Tournament of Witches

by Jack Massa

  “I have spoken with Amlina about this a little. After she is healed, she hopes to be appointed Keeper of the Cloak. If that fails, she expects she may receive some other post from the House of Witches. As a high-ranking witch, she will need warriors to guard her house and accompany her on journeys. That could be a good life for all of us, and the klarn could stay together. That is what I hope will happen.”

  “I don’t know,” Karrol muttered without rising. “I’m not sure we’d be happy in such a life.”

  As Glyssa sat down, Eben bolted to his feet. “Well I, for one, think we would be happy Anyway, how can we know until we try?”

  “Because it is not a fit life for Iruks,” Karrol answered. “Far from the sea, from her own people, and with this blasted hot weather!”

  “Were you happy in the Iruk seas?” Eben shot back. “No! Wherever you are you want to be someplace else.”

  “Stop it!” Lonn jumped up and raised his hands. “This is a klarn meeting. Let’s keep order. If Eben has finished, I will speak next.”

  Eben clenched his mouth and sat down.

  Lonn said: “For myself, I find Larthang a pleasant enough land. If things turn out well for Amlina, I think I might like staying here. Of course much would depend on what Glyssa wants to do. Wherever she is happy, I expect I will be happy.”

  Glyssa smiled at him fondly and placed a hand on his knee when he was seated.

  Draven stood next, his expression somber. “These past seasons, I assumed that I would stay with Amlina no matter what. But lately, I am not sure. I still love her dearly. But I see how she suffers and it tortures me—because there is nothing I can do to help. I hope she is able to find healing, but I’m not sure how long I can wait. Also, I know that if she is cured and then satisfies her ambitions, she may change into a different person. Will I still love that person, or she love me? I don’t know. So, like Karrol, I can see myself leaving Larthang and going back to the Iruk seas.”

  A gloomy silence hovered over the group. None of them had expected these sentiments from Draven.

  As often happened, Brinda was the last to speak. Her words too, Eben found surprising. “Plainly, it’s too early to know what will happen with Amlina, or what other options the klarn may have. If we are given the opportunity to stay in Larthang with the witch, then we will each need to choose for ourselves. As to what I will choose, I honestly don’t know. I left this klarn once before, because Karrol insisted. I joined the klarn of Tallvis with her and then left that one too. I came on this voyage because Karrol agreed—at the very last moment. At some point, mates, I think I must stop chasing Karrol because I feel the need to protect her, and decide my course for myself.”

  She sat down, looking at her sister with an expression that was both apologetic and determined. For once, Karrol was speechless.

  Presently, Lonn stood and extended his hand to the center of the circle. “As Brinda stated so well, we must wait and see what happens with Amlina and what options we might have, before we can choose what the klarn will do. So, for now our decision must be to revisit this question after the witch’s course is set. Agreed?”

  After getting to their feet, the mates placed their hands over his.

  “Agreed,” they all said.

  Karrol grumbled: “Well, this was unhelpful. I am now more confused than ever.”

  

  When Amlina emerged from deep trance, a steward informed her that the paddleboat was now three days from Minhang. After dinner that evening, she attended Melevarry in her chambers. The Mage occupied a spacious cabin on the upper deck, at the square bow of the riverboat. Couches arranged in front of glass doors afforded a view of the broad, shining water and the shores drifting by on either side.

  Melevarry sat in company with her two apprentices, dressed in witch’s robes of varied colors. Yensia Meltai, the elder, was a small, solemn woman with a sharp chin, clad in blue and silver. Wenpheenae Chon, the younger was tall and slim, her garments brown and pale yellow. She watched Melevarry with a quiet deference.

  “Good evening, Amlina.” The Mage waved to the seat beside her own. “I trust you found the dark immersion replenishing.”

  Amlina declined a proffered cup of wine. “Yes, my lady. I am well enough.”

  In truth, she struggled to keep her anxiety and apprehension under control. The long journey up the river had worn on her nerves and allowed the unnatural rage inside her to fester. Melevarry scrutinized her, peering past Amlina’s pretence and likely discerning the truth.

  “I wanted to prepare you for what will happen when we reach the capital,” the Mage said. “Runners have been dispatched ahead, and we are expected. Yesterday, I received word that arrangements have been made for a representative of the Inner Circle to meet us when we dock. Doubtless, news of our impending arrival has also reached the Tuan’s court and from there the civil service and military. They almost certainly will also send envoys to the landing. This will probably include Wu Tong, the Tuan’s Primary Minister, as well as one or more high-ranking magistrates and generals.”

  Amlina nodded, digesting all this.

  “You will have to be presented to these envoys. When we leave the boat, I will walk with you and make introductions as necessary. They will insist on making speeches and offering you gifts. My aim will be to make these ceremonies as brief as possible and get you away to the House of the Deepmind.”

  Amlina nodded again. Melevarry’s expression darkened.

  “You should definitely wear the Cloak when we land. Also, instruct your entourage to follow immediately behind you. The envoy from the House of the Deepmind will be accompanied by a large detachment of Chrysalis Warriors. They should be sufficient to forestall any trouble.”

  Amlina cringed inwardly. “What sort of trouble do you mean?”

  The Mage frowned and shook her head. “Difficult to say. I do not think the Iron Bloc would try to seize you or take the Cloak in the midst of a public ceremony, but these are turbulent times and nothing can be ruled out.”

  Amlina was astonished. “That would mean openly defying the House of the Deepmind. Would they dare such a step?”

  Melevarry made a fatalistic gesture. “They have dared much these past few years, driven by ambition and the lust for conquest. If they appear on the dock with a large body of troops, or if Duke Pheng himself is present, that might be a warning sign.”

  “Duke Pheng?” Amlina frowned as a memory stirred. “The commander who tried to seize the Cloak in Fleevanport …?”

  “His nephew,” Melevarry said. “Duke Pheng is supreme commander of all the Tuan’s forces, and the leader of the Iron Bloc. A dangerous and unpredictable man.”

  “I see.”

  The Mage stood and stretched. “We must both be on our guard, Amlina—until the Cloak is safely handed over to the Archimage at the gates of Ting Ta Roo.”

  Amlina retired to her cabin a short time later. In spite of her deep trance, she felt frightened and inexpressibly weary. The taint left in her by the blood magic had grown active again, gnawing at her without respite. Now, as she neared the goal of her journey, she did not know if the healing she sought would be found—or if it was even possible.

  For a long while she sat on her bed, breathing slowly, staring out the open window at the flow of glimmering water. Eventually, she slipped into meditation, and then into a vision.

  The currents of the Deepmind flowed and broke like waves against a looming solid form. A towering rock formation? No, a structure black as obsidian sprinkled with flakes of light.

  The House of the Deepmind, Amlina realized. Drawing ever nearer.

  Would she find an end to her torment there?

  The vision shifted and a figure appeared—a small child dressed in rich regalia, with a round and laughing face. The child would assist her, Amlina thought. And glimpsed another, a tall witch in a silver robe, guiding her by the hand. Was it Melevarry?

  A new vision rippled into being. Amlina saw herself as a child, wandering
long ago on the moors of Shen Tong, the western province that was her home. She often traipsed the moors well into the dusk. Cold and lonely, it was still more pleasant than the home she shared with her mother—an angry, unforgiving woman whose approval she could never win.

  “Oh, poor Amlina.” A voice dripping with cruel sarcasm. “Your mama never loved you.”

  Amlina opened her eyes and traced a banishing sign. It had been many days since Beryl’s presence tormented her. “Begone,” she whispered.

  “I am not really Beryl, you know. I am yourself, your own hatred of yourself. You can never make me go away.”

  “I will make an end to you,” Amlina promised.

  “Do you really think so? You think the witches in Minhang will help you? You remember how they treated you before. Oh, they will receive the treasures, gladly. They might even promise help, but they will be laughing at you in secret. They will send you away somewhere and leave you there to die. Because that is really what you deserve. You know it, and they will know it.”

  Amlina sighed and repeated the warding gesture. “If that will be, then I will let it be. I will make an end of you, even if it means ending myself.”

  Sixteen

  As the paddleboat neared Minhang the shores of the gleaming river began to change. Irrigated flatlands gave way to gently rising hills marked by watchtowers, docks, and towns. On a warm cloudy morning, the boat passed the imposing castle known as Precious Stone Fortress. Beyond, the majestic city came into view under a silvery sky. It was the tenth day of Second Summer, twenty-one days since leaving Randoon.

  At first sighting, the Celestial Capital appeared to stand at the end of the Ling Va Troo, rising in tiers of crenellated walls and curved rooflines as far as one could see. But as the paddleboat approached, it became clear that the channel split into canals running off north and south. Amlina knew from her days here as a fledgling witch that the canals circled Minhang like a moat, ending upstream in the eternally-glowing Perfect Light Lake.

  The quay facing the river was wide and long, and this morning mobbed with people. A fanfare of trumpets arose when the paddleboat was still some distance from the city. The music and noise of the crowd only increased as the craft worked its way toward the docks.

  Amlina stood on the lower deck, hands hidden in sleeves, nervously clutching her forearms. She was dressed in her finest robe, an embroidered belt with her dagger, rings and bracelets, her moonstone fillet, and the Cloak of the Two Winds over all. In a satchel near her feet lay the Nine Scrolls of Eglemarde that she had taken from Beryl’s lair in Tallyba.

  Beside her stood Melevarry and her apprentices, arrayed in ceremonial finery. On Amlina’s other side, the Iruks and Kizier stared at the vast city. The Iruks had stubbornly refused Larthangan dress, wearing instead their hunting garb, light deerskin shirts and trousers, boots and their leather harnesses and sword belts. Melevarry had looked askance at their attire but made no remark.

  The Mage had counseled Amlina on what to expect when they reached the capital. Still, the spectacle of the city and the huge crowd overwhelmed and unnerved her. Her wildest dream had been to return to Minhang and receive such acclamation. Now, weak and frazzled, she only wished the day over.

  A boisterous cheer erupted as the paddleboat sidled up to the dock. Lines were thrown and secured and a gangplank lowered. Melevarry took Amlina’s arm and led her to the edge of the railed gangplank. They faced a throng numbering in the thousands, far larger than the one that met them on the quay at Randoon.

  Raising her arms and lifting Amlina’s wrist to conspicuously display the Cloak, Melevarry proclaimed: “Greetings, Minhang! I am Melevarry, Mage of Randoon. It is my honor to present to you Amlina Len Tai, noble witch of the House of the Deepmind, who has brought the Cloak of the Two Winds and other treasures back from distant shores. All hail Amlina!”

  The multitude shouted out the words of praise and welcome. Amlina trembled, her legs weak as the Mage led her down the gangplank. Kizier and the Iruks came after, followed by the Mage’s party.

  “Stay close to me my friends,” Amlina pleaded over her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” Draven laughed. “You won’t lose us now.”

  In the front ranks of the crowd was a party of witches in colorful robes backed by a battalion of male and female alatee warriors in scaled armor and feathered helmets. In the center stood a stern-faced witch in bronze-colored robes and a high, squared headpiece. She stepped forward as Melevarry and Amlina set foot ashore. Hands folded in sleeves, the witch bowed slightly at the waist. Taking her cue from Melevarry, Amlina returned the gesture.

  “Greetings, Melevarry, my sister, and to you, Amlina. I am Clorodice, Keeper of the Keys. It is my honor today to represent our esteemed Lady Drusdegarde and to conduct you to her presence.”

  “I thank you,” Amlina murmured, noticing the medallion of office Clorodice wore, a necklace fashioned of tiny copper and silver keys.

  At a hand wave from Clorodice, the warriors behind her separated, forming two ranks. Beyond them, a wide path was cleared through the crowd, leading to a gate in the city wall. Along the path stood more delegations—officials in rich robes grouped with assistants, body guards with spears and shields, musicians carrying horns, pipes, and gongs.

  “I see there are other welcoming parties,” Melevarry remarked dryly.

  Clorodice lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed. It could hardly be avoided.”

  They led Amlina forward at a slow march. She glanced about nervously, assuring herself that Draven and his mates still followed close at her heels.

  First she was introduced to the Harbor Master, and then the City Mayor, both portly men with small entourages who presented gifts and made brief speeches of welcome. But when they came to the third delegation, Melevarry stood rigid and instinctively grabbed Amlina’s wrist.

  A broad-shouldered warrior stepped forward, clad in grandiose armor and headpiece, a long curved sword in his belt. Behind him stood officers similarly dressed, and behind them, rank on rank of troops stood at attention, the tips of their long spears conspicuous over their heads. Amlina noticed an almost imperceptible tension come over the Chrysalis warriors as the commander of these troops stepped forward. Lady Clorodice gave an affable smile and courtly bow.

  “Greetings to you, Duke Pheng. You honor us with your presence.”

  The Duke had a wide face and tan, weathered complexion. His neat mustache and beard were flecked with gray. He showed a thin smile as he returned the bow.

  “It is my privilege, Lady Clorodice.” His eyes shifted to Amlina.

  Clorodice lifted a hand in introduction: “Lady Melevarry, Mage of Randoon, and Amlina, noble witch of Larthang, it is my honor to present Duke Trem-Dou Pheng, supreme commander of the Tuan’s armies. ”

  “I know the esteemed Mage of Randoon, of course,” the Duke said. “And this is the heroic Amlina. Indeed, it is a pleasure. A witch of such renown, I had not expected to find so young.”

  Awkwardly, Amlina gave a second bow. The Duke’s hand reached out, his fingers closing on her sleeve.

  “And this is the mighty Cloak?” He caressed the fabric. “Such an unpretentious garment. Unless one knew its power, one would scarcely guess.”

  Abruptly, Amlina yanked her arm away. “Yes,” she answered coldly. “Unless one knows its power.”

  A look of malice kindled in the Duke’s eyes. In Amlina’s mind, that look confirmed him as an enemy. She suddenly feared he would signal to his troops to charge forward and seize her. Incipient rage quivered deep in her soul, a wild impulse to draw her dagger and strike him.

  Melevarry interrupted the tension with a cheery smile. “My Lord Duke does us great honor to come here in person. Will you also accompany us to the House of the Deepmind—where Amlina will formally present the Cloak to the Archimage?”

  Duke Pheng seemed perplexed for an instant, but quickly resumed his courteous mien. He was about to answer when a trumpet blast erupted at the far end of the plaza.


  A moan of surprise and awe swept over the crowd. Through the gates came a giant palanquin, three stories high and carried by forty bearers. Enthroned at the top sat a tiny figure in glittering robes of gold and white.

  

  “Who is the little man in the big chair?” Karrol asked.

  She stood with her mates at Amlina’s back, surrounded by the Mage’s entourage and the warriors in blue-green armor.

  “That is the Tuan.” Kizier bent at the waist. “Everyone must bow.”

  Indeed, Eben saw that across the plaza the entire crowd was bowing, some prostrating themselves on the pavement, others simply leaning well forward.

  “Bow, mates,” Glyssa ordered. “We must be courteous to our hosts.”

  Awkwardly, Eben and the others followed her lead. Gongs tolled at the front of the Tuan’s procession and everyone resumed standing.

  “The Tuan looks to be only a child.” Eben spoke to Kizier out of the side of his mouth.

  “Indeed,” Kizier replied. “I had not realized that the old Tuan had passed. This one must be his son or other relative. I believe that makes him the 154th in the line. The Tuan is rarely seen outside the Celestial Palace. His appearance makes this an even more momentous occasion.”

  “But you have said,” Eben muttered, “that the Tuan is the supreme ruler of the land. How can that be if he is a child?”

  “Well,” Kizier answered with a shrug. “It is rather complex—like so many things in Larthang.”

  

  Amlina stared as the bearers placed the giant throne down on the pavement. She had not realized that the new Tuan was a child, and she certainly had not expected the Ruler of the Golden Land to appear here on the docks.

  In the hushed plaza, the Tuan rose from his seat and nimbly descended the stairs. A troop of officials and ministers who had followed his procession now came forward and arranged themselves at the foot of the palanquin. Three steps from the ground, the child ruler lifted his arms in his splendid robes. His high-pitched voice rang out strong and clear.