by Andi Van
He became fish food is what he became, K’yerin said dryly. Maker knows he deserved it after what he did.
“No,” Triv said in a small, sad voice. “No one deserves that. It was terrifying and painful, and—”
“What about his heir? When did he go mad?” Tasis interrupted, and Kelwin was relieved to have the topic changed. The way it had been going, Triv would have spiraled into depression and Rin would have wallowed in guilt. They didn’t have time for that. Not with the current king seemingly bent on reenacting his ancestor’s war.
That made Triv pause, and she turned her attention to Josephina. “I wasn’t here for that, obviously. It’s a little hard to get news when you live underwater. What do you recall?”
“None of them went mad until after their coronations,” Josephina mused. Her gaze wandered around the cavern, though she didn’t seem to actually be looking at it so much as exploring her memories. “A curse maybe? He wouldn’t have been the first member of royalty to anger someone enough for that.”
“It’s possible, but it’s not like I had time to look into it before he brought death to our door. It might be worth considering.”
Tasis cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “I hate to suggest this, but Rin did happen to mention about women being wiped from history back then. Could it have been something his daughter did after she left in anger?”
This time, Triv laughed. “Maker, no. She had almost no ability, and if she were going to go to the trouble of finding someone capable of performing a curse, it would have been aimed at me, not her father. No, she loved her father. It was me she grew to hate.”
Chapter 3
JORGET HATED donkeys.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair, he allowed as the beast plodded along at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t the donkey he hated, so much as the fact that it was quite possible he could have walked to Til’anu and gotten there faster. And without an aching backside. “This is ridiculous,” he said out loud. The donkey flicked an ear at the sound but continued to trudge down the faint trail.
He and the donkey had left that morning, before the sun had even fully risen, and it was already dark out. He carried little with him, and was under strict instructions to head directly to the town. “No side trips,” Denekk had admonished when Jorget had opened his mouth to protest. “It’s not safe. Go straight there and ask for Arin. He’ll be easy to find, as he owns the largest bakery there, and he’ll wait in the shop until you arrive.”
“And how is a baker supposed to help me?” Jorget asked the donkey. He got no reaction at all this time, but that was okay. He was talking to himself. “I mean, yes, it’s a help to let me stay overnight. But Denekk made it sound like the guy holds the secrets of the universe or something.” He pondered this, then gave a little laugh. “That would be a fun story, wouldn’t it? A god with infinite knowledge who wants to spend his days baking.”
That bit of whimsy cheered him a little, right up until the donkey’s stride faltered and Jorget’s rear end suffered further. He nearly yelled at the animal to be more careful, but then he saw what had given his steed pause. In the distance, the lights of a town shone like a beacon. “Oh thank the Maker,” Jorget sighed. “Come on, slowpoke. You can speed up a tiny bit, can’t you?”
Apparently that was too much to ask, as the donkey seemed to actually slow down. Jorget ground his teeth and vowed to never ride a donkey again. He’d walk first.
He was eventually able to coax the sluggish beast into town, and managed to find the stable without much of a problem. He slid off the animal with a groan and grabbed his bag, paying the stable boy for the donkey’s care before he shuffled uncomfortably to the street, trying to recall his mentor’s directions. “The statue in the courtyard,” he mumbled under his breath, pointing at the stone monstrosity. “Go left. I think.”
It was apparently later than he’d suspected, since there was no one about except the town’s guards. One stopped him to ask him his business, and was happy to give him directions after Jorget told him that he was supposed to find Arin. It was strange, in his opinion, because most of the guards he’d always been around would have mocked someone for not knowing their way. He decided he rather liked this type better, and gave the man a genuine thank-you before backtracking to the fountain and going right instead.
After walking past several businesses, the smell of bread reached his nose. There would be nothing being baked at that hour, but the delicious scent seemed to cling to the shop. Jorget’s displeasure at having to be there faded almost immediately, only to be replaced by a hunger that made his belly snarl like a wild animal. Unsure what else to do when faced with a shop that didn’t appear to have any lights on, he knocked on the door and waited.
He felt rather more relief than he’d expected when the door opened a crack and a middle-aged man peeked out. He smiled when he saw Jorget, and opened the door wide. “You must be Jorget. I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry,” Jorget said with a sigh. “The donkey….”
Arin chuckled. “Ah,” he said, his voice laced with a heavy dose of understanding. “Yes, I imagine the one you were given isn’t particularly known for speed. But he got you here, that’s the important thing. Come in and shut the door, and I’ll finish what I was working on while you eat. When you’re done, I’ll take you back to my home so you can get some rest. I imagine tomorrow is going to seem just as long to you, even if you will be on a well-trained horse instead of a stubborn donkey.”
Jorget sighed heavily, then paused. “Wait, did you say ‘eat’?”
Arin laughed as Jorget’s stomach growled loudly, and he ushered the young man inside, locking the door behind them. He led Jorget to the back of the shop and through another door that turned out to open into the kitchen. When he stepped into the room, Jorget’s stomach nearly roared as he was assailed by the most incredible scents of meat and potatoes and bread.
“It’s not much,” Arin warned him as he dished up a plate of food, including a large piece of what looked like bread so fresh from the oven that it was still steaming. Jorget nearly had to check to make sure he wasn’t drooling, and the moment the plate was set before him he dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. He’d probably crossed the line into rude, but the baker chuckled again, so Jorget imagined it was okay.
“Listen while you eat,” Arin said, standing at the counter and kneading dough he’d obviously been working on when Jorget arrived. “I hear that you mistook Tasis for a girl.”
Jorget groaned but didn’t answer, mindful of the mouthful of food he was working on. Maker, he was never going to live that down.
“Don’t let it worry you,” Arin continued, surprising him. “The lad may have a chip on his shoulder about his looks, but he won’t blame you for an honest mistake. Apologize and then let it go. It will be forgiven and forgotten.”
Jorget let out a sigh of relief. He’d honestly been worried, his fears only increasing the closer to town he’d gotten. He wanted so badly to be allowed to join the guild, to test his abilities and learn new things. Hopefully without sticking himself to the ceiling again. Or worse, making the same mistake outside and ending up with the stars. He shivered at the thought.
“But there are a lot of things you’ve learned that you need to unlearn,” Arin warned him. “The society you live in right now will cease to be the society you belong in, should you join them on their hidden isle. You will no longer be part of human society.”
Jorget wrinkled his brow. That made no sense. He swallowed his mouthful of food and addressed the other man. “Arin, what do you mean? I’ll still be human, so I’ll still be part of human society.”
Arin paused, turning to look at Jorget, his expression quite serious. “No,” he said. “You won’t be. You’ll be a mage, same as everyone else there. When that happens, your species and your race cease to matter. You’ll be part of something much bigger than the tiny fraction of the world that humans have claimed. And that society you were born in
to, the one that tried to teach you that you were born better than the elves, or the giants, or any other of the myriad species that exist? They’ll turn on you. They’ll consider you a traitor and a monster because of something you were born with and had no say in. Have you ever witnessed the king proclaiming judgment on someone he’s decided is a magic user?”
“Denekk’s always tried to keep me out of it,” Jorget admitted softly. “But it’s hard to miss when your room is so near the courtyard and the king is as loud as he is.”
“Then you already know what you face,” Arin said with a nod. “If you do this, that could very well be you under the king’s foot someday, with him proclaiming judgment over you. Are you prepared for that?”
Jorget looked down at the table, taking the time to think about his words before glancing back up and meeting the man’s eyes. “Yes. I am absolutely prepared. I need to know what I can do, and I’ll never learn anything sitting in the castle while Denekk tries to protect me. I may not be the smartest person sometimes, and I know I say whatever pops into my head, but I can’t simply hide myself away and pretend to be something I’m not. I was born to be a part of this.”
Arin grinned, and the tension Jorget had felt building up inside him started to slide away. The baker wiped his hands and opened a door, pulling out what looked like a large bag of flour. He dug into it for a moment then pulled his hand free, bringing something out of the flour with it. It was small, flat, and round, completely unremarkable until Arin dusted it off with a nearby towel. When the flour had been brushed away, Jorget felt his breath catch as he realized Arin held a mirror. “Is that—” He looked around frantically before realizing the kitchen had no windows for someone to peek into. Had Arin chosen to wait for him here for that reason?
Arin simply smiled and brought the mirror to the table, setting it gently on the wooden surface. “The words you’re looking for are oldesh imel,” he said. When Jorget hesitated, he nodded toward the piece of glass. “Go on, Tasis is expecting you.”
Jorget stared at the mirror without picking it up before turning to look at Arin, confused. “Why do you have one of these? Only magic users can activate them, and you aren’t a magic user.” When Arin raised an eyebrow, Jorget’s confused frown deepened. “Are you?”
Arin merely smiled and waved a hand toward the mirror. “Use it,” he said, and wandered back to his workspace.
“But—”
“Use it,” Arin repeated before going back to kneading dough.
Jorget stared at him, several preconceived notions he’d had breaking under the realization that the simple baker might be more than he appeared. Maker take it, hadn’t Denekk told him to keep an open mind? This was exactly the sort of situation he’d meant, wasn’t it? He turned his attention to the mirror and carefully picked it up, took a deep breath, and whispered “Oldesh imel.”
He nearly dropped the thing when what had been his reflection turned to mist, just as it had happened in Denekk’s rooms. Jorget wasn’t sure why it startled him, since he’d already known what would happen, but maybe he hadn’t expected it to actually work when he did it.
The mirror cleared, and Jorget was greeted with the view of an unhappy-looking purple cat. He wasn’t sure why he thought the cat looked unhappy, but he definitely got that impression. “Um, hi,” he said uncertainly. “Uh, Arin told me that Tasis was expecting me to contact him.” He paused, trying desperately to remember the cat’s name, then grimaced. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“His name is K’yerin,” Arin said from the other side of the room. “And he understands every word you say, if nobody’s told you that yet. Hello, K’yerin.”
The cat looked less irritated, and gave a polite-sounding meow. Jorget closed his eyes and wondered how surreal his night was going to get. When he opened them again, the cat was looking at him expectantly. “Sorry. K’yerin. Arin said Tasis was expecting me. I’m sorry it’s so late, but would you please get him for me? I’d appreciate it.”
The cat seemed to relax, gave him what was definitely a nod, and walked off.
“Odd cat,” Jorget murmured to himself.
Unfortunately, it appeared he hadn’t said it quietly enough to keep other people from hearing him, as a sleep-rumpled Tasis yawned “He’s not a cat,” upon coming into view and slumping into a chair. “Well, okay, he sort of is, but not really. He’s an astral cat. He’s not even originally from our reality.” The elf paused and shrugged. “Think of him as a tiny person in a fur coat.”
A vaguely purple paw came into view and smacked Tasis’s hand. “Ow,” he said, shaking the assaulted appendage. “Oh come on, it was funny.” He frowned, looking as if he were listening. “I wasn’t making fun of you. Not really. You do act very person-like sometimes.” Another pause, and this time his expression went indignant. “What do you mean calling you a person is an insult? Do you want to go sleep with the wolf? He can drool on you in his sleep again.” The expression relaxed, and Tasis nodded. “Apology accepted. Now let me explain to Jorget what’s going on before he decides I’ve lost all sanity.”
“Too late,” Jorget admitted without thinking. He winced, but Tasis merely chuckled. Good, he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth again.
“No, I know it’s weird when you can’t hear him,” Tasis said. “And you probably won’t hear him until you’re on the isle itself. Our bond’s strong enough that he can talk to me while we’re still at least in Vashk’s realm, but once we’re out of his part of the sea, he won’t be able to talk to me much either. You’ll get to the isle and wish you didn’t have to listen to him nagging in your head all day.” This time the elf jerked his hand away before the paw could smack at it again. “Ha! You missed!”
Jorget surprised himself by laughing. It was a strange situation, but it had still been funny.
“So you made it to Arin’s okay?” Tasis asked. “You’re later than I thought you’d be, but Denekk warned me that they’d only given you the okay to take some half-dead ancient donkey.”
“I was afraid I was going to have to bury him before I got here,” Jorget admitted, relaxing a little. Tasis was easier to talk to than he’d thought, especially when Jorget forgot about him being some incredibly important guild leader. “But he’s in the stable now, so he can rest. And if he does die, someone else can bury him, but I have a feeling that he’ll survive just to spite me. Damn donkey.”
Tasis laughed, and it transformed his entire face. Suddenly he looked like the youth he was, and Jorget found himself grinning in response. He might even be able to be friends with this version of Tasis. “You sound kind of like my sister,” Tasis said. “She hates riding. Well, she hates riding horses, but I imagine she’d feel the same about donkeys. Arin fed you, right?”
“Of course I did,” Arin said from the other side of the kitchen. “What do you take me for, lad?”
“Only the best baker in the western world,” Tasis said smoothly, a mischievous grin flashing across his face as he gave Jorget a conspiratorial wink.
Arin let out a quiet huff. “That’s better,” he grumbled.
Tasis grinned again. “Seriously, though, enjoy the food. Arin’s a great cook, and food will get fairly basic once you leave Til’anu.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Speaking of leaving Til’anu….”
Jorget didn’t like the sound of that.
“I need you to make a brief stop on your way out.”
Okay, that didn’t sound as bad as he’d feared. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to pick up a giant.”
“Somehow I think you’re overestimating my physical abilities,” Jorget responded immediately, then cringed. Maker, he definitely needed to start thinking before he spoke.
But Tasis laughed again, dropping his face into his hands as he shook with mirth. “I didn’t mean it literally,” he finally said through his snickering. “Emlynn is one of us, and she needs an escort. She’s…. Well, she’s a runt, and her father’s worried that s
he’ll come up against danger she can’t handle on her own. Her father contacted me with this favor a couple weeks ago, and he’s someone I consider a friend, so I figure since you’ll be in the area anyway….”
“Okay,” Jorget said slowly, “But why not pick her up on our way back from the mountain?”
“Because she’s not used to the outside world, and I know you’ll be nice to her, if a little awkward. This will give her a chance to get used to things outside of her village.”
Well, that didn’t sound as bad as it could have, Jorget admitted to himself. “So if she’s a runt, she’s more the size of an average human?”
“Well, she’s seven feet tall,” Tasis admitted. “But that’s tiny for a full-grown giant. Her dad’s over twice that. She’s the size of a child in his eyes.”
“And she needs protection?” Jorget asked, not hiding his bewilderment. “I’m pretty sure she’d be protecting me.”
“It’s a matter of perspective,” Tasis pointed out, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of him. Suddenly the young elf was all guild leader, and Jorget found himself involuntarily sitting up straighter. “If you had a sister who was a full-grown adult, but only three feet tall, would you worry for her safety if she had to make a journey halfway across the ocean?”
“Well, of course,” Jorget said, not sure where Tasis was going with this.
“And yet, if she were traveling with gnomes, they’d think she was huge, and wonder why on earth she needed an escort,” Tasis concluded. “Perspective. To Whogs, his daughter is that three-foot-tall human.”
“Oh.” That made sense, and Jorget felt a little stupid for not having figured it out.
“You’re kind of dim,” Tasis said seriously.
This got Jorget’s back up, and he stood abruptly, glaring into the mirror. “Now see here—”