by Greg Curtis
Hendrick suspected Marda would be in Dumas Line with her son, but he hadn't heard. His mother would probably know. And the chances were that she was already meddling. Either sending assassins if she had any, or else making certain the King knew where Marda could be found. Her feud with the former First Wife had already lasted half a lifetime. She was not going to end it now. When she finally buried the hatchet it would be in the back of Marda's head!
Meanwhile the bards were making up songs about his father – the King who had now lost four wives. One to treason, one to betrayal of the heart, one to attempted murder, and the last because she was actually a monster.
And as they played their songs and laughed about the King, the realm was falling into complete disarray. Towns were being destroyed. Cities were being attacked. Refugees were flooding the roads, all of them heading in different directions. Armies were being hastily conscripted. The beast's servants were flying in the skies. And everywhere he went, confusion reigned. It was a disaster.
But what could he do? Especially now that he was officially a madman, forced to wander the city when he returned to it in a heavy cowl and gloves so he wasn't recognised. Marnie must have loved naming him as that he thought. She seemed to take a perverse delight in such things. Still he understood her reasons. And all he could do in the end was to find the one group of people in all the worlds that might be able to help. But so far they didn't seem to be interested in cooperating. He feared that they might never be. And he supposed he couldn't blame them for that. Not when the King had tried to kill them.
It was as he was thinking about that, that he finally felt the magic of a portal opening somewhere behind him, and he forgot his troubles and let hope take hold of his heart. Hope that the bronze people had finally grown curious. And that if they had, that he could persuade them to help.
Hendrick turned to face them, only to discover that they weren't there. He could see the portal – or rather he could sense it – his magical senses had grown much sharper since he had absorbed all the new spells. But it wasn't because of the spells themselves. It was because every day he now had to spend hours meditating, practising each and every spell he had. And something to do with all that meditation was changing him. It was making him far more sensitive to magic than he had been. Maybe it was working as he and Val had hoped?
Regardless of how he could sense their empty portal, the important thing was that no one had come through. Why? Why would you open a portal and then not come through? Whatever the reason was he quickly realised that there was only one way to find out.
“What? You opened a portal and then don't want to step through and talk to me? Am I that frightening?” He addressed whoever was on the other side.
“Frightening? Hardly!” The man's voice came from out of nowhere. “Annoying would be more accurate.”
“I could return the comment,” Hendrick retorted. But he was relieved that he recognised the voice. He might only have heard him once, while he was lying on the grass in pain, but he knew it. “But for the moment we need to talk about how your people are going to clean up the pile of bull droppings you left behind.”
“Bull droppings? We left no such thing!”
“Catastrophic disaster then. Mountain of horse shite. Call it what you will. One that I choose to believe you made thanks to bungling incompetence rather than actual malice.” Hendrick was blunt in his accusation – not that he could really blame them for what had happened. But after the self-righteous speech they had apparently given to everyone in the Royal Audience Chamber, he was sure they would be vulnerable to the criticism. They would feel the need to at least listen to him so they could defend themselves. He hoped.
“We did –.”
“You started a civil war!” Hendrick cut him off. “And at a time when we were already fighting the great beast's servants. A war that threatens our entire world! What would you call that? Pleasing? Satisfactory? A minor blemish on an otherwise spotless plan? Or despite your pretty words are you actually in league with the beast?” That last accusation resulted in an angry silence. Or at least he assumed it was angry. He couldn't see anyone's face to check.
“War?” a woman asked, finally breaking the silence.
“You publicly exposed the mistakes of an ageing king who had already made too many. You called him a fool and showed him as weak in front of his own Court. What did you think would happen?”
“We were attacked!” She raised her voice.
“Which you were prepared for thus proving you had some idea of the viper’s pit you were walking into. You'd spent days wandering around the city scaring everyone senseless and allowing the King's enemies to draw up their plans. And you'd refused to speak to anyone. If you'd just sent some messages! Told people what you were doing, why you wanted to see the king! Even just let it be known that you had come in peace! But no. You didn't. And then after you proved you were far more powerful than an impotent old man you gave a flowery, self-righteous speech exposing the King as having failed his people. I repeat, what did you expect would happen?”
“How are you now able to spot our spell when before you could not?” The man interrupted, something other than curiosity in his voice. Suspicion maybe.
“Changing the subject?” Hendrick decided then and there that he didn't want to answer the man's question. He didn't like where it was leading. And with the light in this world so strange and his hood up, he guessed the bronze people couldn't see the markings on his face or his sparkling grey eye.
“We did not intend to start a war.” The woman steered things back to what mattered.
“And yet you have. One that may kill millions. It will likely end in the enslavement and death of all those with magic. That is if everyone isn’t first killed by the great beast as he makes his new home in Styrion. What you wanted or didn't want to do seems unimportant. The question is only what you are going to do to fix it?”
“And I suppose you have a plan?” She sighed as if she knew he was going to ask them to do something they didn't want to do.
The instant she said it Hendrick knew that he could not tell them his plans, even as limited as they were. Whatever he said would immediately be discarded as coming from the same person who had accused them of starting a war. In a heartbeat his accusations would be tainted. He might only have been seven when he had left the family home, but he remembered his mother lecturing him on politics many times. Those who practised politics were like magistrates she'd kept telling him. They not only always had to be impartial. They had to be seen to be impartial too. Actually she'd said that the being seen was more important than the actual being.
“Don't be foolish! Do I look like a sage? I haven't even got the beginnings of a plan. That's why I'm here, making rubbings of ancient temples. It's the only thing I can do. I hope that the knowledge will be of assistance to my people, since I can't be. I can only wander the streets of the Hold in disguise – as you can see.”
“If you want to work out how to fix this you'll have to see Marnie and Tyrollan – and maybe my mother. But this time I'd suggest if you do visit, you do it in a way that you won't be noticed. Try not to start a panic – I mean, another panic.”
“Fine!” But she didn't mean it was fine at all. “Tell us what has happened and we will consider what we should do.”
“In brief?” He asked but immediately realised that of course they wanted it in brief.
“My father as you probably know wed Sana, who turned out to be the pawn of the behemoth. The behemoth took the capitol and my father was exposed as a buffoon and a failed king. In time he would have had to ceded the throne to his heir and my eldest half-brother, Daylon. It would have been unpleasant but civil.”
“But then you arrived, wandering around the city in your bronze visage and started a minor scare. The people of Styrion do not like magic or those who carry its markings. You met with Marnie, Tyrollan and my mother – Lady Peri, the King's fifth wife. That presented an opportunity for the First Wife
– Lady Marda who I'm told you met on the way to the Royal Audience Chamber – to get rid of her most hated enemy – my mother. You were not the target. So, she whispered in the King's ear that you were assassins in league with the behemoth.”
“Then you survived the ambush, gave your self-righteous speech and left. And in a heartbeat the King was shown to have made another terrible mistake. Trying to murder his only allies in the face of a nearly un-winnable war with our enemy. And shown to have failed as well. Then my mother added to his troubles by divorcing him. She saw that the throne was about to be lost and did not want to be lost with it. It was a calculated insult.”
“Lady Marda fled, ahead of treason charges. The King had to blame someone and she did not want to lose her head. The heir to the throne, their eldest son Daylon, launched a bid to seize the throne. He had to. The son of a traitor could never inherit. And so a civil war began.”
“Both sides have now decided that they need magic to win the war. So, both have their soldiers out rounding up the afflicted – people like me – and gathering all the fragments of magic metal they can find and are forcing us to acquire new spells. They have conscripted my people as magical soldiers for their armies. And so, those with magic have now dropped the final rung on the ladder from churls to slaves.”
That was brief, he thought. And it covered the important points. Except of course for the infernal engines. And he realised he had to tell them about those too. Before they blundered into another disaster.
“To add to our thrice cursed lives, we have another problem. You understand our system of magic?”
“Of course. It's strange, but simple.”
“No. It's not simple and it's not strange. It's corrupted. And it's a sword hanging over every one of the afflicted and probably the entire realm.” With that Hendrick went on to tell them about the seven ancient wizards and the threat to the kingdom that the magical engines posed. And he told them about what it was like to be afflicted in Styrion.
“You truly believe some of your people would try to reverse these engines? Even if it destroys the realm and kills them?” The man seemed unable to believe that.
“What would you do to get rid of a taint that has ruined your entire life? How far would you go? If you've been spat on, locked away, abused and ridiculed? If your family has suffered because of your taint? If every day you have to be absolutely sure not to make a mistake with you spells because you might be executed for it? Yes, some will. If there is even the faintest hope that they would be freed of their affliction, they will take that chance.”
Once he had finished, Hendrick let out a heavy breath and waited. There was nothing more he could tell them. At least he didn't think there was anything left. But he was wrong. As usual.
“And you? You cannot return?”
Hendrick was surprised by the question. Why were they asking about him? It seemed unimportant.
“I was already afflicted and so shunned. Now I have been named as having breathed too much of my Lord Vitanna's mist – demented and potentially dangerous. And since my mother has divorced the King I no longer have the protection of the Mountforth name. Added to that there are likely assassins on my tail. Walking the streets openly would be a risk which is why I know wear this everywhere.” He indicated his heavy cowl. “What of it?”
“Are you asking for sanctuary?” the woman asked.
“Sanctuary?” Hendrick was caught off-guard by the idea and had to think for a moment. “No. Why would I? I'm safe as long as I walk the worlds. And this storm will pass in time and I will return to my life as a brewer.” Then a thought occurred to him.
“But if you offer it, there may be many others who would welcome it.” A great many others he thought. Especially if more and more of the afflicted were being pressed into the army. It wasn't an easy thing to leave your home and everything you knew. But it wasn't an easy thing to live in Styrion for the afflicted either. And it was about to get harder.
“You don't seek sanctuary?” The woman sounded surprised. “You don't know what we can offer. Especially for a mage with some basic ability.”
That made Hendrick smile. Arrogance it seemed was a universal trait. As was dismissing him as a nobody.
“I will not abandon either my family or my people.”
“As you choose.” She did not sound pleased with his answer though. In fact, she sounded like she was offended. “We will discuss what you have told us, including your baseless accusations. And we may in time speak with your friends.”
With that they were gone. Hendrick felt the portal disappear, though he didn't fully understand how. But it didn't matter. He'd done what he had set out to do. He’d made contact with them. Perhaps he might have played a little with the truth and left a couple of things out. But he hoped his tactic would work. If they returned to Styrion it would be up to them as well as Marnie and Tyrollan and his mother.
His next task he supposed was to speak to them and tell them to expect a visit. First though, he needed to visit his mother. He could bring her another lump of gold and tell her what had been said. In the end this was a matter that called for subtlety and a quick wit, and for all her faults that described her perfectly.
But it could wait until after he'd finished making his rubbings he decided. There was no point in coming all this way and then leaving things half finished.
Chapter Thirty One
Rain was a good thing. Especially in the heat of the last days of summer. But not today Marnie thought. Not when it meant that the newest recruits were arriving at the barracks soaked through and miserable. Then again, maybe it was appropriate. These six people were more of those dragged to the city by the soldiers. In fact those same soldiers had even escorted them into the barracks, their muskets at the ready.
Marnie shook her head sadly as she saw them arrive. It had been like that since the King had announced his conscription nine days ago. Groups of half a dozen or so being brought to their barracks at the end of a musket. The army was making sweeps through the nearest towns, gathering up anyone who was afflicted, and giving them a dragon's choice – this or death.
And it was only going to get worse. As the soldiers started arriving from further afield, they would bring more and larger groups with them. Especially when they started coming from the cities. And Marnie had no idea where to house them. The barracks had been hastily finished, and close to two hundred people now called it home. They had used much of the remaining gold to buy half a dozen nearby houses and a warehouse, and another hundred and fifty people were sleeping in them, most of them on the floors. The Temple of the Benevolent One had a further eighty people sleeping in it. Yet more were sleeping in the gardens.
“That will be all.” She dismissed the soldiers coolly before turning her attention to the newcomers. Half a dozen more people who didn't want to be here. And they shouldn't be. They should be home with their families. But that wasn't her decision.
It also looked as though the King had gone back on his decision as to who would be conscripted. Of the six men and women in front of her, one was elderly and another still a child. The boy couldn't yet be fifteen she thought, and he looked like a guttersnipe. But what else should she have expected? The King was desperate, and most of his edicts were changing every day. But it might not be just his fault this time. A glance at how they were dressed indicated that these people had come from the smaller farming villages. And in any farming village or town, she doubted there would be more than one or two of their kind. The soldiers she guessed had just taken everyone they found there. It was better than coming back empty handed.
“I'm Marnie Holdwright, one of the leaders here. And I'm sorry you've been dragged here. It was not my choice. It's not any of our choice.” And if they didn't believe her, she showed them her arm, which was now covered from fingertips to shoulder with pale green lines. She had more spells now as did Tyrollan. Even they weren't excluded from the King's new regimen, and so they were taking it in turns to go through the c
eremony.
“I would guess you all know why you've been brought here?” She asked and quickly got some nods of heads and murmurs of agreement.
Of course they knew. The King's order had gone out nine days before and probably every city in the realm had received word. Pigeons were fast. By now the afflicted in towns across the entire realm were being rounded up like cattle. Or they were running. Her guess was that in a month or two, most would be here and the rest would be in hiding.
“Here's what will happen. Every seven days you will be brought to the temple of Tarius the Benevolent One. And there you will be expected to absorb three spells in what we call the ceremony.” It was what they'd managed to negotiate the King down to. It was also only a fraction more than the two spells every five days they'd had before. But the King had agreed to it because he'd made certain that more people went through the ceremony every day. And so, he still won. She had no doubt though that sooner or later he'd go back on his word anyway.