by Guy Antibes
The barely-blossoming trees drew her outside into the house’s garden. Her footsteps crunched the gravel paths. She turned the corner and found an older well-dressed man sitting on a bench. He held some papers in his hand, but evidently had been lost in thought. He turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry to intrude.”
The man’s skin crinkled around his eyes as he smiled at her. “Valanna, is it?” He stood. “I am Garono Dalistro, Misson’s father. Please sit with me.”
He owned the house, so Dalistro had told her. She obediently sat on the far edge of the bench and folded her hands and put her feet together, just as Sereni had taught her. Dalistro had told her that he once came often to the house, but in her months in Espozia, she had never met him.
“I am pleased to meet you, sir.”
“As am I, you. Are you finding your stay with us pleasant?”
“I have to remind myself that I am a prisoner, the surroundings are so nice.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have used the term, prisoner.
Garono straightened out his papers. “Prisoner might be too intense of a term, but my son keeps you here for your own protection. Espozia is not a friendly place to an independent magician, such as yourself.”
Valanna blushed. How much did Garono know of her? “I am relatively untutored, but I do have talent. Perhaps it is time that I left the city.”
Senior Dalistro nodded. “I have told my son that there might be challenges for us all in Espozia in the coming months. I’m afraid you have joined us at a time of increasing unrest.”
“Dalistro, Misson Dalistro, told me that just as he went out. I know so little of such things,” she said, dissembling. Would it work on this man?
He waved away her comment. “No need to use court politeness on me. I am aware of your lessons with Madame Barrazi.” His face turned grim for an instant and then he smiled. “You know more about such things than most in Espozia and Santasia for you have tasted the conflict first hand. My son may not have told you, but the guild seeks to replace the Santasian Council.”
“I know of the general aspects, but none of the details.”
Garono placed his hand on the papers. “Even I don’t have all of the details, but some are here and my son seeks more as we speak, at my command. The people of Espozia are restless, especially in Ozitza. We have let the poorer element remain poor and have not done as well of a job in attending to their needs. I’m afraid our humility and insight might have come too late. We can call out the army, but none of us want lives needlessly wasted.”
“Why don’t you show them that you care? You can build some parks, remove some restrictions on them?”
He looked at her with a hint of admiration that made Valanna blush. “Your instinct is correct. Misson goes to find out if it is possible to turn the sentiment around. The guild spreads lies about us that only make the better lives most of us lead in Estia seem like we are stealing from the people. Espozia is a city of boiling discontent. We have taken steps in case the pot boils over. We do not wish to be scalded.”
“What about leaving the city?”
The older man nodded. “If we must, Gorinza and the guild at Mozira among other cities in the south still support the council over Riotro’s guild.” He looked at the blossoming tree opposite the bench and the gravel path in between. “I will miss this house, should we have to abandon it.”
“But you don’t even live here,” Valanna said.
“I was born here and my father before me. Misson grew up here. I moved to the Council palace when I became its head seven years ago, but this is still where my heart is. You know, I planted that tree with my mother when I was eleven years old. She loved it because it blossomed so early in the spring. I come here for solace and peace and sit here often, especially at this time of year.”
“You don’t get along with Misson?”
“Not as well as I should. Our roles are acceptable to both of us, but it is better that we are not close as long as I am Council Head and he works for the Council, so I come here and stay in touch with my roots.” He laughed and pointed to the tree. “And those roots. I must go. It was most pleasant meeting you, Valanna, and I look forward to another conversation on a more positive note.” He gathered his papers together and bowed to her. “Have a good day,” he said, walking briskly from her sight.
How burdened Garono Dalistro must be!Valanna thought. He was nice enough. She could sense the discipline in his posture and bearing, but she had caught him in a softened mood. With her few friends and acquaintances, she wished she could have talked to him longer and that he shared meals with them rather than surreptitiously coming and going from the garden without anyone’s knowledge.
In a few ways, his tenderness showed through like her father’s had, softness poking out here and there under much stress. That stress had been too much for her father and he had died much too young. His older brother, her uncle, was a horrid man. She never did detect any softness from him and as she grew older, she had to fight off his more animal tendencies while behaving like a servant. Valanna still shivered at the thought.
She put her head in her hands, feeling herself sinking into depression, but she glanced at the blossoming tree and imagined a boy, not yet turning into a youth, kneeling at that spot, helping his mother plant a spindly sapling. Garono had not really admitted defeat and had recognized his error. He probably still worked on coming to terms with his situation. Valanna must do the same. She shook off the on-coming self-pity and sat upright, straight and tall, like that tree.
Appreciate the day, but look forward. She blushed in front of no one but that tree. She had forgotten the vow to become more independent that she had made on the way to Bitrium. Now how could she reframe the tools and techniques learned since leaving Balbaam to become a better, more capable person?
Valanna looked to the tree for inspiration.
~
Trak hit hard and then bounced up. He opened his eyes and saw the ground coming up to him, but he hit something soft again, like jumping into a lake. His feet and hands still kept him from twisting and controlling his direction and bounced off the side, hitting the actual ground, but from a height of about four feet. He’d have a few bruises, but now what would the Board do, decapitate him?
Someone came from behind and cut the bindings on his feet and rolled him over and released his hands. Trak didn’t like being bound, but he could not help sighing as he turned his head to see Ben with a knife, extending a hand.
“We leave now!” Ben said, pulling Trak to his feet. “Our lives are forfeit if we are caught.”
Trak’s mind whirled with the events. The fall had made him a little dizzy, but he staggered and followed Ben. He might escape with his life! The Board must have kept his execution secret, since there were only a few people milling about the square. At one end, Ben bent over one of two packs lying on the ground.
“Put this on.” He shoved a dark gray cloak at Trak and put one on himself. “Get your pack on and step on this wooden disk.”
The disk was just like what the Colcanans used in lifts. Trak knew instinctively that they would be going back up into the sky.
Ben made a pose. “Help me not fall off,” he even chuckled as he spoke the word that took them up into the air. Ben spoke another word to stop them.
“Now use a light wind spell and head us south.”
Trak did so and ended the pose after they had moved twenty or thirty feet to the north. “Keep at it before they start shooting arrows from the tower roofs,” Ben said without leaving his own pose.
The disk began to pick up speed as Trak put just a little more power behind his spell. They moved above Bitrium and soon headed over the fields that surrounded the city and then over the woods.
“Good enough,” Ben said. “It’s colder up here than I thought. We can stop for a moment or two.”
“I didn’t think anyone could travel in the air.”
“I’m an Innovator, right? I showed the Board how to do this
years ago, but they thought it unnatural, so now I have a chance to use my idea for a very good cause, to save you.”
They drifted down to the ground. Trak couldn’t remain standing any longer and sought out a nearby tree to lean against as he sat down.
“Where do we go now?”
Ben gave Trak a sad look. “I have an acquaintance in the Mozira guild. She has a place we can use to stay.”
“Not at the guild!”
“No,” Ben smiled. “Not at the guild. Her family had wealth and they reconnected with her after she was taken by the guild. She has always said I can use her old house if I needed to. She has outlived her immediate family and we can stay there while things shake out.”
“I can’t go back to Bitrium,” Trak said.
“No. Colcan was never a place for you, anyway. They are too conservative, too filled with the fear of change. We innovate, yes, but not on the scale that you already have. Honor came to me first, when she arrived at the city ahead of you. I told her to wait, but when she insisted that we talk, I learned how much your abilities had spooked the scout. He went right to Berin and described your devastation technique. Berin never did want me to train you.”
Trak put his hand on top of his head. The entire trial and rescue still circled round and round in his mind. “Why would Berin feel the need to kill me?”
“Fear. Nellus did much the same thing when he began to work with me, but Nellus being Nellus went ahead and used his magic to destroy five trees in an orchard. Honor was the one who went to the Board to tell on her brother. I couldn’t stop the Board from banishing him. Nellus’s power never came close to yours. I was stripped of my Dean title, although they still kept calling me by that ridiculous name. I don’t know what they’ll call me now. Probably some curse word.”
“Is that why she became a spy, fear?”
“Guilt, more than likely, I suppose,” Ben said while he pulled a wrapped loaf of bread out of his pack. He broke off a chunk for Trak. It had been sliced in two and buttered on the inside.
Trak didn’t realize how hungry he was. “She didn’t want me to die.”
Ben shook his head. “No, she didn’t. Give her credit for not joining with the rest of the Board. I suppose she hoped you’d be exiled like her brother.”
Trak shrugged his shoulders. “I’m as good as exiled.”
“We are,” Ben said, his eyes twinkling. “If you are willing, we can use this to travel all the way to Mozira. If we can hold on, we can make it in less than two days.”
Trak looked at the mountain peaks poking through gaps in the trees. “I’ll not be captured by the guild again,” he said. He looked at this wrist. The word worry now looked like a scar on his wrist.
Ben saw him looking and pulled back his sleeve. “I thought it a good idea, so I had it tattooed on.”
The tattoo was a light red so that wouldn’t be immediately noticeable. “We are prepared then?”
“For what I don’t know,” Ben said. “We shouldn’t go to Warish. If Asem escaped from there, that’s not a place to go. Santasia is only a stopping place. I hear the food is good in Bannin.”
“That’s on the other side of the world!”
Ben shrugged. “So? They allow magic. The culture is different. There are other countries in that direction on the South Continent. You can’t stay in the north.”
“What about Kandanna?”
“Too rigid. If you think Colcan is closed, Kandanna is worse. No, I say we go south or head into the central mountains to join up with the Toryans.”
“Wouldn’t they kill us?” Trak said.
“They attack others when they are attacked. Nellus spent some years with them before he headed to Pestle.” Ben looked around. “We need to be off.”
Trak looked at the wooden disk, still lying on the grass of the little meadow. “Fly?”
Ben laughed. “Anywhere on land. If we fled over the ocean, we’d have to take a ship. Our power would fade before we made it across an ocean. No, if we leave Cokasan, we will sail.”
“But we have no money.”
“What do you think is in our packs? Only provisions?” Ben grinned. “We will be well enough off.”
~
The pair of them headed north and flew over the mountains and landed in the forests on the Santasian side of the mountains. Ben couldn’t stand as long as Trak could, so they stopped to rest. Trak’s recent brush with death hadn’t improved his thinking skills. He didn’t want to just escape, but he what else could he do? For now, all he could do was accompany Ben.
“Is there a way that a person can lose their magical ability on purpose?”
Ben put his hand to his chin. “Now where have I heard that before?” He snapped his fingers. “Your father, Nellus.”
“He has gone by Neel for as long as I have known him,” Trak said.
“Neel, he wanted to soar among the magicians. As one of my advanced students, he nearly had qualified as an Innovator as a young man in his early twenties, but had one of many falling outs with his family due to his reckless use of poses. Honor told him to leave Colcan or she would expose him to the Board, so she did. I was on the Board back then and voted no, just as your aunt did.” Ben put his hands on his knees.
“After Neel went to Pestle and met a beautiful blonde woman whose father had just made the mistake of many lifetimes, they fled to the countryside and had you. Unfortunately…” Ben looked at Trak. “You’ve heard this before?”
Trak nodded his head. “My mother was a little free with her magic. She used poses to entertain my father’s friends. My uncle turned her sister and her in and they took my mother away. I never saw her again. I didn’t remember seeing her until I broke the guild’s loyalty spell and recovered all of my memories.”
“Neel did say it was her brother who turned her in. She loved life and it cost her own.” Ben shook his head in sadness. “He left you with an innkeeper friend—“
“Able Bluntwithe.”
“Yes, that is his name. Neel came back here one more time. He asked me the same exact question. How does one rid himself of magic?”
“Did you give him an answer?”
He nodded. “Stop posing or end your life. The ability to channel earth’s force through your body is something you are born with. Of course, if you forget the poses, you won’t be performing magic, but then you’ll forget the reason you want to stop using it.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“What difference is that from death? Your mind is gone either way.” Ben sighed. “Your father just stopped posing. As far as I know, he hasn’t done a lick of magic since your mother died.”
Trak balled his fists. “That’s what I will do. Magic has brought me nothing but misery. Hiding in Pestle, abduction into the Magicians Guild in Espozia and scaring the pants off of the Board of Deans.” He shook his head with dismay. “I’m not fit enough to live as a magician. Perhaps you should take my life and my dead body back to Bitrium. Perhaps they will let you back in that way.” He turned away from Ben.
“How old are you?”
“What?” Trak said. “What does my age have to do anything?”
“Perspective, Neel didn’t have much perspective back then. I think he has more now and some of that perspective isn’t happy, so he’s turned to drink, right? He returned to you and taught you how to do all of those forms. They aren’t much different from poses, are they?”
Trak had to concede that they weren’t. “I’ve been told that before.”
“Indeed, if he didn’t teach you those forms, would you be able to do magic?”
After a few moments, he had to nod his head. “I would, just not as well.”
“With your power, you might be dead, as well. Remember the fuzzy words?”
Trak nodded.
“A poor pose can do the same thing. Honor would not have taught you the sixty-seven basic poses if she thought you couldn’t be precise. Most magicians are only trusted with five or ten or twe
nty.”
“You’re a Master in the guild if you can do fifteen,” Trak said.
“And you know more than seventy, by now. You are close to mastering Innovation, if you haven’t already. You have saved your friends from death with your lightning sword trick.”
“It’s no trick,” Trak said, defending himself.
“No, it isn’t. You became a Purple Master. Isn’t that a lofty accomplishment? You actually remembered all of your poses, and that indicates such a great potential for power. You broke the bonds of the guild’s loyalty spell. I’ve never heard of a person doing it to themselves before.”
“Honor helped me.”
“Helped you remember, but even she needed Nullia to bring her back. I put this tattoo on my arm, but realistically, I don’t believe I could do what you did. And you want all of that talent to go to waste?”
Trak stalked around the little clearing pulling at his hair. “Everything and everyone has been against me! I, I’m not free to do what I want!”
Ben sat down on the grass and pulled at a long stalk, putting the thick end in his mouth. “Everyone has limits on their freedom. You realize that don’t you?”
“Yes, but they aren’t me!”
“No, they are who they are. Pick anyone else and they have certain freedoms and certain restraints. It is the acceptance of what you can and can’t do and then work within the limits that brings you satisfaction.”
“Neel isn’t satisfied. He’s working to save Pestle.”
“Of his own free will and choice. He will accept the consequences for his failure and celebrate his success, if it comes. Don’t you think that’s the way he sees it?”
“Yes.” Trak took a deep breath as he thought about his father. Neel didn’t just give up when his wife died. He didn’t have to give Trak to Able Bluntwithe, but he did and still showed up a lot to teach him what he needed to know.
Trak didn’t like Ben rubbing his face in his feelings, but he took another deep breath. “I understand. It doesn’t mean I have to like using magic.”
“For you, maybe that’s a very good thing, for your abilities need to be used with restraint.”