by Colt, K. J.
Now I was off balance again, “Clothes?” I said stupidly.
“You can’t be wearing those if you expect to rub elbows with the Duke’s family, much less the guests who’ll arrive tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose as she indicated my simple attire. I had worn my best tunic which only had a few patched spots. Mother had even washed it for me this morning, so there weren’t any stains.
“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” I replied grumpily.
“Not if you’re planning to muck out the stables,” she retorted, “but for Master Eldridge, scholar and gentleman, they simply won’t do.” She indicated the clothes laid out for me with a sweep of her hand. There on the dressing table was a fine dark grey doublet and hose, accented with black lacing and ebony buttons. Soft cloth shoes completed the outfit.
Oh hell no. I thought to myself.
Penny was something of a mind reader it seems, or my face gave away my thoughts. She tried another tactic, “Please Master Eldridge! You simply must be properly dressed, or else I’ll get in ever so much trouble.” She looked at me with large brown eyes that seemed about to brim over with tears. Had she always had such large eyes?
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled.
“Please Master Eldridge; I would be so grateful if you would just deign to wear these garments,” she begged.
I was thoroughly confused, the Penny I knew never acted like this. In fact I remembered her being more of a tomboy. Glancing down, I could see she had developed in more ways than one. I blushed a bit then. “Fine dammit, just get out and let me get dressed.” I was angrier at my own reaction than I was at her.
Her face lit up happily, in that annoying way women have when they get what they want. “I’ll just wait in the hall.”
“Damn right you will,” I muttered to myself. I stripped off my common garb and began struggling with the unfamiliar clothes. The hose and shoes I managed without a problem. The white under tunic was simple enough, but when I got to the doublet, things got complicated. It had entirely too many buttons and laces, and soon I was hopelessly lost.
“Penny,” I called, “are you still there? I think I need some help.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she teased as she peeked into the room. “I knew you’d be calling for help before too long. Here now, stand up straight! Face the mirror… no not there; I need light from the window to see properly.” She took charge and began sorting out the mess I’d made of the doublet. Standing behind, me she reached around me to draw up the laces holding the front together, looking over my shoulder to see her hands in the mirror.
I could feel her hair tickling my neck as she worked to tighten up the laces, something which caused me to develop all sorts of unwelcome thoughts. She didn’t seem to notice, thankfully. “When did you get so tall Mordecai?” she said, her breath warm beside my ear. I was pretty sure the softness behind me was a product of the development I’d noticed in her before. My cheeks flushed. “What were you thinking?” she continued without waiting for me to answer, “You have to tuck your shirt before you tie up the hose.” She slipped her hands in around my waist and deftly began tucking the shirt in. I yelped in an entirely manly manner and jumped away.
“I can do that!” I said, and then continued by putting my foot in my mouth. “I hope you don’t dress all the guests like that.”
“Of course not, you dolt! That’s what valets are for!” She looked angry and perhaps a little embarrassed, although I wasn’t sure.
“Well then why are you here?” My clever wit was in fine form this evening.
“Marcus thought you might like to see a friendly face rather than deal with a stranger! Honestly Mort, what do you think I am? Some sort of doxy?” she said, rebuking me. Some men claim angry women are attractive, but I’ve never been one of them. Penny was scowling at me as I tried to figure out how she had gotten from what I had said, to the idea that she was some sort of prostitute.
“Wait Penny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was startled, and I feel out of place here. I spoke out of turn.” At last my legendary charms were returning to save me. She glared at me for a second longer, and then her features softened a bit.
“I guess I can understand that, this place can be intimidating.” She relaxed, and then when I wasn’t expecting it she punched me on the shoulder. “There, we’re even now.” For a moment things felt like they did when we were kids, back when things were simpler. “What startled you, though?” she asked.
Sometimes you can be too comfortable expressing yourself around your friends, “Well last time I saw you, you were just this big gap-toothed tomboy and now you’re… well… you…” Yep, I had done it again. Did I mention I’m a genius?
“Tomboy?” she said, as her mind sorted through my reply, trying to figure out if I had insulted her again. “I guess I was, but what does that have to do with anything? I’m still the same for the most part. We’re both taller after all. Are you trying to say I look funny?”
“No, no… you look great! I mean really, really great, beautiful in fact, so much so that I feel a bit awkward.” I turned red as my inner voice replayed what I had just said, back to me. By now she understood what I was getting at, and I swear for an instant I saw her smile, before she blushed and turned her back on me. I’m sure I imagined it.
“Apology accepted,” she replied, “and thank you for the compliment.” She walked to the door before looking back, “You’d best hurry, or you’ll be late for dinner, Master Eldridge.” I snatched up a pillow and threw it at her, but she shut the door before it got there. I’ll never understand women, but I guess having one for a friend isn’t so bad.
I gave myself a last look over in the mirror. The change was astonishing. A tall dark haired man stared back at me, blue eyes standing out in stark contrast. I was still a bit lanky, but the doublet did a lot to address that, and I had to admit the grey looked good on me. There was a knock at the door, and I found a small boy outside the room.
“An’ it please you sir, it’s time for dinner. Master Marcus said you’d be wanting to know.” He was a scruffy young boy somewhere between eight and ten years old. One of his front teeth was missing, giving him an off-kilter grin.
“What’s your name boy?” I said, sounding so much like an adult I almost believed it myself.
His answer came with a faint lisp, “Timothy, sir.”
“Lead the way Timothy,” I replied, and gave him a deep bow. Sensing my mood, Timothy put on airs himself, and we strode down the corridors and hallways like great lords. At least until we encountered the Duchess along the way. We dropped our act then, and I gave Timothy a wink as he left. I walked with Her Grace from that point, in a much more somber mood.
I felt awkward walking beside Genevieve, though I had met Marcus’ mother many times. I would have seated myself at the servants table, where I obviously belonged, but Marc caught me as I entered and steered me to the high table. It felt like everyone in the room was staring at me as I sat down. The duke occupied the head of the table, with his lady wife sitting at the first seat on his right. Across from her, Lord and Lady Thornbear were placed, and I wound up seated next to her, with Marcus to my left. The duke’s other children, Ariadne and Roland sat across from me and Father Tonnsdale, the castle chaplain sat at the foot of the table. This being the first time I had ever sat at the high table, I felt distinctly conspicuous.
The dinner conversation was quiet and revolved entirely around the arrival of their guests the next day. Thankfully no one expected me to give an opinion for I was quite out of my depth. I did keep my ears open and learned a bit however. It seemed the events of the coming week were primarily being staged in order to familiarize Marcus, and to a lesser degree his siblings with other notables around their age. Given that the estates of the landed nobility were separated by great distances, each nobleman would host events such as this to allow the young to socialize with their peers. Hopefully this would help them form important friendships that
would serve them in the politics of later life, not to mention the possibility of finding a marriage partner. None of this was stated directly of course, but I’m a quick learner, and I managed to pick up on the undercurrents.
Things were going well, the soup course was done, and I was mostly finished with the second course, a lovely fish and parsnips dish, when Father Tonnsdale leaned forward. He was pontificating on the lack of merit to be found in some of the heathen religions many noble houses still held to, when his silver star slipped out of his robes and came into view. Unlike the last time I had seen it, now it was glowing with a soft gold radiance. Surprised, I choked and then coughed, getting some of the parsnips into my nose. They were seasoned with a bit of horseradish, so the resulting burn made my eyes water, and I fought to keep from spitting out my food.
Marc thumped me on the back while I regained my composure. Father Tonnsdale addressed me, “Are you all right Master Eldridge?”
“Yes Father, I’m sorry. Your necklace caught me off guard. I never noticed it glowing like that before.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had said too much.
“How unusual! I have heard that certain individuals can see the light granted by our Lady, but it is a rare gift. Do you by chance have the sight, Master Eldridge?” He was staring at me intently.
Ariadne, Marc’s younger sister, spoke then, “Don’t be silly Father, we’ve known Mort for years, and he’s never shown any sign of having the sight.” The duchess glared at her daughter for using my nickname at the table.
Marc interrupted, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about it Father Tonnsdale. This past week Mordecai has begun seeing things, like the castle wards.” Nice, he’d managed to tell everyone at the high table. At least he hadn’t mentioned the incident with the horse, but then I rather doubted he’d want his father knowing he had nearly lost his prize brood mare.
“How old are you Mordecai?” the priest asked me.
“Sixteen, sir. I turn seventeen later this month,” I answered.
“Peculiar, in most cases the sight manifests itself around age twelve or thirteen at the latest, during the tempestuous period around puberty. It’s fairly rare in itself, but of the few dozen cases I’ve heard of, none were later than that.”
“I’m sure it’s just a temporary phase, Father.” I was beginning to wish I could make myself invisible.
“I doubt that. You might consider a career in the Church. A gift such as yours is highly prized, and its use in the service of our Lady is helpful to avoid accusations of witchcraft and sorcery later on.”
The duchess rescued me then, “Let the lad enjoy his dinner, Father. You’re frightening him with talk of witchcraft. It is hardly a fit topic for the dinner table.” Lord Thornbear grunted in agreement with her, and the dinner conversation gradually turned away from me and onto more comfortable matters.
Things went smoothly after that. Dessert was a berry tart with sweet cream, a treat I hadn’t expected, but of which I heartily approved. When they began to serve the after dinner drinks, Marc signaled me quietly that it was time to leave, so we made our excuses and rose from the table.
“Mordecai,” the Duke stopped me, “please call on me in the morning. I’d like to discuss some things with you before the guests arrive tomorrow.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” I bowed and kept my features neutral. I managed to get the rest of the way from the great hall without having a heart attack.
“Don’t fret about it Mort, he just wants to make sure everything is clear concerning your identity this week,” my friend reassured me.
“Speak for yourself,” I replied, “he’s not my father, to me he’s the grand and powerful Duke of Lancaster.
CHAPTER THREE
Of particular importance to those who work with aythar, is a full understanding of its interactions with human beings. Accordingly, several characteristics have been described and named in order to understand this interaction. The first and most important characteristic is ‘capacitance’, which refers to the amount of aythar present or stored within a given person. The amount is not fixed and varies from moment to moment but never exceeds a certain limit. That limit varies greatly from person to person, but in most humans is quite small. Let me add here, that all ‘living’ beings contain some amount of aythar, or else they would be dead, and even corpses contain some amount, although much less by many orders of magnitude.
~Marcus the Heretic,
On the Nature of Faith and Magic
I HAD BEEN TO THE library before, when Marc first undertook to improve my education. My parents had taught me to read at a young age, but the finer arts of geometry and grammar were beyond them. I think he dragged me along at first to provide a distraction from the work his tutor had set for him, but over time it became clear I had a real knack for language and mathematics. Later the Duchess encouraged Marc to invite me, since his progress greatly improved when I was involved. As a result, I was probably the best educated peasant ever to emerge from Lancaster.
Still, the Duke’s library was one of the best in the kingdom, and neither of us really knew the extent and breadth of the volumes it contained. Being young, we just started searching titles hoping to find something relevant. Marc started thumbing through histories hoping to find some mention of past wizards, while I wound up getting bogged down in an herbal compendium. I always had a weakness for plants. Eventually I broke away from that and began searching again. Then Marc called me back.
“Hey Mort, I found something!” It turned out to be a history of the university at Albamarl, which is the capital of Lothion. “According to this, the university used to have a college of magic,” he said.
“Is it still there?” I asked.
“No, apparently there was a plague, and rumors got around that the wizards had something to do with it. The college was destroyed by an angry mob. Looks like most of the faculty were burned at the stake.”
“Why do I want to be a wizard again?”
“Because it’s terribly impressive! And otherwise how will I ever find a magical counselor when I become duke?” He gave me one of his famously charming grins.
“Your father doesn’t have a ‘magical counselor’” I replied.
“Only because there are none to be found anymore, my grandfather had one though. Oh, look here! You aren’t a wizard after all!” That got my attention. “According to this you’re a mage,” explained Marc.
“What’s the difference?”
“Anyone with a moderate amount of latent ability is a mage, a wizard is a mage who’s been educated and has learned to harness his powers properly.”
I laughed, “So I’m ignorant! We knew that already.” We skimmed through the rest of the book but as to the fate of the wizards who survived the burning of the college, there was nothing to be found.
“Let’s keep looking, I know Vestrius kept some books here somewhere,” Marc said.
“Vestrius?” I asked.
“Grandfather’s pet wizard,” Marc answered.
I was making a slow tour of the shelves, when I noticed something odd. Back near the corner, beside one of the wooden bookcases, was a faintly glowing symbol. “Hey come check this out,” I called. Then I reached forward to touch it. A moment later I found myself sitting at a reading table back in the front room of the library. Marc was looking at me oddly.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said.
“Why?”
Exasperated he went on, “A moment ago you called me over to that side room where the grammars are kept, and then you just walked out and sat down over here with nary a word of explanation, that’s why!”
“I did?” Confusion had become my regular companion these past few days.
“The legends of absentminded wizards are seeming truer every day,” he replied. “Come on, let’s see what you forgot, professor dimwit.” We got up and went back into the small side chamber that he said I had called to him from.
Looking around for a fe
w minutes, I spotted the glowing rune again, “Hello what’s this?” I reached out to touch it again. A moment later I found myself sitting at the reading table again. Marc was sitting across from me with a bemused expression.
“I’ll start by saying you are never going to cut it as a mage or whatever if you keep touching strange wards,” he said.
“Weren’t we just in here a bit ago?”
“There’s the great mind I’ve come to respect. Welcome back Mordecai, master of the obvious!” Sarcasm was not one of his more becoming qualities. Now that I think on it, it’s probably not one of mine either. He quickly explained what had happened, so we went back to take another look.
This time I didn’t touch the rune, “Can you see it?” I asked him.
“No.”
“Try touching it and see what happens,” I suggested.
“Not a chance, what if I forgot something important!”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe the first time I lay with a woman!” Marc answered.
“What the heck? When did that happen? You’re not a virgin anymore?” I was stunned.
“And you are?” he replied, arching his eyebrows.
“Shut up, let’s get back to business.” I stared at the rune while he chuckled behind me. Finally I tried something different. Holding my hand out, I brought it near the rune but didn’t touch it. As it came near to the glow, I could feel a pressure growing in my mind. Forget. A faint whispering came to me, but I held firm. Taking a deep breath, I tried to exert a pressure similar to the one I felt, only directed outward, back at the rune. For several long moments I could feel a tension building, not only in my mind but in the air around me, then the world exploded.