by J. P. Wagner
Had that contributed to the defeat at Fallen Hills? Surely it must have played its role, Carrtog thought. “Do I dare to hope that the King’s Magicians have continued to work at hunting out other such nests of subversion in the king’s lands?”
Enemantwin’s face turned grave. “Lord Carrtog, such activities as that are only brought to the public attention when the King’s Advisors think it useful. However, occasionally a prosecution and sentencing will be announced, one supposes to ensure that the public is aware that such investigations are going on. However, how extensive those investigations might be is hard to say.”
“Well, better than nothing. I don’t suppose the official investigators would appreciate any unsolicited extra assistance?”
Enemantwin’s face paled. “Lord, don’t even think such things too often! The men in charge of such magical counter-espionage have no sense of humor at all! The ability to read thoughts reliably has never been proven, though those same investigators have various abilities that are not commonly known. While a person of your stature would never be prosecuted for merely thinking such things, any evidence at all that you were trying to help them would lead to further inquiries, and very likely something would be uncovered with which to charge you.”
Carrtog considered the man’s reaction, seeing its similarities to Yakor’s warnings, and Enemantwin, taking his silence to mean the subject was closed, began his lesson.
#
“Contemplate the leaf of the linden tree!” He fumed to Yakor. “What is that supposed to tell me, I ask you? That it shares its shape with many a spear-blade, in particular many of the antiquated ones, that it is veined like any other leaf, and green when new? And aside from that, what?”
“I’m sure I cannot say,” the older man replied. “But you might consider that the man claims to be knowledgeable in plant-magic. Might this not be in the nature of a warrior familiarizing himself with a dagger before performing weapon-drills with it?”
Carrtog calmed himself, if only because he could hear the not-yet spoken term ‘boy’ in Yakor’s tone. “You’re probably right, of course. I wish that magicians were not always so mysterious; that they’d give you some hint as to what you were looking for.”
“And how much better will you retain the knowledge if you have to find it out for yourself with few or no hints at all?”
Carrtog forced out a smile. “You’re right again, of course. And you demonstrate once more that if I come looking for sympathy, I should not come looking to you.”
#
Enemantwin was not particularly impressed with the results of Carrtog’s contemplation of the linden leaf. “’The shape of a spear-blade?’ The sort of thing one can expect from a man whose first training is as a warrior. Not good enough, young man.”
Carrtog had the feeling that ‘young man’ from Enemantwin carried the same weight as ‘boy’ from Yakor. There seemed to be even less scope for response to Enemantwin than to Yakor, since Carrtog could only confess that he knew less about contemplation than any point of contention he might have with Yakor.
Enemantwin continued, “So let us both consider the linden leaf.”
When they were done an hour later, Carrtog was not sure what he had learned, and his mind was awhirl with a lot of new terminology, much of which seemed to refer to little outside of itself.
The last thing the elder magician said to him was, “Magic is, to a great deal, tied to the mind. It is said that if a person is well-enough trained, he can use a gesture,” he mimed a pistol-shot at the wall with his thumb and forefinger, “and achieve the same result for which another will require the actual combustion of powder. This is still only theoretical, and to my knowledge, no one has accomplished it, but it is a goal toward which we all work.”
By this time, Carrtog was sure that he was going to need every little bit of help gunpowder could give him, though he wasn’t willing to say so out loud.
#
Carrtog was deep in another lesson, from Gwaitorr this time, when the king strode in. “I hope, Lord Gwaitorr, that you won’t mind if I interrupt your lesson to speak to your student a moment.”
“Certainly not, Your Majesty.”
The king gestured to Carrtog, and they stepped aside, Carrtog’s mind awhirl with thoughts of pulleys and gear-ratios. Gwaitorr had been less understanding than Enemantwin. “Think of the advantage of bringing a force of fresh cavalry to a battlefield, rather then bringing them up worn with forced marching? The difference might well be made up with mechanics.’”
Carrtog glanced down at his ring and wished that it would consider the sudden appearances of the king to be a sort of danger. There was a sort of danger in every instance in which the king interfered in his life. The latest discovery of such having come from the reaction of the lords at the granting of his title. Any move by the king to reward Carrtog further would invoke more jealousy among the other nobles. And as Yakor had pointed out, it may not take much to upset the king’s mood and find him at fault.
The king was smiling though, which seemed to indicate no immediate danger. Of course, that did not mean that any decision of the king would not mean danger in the future.
“One very important duty for a noble, Lord Carrtog, is to marry and produce an heir. To that end, I propose to arrange a marriage between yourself and the Lady Adengler.”
“With the Lady Adengler, Highness?” he protested. “I have had little chance to speak with her father, yet, let alone to speak more than a few everyday words with the Lady herself.”
The king waved a hand at the objection. “As to that, her father is overjoyed at having his daughter serving as lady-in-waiting to my daughter. If I suggest to him that his daughter be given to a new lord, one who has my favor, he will be ecstatic. As for your second objection, you don’t suppose, do you, that I have missed your glances at her, and her glances at you? Besides which, our little party suffered extremely close quarters on our way down from the North; you will recall that the situation almost forced us all into near-familiar terms.”
Carrtog felt his cheeks redden. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” What he really wished he could say was some very polite and inoffensive form of, “Your Majesty, please stop interfering in my life.” Of course, such a polite and inoffensive statement did not exist; one thing worse than having a king too interested in giving you a hand was a king offended at your refusal of his aid.
The king seemed thoroughly delighted at Carrtog’s discomfiture. “Now back to your lessons, Lord Carrtog. I expect you to be of increasingly better service as time goes on.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
#
Carrtog considered himself fortunate that he was of sufficient age that his tutors did not dare to use a wooden rod to accentuate their lessons as they might for a young boy. On the other hand, they were capable of using sarcasm and biting humor to the extent that Carrtog would almost have preferred the hickory.
As the lessons progressed, he did manage to ask some of the questions he had thought of on the trip from the North. He chose Gwaitorr, hoping that the younger man would be more approachable.
“Sir, on our first night up north, I put a warding spell around the camp, and in the wake of it, I found that several of the wounded were in better condition. My tutors had mentioned this as an occasional and sporadic effect of the warding spell, but had no explanation as to how it worked, and even less explanation of why it did not work on some, while it might work on the man next to him. Do you know if anyone has made a study of this matter, and what conclusions they might have come to?”
Gwaitorr’s eyes widened a bit. “Ah, the young student desires to push his learning beyond that of his teachers? No, young man, I have not studied that particular magical quirk, nor do I know of anyone who has. You could ask my colleague, but I suspect his answer would be an even more brief and pointed suggestion that you concentrate on the studies
we are giving you and not on complex theoretical problems.”
Chapter 9
Yakor approached him one afternoon. “Lord, I’d like to talk to you privately. Could you meet me this evening at the inn known as The Overflowing Keg?”
If Yakor had a reason for meeting him outside the palace, it was undoubtedly a good reason, so he agreed.
That evening he made his way to the inn and looked it over briefly before entering. It was neither of the finest quality, nor so dilapidated as to suggest the possibility of personal danger from its regular patrons.
It was dimly-lit inside in the fashion of inns everywhere and contained the usual scents of wood-smoke, burning tallow, stale food, and people unused to bathing. After a moment, his eyes grew accustomed to the light, such as it was, and he saw Yakor waving at him from a table across the room where he sat with five other men.
He recognized one of them as Roisilan Harrad, though he was not in uniform. The other four were the other soldiers who had traveled down from the North with them.
Curiosity made him move quickly across the room where Yakor swung out a stool for him. “Roisilan asked to talk to you privately, so I arranged for us to meet here.”
There was a pause while a harassed-looking barmaid took their order for another bottle of wine for the table and a cup for Carrtog. Carrtog then turned to Harrad and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“Well, Lord, we’re not sure of that, but we’re hoping you could perhaps give us some advice. Just this morning, you see, we were informed that the king no longer needed our services. No reason was given, but that was the condition of our hire, that His Majesty could dispense with our services at any time, with no reason needing to be given.”
Of course, Carrtog thought, His Majesty will not say that he is dispensing with their services for fear that they might spread tales about His Majesty’s behavior on the trip down from the North.
Roisilan went on. “We’ve been paid up to and including today, though they need not have paid us for today. No commands were given, but it was suggested to us that we’d best not stay around the city beyond the week’s end. Now we have a problem; if a person is dismissed from the king’s service without a reason being given, how likely is it for that person to find any other lord to take their services? So we thought that you had led us well on the trip from the North, and we hoped you might be able to give us some advice.” He paused then, waiting expectantly for Carrtog’s response.
Carrtog, for his part, thought furiously before speaking. If he did anything for the five and the word got back to the king, he himself would be in serious trouble. In fact, there was a risk that the king might find out about this meeting despite their attempts at concealment. This might even be a ploy by the king, an attempt to catch Carrtog working against his purposes.
But no, that was not the way Bornival worked; he simply decided that someone was, or was not intending to do something against him, then he acted to remove the problem.
This is not the way to think! He told himself. What can I do, not ’what are the reasons for not acting.’
“I’d take you into my own services, but I doubt that would be a help to either of us. Give me a moment to consider.”
He thought deeply for another moment, then looked up. “How about if I give you a letter of introduction to my grandfather? My personal good word will almost certainly outweigh the king’s lack of recommendation.”
He stopped himself on the brink of warning them against boasting –– that would be an insult to their intelligence.
“Can you stay here for another day or so? I’ll send Yakor down with a letter from me to my grandfather.”
Roisilan nodded. “For certain, Lord. As I said, His Majesty in his generosity paid us up to today. We will wait at least another day.”
As they were returning to Carrtog’s room, he said to Yakor, “I’m going to have to word my letter to Grandfather carefully. I believe I was correct, that he will take my assurances as to the quality of the men I send him, but I’d best make sure.”
“I agree. And by the way, I think you did very well back there; you could have sent them off with a spoken message, but a letter will be much more effective.”
“Thank you.”
He sent Yakor off the next day with the letter, as well as a small pouch of silver. “To help with travel expenses.”
#
The next day Enemantwin sent him off to the Royal Gardens with instructions to find a particular herb with only the wizard’s verbal description — given some weeks before — to go on.
Enemantwin’s directions as to how to find the herb were extremely vague, though he did assure Carrtog that, “It is there, at least it was last night, and the Royal Gardener does not work that fast.”
Carrtog was trying to find the first landmark Enemantwin had given him when he heard the sound of women’s voices. He could not make out the words since they were some way to his left with several small stands of trees and other plants, large and small, between him and them. He did, though, recognize the two voices; one was the Princess Ellevar , and the other was Lady Adengler.
Setting aside the instructions of his tutor, he followed the path toward the sound of the voices, telling himself that it was only polite to let them know he was in the Garden in case they were talking of private matters.
The sound of the voices was coming from his right front, but even if he were willing to trample on the flowers to come to them directly, there were bushes, even small trees between him and them, so he found the next cross-path and looked down it. No one. He continued on the path he was going and realized that the trees and plants in the garden muffled the sound, so he needn’t have worried about accidentally eavesdropping. On the other hand, they seemed to be moving, and moving generally in his direction, so best he should carry on as he had intended.
He looked down the next cross-path, but it curved to his left a little way down, and the voices seemed to be coming from around that curve. He walked down the path.
He came to the curve, and now he could see them; Princess Ellevar and the Lady Adengler strolling casually toward him.
The princess looked up and saw him first, and he saw the smile on her face as she spoke to Lady Adengler. Lady Adengler looked up, smiling, and called out “Hello, Lord Carrtog.”
The two were similarly dressed with a ruff around the neck, a ruched neckline, and a fitted bodice above a full skirt. Their arms covered by puffed sleeves ending in long lace cuffs. Much of this was covered by cloaks in royal blue, fastened by knotted frogs at the neck, though the cloaks opened sufficiently in the front to reveal that the skirts were plaid, the royal tartan for the princess, and the family tartan for the lady-in-waiting.
Carrtog could see subtle differences in quality of the cloth, and it seemed that the princess’ seamstresses had had slightly better material to work with. On the other hand, Lady Adengler’s clothing was only slightly inferior, probably because, on the one hand, she was expected to present a decent showing on her mistress’ behalf, but on the other hand, she must not put the princess in the shade.
“Hello, Your Highness, Lady Adengler. I heard you speaking and thought I ought to make my presence known, so as not to be thought a rude eavesdropper.”
The princess spoke up, smiling, “I would never think that of you, Lord Carrtog. Are you enjoying the Royal Gardens?”
He returned the smile. “Not as such, no, though I will admit they are quite remarkable. Actually, I am here as part of my training; Master Enemantwin has sent me to find, based on his rough description of the plant and its location, something called goat’s foot. One of its most common usages is in the treatment of inflammation, though I believe it has other more magical uses as well.”
“Very interesting. And how are your studies coming?”
“I am continually learning how little I know. I had commented
several times on the way down from the North how limited my knowledge of combat magic was, and your father has introduced me to two gentlemen whose purpose is to increase my ability whether I wish it or not.”
“Come, now, Lord Carrtog, I’m sure you appreciate the teaching more than you let on!”
He smiled broadly. “Yes, I suppose so. When I go to join the Army in the North, I will be more ready to be of use to them.”
“You expect to join the Army, then?” Lady Adengler spoke up.
“That depends on where His Majesty thinks I can best be of service. All my training would suggest that I could be best used in combat. As I said, though, that is all in the king’s hands.”
“What do you know of the war in the North?” asked Lady Adengler. “We are told very little, since we are ladies, and young ladies at that. We have to make do with bits and pieces that we overhear from our elders.”
“I’ve heard the general had trouble feeding his troops.”
He looked at the princess. “That’s true, but the general was using the railroad line that your father built up into that territory and building extensions on it to continually move his magazines forward toward the advancing troops. Unfortunately, the further north he took the lines, the more difficult it was to protect them from destruction by the rebels.”
“How interesting!” The princess turned toward Adengler, bringing her back into the conversation. “That means that the North will have all those ready-built railroads when this trouble is settled!”
“My understanding is that the general had been tearing up any lines that will not be of use to him as he moved. Of course, the roadbeds are left; too much trouble to tear them up as well, so in a sense, you’re right. All they’ll have to do is lay lines on the beds again, and they have a whole net of railroads.”