to give Nevin his guided tour. For the next few hours, she tirelessly led him to all corners of the castle and tried to answer what seemed like hundreds of questions. She proved equal to the task and seemed willing to go on as long as he asked. Throughout their walk, they drew stares but no one dared speak to either of them.
As the sunset they took a respite at the Central Garden, an atrium in the middle of the castle grounds that reminded Nevin of a Japanese garden. Corissa did not understand that reference, and asked if that was a compliment or a criticism. Nevin laughed, but abruptly refrained when she indicated her ignorance should not be cause for amusement. He tried to explain what he meant, but was more successful at diverting her attention to the flowers and shrubs among the stone paths circling through the garden. Nevin loved flowering plants and had extensively studied annual and perennial species that grew in temperate climates. He saw many familiar varieties but their richness of color and fragrance was extraordinary. There were anomalies, too, at least to him, like red pansies and white marigolds, and many colors of violets, including the black variety that John Stryker had tried to propagate.
In the center of the garden, a circular stone bench surrounded a small pool. They sat there and talked for another hour, mostly with Corissa responding to Nevin’s endless questions about the local names of the flowers, weather extremes accompanying the seasons, the heating system used in the castle, how they propagated the violets, and more. The conversation remained one-sided, as she did not ask him about himself or his land. They both avoided any discussion of the day’s events in the reception room. Corissa eventually asked Nevin if he wished to have supper brought to his room.
“I forgot all about eating,” he replied. “I suppose I should eat something before they close the kitchen. Would you care to join me?”
Corissa did not understand his comment about closing the kitchen. Since he was the King’s guest, he would be served food and drink whenever he bid. However, she had no intention of dining with him and made that clear. “I will find the castlekeeper and ask her to have a meal brought to your room. I shall not be joining you.” She rose from the bench and waited for him rise as well. “I hope you found the tour pleasant, Sir Nevin. I will show you back to your room and call on you tomorrow, if the King asks it of me.”
“Please, do come back. I’d like very much to see more, perhaps outside the castle?”
“Perhaps. Now I must leave.”
She had been an ex
cellent guide and responded patiently and intelligently to his barrage of questions. But her dismissal seemed rather brusque, making him think he had somehow offended her. A tactical mistake on his part, he thought. She was interesting, intelligent and potentially charming, if she were not so icy. He wanted to meet with her again and try to rectify any misconduct on his part. In this unfamiliar land where he was brutish size and magic was plausible, he was more comfortable talking to her than anyone he had met so far. If she was an outsider, as he suspected, they had something in common.
Corissa led the way back to his room. Nevin dutifully followed, but there was no conversation between them. When they finally reached his door, she turned on her heels and left him with a terse “Good evening, Sir.” Nevin weakly waved good-bye, but the young woman never noticed as she hurried off.
Nevin entered the room and found Anson still asleep. He prepared for bed when a servant knocked, bearing a large tray of steamed vegetables and a near burnt slab of meat. Nevin usually ordered meat so rare “it would moo when stuck with a fork,” but not knowing whether they had refrigeration, he appreciated having this meat over-cooked as a precaution against bacterial contamination. After enjoying Corissa’s guided tour, and now savoring this meal, the day had turned out a lot better than it started. Putting the day’s earlier turmoil out of mind, he dined eagerly, looking forward to the next day’s surprises. He did muse briefly on the extraordinary results of his reversed luminescence spell, concluding he must have modified the experiment by adding A with B′ to produce 1/C.
Chapter 19
Alliance plus one
Nevin woke to the sound of an animated discussion in the outer sitting room. Anson and Orris were arguing over their audience with King Lucan. Orris thought it went well, but Anson was distraught because Lucan did not allow them to discuss a plan to meet with King Meire of Gilsum. Anson pressed the need for them to act, but Orris resisted.
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 15