Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1)

by Peter Yard

  "About five months. I will be returning in another month."

  "I guess you would be eager to see home again." Mikel said.

  "Of course." He audibly sighed.

  "It isn't a very friendly place, is it?"

  The man only nodded, head still facing down, only the top of his hood visible.

  It occurred to Mikel that the staff at the Embassy should have seen the warning signs that he had seen. Why had it been necessary to send him?

  "I've seen a lot of signs in the streets. Bethor seems to be getting quite aggressive and restless."

  The man looked up and pushed his cowl back revealing his face. Mikel almost gasped. The same face, almost unchanged, that had changed his life.

  "What is your name?" Mikel asked, returning that question asked long before.

  "Alberto Elrick. Yours?"

  "Mikel. Mikel Peres."

  Alberto looked at him. His eyes widened for a moment, then they both smiled.

  "Glad to see you did so well." Alberto said.

  "I really can't express how much I owe you. Why have I never seen you before?"

  "I spend most my time here, only spending one or two months each year back in Lind or one of the islands. It's pretty unlikely our paths would cross."

  "I know you are busy but I've been wondering, is there something wrong with Bethor? It seems really aggressive and intolerant."

  Alberto smiled. "It is always like that. It just varies in intensity from year to year. You get used to it, but I find I need a break every now and then."

  Mikel concluded that Wizards in Bethor were just too close, too acclimatized to the danger and could no longer see the signs becoming urgent.

  It seemed the difficult task was done, but the easy task was going to get him into a lot of hot water. He dallied there for some time, reluctant to leave, the place radiated safety, it felt like home. He wanted to stay until morning then take that letter back personally to the Master Wizard and beg for forgiveness. Even if the Master forgave him, deep inside he knew he would have failed, at his very first mission. It would be humiliating. Perhaps, if he was older and more seasoned he may have thought differently but now, right now, he was compelled to go along with circumstance. Yet deep down it gave him a chill, it felt irreversible, and final.

  He had a day to spare in Bethor with no idea what to do. He could fake a Bethorese accent pretty well but he didn't want to push his luck. Briefly, a temptation flashed into his mind to travel north and find his home, but there was no time and he didn't know if his village was a day's ride north or a week's ride, and he didn't know how to ride anyway. It would be better to stay in the city, besides he wasn't ready yet to find the graves of his family. He decided to take a random walk through the Delta. Explore the places that he had no official need to visit.

  Most of the streets led to more and more merchant premises. But one of the streets on the southern side of the Delta ended in a large circular area fronting an imposing yellow stone building, sandstone probably by the delicate shading and grain. He had never appreciated until now how beautiful it could be, especially with the sun low in the sky with the mellowing light. There were six armed guards standing watch at a large gate made of iron bars and wrought iron mesh that looked like a black rose garden. Great workmanship mixed with memory flashes, momentary feelings. He took a deep breath and took a step backwards. The building was clearly a government structure but it was very ornate. He had been raised in a deeply egalitarian society and had no familiarity with the concepts of aristocracy or opulence, so he did not immediately associate the building with an individual with great power and wealth and therefore did not know that it was not public or open or safe.

  He walked around the arc of the cul-de-sac, the rut marks indicated it was for carriages and such. He just wanted to get a better look at the building and the workmanship.

  "You. If you don't have any business here, leave." Said the closest guard.

  "Certainly, my apologies. I'm just a visitor from — a village to the north. Pardon."

  He turned to walk away up the road when he saw a carriage approaching rapidly. He turned and jumped to the right out of the way, back onto the footpath. The carriage pulled up. The front horse was a huge, black, beautiful creature, uncomfortably close and snorting in his direction while the bridle and other horse tack jostled and clinked from the sudden stop. A woman stepped out of the carriage dressed in some kind of simple but well made gray military uniform. Brown hair plaited and braided forming a crown around her head. She looked at him.

  "You there! Who are you?"

  "Just a visitor to Bethor, name's Mikel. I was admiring the workmanship of the building. We don't have anything like it in my village."

  Her deep blue eyes narrowed. Judging. She had a light skin, no makeup or jewelry. There was something cold and familiar about her look, a disdain and matter of fact attitude to stepping on others, he recognized it from the slavers. But this woman had more than that. She was very familiar indeed, and that voice.

  "You don't belong here citizen. If you feel pride in the work of Bethor then enlist. Be a patriot and join the national will to greatness."

  He didn't understand what these words meant, they were gibberish, but he did know he had better act like one of the faithful.

  "Yes, yes majesty." He bit his lip, he knew nothing of protocols for royal or imperial courts.

  The woman's eyes narrowed and she smiled in a crooked way as if acknowledging an in-joke only she understood.

  He started walking away briskly, behind him he heard one of the guards. "Welcome back, Ms Markham."

  He picked up the pace, eager to get as far away from her as possible. His jaws tensing in fear. A strange thought occurred to him, perhaps it wasn't that we remember the past but rather the past remembers us and was all the more dangerous for that.

  Finally, the bartering was concluded for the major goods. Letters of credit and arrangements with the Trader bank finalized but the biggest hurdle was yet to come. Traders really don't like socializing with aristocracy. They can do it but it is almost an affront to their beliefs, which they conveniently keep secret, spreading the lie that they are unsophisticated, which is starkly at odds with the fact that they trade information and technology, and run the banking network.

  Now she had a party to go to, she had to meet the evil family at the magic castle, like one of the stories her Nan used to tell her.

  It was typical Trader formal wear for a woman. Yellow and pink silk pantaloons, a formal deep blue jacket, yellow silk sleeves; the colours of morning. And a ceremonial dagger. The dagger had no edge otherwise the guards would never let it in. It did not have jewels or gold but was made from materials sacred to the Traders. Ancient wood from the pines of northern Xan, trees that no longer existed; steel reforged from weapons of the Ancients. There was no reason for overly strict or corrupt guards to keep it.

  She hired an enclosed carriage to the castle. It was strange to ride without the wind in her face, or able to see everything around her at a glance. She couldn't anticipate the bumps and lurches. It was horrendous.

  "The things I do for duty." She murmured to no one. She had decided to go alone. A party of one woman looks forlorn and harmless, at least with the odd perceptions that Bethor was noted for.

  The castle was everything she expected from the old fairytales. A great black gate reminding her of a story about a castle surrounded by a cursed forest of thorns. She gritted her teeth, and pulled her mouth into something superficially resembling an insipid smile greeting the guards.

  Inside she was introduced formally to the room and started mingling.

  On the far right of the room were three merchants that Tei recognized. They all seemed to wear well tailored coats of some reddish brown material. She should ask what it was, it might be worth sourcing a supply if the fashion spread eastward.

  First among the little gathering was Terrance Alistero, he was a balding portly middle aged merchant who had once v
entured out to all the Cities, but had been getting rich and fat staying in Bethor the last few years. He, like most merchants, was friendly with the Traders but unlike most he actually meant it. Tei knew him but thought she should get to know him more, he could be a useful ally in easing some of Bethor's dangerous tendencies. The other two were Gilda Wosheska, a woman in her forties, and Adrian Finn, both of them Tei barely knew.

  "Hello Tei. I'm surprised to see you here," Terry said, smiling.

  "Good evening, friends. I'm just here wearing my ambassador hat for tonight. Keeping up good relations."

  The other two merchants chuckled at the 'good relations'.

  Gilda was a dark-haired, dark skinned woman who was no longer young, with streaks of gray in her hair and the start of wrinkles on the sides of her face; the intensity in her eyes overrode the trappings of age. She spoke up, getting back on topic, which meant goods.

  "Have you seen the new clocks from Lind? Mechanical, with gears. By the stars it makes you wonder if those old stories of the Ancients are true. Pricey but there are so many willing takers. I have a contact in Lind if you wish to purchase from me, I can be extremely reasonable."

  Adrian sneered and spoke. "Just how many clocks do you expect to sell. I too have contacts in Lind and I have the rights to sell a new water purification system."

  That got Tei's attention.

  "How complex is it? Are you selling parts or the plans? And how much?" She said.

  He smiled. "It does require kilns to produce charcoal. But once you have the basic components I am told it is very easy to use and very effective. Cost, open to negotiation, of course." He said.

  "Charcoal? How is black soot going to make clean water?" Gilda said.

  "We would have to see a working demonstration first. I cannot stay much longer in Bethor but I will pass on the details to my relief." Tei said. He passed her a small note with his name and contact details.

  Terry leaned in, whispering. "Good that you are going Tei. I honestly don't feel comfortable here anymore." He looked up startled, he gave her a quick wave. They all backed away, frightened like wild animals.

  Before she could turn, a woman sidled up to her left, a drink in a beautiful green glass cup in her right hand. She wore a stark gray uniform. It stood out in this refined atmosphere like a bloody sword at a wedding.

  "Excuse me, Ambassador. My name is Liz Markham." They shook hands awkwardly, while Liz transferred the drink to her other hand.

  "Markham? Now there's a name that invites some questions. My name is Tei Lin Valis. Call me Tei."

  "Pleased to meet you, Tei. Hah, yes. Many people have the name Markham, doesn't mean much these days. So what interesting insights can you give us for the latest fashions in goods, Tei?"

  "I just look for what people want now and try to give them that. Too hard for me to anticipate fashion I'm afraid."

  She passed Tei another drink. Tei had no idea where she got it from, she didn't have it a moment ago.

  "I have heard so many interesting things about Traders. Is it true you travel all the way east, past the Eastern Desert? That you worship Zeus?" She took a sip, held the pose, waiting for Tei to take a sip. It looked like a white wine, it had the taste of sweet wine with extra alcohol. What was the bet dear Liz was drinking colored water?

  "No, we haven't been beyond the Eastern Desert. We know what was once on the other side but no one has returned from expeditions to the East. As for Zeus, we respect Zeus, but we don't worship him."

  Liz looked quizzically at her. "Does that mean he is real but not a god? Or just another god who you don't bother worshipping?"

  She laughed suddenly, then caught herself. The typical laugh Bethorese use when they dismiss outsider ideas as primitive and superstitious.

  "And you have a city in the desert, Tanten, I believe?"

  "Yes. Our capital is Tanten in the Eastern Desert."

  "Must be small. A desert can't support many people. So, Tei, how big is it compared to say the village of Fairmeadow, which you pass by in the Gap? Smaller? Same size?"

  "It is big enough for us, Lady Markham."

  "Don't be so formal. We are all friends here. I just want to get to know our friends from the East." She smiled. Tei gritted her teeth and smiled back.

  "I must introduce you to some friends of mine, Tei." She waved her arm at someone across the crowded room.

  Two young men in formal ornate Bethor uniforms made their way across the room, each a full head above everyone else, a blur of red, black, and gold.

  Liz, conspiratorially, whispered in Tei's ear, hand on her shoulder. "They're brothers. Can't you tell? They are magnificent, but don't tell them that. You know what men are like."

  It was a setup and Tei knew it. She just had to ride this dust storm out to the end. And smile all the way.

  There was some typical small talk as the two men introduced themselves. They were Brian and Roberto Hammersli, Bethor aristocracy, officers by appointment and welcome in the Royal Court of the High Emperor of Bethor.

  "Ah yes, we were talking about Tanten. I would like to visit it sometime. But I don't know how to get there. What is the best route Tei?" Liz said. An obvious invitation for them to add pressure on her.

  Roberto added his voice. "Oh, Tanten. I've heard of it. A friend said he visited it. Just headed southeast from the Eastern Caravanserai."

  Tei smiled. "Don't believe everything you are told. I am unable to tell you the way to Tanten. It is just a place in the desert, no valuable land."

  Liz leaned in to her, her smile vanished for an instant then returned, "but you see my dear, there are stories of treasures and knowledge. There are so many who would like to visit to see it. You do have a library don't you?"

  "I thought Bethor had the best library in Arva?" Her irritation was starting to show, those words were unwise.

  "It does. But you know it would benefit us all if our scholars could safely visit other libraries and museums, especially those of the Traders. Perhaps we could arrange a cultural exchange to strengthen our friendship?"

  "I don't think that will be possible, I fear. Only the council can authorize visitors to the Library. They are strict and do not listen to a mere Ambassador such as myself."

  It was getting too much. Three against one.

  "Pardon me. I must be going now. I have to make arrangements to take a caravan tomorrow morning. I will have to be up early. Good night, Brian, Roberto, Ms Markham. Thank you for the party, it was most interesting."

  She got out the door. Took a deep breath of the sour town night air. Briskly down the steps and through the gate. Night, dim yellow street lights, lamplight through distant windows, acrid smoke rising above the city from hundreds of small home fires. Some stars above showing through the murk, always the stars watch us, she thought. She got into the nearest carriage and headed back to the Caravanserai.

  The Emperor of Bethor, Karl Maximilian Pederson, was young. Liz regarded him as a rather foolish, immature, distracted man of 23, or a boy pretending to be a man. Her own family's history no doubt darkened her view of him, she didn't care. His dark hair, green eyes, rugged looks were praised by many women in the court. Their fawning almost made her gag. He claimed an interest in the arts, could paint, write a decent sonnet. She thought him a decadent who did not understand the forces at work in his own realm.

  Now he wanted to meet her. She had never met him for any serious discussions, she was always in the background. Better for me to spy on you. She thought.

  However, she needed to curry favor with him, especially when his 'advisors' were about. His advisors: the Secretary Kahl Enoos, Treasurer Vinnis Ortens, Securitor (Head of the Ministry of Order, secret police and propaganda) Tovan Frisch. Frisch was an ally and seemed not to share his emperor's hopes for peace, or else he was duping her. Stories of his excesses with female prisoners were legendary and likely true. She suspected he was waiting until he could have her body all to himself on a rack in the dungeon away from prying eyes, whe
n she was no longer of use in his plans. They were all a pack of jackals, one day they would get an appropriate reward.

  Frisch had been pushing the recent propaganda messages, designed the banners himself, so he said, arguing to the Emperor that it would be followed by a new program of 'greater understanding for our brothers on Neti'. True enough, there will be greater understanding, when we are in control, probably after a lot of blood has been shed, she thought, suddenly grateful that the Ancient mind reading tech of legend no longer existed.

  "Lady Markham, I have heard you have been raising the readiness of our troops in the vicinity of Lindin, is this true?" The Emperor asked as if he was discussing the flowers in the Imperial Gardens. The way he pronounced 'Lady', mocking and questioning, was a reminder that her family had a question mark over it, that her demonstrated loyalty was paramount no matter how talented she was as a general.

  He went on, converting the question to a rhetorical one and this meeting into something more sinister.

  "Remember who your Emperor is. I know you want to recapture old glory or something. But there is nothing out there. The Cities are poor. What could you possibly gain from them? The climate is so variable lately we can't even rely on their grain shipments. Good heavens, they have become a liability, not an asset."

  "I am maintaining my army's readiness. Regular drills and so on."

  "Don't lie to me, Lady Markham. I know you are up to more than that. What are you doing?"

  "As I said drills, because I do not trust the Cities. Also, there may still be knowledge left in the Cities. If we look properly instead of just sacking them like we did last time."

  "That was centuries ago, I doubt there is anything left in the ruins."

  "Maybe, but if we don't look we won't know. They are also a stepping stone."

  "To what?" He said.

  "If we control all the Cities, including Sanfran, we can control the Eastern Caravanserai whenever we want. Choke or tax the Traders into submission. Find out where their damnable Tanten is located, then lay siege to it or subvert it. They must have lots of secrets." She was starting to flush with anger. She slowly took a few calming breaths while he rambled on.