by P. S. Power
Instead the woman waved the idea away.
“I know. That started last spring. Just before you fell ill. I rather gained the favor of a man at court that she was trying to groom for her spying games. That made her job harder and she hasn’t forgiven me for it yet. Not even after he went back to his own keep like he did, after our dalliance. It’s not a major issue. The truth is, even making me look a bit unattractive, her work with a brush is still rather finer than the next person I can get for the task by far. So I suffer, for now, until she forgets and decides to like me again.” She waved at her bed then, to show her condition. “I have to imagine that this will be enough to gain her favor again. She isn’t a mean woman, after all.”
Anders thought for a moment then, holding his trance state. He could tell she meant her words well enough. Standing there, he looked at Martya, and went over her feelings on the matter of the Countess. Then, after a few moments, he blinked.
“Sorry, I’m in a light trance and tried to read Lady Martya on the subject. Did I say anything?” He couldn’t recall, to be honest. A thing that left him feeling uneasy. His entire life, one of them, had been spent in dedicated service to memory. The lack of it, even for a moment, was disconcerting.
The woman laughed.
“You did! I asked questions when you froze, recognizing the condition from Master Tolan. Martya is clear. So is Queen Maura and Princess Aisla. Princess Peri, the King, all the princes and your own Mother. Even my own coven is clear, though it’s clear that Lady Harriet was trying to infect me, using that poor serving girl. Still, that means my prime suspects are all gone now. Well, then I guess I need to look at who else might be involved here. Would you be willing to work with me on that, Master Brolly? I can make up a list of those most likely to have done such and have you check them for me. I... Wasn’t aware you were learned in the wizard’s art as well as that of the magician. That’s most amazing. Didn’t you just start learning a few months back?”
He nodded then, simply being honest, if not totally so.
“I did. I have a good memory, which has aided me, in some of this. I might be of some aid to your project, but I’m due to leave in a few days, for the border with Yanse.” He stopped then. “And no, you can’t come, even if you are feeling better. There. I don’t like to give orders like that, but the last two people I’ve spoken on the topic have insisted on going along. Sorry about that. Sir Daniel was nearly dead last night and is already complaining that his weakened condition is shameful. Before you spread rumors, he’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever even heard of. He’s going to the front with the caravan, to guard it for the kingdom, not days from the state he was in. It’s... Impressive.” That was damning it with faint praise, but the Lady simply nodded at him.
“One doesn’t become a knight if they are of weak character. You’ll help me, though? Even if it’s simply to clear everyone, it would be a boon. I can pay for the service. Some small token, for your time, perhaps? Or... Other things, when I’m well?”
He snorted at her then, sounding like a thousand-year-old man might.
“The King himself just told me to ignore such offers for now, not three hours ago. I have to decline, given that, even if you are attractive. At least under the rash. That will go away, in about a week. Then you’ll be back to your normal, lovely, self.”
He bowed then, and backed out of the chamber, which wasn’t hard, being he was almost standing in the doorway to begin with, since there was no lady present to guard the Countess from him. The guard in the hallway was down a way, so as to not easily overhear what was going on, or see in, in case his examination required the woman to doff her shift. He hadn’t needed to request such things of course. He probably wouldn’t, unless he was asked to treat wounds, after a battle.
It would be less than entertaining, no doubt. Except that a woman with a bloody wound didn’t sound that interesting either, even without clothing. In that, both Farad and Anders found agreement. The boy portion wasn’t that enthused with the flirting that had taken place with the old woman. Farad simply couldn’t see her as all that aged.
It was a matter of perspective, of course. The child saw a single wrinkle and thought the grave must be near. The ancient historian saw a few character marks and thought of his own life as a young man of only fifty. There had been few women in it. Some, in the audiences he spoke to, recounting the tales of old, several nights per week. They had been allowed to attend, but it was frowned upon. Women were valued, but the historians had been a rather monastic society, which meant that bringing in distraction or temptation was kept to a minimum.
It had probably skewed his idea of their place in the world, to be truthful.
Having some time before the meal, and not gasping constantly now, he considered going back to his room, in order to find a useful project to work on. Instead, he headed toward the ambassador’s hallway and headed toward the rooms of Depak Sona.
He knocked gently, in case the fellow didn’t want to be disturbed. His voice called out, almost instantly.
“Enter, if you please!”
He did please, so did as requested. He bowed, going low, using first courtly.
“I should have come to visit earlier. I was too busy hiding from you, so it got in the way.” He was trying to be charming, and did get a smile in return.
“Oh? Did you do something wrong? I can’t think of any other reason to hide from me.”
Anders nodded.
“I over-extended. Even after your warnings to be careful that way. Trying to help all of the sick people here. I set all the spells for a week each, and well, there were nearly fifty of them, by the time I was finished.”
The man snorted then.
“You seem fine. You worked out how to end a spell, then?”
“I did. I only released those who were at the end of the illness, since it shouldn’t come back. I’ll need to check in on them all but they didn't instantly collapse or return to collective fiery brows.” Not that he waited all that long, with most of them.
There were raised eyebrows then. Followed by a look that seemed a bit strange.
“How many spells are you holding presently, if I may ask?”
He had to count them up, but knew after a moment.
“Twenty-two. They aren’t highly powerful or anything, thank goodness. I would have died, if that had happened. Or, well, passed out again.” He touched his right cheek, to show what he meant. “No one even bothered to beat me for my foolishness. I did it to myself.”
Depak Sona waved for him to take a chair at the table. He had letters in front of him, but didn’t bother to cover or hide them. Then, Anders wasn’t going to read them, so it was probably fair.
“Lesson learned, then? At a low price, if all you had was an uncomfortable few hours and a minor bruise. It took me far longer to come to peace with the idea that there were things I simply couldn’t do.”
Snorting a bit, Anders looked away.
“I doubt I’ve truly learned it. I need to, clearly. I have the start of the lesson, if nothing else. Taught to the side of my face, as a reminder not to be so lazy in the future. Hopefully, that will be enough. As it stands, I need to work out how to make some mail armor still. I have this, at least.” He patted the gambeson, which got a smile from the magician across from him.
“Very good. Well done, in fact. I can’t tell that it wasn’t made by a master crafts person. Working in metal is harder than doing anything else, except stone, as far as manipulating it. Both are worth learning to do, however. Go slowly and work in small parts. A mile is walked one step at a time, so too, can you learn to shape hard things.” There was a tone of great wisdom to the words, as well as practical information that he was going to need. At least if he didn’t want to pass out again.
Looking up at the man, who was at least a foot taller than he was, while standing, Anders tried to think of why he was there.
“Oh, would you like to have the late meal with myself and others? In the
low hall. We’re going to be going over the coming trip to the front. Some things have changed.” He nearly didn't mention what, but decided that it was information that couldn’t be easily hidden at the castle anyway. “Both Prince Robarts and Prince Erold are slated to go on the journey with us. I gather it’s needed, so they look strong and brave, later. A tradition here, sending the princes to war. There is no doubt that they are good, strong and brave, but I’d rather it not be known that they are traveling with us. I was thinking we could change their hair color and...” He shrugged then. “We can’t do too much, since that might offend their persons. Different clothing, perhaps? Colors that aren’t those of the King and his family? It won’t be all the time, of course. It’s one thing to suggest going under some form of disguise, so that those in the caravan won’t work too hard serving them instead of seeing to their real duties. Another to have them actually hide from the enemy.” Even if that last part was Ander’s true goal. He didn’t say the words, not knowing if Depak would be able to understand was he was actually saying.
The old man, who from all reports was well over a hundred years, for all he looked to be a fit and hearty fifty or less, nodded. Again, there was a wise quality to it.
“I understand your desire here. The truth is though, that being too careful with princes leads to poor kings, later. You must not hold their hands or guard them so closely that they lack an understanding of the real dangers and hardships of war. More, you have a duty to them, to ensure no one else does that either. It sounds like King Mathias is doing his duty to them in this way, already. The same for yourself, in fact.” There was a grim look then. A hard thing that seemed almost as if he were fearful, which wasn’t the way of the man, in the main.
Then he locked gazes with Anders for a long moment.
“I know that he does not wish to place you in such danger. We have spoken on the topic several times, with him taking the side of keeping you here, in comfort and safety. That luxury cannot be allowed, to one such as you, Master Brolly. It is not fair, or even good, perhaps, but we are facing a war that might be the greatest the world has ever seen. As one who would guide you, I must place you in situations where you are not cloistered from the facts and hardships of the world. Even if you should not be expected to face battle for many years, in a proper fashion. Another boy your age would merely train, but you are already powerful in many ways. Leaving you without the needed lessons would be a failure, on both my part and that of your King.”
Anders nodded, seeing the point of it, even while not loving the idea. Interestingly, the boy within was the one that wanted to protect the others, at least as much as the old man could see the need for it. It was the younger portion that was emotional about the idea. Even as he also understood the point that Master Depak was making. A man would grow weak, if he did not constantly challenge himself to greater things. That was known.
He smiled then, which had to look grim.
“Still, I intend to keep myself and them as safe as I may. I’ll simply have to do it while seeming like I’m not. That will be simple and pleasant, I’m certain. Well, I can have them both start by eating my cooking. I doubt that the caravan will have dedicated people for that. I’ll need to get food in, as well as bring my gear for it and make sure my spices and herbs are still good. They should be. Things like that keep. Anyway, I’m off to the late meal in a bit, if you’d like to join us? It’s also fine if you want me to stand on my own in this.”
The older man narrowed his eyes at Anders then. His face serious.
“I’d be pleased to attend. I’ll meet you there in... Call it half a glass?” The man looked off to the side, even though there was no sand glass there at all. It wasn’t a common way to refer to time in Istlan. They had time pieces that were wound and had gears inside. Anders and Farad had seen such things, but didn’t own one either. They were very precious, he didn’t doubt.
Still, he meant half an hour, which worked well enough. Getting to his feet, feeling the ease of normal breathing again, he bowed.
“Thank you, Ambassador Depak. I look forward to your presence there.” He bowed himself out of the room, even if it was silly looking. It truly was the custom there, if you were on official business. He normally didn’t bother with it, but it gave the whole thing a feeling of greater reality, somehow.
Then, walking quickly, without truly running, he headed back to his own room, nearly tripping on a lumpy sack that had been placed on the floor, inside his door. It clanked nicely when his foot hit it. The top was tied, but only loosely, so, after closing his door tightly, he could peer in and see a collection of metal bits. Most of them were clearly cast offs from other projects. Bits of steel that were about the size of his right hand and nearly as thick, or smaller.
“Perfect.” He hoped so anyway.
True, it might have turned out to be easier to work from riveted mail that was already close to what he wanted, but this would allow him to start from a point that might well be workable in the field, if he learned the skill well enough. It was tempting to try it right then, since he had nearly half an hour before he had to run off to the meal.
Sighing, he cleaned his clothing instead, combed his slightly unruly hair without seeing it and then changed the color of his trousers and gambeson, to a deep green. The kind of colors that would be needed on the trail. That was mainly to show that he understood such matters and wouldn’t dress himself in bright red and white the whole time.
It was possible that no one would actually notice it being done.
After that, he walked slowly to the low hall, since walking too quickly would have him there before it was time for the meal. He needed to be near the first there, without sitting and waiting for too long, since that might be perceived as impatience. It was already strange for him to plan any sort of meeting and rarely were such things done over a meal. It did happen. He’d seen it before, so that was a known thing in the low hall. There would be listeners of course, but again, he doubted that he’d be able to hide much about two of the princes leaving. There would likely be rumors about it taking place already.
Still, he truly was the first one there, which meant that Senna Grace, his cooking tutor, waved him over to the side table, which was being filled with large trays and a giant black serving caldron. There was a stack of plates and silver at the far end, as well.
“Anders! There you are. I had word that you’re to be given the week off, before you go back to the war? Do they need a boy cook that badly?” She clucked at him a little. Pretending that he wasn’t more than merely that.
He nodded, since it was part of his current plans.
“I need to make food for the knights and some others. Twelve in all, I think, including myself. I’ll have to get some provisions for it and plan out what to have. I sort of figured that the part about what to eat would simply be an order, most of the time, but it looks like I’m the one in command of that for this trip.” He grinned then. “Plus, I have some people to meet, on the other end. I’m taking some gifts around and all that, since the caravan is already going. Gifts from other people, I mean.” He didn't know the generals and their people yet, after all.
There was a swat, to his shoulder. A thing that wasn’t too hard. She glanced at his face, where the bruise was, and looked away. Probably assuming someone had beaten him.
That got him to smile and shake his head, then touch the right area.
“I... You heard about the bit of healing work I’ve been doing?”
She went wide eyed and nodded at him, as several others in the background did the same.
“I have. It’s fitting though... since you’re one of us castle folk.”
He nodded back then.
“Exactly. Still, I pushed a bit too hard and this morning when I was practicing the summoning of water out of the air, I went dark and ended up catching myself by the face on the floor of my room. That’s less than ideal. I was simply doing too much at once. There are limits to the magic a single person can
hold. It’s a bit like running, really. After a while you get tired. Thankfully, about half those who fell ill are much improved now. This is a lot easier, with only ten people needing my attention that way.” It was actually eleven, but that was the kind of point that would seem like bragging, which he wasn’t doing at all.
Senna Grace batted him on the arm again.
“So, cooking for Knights and fine types? We’ll need to arrange something nicer than what soldiers would be getting. You know the basics of what to do for that, of course. You should probably have an assistant, for that many... Normally it wouldn’t be needed, but you’ll make fewer mistakes if you don’t have to carry all the water and tend the fire alone.”
He nodded.
“I have someone in mind for that, actually. I’ll bring it up. Thank you, Senna. I should go to the table soon, I’m expecting some people to join me, as strange as that sounds.”
She waved to the far end of the table, which was nearly settled, meaning that he moved through, taking what he wanted, before anyone else was there. He started to eat as soon as he sat, being half starved, like he was. Then he planned out how to say what he needed.
By the time people started to arrive, he had something of a plan. It wasn’t a great one, but it would be a good enough starting point. If it wasn’t, Anders was certain that given who was there, he’d be hearing all about it.
Chapter five
When Prince Erold got to the low hall, seeming a bit out of place, standing in the doorway, Anders hopped up and moved over to him. There were others at the table already, including several knights that he didn’t even have a name for. They simply hadn’t traveled in the same circles for the most part. No one turned to see who was there, since people would be coming in for nearly two hours.
Waving, he got the Prince to come to him, instead of having to move that far away from the serving tables. Not that a servant or two wouldn’t dash over to try and serve someone that highly ranked, no matter where they sat at the hall. Unless they nipped that idea before it could flower.