Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda

by Will Greenway

  “That was just power,” Bannor protested. “Naked strength. Me bringing Wren, Ziedra, and Daena into tight focus.”

  The other man ran a hand through his hair. “Far be it for you to over simplify.” He sighed. “Well, leave it to say that, yes, we can teach you that and a great deal more, and it will not be overly onerous. Dulcere and I will learn the rituals ourselves to ensure that nothing is overlooked.”

  Bannor put hands on hips. “Just like that? Just snap your fingers and learn it?”

  Corim looked down, found his sword and sheathed it and placed it on a bench. “Friend, that is the major difference between yourself and I. I enjoy academics. The opportunity to study and learn new things is not only a privilege—but a pleasure. Let me give you an example, you saw Wren demonstrating her art did you not?”

  “Sure.”

  “How many moves were there?”

  “A lot. Like sixty or so.”

  “Sixty seven. Twenty-two blocks, twenty-two kicks, and twenty three punches and transitions.” He stepped back and performed the same flourish of the hands almost exactly as Wren had. He stepped through several of the movements with fluid precision. He paused part way through. “I could continue, but you get the point. I can learn it from one demonstration and I don’t have your natural facility for patterns. So, first we will teach you how to learn. Then you will learn. In the short term, we shall take such shortcuts as necessary to meet certain deadlines as the one tonight.”

  “Shortcuts?”

  “Physical skills and coordination are not the same as ordinary memorization, they take greater time to absorb. For that, we have some Kriar magic that will suffice.”

  “Telepathic teaching?” Wren asked.

  Corim nodded.

  The savant pushed out her lower lip. “I wondered if such a thing existed.”

  “Tele-what?” Bannor snapped. “You mean just dump the skill in my skull? I’ve had that done before with a language. No way. That hurt like hades!”

  “A language?” Corim asked. “A whole language? Interesting. How long did it take?”

  “A few beats maybe—I thought I would die… I am not going through that again to learn some silly pipes!”

  The burly man rubbed his chin. “Absorb an entire language in a few instants. That would be—” He blew his air out. “Stressful. This procedure would have no such duress. The volume of information is considerably smaller, and the time over which that transfer would take place much larger. I admit the procedure does create an ache of sorts, a discomfort about half the magnitude of a common head pain.”

  Bannor frowned at him. “You’ve done this yourself?”

  Corim nodded. “Aye. When there isn’t time for a long briefing prior to a mission the information is given mind to mind. There’s also been need for me to quickly learn the use of Kriar artifices.”

  “Really?” Wren asked. “What kind of artifices?”

  “I needed to operate one of those void ships like we were on.”

  “Whoa,” the blonde savant seemed truly impressed. “Was it hard?”

  “How can I describe it?” Corim said, pausing. “It’s a little like riding a horse. Getting on and getting it moving is the easy part. It’s turning and stopping that can be, ummm—complicated—especially when people are trying to kill you at the same time.”

  Bannor rubbed the back of his head. “Spur of the moment, trying to learn something totally new while something is trying to pulp you; glad, I don’t know what that feels like…” He rolled his eyes.

  Corim raised a finger and grinned. “It’s good reinforcement, you remember what you learned though, eh?”

  He eyed the man sidelong. “Small consolation; really small.” He sighed and looked at the two studying him. “I hope I don’t regret going along with this.”

  “I don’t think you will, Bannor,” Wren said. “I haven’t known Corim long, but Tal and Beia trust him—Koass had confidence enough to put him in the Protectorate.”

  Bannor waved her off. He thumped Corim on the shoulder. “I trust this fellow. He’s straight as an arrow.” He leaned toward Wren. “It’s just he hasn’t been around you and me long. Even the simplest thing can just go… bad.”

  The blonde savant winced then laughed. “Okay, based on that, I understand your hesitation. This is so straightforward, I don’t see how poor luck can mess it up.”

  He shook his head. “The mind boggles.” He paused. “Still it’s better than no plan at all. Thinking of plans and teaching there is something…”

  “What’s that?” Wren asked.

  “I think you, me, Daena, Ziedra, and probably your father and brother should start practicing to work together.”

  “I—” Wren stopped. “That’s a good idea. We just need someplace safe.”

  Bannor laughed. “Someplace open I’d think, if our last experience was any example.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Corim said. “I don’t think it’s advisable to practice where you can be observed. The best place is in Eternity’s heart. I can get clearance for you. It is in support of our case against the Baronians, yes?”

  “For the most part,” Bannor answered.

  Corim turned his head. “Say ‘yes’.”

  Bannor’s brow furrowed. “Okay, yes. Even so, how will we go back and forth?”

  “Posh, a trivial detail. Both Dulcere and Radian can go between here and there. Aarlen, myself, Beia, Sen… That’s to start. Koass gave our task-force any ‘reasonable resource’ in the pursuit of the mission objectives. Transport to and from a secure practice area for you to perfect your ‘anti Baronian’ techniques will be not be a hard sell I assure you.”

  “Anti Baronian?” Bannor repeated. “That’s not—”

  Corim held up a hand. “Shhh. I’ve learned that nine tenths of bureaucracy is what you call something.”

  Wren was stroking her neck. “You know, I think I better get Damay involved in this…”

  Bannor looked at her. “Who’s Damay?”

  Wren raised an eyebrow. “What, in all your snooping, you never sensed there were two force savants?”

  “Huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Two?” He entered his Nola sight tracing back Wren’s pattern back to its prime source in the pool where all Savant’s gained their power. It was that pool that allowed him to trace Daena when she hid herself. His knowledge of her pattern made it a simple matter to find and follow her threads. He had never really consciously scanned through the masses of threads to catalogue how many savants there were. He found a set of threads suspiciously like Wren’s, followed them to their terminus and jerked back. “Whoa! She’s powerful.”

  Wren nodded. “Oh yeah. More powerful than the four of us put together.”

  “Where has she been while we’ve been in all this trouble?”

  “Well, before you and Sarai messed up all my plans, she was the one I was going to talk into training you. She has no way to teleport so she couldn’t catch up to us even had she known.”

  “Oh.”

  “Am I correct in assuming this is Damay Alostar, the force savant of legend?” Corim asked.

  Wren nodded.

  “I am a trifle hazy on this, but the histories say she died. It was—” He paused. “Aarlen—who killed her.”

  “Actually, Aarlen captured her.” Wren corrected. “Gaea freed her. I restored her.”

  “Fascinating,” Corim said with a nod. “Well, I believe we’ve talked enough. It sounds like we have our agendas for the day. Let’s get some good practice in before breakfast. Bannor I see you have your axes, join us?”

  He looked down at his axes and put his hands on the worn hilts, and pulled them out. “Yes,” he said with a nod. “It’s time to start training. I have a feeling I’m going to need it…”

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  Complications

  « ^ »

  Some of my kin have arbitrarily labeled Bannor as dull and slow. They do not know my One as I do. He is s
omewhat coarse and obviously uneducated, he is however, far more clever than anybody realizes. I myself have witnessed how quickly he adapts. It can be quite unsettling at times…

  —Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran,

  Third Princess of Malan

  Training with Corim and Wren turned out to be a far more enjoyable experience than he anticipated. Corim was obviously a teacher by trade and spoke with a patient insightful authority that invited respect. Though most of what they did was simple pattern drills, there was also tactics and why certain combinations of attacks and defenses worked better than others.

  Sarai came upon them some half bell into the endeavor. When she saw Bannor training with them, the smile she gave him was so genuine and warm it made him tingle inside. He had always shooed away her prods to practice with various excuses thinking it was more habit than a real desire to share something with him. The glow in her violet eyes and her eagerness to join showed he could not have been more wrong.

  By the time they needed to break for breakfast, they had a gathered several more participants and observers. The secluded yard echoed with the rustle of clothing, the rasp of boots on stone, and the rush of breaths of exertion.

  Though obviously neither needed the practice, Senalloy and Dulcere followed the drills with quiet serenity. In that patience, Bannor saw each one’s feelings for Corim.

  The whole De’Falcone family, husband, wife and daughter joined the drills as a unit, following along with the earnest zeal that was so characteristic of Laramis. To see the broad shouldered Justicar stepping and turning next to his giant wife and reedy daughter reminded Bannor of the kinships that had managed to flourish in the face of all the adversity of the past two seasons.

  Voluptuous Ziedra and her gold husband came, the dark-haired wife floating down to sway gracefully next to Wren and perform with a dancer’s studied perfection.

  Each person had their own reasons for taking part, but in Bannor’s mind it was the unity expressed that was important; strangers become allies, burgeoning on true friendship.

  At breakfast time, they split up to go their own ways. Corim, Senalloy, and Dulcere were to have a private meeting with Queen Kalindinai and King Jhaan. Laramis and his family were meeting with friends that had traveled north from Coormeer to visit him. Wren, Ziedra, and Radian were going into town to have some sort of family gathering between Wren’s parents and the gold man’s. Bannor guessed it must be something special because at the mention of the Felspar family Sarai took a distinct interest.

  With everyone elsewhere that left Bannor and Sarai alone to stroll back to their quarters. Sarai was glowing and happy. Had he known a little exercise would make her this cheerful he would have done it sooner!

  “That was nice,” Sarai said, humming quietly next to him. They took their time, following the meandering concourse the came up behind green run. It was the long way back, but neither of them was in a hurry. Morning birds chattered in the boughs overhead, the high pitched sounds contrasted against the rush of the river spilling through the rock cascades along the trail.

  Bannor ran his hand along the smooth bark of the trees along the walk. He glanced over at Sarai with a raised eyebrow. “Even with Wren there?”

  She raised her chin and smiled at him. “My One, you know she and I get along fine now.” She paused and sniffed a dew-covered flower just opening its petals to the rays of the sun. She sighed and looked up at him. “What I don’t like is that she gets you into trouble. However,” she rose, reached out and gave his ear a tug. “She couldn’t get you into trouble if you didn’t go along with it.” She bumped him with her hip and pulled him down the path.

  “Star, you got me into that mess. You wanted me to spy on Janai and Daena, and they were being called to task by the Eternals.”

  “Hmph. I think you did a lot more than was called for.”

  He reached out to the ring Senalloy had given him hanging on a chain around her neck. Sarai hadn’t taken it off since he gave it to her. “It’s how I got this for you.” He jingled the ring on the chain.

  She looked down at the ring and frowned. “Well…” She sniffed. “Just because I love this beautiful ring, don’t think I have to like what you did to get it… especially without telling me first.”

  He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to win that battle, best to change the subject. “I noticed you took an interest when you heard Radian’s family were in the city. Are they something special?”

  Sarai nodded. “Oh yes. They are a strong family indeed. They are the power behind the King of Ivaneth. Though they do not much interfere in his affairs, they are the muscle that sets things aright. Corwin has suffered peace with Ivaneth because of them.”

  “Are they bad?” He asked. “I mean will it be trouble for them to be here?”

  “I doubt they are here to create any mischief. It’s really not their way. I surmise they are mostly interested in Wren and yourself.”

  Bannor’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

  “They’re a family of mages—research.”

  “Oh. That’s right, Janai mentioned that they came to visit while I was still recuperating from the fight.”

  “Indeed.” Sarai nodded. “Mother shooed them away.”

  “How does Wren’s family know them?”

  She shrugged. “The girl gets around.”

  “That’s—” He cut himself off, pausing in the trail and taking Sarai’s arm and pulling her to the cover of a tree.

  Sarai obviously felt his tension, and looked around for the source of his alarm. “What?” She whispered.

  “There,” he said nodding across river to a cluster of rocks on the far side. Hunkered down to avoid observation from the main avenue running through the trees bent a tall dark-haired elf dressed in flowing blue court robes chased in silver. He stood opposite another elf wearing the mail and livery of Griffin Elite, the guards that served in the defense of Citadel.

  “So, it’s uncle Bertrand,” Sarai said casually. “Why are you making a fuss?” Her brow furrowed. She slid down next to the tree making sure to conceal herself. She answered her own question. “It’s so early and why is he talking to one of Father’s guardsman?” She frowned, as they watched Bertrand listen to some kind of report and getting visually agitated. The noble was obviously nervous because he kept glancing around to verify that the two of them weren’t being observed. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” she asked.

  Bannor shook his head. With fifty paces separating them and the fast running stream frothing through the rocks, it was difficult to even detect their hushed voices much less make out words. Their threads he could see, and the emotions visible in their threads only made clearer the feelings portrayed by their body language. The guardsman’s threads were shot through with grays and reds, tension, dismay, resignation—someone being forced to reveal information. Bertrand’s threads glowed orange with the anxiety of frustration, tinged with the dark blue and black of concern. “From what I can see of their threads. Whatever the guard is telling him, it’s under duress. Bertrand isn’t real happy about what he’s hearing. He’s frustrated about something…and worried.”

  “Worried about what?” Sarai pondered in a whisper.

  The noble’s fists were clenched as he asked questions and nodded in response to the answers. The guardsman’s body was hunched as though under great weight, his shoulders rounded and his long fingered hands splayed in gestures that pleaded for understanding. It didn’t take the power of a Nola to see he was a messenger who didn’t want to get punished for bearing bad news.

  “Do it, Bannor, I know you can.”

  “Do what?”

  “Astral travel over there and listen in.”

  “Star, I don’t speak elvish, remember?”

  “Damn it,” Sarai thumped her forehead with her fist. She growled and looked around. “I swear, when we don’t need them, we’re up to our armpits in savants, mages, dragons and aliens. When we could really use their help, they are
n’t around.”

  “I can get Daena here,” he offered. “She can teleport here in an instant.”

  “Do it—” She cut herself off. “Never mind, they’re done.”

  Bertrand had dismissed the guardsman with a snarl audible to their hiding spot. He watched the armored elf until he disappeared through a gate before turning and stalking off in different direction. From the scowl on his face, and vibration in his threads, it was clear he was heading off to do something he didn’t want to do.

  When Bertrand was out of view, Sarai made a quick move to stand. “We have to—oooh,” She staggered, her shoulder thudding against the tree as she put an arm to her abdomen and a hand to her suddenly pallid face.

  A shock went through Bannor making his heart jump in his chest. “Star?”

  “Mmmm,” Sarai let out a sound with a grimace.

  He gripped her shoulders. “What’s the matter?” He didn’t wait for a response, but dipped into his nola sight. He immediately saw that her threads were markedly dimmer than normal. The unborn’s threads were lit up in brilliant hues, strong—almost too strong. The baby’s threads pulsed, and as they did, Sarai’s energies seemed to dwindle.

  Silvery hair falling around her face, Bannor felt all her weight come down against his hands, forcing him to lower her to the ground. She was trembling as though cold.

  “Dizzy…” She muttered.

  As he thrashed in the grip of deciding what to do, the activity of the baby subsided. The drain on Sarai appeared to have subsided. Slowly, her threads were beginning to return to their normal brightness.

  His wife-to-be sighed. “Whoa.” She moaned. “I can barely move.”

  “Just lay still.” He felt a knot twist in his stomach. Being afraid to accept help is what got he and Sarai into trouble before. He didn’t know what he had seen meant, but didn’t think it meant any good. He needed the help of someone who knew something about such things.

  He closed his eyes, visualized his link to Wren, and sent a thought to her.

  Through his link to the blonde savant he felt her convulse, giving the mental impression of someone swaying back and almost falling out of a chair.