by P. S. Power
“Sorry about that, King Mathias. You know how it is, I had to go and play, then hide from work for a bit... It can be most taxing, doing things like that. Then, of course, wave my hands about and mutter ineffectually, as if I have real magic instead of just being a novice.” He waited then, since his words, normally, were casual enough that he would be scolded for talking to the King that way. Any King, he didn’t doubt.
This time, there was simply a chuckle from the head of the table, echoed by Prince Robarts.
It was the large heir, who tapped the table, absently, several times.
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing at all. We get you a whole week off and the closest you come to having fun is sleeping. I see you have new mail? A nice gambeson under it as well... Really, that’s nicer than any I’ve seen, in a long while. Who did the work on it?”
Down the table, speaking in a pleasant voice, General Nesmith joined in, even if the question wasn’t for him. Probably trying to steer both Anders and the Prince to a topic line that was in the secret plans.
“Master Brolly made it, using magic. That waving of hands he mentioned, no doubt. Sir Humphrey, myself and the master armorer are to meet after the mid-meal, behind the stables in the knights’ practice yard, to test it, and make sure of its quality. I have to say, the look is good. If it’s of standard or better quality, we might need to place Master Brolly to doing that full time. You made, what was it? Three soft armor and three solid linked mail long shirts in less than a week? In your spare time, as well. How many can you do if that’s your primary task, do you think?”
Anders blinked and then answered honestly.
“If I did nothing else and only did what I know how to do so far? About three sets per day. What I have already. It might not be that fast, since I’d need to measure everyone that was getting one, so... Call it two gambeson and two mail shirts? Provided I have the needed supplies, of course. That’s everything though.” Which was, as far as he knew, true enough. Without wooden staves, he couldn’t make any arrows at all. Without flour, there would be no bread.
It was a failure of such things, but if there was a way around it, no one had mentioned it to him at all. It was possible, using illusion, to make things appear to be there, when they weren’t. No one, even in the old histories, had ever mentioned it being at all possible to make something out of nothing. To transmute things from one form or shape to another, but not to simply create from the void, using nothing but magic.
Prince Alpert whistled then. A single long note that showed he was impressed, or at least was pretending to be. It wasn’t the kind of thing that Anders had ever heard of him doing, before that moment.
“In less than two months you could armor a hundred bowman in gear that the levies couldn’t afford. If you can make them bows and arrows in that time as well, you could raise your own force. Then, if you need an occupation, making any of those things in time of war or out of it would hold you in good stead. That, your healing work and other studies should be keeping you busy, for the time being, I’d have to say. You’re on the road, at week’s end?”
That was a known thing. Interestingly enough, the Prince had skipped the passing of messages using magic, totally. Everyone had spoken of armor, and there was a mention of healing, but not that. Which meant they were hiding it, even if the rumors he had something to do with that kind of thing were already out.
“Yes, Prince Alpert. Prince Robarts suggested that I occupy myself for a bit, in a way that will toughen my resolve, and prove my mettle. I would point out that I didn’t take that payment from your lady wife, or ask for it. It was mere courtly manners, Prince Robarts. On her part. I probably botched the whole thing, being too rude about it and turning her away without more niceties. Sorry.”
The man laughed then, his wife blushing prettily enough.
“So I heard. Don’t worry, I actually understand the situation there. On all fronts. What price has the life of a Princess? My child? That was some incredible work you did on Mathia. On everyone. Still, we’re at war and the Princes of Istlan ride out when war comes. While you can’t lay full claim to such a title, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the same responsibility, even if young.” There was a sigh then, which Anders didn’t see at all, his attention behind him as it was. The figure there didn’t move at all.
She was, very nearly, hidden even from the tricks of the wizard. At least to the point that he could use them. Master Toland would be more apt that way, of course. The other man was in a trance, but doing it with his eyes open. All of his attention was in the correct direction, of course. On the hidden spy.
The Heir went on then.
“Besides, I don’t want you to have to confront Baron Brolly, as of yet. After what he did, you’d probably have to kill him on sight. He’s a fool coming here, given that.” The man meant that part, it seemed. Both that he didn’t want Anders to have to do anything and when it came to a fight, he expected the other man, and his forces, to lose.
His mother had armed him there, suggesting that her father wouldn’t fight fair, if it came to it. Possibly, maybe even probably, acting before Anders would understand anything was going on at all.
Anders nodded, so that it would look right from the back and tried to make his voice strong, even if that wasn’t the way of a good trance. Normally people in them spoke in reedy or soft voices, and seemed a bit passive.
Farad Ibn Istel had been a keeper of time’s story, however. That meant learning to keep great works in his mind, but also to repeat them, perfectly, or nearly so, on command. So, he sounded a bit like he was reading a speech, but his words were strong and clear.
“I don’t recall that story and for some reason no one has ever informed me much about it. A bit, the other day, but that’s all. There is, perhaps, much about my own life, that I do not understand.” He winced then, in a deep and peaceful mental state or not.
After all, he sounded far too much like a crusty and slightly officious old historian at the moment.
King Mathias waved his right hand, signaling for food to be brought. A woman had come to the door, a cart with plates of food. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her presence. She seemed to be baffled to find little Anders sleeping at the table, or at least nodding off, but nothing else about her was amiss.
To that end, trying to hold the state he was in, he smiled, sat up and opened his eyes. Keeping all of his attention, or most of it, behind him. Watching the person who wasn’t there, closely. It took more effort doing it that way, of course.
Given everything, a wince and him sitting up and snapping his eyes open, it looked a bit like he’d jumped.
“Forgive me! I nearly fell asleep at the table. How rude of me.”
Queen Maura smiled at him, indulgently.
“The young need much sleep. We understand that you must be tired, working as you have been. Ah, the meal is here.” She didn’t reach over to pat him on the arm, but it was her natural instinct. Not in a way that would be inappropriate, either.
It was, simply, that he was the child of her son. What held her back was simply the protocols of the meal though, nothing more. That was placed in front of each of them by nicely dressed men, wearing fine gloves in white and black velvet outfits. Things that had bits of wear on them in places, while still seeming sharp. At least for servants.
When the serving man put the plate in front of him, there was a nudge from the man’s elbow. If they were calling a thing that nearly took him from his seat, making a sickening thud as it hit the side of his head a nudge, of course. Agorn wasn’t a person that he’d ever been friends with, not crossing paths with him much, but he was known to the man. The truth was that he didn’t truly care for the man, since he was the kind to go out of his way to be cross sounding or short, even if it wasn’t warranted.
Anders put his attention on the fellow, in case he saw or knew something that Anders was missing and had been trying to warn or alert him. It wasn’t that, though. The man merely tho
ught that the bastard of the Prince should be more polite to the others there, so had sought, lightly, to punish him for, essentially, being himself. He would have liked to plunge knife into Anders heart, but didn’t think he could get away with it.
The boy within surged with anger that was so sudden and so hot, that Farad had to struggle, hard, to keep the man from being murdered right then and there. His right hand, in a fist, moved across his body, the correct mental work being done to make the man explode, as soon as the hand opened. Everything was being placed into it, as well.
Which was too much for the room they were in, even if he wanted to murder the man. Farad didn’t, not caring much what the other man thought about him. Even as the side of his own head ached from the blow. Truly, he needed to be a bit more polite and to the customs of the place, or it would be noted by the strange invisible spy that he was acting strangely.
So, barely, the old man pulled their hand back and pasted a smile on his face, the hot anger surging through him, influencing even his own thoughts on the matter. It was a struggle, but he pushed them back into a trance state, then rather carefully, didn’t think about Agorn at all.
That was difficult, with the man still being in the room like he was.
No one spoke much, until they had their plates, along with cups of tea to go with it. It was a dish that Anders had never seen before, which seemed to be bread of some sort, with a bright orange colored sauce on it, He ate carefully, using the best manners he could manage, while still observing the woman behind him. As he held his attention there, a strange thing happened.
She started to become clear to him. Not perfectly so, but enough that, even if she wasn’t visible to him, he knew that she was in a light blue dress, with gray at the top. She had a small knife, hidden in her skirt as well. It wasn’t being pulled or even thought about, it was simply there. Ready to be used, if needed. Then, slowly, a slight blur walked to the main door of the chamber, opened it, which went unnoticed by everyone except Master Tolan and himself, and left the room.
The old wizard looked at the door, then over at Anders, who’d finally let himself do the same thing, after it clicked. He could feel her moving away, into the castle at good speed. No doubt due to the fact that whatever had held her in a state of not being seen, it was failing her.
After half a moment, the man went slightly wide eyed.
“That was impressive. Did you get all of it, Anders? Master Brolly, I mean.” Tolan was still in a trance, so no one would hold that minor of a slip as being confrontational. Even if he was personally feeling ready to hunt down Agorn and end his days.
A thing that he couldn’t do. Rather, he might. He could, possibly, even get away with it. The fact was that the man had seen a boy, one that he probably didn’t hold in high esteem in the first place, acting comfortable with the King and his family, and had reacted as he might have to one of the servants who did the same thing.
With minor violence that wasn’t well meant, but that he could get away with. It wasn’t wholesome and good, but many in the world simply weren’t. Day to day they did their jobs and it was considered enough.
Slowly, still steaming inside, Anders the boy worked to school his mind, joining Farad in holding the trance. Trying to control himself. Like a true man of discipline and learning might have done.
Still, he shook his head a bit, his slightly too long blond hair moving from the motion. He needed to cut that, before going off to the front. Battle and war wasn’t the place for vanity. Plus, he truly and honestly didn’t want any of the lonely men there to get confused and think that he was a girl or woman. It was the kind of thing people made light of, but that kind of thing could and did, happen, in times of war. He didn’t think he looked that way, but it was hard to know what would pass with men that hadn’t had any company for some months in that way.
It was just another thing, in a list that didn’t seem to ever end that he needed to see to.
“I understood that someone was there, hidden by magic. Mistress Colm, the new herb woman, I think. Near the end, when her magic started to fade, I was aware of more. There was no sense of planned attack, though she was armed. Lightly, but I imagine that even a small knife when you can’t be seen would be a powerful tool.”
King Mathias looked at Master Tolan, sharply.
“Is that true? We have a name now?”
The weathered, but well shaved wizard nodded.
“I’m in concurrence. It is possible that magic was used to fool us both, so that needs be kept in mind, but the feeling truly was of that particular woman. I couldn’t tell why she was listening, however. There was a feeling that her magic wouldn’t last long. A potion, from what she was thinking about as it faded. It fits her skills.”
The King took a breath, to call out, then held it for a moment.
“We need to find out more, then. Covertly. Peri, she’s working openly with Mathia, isn’t she? Can we use that?”
Anders stopped for a moment, then nodded.
“Have Princess Mathia strike up a friendship with her, then, possibly receive some tutoring in herb lore and potions? Even if she only learns what can be done with it, not how, that’s valuable.” He didn’t know if the girl was able to pull that kind of things off, of course.
He also wasn’t truly certain he could have managed it.
“Also, she’s attractive in a quiet fashion. We could set someone to pay court to her, if she’s unmarried? I don’t know if that’s the case. Then, I don’t know if we need to worry about a husband, even if there is one. That would be believable enough, to be honest. Women have men paying that sort of attention to them and one who was ardent and attractive might catch her attention.”
The Queen looked at him strangely for a moment as if he was suggesting he do that portion. Then she shook her head, a strange sense coming over her. After a moment, she blinked.
“We could put Nico up to it? He needs to see toward getting a wife at any rate and if we’re incorrect on the subject, Mistress Colm would make a fine wife.” She fluttered her hands, then glanced at Anders. “Would you set that up for us, Anders? Carefully. Master Belford is a powerful man in certain ways, but the loss of his mother must be weighing on him. It can’t be discussed here, any further.” Then, carefully, she started to eat again. He did the same.
The conversation didn’t have much to do with him after that, but he didn’t leave a trance state and kept striving to find what he could about Mistress Colm. The lady had, after leaving them, gone back to her workshop and was seeing to her daily tasks, for the moment. Hanging herbs to dry.
That, learning about herbs and such, was another thing that he probably needed to know about. Especially the healing kind. Actually, seeing some examples would help, too. Books were wonderous, but with plant identification you always had to guess at some point and hope you were getting the right type. If you could commit the plant to memory, then you wouldn’t easily mistake it for another.
Which gave him a bit of a plan, if not one that he really had time for.
Then he realized something. In his entire life, he’d never heard anyone call Master Belford anything other than that. That the man had something as normal as a first name, while obvious, seemed strange to him. Nico was a fine enough name, of course. Probably short for something else. The only strange thing was that it had never occurred to Anders to question the lack, before. It was one of those things that had been hidden from him, there.
Probably because no one had thought it proper for a boy to go around calling adults by anything as familiar as their first name. At least without a title being involved at the same time.
When they were released from the meal, at about an hour past when they’d gotten there, Master Tolan led him out. Sighing, Anders spoke, trying not to sound put upon by the extra work. The feeling was there, but he buried it, as quickly as he could.
“We should see if Master Belford wants to walk to the town with us.”
Rather than seem put out b
y the idea, the other man stood straighter then.
“What a good idea, Master Brolly. Yes, we should inquire with him over the idea. A nice walk will do wonders for us all, I can’t doubt.”
Chapter six
It was interesting, but as far as Anders could tell, Master Belford honestly assumed that he and Master Tolan had invited him to town merely to get him out of the castle, for some exercise. It was probably a good idea, since the fellow was clearly down. Angry and sad, as they moved toward the castle town.
That was called Kingston, and, when Farad saw it with his own eyes, he realized that it was rather a decently sized city, not what he would have counted as a village at all. That he’d ever considered anything else, given the vast size of the castle and the community directly around it, probably showed how sheltered his entire life had been. The walk to the town wasn’t a vast thing, being about a quarter mile, maybe a half, away from the outer wall of the big compound up the hill.
The forest between the two places was well known to Anders, having been a place where he played, and at times, hid, earlier in his life. No more than a few months before, in fact. The boy had seldom gone into Kingston, as a rule. That hadn’t been forbidden to him, but there wasn’t that much to do there, other than stand around and watch people. While the idea sounded interesting to Farad, since their ways would be very different than what he knew of, the boy tended not to see the value in such things.
After all, if he wanted to watch a blacksmith, the castle had four of them, each working on different types of production. They also had several dedicated coopers, and even wagon makers. Anything available in the town could be had closer to home. Generally done in a superior fashion.
Still, the day, while overcast, was pleasantly cool and if the city in front of them had a certain odor, the wind was strong enough to push most of the scents away from his nose. He wasn’t some delicate flower to blanch at every unpleasant thing he encountered, but the place was truly ripe, compared to the castle. Even that wasn’t perfect, but very few places were going to be. Farad understood that concept on a deep level, having lived in more than one place now.