Date: 2021-06-09 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: When a cult seeks the lives of his friends, Anders Brolly must stand in front of them. They will rue the day they tried him. If they survive.

Crystals of Memory: Book Five

The Silent Blade

P.S. Power

Orange Cat Publishing

Copyright 2021

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty-one

Chapter twenty-two

Afterword

Chapter one

Anders plunged the blade into Depak Sona’s back, without hesitation. The other man was dressed in simple clothing that day, dull and dark. A deep brown that spoke of being rather serious about the task at hand. Anders was in something similar, though in black. Trousers and a simple tunic. Made loose enough for him to move in. A thing that was truly required, at that moment, even if it was also a style choice.

The rounded paddle in his hand, a piece of thick wood, made smooth with a rasp, jabbed the older man right beside his spine. On the left, near the heart.

“Gah!” The tone didn’t sound pained, as much as shocked, of course. It hadn’t been meant to cripple him, just let him know that the move had taken place.

Depak, his mentor, spun to strike at him, not being able to see where Anders was. Not that he was invisible, at the moment, naturally. That would be much harder to pull off, or so he’d heard. He was, more correctly, simply too boring to bother looking at. Which meant that he was more than a little shocked when the four others there opened up with large waves of light, flooding the practice square and leaving him rather dazzled and blind for the moment.

They weren’t supposed to be part of the exercise, and that made it, technically, cheating. Which wasn’t a thing for him to complain about, really. Fighting wasn’t fair. That didn’t mean he wanted to try and work against five people at once constantly, but recalling that fact, the true nature of battle, while annoying, wasn’t a horrible thing, most days.

Closing his eyes, he dropped to the ground. Holding the wooden practice blade, a thing not much longer than his pale and slender hand, between his teeth. It was needed, or at least useful, since he had to hold to his current spell, which wasn’t that powerful or draining, but did take a certain amount of skill to hold as the others blindly waved light in his supposed direction. More to the point, he needed his hands to crawl, for a few seconds. The beams of light were far too close to where he actually had been, after all.

That the others, Princess Lissa, her older sister Princess Salina, Master Tolan and Prince Erold were supposed to be doing their own training and not going for him was of little to no issue, at the moment. It was, perhaps, cheating on their part, aiding Depak in such a fashion, of course. On the other hand, Anders Brolly had just managed to defeat three opponents in a row, using the one trick.

So it wasn’t truly incorrect for them to try and even the playing field, a little, given that. He was being annoying, after all, winning constantly. No one loved that.

Anders got their game, of course. Each of them, even tiny Lissa, had a stick in their hands. As soon as he dropped his current spell and they could find him, they’d run at him, and a sound thrashing would commence. Probably for real. At least two of them were rather clearly putting enough power into their simple light spells to actually hurt, when they washed over him, at least.

Depak Sona wasn’t visible to him, since Anders was having to save his vision by closing his eyes tightly, but a soft, almost imperceptible sense of contact, of intent, rolled over him. That, he figured, was the other man using his wizard’s skills to find him on the stone floor of the practice zone. At least he was attempting to use that skill. It didn’t work, since the trick Anders was using had been designed to thwart that. If you couldn’t be bothered to notice a person with your eyes, doing it with your mind wasn’t going to work, either.

Then, rather cleverly, Depak stopped doing that and used his new skill, the dampening technique that Anders and Far had been teaching people. Prince Erold taught that one as well, since he’d been part of discovering that it was even possible, so had greater mastery with the trick than almost anyone else, so far. That particular trick was a powerful addition to their skills, since it created an area, if a small one, where magic simply didn’t work. At least if it was done well and the person doing it had enough of that particular skill to make it worth the doing.

A thing that was very close to not working out for Depak, at the moment. He could do the trick, but only out to about his owns arm’s length away from him. In fact, the stronger one was in traditional magics, the weaker that particular effect seemed to be. It could be made more impressive with focus and practice, but there were real limits to it. Anders was able to nearly double that affect in area. The power of the thing was about the same between them, with only that, the area of it, increasing.

He could have done that himself, and stopped the blinding light from hitting him, of course. It was, no doubt, why everyone else cleverly had a stick on them. So that, when he made that mistake, or moved too close to Depak, they could rush in and have their fun while bruising him.

It was a good trap, actually. If he got close enough to his mentor to strike with the blade again, he’d be visible. At least inside that magical dampening field. If he tried to use that himself, then he’d be fully visible and have to fight five people at once. A thing that he honestly wasn’t going to win, even if he still vaguely recalled some of the memories that he’d shared with the original version of himself. Farad Ibn Istel. A man who, over the course of his incredibly long life, had become one of the best fighters to have ever lived.

He still remembered having lived it all, after being in contact with his mind. Vaguely. Except that, much like a dream, the things found there had dried up and faded over the last months. Even having done it twice more with the original version of Farad, to see if any of those skills would transfer in a more permanent fashion. The answer there, it seemed, was that he was going to be left to learn things the old fashioned and harder way.

He nearly froze, for a moment. Then, instead of dropping the unseen field in defeat, he sprinted toward the bald man and just as he reached him, started to stab again. In the back. Five times in a row. Then he dropped back, rolled on the ground and scrambled to close his eyes again, hoping not to be left blind for real, as Prince Erold focused a rather brilliant lance of sunlike radiance in his general direction.

This game went on for about three more passes. Then it was ended, rather firmly, by the arrival of a new player on the field. Princess Sweyn.

She was about five months pregnant and showing mildly that particular state as a modest bump at her middle, as she moved toward her husband on the sideline. Anders had missed the arrival of the fine carriage, if one had been provided at all. The school was only a short walk from the castle, of course, and the woman was pregnant, not crippled.

A thing that some there at the castle had missed, for some reason. The Queen had rather taken to insisting that the poor girl barely move, during the day. A thing that wasn’t healthy, of course. It meant that Princess Sweyn had taken to covert walks about the countryside, when no one was looking, simply to prevent her legs from seizing up on her. She waved to Prince Erold and spoke, her voice mellow in tone.

“I was asked to find Prince Anders, by the King?” She grinned then and shook her head a little. “Which, agreed, is a bit odd. Not that running such an errand is unwelcome at the moment. He’s been aiding me in my efforts to not be locked in a single room all the time, of late. Does anyone know where he’s gotten to?”

There was a pointed finger, a delicate thing that had a healthy, slightly dusky, color to it, no doubt. Aimed in his direction, he had to figure. From the words. His eyes were still firmly closed, after all. That was because Princess Salina and Prince Erold were both trying to cook his flesh from his bones with their light projections, of course.

Princess Lissa spoke, not shocking him at all.

“He’s right there. Somewhere. Say, would you shut down magic for us? Let us...” There was noise then and Anders tried to work out what the plan was using his own wizard skills, and could sense the movement in the area, as well as some muttered whispers. Still, he simply wasn’t able to get far enough away from Sweyn before she turned all the magic off. The effect was impressive, he had to admit.

She’d stepped out onto the stone of the practice area, near the trees on the southern side of the school building. That grand structure, his home now, blocked a portion of the sun, the cool fall day being less comfortable for it. Soon they were going to have to work out how to practice indoors, no doubt. The snows were coming, after all.

As soon as that, the large area of no magic, developed, he was, naturally, visible to all again. Having been planning for it, Prince Erold dashed toward him, a six-foot-long staff in his hands, and swung the beastly branch at his legs with more might than one would consider polite, in a friendly practice session. That impact hurt enough to make him cry out, if with a half laugh at the contact. It wasn’t a real attempt to kill him after all.

Just teach him not to win too often, or so it seemed.

He was about to flee, as Princess Salina and Lissa both moved in to aid him in such learning, when Depak Sona laughed.

“Hold. That was well done. On all parts. Now, King Matheus wishes an audience with Anders?” There was some skepticism to the words. As if sending a Princess to collect a mere Anders was well out of place. Which wasn’t wrong, truly. Even to aid her in leaving the castle, that was a bit off. A thing that he didn’t worry about, since Prince Erold was about to strike him again. The young man didn’t though, the long staff being set on the ground.

Even Lissa stopped.

Princess Salina hit him for a while, before doing the same. She tried to, anyway. Anders danced about, wondering if fleeing was in order. It was the magical practice area, which meant that they didn’t have a handy weapons rack to the side. His short blade, a great thing to tuck into the belt he was wearing, wasn’t up to battle against a five-foot-long piece of lumber. Not if the Princess could see him, which, at the moment, she truly could. Lacking a stick of his own was, given that, clearly a mistake.

Thankfully, the woman wasn’t that strong, physically. He was tapped several times and there was, clearly an intent to leave some bruises, but like Erold, she focused on his legs and he avoided about half of the blows, mainly by moving back quickly. She laughed a bit. Wickedly. She was good at things like that.

“There. That will teach you to be superior to all of us, won’t it? Hmm!” Her brown eyes flashed a bit, as she tried to sneer in his general direction.

The only thing there was that, clearly, she wasn’t just being bratty or entitled. She was, minor pain aside, clearly playing.

So, standing back, the attack having stopped, about a minute after Depak had called for them to hold, he bowed. A martial bow, with his hands in front of him, the right one still holding the small practice knife. In case he was attacked again.

“I stand corrected, of course. Now, Princess Sweyn, what may I do to serve, today?”

It was between mid-meal and the late one, already. His day had been spent in magical practice, so he was a bit hungry at the moment. The early portion had been more intense that way, since he’d taken time to work out how to build channels on the interior of stone. His basic idea had been for pipes, but Princess Lissa had, rather brilliantly, suggested they figure out how to make larger tunnels that way, for people to walk through.

A task which had been rather brutal, to be honest. Not just in energy, either. Twice, working on the project, going slowly, since stone was hard to push around, they’d made the rock they were abusing explode. The bigger the hole they made, the larger that problem seemed to get. So far, he hadn’t worked out a way around that, either. Nothing was coming to mind about it, at least.

Sweyn, looking pleased to have been a part of the events, dropped the magic stopping field. It wasn’t even her natural talent. Her best area was working with Devica, as it turned out. Still, it was a close thing. She also seemed to have a natural talent when it came to stopping the magic of others. Farad, Far as he liked to be called, had been working with all of them on that.

Learning to make friends with the powerful spirits and beings of nature. He worked on other things himself, however, even if he was old and well versed in many types of magic. He wasn’t powerful that way, but had learned a few tricks, in the course of his long life. More than that.

Even outside of asking his friends to give him aid all the time.

The Modroc princess, who was tall, had medium short hair and a cute face, which was slightly round, due to her current pregnancy, grinned at him.

“It is, I believe, time for us to see to travel to the south? To Modroc. Also, for these others to go back to their own home. King Matheus wishes you to go with us, I think?”

That didn’t make a lot of sense, given he had a job to do there. As the headmaster of the university they were standing in, or rather, just outside of. A flash of annoyance crossed his mind then, for an instant. It was, he realized, the Farad portion of himself responding to his schedule being disrupted. The Anders part was actually excited enough to hear the good news of impending adventure.

Rather than letting his displeasure be shown, he stopped for a moment and then nodded.

“I... Well, truly, I can’t see why taking me along would make any sense. Still, most of the students are leaving suddenly, so... Well, working with Alice is still needed.”

It was a silly idea, of course. Not that there was anything wrong with Alice Cook, as a student of magic. She worked harder than any of the other servants when it came to her lessons, in fact. At least the ones there. Jeld and Daren Willet were both still off in Yanse, with Prince Alpert. They were doing their best to improve on a daily basis. Anders knew that, since he’d checked up on them, regularly, and used magic to send them their next set of instruction, every several days.

It was, he had to figure, incredibly bothersome of him, to do that. Still, it happened and neither man had bothered to realize that he wasn’t their commander, so had simply worked to improve their skills, regularly. Which got him to nod.

“We can work her instruction at a distance, if it’s needed. I should... Probably attend to the King.” There could be a real reason for sending him, after all.

Not just as a guard, of course. Having him there might help if a fight came, but the people going were all very capable, in that fashion, now. Even Princess Sweyn, who was the weakest in active magics, would be a great surprise to anyone attempting to end her with a sword or spear. Her ability to make things explode was small, but a tiny burst in the center of a man’s brain was more than enough to stop almost anyone.

Anders had, rather, insisted she work on her aim, given that. It had meant doing the same for himself and everyone else there, of course.

Which meant that he wasn’t going to be needed on a trip across the ocean. Not to protect anyone. At the same time, he clearly wasn’t the correct person to send as an Ambassador. The fact was that he looked to be thirteen and was, in every way that counted. Sending him in such a capacity to the Modroc might not be seen as an insult, but it could be, at the same time.

Since Prince Erold was already going, his own rather weak claim to being related to King Matheus wasn’t actually that important, either. Not impressive, compared to having the man’s own son right there, at least.

Really, he couldn’t think of even a single real reason for him to be going along at all. Which, honestly, meant that he needed to be prepared for the King to be doing something else. Talking him out of going, even. He’d planned to stay and work with the new students, but the truth was, they’d only had people leave, so far, since starting. Of the three castle servants who had attended regular lessons with him, only Alice was left. There were actually a dozen people tending to rooms using magic now, but of the serious people, two had left to find their fortunes in the Army.

Which probably meant he needed to include them in the lessons given at a distance as well. Otherwise, they might think they were free of him, or something. That wasn’t how being a magic user in Istlan was going to go. Honestly, it was part of the plans for the school there, that everyone involved was also on tap for war, if it came. That or other, less violent, duties, in times of peace.

As he started to walk, he called off a line of spells. The first half left him clean, the dirt of the day, the salt of his sweat of his practice and almost anything on his skin, left in an instant. Flying toward the bare trees in the near distance. He waved his right hand in the direction, to show where he was putting the filth. The rest of the statement was fast, and transformed what he was wearing, even as he moved.

“Clotha vert relen drollo, ere ot ere, doogis kal, fen.”

That, almost instantly, with a sharp flaring of energy, put him in walking robes, in a southern style, which were a deep green, with a black dragon on the front of them. His boots were black, and in a fine enough configuration for the short walk to the castle. As he headed in that direction, not waiting for anyone else, having gotten a summons from the King, the first in some months, everyone else there followed along with him.

It made a certain amount of sense, really. After all, while Depak Sona had a room with him, there at the school, everyone else was still living up at the castle, down the road.

“Or, you know, you could stay and practice?” That made sense to him, but Erold laughed at the idea.

“We could, of course, but the truth is we all need to see to our own packing up. We leave in three days. The first snows have fallen in the hills, after all. Early, but the ship will be here soon, I think. I tried to track it, using magic. There are several headed this way, though I can’t tell which one is coming for us.”

The boy, who was a man now, tempered in war despite his years, brushed at his blond hair. That wasn’t too long, since he fought, daily, and while pretty and long locks were the fashion at the castle, even for men of the court, Prince Erold had been working too hard each day to have time for that kind of thing.

The women there had long hair, except for Sweyn. Hers had grown well, over time, however. She’d cut it dangerously short a while before, as part of a disguise. Anders thought that was the case, at least. They’d never discussed the idea fully. She was a friend of his, after a fashion, but not so close that they sat by the fire in the evenings sharing their secrets and stories.

There was a pause, and then Master Tolan spoke, clearly in a wizard’s trance. While he walked, which was impressive. Anders could, he thought, do much the same thing. Possibly. He tried it, attempting to follow the other man, in what he was seeing, as they moved. It was difficult, but he thought he got a hint of the sea, waves and billowing canvas sails, as the man spoke.

Then he was able to focus on the men working the ship. They spoke Modroc, with an accent. None of them were men he recognized, however. Their words were bland and about what they were doing, in the moment.

Tolan sounded serene, as he spoke. The thin man, looking no older than thirty, having worked out over the last months how to de-age himself, nodded as he did it.

“The Sea Otter, the chartered vessel, is indeed about two days from the docks here. They should be putting in for a week, to load goods.”

Anders had tried to look at the same thing, using the same skills and gotten a mere fraction of that information. More than that, he wasn’t even certain how to get at it. Reading the thoughts of the Captain would inform him of what the man was thinking at that moment, but nothing more. On the top deck, at the wheel, there was a man, but Anders wasn’t even getting a sense of who he was in the scheme of things there, much less the trove of riches Tolan had taken from the same situation.

It was impressive and reminded Anders that he truly had much to learn.

The other man, who nodded at his own thought, sighed and looked down at his clothing, then, slowly, fighting to recall the correct phrases, transformed his own outfit into a simple, but nice, silk uniform in black and purple. Not the colors of the King, but still a fine-looking outfit, in a simple fashion.

Everyone else did much the same, though the ladies all ended up in pretty gowns, since it was what that sort was forced to wear, inside the proper confines of the castle.

Princess Lissa, still carrying a four-foot-long stick, decorated it, as she moved. Salina, for her part, just tossed hers by the side of the road, as they got to it. The others in that Anders beating crew did the same, making a small pile of the things. He tossed his own little fake blade on the pile, since it wasn’t going to aid him at all, if a real fight came. Carrying a stick around was probably a good enough idea, given that.

Even in the castle, no one would think of it as a real threat, and it gave a person something that would even the odds if a larger person decided to start throwing punches. True, he had magic for that, himself, but life had shown him, very recently in fact, that his magical powers could be taken away. Then having a stick would have been fairly useful.

Since that had been no more than five minutes before, he stopped, walked back to the pile and took the five-foot length of oak that Salina had been thrashing him with. It wasn’t his custom to work with lengths of wood like that, so he altered it as they walked. First shortening the thing, to about four-foot, matching Lissa’s endeavors there, then placed some rather intrigued carvings along the length. At the top there was a handle that formed, all out of the one piece. Then he polished it to a shine, as if it were an affectation, instead of a weapon of last resort.

Depak smiled at it, as they moved.

“A lovely piece, but you could do finer work on the carvings? Perhaps show some birds and trees, rather than a simple pattern?”

The rest of the trip to the castle was taken up with him doing more work, with Depak clearly not being truly happy with his artistry at all. The man didn’t scold him, just had him change the thing three times and shrugged as they approached the outer gate.

Then he was finally allowed to put the butt of the thing on the ground, holding the handle, which was too high for the purpose, really. Then, his point wasn’t to have a walking stick, but a weapon. One that wouldn’t alarm anyone too much, if they thought anything of it at all.

There were guards on the gate, but other than nod, they didn’t indicate anyone needed to announce themselves. It was Anders figured, that he was walking with all the important people. If it had just been him, alone, the men, people he’d been around for years, would have stopped him and requested exactly what he thought he was doing there that day.

Which wasn’t wrong. He didn’t live in the building, any longer.

Instead of doing that stopping, he waved a bit, and gave a nod to the man on the right, Carter, who did it back, without so much as narrowing his eyes. Not that it was the last set of guards they had to pass. It happened three times as they walked down the hallway. To Prince Robart’s office, instead of to where the King normally met with people.

Not everyone tried to come with him, as he made his way in the correct direction, able to feel where King Matheus was, at the moment. The ladies all moved away, with a gentle smile from Sweyn, and Prince Erold was actually called away, with some rather urgent signaled to by Count Vertis. The older man glared at Anders, for some reason, but had a softer expression for Depak Sona. A polite one, at the very least.

Instead of just leaving the look alone, the man not having been against him in the past, Anders focused on him, which was clearly noticed by Master Tolan. What he found there was...

Nothing all that dire.

The man had a sore foot, and wanted to approach Anders to see about healing it. The strange look was merely due to the idea that he wasn’t certain how to make the connection, given that Anders had, of late, rather changed in status. Sending a missive or a gift might be in order, since Anders Brolly was a Prince now, if in a foreign land. A thing that the Count actually accepted easily enough. After all, nobility was a fiction to the fellow. Even having been born into it. A castle boy being claimed as such didn’t harm his feelings in the slightest. Truly, he figured that it had been someone merely acting in a clever fashion, when he’d learned of the idea. Either to promote the boy, or just as possibly, to promote Istlan or even Barquea, after a fashion. Things that he could see being of value in all cases.

Before the fellow could move off with the Prince, who was also needed for real work, it seemed, Anders signaled to the man, with a wave.

“Count Vertis? You seem to be limping... Would it be improper for me to look into that, using magic? I’ll understand if it is, of course.”

The words had Master Tolan schooling his face, dropping into a deep trance. Understanding more of what was going on than Anders did, clearly. Even as he read the Count’s response, directly. A thing that probably would have started a battle if it had been noticed.

“Ah... That would be most welcome. The pain in my large toe is... Breathtaking, to be honest. I can barely manage walking, though I don’t wish to appear weak.” The man looked down, as if actually shamed by the infirmity.

Anders simply moved over to the man, and stared down at his foot. The condition was one that was both odd and familiar to him, at the same time. From his first life, in fact. Several of his brother historians had suffered the affliction. Enough so that Farad had researched the malady, to find a cure. None had come, only warnings to stay away from rich foods and wine.

Now, using magic, he smiled a bit and pointed at the shoe, focusing his mind to take the sharp crystals from around the joint lining. Moving them through the flesh, without contact. He was a little slow, since he didn’t have specific terms for the dangerous things. That meant using will and focus to make up for the lack. Once he moved the fine dust of crystals, which were almost invisible in the air, out of the foot, and passed them through the shoe as well, he collected them into a small white orb, about the size of a pea. That was held in his hand, so as to not pollute the stone hall they stood in.

Then he removed the swelling, and the pain of the damage that had been done.

Count Vertis moved his foot, closed his eyes and smiled.

“That is amazing. Simply incredible. Will this come back?”

Before he could speak, Depak Sona did, nodding.

“It likely will. The problem, I believe, is solved, for the moment, but this is a persistent type of illness that will require treatment on occasion. On the good side, this probably purchased you a year, perhaps several, without similar pain.”

The old man, the count, nodded then.

“I understand. This has happened before, several times. Now, what do I owe you for your efforts, Master Healer?”

That, of course, was a bit of a trap, for him. He’d taken some payments, in the past, but the truth was that he had what he needed, as far as riches went. It had been pointed out to him, some time back, that as a Prince, one acknowledged by Istlan now, if not in line for the throne at any close remove, that he must never seem more interested in coin than in aiding his people.

So, scrambling a bit, he smiled, then bowed, using first courtly.

“Perhaps a missive, sent to Prince Robarts? Letting him know that I am taking my duties seriously?” That wasn’t a thing there, not that Anders had ever heard about but the Count, perhaps understanding the whole thing more than most, bowed back, with a twinkle in his eye.

“It will be done, as you suggest. Thank you, Master Healer. Now, Prince Erold, I’m afraid I’m making us late to the meeting that sprung up. Would you...” The man gestured gently with his left hand, causing Erold, who grinned and rolled his eyes, to start walking.

They spoke as they moved off, but other than hearing a bit about Master Brolly, Anders didn’t understand what was being spoken of.

Which was fine, of course. It wasn’t his business after all.

There were two guards on the door to the chamber they needed, but it opened, before either of the familiar men could ask what they wanted.

Robarts tucked his head out, looked at everyone and nodded, with a small smile.

“Ah! Excellent. We’re working in here today, gentlemen. There are some small matters, if we could gain your council on them?”

The guards barely shifted out of the way, leaving just enough room for one man to pass at a time, between their spears. If that fellow wasn’t too large and turned sideways. Inside the room there were several chairs, as well as the King, and surprisingly, several others.

Sulana Meegan sat next to Princess Aisla, who for her portion, was next to Ambassador Fromet, from the Modroc. Everyone seemed a bit stiff, but no one was shouting or making threats, it seemed, even if they had all recently been on different sides of the same far-off war.

Seeing them all, Anders just started bowing. After all, as was so common, in that space he was, clearly, the least important person.

Not admitting that could be courting disaster, so he bent in half and gave what he hoped was a polite smile, attempting very hard to include everyone.

Chapter two

King Matheus gestured toward the other chairs, across from himself, near Prince Robarts’ desk, with a rather long-suffering expression. One that, Anders was certain, would have been thought rude, if it had been on his face, and not the man in command. Still, the man locked eyes with him, not anyone else there, as if he, in some fashion, was the problem.

Anders hoped not, but honestly couldn’t think of a single way that it could be such, to be honest. He tried, and nearly started to read thoughts, when Matheus sighed.

“I dislike bothering you, Master Brolly, but it seems that a duty has come up, and only you are acceptable as an agent to carry it out. It’s rather an issue, or we all would leave you to your new school, as it is your chosen task...” The man actually went hard for a moment, and was clearly fighting an urge to glare at someone else in the room.

Sulana Meegan, seeming nearly nasty in her tone, glared herself. Not at the King, or his heir or even the former enemy. No, her eyes went directly to her side-daughter, Aisla.

“Rather! The Sulat of Modroc has requested you attend him, as a common entertainer!” She softened then, actually managing a slightly brittle seeming smile. “Not that I blame him. Your illusion shows are well worth seeing. Still, if you’re going to that portion of the world, you have to go to see Sula Darian, or it would be considered an insult. Also, as a Prince of two lands, that request is, perhaps, untoward.” On the last word, she turned to glare at, once again, her own side-daughter.

Princess Aisla shrugged at him.

“I don’t think father will panic if you skip going out of your way just to give him a hug. As for being a simple entertainer... Well, I suppose that is an issue. When you were requested, my understanding is that your situation that way wasn’t established, so it’s perhaps a bit much to blame the Sulat for not having learned of it yet? Both Princess Sweyn and Duma Sett suggested in letters that you be invited to live in Modroc, in fact. Back when you were merely their room servant. I don’t think any insult was meant in that, either.”

Prince Robarts, fighting a grin, rather valiantly, gave a slow nod.

“Indeed! They didn’t request it for your room services, however. They sought only to attract your magical talent to their land. A well thought out plan, I have to admit. Truly, they might attempt to get you to stay on, which would be a loss to us, here. I can’t blame them for it, if they try. Perhaps a pretty wife, some lands and titles to smooth the way?”

This, interestingly, was directed at the Ambassador, who narrowed his eyes, and slowly, allowed his own face to seem slightly mischievous.

“I will send a note, to that affect? Princess Sweyn has a younger sister. Dimian. A lovely young lady. She’s... I believe a year older than you are, Prince Anders? You didn’t hear it from me, but she’s even lovelier than her older sisters. They have a different mother.” The man was clearly teasing, though, instead of glaring at him, Sulana Meegan took a sharp breath.

“That... Is possible, I would have to think. Allow me to pass that idea past my husband?” She turned then toward Aisla and shook her head, firmly. “As for Anders not going to Lo’usa Tet when he’s in that area, I have to disagree. He will be going to see the family there!”

At first, Anders and even Old Farad, didn’t get the idea. It was an extra step, but it made sense that if people were going to call you family, you should act like it was a real thing. At least if you wanted it to be such. It wasn’t until Aisla tightened her lips and spoke that he caught the idea.

“How do we make that work, Mother Meegan? Send Princess Sweyn and her cohort with him to the land of their recent enemy? Have Anders travel alone into a strange land, after such a visit? It would be much easier for everyone to travel to the north port, drop off you and the girls, as well as the servants and then travel on to Main Port, around the bend of the continent.”

Instead of giving a large speech on the matter, the Sulana merely shrugged.

“I have to imagine that the princess and her husband would be most welcome, in their travels. Even their people here are delightful, or so I hear. Why, from you, Daughter Aisla. We of Barquea will not hold these people guilty over a minor war they had nothing to do with. We are a civilized people, after all. As are the Modroc. It isn’t an issue.”

Anders could see it as a problem, but oddly, had an idea that would make doing just that, taking the Modroc with them into the heart of Barquea, make some small sense.

He spoke, his voice low. For him at least. It was still a child’s sound, though on occasion of late it had taken to breaking and making strange squeakings and rumbles, as happened to men of his age. Not constantly, and that had, thankfully, not been a problem that day.

Anders held up a single finger, and touched it to his lips. Everyone looked at him, as if he were demanding silence, instead of thinking. He could see that, since covering a mouth like that was a signal of exactly that, in many places.

He didn’t tap the stick he was holding, looking over at Depak Sona, instead.

“Some months ago there was a discussion of marrying Eltha Tennet to Hoatha Eta, to sooth the anger of war. We’d need to gain a greater station for Eltha, I think. Duma Sett had mentioned something along those lines, I believe. Still, it doesn’t have to be real to work. Would the Sulat be amenable to such an idea, do you think, Ambassador Fromet?”

The man didn’t blurt anything out, touching his own mouth then, stroking his beard. That was gray, and well kept, trimmed in a fashion that showed consideration of the fashions in the land he’d found himself.

“I do not know? The idea isn’t inherently a poor one. Truly, none can doubt that a former ruler of that land would be of significance for such a marriage. The true question then, is, would Eltha Tennet, a woman of... Rather humble origins, be considered worthy enough for that to count as an alliance pairing? We would need the word of your Sula, for that.”

Anders, knowing he was being rude, hunched a bit, sighed and waved at Robarts.

“Could I borrow something to write on? I’ll need to compose a message.”

That wasn’t a short thing, and he didn’t send it directly to Sula Darian, when he spoke the spell. A thing that both Depak and Tolan understood, even if they didn’t know who he was contacting. It wasn’t until he was finished speaking the far-talking spell that he explained to the others what had just taken place.

“That went to Prince Naveed, directly. With a suggestion that, if he liked the idea, we sell it as having come from him, directly. Unless he wishes to marry Eltha himself, of course. I added a recommendation there. She’s a marvelous person. I need to check on what he intends that way. I also mentioned that he should summon me, personally, if it is desirable, so that everyone knows he’s in charge.” He didn’t let even a hint of a smile touch his lips at the words. “After all, I rather promised him that I’d only come and visit every ten years or so, and here I am, coming back already. That’s... a bit rude of me.”

Even if it wasn’t his fault.

Aisla, at least thought it was humorous and laughed at the words.

“I recall that, now that you mention it. That isn’t a poor plan, getting him in on this with us. At least if he likes the idea.”

That last bit was leading, and Anders closed his eyes, to focus on the far-off Prince. Heir to a land that was larger than Istlan was by five times, and who was also, potentially, capable of knowing when he was being spied upon. A thing that the man missed, totally.

Of interest, he’d literally run to take the message to his father, the Sula. Anders didn’t really think of it as being that important. It could even be a ruse, if they wanted. A reason to make an extra stop on the way to their final destination, without it seeming too strained or odd.

It took some time, and people spoke of different topics, as they sat there, for an hour and a half, while the matter was discussed. Oddly, it was being taken rather seriously, by the Sula. The man, vaguely, recalled having seen an image of Eltha Tennet, the year before, even. Anders had shown it to him, along with many others, in their first real meeting.

Finally, the older man, rather on purpose, getting that he was being observed, spoke to his son.

Anders nodded along, then repeated the words.

“Eltha Tennet is invited to Lo’usa Tet, to see if she finds Prince Naveed to be a suitable marriage candidate. Also up for that position will be Prince Lassa and former Sula Hoatha Eta. This offer is being put forward even if it will not work as more than a simple marriage, the young lady coming with high recommendations, as she is.”

Aisla gasped.

“That’s... Wonderful! We should go and let her know of the offer? Lassa... He’s a bit younger. Fifteen, I think? He was a baby when I left and I didn’t get to see him this last trip. Mother Meegan? You know more there, perhaps?”

The woman, instead of being mean, or undercutting anyone, simply let her head play side to side.

“He’s a Prince... A bit slow in magical learning. Truly, we should send him to you, Prince Anders, for training that way. That or get Lissa to work with him? He’s not backwards, but perhaps not perfectly oriented to studies? It would... truly, I’ve only met Eltha Tennet in passing... She seemed a kind enough woman. Would she be a good Sulana, do you think, Prince Anders? I’ve heard that she is a special friend of your own?”

He nearly defended her name, since all they’d done was share a few kisses, which nearly had him blushing to think of, but instead he thought about the idea for a moment and considered it carefully.

“She’s hard working, and despite being called a student, is clearly a master of her art. She’s also learned other magics of late. The magician’s art of Barquea, as well as wizardry skills and the new null magics, so she’s well rounded that way. I don’t know if she speaks the language of Barquea, but she’s a capable person, so we can see to that, shortly, if it isn’t the case already. I’d have to say... Yes, actually. She’d make a fine Sulana. What she lacks is a title of note.” He shrugged. “We should proclaim her a Mage of Istlan, since that’s nearly the same as being a princess.” He paused then as everyone stared at him. “A High Mage? We’ll need something impressive sounding.”

Everyone in the room managed to look either baffled or affronted, even if he was, mainly, joking.

Only Prince Robarts considered the idea seriously.

“A Great One of Istlan? That’s a title in the South, isn’t it, Depak Sona?”

The man, instead of sneering or seeming angry at the claim of such a title, clapped his hands.

“You know, it is now. Perhaps though, we should name her a Great One of Barquea? Or...” He paused for a moment, holding up his hand and lowering his head. “Ambassador, can we get a message to your Sulat Mondeth?”

The older man nodded.

“Yes? It will take some months, but it can be done. Probably not before we arrive there. We have no magical means of communications, as Prince Anders used a short while ago, unfortunately.”

He nodded at those words, thinking.

“I can teach her that, but for now... We should see if some of our Devica friends might not carry a message to the Sulat there? It’s a friendly land, for their kind, so, if we request politely, they might do that? Is there a Shaman we should seek, directly? If they’ll aid us, I mean?”

The words had the Ambassador furrowing his brow.

“Shaman Smidt? He isn’t the highest in the employ of the Sulat, but I know his name, having met the man several times.”

Anders made a face.

“Smidt? A relative of Natan’s?” The man had died, from drinking poisoned wine, over a year before.

There was a sour expression on the man’s face and then a slow nod.

“His brother. Warid Smidt. Still, he...” The man stopped then and sighed. “I don’t know if he’ll be seeking revenge for his brother’s untimely death or not. I explained, to the Sulat, in letters, but I have no information about what the family was told at all. It could be a problem, or not.”

Anders wasn’t worried, personally. After all, he’d killed a man to avenge Natan already. The wrong one, but it was something to hold up, if needed at all. Proof that it wasn’t a thing they took lightly, if nothing else.

Anders let his face tighten, then stood up.

“If I have your leave, Sire? I’ll attempt to make arrangements and see if we can contact Warid Smidt, on this topic? That of Eltha Tennet?”

The man stood up as well, his ample form making the chair under him creak a bit as he stood. He wasn’t fat, but it was clear that he was a wealthy man. Healthy and strong, since food hadn’t been too short in his life.

“If you would see to that for us, please? You can deliver any return messages to Robarts’ directly? If you don’t see me, first, of course. Thank you for coming to aid us in this.” The man bowed, if only a small bit, so had that returned. No one else got up, meaning they intended to stay for some reason. Which was fine enough, really.

It took Anders nearly half an hour, and walking back to the school, in order to find Far. The tan man, no taller than Anders was, for all he looked to be about fifty, was simply sitting under a tree, reading a book, outside the school itself. It was a bit cool for that, but the fellow was dressed warmly enough. His white blond hair was long and ran down the back of his head. He had no beard, having shaved that off, for some reason. Anders hadn’t asked why.

His own face was showing the start of a real beard now, itself. It was a bit short and mainly on his chin, so far. It would fill in, he didn’t doubt. Prince Robarts sported a nice thick beard at least, and was his uncle. About half the men there in Istlan shaved. Meaning he probably should, himself, soon. The trick there was that he had no clue how to get that done.

It involved a special blade or very sharp knife, he knew. Other than that, he had no idea about the process. In over a hundred years alive, in two lives, that had never once come up for him. As Farad, he’d always worn a big, full, beard. Trimmed at times, but only that.

Now, the man himself, the original and true Farad, sat under a tree, his face rather lacking in that way, completely. It meant that Anders could see him smile as he walked up, the book being closed, but held on his lap, not risking the slightly damp ground, lest it damage the pages.

Instead of saying hello, the ancient fellow nodded at the book.

“A treatise on the use of pole arms. I was just committing it to memory. How is your day going?”

Anders smiled back, since being sour or angry all the time wasn’t going to work with... Really, anyone he knew.

“My day goes well, actually. I was hoping that one of our Devica friends could help me pass a message? To a Shaman in Modroc. Um, Shaman Smidt. Warid is his personal name. He works closely with the Sulat there, I heard? The goal is to open communications there, of course. Nothing against Warid Smidt, of course. He’s the brother of a man I knew. He died, over a year ago. Poison. I killed the man found guilty of doing that.”

The man under the tree snorted.

“That was rather carefully spoken, wasn’t it? The man found guilty. Not the guilty man? Not the killer?”

Instead of explaining, Anders nodded.

“Exactly, and well noticed. It stopped a war. Anyway, as you know, they have a long tradition of working with entities, so that could work for them, I think? A message being passed that way? I don’t know how to get that done, really.” Except that, he kind of did. He’d been around Far for some time and the man had shown him, and openly explained, how to do such things, several times.

He also got that Anders was leaving him an out, so that he didn’t have to help or risk his friends to the task. Not that it was a real problem or danger to the beings of pure energy.

“Ah? Well, here, sit, and let us see if anyone around here feels up to such a task?”

What transpired then was, as Anders should have understood when he walked up, not the man doing the work for him. No, he was there to teach, so walked Anders through making the request on his own. That took a bit, not having an innate link to such beings. Far did, but had worked out, long before, that everyone could work with the Devic, just like everyone could learn to do some basic magic of any sort.

Some were strong in various areas, making certain skills easier for them.

The trouble with the entities wasn’t in getting them to help you, of course. No, it was all about seeing and hearing them. Anders strained and struggled to note where such things were, and it took real work for them to make him hear them, most of the time. It wasn’t a physical thing, either. Not magical directly, either. The Devic or Devica, which were just two different names for the same thing, were clearly magical in nature, of course. Reading them using wizard skills didn’t really work that well.

It was a different set of skills that were needed for that kind of thing. One that he was weak in, making it harder to find out how to improve enough for it to really work.

So, over the course of an hour, as the sky darkened, he finally managed to get the right idea across, and three of the Devica flew off, in what he hoped was the right direction. As they watched the energy beings, looking like floating orbs in the air, fly away, Farad grinned at him.

Anders, for his part, sighed.

“So, that was slow and painful. Do you think they actually understood me?”

The other man stood up then, and, book in hand, stretched, bending over, almost in half.

“Oh, yes. Their understanding of us is always much better than the other way around. They see things differently, and some of them, those who were never human, can have a variety of issues in dealing with our world. They are terrifically powerful, but that doesn’t mean they know how things work, perfectly. These all understood your message, the target of the moment and that you were working very hard to be polite to them. That’s important, since we can’t really pay them.”

That had been a surprise to learn, since Anders had always heard the dark entities took their payment in the blood and energy of the dead. That, it turned out, was a pure slander. They didn’t need anything of the sort. At times they’d take it, if it was offered, but it didn’t help them at all. They might take a sweet, or cup of wine as well, which would help them exactly as much as blood did.

Not at all.

The only thing people had to offer them was attention and praise. Which they liked, but only about as well as anyone might. It was part of why Far always called them his friends. Then, he honestly cared about them and tried to protect them, if it was at all possible. Even to the level of asking them to not continue giving him aid, if things appeared which might trap or contain them.

Over a thousand years of doing this, that kind of being had learned that Farad Ibn Iftel honestly meant it. Consistently and in every case. He protected them, his friends, first.

Always.

Passing messages, even if the distance was great for Anders, was safe enough, however. The trick would be in the Shaman being open to such things. He probably would be, but the traditions of Modroc were different than the ones that Far used, day to day. They entreated and begged a lot more, and didn’t have some basic tricks down, as of yet.

Like inviting one of the beings to ride with a living person and leave upon request. In Modroc, that kind of thing was left to the entities, which could lead to permanent possession if the being thought that was the best plan. Which, when Anders thought about it, made perfect sense to him. Farad had lived a long time, before he’d had his mind placed in a crystal. Anders had lived, rather poorly, for a little over a decade.

To him it made some sense that Farad was able to live his life better than he could. He also got that the old man in his head had worked decently hard to not do that. He’d insisted, constantly, that they work and learn, even struggle at times, to become stronger or better at things, but what they actually did, he had to admit, was mainly what Anders wanted.

At least for the big things. Like learning magic, or going on adventures.

He thought about this for a moment, and then shook his head, which caught Far’s attention. The ancient man, who looked no older than Depak Sona, so around fifty, noticed that move and set his attention in his direction.

“You have a consideration?”

Anders shrugged, not really ready to share all of what he’d really been thinking.

“I’m forgetting the memories that we shared. I have the broad strokes, and even a few specific scenes, but it’s as if I read them in a written work and didn’t bother using the memory skills for it. I was thinking, earlier, that I need to do my own learning. That... Well, everyone has to do that. It isn’t special.”

The other man, who was still on his feet, glanced at the dark sky. Anders could make his light-colored hair out still, and that he was holding something, but that was all, really. Meaning it was probably close to time to go inside. He should have done it earlier, he knew. The school didn’t have a cook, other than him. A lot of the time people walked to the castle to get food, since he was busy enough that meals could be sketchy there, given that.

Far laughed. It was a merry, and soft thing.

“True. A person can get lost in bothering to think that they’re important, or blessed. The special chosen one... In my long life I have never met such a being. Only people who lived their lives, that others, normally well after their deaths, decided to proclaim as being more than normal. There are people who live grand lives. Huge things that impact those around themselves greatly.” The man stood there, silently for a moment, leaving the apparent contradiction hanging in the space between them. “They aren’t better than their fellows. They aren’t special in some fashion beyond what anyone in the same place might have managed. It isn’t that no one is worthy, of course. No, it’s simply that almost everyone is.”

“Almost?”

The man started walking then, headed toward the school.

“Oh, there are definitely people who lose their right to be considered the same as others. Not by being too boring, slow or even lazy. History is filled with people who went out of their way to do the wrong things. It’s tempting to forgive them, from time to time. I’ve done that myself in fact. With a certain sort of person, that’s almost certainly a mistake.”

The words were a bit dark at the end, and Anders wasn’t certain what the man was talking about. The Farad inside of him had an idea, of course.

“Ganges and Rothina?”

They both walked, the door only about a hundred feet away from Far’s reading tree. When Anders touched the handle and turned it, to allow them entrance, the other man spoke again, reaching out to touch Anders on the shoulder.

“I don’t know. I fought them, both of them, for nearly fifteen hundred years, Anders. In that time, doing the very best I could manage, it never even occurred to them that I was anything except happenstance. Which is a bit rude of them, don’t you think?” The man sounded pleasant enough, suddenly. “My point here is that, in all that time, I didn’t truly know them or their minds. When we shared thoughts, some months back, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were capable of hiding things from us? I think I could do it. You can probably work that out as well. So, I see no reason they couldn’t manage it. The question then is, if they could do it, did they? And, if they did, is it to hide an abiding evil, or merely so that their old friend won’t be ashamed of what they have done, in other ways? I can guarantee that if you live a long enough life there will be things that haunt you with shame, Anders. Even one such as you will eventually feel it.”

They went in then, but Far stopped talking, just clearing his throat.

“Now, what would you have for the late meal? I think there was some saved cow from last night? I could make a beef pie, with some roots?”

“I’ll do that? It’s my job. Unless you’re hinting that you can do a better job of it than I can? Which is just true. That being the case I should get you to show me how to do it, even if it takes twice as long that way.”

Instead of acting put out, the ancient man slapped him on the back.

“There we go! We’ll do that then. Say... Do you think you can make one of the cupboards cooler inside?”

“I can. How cold do you want it? Enough to freeze water?”

They discussed that, the other man wanting something warmer than that, but not by too much. Indeed, he had Anders working for hours, making a cool box, one for ice and another that would keep things warm. They each needed a spell to be used each time, but would hold in the hot or cold, thanks to layers of straw that were packed around the things. It took Anders going to the woods, to get some extra wood, but it looked nice enough, once they finished the effort.

It was, after a fashion, their evening’s entertainment. At least that was how Anders was taking it. Farad, the real version, seemed to have something different in mind.

“So, Eltha is going off to be married? At least possibly. That’s big news. Is this Naveed kind, do you think?”

He did, so nodded.

“He seems a good man, actually. A bit heavy, but just in the way that rich men sometimes are. Hoatha, Ganges, he’s decent as well.” Anders hoped so, at least. He wasn’t the kind to beat his wives at least. He was willing to wager every coin he had on that fact.

Far nodded, holding a heavy cabinet to the wall, so that Anders could attach it with magic. Merging it with the stone, in a complicated fashion. It took several tries for him to work out how to do that well enough. The other man didn’t act as if he was tiring from holding the weight at any point.

“Certainly, Ganges is fine for that... Only, I notice that you didn’t suggest yourself for the role? Is there, perhaps, a different young lady who’s caught your attention?”

“No? Who? Lady Martya?” She wasn’t young, but she didn’t look old at all.

The man winked at him then.

“Princess Lissa? She’s already well placed, has personal interests that match your own and is prettier than most women could hope to be. She’s also less than a year younger than you, I think? Not so much as for that being thought strange at all.”

Farad, the one inside of him, suddenly took over, glaring at the other man.

“She’s twelve.”

That got a shrug in return.

“You’re thirteen.” The words came with a grin. It suddenly looked annoying. Familiar as well, since Anders held the same expression all the time, no doubt.

“Part of me is, but the rest is an old man.”

That got a head shake.

“No, Anders. You aren’t two people in one body. You have a copy of my old memories, from long ago. It’s a good trick, I think anyone would admit, but it isn’t my soul, or spirit. You are a man of thirteen years, with an interesting set of quirks. There is nothing at all wrong with you courting a girl who is nearly your own age. Besides, it’s clear she likes you. You should think about it? A man could do worse.”

It was an odd conversation, but thankfully the returning Devic, all three of them, derailed the planned line of talk from wherever it was heading.

Thankfully.

Chapter three

Anders was busy over the next days. There was a bit of packing and going into the city to buy supplies for the trip, though this time they were actually traveling with people who could share the cooking duties, even on the ship. They weren’t new people even, simply being two of the men who had traveled in with Princess Sweyn and the others in the first place.

That Anders had never understood why they were there was a bit shocking to him, having investigated the men for various reasons and even having focused on their thoughts, as well as speaking to them, almost every single day. He’d thought they were guards, if polite ones who didn’t walk around with weapons showing all the time.

More than that, in the group of men that had arrived over a year before, none of them were fighters, in particular. There were artists, craftsmen and even an entertainer who sang and played music, all of whom had done their work without Anders being the wiser to it, the whole time.

Given he’d been in charge of watching them, at least occasionally, that information left him feeling poorly. Both parts of him in fact. It wasn’t that important, but to have missed such things as one of the men being a dedicated musician, who had played for King Matheus and his family at least once a month for over a year was...

Daunting.

He’d truly figured that, in his own area, there in the castle, he’d been up on at least the situations he was around regularly. Not, perhaps, the work of the spies or the intrigue, since no one was going to fill him in on those things, but things like the men of Modroc going to an art studio out back to work in clay every day should have been easily enough noticed.

True, none of the men from there understood what he did each day either, other than coming to clean for them, or going off to the war, but that could be forgiven. They weren’t tasked with watching him.

It was embarrassing, to say the least. Dangerous as well. Worse, when he’d brought the idea up with Prince Robarts, the man had merely smiled at him. Then suggested that it wasn’t the place of a boy to be aware of all the goings on of the castle. It had been meant well, but had still hurt a bit.

He was, at least inside his head, more than just some boy, after all.

Still, he had a pack ready, and a small chest of gold and silver coins, in a sealed box, at the bottom of his things. That meant not taking a large array of fine clothing, but the truth was he didn’t have that kind of thing anyway. What he did have were weapons and his fancy new walking stick, which was a bit longer than the one he’d first started with. It didn’t have a handle on it now, and reached to the top of his head, but the fine engravings and carvings left no doubt in the minds of those seeing it that the thing was a decoration.

Which was his plan for it, anyway. It was meant to leave him seeming decorative, and perhaps a bit full of himself, rather than armed constantly.

He’d hired several wagons from the city to take the food and drink he’d purchased, at a dear price, to the docks. Those were some hours away, by wagon, so he settled into the back of one of the rough conveyances, instead of taking one of the places in the carriages provided. That wasn’t about him being grumpy or not caring to ride with the others, either.

They only had so much space in the six fine looking royal coaches, after all. It was important for the fine types to ride in comfort, on the way home, so that Istlan wouldn’t look poor or uncouth when the tale was told, later. Anders was a bit surprised when Hoatha, Depak and Lady Martya climbed in with him, each of them finding a space in the mainly empty wagon. They also had Brenner, one of the Modroc artists. The one who did paintings, in fact.

They rode in silence for a bit, with Anders finally shrugging, since clearly his clever plans of reading minds and watching politely had left him crippled, as far as learning things had gone in the last year.

“Lady Martya! I hadn’t heard that you were planning to travel with us. Is... All well?” He sounded absurdly phony to his own ears. From their smiles, everyone else thought the same.

Laughing a bit, Martya nodded.

“Well, I came to see an old friend, from my ancient memories, of a life that I never lived. I did that. Two of you, in fact. So it’s time for me to go home. Saffron is staying here, since she met a nice man and is considering marriage. That gives us a spy here and we don’t really need more than one or two of those.” The mention of another such being was, clearly done on purpose. Not even to needle him.

At least it seemed casual in the mentioning of it.

So he nodded.

“I haven’t been keeping up with her as I should have. It’s not being at the castle, of course. I’m a bit surprised that neither of you asked Far to come along. To move back with you, perhaps?”

Martya shook her head, but smiled. It was a bit sad.

“Time makes us all strangers to each other, doesn’t it? I recall living with him, for twenty years, longer, if we count the time in the hermitage. So long ago that it’s nearly gone now, even from my own mind. I...” She shook her head, and didn’t speak, for a long time. When she did, she seemed a bit more lively. “When I heard that you had been affected by the crystal with him in it, all I could think of was to come here, as fast as possible and see this for myself. I couldn’t sleep or eat, for nearly a week, after getting that news! Then I came here and found that you were just a child. That I’d come too soon through the pages of time. Then I knew you for some time, before meeting Farad himself. That...”

She shrugged and looked at Hoatha.

“He seems fine. Accomplished and well spoken. Kind, even. I’m not drawn to him though, as I’d thought I would be. I could see being his friend, in time, but... Not his love.”

That had Depak, oddly, nodding.

“There are other factors involved in such things. Love is never a simple question. Most of the time we don’t see it, since it is a thing that happens to us, or around us, in a short time frame. Those who live long enough will, eventually, see that friendship is far more important than love itself.”

Everyone else there seemed to get that, instantly. Even Anders, after a moment. He’d never been in love, of course. He had been friends with people, in both his lives, and knew that part of things. Also, he had a lot of tales and stories in his mind. The thing there was that many of those spoke of love in a very different, highly unrealistic, light.

After a while, Hoatha looked at Martya and made an odd, half move with his right hand. It was blocked by the wall of the wagon, the weathered gray wood rough in that portion of things.

“I feel much the same. Far is Farad Ibn Istel, in truth. At the same time, he isn’t the man I once knew at all. Perhaps, in many ways, for the better. The one I loved is gone now. I had thought, at first, that Anders would be him, in some fashion. As you always told me though, Rothina, those the crystals impact are truly themselves, not a copy of another. It can be hard to believe that, at first, but I think you are correct.”

Rolling her eyes, Lady Martya nodded.

“Well, I am an expert at such things. Perhaps the greatest of such to have ever lived. Now, before it gets too maudlin over lost loves or loves that never were... I was speaking to Lady Lyse the other day. She mentioned that our half plan to have you married to poor Eltha Tennet is going forward, Hoatha? That’s hardly fair to the girl, is it?” There was a teasing smile on her lips as the words were spoken, at least.

That got a chuckle in return.

“So it seems? I was surprised that she has been named the Great One of Modroc. Not that she isn’t shaping up to be a fine hand at magic of many sorts, now. I was there to see her awarded the position by Ambassador Fromet and Princess Sweyn, but no one has told me how that came to be. They’ve never had such a title for their people before, lacking grand magics, as they do.”

Brenner snorted, and spoke in Modroc. A thing that everyone there, including Depak Sona, appeared to understand easily enough. The conversation had been in Istlan before that.

“Your Shaman sent devica to the Sulat in my homeland and suggested it to him, most directly. I have that from Fromet. Really, he told me that it was you who worked with the beings to bring that about, Brolly. I didn’t know you were a Shaman as well...” There was a strange look then, which lingered, as if asking a question.

So he answered, honestly enough.

“I’m just learning such things. It isn’t a particular skill of mine, so I’ll never be truly great at it, but that doesn’t get me out of learning, for some reason.” He tried to make himself seem wry about it, which got a strange reaction from Depak.

He sighed and shook his head.

“That, clearly, is a simple truth. I’ve loosely collected information on different disciplines for a while now, without truly learning them. I think, perhaps, that it is time for such laziness to be done. Especially since I have two apprentices to see to now.”

Anders grinned. The man had aided him greatly over the past year and a half, in his own learning, but, even though they’d said the word apprentice at times, it had never been a true thing, between them. Then, it also hadn’t been needed.

So he understood who was meant.

“Yes. I wonder, how will you train two Great Ones? There will be a need for lessons that surpass simple skill in magic, I would think.”

Everyone looked at Depak then, only to find him seeming grave and stern, for a moment.

“Why, Anders, I’m going to get you to do it, while I stand back and call out suggestions, of course. Either Princess Salina or Princess Lissa could stand against armies to good affect now. Salina even is a veteran of such things, due to the campaign here. They will need to be pushed for some time, however, over a decade, to ensure they are willing to keep up with their skills for a long while. I plan to bring them back here, when we return, after our visit. There might be some trouble in that though, which will require me to move there, while they train. It depends on what Darian says on the matter. They are his daughters, after all.” There was a long, drawn out, sigh, then. “I have to imagine that these two being slated to take my place will come as a shock to him. I haven’t actually mentioned the idea, as of yet.”

Anders hadn’t either. Then, he didn’t put words in the ear of the Sula on a regular basis. So far it had happened one time. When he’d been checking to see if anyone else could recall that Hoatha had once been Ganges the Great and Terrible.

That information having been erased from the minds of most people who might know of such a thing, using magic. Not Anders or his familial line, however, which was interesting. For the moment, he merely thought about what training Salina and Lissa might need. It was, oddly, very close to what he probably should look into for himself.

Even if he wasn’t planning to be a Great One.

“Right. You can handle that portion of things. We’ll need to increase the martial training that those two have. Some classes on leading armies, I mean, as well as fighting with weapons. We’ve done a little that way, but only with an eye toward defending themselves. They should learn how to lead troops, so at the very least they can understand the ideas involved, if they come up. That means knowing how each kind of trooper fights, as well. They should also work part of the year in support functions for the military. Healing, building projects and roads. So that they’re used to being around rough types like that and eating mainly hard bread and road rations.”

He was actually joking, thinking that giving them a few books to read on the topic of war might well be enough. Depak Sona gave him a half bow, his arms going out to the sides, not fully extended.

“Which is why I plan to leave such things to you, Anders Sona. I would have had them making jewelry and doing some small illusion plays for practice, even though I recall times when such as what you just suggested would have aided me greatly, in my first decades aiding in battles. It took me far longer to pick up in the field than if I’d merely been given instruction.”

He nodded, ready to go over the particulars of what would be needed for that, when Hoatha clapped. It was a sudden thing and distracting.

“So! Excitement all around. Anders, you’re being called to Modroc for a purpose? If they’re clever, they’ll beg you to stay there and teach, of course. That or marry you to one of their Princesses. After all, you’re tenth in line for the throne of Barquea and... Something like seventh in line for Istlan? I was speaking with your Prince Robarts on that the other month, in fact. You also have a good claim on Yanse now. Even if your younger brother is to take the throne, you’re a prince there, as well. By their own traditions, even. It means that a clever ruler could add you to his family and potentially consolidate many lands. To the benefit of all of them.”

Brenner, who had been listening carefully, but without speaking, went wide eyed at that information. Then he swallowed.

“Our room boy is a prince?”

Martya answered, in the language of the Modroc, her voice firmer and a bit aggressive sounding as she spoke, even if she wasn’t snapping, in particular.

“Oh? You missed that portion of things? Being too distracted with pretty court ladies, no doubt! Yes, Anders is important. Then, you knew that from the start, I wager? Who sends a magician to clean rooms? Only those of Istlan! They only had the one who could have done it, back then, as well, so it wasn’t just an honor to your people, but a sign of true friendship. The King had his own grandson come to serve you all, daily, as a signal that he cared for your wellbeing.”

That was a lie, and a thing that Brenner had probably picked up on, since the real room servants had been a bit lazy toward the foreign men for nearly the whole time that Anders had been gone. They were better now. Mainly because a good dozen of the servants had learned enough magic to be useful that way, and even if they didn’t want to keep on with the task of learning, had orders to clean the rooms using their skills, every day.

Which meant that magic, at least in the castle, was finally being accepted as fairly normal. It helped, even if Brenner and his people barely had any magic at all. Some trinkets that worked well enough, in influencing people, and the two illusionists. Not that they were merely that, any longer. Eltha had been teaching Duma Sett each day, after all.

At least Anders hoped that was the case. If not, he was going to have to make fun of the girl for the lack.

Brenner faked a laugh then.

“Well! That’s fitting for the Princess, at least. A bit much, just to clean my space. They could have just presented a brush and a bucket and it would have been fine. Your Istlan ways are odd to me, I must admit. Far more civil than we’d been led to believe, however. At least once people warmed up to us a bit. That took some time and some lonely nights, I assure you all!”

That statement was left alone, by the others. Anders did as well, since, he had to figure, all of his nights were lonely and would be for some time to come. Farad, the one in his mind, had learned that it was possible to stand aside from his fear of women and had, in recent weeks and months, more or less been trying not to panic every time one of that sort patted Anders on the arm or flirted a bit. It was made easier for him due to the fact that, even though they did flirt and even suggest taking him to their beds occasionally, none of the women there seemed to actually mean it.

Oh, Anders did wonder if some of them might have done that sort of thing with him if he’d shown more interest, but even the boy inside didn’t assume that it was more than a way to get his attention for most of the ladies. They weren’t seeking marriage or even thinking of him as a fine lover, given his years and relative lack of experience in such matters.

Plus, even there at court, if a man wanted such things from a woman, any of them, he had to take the initiative. They might flirt a bit, and let him know that such a thing could, potentially be possible, but it was required of the man to bring it into being. He thought. That seemed to be the case, at least. So far Anders had made a point to be polite to such ladies, and suggest that he was interested, but also mention that he’d been instructed, by the King, to be careful in that way.

Which was literally true.

The man might not have spent hours each day instructing him, but in the three occasions they’d spoken, over the last four months, that topic had come up twice. It was, mainly, about making certain that Anders wasn’t going around leaving children all over the place. He hadn’t been, but the King kept assuming that there would be a time when that sort of thing would be tempting.

A thing that Anders, and even Farad, both could understand. The needs of the body did press at them, after all. It was just that Farad mainly buried that kind of thing in work and the old fellow was actually good at that kind of thing.

They rode in silence, for a while. Then, because there had been a request for him to entertain, once in Modroc, he picked Brenner’s mind for what kinds of illusions would be interesting to the Sulat and his people. They were familiar with that sort of thing, it being the one type of standard magic people practiced openly. The rest, it seemed, was the product of the Devica. It meant that, six hours later, when they reached the Southern docks of Istlan, he had the bones of three productions ready to be fleshed out. He truly needed to do more with the music for each, and to make the productions more interactive for the audience.

He’d worked out how to make things look, feel and even smell more real, but if the audience weren’t close enough to the magic, half of that would be wasted. Of interest, while Brenner had spoken of being interested in stories being told that way, most of their common illusion practices were really about simply showing objects, animals and people, which moved about and looked interesting. It sounded rather grand, the way that it was spoken about, if different than what Anders had been doing, in the main, by a good score.

Meaning he’d need to do both, and have more things ready, in case people found his efforts lacking, doing things the way he wanted. He set that aside for the moment, as the wagons stopped, the carriages already letting their people out, to stretch their legs. He could see the docks, and had, with a bit of help from Master Tolan, learned which of them was the one chartered to take them on their trip. It was a large thing, and actually designed to carry passengers, instead of being a cargo vessel that had a few empty crew rooms.

Not that they didn’t have that sort of thing to load into the hold as well. The plan wasn’t to leave for a week, but it had been felt that getting there early was the wiser course of action, since they could leave as soon as the ship was ready, that way. Not that the vessel wouldn’t have waited on them, if it were required. They had royalty going on the trip after all.

Still, it had been Princess Sweyn who had suggested getting there early, so the idea had been taken seriously. It was, Anders felt, probably more to do with her desire to get out from under Queen Maura’s attention than anything else. The older woman clearly meant well, however. She was actually kind and not hard to deal with, at least in Anders’ experience.

That didn’t mean Sweyn wanted to lie in a bed all day, for the next four months. A thing that he couldn’t blame her for at all. It was in the books he’d read, and memorized, on the topic. A woman who was with child wasn’t ill and treating her as such could weaken her body and spirit, if done to a great level.

Women, at least if food was plentiful, benefited from regular activity and even from practicing magic, while in that state, it turned out. Anders had made a point to bring some sweet treats with them, as well as supplies for making a variety of dishes. It was the custom on a ship to mainly eat borgu, after all. The thin oat potage was, he’d been assured, not Sweyn’s favorite thing in the world. She could eat it, but it wasn’t what she enjoyed.

Which meant that he had enough food for fifty people with them. They didn’t have that many traveling, but making special fare for themselves and not the crew was unkind. This time though, he didn’t have enough for everyone, for the entire trip. The ship was simply too large for that.

He also had some gifts, even if that wasn’t the tradition when visiting in either of the lands he was going to. It was the Istlan custom and things could come up, such as festival days and all that. Having some items from his home would, he hoped, go over well that way. Plus, he’d gotten some extra candies and dried fruit in, for that purpose. Most people liked things like that and sharing it about would be seen as kind, without being too aggressive about it. At least he hoped that was the case.

At the dock, which he had to walk down the line to reach, with Depak and Hoatha following behind him, being curious people, just like he was, he saw the fine men, each in a nice blue uniform, coming down the gangplank.

They were men with dusky skin, each having dark hair and the one of the five in front, the Captain most likely, having piercing brown eyes and a strong nose that lent his lean and wrinkled face an air of command.

“I am Captain Fornath, of the Sea Otter. Are you those we are slated to carry to the southern lands?”

Interestingly, the man was speaking decently good, if slightly accented, Istlan. Anders moved forward and bowed, using first courtly.

“I’m Anders Brolly. I do believe we’re the people you’re looking for. We understand that your vessel won’t be ready to leave for some days? We have things to load, at your pleasure, Captain Fornath. Some food, and other goods. Things that should keep for the voyage. Now, I should step out of the way and allow the people who are in charge to actually speak!” He smiled then, several of the men behind the Captain doing that back.

One of them spoke, in Modroc.

“I can’t understand a word that boy just said. That’s the middle Princess, Sweyn, back there. I saw her, a few years ago, in a parade. She’s over by Clarisse Sett! I can’t believe that. I didn’t know that we’d have anyone like that on this run!” Those words caused some murmuring among the men. It was pretty excited seeming.

Anders, grinning still, barked at them in their own language.

“Don’t get too excited, now. She’s traveling, not here to entertain you. For that you’ll have to put up with my simple juggling and poor attempts at music.”

The Captain, rather coolly, nodded at him.

Then spoke in Modroc.

“Too right, Anders Brolly. You’re in charge of the loading for your people?”

No one had mentioned that, but Depak nodded, standing behind him still.

“That’s correct, Captain. Anders Sona is responsible for most of the wagons, so it seems fair to have him aid with the rest of the luggage as well. My apprentice, in magic. I’m Depak Eta. This man is Hoatha Eta.”

The Captain went wide eyed and his face tightened.

“Of Barquea? You... rather killed my nephew then.” The man seemed upset by that idea.

Which meant that several other people suddenly started to gather, as the sailors, somewhat covertly, started to go for weapons. A thing that they wouldn’t survive, if they moved too quickly. Not because of Anders, either.

So he nodded.

“Yes. That war was unfortunate. To smooth things, as well as possible, your Sulat has seen to an alliance marriage. Eltha Tennet, the Great One of the Modroc, your High Mage, is to marry a man of Barquea. One of her own choosing, of course! Hoatha Sona is in the running for that. Also Prince Naveed, the heir to Barquea, so this is no small thing in the offing. She’s with us, here.” He turned, as both Duma Sett and Eltha strode over.

The men stared, but interestingly that was mainly at the Duma. Even if they were both in fine gowns. Real ones, not illusion covering plainer clothing, though both could do that as well. Anders was in plain black. Like a workman in his best clothing. It had been what he’d traveled in. That meant he looked fairly plain, compared to almost everyone else. Even the Modroc men with them were in fine brown vests of leather, for the trip.

When the ladies arrived, not bowing at all, the Captain made a hard face.

“I was unaware that we had a Great One of our own. You did little enough to protect my family in this last war.”

He’d selected the correct woman to accuse at least, glaring at poor Eltha over the whole thing. Clarisse spoke, her gaze a bit harsh seeming, given the Captain wasn’t being evil, merely showing he was in pain over the loss he’d suffered, as anyone might. He hadn’t even called Depak any names, as of yet, or refused to take them on the vessel over what had happened, even if it would be his right, as one in grief.

“Eltha was only named as our Great One in the past days. She has been under my tutelage, but also that of the Great One of Istlan, for some months, to learn. She is, perhaps, not ready for that title, but we have no one else to take that mantel, so she must serve as required. You might keep all that in mind, before blaming her for wars she had no way of fighting?”

The Captain sighed and then faked a smile.

“Of course. Forgive me, everyone. I was rude just then. War is hard for us all. Now, why don’t you all find a place to settle for some days? There are inns here, that are known to myself and my men. Perhaps a recommendation?” He looked back over his shoulder, at his own people. The one excited to see Duma Sett smiled then.

“The Prancing Pony has the best rooms and decent ale. The food is best at the Big Fish. That isn’t far, for either of them. With this many, you’ll need to stay at both, most like. We’ll be three, maybe four days, going back and forth to the goods warehouse, outside of town. Unless some of you would like to help with that?” It was clear that the fellow was jesting with them, on the last piece of things.

Depak gave a gentle bow in that direction.

“Again, Anders will see to that for us? To ease the burden on your men, Captain?”

That, oddly, got the man to smile. He clearly didn’t mean it, but he had stopped glaring at Depak.

“Good then. Brolly, is it? You can see to things. Let me summon the men for loading?”

That was done by one of the men in the back, blowing on a piercing whistle.

Then, slowly, everyone else walked off into the town, to find something to do while they waited on the ship.

Chapter four

The next days were interesting enough for Anders, really. A combination of daily work, loading wagons and then offloading them, which took some physical effort as well as organizing skills, since things had to be placed in the correct portion of the ship, along with evenings spent practicing magic.

Starting on the second day, most of the Modroc men joined him, in aiding in the loading. Which meant that, in a bit less than three days, the Sea Otter was ready to move out. The men had been baffled when the passengers actually did part of the work needed, and were even more shocked that the ladies, some of them, had been put to work as well.

Especially Eltha.

She got the idea, once explained. Princess Salina tried to whine about the work, a bit, but Lissa, the smallest one there, had just nodded at the effort needed. Accepting it when Anders finally explained himself, after the work was finished and they were underway.

Sitting on the deck of the rather nice ship, the sails filling with air, in the correct direction, for the time being.

“As Great Ones, you all need to know how a ship like this works. Military vessels as well. Probably pirate craft, as well. So, when not practicing magic, or memorizing texts, you should all stand ready to learn about things like this. What is required of different workmen, how hard their tasks are and the special problems that might arise. We should see if the Captain will assign a man to teach us how to navigate.” He meant that one, even though only Lissa nodded.

Eltha scowled at him, though it was clear to him, from the sense coming off of her, that she didn’t mean it.

“Modroc doesn’t have a Great One. This fiction is... A bit much, don’t you think, Anders?”

He snorted and Princess Salina shook her head at Eltha.

“That isn’t true now, is it? They have you. No one asked you if it was what you wanted, but I hear that’s how this kind of thing always works. Even with Grandfather Depak, it was such. Prince Anders makes a jest about you being the next Great One, then you’re thrown into work, without having a choice at all. At least he hasn’t insisted that I get married to anyone, yet.”

Lissa, being helpful as she was, simply nodded at the words, as if that was how it really did work.

“So it seems. On the good side, he hasn’t taken to beating us with his new stick, yet. I was afraid of that, for a few days, let me assure you! Why else have such a thing?”

Everyone looked at him then, as if they didn’t get the idea. To him it was painfully obvious.

“People can shut off magic now. In small areas, but they can do it. Salina taught me a lesson the other day, about that. All of us can do that, at very close range, and if ten people know a skill, we have to assume that hundreds will have that down shortly enough. So, we all need to be armed, at least well enough to stop an attack while we get away. So, I carry a stick now.”

Everyone looked at him strangely, but no one asked for a stick of their own. Even Lissa didn’t have hers with her, at the moment. It was a mistake, but the kind of thing one had to learn on their own, most likely. Still, he looked at Salina and shrugged.

She wrinkled her nose and seemed ready to argue some point or another.

He didn’t let her.

“You’ve been at war.” He didn’t add anything, or say it with any other meaning or even inflection. It was just a comment. A truth, without weight, or any kind of order being behind it.

That meant she stiffened, but then, after a moment, nodded.

“I have. I’ll see if I can find a weapon, then. It wasn’t a problem, at the front, but as you said, people can turn magic off. Princess Sweyn is the best at it so far, as well, so we have to imagine she’ll set up a force of people that can do that, for her own people. Are you doing that for Barquea, Prince Anders?”

He shook his head.

“That would be up to their Great One, I’d have to think. I’m just some Prince. I need to see to...” He stopped then, and grinned, trying to be playful about the whole thing. “What does that sort do, anyway? Study and help the people?” It was close to what he’d seen from that kind of person, so far.

That had been Naveed and Nedros. They were both in the top ten as for being in line for the throne.

Salina smirked.

“Not if you’re going to do it correctly. You should be off bedding women and eating sweets. Perhaps doing some light hunting, which is normally an excuse for a pleasure trip, not an actual effort to get food in for anyone.”

The words got a nod, from Princess Lissa and a half-hidden smile from Eltha.

Anders wrinkled his nose. Hopefully in a cute way.

“That sounds... Boring. Anyway, we should probably find a swab and see to cleaning the deck here, if we aren’t going to be practicing magic. Though, we could do it that way, if you’d all prefer?”

That was the plan, once mentioned. They used sea water for it, but had to create spells to scrub the deck, and then dry it. Anders insisted that they keep it dry, except in the small areas they were cleaning. It took hours, and he did his own portion of the work, even if all the women were stronger in magic than he was. After a while, one of the men in a fine blue uniform walked up, and watched them work, for a while.

Modroc might have been light on magic users, but they didn’t have the fear of that sort of thing that those of Istlan traditionally held to, it seemed. After a few minutes, the man gave a nod.

“Can you see to the interior passageways, as well? You’ll have to carry the water in and take it away. We have buckets for that?” It was funny, the way the man spoke the words.

Which didn’t keep Eltha from glaring and crossing her arms, and Salina actually stiffening and clenching her fist, ready to throw a fit over the mild suggestion. As if that wasn’t what they’d been going to do next anyway.

Princess Lissa just nodded, then spoke in the language of Modroc.

“As soon as we finish here, sir?”

The man gave her a firm nod.

“Exactly so, miss. Finish the task at hand first. Are you four just doing cleaning for the trip? They’d mentioned having servants along, but...”

He waved, at the four-foot section of the deck frothing and bubbling, in a tight swirling fashion that worked well to get things clean. Not that it was dirty at all. That wasn’t the point.

Anders nodded.

“Whatever work you have need of. We should also learn to navigate and control the ship. That and produce winds in the direction of travel. Everyone here can do that. Some others as well, but we’ll have to take turns. I’m...” He looked at the man and shook his head a bit. “The Captain might not want that? He seemed very sad, about his poor nephew who died in the war.” He looked down and tried to seem upset over it.

He didn’t feel it, but Salina seemed to. Then, she’d seen a lot of death, first hand.

She also wasn’t a monster.

The other man nodded, but waved at the deck again.

“I’ll ask after such things?” The man looked at Eltha then, and winked. “Clarisse Sett is on the boat... It would be wrong to beg for a performance, wouldn’t it? This man here mentioned some juggling and music?”

Eltha winked back.

“Oh, you couldn’t afford a performance from her. Not at all. Even my efforts would be too pricy for entertainment here. We might be able to have Anders here do something small for us, though? Say, in three days? I’m sure it won’t be that noteworthy, but we don’t have to pay him, so it might be worth attending?”

For once everyone else just nodded along, instead of seeming like she was teasing him.

Anders held up a finger.

“We can do it twice? So that the whole crew can watch. The trip before last, when I did a small entertainment, nearly had those who didn’t get to see it going into mutiny over the fact.” He grinned. “A ship that had been taken by pirates. They’ve turned to honest work now. Which has nothing to do with my show, of course. They were already doing that, at the time.”

That was all true, but held more of a story to the whole thing.

Only the crewman, probably the first mate, from the gold-colored stripe down his right arm on the front of it, agreed with his take on things.

“That’s a real thing, on a ship like this. Good thinking, Anders. I call you that, or is that rude? I’m Fred. The First here, under Captain Farnath. You can call me that, or First, if you want.”

“I’m Anders Brolly. Anders, like you said. This is Apprentice Lissa and Apprentice Salina. You’re from Modroc, so Eltha Tennet should be called Great One, of course. It’s a new title there, but a real one.”

Salina frowned.

“So, I don’t get to be Princess Salina any longer? Just Apprentice? Not even Apprentice Great One?”

He nodded, his face blank.

“Exactly. No apprentice gets a fancy title. It could give them a big head, so is never done that way. Besides, here on the ship, everyone needs to know that the Captain is in charge, not some noble person with a title and no knowledge of how not to drown us all.”

There was the start of a frown from the lovely dark eyed woman, then she stopped and nodded.

“You know, I was going to whine about that, but it rather makes sense, doesn’t it? I certainly wouldn’t want me to be in charge out here, at least. I’d just get us lost and we’d all starve. I don’t even know how to fish.” She glanced at the water, over the side then.

Anders nodded.

“You can do that tomorrow? I’ll show you how. If you catch them, Lissa and I will clean them for you. That’s the gross part.”

Lissa wrinkled her nose then, shuddered a bit and then cleared her throat.

“That sounds horrible.”

Laughing a bit, the First waved and walked off, leaving them to do their work. It meant finding some buckets, after a while, which Lissa did for them. That got them two crewmen, who carried the things, filled with salt water, and carrying swabs that they didn’t need. Still, the men both watched, a bit wide eyed and called out suggestions for what to do next, when they were done.

That included cleaning the dining rooms, which were large and had fine multi colored linens on the table. Those needed to be tended to however, having stains in places. They were all clean, however, which was impressive for being at sea.

They got a break for the meal, which, interestingly, was taken with the Captain himself, as well as his First Mate, Fred. They, the four who had been working were there at the large table, with Prince Erold, Princess Sweyn and of course, Clarisse Sett. Also, and a bit surprisingly, Depak and Hoatha.

The Captain didn’t look at either man a lot, but he was clearly trying not to be harsh with them. Even if he was holding them in low repute. Anders had seen worse responses in similar situations, so didn’t try to smooth things over at all. It wasn’t going to work, unless he used magic for it and the truth was, he didn’t know how to do that, yet.

Fornath bowed, after a fashion, toward Sweyn, and then everyone else. Depak was last in that, but technically that wasn’t incorrect, Anders realized. To him being a Prince was still a fiction, of course, and Depak Sona was a powerful and important former King and the current Great One of Barquea.

Everyone else, except Hoatha, was a current noble, or in Eltha’s case, the Great One of their own land, so she needed to be addressed first. That had happened, and mainly in the correct order. Even doing Ganges right before Depak was correct, given he was more aged and possibly going to marry Eltha.

True, Clarisse Sett had been acknowledged before anyone else, but that was clearly due to her personal fame. A thing that Anders hadn’t really thought of at all. He’d seen her do some small illusions, and imagined that she practiced each day, but the true talent she held wasn’t a thing he’d ever even heard of. She was, apparently, well known for it, among her own people. Enough that she was recognized in passing, even.

The Captain gave a polite smile and then looked at Eltha.

“My First mentioned that you had these others working already? Cleaning the decks for us? Also, that you requested lessons in ship management and control?” He didn’t seem upset by the idea, just being curious, since it was probably a bit odd to ask after on a passenger vessel.

Eltha nodded, seeming very proper and serious.

“Indeed. Dumo Anders is rather pressing us to learn such things, in case it comes up later, in our capacity as Great Ones for our various lands. So that, if need arises, we don’t send people into danger, not knowing how they do what they do and all that? On the nice side, we do get to do that with magic, so far.”

The man was clever enough that he turned to Salina, and then Lissa, in turn.

“You’re all Great Ones?”

Salina shook her head.

“No? Lissa and I are only apprentices to that position. Hence having to work constantly. It’s a bit different than how I was raised, I think it’s fair to share. Still, it was pointed out to me earlier that, if the need arose, the best I could do was lead a craft like this to its doom, knowing only what I do right now. I’m not even sure which direction land is in, to be honest.”

Anders smiled at her.

“Seek that, with your mind. Then point.” It was an order, but he spoke softly.

It didn’t take her long at all. Lissa and Eltha did it at the same time. Lissa did it first and never closed her eyes. That had Depak smiling at her rather fondly.

The Captain clapped.

“You’re wizards, too? Amazing! No wonder you were named as Great One, Miss Tennet. Fred, will you go over navigation and leadership for them? For... Anders Brolly, as well? I...” He shook his head then. “Forgive me, Prince Brolly, but I haven’t truly worked out your place here, as of yet. Goods master and...”

Hoatha smiled then, for nearly the first time.

“Anders Brolly is many things, in his own land. Primarily the Headmaster of their grand magical college. That’s new, and not set to truly open for most of a decade. A title earned though, in the war against Yanse. He’s also a fletcher and bow maker, if I understand correctly?” He looked at Depak, who nodded.

“Indeed. He made my horn bow for me, in fact. He’s also a competent jeweler and better than that at making clothing. His cloaks are rather famous, in Istlan, in fact.”

The Captain nodded.

“Ah? All of that and I still can’t say I understand how to treat you! Do I put you to work, learning to guide a ship, or do I feed you sweets and avoid you, as much as possible?”

The words would have been rude in Istlan, if spoken to a prince and Erold seemed ready to snap at the man over them, but Anders knew that part of that was just the difference in how languages hit the ear. They weren’t meant as rude or abrupt, they just seemed that way, to a man of Istlan.

“The first one? I brought sweets with us, so I won’t need that kind of thing, most likely. Though Eltha is having me do a small show, in a few days? I need to actually plan that out, if I can. There are improvements needed in my work, I fear.”

The words had Clarisse nodding in his direction.

“Don’t we all need to do such? I look forward to seeing your efforts, myself. I agree though, you should all see to learning how to guide a ship like this one. Depak, dear, you mentioned that they can also learn to use the winds to aid us on our way?”

The bald man nodded.

“Yes! Anders should go first. That suggestion you had before, of tying the winds to the wheel, so that the ship will always flow in the correct direction? You’ve done that before, but perhaps you could show these others and take the first duty, tonight? If you don’t have to wake early, to prepare food for us?”

That started to come just then, slightly before being spoken about, and from what he could see, all of it was fine enough, if not truly what he’d figured on eating. The dishes were made of things he’d brought, in the main, he was certain. All of it was different than what he would have made, however.

It was, truly, like a strange, very well seasoned, version of Barquean food. The dishes had more hot spices in them, which were things that he hadn’t purchased at all. Peppers and the like. Darker things that added savor to the food as well. All of it was good, however, so, when they were finished, he simply gave Depak a look.

“I doubt that they need me in the galley, to be honest. That was good. I can see to the winds now, if you desire, Captain? The breeze is nice, though we can strengthen it, and as mentioned, give whoever is in control of the ship command of them, if you wish it done?”

The man stood, suddenly and with vigor, ignoring the soft rocking of the deck below him. So far no one had been getting sick due to the motion, at least. If they had, they’d been silent on the matter, at any rate. The older man, his weathered features seeming pleasant, walked quickly to the top deck, near the back, where the wheel was. Everyone at the meal had followed along, including Duma Sett.

So Anders nodded at her, directly.

“You know basic magician spell work, don’t you Duma?” He glanced at Eltha then. “It was your task to see to that, while we were in Istlan, so if she didn’t have that instruction we all get to mock you for the rest of the trip while she learns.” He tried to seem almost angry at her. A thing that worked surprisingly well in Modroc.

She actually frowned back at him.

“Of course I taught her. Daily. She’s at the same level I am. Perhaps better in some ways.”

He let his face light up then.

“Excellent. I’ll go over the basic spell. Duma, you’ll take over in the morning, after the first meal? Then Prince Erold, Apprentice Lissa and... Princess Sweyn.” That last one was almost mean of him to add, since she was rather weak in magic. She could do the spell though and a few hours of heavy breathing shouldn’t hurt the baby at all.

That last one had the woman sticking her tongue out at him, as if annoyed at his antics.

“Fine. We can spend an hour barely moving, before everyone gets frustrated with that and someone else takes over.”

He nodded, and narrowed his eyes.

“Two hours. You can do it. Now, everyone, pay attention.”

The spell took a while to perform, since he wasn’t just calling the winds, he was directing them to only fill the sails and hit the ship, and how they needed to guide with the wheel, constantly. He tried to make certain that not even a wisp of the wind would be wasted, since it was his personal energy powering the whole thing. The better the spell crafting, the less power it took to make it work.

“Fen ot.” On the last word, the spell came into being, the wind blowing with nice power into the sails above.

The Captain nodded.

“This will hold? How long?”

“Until I say the last word of the spell. It’s a useful trick, really. Well, or until I die, of course.”

Depak Sona nodded, then looked up at the sails, as the five sheets barely moved or flapped, the winds being so constant and certain.

“You didn’t add in a way for the man at the wheel to increase or decrease the speed of the winds?”

Anders had a choice then. One of those was to glare at the man, for making unreasonable demands. The other was to simply admit that he didn’t have a way to do that yet. Even if it was an interesting idea.

“On my next turn? I have nothing for that, yet. Let me think on the idea for a while.”

“See to that. Now, we should all see to getting some sleep, if possible? That or other light tasks.” Depak strode away, making his escape from the groans that came then.

Anders was kind of tired, so nodded at the idea, for himself.

“That’s a good idea. I need to be up early anyway.” So that he could plan what his entertainment was going to be. Everyone had been underselling it, so far, but he truly did need to improve what he was doing, if he was being asked in to perform for the Sulat and his family. His previous efforts, while possibly fine enough for a boy, weren’t what he wanted to be known for.

Truly, what he wanted was to take the audience to a different land, one of his creation, filled with objects that looked and felt real, and beings that could pass as actually existing, in a way that was so perfect, no one could tell it was illusion.

Except for the music and other sounds that surrounded them.

At the moment, that was totally outside of what he could hope to manage. He had a few days to get better though, so, rather than go straight to sleep, he went to find his cabin, which was being shared with Depak, Brenner and Sondra. Having an attractive woman in there seemed a bit off, to Anders, but she explained, before anyone could ask after the idea.

“It was Sweyn’s idea. We had an odd woman out, so she put me in here, with the good men, who will at least marry me if they get me pregnant. That means you’re not getting to play, Brenner. You have orders not to marry on this trip. Dumo Depak is out as well, so I just crawl in with you, Anders?” She oddly enough seemed to be saying that as a serious thing.

As if the flat cots they had were big enough for two. Plus, there were four in the room with them.

“Perhaps later, if we find a place with actual beds? Not that I didn’t get the rest of the teasing there. I might just take you up on that though, if you keep it up. Just to warn you.” That probably wouldn’t be happening, but she reached out and touched his shoulder, then gave it a squeeze.

“All right. Later. I won’t forget you said that.”

Then all the men had to leave, so she could change for the night, and then that part was reversed. It made it all take twice as long, but propriety, what they could rescue of that sort of thing, needed to be maintained. The woman was cute. It occurred to him that she was also a spy. One that Sweyn had put in with him, for some reason.

Also with Depak Sona. Dumo Depak, as she’d called him. That was just the male form of duma, and meant something like master, or possibly master teacher. So it was very polite, and showed that Sondra at least, was thinking of him in that type of a role, not as the killer of those from her land. Possibly that too, of course. It was, unfortunately, true.

War required that kind of thing of people.

Instead of dwelling on that, or the sound of others breathing, Anders used the time before sleep to plan out what he wanted people to see. A land that would form on all sides of them, with music in the distance, and birds in the sky. Running water, as well. It needed to be small, and close to him, or it would be too tasking by far.

There needed to be a story, as well. One that was acted out, in the center of the space, so that everyone could watch it. It would limit the audience size, of course. Then, each part of the whole vision had to be given a scent, and made to be touched.

He felt overwhelmed, at first, as he tried to hold everything that would be needed. Finally, he dropped into the hall of memory inside his mind, created a new side tunnel, and then, carefully, placed each plant, bird, tree and creature he wanted into it, each being given a name and a number, so that he could simply call up a group of things rapidly. Each was different from the others, of course. He wasn’t even close to finished when he finally let himself sleep. He woke at five bells, getting himself up, cleaned and dressed for the day.

Even though most wouldn’t be getting up for several hours. Then he sat on the deck, his legs crossed like a tailor, in the strong breeze. The one he was creating. He kept at it until he heard a voice.

“Hey, boy... Time to break your fast. You don’t want to miss that.” A hand shook his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to find a man in a beige shirt and trousers, with sandals on his feet, standing there. One of the crew. An older man, who wasn’t smiling or seeming teasing about whatever Anders had been getting up to.

“Thanks be unto you, sir. I’ll go and see to that directly.”

The words had the man backing away, so that standing was possible.

“I know I hate sleeping through meals. This is a good enough place to nap, I suppose.” It was clear that the man didn’t get that idea at all, but was being tolerant of the stranger.

“I was working on the show I’m to give in a few days. Memorizing different factors I need for it. My goal is for something better than what I’ve done in the past, so it’s taking some work. Even if that work looks a lot like a nap.”

The man seemed considering, instead of doubting, at least.

“Heh. That’s new then. We’re making good time so far this trip, so don’t take too long getting that ready? I’ll want to see that. I heard you were doing juggling and going to sing?”

Anders stood then, a bit unsteady, from sitting on the hard wood. His right leg had fallen asleep on him. That meant limping, as he walked. Then doing more of that, when his foot turned to needles that he felt as bright sparkles, for some reason. Blue and white ones that glowed. Only they weren’t visible at all. It was, he figured an artifact of having been in a fairly deep memory trance for several hours.

“It should, I hope, be a bit different than that. For one thing, I don’t really sing well, so... You get me on that, right? I have to press into other things. Reciting stories and things like that?”

The sound he got was considering.

“That sounds fun then! Captain said that we might get to see it, if you actually do anything. Entertainment is always prized out here. You ever been on a boat before?”

“Oh, certainly. I traveled to Barquea, last year. On the Leopard going out, and then the Limpet on the way back.”

The man gave him a funny look then.

“Enna’s Leopard?”

“That’s the one.”

The man stopped and shook his head. He didn’t tense up, at least.

“They battled two pirate ships at the same time and took them, in fair combat. You heard that? I was never certain what really happened there. Enna collected the bounties on Mad Barta, so that’s true enough. Word is he credited some insane war mage for that, directly. A giant that shot a single arrow two miles, that froze her entire crew to death in an instant. I figure that he got her into bed, then slit her throat, myself. Enna isn’t a bad looking man. Only... He’s the kind that does for other men, you know? Still, Barta... She wasn’t right. Did you get that story from Enna, directly, by chance? Or his men, I mean. Why would you be talking to a Captain, right?”

Anders chuckled a bit.

“You know, that didn’t come up very often. I don’t think I can add to that story, really. Not without making things up.” It sounded like someone had already done that part for him, actually.

The other man acted as if that, his not knowing, simply made perfect sense.

Chapter five

Anders had to fight to gain enough time to work on his small entertainment each day. The Captain had the First giving them lessons on navigation, first thing, as well as ocean currents. That last was a thing that he’d encountered before, but had never really considered. There were complete areas of the world, where, if you took your boat, you were going to end up going to a specific place. Eventually. At least if you didn’t have magical winds to push you in another direction, or great luck was with you.

That took about an hour each day, since Anders insisted that they memorize the lessons being given. After that, he took a bit of exercise, pulling his bow three hundred times, with a single arrow nocked and playing at swords and blades using sticks, with Erold.

The rest of the time, as far as anyone else could tell, he sat, either on the deck, or in his sleeping space, focused on designing the illusion he wanted to share. Linking it to words and phrases, so he could bring the things alive, without being as desperately lost in the attempt as he felt he should be.

In secret, he practiced, working in the space that the Captain used for such things, which was the large dining room. Not the one he ate in, but the one the men of the ship used. There were tables and benches, each fixed in place, which was good for stability, if not great for the angle of the show. Twice he had to change his plans to fit what already existed.

Still, on the fourth day of the trip, in the evening, he went to the room at the appointed time, to find it already filling up. With men from Modroc, as well as people who were traveling with him, all desperately hoping for some sort of distraction. Ship life wasn’t thrilling, most of the time, after all.

He moved to the front of the space, dressed in lightly glowing green robes. On seeing that, the light bit of decoration, the ship men clapped. A few called out, as if that, his outfit, was what he’d called them together to see.

Which was pleasant of them. Much better than if they’d all sat in stony silence, at least.

“Nothing you are about to see, hear, or feel, is real. It is illusion only. Keep that in mind.” He spoke in Modroc, since everyone in the room had that language down well enough. Then, after taking a pause for affect, he started to mutter, softly.

It took about half a minute for something of note to seem to happen. The room dimmed, moving toward a foggy gray. One that couldn’t be seen through at all. Then, about fifteen seconds later, that impenetrable mist lifted.

Showing another world, entirely.

The men and women sat, nestled amongst fragrant plants, with a small grass filled clearing toward the area of the room he was standing in. No walls were visible and the world felt stable, instead of rocking in time with the ship as it moved. The grass bent underfoot as he stood on it, and the hard wood floor felt correct under his shoes.

Duma Sett, with broad leaf plants that didn’t exist anywhere in reality all around her, batted at one, and took a deep breath when it moved away from her. She tapped and then grabbed it, which started everyone else there to doing the same things. Anders felt the drain on his personal energy as that took place, since each point of contact needed to be resisted, but he wasn’t gasping for breath just yet.

He gave everyone a moment to play with their surroundings. People started to smell the flowers, each type of large red, yellow and gold creation having a different scent. To be cute, the red ones smelled like a berry pie, instead of a real flower. One of the men picked one of those and gave a soft yell when he brought it around, holding it up.

“This is real?” He sounded amazed.

Anders spoke, fighting a need to breathe too hard that was already forming.

“A seeming, only. Now... For our story.”

That part was the real work of the event. Five creatures appeared, from behind the men and women on the benches. Each of them was different, and a creature of legend, or at least his take on such a thing. There was a giant half horse, half man, with a muscular bare chest, for instance, as well as a woman in all black, who when her hood was thrown back had a face made of living stone.

Another of them, the lead character for the day, strode to the center of the room, his bat wings folding back, his body covered with fine hair, except for a leather cloth at his waist.

In a high-pitched voice, he spoke.

“Oh, how will I ever find love, being both man and bat?” He cast around, looking at everyone there and asking if they would have him as their betrothed. Everyone said no, as they were supposed to, until he got to Princess Salina.

“All right then. We’ll need to ask my father first, of course!” She sounded pleasant about it, so Anders worked that into the play going on, the bat man, Chavon, thrilled at her acceptance. That was quickly dashed, when the horse man rode up with a messenger from the Sula on his back, the letter informing her that she had other duties to attend to, before she could marry.

Seeming almost sad, she went back to her seat.

The scene changed, several times, as Chavon rather desperately sought a woman who could love one like him. Finally, he met a real bat, who out of respect for the aid he gave her family, transformed herself into a being like him, so that they could start a family together.

The story wasn’t that complex, but took half an hour to get through. Anders was barely able to stay upright by the end, gasping and trying to hide that he was doing that. He was also drenched with sweat. As the room faded to a foggy gray again, the music he’d been keeping up, very lightly, in the background, faded.

Then, having brought a bucket in, he caused the moisture from his body to leave him and fly in a thin stream toward that receptacle. At least he hoped his aim was correct on that. It wasn’t far from him, but he couldn’t see a thing for some seconds.

Then, when that lifted, everyone was back in the large dining hall, which after seeing some of the illusions, seemed tiny, compared to the grand things that had seemed to be there. He had a little speech worked out for the ending, and started to give it, when the screaming and carrying on started.

Both Eltha and Duma Sett ran at him, with enough vigor he wondered for a moment if he was about to get a thrashing. Thankfully they were kinder than that and gave him some hugs. Strangely, the Captain did the same, with tears in his eyes.

“I have never seen the like! I’d thought that, perhaps, you might do something more than juggle, but this...”

Duma Sett nodded.

“You outdid yourself, Dumo Brolly. Why, I barely have any complaints at all...” She grinned at the words, and Anders knew that she was teasing, but he nodded at her.

“We can go over those? This was a bit fanciful, perhaps? I wasn’t certain about that part of things. I could make the players seem more human?”

Eltha snorted at him and shook her head.

“No? This was perfect, really. You should also do something plainer, a single person or one of your characters from your play here, standing alone? That and some of the plants and flowers. If you show this in public you’ll likely end up being kidnapped and taken away to be the personal illusionist of some noble woman. Not that I could blame her for that. Everything was... Real. I mean, I taught you how to do illusions and I wouldn’t have been able to tell I wasn’t actually in a magical realm if you hadn’t warned us first.” She gave him a sour look then. “This rather changes what I need to do, for my own events, doesn’t it, Duma Sett?”

That got a soft laugh.

“Myself as well! I can get your aid on that, Dumo Brolly? I have the basics, thankfully, so I won’t be totally lost...”

Others came up to him, but the ship men left the room, after a bit. A thing that made sense, given he needed to repeat the show, shortly. He was a bit tired from the first performance, but the second went as well. Only about a third of the people stayed to see it again. It was different, since Salina’s part wasn’t in it, even though she stayed in the room to see it a second time.

Instead, one of the men from the ship got to ride the half-horse man around for a bit, as his fellows called out crude suggestions for what riding a man like that could mean. It really wasn’t polite at all. Also, thankfully, not the nature of the show, though the man-horse did shake a large fist at the ones calling things out, and used a few choice words, which got some laughter from the watchers.

When it was over, things were a bit more casual, as far as him being grabbed again. This time Princess Lissa moved over to him, and gave him a small hug. A thing that, oddly, reminded him of what Far had spoken to him about, that one time. That she liked him. Also, that she was, of all the women he knew, perhaps the best choice for him. To that end, he held her back, if only for a moment. It was the first time he’d done anything like that with her. Enough so that Salina noticed it happen.

She didn’t mock him over it, however, just nodding and looking away for a few moments, as if to give them space.

Lissa grinned.

“You should do this for the family, when we get back home.”

Salina snorted then and shook her head.

“That will have to be done carefully, sister. It’s one thing for him to entertain a few friends on a ship, were everyone is bored and lacking in comforts. Quite another to have a prince of Barquea dancing about and entertaining us in the palace of the Sula.” She moved in and patted Anders on the shoulder. “Not that you shouldn’t do it. Just that we need to make up a good reason for you to be engaging in such things. We can claim it’s for practice or something?”

Anders blinked, but slowly started to nod.

“Honestly, that’s not a poor idea. I need to knock the rough edges off of this, before I do it in public again, at any rate. Eltha mentioned doing some other things as well, so that will need to be seen to, I think.” He took a deep breath then and shook his head. “Not that I don’t need to focus on other things, for a few days. A review of all the magics I know, and the new ship work, for instance?”

That news didn’t seem popular. Probably because they both understood that if he was doing that, Anders would probably push everyone else to do the same thing. Which was a good idea, really. So far on the trip he’d spent most of his time with Lissa, Salina and Eltha. It was a tiny bit rude of him, since he hadn’t even asked after anyone else’s magical practices at all. Well, the one time with Duma Sett, but several others had been left without his attention that way at all.

A few days off wouldn’t destroy them as far as work went, but too much time could end up becoming a new habit.

He took the wooden bucket he’d borrowed and walked out of the room, emptying the thing over the side, on the top deck. It wasn’t that much, even if he’d been soaked with sweat twice in the last hour. Then, for some time, he simply stood there, holding the bucket by its wooden handle, looking off to the sea. The sails were well filled with wind, being powered, he thought, by Prince Erold, at the moment. A thing that reminded him to come up with a way for the man at the wheel to control the flow of the winds. Which he really didn’t have a way to do.

There was a wheel that turned already, and it was clear that using something like that, a physical mechanism that moved, was the way to control the speed of the winds for the spell. They simply didn’t have anything else on the top deck that would work for that. It was a real puzzle, if one that he understood could have many answers.

Setting the bucket back in its supply closet, Anders thought about what would be needed that way, if he were the one steering the ship. It wasn’t that hard to come up with something, really, once he imagined himself in place. The man, or woman he supposed, at the wheel, holding it, could call out words, to change parts of the spell. It was going to be complex, but not brutally so.

He planned that part out, reviewed a few things as he moved to ready for bed and slept well that night. In the morning, after the first meal, which was cooked meat of several types, along with a strange but tasty grain that wasn’t borgu at all, he moved to the top deck, to find Erold there, ready to redo the spell, if needed.

“Ah, good! No one else wanted to do it, and I wasn’t looking forward to running a spell this large for two days in a row. Which probably means I should be doing it, but...” He hunched a bit, as if mentioning that idea was going to doom him to having to do it.

Anders nodded.

“We could do that, but everyone should get a chance to take a turn. We don’t have any roads to build, for practice out here. We haven’t even done any fishing or collected any coin from the ocean yet, either. We should try that, today.” He meant fishing, but Prince Erold grinned suddenly.

“We should try that. Daren and Gull spoke of how plucking coins from the deep was close to torture. I’m sure that will be a popular enough game for everyone, given that. Who doesn’t like horrible pain and suffering?”

It really was hard. Then, so was taking fish, really. It was the distance involved and the time needed, to move things to you that made it hard, really. That and having the proper phrases to do the summoning needed.

“Agreed. Unpleasant, but useful to us. That sounds like a plan, then. Let me get this going, first.” He had to mutter and call words out for nearly ten minutes, and was still several minutes from the end, when Depak Sona moved into place, clearly having come to take his own turn at providing winds. Behind him was Princess Lissa, who seemed determined, for some reason.

As if she wasn’t going to allow the task to be stolen from her by a mere Great One, that day. A thing that Depak noticed, which had him smiling so hard Anders feared he might hurt his face, for a moment.

When he stopped his spell, everyone, including the Second Mate, who was at the wheel, stared at him.

“Fen ot...” He waited a beat then nodded. “Anyone holding the wheel can call out the word wind and a number, from one to five. If you let go of the wheel it goes back to one. Wind five might be a bit much.”

The man in all blue, who wasn’t old, being in his late second decade, so about nineteen or twenty, seemed interested in the idea. Then, he’d been steering the craft for days, with the wind tracking the movements, perfectly, so he was used to the basic idea.

“So, if I say, wind three?” The air picked up, enough that the masts creaked a bit under the new strain.

The fellow actually called out.

“Whooooo! With this, nothing on the high seas can match us! Not that we need to push this hard, really. What’s been done is amazing, already. Each day we’ve traveled nearly four times what we expected to. I go back to wind one?” The words were spoken casually, with a calm air, but did their job anyway, returning the pattern to normal, almost instantly.

Depak clapped, once.

“Very good, Anders. Now, what does everyone have planned for the day?”

He waved at Prince Erold.

“We have orders to pluck things from the ocean, for practice. I was also thinking a review of everything I know, for myself. That can be tedious, but you either keep things fresh or you start to lose them.” Which reminded him to go over some of the texts he had memorized as well, for the same reason.

Princess Lissa moved to walk away, but waited for everyone to follow her to the ladder, instead of wisely making her escape.

“That sounds right, even if it’s a bit hard, for a trip like this, having to practice everything. How do we take things from the water though? Also, what?”

Ander looked at her, since it was very obvious to him, but realized that her life had been very different than his own had been. They had plenty of food there for instance and regardless, she hadn’t been part of making that happen. In her world, that kind of thing was simply done for her even while traveling, food was always just... There.

Gold and silver a bit less so, since she’d had to ask after things like that, even being a princess.

“First, you’ll want to locate any sunken treasures. There are probably tens of thousands of the things in these waters. Ships don’t often sink, but when they do, they lose things like that and time is a long thing. Then you’ll need a name for each kind of coin or gem you wish to recover, and a way to break open locks. Metal and wood, for that. Then phrases to limit how much you try to move at once, since it can be a bit hard to do that at a distance. You’re strong, but still only one person, so keep that in mind.”

He smiled at her after saying all of that.

“You probably have most of that already, of course.”

The girl tilted her head then.

“I have a word for gold and silver, but not for coins. No gems, either. It just never came up. Is there really a treasure near? That sounds unlikely.”

Anders closed his eyes, not knowing the answer at all. Even he was a bit surprised at what he found.

“There are at least seven, inside a fairly easy summoning distance of here. We’re moving at good speed, so you’ll want to pick one and learn those phrases. We should get with everyone else and have them set that up as well. We can... I don’t know, give the coin to the poor, or something? Use it to make some art, first?”

It took longer for them to find the others than for everyone to lock on to the treasure they wanted to try working on. Lissa was the first one to actually have a small pile of gold coins at her feet, as she sat on the deck of the ship, dressed in green robes. It was a bit artless, how she sat, but only because she was a princess. Salina tried to lounge to the side, but that was too uncomfortable to hold.

The task took up most of the day, and while Salina actually did a good job, once she got the hang of things, the clear winner was Princess Lissa. Prince Erold didn’t do poorly either, and Duma Sett and Eltha both at least matched him. Part of that was simply down to the fact that Lissa had, rather cleverly, taken on a treasure that was both large and in the direction they were headed.

So, as the day wore on, it kept getting easier for her to call things to herself. Even if she gasped and panted while doing so, not taking it easy at all.

Anders, Depak and Hoatha all simply fished. Martya came out and collected some lobsters from the sea bottom, for her part. In all, it was a good enough day spent doing things. Largely playing, really, since nothing was needed, in particular.

Everyone groaned at him that evening, when he started having them practice everything they knew how to do. Even Depak and Hoatha seemed slightly annoyed to be included in that part of the work. Sweyn did it easily enough, at least.

Well enough that Anders patted her on the shoulder, as she finished up, some hours later.

“Tomorrow we’ll work on fishing. You’ll need names for that.”

The pregnant woman sighed then.

“Fish, because it’s too hard to take coins for someone like me?”

He snorted, rudely, directly at her.

“No, fish, because we can eat them. You should learn to summon coins as well. Really, that’s a good plan. Then we can all work on making things with the metal and gems. Depak Sona will guide us through that part? He’s the best at such things, I think.” Certainly, better than Anders was.

There was a low level of grumbling about all the work they were doing, but only half of it was lacking in good natured fellow feeling. That part, oddly, was truly there, from some of them. Princess Lissa even moved off to help Sweyn work on her phrases for summoning, after mentioning that she needed to refine her own process that way.

Anders probably did too, he realized, once it was mentioned. He hadn’t taken much from the waters that day. Two fish, of fairly normal size. They’d eaten it and what the others had caught, for their late meal. It probably seemed a bit lazy, to the others. His internal excuse, having been commanding the winds to blow the whole time, didn’t mean that much, really.

He hadn’t wanted to sit all day, gasping in pain. Which meant that he needed to be doing that the next day, himself. Even if he didn’t need gold or riches, in particular.

Then, no one had complained about his plans for art or giving such things away to those in need, so far. To that end, he tried to work on ways to get things from a distance that would take less power to make happen. That idea occupied the rest of his evening, and a bit of the time he should have been using for sleeping. Not that there wasn’t plenty of rest had as well. It stayed dark long enough for that and there was no real reason for him to get up before first light. He did that, since it was his habit, but there was no real reason for it.

Which meant, since he pushed himself, that he had a tidy collection of gems and coins of his own to give away, by mid-day. Some of the men on the crew looked at it enviously, but unlike on the pirate ships, no one thought about slitting his throat or even cleverly stealing it from his room, later. It meant that, instead of stopping when he’d planned to, he redoubled his efforts, collecting even more, so that the men could have a nice bonus.

He was still keeping half, to play with, for a while.

The hard part was in getting the Captain alone, in his office, before the late meal. The coins, polished with magic, were in a piece of linen. That was one of the table cloths, meaning he was glared at for having taken it. The man didn’t scream at him over the idea, however, even before Anders untied the rough knot at the top. The whole thing was sitting on Fornath’s desk, and he goggled a bit when what was being held inside was revealed.

“A large treasure. I’d heard you and your friends were collecting such from the ocean’s waters, Anders. I didn’t think it would be this much.”

He chuckled a bit.

“It’s more than this. This is just the bonus for you and the men. I figured it would be best coming from you. I’m not trying to buy their loyalty, after all.” Which was true enough. They were men working a ship that he’d probably never encounter again.

The Captain was silent for a long while.

“This is too much. Not that I’m too proud to take it, but even as a gift it’s... I’ll need to give this out over several years, or else I’ll lose my crew, with them buying their own ships, instead of working the Sea Otter. This truly isn’t a hardship?” The man wanted the gold. He even, for a moment, considered keeping it for himself.

That was set aside, since it was for the men. A prize even then, of course. If it came from him, even with Brolly’s name mentioned as who gave it, he’d be purchasing the loyalty of his men for a decade or more. So would Anders, of course. Even if he was trying to be modest, in the moment.

“I have more, to give to the poor, when we make landfall. So do the others. I just didn’t want to leave our friends out. Now, I should... Find something to occupy myself.”

The Captain nodded at the words, his words seeming almost stern, when they came.

“We’re making port tonight, if the tide is with us. We made a month’s journey, one that can take three times that if there are no winds, in mere days. We’ll even get the evening breeze to take us in, so this entire journey has been blessed. Now, I can portion part of this out to the men, to waste in dock? Not too much. I wasn’t joking about not handing all of this out at one time. We’ll lose half the crew if we do that!”

Anders bowed then, using first courtly.

“As you think best, Captain. Remember, some of that is for you as well. If that won’t give insult?”

There was a strange look, in return, but it wasn’t a glare. What the feeling that went with it was didn’t make a lot of sense, either. Not that Anders was reading his thoughts. No, he was merely looking at his face, which was still, and a bit stiff, with a light smile.

He left the office space, since people needed to get their things ready. His pack was prepared, but he had more than twice the coins with him now, making the thing almost too heavy for him to lift. True to his word, they made port no more than three hours later, the Sea Otter sliding into the dock well after true dark had fallen.

Interestingly, since there was no hurry, they were expected to stay on the ship that night, instead of finding an inn at the northern dock. That meant they could arrange carriages for travel the next day. They’d need those, for at least Sulana Meegan and Princess Sweyn. Duma Set and Lady Martya, as well. Hoatha could ride in the back of a wagon, of course. Normally Martya could as well, since she wasn’t some kind of fainting flower.

There were impressions to be made, and appearances to uphold, at the same time. Which meant that, if possible, he needed something special for Eltha to ride in, as well. A spectacle that was great enough that everyone seeing her would know that it was a truly grand and special day when Eltha Tennet came to see about getting married.

So, the next day, he headed out into the port town alone, with enough gold to purchase half of it, he thought. That, it turned out, was a good thing, since, while he could rent a dozen stout wagons, drivers and sturdy horses to pull them along, the carriages were much harder to come by. There were six of the things in the town, but four of them were so beaten up and decrepit that the man who owned them seemed ready to cry, on hearing who was there, needing their services. So, Anders bought them, wholesale and spent the morning repairing them. Thankfully he’d done enough work in wood that he was able to create something worthy enough. Then, since he owned those, he had to purchase the horses to pull them, and then hire several drivers.

When they pulled up at the docks, he felt that everything was well enough appointed, at least. His new carriages shone as if covered in gold and deep burgundy scrollwork. Three of them matched, with the fourth actually glowing, with a rather gaudy shifting pattern of color. He was willing to take that off, of course. It was too much, but he didn’t have a better idea for what to put Eltha in. When everyone came out, the ship men helping them to unload their bags and food, without being asked, Depak Sona moved over to him, smiling.

“Well, this will make a show. I suppose you plan to put me in that one, so everyone will know who to dun for favors and magics?” A tan finger pointed at the one shifting colors.

Anders chuckled.

“Not at all, Depak Sona. That’s for the Great One of Modroc and her teacher, Duma Sett. Then we put the princesses and Prince Erold in the next ones, with Sulana Meegan. You, Hoatha and Lady Martya after that, with some of the Modroc dignitaries behind you, and I’ll be in the back wagon, making sure nothing breaks down. Unless you want to ride with me, back there? We can push some of the remaining food over, if you wish?”

Depak smiled, and then nodded.

“Let’s do that second one? Really, we can dress like drivers and see if we can become invisible? That could be a worthy thing to practice, I’d have to think...”

Having seen how much the people there loved their Great One, Anders actually had to agree with the words.

Chapter six

Anders was crying, when they rode into Lo’usa Tet, several days later. The trip would have been quicker, except that Princess Salina and Princess Lissa had both hired people along the route to take gifts of food, useful goods and at times coin, directly to those who needed the most help.

He was weeping, with a smile on his face, since the girls had decided to tell everyone that it was a gift, from the Great One of the Modroc, Eltha Tennet. Also sending runners to explain how this woman of great power had come from another land to heal the rift between them, with her own body. That was a bit pointed, to Anders’ way of thinking, but the men and women who lined the streets to see her seemed to think that idea was not only grand, but a thing to literally cheer about.

They were almost to the palace complex, a thing that was larger by at least ten, if not twenty, times the rather grand place that King Matheus kept for himself, when a man on the side of the road pointed at Depak Sona, and called out.

“That’s the Great One! Depak Eta is in the last wagon!”

That had their rather plain wagon surrounded almost instantly, people who had politely let everyone else pass actually clambering and physically reaching out to touch poor Depak.

Sighing, he nodded, then muttered a few words, barely heard by Anders, his clothing shifting into a rather nicely decorated robe. It was one of his standard wear ones though, nothing made specially for the event. People acted as if that, a changing of an outfit, was a high magic, and called out, loudly.

“It is the Great One! He’s here!”

It was odd, but a few of the people seemed to be shouting that they were saved. Though, as far as he could tell, and Anders had checked several times per day, nothing so major was going on that anyone needed to be saved from it.

Their wagon, pulled by two nice brown ponies, didn’t have much in it. Some sweets in boxes, a bit of jewelry that Anders had been working on as they rode and their driver, who looked half panicked as they were cut off from the rest of the line they had traveled with.

“Great One... Can you heal my hand? A donkey kicked it, three days ago...” That was held out, showing that it not only had major bruising, and a cut on it that was infected, if lightly, but that at least a few bones had been broken as well. The man, an older fellow, with silver hair and a full beard, smelled a bit, from the heat of the day and a lack of regular washing. Anders could tell, because, for all he was trying to talk to Depak, his hand ended up almost in Anders’ lap.

“Nand indict, swerla, xeles, insana. Nisk soloa inna ot ona. Bolod soloa, fen.”

There was a soft sound, followed by a gasp, as the bruising and swelling faded and the bones fixed themselves. The skin sealed together, leaving a soft silver scar. He could have fixed that as well, but the man pulled back, and held his hand up for the world to see.

“The cart boy healed my hand! The Great One’s cart boy did it!”

The words got Depak to smile suddenly and nod.

“Yes! If you need healing, come to the cart boy!”

That meant they were busy for a while, mainly with healing, until a very elderly woman managed to move to Depak’s side, whispering something. Depak ducked his head then and said something back, then waved at Anders.

Speaking in Istlan.

“She has not eaten for five days, lacking funds...”

That, thankfully, was simple enough to start to fix. He kept his sweets and opened his small chest of coins, pulled a small handful and passed them to the woman.

“From Eltha Tennet, of the Modroc.”

They were taken, the lady seeming confused and a bit hesitant to accept the charity. Depak nodded, and smiled, openly.

“Yes, Eltha Tennet, the new Great One of the Modroc, who has come to prevent further conflict, by marrying a man of Barquea! Pass that to all who can hear! If they can’t, then the cart boy will come and aid them, in the next days, in the central market!”

It was an odd thing to say, and probably meant as a jest, since Depak did things like that, on occasion, but Anders could see the use in getting to practice. Besides, he was a Prince there, so it was probably one of his duties, given he had the ability to do that kind of thing. Though it would need to be done in secret, from the Sula. At least done in a humble fashion, so that Prince Naveed would know it was only about his studies and not him trying to impress people, in order to gain in station there.

“From dawn to mid-day, starting tomorrow?”

That had a call going up, even if it wasn’t too likely many would show up for him to practice on. Then, there was always someone around with a splinter or injured foot, if a person were willing to aid them.

It took three hours of healing right there and almost half the coins in the chest before things thinned enough to start moving. Depak had to hand out hugs and well wishes as well. Even Anders was given some of that duty, after a while. Not for being a prince, or even himself. Just because people found the cart boy useful to them, it seemed.

The whole time he claimed that it was Eltha Tennet who had given the gifts. He didn’t know if it would help anything, but it probably wouldn’t hurt. As they finally moved fast enough that they were actually making progress, he mentioned that to Depak.

The man laughed.

“Oh, it won’t hurt her, until the next visit, when she is surrounded on the road, like we were. It’s clever, you not mentioning your own name. You might even be able to do that healing in the market without being surrounded, if you hold to your current attire. I should have and told them that I just looked a bit like that Eta person, but I didn’t think of it until two hours into that mess back there.” The man was a bit grumpy seeming about it, but he covered that with a rueful grin.

Anders held to his current outfit, until they got inside the gates of the palace complex, which were closed behind them, to keep the parade of people who had followed them through the whole city, from flowing in along with them.

Then, a bit reluctantly, he transformed his clothing into rather proper robes. They were for visiting, so he picked a soft cream color, with subtle mint green embroidery on the front and the sleeves. Those were of birds and plants, and could only just be seen, if you weren’t too far away.

The wagon was directed to pull around, letting them out near a small collection of people. There were only five of them, which he understood, instantly. After all, they were hours later than everyone else. He sighed, as he hopped out, using a hand on the wagon to slow his descent a bit. The landing still hurt in the area between his legs, as he hit the smoothed stones.

Instead of grabbing himself, he pretended it didn’t ache and looked at Prince Naveed.

“Sorry about that. We were surrounded by a mob. They demanded healing and the attentions of Depak Sona, since it’s their given right, apparently?”

His weak jest got a polite chuckle. It deserved no more than that, after all.

“We were about to send the warriors out to save you all, when we heard that you were heading this way, finally. Don’t worry, we had word of your pending arrival, so just came back out. Everyone else got to have a proper greeting, and all you three get is me and these others.” Naveed nodded to the driver, which was kind of the man, really. A thing that Anders noted. Not everyone included the people doing the work in their attentions, after all.

One of the people there to greet them, who was about fifteen and a boy, dressed in a simple red set of trousers and a matching loose shirt, with sandals on his feet, waved. It seemed slightly annoyed, instead of welcoming.

“Oh, brother... there’s no need to make such a big production of things. These men wear the robes of magic users, but they can’t be that important, if they ride in a humble wagon like this. We should go in and see if a meal is being provided. That or look at that Modroc woman again? She was pretty enough, I suppose. I should try her in bed, and see if she’s worth bothering with as a wife? I hear that kind is willing to have relations with almost anyone. That’s a bit slatternly, isn’t it?”

Depak Sona, for what was probably only the second time Anders had ever seen it, including in battle, was suddenly enraged. He literally began to crackle with power over it. A thing that had Anders readying himself, in case they were going to have to flee, after murdering this boy.

Anders put together who he was, quickly enough.

“Prince Lassa, I take it?” He sounded fine, even if his friend had been a bit put down.

That, the words toward Eltha, were the real issue, of course. Even for Depak. After all, they’d ridden in the wagon so they wouldn’t seem too important, in the first place. The boy saying that simply meant their plan had, in part, worked. Depak Sona was many things, but vain to the point of anger wasn’t one of them. If the boy had found his robes lacking, the man might have been hurt a bit and tried harder the next time, but it wasn’t about looking impressive as much as the artistry of the thing.

So, Depak Sona was about to kill this boy for being improper in regards to Eltha.

“That’s right! Prince Lassa, fifty-ninth in line for the throne of Barquea. You may tremble now, being in my presence.” There was a nice pose, hands on hips and a gaze at the distance to go with the words.

It was a ridiculous thing to say, and would have made a wonderful jest, so Anders tilted his head, and smiled at Naveed, since he was as close to him as nearly anyone in Barquea.

Then he whispered.

“Is this one of those things where I don’t get the humor here? It sounds like that, but the customs are a bit different, from those of Istlan. I... don’t want to laugh, if it will seem like I’m mocking people.”

Naveed, seeming ready to do a bit of his own killing, if with a clenched fist, even though his frame was a third smaller than it had been even a year before, which indicated either a famine or a lot of magical effort in that time, and there was no hunger there, shook his head.

“Oh, no... Prince Dunderhead here just suggested that the Great One and the tenth in line for the throne of his own land shake in awe, due to his greatness. I think he honestly meant it, too. We should punish him for it, don’t you think, Prince Anders?”

Anders nodded.

“Ah! Very good. You’re a magician, Prince Lassa?”

That got a snort. Then a bit of a rueful look, at least.

“A poor one. I can do a few things. Summon a small flame or change the color of a piece of cloth, if I try hard enough, why?”

Anders smiled.

“Only because Prince Naveed and myself are about to chase you around, throwing water at you rather fiercely and knowing how to block that would make it more interesting. If you agree, Prince Naveed?”

He honestly figured that the older Prince was going to simply smile at him and suggest another, more adult, course of action. Instead, the man waved the others there away. Given that one was probably a princess, and the other two Sulana’s, making them Ander’s grandmothers, he quickly spoke a spell, and pointed at them, putting up a shield to cover them, as poor Lassa learned that his older brother had truly been practicing a lot, over the last year.

Anders barely got to do anything, as the younger prince was struck with arm sized streams of water that wrapped around the building, from well over ten paces away. It was hundreds of feet to the cistern on the roof, at the very least. Which was impressive.

Enough that he actually clapped, as Lassa was knocked to the ground, a steady stream hitting him in the face. Then he used his wizard sight to find where the fluid had come from and did the same thing. Cooling the water first, since it was warm enough that might well be refreshing to the Prince trying to roll away.

“Run, Prince Lassa! Be aware of what is coming and try to dodge!” Anders was probably making a lifelong enemy, but it was only fair to offer instruction to the boy.

After all, he was taking his own turn with the water just then and when it hit the boy screamed.

“Gah! Cold! Ahhhh!” It was a bit comical, but he did manage to flee and while he was hit a few more times, it actually was far more sporting, suddenly.

Enough that Naveed miscalculated and sent a line of water directly at one of the Sulana’s. That bounced off, never touching her, thankfully.

The older man stopped then, since his younger brother was almost out of sight.

Anders grinned.

“So, do you think that he’ll poison me... or try to stab me in my sleep for that?”

The woman, who was likely a Princess, if one that Anders had never met, covered her mouth with a delicate hand. She looked a bit like Javina, but was older by at least ten years. Given that, he supposed she might be a Sulana herself. He was going to need introductions.

“Oh, Lassa was being a bore and was schooled for it. He’ll complain to Father, who will probably mention how lucky he was that the Great One hadn’t decided to give him the lesson and he’ll give a half-hearted apology. That’s pretty much how he spends his days. Giving offense, then pretending to make up for it with weak words. Not that you heard that from me.”

The younger woman grinned at Anders then.

“I’m Liasa, his direct older sister. This is my body mother, Endeara and my side mother Opal. Pleased to meet you both. I missed doing that, last year when you were here. I saw your illusion entertainments. The one here and the one in the city. Are you planning to do something like that again?”

“Liasa!” That came from her body mother, Endeara. Anders tried to commit the name to memory, along with the face and that of the others there, as well.

Anders put his hands out to the sides, shoulder height and bowed.

“That is the plan. I have orders, from Princess Lissa, to aid in my practice that way. You’ll all attend and give me hints as to what would make the show better?”

Having calmed down, Depak did his own bowing.

“Indeed, Apprentice Great One Lissa did mention something to that end. As did Apprentice Great One Salina.”

Everyone just stared at him for a bit. Anders looked at Naveed.

“Yes. On that note, we should see the Sula, at his earliest convenience, since there have been a few changes, in the last year, that might not have made the missives home. We’ll need you for that, Prince Naveed. You as well, Princess Liasa?”

He had no clue where she was in the line for the throne, but had to bet it was higher than fifty-ninth. She was nicer than her brother at least, and Sula Darian would most likely find that to be a trait worth something, if nothing else.

She nodded.

“I don’t know what I can do for you, but if you need me for something, I’m glad to help, Prince Anders. Now, there are Apprentice Great Ones? More, they come from my own family? I’d heard that they were both doing well, as far as magic and had gone north, to train with you, but... That’s rather heady, isn’t it? Are they really that good?”

Finally, Depak smiled, seeming his normal self again.

“They are. We should, perhaps, not speak of it, until the Sula has been informed?”

Naveed, sighing, actually smiled.

“And here I was worried only that Prince Anders was going to usurp my position. Well, that’s the game, isn’t it? If others can do better, then they deserve the throne. I should curry favor with them now, do you think, Grandfather Depak?”

He started to speak, only to have Anders interrupt him, clearing his throat.

“It’s not over yet, Naveed. I’m still backing you for that job. You’ve been practicing magic, clearly. That and you have a lot of experience in the position. It’s about more than just having a few skills, after all. Not that Lissa isn’t worthy to be the leader as well.”

Naveed winced.

“Not the others?”

That got a shrug.

“It isn’t my decision, but Princess Salina is set to take over as the Great One of Barquea, when she’s ready. It makes sense to me that the Great One and the leader shouldn’t be the same person.”

Just like some foreign boy shouldn’t be the ruler, either. That part wasn’t spoken of out loud, however.

Naveed led them, all of them, including the older women, to a chamber deep inside the palace. It took a good fifteen minutes of walking to get there, and while there were guards on the portal, there was no actual door, that could be seen. Not even a hanging. Anyone standing there could look right into the chamber and see who was there, given that.

Which meant that Anders was seen and waved to by the Sula, rather directly.

The man even called out.

“Great One! Anders! We heard from the others that you were delayed. Is all well?”

Princess Liasa frowned then.

“There is an issue, already, Father. Prince Lassa insulted our guest, Eltha Tennet, then suggested that the Great One and Prince Anders must not be important, due to riding in a wagon. Then he suggested they tremble before him, since he was an important Prince here...” She fought a grin, then lost, after a few moments. “It really was nearly as bad as it sounds, Father. Prince Naveed and Prince Anders chased him around with magical rivers of water in the air, striking him while instructing him to flee. It was... Hilarious, to be honest. That isn’t the important portion, I take it? I wanted to get that out, so you know to be cross with him later, when he comes to complain about being soaked by these others. It really was more playful than anything else. Remind him that he can’t truly take offense at a mild prank like that? I will, too, but he can forget traditions are there for a reason, at times.”

Sula Darian closed his eyes and sighed.

“That boy... Sometimes... I was hoping that being put forward for a marriage might help him see the need to mature. Well, I’ll think of something for him. There was more? You hinted at that, Liasa.”

Depak bowed, so Anders did as well. Followed, interestingly enough, by Naveed.

Liasa seemed like she didn’t know if she should do that or not, but didn’t.

So Depak took over the speaking duties.

“Yes. Much has taken place, in the last half year, Darian. Princess Salina and Princess Lissa have both risen to the rank of Apprentice Great One. Salina has stood in several battles, aiding our friends in Istlan in that capacity, along with Prince Daren. Princess Lissa and Princess Javina both aided in constructing new roads, to aid in those endeavors, as well as studying magic most firmly, during their stay there. All of your daughters who traveled there did, in fact. They also raised inns, town buildings and a castle complex for Duke Lister, as a joint wedding present from both Barquea and Modroc. Princess Sweyn aided in both the design and some of the magical work on that as well, so it’s a real enough thing, claiming it is from both lands.”

It was clear Depak was planning on saying more and there was actually a lot to mention, but Darian, his brow furrowed, his regal face concerned, picked out one single point.

“Salina was in battle? Behind the lines, perhaps... Aiding with... Can she heal?”

Anders nodded.

“She can. She’s even decent at it. Lissa is better and Javina is as well, but Salina does fair work that way now. She wasn’t in the back, tending to the wounded during the battles, though she did some of that after. She was in the front lines, repelling our foes, rather ably. I’d claim that she was in no danger to make you feel better, but that would be a lie. She didn’t shirk from her duty, not even for a moment. There were real hardships on that campaign, and she met them with honor.”

Depak winced, as if Anders had been supposed to lie about it. To at least soften the idea, claiming that others had been there to back her up.

So he did that.

“Not that she was alone. Prince Erold stood beside her, as did Prince Daren and an able war mage from Istlan, Jeld Nardel. We placed Hoatha and Depak Sona behind the lines, since that wouldn’t have been fair. It truly wasn’t already with those four at the battle, to be honest. The important point here is that the apprentices need to be given some familiarity with military instruction. I was hoping that we could set them to working with a few different units and perhaps be given some command training? They won’t need to lead, but they need to learn what soldiers and that sort need to do their jobs.”

He was stared at for a moment, and then, slowly, the leader of Barquea, started to nod.

“Very well, Prince Anders. You may set that in motion, as you will. Do you have more to add here?”

He was silent for a moment.

“I do. I can write that out for you, if you wish? Prince Daren has been seeing to the schooling of a Castle Page from Yanse. Walden. Teaching him both magic and languages, as well as reading and other topics. Some of those Daren had to learn himself, first, for that task. Princess Lissa has seen to the training of over a dozen servants, in magic, as well. One of those, Alice Cook, is continuing in her practices, even past the initial training. Those others are... Decently able, after a fashion. Hard students to teach, since Istlan folk often fear magic, rather a lot, still.” He thought for a bit, and shrugged. “Javina aided many people in fashion at the court, as well. Indeed, when they speak of those of Barquea there, it is normally her name on their lips, and her favor they are attempting to curry. She also taught your Ambassador there, Spent, the language of Istlan.” That couldn’t have been easy or simple either, but she’d never complained about the task.

Naveed actually smiled.

“It’s amazing, Father. We should have them in with us at dinner this evening?”

The older man, lean and pleasant in aspect, bowed his head.

“A grand feast, for their return? Also so that Eltha Tennet might meet with you and Hoatha? I will withdraw Prince Lassa from consideration, since... well. That rather needs to be seen to. I know, Prince Anders, fix him for us, will you? You have leave to do what is needed, to that end. Try not to kill him, but... If you must, you have my backing.” The words were cold. Enough that the older women actually gasped.

Anders didn’t love the sound of it either, but could see the need for it.

“He can be placed in military training as well?”

The man simply waved a hand, as if saying that was fine.

“Now, you should repair and refresh yourselves, before the meal? Make what plans you might need, Prince Anders. Depak, if you would stay for some moments? Unless you have need to refresh yourself, after your long journey?”

That answer seemed to be no, meaning the rest of them were able to leave the room. The older women were split off, but Princess Liasa and Prince Naveed led Anders to his room. Which, interestingly enough, was the same one he’d been allowed to sleep in the year before. The others went in with him, his things already placed there. Including the sweets he’d brought to share.

“Right! I brought some treats from home, for everyone here to try. Candies and strange dried fruits. A few other things that I don’t think you have here? How do I get those to people?”

Those words had Naveed smiling.

“That is simple enough. We can hold a gathering, in a few days? I’ll get some local candies and sweet treats as well, for those visiting from afar? Then people can meet and mingle a bit, in a relaxed situation. There was also mention of a small show of some sort? Some of your Illusion work?”

Princess Liasa moved and touched Anders on the arm.

“Do that as a separate thing? Perhaps by select invitation, only? Then do one out in the city, that anyone might attend? I shouldn’t ask, but if no one mentions it, how will you know that people have been talking in the streets for a year about the last one?”

It would be hard, if not impossible to do the same show he’d done on the ship for a city’s worth of people. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make large, and realistic illusions and perhaps add in some pleasing scents, wind and so forth. It would take some careful planning, as well as better work with music than he’d done before. On the good side, for the people there, he could reuse a lot of what had worked before, on the boat.

Possibly with some new characters. Also, a smaller set of events, as Eltha had instructed him to see to.

“That should work. We can set up the one for in the city for... A few days from now? Depak already instructed me to go to the market in the mornings, to work on healing. If anyone wants that done. So, I shouldn’t over schedule myself at that time.” He looked at Prince Liasa then and tilted his head. “Which means that I can’t aid you with magics then. You’re good that way already, though?”

That got an almost angry expression, though she bothered to hide it fairly quickly.

“I’m not, no. I can do magic, but don’t really have the head for it, I fear.”

“We’ll set up Lissa to work with you on that then? You clearly have a good mind, so that isn’t the problem. It’s probably down to the way it was taught before, then. Or... No... Since you should be pretty good that way, would you be willing to have Princess Salina teach you? She’s actually not bad, and I think she can handle that sort of thing. It would be a favor to me, if you’d try that?”

For about a minute, she actually seemed to be trying to come up with a way to get out of it. If that was about her own sister being a pain at times, or simply because she didn’t want to do the work, Anders didn’t know. He also didn’t care. He was working to help Salina, not Liasa. Not yet, at least. The woman seemed nice enough, in a slightly pushy fashion, but that was all he really had on her so far.

Naveed grunted.

“I should see if Lissa will aid me then?” It was clear that he didn’t mean it, but Anders let himself perk up.

“Oh... That might work. You’re far more advanced than anyone else she’s worked with so far, so that would really mean pushing herself to keep up with what you need that way. Would you do that? I know you must be busy.”

The man rolled his eyes, but gave a nod.

“Why not? If nothing else, I can see if I need to report to Father about how she and not I, should be put in the first position. Now, I should make my leave, before you decide that I should have military schooling as well, Prince Anders. Will you be taking those lessons, do you think?”

“If I can, of course. I’ll be on the road soon, toward Modroc. I think we have a stay here for some few weeks, then must carry onward. See you at the meal?”

He looked at both of them, not certain if that was the plan or not. He might not be invited, even though it had been mentioned in front of him. Princess Liasa shook her head.

“Probably not me. I’m certain I wasn’t invited. How do I get in touch with Salina, do you think?”

Anders shrugged.

“I’ll ask her to find you for that? I’ll be gone, or we could meet here for breakfast. My efforts were promised in the city, starting at first light.”

The words got Naveed to wince, but also nod. The man seemed strained, for some reason.

“At the meal, then, Prince Anders. Sister.”

They both left then, allowing him to take a bath, under the waterfall that fell continually in the room next to his sleeping chamber, and then try to work out how to take the hair from his face with magic. It worked, but was hard to manage, without a mirror. Then, dressed in a fine enough robe, decorated well, without seeming to be claiming station that he didn’t have, Anders tried to find out where he was supposed to go for the feast.

It took a while, but he eventually got to the right place.

Chapter seven

Walking the city streets, looking for the grand market, before the sun was even properly up for the day should have been a problem. No one was truly out and about, though it was clear that the households he passed were waking for the day already. His pace wasn’t rushing, since he didn’t truly know what to expect when he got into place.

There were also two men with swords following him. Both were in different colors, but they wore head wraps, instead of hats, and had large curved blades on their sides. Scimitars. The rest of their clothing, in cut at least, told the tale of how they were employed at the grand palace of Sula Darian. At least Anders had never seen anyone dressed like that anyplace else in Barquea.

When he looked back at the men, who were about twenty feet back, scanning the world as if they expected instant assault, one of them smiled back at him. There was a gentle nod as well.

Anders stopped and walked back toward them, ready to fight if it was needed, and not expecting that at all.

“Am I not supposed to leave the palace? I’m heading toward the central market. Um, Depak Sona suggested to a few people that I’d be there today, to do free healing for those in need? Is that...” He was willing to go back, if it wasn’t allowed. Depak was his mentor, and it was a good task to take on, since he was, at least in theory, a prince there. Helping their people seemed to be desirable, even if he wasn’t hoping to be made the ruler there one day.

Still, Depak wasn’t the Sula, so if Darian had other plans, he’d do what the ruler said.

The man in deep blue who had a nice polished rock in the center of his grand blue head wrap, at the front, smiled even larger.

“Nothing like that, Prince Anders. It was just mentioned by one of the serving ladies that you were going to the market for the day, and might need help carrying things. We didn’t know it was to work. Also, your yellow hair marks you as a stranger here, so people might pay too much attention. So, here we are, to act as porters and guides, as needed.”

He nodded.

“So, that’s what you tell the nobles, so they don’t mind you walking along behind them, ready to kill anyone who looks at them the wrong way? That’s... Well, I’m not the type to have ever really had guards. Not outside of a war zone.” Even then, it had really only been one time, in a military camp. To make certain that the lonely soldiers didn’t mistake him for their new bed servant.

At least that’s what he’d been told at the time. It might have been a jest.

The other man didn’t smile at all, but nodded. He was the older of the two and had a long, powerful, black mustache. The other man, who was probably twenty or so, had a bare face. Anders had that as well, finally having worked out a good spell to shave his skin, without using a mirror for the task. Or a blade.

There was a pause, before the other guard, the mustache having man, spoke.

Then, when he did, his voice was dire and a little angry seeming.

“Exactly. We make up pleasant stories, so they’ll let us do our jobs. You want the market, to do healing? This way, then. There are always some empty stall spaces. We don’t have one of those with us. We can order someone out of theirs.”

The man moved to the front and marched, at a good clip, taking several twists and turns that Anders committed to memory, knowing he wasn’t going to find his way back, without using such a thing. Some of them were down streets that weren’t that at all. Crowded spaces between dwellings that were so narrow he, the shortest of them, could have reached out and touched the house on either side. They weren’t filled with trash, however, just being spaces, with some people starting to walk along them, mainly in the same direction he was traveling. A few had goods with them, but most had sacks, or in one case a barrow, with which to carry things away. Probably after shopping.

The trip only took about half an hour of walking. Given the labyrinth like nature of the trip and the winding path they’d taken, it was probably about a mile and a half from the front gate of the palace complex. When they got there, the street opening from a small path to a strip large enough for three wagons to pass unhindered, lined with cloth covered stands on either side, mustache stopped them and looked around.

“Where would you set up, Prince Anders?” His tone was a bit cool, actually. There was no glaring in particular, however.

So Anders shrugged.

“One of the empty places, if that won’t be stealing someone’s favorite spot? I can use the earth here to build a small structure, if that’s allowed?”

The younger man rolled his eyes.

“You’re a prince. If you say it’s allowed, it is. Not in everything, but in most. Will it take long to make a structure? We really could just ask someone if we might use theirs for the day.”

Anders just started working, since doing the other thing sounded heavy handed and annoying. Especially since a lot of people were already well set up for the day, even with the sun only just being up.

“Li Glarian, barrown, ere ot ere, sot geth neti, alloman fen.” There was pointing to instruct himself where to put the little shop, but it grew from the earth below, taking about ten minutes for the work to actually happen.

That phrasing, alloman, was one he used to work with metal or stone, or had been so far. It was an instruction for the spell not to go at a faster pace than he could handle without discomfort. It was a bit slow that way. The place really wasn’t large and it had two above ground stories and a basement level, since it was made from dirt and that had to come from somewhere, so it worked well enough.

It also didn’t disrupt things over much. A few people came to stare, their eyes wide, but no one screamed or ran away in fright. Then he colored the thing a nice green color, and put up a sign, saying free healing. Also that he was there.

The elder guard made a grunting sound.

“The Cart Boy is in? That won’t actually confuse anyone. There are only so many people with straw colored hair here right now, after all.”

He could see that, but still shrugged.

“You mean my clever brown outfit and fake name won’t actually help me here?”

“Not even a little, I fear. Still, it’s a good enough thing to do. Even making such a structure is. I should get you to redo my parents’ house for them. I keep meaning to get to that, but it’s a lot of work and I’m not rich...” This came from the more youthful man. It was, it seemed, a jest. At least the older man finally laughed.

Anders waved a bit in their direction, as they went inside. There were tables and chairs, so he arranged those, with a bit of help.

“Say, I hope this isn’t rude, but is it allowed for me to know your names?”

That got a chuckle, from both men. The older one grinned.

“I’m Mikail. This other one is Baret.”

“And I’m Cart Boy. Nice to meet you both. I should have asked earlier, but... I don’t know all the rules here. So, do you think anyone will come today? We could go shopping or something?”

A man, smiling, if a bit tentatively, came to the door just then, holding his left wrist, which wasn’t hanging at a strange angle but was making him wince in pain, every time he shifted, even a little.

The man went wide eyed, seeing the guards, who were impressive, Anders had to agree. Then he ducked his head, glanced at Anders and hunched.

“Sorry, I saw the sign? I was picking up a crate of dates and something just made a popping sound and... It’s rather painful?”

Standing, Anders waved to the now open chair.

“Here, have a seat. Do you mind if I look inside your arm with magic?”

“That... Sounds fine? How much will this cost? I don’t have much on me.”

Baret moved the chair, so the man could rest while Anders did whatever he had planned. The younger guard also spoke, seeming polite enough, if not truly gentle about the whole thing.

“The healing is free. The Great One, Depak Eta, set his cart boy to doing some light magical work while he’s here. Healing and what not. I was just trying to talk him into remaking my parents’ home for them. He did this place in a few moments, earlier.”

Anders nodded and muttered, before going into a wizard’s trance.

“Nand insane, ere ot ere, fen ot...”

The man sighed then.

“The pain is gone!”

The two guards seemed shocked at that happening, for some reason. Anders didn’t understand why, and didn’t speak, just going barely deep enough into a trance to feel the inside of the other man’s wrist. Then he nodded.

“Ah... I see. One moment here...”

He talked through what he was doing, which was reconnecting a tendon that had broken. It took several spells and nearly ten minutes, but he was able to end the pain control portion then, and set the man to doing some light exercises, to prove it wasn’t going to ache unbearably, without a spell running constantly.

The man, brown skinned and in light tan, loose flowing, clothing, took a deep breath.

“Amazing, sir! You must thank the Great One for me. For sending you today. Are you certain there’s nothing I owe for this?”

Anders shook his head then.

“Not a thing. It’s already taken care of. Now, that should hold, without issue. If there’s any problem, I should be here until mid-day, for the next several days. In the mornings, like this? I have to be off at other work, later in the day.” It felt important to explain why he had such limited hours, but the man, who didn’t bother giving his name, stood, waved with his formerly hurt hand and walked out then. Calling thanks as he did so.

That was pleasant of him, so Anders smiled at his back. Then, before he could sit again, a woman came to the door. She was having lady troubles, which couldn’t be fixed, so he deadened the pain for her, and tried to take the inflammation and swelling from her middle. Only after making certain she wasn’t with child, which wasn’t the case, being an older woman with silver mixed in her otherwise black hair.

She was a bit blank, but seemed happy with his work, when she left.

The next several hours went on in the same fashion. People, often poor ones, or so it seemed, came and he did what he could for them. Only a few were things that he didn’t feel good about at the end. A boy with an animal lip, for instance. It looked odd and bothered the boy, clearly, but Anders had no clue how to do anything at all about it.

No one yelled at him for not being good enough, however.

They just came, and he did his best. At noon, his middle growling at him in protest of his early efforts, the first man, with the injured wrist, came back. With a small barrel of soft drink, a juice made from sourfruit and a collection of dried dates, figs and some oranges, in a large box.

“This is from my wife and myself. I only have the one, so far. We run a stand, down the way, if you need anything else, Great One.”

The man seemed almost humbled, for some reason. Which Anders wasn’t going to let stand. Plus, he wasn’t the Great One.

“I’m just the Cart Boy, you can call me Anders? Andros, too, I suppose?” His Uncle Nedros had done that, most of the time, the year before. He wasn’t certain, but he kind of thought it was supposed to be an insult. That or a jest. Adding the last bit was an indication he was a soldier, he thought.

The man nodded.

“Andros? Like the Great Illusionist? Andros Brolly, the Prince from the northlands?”

He nearly lied and said no, but Mikail laughed.

“The same man. Don’t let that get around? He’s here for healing right now, not to put on shows for people in the city. I should go and buy some food, for the meal. We need to stay here and guard the Prince though...” It was kind of clear that the man expected the stranger to deliver more food for them, or possibly run errands.

Anders just shrugged.

“Let me make some cups and plates and we can feast on what our friend here brought for us? That will let us stay here, in case anyone comes?”

No one did said no, so Anders went outside, hunched down and used some stones he found to make four matching cups, with handles attached, which were large and stout, as well as several tiny plates. The rocks ended up being smooth and all of once piece. It was brutally hard work and took him slightly longer to make the cups and plates than the entire building had, earlier.

Again, he worked slowly, but still ended up breathing hard from effort. Dirt, or even sand, was simpler to work in than larger rocks were. Even if sand was made of the same things. When he finally had that done, feeling slow and a bit like he was going to be scolded for taking his sweet time, he set up a meal for the others. Including the man who had brought the food and drink, since he hadn’t left yet.

There were enough cups and plates, and plenty of fruit. Some of it dried, which made the dates and figs like candy. The sourjuice contrasted nicely with it. Anders cooled that, using a spell. A simple one, that had the others going quiet, for some reason. They ate though, and drank the beverage on offer.

Finally, Baret shook his head.

“The midday rest is almost over. You’re doing several more hours here, Prince Anders? You should mark the schedule on a sign. That way people will know when to come to see you. We don’t want them wasting their time, waiting for you if you aren’t going to be here.”

The others chuckled at the words, but it was a good idea, so he went to see to that, giving his plans that way, for the next several days, on a blue and brown sign, to the side of the open door. It could be closed at night, but didn’t have a way of preventing entry. Not that he couldn’t seal the door using magic, when they left.

Not that it was needed. The worst anyone could do was come in and take his chairs and table, or the new cups and plates. He grabbed those, and cleaned them outside, then set them to the side. They still had fruit and juice left, which was good, since two of the people that came needed something for their families and were clearly unable to simply go and buy things, having been ill for too long. That they’d been brought to him left him feeling horrible. One man probably would have died, if he hadn’t been there.

Anders was thinking about that when he left, at mid-day, about three hours before the late meal. He didn’t run back to the palace, but the day was nice out, without being too hot or even threatening weather of note. The sky had a few clouds, but they were the white and fluffy looking type that didn’t mean much.

He worried the whole way back that people would come to find him, for aid, and he wouldn’t be there. It got so bad, that halfway there, he searched the work spot with his mind. Only to find that no one was there at all, or even coming. Those in the worst need had managed to make it earlier, it seemed.

His mind put to rest by that fact, he started to mentally plan out some smaller illusions, in case that kind of thing came up. The big shows were, he thought, impressive enough. Sometimes people liked small amusements. Little things that could be arranged, while they did needlework or spoke softly with friends. Music, for instance.

So, being involved in such thoughts, he almost didn’t notice when the blade flew at him. It was a silver and gold streak, at first, but his shield came up with his left hand and it fell to the ground, with a clatter. He’d made the motion and the mental sigil without even thinking about it. His months at war priming him for such things.

Then, a single man attacked him, holding a curved sword and wearing a black and yellow mask. That was held tight to his skin. A thing of leather, that reminded him of one that he’d seen before. Seven, actually. In a similar sudden attack. On Princess Sweyn, at the time. In Istlan.

The boy, and Anders could tell it was Prince Lassa without doing any magic to make certain of it, moved well, on the attack. Thankfully he realized who it was, and managed to check with wizardry, in time to do two things. First, he pushed the boy backwards, hard enough that he went to the ground with a thump, and slid on the rather smooth stones the road was made of there.

The second thing Anders did was manage to speak, before the guards could hack Lassa to pieces.

“Prince Lassa! There you are. I was asked to see to aiding you in certain matters, by your father, the Sula. I was thinking we could start with some light reading and working on magics that interest you, as well as some military tactics? Sword work is of interest to you particularly?”

The boy groaned and Mikail, rather gently, took his face mask off, which meant unlacing it at the back. That took a moment and Lassa looked annoyed, rather than afraid, when his visage was shown to the world.

“So I’d heard. I was hoping that stabbing you a few times might cause you to think twice about setting me to my paces. I take it that isn’t going to work? I could do that now, if you think it will? Just poke you a bit?”

He laughed then, not really meaning it. They were real blades, after all.

“No. If you do it again, you’ll die. Understand that, Prince Lassa. I nearly killed you just now, by mistake. So did these two fine men. You’ll do better than this, in the future. I don’t mean that you’ll be a better assassin, either. Not just that. That too, clearly. Still, you need to learn first, because if you fail at this again, at least with me or anyone around me, it will be your last chance.” He sounded mean, he realized. As if he was actually planning to kill a Prince.

Because, he realized, he actually was. What was more, both guards, men who worked at the palace, who clearly knew the Prince who was still humbly sitting on the stones at their feet, nodded.

Mikail grimaced.

“Even for a Prince, dead is dead. If you think that a simple attack will remove Anders Brolly, I have to suggest you pay attention for a while first and go carefully there? On the good side, this man is clearly no bully, for all he mentioned your death. If you’d come for me like that, even if it had worked, you would be dead right now. Again, Prince or not. Baret couldn’t tell who you were, because of that mask.”

There was an actual glare, and the man stiffened, as if figuring his harsh words were going to be met with violence, or possibly Lassa throwing a fit. Like a little Princess. He even started to do that.

“I’ll have you-”

Anders held up his hand, his right one, held in a fist. Ready to make Lassa explode.

“Prince Lassa, you have your orders and a valuable lesson here today. I suggest you merely prepare to do better, in the future? To simply be a better person?” He still sounded angry and as if he intended violence. At least to himself.

The prince stood up then, his face sneering.

“Fine. I’ll thrash you with my hands. If you kill me for doing that, you’ll hang, even if you are higher in the rankings than I am! Argh!”

Anders shifted to the right and back, as the boy tried to tackle him. It was a clumsy move, but one that nearly worked, being so unexpected. His counter was to simply grab the outspread arm, the right one and then the neck of the flying boy, and pivot in place. He nearly went down anyway, himself, but only staggered and let Lassa land on his face, after letting him go.

Then he had to dance back, as it was tried, a little harder and faster, once again. This time there was no counter to the move, just him dodging out of the way. Mikail drew his sword again, followed by Baret. The older man seemed wide eyed and scared.

“Prince... Lassa... I must ask you to reconsider. Prince Anders does outrank you. If we must kill, we will have to remove you, given that. I beg you, leave off!”

The child didn’t. Anders smiled and waved at the men.

“This, it seems, is about to be his first lesson, if I can manage it. Don’t harm him, please? I was set to see to his instruction. I would have rather done it the easy way.” He managed the words well enough, and struck Lassa on the side of the head, with an open palm. Turned the movement at the last moment, knocking him to the ground.

A thing that happened six times, inside a minute. It wasn’t a totally one-sided fight, with Lassa managing to come at him and even do some damage, several times. His nose stung, and blood covered his front from several of the blows, when Prince Lassa finally managed to grab him, sending them both to the hard stones below.

Anders rolled him over, using leverage and some of the tricks he’d learned to fight, if ever unarmed on the battlefield, and lamented not having brought his stick with him that day. Then he hit hard and fast, for about twenty seconds.

Prince Lassa, his attacker, didn’t lose consciousness, as much as curl into a ball and start crying. It was a loud and pitiful affair. Baret moved in to pull Anders off.

“No? Get up, Lassa. This fight isn’t over. Take your feet and keep going. You can cry, but you can’t stop fighting. If you do that, in a real fight, not here playing with me, then you’ll die. Rise and strike me down, if you can. Don’t stop fighting until you can’t go on any longer.” He sounded cold again.

Mean and as if he were planning something bad.

Farad felt baffled. Anders sounded old, but it wasn’t strictly that part of himself who was speaking. The boy inside felt rage, but was actually holding that back, fairly well. His fists were raised, ready to keep going.

Mikail moved in then, and leaned over, patting the Prince on the shoulder, as he lay, moaning.

“You heard him. Rise and keep going. He isn’t wrong, Prince Lassa. Every warrior learns this lesson, at some point. The battle has been joined... You must not leave off, until you have no ability to fight. Do it.” Then, seeming as if his own life were about to be over, he moved back. Gesturing at someone else, who had come through the gates, to move back. It was a commanding movement. One that had half a dozen people moving. Anders noticed the bodies there, standing back, without seeing who it was, exactly.

Lassa tightened, then roared and attacked again. Poorly. What skill he’d been using, which wasn’t really below what Anders had himself for unarmed combat, was greatly diminished. Part of that was simply exhaustion, of course. Fighting was always hard. It hurt and if you weren’t used to that fact, it sapped the strength from you. Your very will could fail.

Anders was used to it, from regular training and from the war, where things had been so much worse that this game of the moment almost seemed like a prank, instead of an actual attempt on his life.

The other prince was cast down, in a different fashion each time. Then, when he was on the ground, crying, calling for aid, Anders spoke, each time.

“Rise. Don’t give in. Don’t let pain stop you from your task. This is harsh, but you have learned to be soft and spoiled. That is, perhaps, as any might do if they’re raised to such comforts. You will not have those any longer. Now, fight. Use your skills. You have clearly been trained for such things. You ache. Your body cries for relief, but it will not come. Now is the time you must make yourself move. Keep going! You can do this. Do not fail. Do not let yourself give in.”

He had to sound crazed, and it wasn’t a lesson that he’d needed to learn himself. Even Farad hadn’t, really. He’d been an old man for too long, and lived in pain for decades. Anders, the boy, simply didn’t know how to give in. Even without magic, he would have fought to the death, before letting another person triumph over him. At least when it counted.

Prince Lassa was simply used to the world doing things for him. For things to be easy and simple. Now he was, perhaps for the first time in his life, being asked to do more than that. To actually persevere when doing so meant something.

In the end, the boy failed.

Only when Anders had rendered him unconscious, however.

When he looked up, blood still pouring from his nose, staining the stone at his feet, Lassa doing that as well, in even greater measure, he noticed who was watching him.

Prince Naveed stared, with Depak behind him, his face in a scowl. Next to him were three of the Sulanas, and of course, the Sula himself.

Anders, injured or not, smiled and bowed.

“Sorry about getting the stones out here bloody. We’ll clean this up, directly. Prince Lassa heard that his life was going to change, and objected, slightly. It won’t be a problem now, I’m certain.” He shook his head then, his nose throbbing, as he did it. “Well, that isn’t true, of course. It won’t be a problem for any of you, from now on, I meant to say. Well, perhaps for Depak Sona and his apprentices? I was going to ask Lissa to see to his education in magic?”

The Sula looked at his son, his own child, and turned away.

“Such brutality, here...”

Mikail cleared his throat, seeming strained.

“It was light, Sula Darian. Prince Lassa, wearing a mask and armed with knife and sword attempted to assassinate Prince Anders. Then, after being given some rather good advice, Prince Lassa decided to take his chances unarmed, since Prince Anders wouldn’t be allowed the right to self-defense, not as far as killing, in that case. You saw much of the rest. It wasn’t even done to humble the would-be killer. Just a real lesson, that Prince Lassa had brought about, all on his own. Harsh, but it is similar to things all guards must face in their first days of training.”

Darian, seeming upset, heaved a sigh.

“I... See. I think. This is real? You witnessed all of this?” That was spoken to Baret, directly.

“I did, Father. Mikail is being far too kind, in order to protect Lassa. I nearly killed him myself, before his mask came off. Now... I have to recommend we hang him. That or beheading? He attempted to kill a Prince of our land. It was an honest happening, well witnessed. There is only one punishment for such a thing.”

There was a grim nod, from the Sula, and one of the women started to cry, rather openly. She wasn’t old, really, seeming to be about four decades, if that, in age. Still, she spoke, her voice quivering.

It also wasn’t Endeara.

“It must be done. Lassa... My child... He has... There is no other way.”

Anders shrugged, and then shook his head, his nose still leaking. He rolled his eyes, then spoke a few spells, first to fix the swelling and blood flow, healing the torn flesh, carefully, and then repairing the small scars left, inside. When that was done, he cleaned himself, and his clothing, stripping them of blood. The stones as well, leaving a small ball of red liquid hovering in the air, at almost eye level.

Then he added Lassa to that. Not healing his bruises but stopping the bleeding and cleaning his rather nicely made outfit. It was red and blue in color, which was festive, even if the mask didn’t match it perfectly.

“Excuse me, Sula Darian? I was asked to see to his education, was I not? I don’t want to tell you, any of you, how to live your lives, but I can’t do that task very well if the student is dead. It’s a special privileges, but would I be allowed to beg for his life, do you think?”

Everyone stopped to stare at him, with Depak seeming suddenly considering, rather than upset with him. The Sula didn’t even breathe for a moment, then, slowly, nodded.

“We can only do this one time, Prince Anders. Such a thing, attempting to kill one of my heirs, is punishable by death. Are you certain that Prince Lassa is worthy of such consideration? If you do this, you will, almost certainly, be removed from even the top fifty, in the next position chart.” The man seemed almost angry. Sad at the same time.

The other women looked scared, as did Mikail.

Anders smiled.

“A small price to pay, in exchange for a life. Still, I have no clue if Lassa is willing to try. If he is... Well, then it might be worth it. If not, I should probably leave off. What say you, Prince Lassa?”

The boy, sitting up, but alone, tried to stand. It was clearly painful.

“I... Don’t want to die. I’ll do as you say, Prince Anders.”

That got a nod, from Depak Sona.

“See to that then, Anders. You have three weeks to make something of him. Otherwise, you lose your position here totally, and Lassa will lose his life. Do you understand?”

Anders smiled, sadly.

“I do. If he fails, I must kill him and then leave this land in shame, for all eternity.” Otherwise, it would be Depak telling Sula Darian what to do. That couldn’t be allowed, so he took it the only way he could see it working.

Everyone there, including Lassa, seemed to agree that it sounded correct.

Chapter eight

Five people followed Anders back to his room, after the Sula took his leave. The poor man was clearly angry. Also frightened. That one had required looking into his very thoughts to understand, for Anders. It wasn’t that he felt that promoting Anders had been a mistake, either, which would have been what came to his own mind first, if he’d been thinking about it, instead of being mildly disturbed by what Prince Lassa had done.

As they moved away, it was clear that the Sula, the leader of a large and powerful land, thought that Depak Sona was simply going to order Anders to kill Lassa. Thereby removing from consideration an unwanted and unruly mess of a man. People had died in the past, due to such things coming from Depak. Even princes and princesses had died or vanished. Not all of them were in the top ten, either.

Another prince having tried to openly slay Anders was worth a death. That Anders had acted honorably, even gently, if in a strange fashion, wasn’t missed by the man. When he’d threatened to remove his rank, casting him down, the Prince had held his head high and spoken of it being a fair price. A thing that the Sula had, very nearly cried over, at the time.

Then, Depak Sona had given an order for Lassa to be killed.

That part, the idea that the Prince was so rotten that he couldn’t fix himself in time, not in the mind of anyone there, except for Anders, was amazing, of course.

Inside his chamber, with Prince Naveed, Depak Sona and Prince Baret watching Lassa as if he might try to run, or fight again, Anders cleared his throat.

“So, you want part of the palace rebuilt? That’s pretty major. We... Honestly, let’s get with the others and see what the Sula wants done that way? It should be good practice, really, and everyone will need things to do, to keep busy.” He glanced at Baret when he spoke, which had Prince Naveed staring for a moment, seeming impressed.

“Ah. I see the true danger now, of having Anders Brolly here. It isn’t simply that he’s impressive in his own person, or has taught others magic. Simply being around him is making everyone else great as well! You two were out discussing plans to renovate the palace? The old wing?”

Baret, still dressed like a guard, snorted.

“No, brother. Prince Anders was out in town, in the central market, healing people. For free. He created a small building for it, in no more than mere moments, then aided person after person. Then, when given payment, he shared the food. Not only with myself and our guard, but strangers, if they had need. He even tried to hide his name, so no one would know it was him doing it. I don’t think it’s even a clever plan to gain favor, Naveed. He was simply being a good person.” He glared at Lassa and shook his head. “Who you tried to murder, because you wanted to avoid lessons? If you’d come for me like that, you wouldn’t be alive right now. And I’m the brother who actually likes you, Lassa, so keep that in mind. Well, maybe Prince Anders likes you as well? Even if he was cruel in his thrashing of you. That was well done, wasn’t it, Naveed? Skillful.”

The Heir took a deep breath.

“Oh, it was, truly. Not because I long to see you beaten, either, little brother. Prince Anders is the Great One of Istlan. He has fought armies and won. I don’t know what you thought you were going to accomplish there, earlier, but I was shocked to find you alive and merely being tossed to the ground like that.”

Lassa made a face then.

“What could he do? He was quick with a deflection of my knife, and pushed me a bit. True, that’s a lot to bring out that fast, but I didn’t give him time to do more than that. He doused me with water. So did you...” There was a narrowing of eyes then, as if the boy planned to fight.

Depak Sona laughed, then he pointed to the left.

“Anders. Destroy that wall. Now.”

It exploded, instantly. The stone was heavy and thick and took ten blasts to get through, but, knowing he could fix it later, he did as he was asked. That wasn’t the end. Stones were flung at him, and he had to melt them, in the air. That was difficult on a level that Anders had never tried to manage before, in fact. Panting and struggling, he then had to shape the things into perfect squares, and struggle with Depak, to put them back into a wall, as the other man did everything in his power to stop him.

In the end, laughing, they were both sucking air in like they were about to die.

Baret was standing with his mouth open, as was Lassa. Naveed seemed better in control of himself.

“That is what it means to be a Great One, brothers. In part. I suggest you both speak to sister Salina, about what is required of that type of person, soon. Know this though...” The man, his brown eyes clear and a bit sad, managed to seem rather commanding just then. “I have spent my entire life, pressing myself to learn magic, on a level that almost no one else here has. If I’d been forced to fight Anders, I would be dead. Both of you as well. Perhaps the Great One would survive.”

Prince Lassa, who looked a lot like his brothers, now that they were side by side, having only a slightly longer face than the others, made a dismissive gesture.

“If he’s so powerful, why isn’t he the heir, instead of you?”

Anders spoke then, the whole situation becoming embarrassing.

“Because the strongest isn’t always the best to rule. For that we need wisdom and compassion, in equal measure to strength. None of which is important right now. I’ve giving up my place here, so that you can have another chance. You agreed to do it, so, let’s start?”

That got more narrowed eyes, as if the man just couldn’t help himself. His face was still rather battered and Depak looked ready to kick him in a sensitive place, to get his attention. Indeed, his foot actually started to leave the ground when Lassa spoke.

“Fine. I suppose I have to be your slave now or pleasure you with my mouth, my life forfeit if I don’t? You northers are all perverted that way, aren’t you? Your Ambassador was caught doing that with one of the serving men, some months back. The Sula had to bribe people not to speak of it. To prevent a war. You’re from there, so you must do the same things, right?”

Depak seemed ready to kill him for the words and Naveed stiffened, and seemed nearly as upset. Baret shrugged, as if he didn’t care at all.

Anders grinned.

“Not at all. We don’t hold such in the shame you do here, though, that’s true. I won’t require such services from you. You won’t have time for anything that pleasant or fun. From now on, for the next weeks, you’ll sit your evenings in meditation and contemplation and your mornings learning. I won’t threaten you. You heard what I have to do if you fail. The only thing there is Lassa...” He smiled then. Meaning it. “You won’t fail. Not in this. No one is truly asking you to do anything you can’t. So, now, we’re going to meditate. Baret, Prince Naveed, will you join us? I’d invite you, Depak Sona, but I need to send you with gold and jewels, to beg Princess Lissa to help teach Lassa magic. By the way, Lassa... If you annoy her too much...” He’d just said he wasn’t going to threaten the man, so he looked away. “Then you are a fool. She’s a capable teacher of topics that you should be learning, even if your life didn’t depend on seeming like a good person, from now on. Here, if you will aid us, please, Depak Sona? I have a chest of gold.” Anders had two and a half chests left, so got one of the full ones, which mainly had rings and necklaces in it, made from found materials, opened it to show Lassa he was actually paying for the lessons, out of his own pocket, and passed the thing to Depak, who picked the thing up, grunted, set it down and then called out a small spell, so it would float after him.

“I’ll handle this directly, Anders Sona. You’re all in here until dinner?”

That got a nod, even if he couldn’t speak for the others. They might have things to do. Still, as if it were a real thing, they all settled on pillows, and schooled their minds for several hours. Then he whispered to them.

“Come out of the tunnel in your mind now. Hold to calm and peace. We will go to the meal now. Lassa, attempt to hold to silence, unless others speak to you. This is not a punishment. I want you to not lose your focus. Think only of what you are doing. How it feels to stand, to breathe, to walk. Now, I think the food is... This way?”

The small eating room, large enough for six, or possibly eight, people, was the same one Anders had used the year before. This time though, instead of a team of older servants, the women who brought the food were younger.

One who he knew by name, even.

“Tena! How have you been? I’ve been meaning to speak to you again, but things kept coming up. Are you well?” He probably seemed too familiar, but no one so much as blinked at the idea. Servants in Barquea were, in the main, treated as family. It meant that, if you did the wrong thing, they’d correct you, as well as see to your needs.

“Anders! I’d heard you were in again. Are you doing any of your fine illusion shows? I know, greedy to ask first thing, but you bothered to speak to me, from afar, so that means we’re friends now, to everyone else.” She leaned in and whispered, but loud enough for the room to hear. “They all think I’m angling to be your first wife.”

Naveed smirked a bit, and Lassa, instructions to the otherwise, or not, spoke.

“You could do worse. Both of you.” Then, as if actually bothering to try, and simply not doing a great job, he went silent again. He smiled. It wasn’t nearly as annoying as it might have been.

Baret nodded.

“There is truth there. Prince Anders would be a catch for you, Miss. The other way around... well, a palace servant is practically royalty, so no one should have any issue there. Unless your masters in your far away home would find that offensive? You’re a double Prince, after all. They may seek only the finest for such things.” He winced and Naveed glared.

Anders simply winked at Tena.

“We should speak on that, later? No one back home would have an issue with that. Except, perhaps, Gull?”

That just got a saucy look from the pretty, black haired, woman.

“That’s not his business, unless he wants to take me to his home as his own wife? Not so much as a letter and you used magic to speak to me, several times. I heard that only a few people can do that at all, so that means I’m pretty special, doesn’t it?”

In a way it probably did, so he nodded, as the bowls of food, all covered, were placed in the middle of the table, the other girls watching them all, rather closely. Several examined Prince Lassa’s face.

Naveed waved in his direction.

“He’s learning to become a warrior, so had the first of his lessons, today. Take no worry over this.” The man started to serve himself, as Baret smiled and nodded, going along with the lie.

“Indeed! Now, unless we need to set a wedding, the question was about Prince Anders and a show of some sort? Are there plans for that, Anders?”

The man actually seemed interested, even if he’d had all day to ask.

“There are, actually. The Great One of Modroc, Eltha Tennet, has asked for a great show to be performed, as a gift to the people of Barquea. She could do it herself, of course, but I think she’s attempting to get me to stop being so pitiful when it comes to illusion, which is her primary area of magic. She does other things as well, of course. I’m planning a show here, in a few days, to practice, then a larger one in the city. Which I need to actually plan out this time. The last one was a bit sloppy, I’m afraid. You and your friends here can come and aid me, when I practice? Say, tomorrow night? We’ll need to do that in the room we’re doing the real show, since it’s important, given some of my new techniques.”

Prince Naveed clapped.

“That would be wonderful, if you’d all aid in that way? I would, but I fear I’ll be busy, seeing to matters of the land, for my father.”

Tena, clearly seeing what Anders was really doing, gifting the servants with their own show, in the fine space that was normally held only for the royal family, ducked her head.

“How many will you desire for that, Prince Anders?”

He thought about how many had come the last time and let his head play side to side.

“Enough to fill the small theater? This is actually important, so... Can that be cleared, Prince Naveed?” The servants could honestly be needed for their jobs, after all.

“I’ll see to it. After dinner, tomorrow?”

That worked, so he nodded, working on the plans in his head. The main thing he really had to go over was the music and integration of the people. The last time had been a bit abrupt. No one had minded too much, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, if possible.

At the same time, he didn’t want to drop a room of people into utter blackness for half a minute, either. That would be a bit scarier than he was actually trying for.

He also needed two different shows, so that he didn’t bore people, too much.

It occurred to him, if briefly, that entertaining others wasn’t actually his job. He didn’t get paid for it, and asking for coin for his activities wasn’t a thing he’d ever even considered. Plus, if he was going to be honest, he enjoyed helping people, doing healing and even building projects, then making up entertainments. Not that knowing that about himself meant he was going to shirk his duty. For the time being, his goal was to...

He blinked, and smiled.

Then waited while the servants left the room and nearly didn’t say anything at all. Finally, he looked at Naveed and then shrugged.

“It just hit me that I don’t really have a goal in life. I just kind of... Float, from one thing to the next. Back home I’m supposed to be working on teaching magic, but here... I don’t know why I was asked to come, really. Probably to get me away from the castle. There’s a bit of worry that someone will try to get me to take over. It isn’t going to happen, of course.”

Baret took a bite of flat bread, with some cooked grain on it. Using it as a scoop, more than anything else. It was the traditional way of eating there, Anders supposed. They most often used their fingers for that process. There were rules to it, but it wasn’t a ten step process to put something into your mouth, thankfully. The formal rules in Istlan really were a bit like that.

As he chewed, the Prince waved a bit, to indicate he was hurrying, so that he could speak on the topic at hand. That or change it.

When he got the food down, there was a grin.

“You can always move here, if you want? I’m sure you’d make a fine heir, with a few more years under your belt. I mean, I’ve never been off to a war. Have you, Naveed?” The question was asked in a way that indicated the answer was already known.

Instead of humbling the other Prince, Anders shook his head.

“If all goes well, we won’t have wars every five years or anything. That kind of means I need to do things outside of that. Besides, I’m not certain you want a King, or a Sula, who’s too involved in that kind of thing. I mean, it might not hurt for you to go to the front, or to do some exercises with the military, so you know what you’re asking others to do, but a man who loves war isn’t the person you want in a time of peace. They’ll constantly be looking for an excuse to fight. Even if they don’t look for it, that should be the last option on anyone’s list, not the first.” Anders shrugged. “Which I suppose this situation works for, pretty well? I heard that my place on a certain list is about to drop a bit?”

He smiled, since it really was a fine enough trade. Even for Lassa. At least if he bothered not to be too troublesome.

Naveed looked at the door, even though no one was coming in at all.

“That... I know what he said, and how you took it, but it isn’t exactly what will happen. It was a test, to see if you cared more for power than for family. I think he forgot for a moment that you’re from a different land. Then you answered correctly, even in spite of that. We all know what that kind of things means, here. You didn’t. And still, you were willing to give up status and power, to save a life. One that...” He glared then at Lassa, but didn’t speak about why that was.

Baret sighed.

“Which... Even though the Great One said you should kill Lassa, you might want to find a way around that? He’ll do what he needs to. Right Lassa? You can meditate and work with our younger sister, Lissa, on magic. Just... Pretend to be good, for a while, at least? Also, what were you thinking? Prince Anders isn’t just some boy who was given a better position than you have here. He earned it. Also, he’s important in Istlan. They’re far from here, but also our friends. What if you killing him meant they retaliated by proclaiming war, or killing some of our sisters? They have three of them there.”

Lassa looked down at his plate, and didn’t speak. Not for a long time. When he did, his voice was tired sounding. As if he might have had a difficult day. Which was probably true, if not a thing that Anders was going to give him any sympathy for.

“I was thinking that, if I scared him enough, he wouldn’t want to work with me. You know, I stab him a little, six or seven times, not a lot, then... I didn’t really consider anything past that. I just want to play and have fun, not do... Whatever it is I’ll have to now.”

Instead of answering, Anders ate, trying not to take more food than was his portion, even if he was kind of starving. A day of healing was enough work to really count, as far as using energy up went.

When they finished, they simply stood, and started to leave. Which was fine enough.

“We all need to go over the meditation, first. In the morning, if she’ll take you on as a student, you should get with Lissa. Prince Baret, will you be willing to sit with them for that? It’s a lot to ask, but I promised people my efforts in the market place.”

Instead of insisting he was needed to protect Anders, he simply shrugged.

“That sounds boring. I can see to it. I guess. I can’t really use magic, myself.”

Anders shrugged.

“If you actually try, I bet you can. Tell Lissa I said that and see what she says? If nothing else, the way we’re learning new things is a good memory exercise, so you should learn the process, even if you can’t do magic with it later. It’s useful.”

That was all he said, until everyone was out of the room. Then, instead of going to his room to work, he went back in with Prince Lassa, the others making their own escapes, and meditated for another three hours. Even Anders was feeling a bit bored by the time he shooed Lassa out the door.

“Find Princess Lissa first thing in the morning. I’ll be back at mid-day.” He sighed then and shook his head. “Lassa... You have to know that you almost died today. Not just because I nearly killed you, or Mikail or Prince Baret did, even though that happened too. The Sula and Depak Sona both nearly called for that. Probably to stop a war. Yes, your father was glad that I came up with a way to save you, but you can’t fail in this now. If you do... Well, we might both end up dead.”

The boy, even having recently been in a trance, smirked.

“That isn’t real, Prince Anders. Father was just saying all of that, because he doesn’t like me to have fun. We’ll be fine.”

Anders snagged his arm before he could turn and bounce away, down the smooth stone hallway.

“That’s what I mean, Lassa. I encountered his thoughts, using magic. Everyone there, in fact. What he was saying wasn’t a jest or a ruse to get you to do better. He was thinking of the pain he will feel if you must be put to death for your actions. We still have to contact Istlan and... I won’t lie, I’m going to have to be clever to save you. Technically I don’t have a real way to stop a war from this... So, do what I say for the next weeks? It will be tempting to try and make up a story about how things are normal for you here, but they really, truly, aren’t.”

It was clear the other boy didn’t believe him. He even rolled his eyes.

“You worry too much, Prince Anders. It will be fine. Still, I can sit in lessons and fail at magic in the mornings for a while. It isn’t fun, being punished this way, but it isn’t the servants being beaten for it either.”

Anders blinked.

“Sorry, I missed that. How would you frame the servants for things like this? Is that why you wore a mask?”

There was a nod.

“In part. Also, after I stabbed you, and ran off, no one would be able to prove it was me. When we get caught doing minor things wrong, one of the servants is normally thrashed for it, with a switch. To make us feel bad?”

Anders had never heard of that before. They certainly didn’t do it that way in Istlan.

“Well, from now on, you take the thrashings. You’re an adult, after all.”

The boy actually laughed.

“Ah, the humor in your home land is very different than ours here. Funny, though! I will see you tomorrow? I need a drink, after the day I had.”

Anders growled and then didn’t bite his tongue.

“No. Nothing like that. Go and sleep, nothing else.”

That got waved at as the boy moved off down the hall. Probably pretending not to hear him. Anders nodded and then smiled slightly to himself.

“I made a mistake, trying to keep him alive. Now, I’m probably going to end up dead, aren’t I?” That or fleeing Barquea in shame, after killing Lassa himself.

The trick would be in making Lassa do something silly that ended his own life. How that could be done, Anders had no clue at all. Instead of worrying too much, he moved back through the door into his room, and sat again, on a nice, rather large, blue pillow. His legs crossed under him.

Then he focused his thoughts, and thought about what he needed to be doing. The first thing, honestly, was to get in touch with Ambassador Belford. If they were going to stop a war, that man would be needed to help repair everything, on both sides of the balance. That meant seeking the fellow with his wizard skills...

Only to find that he was four doors down, in the same hallway. Still awake for the day, as well.

It was annoying of him, but he got up, still in a trance, watching the world for assassins, since that had happened once that day already, and moved to the correct door, knocking gently.

When it opened, it was Mistress Belford, who stood there in shock for several moments, finally hugging him.

“Anders! We’d heard that you were in Barquea again. In fact, we were just plotting out a way to see you, in the coming days. Come in. Come in.” She turned, and called out, her voice friendly and relaxed sounding. “Nicoa! It’s Anders, come to visit.” There was a slightly too loud aspect to her voice. She was also speaking in Barquean.

Which meant something. Probably that she feared spies were about. A thing that might well be true. He hadn’t noticed that yet, but it could simply mean that their watchers were high quality ones. Probably the servants, but there could be others there as well.

Baron Belford walked out of a joined space, dressed in black and blue, a cloth that seemed like velvet, only had a fine pattern woven into it, at the same time. That seemed like small, slightly shining triangles.

Instead of starting out by beating him with a stick, the man bowed. Using second courtly. Anders matched him, his left hand out. Empty as well, since any letters or papers that had been sent hadn’t come with him, on that trip. Probably meaning that Prince Erold had that kind of thing.

“Anders!” He spoke in Istlan then, his voice happy seeming, even if the words weren’t at all. “Use this language, and seem as if we’re having a reunion? You were attacked, earlier? We heard of that, but no one will tell us more than that. Only that it was real and rather dire in some fashion. You seem... Fine. Did the assassins live?”

Sighing, he nodded. Then faked a smile and spoke through it, as if related things from his trip.

“Prince Lassa. Masked, like those who sought to kill Sweyn were, those years back? First a thrown knife and then with a sword. He’s alive. A bit bruised. After he failed with the weapons, he decided that I wouldn’t be allowed to kill him if he continued unarmed. I beat him for about fifteen minutes, after that. Then I got the Sula to spare him, since I’d been assigned to help in his training yesterday. He’s... I’m under orders from Depak to kill him, if he won’t get into line. At the same time, the Sula indicated that doing this might well drop my ranking to about fiftieth place on the list. Thankfully, I don’t actually care about that part. Naveed thinks that was something different. A threat to test my mettle, perhaps?”

Both of the Belfords closed their eyes then, with Nicoa returning to himself faster than his wife, even if she were, Anders thought, well over five hundred years old. Lady Martya had memories of her from her own early life, at least. Not from the crystal that had made her, in part, Ganges.

Master Belford took a very deep breath.

“Which makes our current lack of information on this understandable. How do we handle this, with King Matheus?”

He nearly froze, then, after a moment, he grinned and shrugged, in a way that had to be too rude, when addressing the Ambassador from his own homeland.

“Simple. We tell the truth, and that I, probably foolishly, begged to have this prince’s life spared. Then I simply need to make it look like Prince Lassa has repaired himself, for at least a while. A few weeks of training here, then... I... Honestly, I think we should put him in the military. Well away from here. The Princes here do that, sometimes.” It was a bit mean to do, to the innocent troopers who would have to put up with him, but it was, likely, better than even a small war between their lands.

Mistress Belford clapped her hands together.

“Ah! How wonderful. Yes, we can do that. It doesn’t fix the fact that he tried to murder you though, Anders. What’s to stop him from trying again?”

The answer to that question was clear. Nothing at all. Instead of lying, Anders simply shrugged.

“Me not living here full time? I don’t think it’s about personal hatred, or anything like that. It wasn’t. He might be holding a grudge now, after what happened earlier. That... It wasn’t my doing that made it happen, but he seems the type to not really understand that his own actions were part of the disaster that took place.”

That it seemed, was a thing that they all could agree on. At least the others both nodded.

Chapter nine

Anders still had two guards with him for the day, so he brought some silver with him, as well as a small bag of gold, to pay for food and help people that might need it. Mikail came, along with Rondu. Both of them were older men, but only compared to Anders. Mikail was easier with him that day than the one before, though Rondu took until after the meal that Anders paid for to become used to him. They both did it, however, and the day, while busy with healing, was no worse than the one before.

People came, a few just to visit and chat for a few moments. They were polite, though it was slightly odd, people he didn’t know at all seeking him out just to say hello.

The little shop was being left alone, as far as he could tell, and while it needed to be cleaned at the end of the day, since dust had started to get in, neither guard thought he was being too strange in staying for some moments, to use half a dozen spells to clean the place.

Then, glancing at Mikail, he grinned.

“Now, we should go back along a different path? Perhaps come in from gate I’ve never used before?”

The words had both men chuckling.

Rondu reached out and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Good! Here I was fretting, trying to come up with a reason to sneak back. There is no threat to you that is likely, but an attempt was made yesterday, so it could take place again today. This way. It will take more walking.”

The man wasn’t wrong. They hurried, so, only an hour later, Anders was back in his room, able to wash up again, and to get his daily exercises and martial reviews done, before Lassa found him. The boy tapped on the door, and seemed annoyed to have to do even that.

“This is boring, you know that, Prince Anders?” He grinned. “Lissa Sona did teach me twenty different spells parts and hand magics already. In a single day. That’s incredible. No wonder you paid a whole box of gold for the lessons. I’d thought that it was meant as an insult, saying that I was so much bother that my own sister needed to be bribed to aid me.”

Ander grinned.

“No, it was that. Everyone else gets free lessons from her, so far. So, be insulted, if only on a small level. You did try to kill me, after all. Now, show me what you learned?”

He readied himself to be pushed, but Prince Lassa made a light, instead, which appeared over his fingers. It was strong enough, without being a blinding pain to look at. Then he went to the window, and made a gentle rain come into being. Over the course of several minutes, it became clear that Princess Lissa, being intelligent as she was, hadn’t shown her murderous brother anything that would easily be used to harm anyone.

Anders cheered on realizing he wasn’t about to die. At least not from magic. Not at that moment.

“Excellent! I was thinking we’d go over memory techniques now, since you had a full morning of magic. If you will use them, such tricks will speed your education incredibly. Then we need to find some people. I hear that Prince Nedros is around?”

That got a sour expression to appear on the boy’s face.

“He doesn’t love me.”

“He’s not fond of me, either. That’s fine. I want his advice, that’s all.”

Prince Lassa shook his head.

“To see how to best hide my body? Oh, my sister Liasa wants to know if you’d like to get married? To her, I mean. I think she was asking after that. I promised to ask. I can’t suggest it. She only learned fifteen new tricks today, working with Salina. Some different things, I noticed. Ones that Lissa was instructed by the Great One not to show me, yet...” He actually seemed suspicious.

Anders was just honest about the idea.

“Yes, the more deadly things. Normally some of those are in the first set, since they’re fun to use. You’ll probably have to earn those. That or figure out how to make up your own spells. That... Well, the memory techniques will aid in that, really. Shall we?”

They only went over things for an hour, since Farad realized that they needed the boy to learn how to learn, instead of only how to learn magic, specifically. It was a longer course of study, with more parts involved.

Then before the late meal, Anders sought Prince Nedros, with his magic. The man was there in the palace complex, but when he, leading Prince Lassa, got to the correct door, a very long walk later, the other boy shook his head.

“Father’s offices. Of course. Well...” He called out, instead of knocking or anything like that. “Father? Prince Nedros? We’ve come to find you!”

The words had the curtain at the front of the space pushed aside, about thirty seconds later.

Nedros, his mustache well-groomed and hair shorn on the top of his head, looked ready to strike someone. He actually softened when he noticed who was there, however.

“Andros and Lassy! The very men of the moment. Come, come... Father was just asking if we could have you killed on the front of the war. Unfortunately, that is more or less over, so we’re seeking another place to put you. Is that why you came?”

Anders nodded.

“Minus the death part? Prince Lassa has decided on a military education, so that he’ll at least know what to do that way. For some months, only. Princess Salina and Princess Lissa will need that as well. Command training, as well as the daily work of the military. I’d go along, but I have to head into Modroc, with Princess Sweyn and Prince Erold. Before you ask, Ned, no, I don’t really need to be there. I was asked to go, which seems to be the whole of the reason there.”

Nedros slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to stagger him a bit. It didn’t hurt, being more of a push, to get him past the curtain being held open.

“Yes? I can see taking Lassa, but the girls? Especially Salina...”

He got that idea. No one had mentioned what had been going on that way to him.

“She was on campaign and in battle, up north. Training to be your new apprentice Great One. She had to kill hundreds. Perhaps more than that. She did not fail in that task, though it harmed her soul, as such things do. She’s stronger than when you last saw her. Harder, in a way.”

Instead of calling him a liar, Ned just made a low grunting noise.

“Lissa, as well?”

“No. She helped to build roads and buildings, instead. Lassa is learning magic from her, and at his current pace should be able to aid with that sort of task, in the coming months. That and do some light healing. The others can do much more, of course. Then, they’re both Apprentice Great Ones. More should be expected of them, given that.”

The Sula grinned. It was an honest to goodness, affable, expression. One that seemed fond of his children, for a moment. Then he looked at Lassa, and that faded. Slowly, but it turned from a thing that spoke of love and admiration, to sadness and disappointment. If it was fake, then the man was a master of such things. Anders pretended not to notice it happening.

Not that it mattered. The man clapped then. It was more official seeming than anything Anders had noticed from him before.

“I will ask with some of my generals, if such can be put together. I don’t love the sound of it, but children must grow up sometime. Lassa, you will protect your sisters, if this can be arranged?” The tone spoke of the Sula expecting his own son to throw a fit, or say no.

Prince Lassa seemed displeased, but glanced at Anders, rubbed his face, which was still lumpy with swelling from having been struck many times, and nodded.

“As I can, Father. I should at least see to studying with Lissa. We should get some of the others in for that? Perhaps Anders can pay for it?” There was a dark undertone to the words. It was enough that Nedros actually scowled at the statement.

“Why would Prince Anders do that, in particular? Not that I’ve found him stingy or coin hungry... Is Lissa requiring payment for such tasks, already? With family?”

The Sula, leader of an entire land, actually rolled his eyes.

“Ah... Prince Anders provided a decently large chest of gold and gems to her, to provide for Lassa’s instruction. She was asking me last night if I thought she should give it back, or use it to provide for Barquea’s poor. She understands that it was a bit of a slap at Lassa?” He glanced at Anders.

Who sighed.

“She isn’t wrong. Forgive me Lassa. I fear I was a bit annoyed with you, yesterday. For trying to stab me? I probably shouldn’t have started things by getting Prince Naveed to help me douse you with water. That was...”

Nedros seemed lost, and Lassa deflated a bit.

“I know. I’m sure that Eltha Tennet is a grand woman, if of Modroc. I should have been more polite in my words. Really, with anyone, not just a person from that particular land. A full six people have scolded me over that portion of things already. Only four have done so about trying to end you, Anders, just so you know what people find more important.”

The words were grumpy seeming, and got the boy slapped on the arm, by Nedros.

“Probably because everyone understands that taking on Andros means you dying. Even if you sent teams of people for him, that is the likely outcome. In the future, the appropriate response to a prank, like being hit with some water, is another prank. Not death. This is a discussion that we shouldn’t have to be having, you know that, don’t you, little brother? The penalty for the murder of a Prince of Barquea is death. Even for attempting it and failing. Even for another Prince... How is it that you are alive, exactly?” The man seemed genuinely baffled on that score.

Darian closed his eyes.

“Prince Anders called for that. Even though it might cause a war for us with our friends in Istlan. The Great One, Grandfather Depak, has been speaking with them and their Ambassador here, to smooth things over that way. Things are tense, so far. We might yet have to sacrifice Lassa, to return to normal. This action has done real damage. Two of my own daughters, your sisters, live in that land, as well. A third is still visiting there. They’re at risk, for retaliation over this.” For a moment, the man shuddered, glared at Lassa in near rage, then collected himself and looked at Anders.

After too long a time for comfort, the man sighed. Then he glanced at Nedros.

“I told Anders that I’d drop him to the fiftieth place in the line, if he did this. He said that it was a fair price, for a life...” The man wrinkled his nose and looked at Ned. “It wasn’t until last night that Naveed explained to me that Anders didn’t know that was just a thing we say here, at times. He thought that it was the actual payment for your life, Lassa. For the life of a fool who had tried to murder him. I don’t know if I agree with the idea, but it certainly shows that he isn’t simply trying to climb the ranks with bold moves, doesn’t it Ned?”

The older man stroked his mustache, hiding a grin.

“Hence my suggesting him to be the heir, last year. I can’t see that’s changed, really.”

Sula Darian nodded, and even Lassa, seeming disgusted by the admission, did the same.

Anders cleared his throat then.

“We can’t allow that. Even if I seem helpful and polite. I’m simply not a son of Barquea and never will be. Naveed is the right man for that job. Nedros would be good as well, but is perhaps a bit too hard. Not that there can’t be a place for that. The same for Princess Sendra, though I only met her briefly. She certainly got things done. Princess Aisla is living in a far-off land, which as she has mentioned for herself, many times, removes her from serious consideration for that role. At least if she doesn’t move back here.” He shrugged then. “Her son, my brother, Leopold, is to be the King of Yanse, when he reaches the age of twenty-five. Currently Prince Alpert is the regent there. They can’t leave, given that.”

Everyone looked at him then, strangely, and Anders shrugged, then lied a bit.

Only a little.

“I was offered Yanse, but... I killed tens of thousands of men to take it. They speak my name in fear there. So we’re pressing the job forward. They don’t know that Alpert is my father, there. Not openly. I suggested that I be exiled, so that those of Yanse could rest easy, knowing the monster is banished. That was refused, of course. The Prince and his advisors worried that the Army would follow me, if I left under such a cloud, so I simply went back home, instead.”

Everyone was silent, for a time, then the Sula nodded.

“I understand, Prince Anders. So, you suggest Naveed, Nedros and Sendra? Even over yourself?”

He nodded.

“Truly, that is the better way. Also Princess Lissa, of course. She’s down the list and is youthful at the moment, so should be forced to climb it, but she’s been working constantly, learning and training others, for the last year. Also aiding the poor, and helping to build roads, with her own powers. That isn’t a little thing, either. Not a few hours work that’s being blown out of proportion. She’s constructed entire buildings, large ones, for common people.” Anders snapped his fingers, and smiled suddenly. “Oh, yes. Prince Baret has put together an idea, for renovating some of the palace? Using magic. I was thinking that sounded like a wonderful idea. For practice? If we can do that. If it’s allowed, I mean.”

There was a nod then.

“The old North wing? It’s the most run down. Hardly anyone uses it now, so it will be the least amount of work to clear out, for a time. How long will you need to do the work?”

“It will depend on who decides to help and how large it is, but probably no more than a few weeks. Possibly less than that, of course. We could start in, call it a month? That way we can have Prince Lassa aid with it. Before you go off to the military for training. We’ll need a place for you to practice putting buildings up, Prince Lassa.”

He was jesting, which everyone there seemed to understand. At least they laughed, politely. Even Lassa. It was funny, so Anders smiled as well.

“Now, we should get to meditation work, after a meal. I’ve been working in the city, in the mornings. Oh, may I use the small theater for practice? I have some of the servants aiding me, so I can practice the show I have in mind. Then, if all goes well, I can show you and the others that in, call it three days?”

Nedros glared at him.

“In two? Don’t be lazy, Andros.”

He tilted his head and nodded.

“You know, if I can use that space right now, or after the meal? Lassa can meditate while watching that. It won’t be the same, but...” The boy didn’t need to become a master of the mind, if that was not his way. Learning to be calm and think before acting was probably enough for a minor prince, really.

The rest of the pushing was just to put him around people of discipline, in the hopes that some of that might wear off onto him. It probably wouldn’t last, but he was at an age where things like that could still work. In ten years’ time it would be too late by far. It was close already.

Farad knew that one from his first life.

The boys who tried to come to the hermitage past fourteen or so often didn’t last or adapt very well. Part of that was due to how different a life of contemplation and books was, of course. Lassa just needed to not go around saying the wrong thing or stabbing people. That gave them a while to make things work out.

Also, Anders was leaving soon. He had a job to do with the boy, aiding him in becoming a better person. If he couldn’t do it, then, once he was going, it wasn’t his responsibility any longer. Also, he kind of thought that Sula Darian had given him the task originally as an offhand and non-serious, matter.

A jest, since he was frustrated and didn’t know how to fix his errant son.

At least one didn’t normally dump the problem children on an even younger one, as a rule. Not that Anders had ever heard about. Then, Farad wasn’t a child. Anders was, but even then, he’d been at war. It had changed him and the course of his life, he couldn’t doubt.

Then, the point of a man was to grow and become useful. Doing that a bit early wasn’t a thing to lament. Even if it was a bit annoying, at the moment. He would have liked to spend time with people other than Lassa, if given a choice. Almost anyone, really. It probably was the same going in the other direction, of course.

So, instead of letting the whole thing bother him, Anders sat up straight, which, for some reason, had the Sula smiling at him.

“You’re eager to see to your plans? Very good. Perhaps Prince Lassa should dine with me, this night? Alone. We have much to speak about.” There was a wave at the curtain over the door, telling him to get out.

Anders stood up from the low pillow and left, directly, bowing on the way out. It wasn’t exactly the custom there, but he did manage to bend with his hands out to the sides, instead of using Istlan’s first, or even second, courtly. Before he got too far away, Nedros followed him.

The man seemed annoyed, for some reason. When he closed the distance, his boots loud on the hard stone of the corridor, the tile and white walls echoing with each step, the fellow cleared his throat.

“I fear that no one has truly been considering you in this, Andros. Lassa tried to kill you. Openly and in public. Poorly, it sounds like. That can’t leave you feeling comfortable here. It does happen. Indeed, once every ten years or so, someone believes that getting rid of the competition above them will improve their own chance for the throne. It never does, but people will try, anyway. On occasion, like with you, it was probably a simple grudge. Lassa felt that you and Naveed humbled him, and instead of coming at you like a man, and demanding an apology, or even returning the prank, he sought a darker solution. Princes can be... Well, we aren’t all sweet and kind, like myself and you.”

The dark-skinned man grimaced then.

“I’m not making light of this, even if it seems like it. Father is seeking to save his child, which I understand... Except that it can’t work. Not in the long run. If we allow people to get away with attempting to assassinate others, then everyone will start doing it, knowing that they’re going to be saved from retribution.”

Tightening his face, Anders nodded.

“I can see that happening. I just didn’t want to have his blood on my hands, or force others to do it for me. I’ve killed so much... I fear that it’s made me wrong, inside. That... I know that everyone here has to be thinking that I’m putting forth a show, trying to gain the throne here. I go out and heal, or give coin away freely, and it seems the sort of thing that a person grasping for power might do in this system. Only, it isn’t that...” Sighing, he struggled to breathe, gasping, almost as if crying. Only no moisture hit his cheeks. “I’m just trying to make up for what I’ve done. For those who aren’t alive now, because of me. It... I don’t live in pain from it. Inside, I don’t care at all. A part of me understands how wrong that is. I didn’t want to say it to the Sula, but I can’t be the leader here. Because I’m a monster.”

That got a soft snort.

“Ah, Andros... nephew... The only real difference here is that you and I know we are hard men. Naveed... He’s a good enough sort, but he craves power, truly. We all do, in the top ten. Even little Aisla would take control here, if she could climb the ranks. You, Sendra, myself, Docca... We are those who are, as you mentioned, monsters. We have all stood in battle and ended lives. Often without thinking about it too hard. Lassa is probably one such as we. I... Agree. You are wrong for the title of Sula. So am I. Sendra would have us at war constantly. Doccian... He’s hard, but could do it, if it came to be needed. Naveed is the best choice, for the time being, of course. If you aren’t put forward to make everyone else here work harder. I know that I have been, since meeting you. That... It’s annoying, being in the presence of a person who just keeps doing the right thing, without asking for anything in return, you know that, don’t you?”

It was probably the longest speech he’d ever heard the man make. So he simply nodded at the end.

“I’m sure everyone else feels the same about you and Naveed.”

That got the larger man to stop and slap his thigh, laughing loudly. It was a booming thing that disturbed the entire world, or so it felt.

“Ha! I wager they do feel that way. Now, you’re putting forward Lissa? She’s young for it, but if she’s doing the work, we should help her along. Salina, as well? I’ve heard some things there, as hard as they are to credit.”

“Salina is doing well, actually. I’m not suggesting that we put the main Apprentice of the Great One forward. It’s a bit like the problem with Sendra or you. Only, with a bit more whining and fit throwing at times. Not that she’s been bad, lately. I’m still wary there.”

That, apparently, was funny, since the man laughed. Then waved to the side.

“I’m down this way. We should speak, in some days.” Then he clomped off, his hard soled boots making a sound that faded in the distance.

Finding himself free that night, Anders ate quickly, then mentioned to Tena that he was going to be practicing in the small theater, having permission for that. It gave him a full hour to practice, before the servants came, with nearly a hundred and fifty men, women and children coming in to help him prepare for the real show.

It was the same one he’d done on the ship, only in Barquean and with better music and also improved interactions, when people touched things. It was hard, but he’d worked out how to cause scents to release when the plants and objects were touched. Some of those were a bit off still, being a little too strong. For instance, if a rock was picked up, it resisted and felt real, if a bit light. It would smell like dirt. A thing that was a lot like a freshly plowed field. A real rock would be similar, but in a much lighter fashion.

Then, he was attempting to make the whole thing better than real, not just like they sat in a different place that was ordinary and boring. The whole thing took about forty minutes, and once again, he was left covered in sweat and gasping for breath at the end. He cleaned himself before the lights came back up, showing the theater around them, instead of the clearing and strange forest in the distance. The room suddenly seemed tiny, even if that wasn’t the real truth.

It just wasn’t outdoors.

There was silence for a moment. One that was long enough he wasn’t certain if they’d hated the thing or not. Just as he was about to ask what he needed to fix for them, the room erupted. There was actual screaming, pounding on tables and stomping. It went on for a while, as well. Nearly five minutes.

Finally, he waved at them, since their hands were going to start hurting, if they didn’t stop.

“Thank you. Now, if any of you have anything that you’d like to see, or that I should add, to make this better, please feel free to approach me at any time. That or send a note?”

One of the men, a fellow he’d never seen before, waved at him.

“Are you doing a show in the city again?”

He nodded.

“Yes, though not like this. The magics for that would kill me. Something better than the last one, though?”

“Ah, excellent. We can put the word around? When are you free for that?”

“Oh... Call it a week?” That would give him some time to plan, at least. He had his healing to see to, in the mornings, and eventually wanted to actually see some of his friends. They were there so that Eltha could pick who she wanted to marry, and that could, he didn’t doubt, take a while. If nothing else, she needed to make certain that it seemed like she was testing things carefully and not just tossing a good candidate for such things aside.

Not that Anders had spoken to her, or anyone, on such a topic. Indeed, he hadn’t seen hardly anyone, for the last days, other than Lassa, the public and the guards who went with him each morning. That was, he feared, the price of being busy.

After returning to his room, he was able to plan some things out, do his bow work and go over fighting techniques, if from memory and on his own. A real practice would have been nice, but he doubted he had time for that, for a while. Instead, he worked on other, less martial things. Illusions, mainly.

Trying to work out how to make water feel wet, for instance. He had a version of that, but needed at least four or five. Also a way to make the air feel thick and moist. Fog as well. There was a lot to see to, so he spent the time before he slept on that. Knowing it was, for the time being, his prime occupation.

Well, that and attempting to reform Lassa.

That part of things, his feelings there, had been well buried. Part of him hated the other boy. Not for trying to kill him, either. He was just annoying. True, Nedros felt that way about him, but Anders thought that one was due to him not seeming right for the world he stood in. He was supposed to be a pampered and spoiled prince. At the very least a mere boy, who, even if he tried hard, couldn’t be that accomplished in almost anything.

Except that he wasn’t that at all. He was a boy, true, but also an old man. One who had lived in discipline for nearly a hundred years, before he’d died. Only, of course, even though he still recalled it that way, Farad Ibn Istel had lived and gone on to become a very different person than Anders ever would be.

Still, he wasn’t just some child who had shown up and needed to be guided by his uncle. He was a man, in many ways. One who expected himself to be that, even if no one else around him truly did. So he worked, and did what was needed to succeed in his tasks. Even if he hadn’t chosen them. Which, if Lassa was what the man had expected to meet, had to seem incredibly off or wrong.

“Hence, annoying.”

Getting to work, he focused on illusion for the time being. Both on the coming show he had planned, and the larger thing for the people of the city. To do that one right, he was going to need some preparation, he realized. The raw size, and projecting the sounds correctly for the people at the back, without deafening those near the front, would be difficult to come up with. It meant he needed to walk that area of the event first, if he could ever make the time for it.

Still, as he drifted off to sleep, he felt fairly content, that night. Oh, he wasn’t ready for everything in the world, but he had a good enough start, really. It meant he was well rested, when he pulled himself from under the covers, a single thin sheet, at first light.

Almost directly as he did, there was a tapping at his door.

He hurried to open, it, to find Depak Sona standing there, arrayed in slightly shining clothing, with complicated and new seeming patterns.

“Ah, Anders! I’ve been missing you for some days. You’re heading into the city for healing work?”

“Shortly. Is there something I can help you with, first?” He grinned. “Room cleaning, say? I have a nice Prince Lassa I can recommend to that task. At least he should be able to do that using magic now. For practice?”

The older man made a hard face, but nodded.

“Probably not that. Lissa is pleased with his progress, which is surprising. No, it’s merely that everyone wants to make certain you’re doing well? This has... Not been the best of trips, so far.”

That was true, but Anders knew that doing anything except focusing on improving things was wasted time.

“I’m fine, really. Busy, but that’s just me, you know?”

The other man nodded, seeming honestly pleased by the words.

“Oh, I truly do, Anders. I truly do know that one.”

Chapter ten

A week later, Anders having performed all of the illusion events that he intended to for the time being, he walked through the early morning streets of the city feeling fairly decent. It was a bit strange, since along with his two guards he had Princess Lissa, Princess Salina and Prince Erold, which meant several more of the stern seeming guards traveled along as well, but it was good to finally have people to talk to again.

Lissa didn’t wait to explain.

“Lassa asked for the morning off, to see to some things. He’s learned a lot of magic in the last two weeks, so it seemed fair. I pressed him, so...” She clearly felt a bit off about that. “He’s held to twenty new magical signals or phrases each day, the whole time. That’s a lot.”

Anders could see that, really. He’d done more, but even then, he’d taken days off to do other things on occasion, as well.

Salina cleared her throat.

“I haven’t been making Liasa work that hard. Ten a day, so it’s real work, but we’re generally done before the mid-day meal. Should I press her harder, do you think, Anders?”

He actually considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

“Honestly, no. Lassa is doing something very different than she is. If it takes her a few months to get up to speed, then no harm done. Truly, you probably don’t need to push Lassa that hard either. We just need to find other things for him to be doing. I heard that all of you will be going off to see General Sendra soon? With instructions to learn every military task on the base, as well as improve structures and so forth? That sounds... Well, perhaps not fun, but like good experience.” Which was the real point. “Is Depak Sona traveling that way as well? I’d be going, except that I’m requested to go to Modroc. For some reason. One that I can’t really explain, so far.”

Salina nodded in his general direction.

“Well, the second part is easy enough to answer. They want to get you to move there. That or to agree to allow students from Modroc into your grand academy. They don’t have our style of magic there, really, but they aren’t afraid of it, either, from what I can tell. It’s the sensible thing to do. Plus, Princess Sweyn requested you come. That...” She smirked then, but didn’t go on.

Thankfully.

Lissa cleared her throat, like an ancient being who was tired of listening to the children prattle on about nonsense.

“Depak Sona is going with us, I believe? Mainly to get away from here. It... Being in Lo’usa Tet isn’t that grand for him, really. Even as Princesses, we can simply walk into the city and no one will bother us. Not past watching where we go. He’s positively thronged, almost constantly.”

They’d all seen that, so simply moved along, in the early morning light. When they got to his tiny, three level, healing shop, Salina smiled.

“Not horrible work. A bit lacking on the artistry, isn’t it? Did you put water in?”

He had. It was just a cistern on the top of the building, which he’d filled with magic. He waved to show all of that off, after they got inside. It really was a bit plain. Then, he wasn’t planning to be there for years or anything like that, so it made some sense not to waste a lot of time or effort on the appearance of things.

The real interesting portion of the day was that, instead of going off to shop, even for their upcoming trip, everyone there worked on healing, taking turns, and consulting with each other, when it was needed. Erold did a lot of the work himself, meaning Lissa got bored, and started to use magic to create some simple, but attractive, patterns on the walls, on the inside. They were mainly squares inside rectangles, but actually grew out of the wall, seeming smooth and perfect, as if carved by a master, in stone. Then, with some help from Salina, they made the things change color, finally picking a blue, green and white motif for the place.

“That should be calming.” Anders looked at everyone, then realized he was going to need more cups and plates. Food, as well. “Who’s going to get the food? I have some coin for that.”

Salina, seeming much put upon, as if Anders had been asking her to do the work, personally, made a pained noise.

“Fine. I’ll go out into the heat and find something. When I’m followed around, by all the adoring subjects, it will be your doing though, Anders. We could just send one of these others to do it, couldn’t we?”

Anders forced a smile. Not because Salina wasn’t jesting. She was and her tone and face told everyone of that, very clearly. No, it was because he was too used to having to hear such things from Lassa, who actually meant them.

“You want to deprive people of glimpsing your beauty? That’s a bit low of you, Princess Salina. No, you do that, while Prince Erold and Princess Lissa see to the healing and I’ll make more cups and plates for us to eat off of?”

She chuckled, but accepted the small sack of coins that Anders had with him, easily enough. She took the whole thing, but then, if she bought some things they didn’t need, it wasn’t the end of all that existed. He could still afford to do things like that and rarely had been.

Lissa on the other hand, as well as Salina, had both been spending their coin on helping others. They weren’t even putting the word out about it. Anders had to learn of it from Prince Naveed, who had it from Sulana Meegan. She’d only learned of it when Salina had told her about how kind Lissa was being. It was bragging, after a fashion, but wasn’t hiring singers to walk behind her calling out praises as she walked.

Salina winked at him.

“That is true, isn’t it? I should give them a chance to see me. Now, I shouldn’t be gone too long. Half an hour or so?” She simply started to leave, meaning that two of the guards, both in tan, though it wasn’t matching at all, followed her, without asking if they should.

Mikail the guard nodded as Anders watched them leave.

“This is a safe enough place. We simply don’t want trouble.”

It hadn’t been a question in his own mind, but he could see that as being valid. It bothered him a bit that guards followed him, but the others there didn’t really seem to notice it as being strange. Not even Prince Erold.

Anders did his own hopping up, to go and do that magic, outside. Mikail followed him, but alone, into the heat of the day. That was getting almost oppressive, even if it was early in the year. Not even true summer yet.

In the distance there was music playing. It was happy sounding, but unusual, as far as Anders had noticed. The market didn’t have entertainments, really. Not that had come near where he was set up. As he worked, several of the local vendors came over, seeming a bit diffident, for some reason.

One of them, an older woman, who Anders had helped with joint troubles about five days before, moved inside and ducked her head.

“Cart Boy Sona? It’s Volentide... We were wondering if you’d stay and join the celebration, later? It’s just marking the coming of summer. There will be music and dancing. Fruit and sweets to eat. If you’d enjoy such a thing, I mean?” She seemed to think that wasn’t going to happen.

Mikail frowned and looked ready to harm people if they didn’t leave, as well. The men in back seemed to take it that way and started to do just that, when Anders spoke.

“I don’t know that one. Volentide? Is there something I should do, to be festive? Special clothing or... Perhaps a small show of some sort? Nothing big. Some illusions? Music?” He glanced at everyone, including Mikail, who cleared his throat.

“That should be fine, Prince Anders. Perhaps some more brilliant clothing?”

Everyone stood there, seeming shocked, for a moment. Even if he was pretty certain that they understood who the straw headed healer actually was. That meant they thought Mikail was being rude, calling him a prince. It was a cute idea, if not the truth.

The man was, clearly, trying to remind him of what was appropriate. A thing that he didn’t truly know, not being from there. Or even a real Prince of Istlan.

So he clapped a few times, slowly.

“A small show, just for those of you here, on the street? Call me Cart Boy, though, so I don’t accidently embarrass the Sula? We should... Well, we probably can’t stay long. After the meal?”

Everyone agreed with that, more or less, and walked away, not bothering with bows at all. He finished making the plates and then did an extra twenty sturdy cups, which ended up seeming to be made of fired clay, being formed of dirt as they were. He made them all white, with a nice blue and green flowing pattern to them, so that they matched the building. The inside, at least.

That meant he was still working when Salina and her two friends walked up. Each loaded down with various food, in baskets that had probably been purchased for that purpose, as well as a decent sized cask of something that he hoped was juice. Salina was carrying her share, even, and smiling at him, fairly prettily.

“I forgot that it’s Volentide. I was thinking that we should hire some musicians to play for everyone? There’ll be a celebration at the palace, later in the day, but we’re here, so it would be a nice thing, for those in the market?” She seemed ready to argue the point.

Anders just nodded.

“I was also going to do a small bit of illusion, after we eat? Just to entertain people. You can help with that?”

“All right. That sounds fun. I can spend some of your coin on this? I didn’t bring any of my own. I’m trying to be a bit less spoiled, so... Naturally that means getting you to waste your riches on what I want... I guess we shouldn’t do that part with the musicians, given that?”

He shrugged.

“I have a bit more inside, in a box. It won’t hurt to spend a little. I don’t need much, so I haven’t really been doing that.”

Mikail looked around then, and then stared at Anders.

“Hire three sets, and have them move to the other quarters of the market? That will pull some of the people from here. Also, you have enough to pay for treats and drinks?”

He doubted that, but shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ll pass the coin to Salina, and you can help her decide how to spend it?”

That seemed to work, even if Mikail seemed suddenly edgy, as if he’d spoken on the wrong topic and now people were going to be angry with him. Spending the coin put it into the hands of people who would use it to feed their families, though, so it wasn’t going to be about that, specifically. He truly did have more. Even there, in the shop. At least he was only planning to hand over the little box of coins. When he did that, no one gasped in shock at the massive wealth he was sharing, but there was no indication that he was stinting the public, either.

Salina just took it, set the small wooden box aside, and ate, with the rest of them. Since it was time to do that. You didn’t get up and go to play or even work during a meal. Not unless it was an emergency. When they finished and Lissa cleaned up for everyone, Salina and her guard friends went out into the market again.

Then, instead of a calm, tiny event, with him doing some small illusions for twenty people, the girl and Prince Erold ruined his whole plan, by making a large earthen container, easily big enough for four horses to drink from, and then filling the things with half hand sized pieces of ice. With a sign saying it was free, for the celebration.

It was hot out, so people started to come for the free treat, almost instantly.

As Anders started to make those illusions, wondering if anyone was going to notice, at all. They did, as it turned out. When Salina came back, there being music in the distance drew some people off. Mainly because it was too crowded around him to really see anything. Anders took to making floating amusements, so that people could see them, over the heads of others.

Large, impressively glowing birds, rainbows that followed certain people around and finally, a massive seeming rain storm, that only covered a small area. The people under it felt the rain, but when it stopped, they weren’t even damp.

People liked all of that, but they were happy with the hired musicians and loved the free ice. At mid-afternoon, almost at the normal closing time for the small healing shop, they walked back to the palace. No one followed them, or begged for coins or favors at all. Both Salina and Lissa were asked to dance however, and Salina was asked a question by a man that had her making an upset face, while the fellow and his friends laughed. At least until they noticed the guards. Then the young men scurried off as if they might just be about to die.

Most of the trip back was normal enough. Even getting through the gate, just using the front one, was fine. It wasn’t until they were in the main palace building, where they were all staying, that they heard the yelling. It wasn’t screaming, but it wasn’t festive sounding, either. More like commands being called out, in deep voices.

Mikail waved at a guard who was running past.

“What has transpired?”

The man, a younger fellow, with dark skin and a red silk outfit on, looked pained.

“Prince Naveed has been stabbed. Many times.” He seemed bleak, as if it was dire and not something easily fixed.

Anders fixed him with a gaze.

“Where?”

The man swallowed.

“In the back, near the neck, and over his chest. I couldn’t tell much else.”

He nearly snapped but didn’t waste the time.

“Understood. Where is he now? We have several healers here.” That was more or less a simple fact. Salina wasn’t the best healer in the world, but she was far from the worst, at the same time. Anders sounded almost calm about the whole thing.

The red guard fellow went wide eyed.

“His quarters. This way!”

They ran then. All of them. There were several people in with the Prince, but he was still alive, and on his bed, face down, as they tried, and failed, to stop the bleeding using towels and compresses.

“Move in... Three... Two... One!”

He readied the spells then, chanting them without stopping.

“Nisk soloa, fen!” It was a stopgap measure only, but the skin sealed, stopping the loss of blood. The hundred or so wounds closed, though Anders knew that wasn’t going to stop the internal bleeding.

He worked on that then, which took a very long time. Repairing the small veins and tiny internal structures, then removing the scars that he’d just made. Not for vanity reasons, but because at least some of them were going to cut off blood flow. Then he had to repair the fine fibers that were needed for instructions inside the body.

It meant searching with his mind, focusing on a level that caused the rest of the room to vanish, after a fashion. He was no longer aware of it, at any rate. All of this went on for a long time. So much so that there was no daylight left when he finally broke from the trance. Prince Naveed alive and healed.

Lissa was by his side, so he nodded.

“Now we see if the blood loss was too great. Can you drink water or other fluids, do you think?” That was for the Prince, who coughed, lightly. It wasn’t pained sounding. Not now. It had been. Even after the wheezing had stopped.

Still, it was very soft.

“I think I can, Prince Anders. Thank you for your timely assist...” The man passed out then, from exhaustion.

“We’ll need water. Soft foods as well, if he can eat at all. He’s fine though, I think. I mean, he’ll live, now. Being attacked isn’t a good thing, even if the wounds are gone. Did anyone see who did it?”

The answer to that was simply no. Not that it took hours to find a suspect. Actually, he asked after the same person that Lissa did, as Salina hissed and Erold closed his eyes. It wasn’t to hide from anything, either.

“Is Prince Lassa available?” He didn’t make an accusation of it, since crimes didn’t work that way. It was just the last person he’d seen who had been a bit stab prone and who might have a grudge against Naveed.

Then, it could also have been someone else, simply capitalizing on that idea. One of the servants ran off, calling out as they did.

“Prince Lassa! You are summoned to Prince Naveed’s chamber!” It was loud, though polite sounding, at the same time.

There was no response. Not even some half hour later, when Depak Sona and Sula Darian arrived, with several women and men behind them, standing in the hallway.

Darian looked hard, as if fighting tears, and visibly relaxed when Naveed opened his eyes and smiled. That was a bit weak, but only a little.

“Father! I didn’t see who did it. I was hit, from behind and went down. Someone behind my door, I think. I... Truly, I didn’t see who it was. There was a call for Prince Lassa, which hasn’t been answered, as of yet?”

Anders nodded, since it wasn’t a vast stretch, to imagine he might have something to do with such an attack.

“Which could mean anything. He might be off in the city, celebrating the day. That or going over his magical skills. He asked for the day off, and that was granted, so it isn’t at all impossible that he is simply relaxing out of earshot. We...” Anders looked at the others there, and finally locked eyes with Depak Sona. “Would you locate him, using wizardry? I can do it, but...”

The old man didn’t make him ask twice. There was, instead, a simple nod.

“I understand. If you do it, then it might seem as if you are proclaiming him guilty or innocent, having recently been his master. These others are all closer to him than I am, if it is the worst case. One moment while I ready myself.”

Instead of walking into the hallway, Depak went outside, through a window, climbing out awkwardly, since he was in a trance, then he pointed upward, at the roof. That was flat at the top and no more than fifteen feet up.

There was no speaking. Not even whispering. Others tried to speak, to ask what was meant, but the man held up his right hand, palm out. Then he pointed at Anders, to indicate who needed to deal with things.

“Andersana fla fen ot...” He rose into the air, after whispering the words just loud enough for even he to hear. Then, after a rising high enough, he dropped, but only about a foot.

“Fen.”

Then he had to fight, since clearly they’d made too much noise and the masked Prince, dressed as he had been a few weeks before, suddenly attacked.

With magic, but only using odd spells that weren’t as effective as they might have been. For instance, Anders was hit with a powerful blast of light, but not even pushed back, which might well have made him fall. Lassa didn’t try flying away either, using the hand signal for that.

An idea that would have had Anders rolling his eyes, if not for the fact that he was in a fight. One where, he supposed, not killing the other man was the best plan. They needed to find out what he knew, first. Instead of doing that, making him burn or explode, Anders called out a simple spell, and hit the boy in the head ten times, as if with a phantom fist. It didn’t take him into unconsciousness, but it did distract him long enough for Anders to move on him, and kick him soundly between the thighs.

He dropped, and started crying.

A thing that didn’t stop, even when Anders stripped his blades away, and then kicked him over the side of the building. He lived. Mainly because Lissa caught him. Using magic, of course.

“Hom fla fen!” That wasn’t bad, for a thing called out without preparation, Anders had to think. It didn’t make the man fly, but it stopped him about three quarters of the way to the ground, and while he landed with a thump, it was only that and not his neck breaking.

Anders jumped down, making the complicated hand gesture he wanted with his left hand and pointing it upward. He drifted to the Earth below, rather gently. Settling without even the sound a single step might make. Only to find that Lassa was floating again. This time about ten feet up, instead of over fifteen.

Sula Darian was pointing at him, clearly being the one doing the magic. He was gasping for breath already, however.

“How dare you! After Prince Anders saved your life. Do you at least deny that you tried to murder my Heir?”

Instead of simply denying things, the crying, sobbing, prince said the wrong thing.

“He should not be your Heir! Of all here, only I am fit to rule! Now, let me down and step aside, so that I can do a good job, leading this land that you have failed, Father!”

Anders, and the Farad inside of him agreed with the idea, knew that not speaking was the better part of decorum, at that moment. They both kept their mouths well closed. It was then, Princess Salina who spoke, aiming her words at Depak Sona.

“He’d seem far more regal if he could manage saying that without the gasping and crying, don’t you think, Great One?”

The Sula, clearly not pleased, but pushed to his own magical limits already, let the boy drop. He was still alive at the end, as shown by the crying. A thing which was getting annoying.

Sula Darian huffed and heaved, fighting being ill from the work he’d just done. When he could speak, half a minute later, it was still broken. Also raw sounding. As if he’d been screaming, instead of just breathing hard.

“There can be no more chances. Forgive me, please, Prince Anders. I know that you risked much to save him. It was, it seems, a mistake to try. Lassa, prince of Barquea no longer, you are sentenced to death. That shall take place in the morning. Guards! Arrest Lassa and throw him in the tightest cell. He cannot be allowed to escape.”

It was an odd thing to bring up. At least Anders didn’t get it. Everyone else there seemed to, however. Even Erold, who was as strange to Barquea and their customs as Anders, frowned after a moment. It was Depak Sona who fixed him with a gaze and acted as if his lack of response meant something more than it did.

“He was given a chance once, when you stepped in for him. That will not be allowed again.” The look with it was hard, as if the Sula hadn’t already told him that.

He nearly gave a smart answer and mentioned that he wasn’t known for going around and saving people, in particular. It had happened a few times but the ledger read the other way thousands of times and only two or three toward the more positive. Instead of saying that, he pretended to feel sad, as if rescue had been his real plan.

It wasn’t.

His failure had nearly cost Naveed his life that day, already. Adding to that would aid no one.

“I understand. Am I... to end his life?”

Everyone looked at him as if he were an idiot then. Except for Salina.

“No. We have people for that. You aren’t to be punished for this. It wasn’t your fault.”

Prince Lassa was taken away, a man on either arm and a woman in a robe standing behind him, by about ten paces, ready to cast spells, if it became needed. It made sense that the palace would have people like that, but Anders hadn’t been introduced to any, so far.

“Isn’t it my fault? I was given the task of helping him become a better person and failed. How is that not my responsibility?”

Sula Darian, a tear running down his cheek, shook his head.

“No, Anders. You were his keeper for some days. I his father for his entire life. If there is blame here, it lies with me. We... I’m sorry, I can’t do this at the moment. Will you see to Naveed, Salina? Perhaps, a meal later, Prince Erold? Thank you for coming to aid us in this dire time. I’m... Forgive me.” The man hurried off then, as if to hide his tears.

Anders simply looked at the ground then, not knowing what was needed. He tried to make something up, but simply faltered in the attempt and ended up standing there for some minutes, like everyone else was.

Salina finally made a face.

“Anders, Lissa, will you help me with Naveed? He should be safe enough, but... This could be part of a larger plot. We need to be on our guard.”

He took a moment, then nodded, falling into a wizard’s trance.

“I’m not getting any danger, for the moment. I’ll do a scan every hour or so.” That wasn’t exactly the case, since Lassa was in danger. A lot of it, in fact. That resonated with a part of Anders’ mind, since he desperately wanted to make certain the boy didn’t escape.

Which led him, standing there, to dive deeper into the dark tunnels of his own mind. Some while later, Depak Sona was shaking him gently, by the right arm.

“I’ll handle that. One can hardly blame a mother for trying. It simply cannot be allowed this time.” The Magician ran off then, with Anders wondering what he’d said.

He was led inside, by the arm. Through the window. They just climbed in, instead of using magic to float the four feet into the air. It was more awkward than it had to be, but he allowed it. After all, everyone was probably a bit out of sorts. Anders certainly was.

“I spoke of something?”

Prince Erold understood his words and their secret meaning, so explained.

“Lassa’s mother and an aunt of his already plot to remove him tonight and whisk him to the countryside, where he might hide. As Depak mentioned, one cannot truly blame a parent for such thinking. It’s... He tried to kill two different people. Certainly, the first one was you, Anders, so you might choose to let that pass. He tried to murder the Heir, in a foolish hope he could take over. Which, if I understand the system here, would take nearly fifty others dying first? That wouldn’t work. Not without an army at his back, when he made his demands. Even then, I’d have to think he’d die in the attempt. Instead, he just gets to die.”

That the boy was a fool was in there. Except that it wasn’t true. Not truly. He was well educated, intelligent enough and in the end, entitled and simply wrong about how the world worked. Everyone else could see it, but to Lassa his plans had probably made complete sense.

For a moment, as they walked into the room, still covered with blood, Anders wondered what he could have done to stop it from taking place.

Then, as he started to clean, using magic, he understood something. Chances were, he couldn’t have stopped it at all. Even moving Lassa to a military camp would have only slowed him for a while. Why that was, he didn’t understand. After all, he didn’t mind killing, most of the time and could see it as a valid measure. Even if you had to kill fifty-eight people to reach your goal.

His issue was that Anders couldn’t see how the boy had tricked himself into believing that kind of thing could actually work. He would have never done the same thing, because it would be stopped or blocked too easily. Also, when the first one or two people died, people were going to start noticing and taking precautions. They already were, after all, and no one was even dead, yet.

That would be taking place.

Even if Anders had to make certain of it himself.

Chapter eleven

Anders had expected to find himself alone, standing outside the palace, before light even came, that day. He was, as he was well aware, probably making himself seem like a ghoul of legend, waiting for a life to be taken, for his own amusement. That his real goal was different than that, to only make certain that Prince Lassa wasn’t allowed to escape and therefore come back at them again, later, might well be missed by the good people of Barquea.

Instead, he found himself in a courtyard, near where the boy was being held, ready to fight anyone who came to steal him away under cover of darkness. He wasn’t alone, either. There were ten guards, all of them as sleepless as he was, around the edge of the building. All of them seemed uneasy, as well, though Mikail had waved to him, and nodded. Seeming to understand his reasoning. At least he might have. It was that or the man thought his plan was very different, and he agreed with it.

If so, he was in for a disappointing morning.

At an hour before the sun was set to rise, he was joined by several others. The guards stiffened, at first, as did Anders, until he realized who was there. Depak Sona, Princess Salina and Princess Lissa. He frowned at all of them, but then shook his head.

“I understand why you have all come. I would have spared Lissa this duty, but...” He looked away then. “But you’re also an Apprentice Great One, so need to be here, even if it’s brutally hard to see to your own brother this way.” He glared a bit, at Depak.

The look he got in return was equally hard.

“Truly, Anders... I brought her in case we had to fight you, to see justice done. Note, I did not insist my father be here? Or Martya? They would, perhaps, fall in on your side too easily, no matter what you ask for. If I may, what plans do you have here?”

All three of them looked at him, as if he hadn’t been there all night already. As if, had it been his wish, he couldn’t have walked into the cell, through the very wall, and flown away with the boy within. Still, he blinked for a bit, into the darkness.

“I’m here to make certain the Sula’s will is carried out. It’s a dark thing, but Lassa didn’t just try to kill his brother, he functionally did it. If I’d been delayed by more than a moment on the trip back from the market, he’d be dead right now. I understand that we can’t be everywhere, so, I’m not blaming myself for that, but I was the one tasked with helping him correct his behavior and I...” Anders cleared his throat, choking up more than he probably had any right to. “I failed. I don’t even really know what I’d thought to do. I’d... Most people, when they learn self-discipline and control over a field or skill, they tend to simply become... If not good, then not so much of a problem for others. Lassa didn’t leave enough time for that to happen.”

It was all true enough, but he felt horrible, saying such things in front of the man’s own sisters and his great-great grandfather. Then it occurred to him that Lassa was, by their rules, his own side-uncle. Family. Enough so that he was being included in that way, without anyone screaming that he, an outsider, didn’t belong there. So far, anyway. That would probably come, at some point. Even if it was only out of anger.

Depak, seeming hard, instead of sad, nodded. It was a slow thing, barely seen in the dark of the night.

“No one blames you for what he did.”

Salina spoke then, her own words more subdued sounding than the men she was with.

“That’s a simple truth. You fought to save him. You gave your own time and effort in that attempt and paid for special lessons in magic for him. After he tried to kill you. That was... It was real, wasn’t it? A lot of people wondered if he’d been playing and got caught up, or someone had put him up to it, as a prank. It’s rare, but people here can do that kind of thing, from time to time, meaning only to be humorous. It’s... I think we don’t always assume that consequences are real. Not for us. So a thing like a knife in the gut can be laughed at, because, why, won’t the healer simply come and fix it for us?”

Which, after a fashion was what had happened with Naveed.

“I can see that, for me. I wasn’t harmed at all, and Lassa had been thrashed for it and humbled in public for the attempt. Then, not wanting more death in my life, I made a mistake and tried to fix things. Even now, I wonder, if I’d had more time, or... I don’t know.”

Depak Sona turned to look at the building where Lassa was being held.

“We never will. Not truly. Now we must make certain he cannot act again. There will be ceremonies, to ensure he does not come back as a restless spirit, seeking vengeance. Then he will be beheaded, as dawn breaks. There will almost certainly be an attempt to free him. He isn’t a popular prince, but out of two hundred he managed to work to fifty-ninth place. That speaks of a certain amount of favor, from the Sula.”

The words were poised, and carefully spoken. Anders moved to Istlan, for the question they brought forth from his mind.

“You fear the Sula will have him removed from justice? Can’t he simply order that?”

Princess Lissa rolled her eyes, and snorted softly. It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally would have done, being most polite and considerate of others. That meant either he was being incredibly foolish, or she was truly stressed by the happenings of the day as well.

“Oh, Father could order that done... If he wished to lose Barquea and probably find a blade in his own back, inside the week. Naveed is his named heir. Allowing someone to kill him, or even to try to do that would be disastrous amongst his own people. Even looking the other way when it happened to you caused ripples of dissent and worry, Anders. You’re ten away from the seat of power right now and still half the generals in the army were asking if they needed to overthrow the Sula. Only the fact that you, publicly, asked for a chance to redeem Lassa caused them to hold their hands. This... I hate it, but Lassa did this to himself.” She growled a bit, a low and frustrated sound. “Which is why I had to come, to fight you, if you tried to take him away.”

There was no speaking for a long time, then, in the end, she grinned.

“I was counting on the fact that I’m your favorite, to prevent my death, in case you were wondering how I expected to make that work.”

The words seemed a bit out of place. For one thing, Anders knew that he couldn’t defeat even Depak Sona in a battle of magic. He could, perhaps, take Salina, being a better fighter than she was, but even that might well end in his own death, even as he took hers.

Lissa was young. Also incredibly talented and powerful, at the same time.

“There’s that, but it won’t happen. As odd as it sounds, trying to be a good person caused this to happen now. The Sula might have wanted it, at the time, but I was the one who made the mistake.”

He looked down, which had Salina touching him on the shoulder, gently.

“Hey! None of that now. Even I can see that this is the kind of thing that we all have to do, time and again, in hopes that it will work. That there are some mistakes that people are supposed to make. Being too kind, to a person who may not deserve it, is one of those things. If the spoiled princess can see that, certainly you can, Anders Sona. You were the one who showed me that lesson, after all.”

It was a thing that he also knew, on some level. Depak heaved a large sigh, then touched his well-groomed mustache.

“Well spoken, Salina. A good thing to remind us all of. Still, now that we know what we do about the boy, we must see to protecting the world from him.”

They stood in silence, without lights, for a long time. At half an hour before true light, just as the holy men and women came to say their prayers for the dead over Lassa, a group of nine armed men, with horses and a wagon, rushed into the courtyard.

Depak waved in their direction.

“Try not to harm them? Salina, if you’d disable the wagon? Take the wheels off, perhaps. Princess Lissa, if you could handle the horses? Remove the saddles, by breaking the straps. Anders...”

Anders had already started a spell though, so the older man fell silent.

“Swa et li swa, ere ot ere, seve foru, fen.” He was tense and it showed in his voice.

Then, after finishing the whisper, seeking all of the men, who were about a hundred feet away, with his mind, to show where the spell needed to go, all of their blades, knives and swords, fell into four, fairly even, pieces. It made a bit of a clatter. Then, as they tried to run, their saddles came apart, as Lissa did her own muttering and wizard seeking.

Finally, nearly a minute later, Salina caused the wagons wheels to fall off, with a crash. Even though all of the men had been taken at sword edge by the real guards there.

Depak gave her a long-suffering look. She simply looked away.

“They were too far away, I had to use that trick with the wizard location, to do it. Which, I mean you two did faster. I’m just not as good, I guess.”

For some reason Depak seemed almost angry, as if doing it that way, using wizard skills to extend personal range, was normal, and should have been her first thought. Anders didn’t disagree, but making too large of a deal of it could harm her education, instead of it being a lesson that aided her in the future.

“You did it though and can already do it faster, next time. Now that you know to keep that ready all the time. We can practice a bit, but you probably already have that one now.” It was more or less the truth.

Unless the girl was distracted by the death of one of her own brothers, which was to happen shortly.

The would-be saviors, who were other guards from the palace, as it turned out, probably put up to the task by a Sulana, if not more than one, were simply held in a group to one side. They weren’t even tied up or guarded closely. Then, they were more or less totally disarmed. Unless one of them knew some magic, of course.

Anders had thought of it, so turned to the others.

“Salina, can you watch those men, using your mind? For magic or further rescue attempts. If anything starts to happen, you handle it? Try to do so without death, if at all possible?” Anders didn’t know what would happen to the guards who had gone against the Sula’s wishes like that.

It could be death. If so, then they would be well motivated to do everything they could, not to fail.

The Princess crossed her arms over her thin robe. She did it as if she was cool, which made sense. Anders wasn’t bothered by it, but the night wasn’t warm, really.

“As a punishment for taking too long to do the wagon wheels? I’d complain and ask if you could do any better, but I know that you really can, so it takes all the fun out of it.”

Anders shook his head.

“Not that one. You’re an Apprentice Great One. You aren’t scolded for your failures. You’re simply expected to correct them and move on as quickly as possible. The scoldings will be saved for the big things and matters of principal.” He didn’t let himself smile. “The bad part of that is that you’re pretty much never allowed to be lazy again, either. I’m just making these rules up now, but they kind of make sense. The title isn’t Halfway Good One, after all.” It wasn’t humorous at all, but Depak managed a rather grim smile.

“I agree, if you both do, girls? It makes much more sense than me having to feign being upset about you being slow on doing a thing that took me until last year to learn to do myself. A hard path is being set, however.”

Both Princesses seemed to think for a bit, then both nodded.

Salina spoke as well, explaining her own thoughts.

“Agreed. I’ve probably not been taking this seriously, so far. I can do better. So, I’m on the errant guards. Lissa, would you watch the Sendeks?”

Anders had been to Barquea before, so understood that those were the magical priests and priestesses who handled the dead and those about to die. Blessing them with a better life, or cursing them to a lesser one, on their return. They also prevented people from returning as dark entities, Anders thought. Devica, except that Barquea tended to think of such things as fearful beings, not potential friends. Slough or Sluoagh. Slough meant only spirit, but the latter word was basically calling the being evil for its very nature.

If that was how one thought of such things, making certain people wouldn’t return as one to harm you made a certain sense.

There was a clutch of people there, dressed in robes, with no use of a torch or light, other than that of the sun. They moved into a semi-circle, and stood there, as Lassa, no longer a prince, was brought out to be taken care of. He was blessed by the clergy, his spirit asked to do only good and not return, as he cried, rather piteously.

When a commotion came from around the corner of the building, the Sula, his wives and the other family members, who numbered in far more than two hundred, all arriving at once, the errant guards tried to run to Lassa, to free him.

One of them did seem to have a spell upon him. Rather, he was chanting the spell, over and over. The effect was fascinating, though not a thing Anders would have ever thought to try, if he wasn’t seeing it work.

The man had, without changing anything physical about himself at all, made himself incredibly slippery. Even the spells that Salina was using seemed to, in the main, dance away from him.

Anders touched the man with his mind, and did two things.

“Hom Rutha Fen.”

That was simple, and only ended the man’s current spells.

“Nisk Marit Fen.”

That stopped the chanting. The skin of the man’s lips merging. Sticking together, so that his mouth couldn’t open to make noise. There was a muffled struggling, after that, and Salina held all of the men, including that one, on the ground. They lie there, unable to move, after a moment.

All of it happened fast enough that even Depak was happy with it.

Lissa cleared her throat.

“There... Sendek... Villiam? He’s about to use a talisman that will whisk Lassa away.”

Depak Sona simply moved over, walking, and politely spoke to the man.

“Sendek? I understand your drive to preserve a life, but allowing this particular one to escape might lead to the death of others. Perhaps you should hold your hand?”

Several of the holy types looked at the Great One, but only one of them hung his head, as if ashamed of what he’d thought to do.

The Sula, took a shuddering breath, in the distance.

“My words mean so little that even the Sendeks turn against me?”

Depak shook his head.

“I do not think so, Darian. He was ready to act, if it was your secret will, and no more. Do not think ill of him? We have not openly shared the crimes committed.”

That got a nod, and instead of the Sula calling out, another man, who Anders had never even seen before, an older fellow, in plain brown robes, with long pale hair and a large, white, tidily kept beard, spoke. His words carried to the masses, even though he was not loud at all.

It was almost shocking, regardless, in the quiet of the morning, as the sun rose gently, into the sky. There was no hint of breeze, and the only sound in the background was the piteous crying of the condemned man.

“Lassathian Degrud Morigan Eta attempted to kill Prince Naveed, the rightful Heir, last night. He stabbed him in the neck and back, over a hundred times. Prince Naveed lives and is here, saved by magical intervention and healing. Lassathian has, in the recent past also attempted to murder another prince, Anders Brolly Eta Caldas, who out of kindness, asked for the boy to have a second chance to prove himself. That, clearly, was an attempt to stop an unneeded war, with our allies in the north lands. Prince Lassathian confessed to the crime. To both of them. The sentence is for his title, riches and lands to be stripped from him, and for him to be put to death. That judgment will now be carried out.”

A golden glow moved from the man in brown, over to where Lassa was curled on the ground. It didn’t simply remove his head, however. Anders watched as the boy was pulled around, as if a tied-up parcel, and held, face down, in front of a large man in all white. He was holding a giant scimitar, the curved blade shining in the glow and light from the rising sun.

The man held the blade up, not seeming to see anyone else there.

Sula Darian muttered, softly. It was heard anyway, since everyone else was silent. Even Lassa had gone quiet.

Then, Anders realized, he was already dead. The golden glow had snuffed his life out, and then the man in brown had taken over, working the flesh like a puppet. One without strings. It was well done, to be honest. The body even seemed to breathe, but there was nothing left inside.

That meant, when the large silver blade cut the head from the neck, there was no pain for the boy. Indeed, he didn’t soil himself in death, nor did his mouth move or legs kick, as he lie dying.

Anders, not knowing why he did it, bowed. Bending in half, his arms out and palms up to the sky. The bow one used when entreating supernatural forces, or a great unknown. Slowly, even if it clearly wasn’t the custom there, everyone else did the same. Except a clutch of grieving women, who screamed in their pain.

Then, as if all were done, the errant guards were allowed to find their feet. Anders quickly separated the lips of the man who’d made himself slippery, and double checked to make certain he wasn’t deformed or harmed by that action. It actually took him closing with the man and doing some moments work to make certain it didn’t look like he was sneering constantly, from then on.

As that man, dressed in deepest blue linen, walked away, Hoatha and Lady Martya came up to him.

Hoatha spoke, as Martya gave him a hug.

“Are you well? This kind of thing is always... well, you’ve seen it before. At least this time the one beheaded deserved it.” He glared in Lassa’s body’s general direction.

Others were doing that as well, even though Anders didn’t bother with it. The situation was done.

“This is over now. Well, as much as such things ever are. I imagine there will be more deaths over the years, what with people taking revenge and all that.”

Martya held him for a bit, then stood back. She looked fresh, awake and well made up, but different for it, having used the style of the land they were in. Also, her skin tone was different, though the face remained the same. It was a smooth, rich tan color.

It was, Anders thought, her real appearance. At least it was the one she wore, most of the time, from the description. It left her looking just as attractive as she had before, with slightly more attention going to her black rimmed eyes.

Her voice was mellow, as well.

“No doubt. We should probably hurry along to the next place we’re going. We need word from Eltha Tennet, as to whom she is selecting for her husband. Nothing against you, Hoatha, but the clear choice here is Naveed.” She grinned, as if jesting, then listed the reasons, which sounded real. “He’s near her own age, is attractive on a level that matches at least your own looks and if she doesn’t like him, he can have ten other wives or more, to distract himself from her. The only good thing in your favor is that marrying you might mean you can move to Modroc, with her. I’m not certain she’s aware of that yet, not being well informed about you, in particular.”

Instead of seeming upset, Hoatha simply looked around. Almost as if bored with the world, already.

“I can see all of that. As a gesture of peace and good will, it might work better for Eltha to live here. Plus, that way she can watch the goings on, as their Great One. What think you on the topic, Anders?” It wasn’t even as if the man tried to lead him. He was, it seemed, merely making conversation.

Anders, tired, from both being awake the entire night and the stress of the situation, which hadn’t gone away for him at all, just stood for a moment.

“That will be up to Eltha. I should pressure her a bit, to make a decision. Are you trying to get out of this? If so, now is the best time to say something. Eltha isn’t a horrible person, to trap you for the rest of your life in marriage, if it isn’t wished for.”

The words had Hoatha spinning on him, his face wry, but hidden from most of the others there.

“She’s a fine woman. Too young for me, but that’s almost all of that sort, in these late days. I could marry her without hardship to my heart or soul. It simply wouldn’t be a love match, between us. I think I am too old for that kind of thing, any longer. That or perhaps I am merely too jaded and worn by all I’ve seen. I can go through the motions of life, but truly living is... A ghost, to me.”

Oddly, Martya closed her eyes then.

“I understand what you mean. I’d hoped that... Well, the return of Farad to us, might change things. There is nothing left, inside of me, however.” She smiled, sadly, at Anders. “Don’t think I seek my death. That is not the way of this. It’s simply that I think I should return to my projects for a while and perhaps not enslave a young man who deserves his own life to my will? That would be hard for you and I think, criminal, for anyone to ask of you.”

Hoatha glared at her then, but after a while, eased in his apparent upset.

“That is the way of it. I’m glad to have you back. You and Far both. Still, I think it might be time for me to return to my home. Unless I am needed here, by Eltha, or some plan of yours, Anders?”

He nearly froze, then shrugged, some moments too late.

“I don’t suppose both of you will give up your plans to rule the world?”

Martya made a sound that seemed nearly like choking, for a moment.

“It was never about power for ourselves. You know that right? We only wanted, still wish for, a better world. For everyone. I might take a break from that, until you can come to see that there is a better way, yourself. Not that my plans will end. I think, perhaps, we have tipped the world over, and now it is going to grow into something better. A stronger thing, with justice and peace for every person, not simply those blessed by birth.” Then, cutely, she wrinkled her nose. “Of course, that’s also what I’d tell you if I was plotting and planning actively, so you’d better stay on your guard, hadn’t you?” There was a kiss on the cheek then, and after a moment, a glance around.

“Are you staying on here then, Hoatha? To at least see what the young girl wants?”

He nodded.

“I’ll be along, soon though, I wager. At least to visit.”

Martya hugged Anders again, then threw something, a small stone it seemed, at the ground, directly at her feet. It created a great illusion of fog, and when that cleared, she was gone.

Hoatha grinned.

“That’s pure spectacle, there. She’s about... Five hundred feet that way. The woman in the blue dress moving toward the gate?”

Anders saw her, and nodded.

“Quick. That’s not a horrible trick. Not that it was needed. So, you’re both still going to try and take over the world, aren’t you? You were, the entire time.”

That got a laugh.

“Ah, you always were too quick for me to fool, Farad. Of course, we didn’t change plans, just for you. Still, it was very nice to be near your mind again. There was a time when I would have given up everything for you. For my love... Only, that was so long ago that I don’t truly remember it. Also, taking over doesn’t always mean death and mayhem. I’ll see if I can get Ruthina to go along with me on that score. I think she might be ready to listen now. If we do this correctly, you may not even be aware of it taking place. The world might well just slowly get better.”

Anders, no doubt looking too young and probably thin enough to seem abused and neglected, smiled back, trying not to think of the body of another young boy being taken care of, some hundred feet away from him.

“If you can do it that way, I might well help with it. Many might. The fear is that people often claim they mean well, then cast the world into war.” Some thought that was what history was. Wars and battles, marked by periods of silence, that weren’t spoken of at all.

Hoatha nodded, but stayed where he was. Not vanishing into a puff of fog at all.

“Good. I’ll try to see what we can put together. Later. We have time. Now, you can see to Eltha for me? Get her decision? We need to know that, before doing anything else. It will inform our next actions.”

That made a simple sense. Especially for Hoatha. His life would be very different if he was to go to Modroc to live, after all. If he wasn’t needed for that, he probably had no reason to head in that direction at all. On the other hand, Anders pressing a marriage to happen in the same month as the death, the execution, of a prince, was probably a thing well beyond what was going to be allowed, or should be.

Still, Eltha and her friends probably wouldn’t care at all that Lassa was gone. Not in more than an abstract way. They probably didn’t even know what had taken place, the night before. Though, both Eltha and Clarisse could have done that, having had enough lessons in Wizardry to at least make a valiant stab at doing that sort of thing.

Feeling sad, Anders started to walk away, wondering what his place in things was, if there would be one at all. A family member of his had died. A criminal, but also a man he knew. He wasn’t aware of the customs of the land he was in, but thought that they tended to shave their faces and heads, when there was an important death.

Which meant he waved at Depak Sona, trying to find out.

The man gestured for him to come, which was fair, but he was also by Sula Darian, Naveed, Lissa and Salina. Also, Sulana Meegan and what he had to think were most of the other wives of the ruler. It wasn’t a small group at all. There was a riot of colors, instead of all black, as well. The Sula was in white, for instance. A fine tunic, with decoration and matching trousers. Even the boots were in the same color.

Depak looked at him, a bit coldly, and frowned.

“You need me, Anders?” The tone was strange, as if both put upon and desiring an excuse to leave, at the same time.

He spoke in Istlan tongue, in case his question was going to be seen as rude.

Anders whispered as well.

“I do not know the mourning customs here. Do we mourn for a lost prince, or family member, if he was a criminal? Also, do I shave my head and beard? At least, would I, if I had such?” His face had some stubble on the chin and upper lip, but it was hardly thick or dense, as of yet.

When Depak spoke, it was louder and in Barquean.

“Prince Anders asked if it was appropriate for him to shave his head in his grief, as is the custom here.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but the Sula nodded.

“A grand gesture, given everything. Thank you for thinking of it, Prince Anders. I shall do the same, for my lost child.”

Anders simply nodded at the idea. After all, he had little knowledge of what he looked like, and being without hair wouldn’t shame him much. So he, along with Depak Sona, Lissa and Salina all went to a woman inside the palace, who saw to such things.

Then, all of them had their hair removed, while thinking of the life that had been lost.

Chapter twelve

The meal was cozier than Anders had intended, to be truthful. He was sitting in the small room where he normally took his own repast, and had invited Eltha and whoever of her people wanted to come. Instead of the four or five he’d figured on, there were three people in the room. Eltha, of course, plus Duma Sett and for some reason, Depak Sona.

Anders smiled and sat at the low table, as if it were a thing he’d done his entire life. If anyone there questioned that, knowing it wasn’t the way of Istlan at all, no one so much as raised an eyebrow at him. Before he could ask after their health, as a collective, Eltha swallowed and looked down.

“I’m sorry to hear about the passing of the Prince. We heard the announcement, but no more than that.” It was an odd thing, but Anders had noticed it himself. The word of the death, an untimely thing, for a fifteen-year-old boy not at war, or taken ill, had gone out to the entire city. The whole land, in fact. Anders had worked the day healing, after having his head shaved.

Some others in the city, seeing that had followed suit, it seemed. That or they were going to do it anyway, hearing the dire news. Only of the passing, however. Not the how or why of things at all. Not even that there had been darkness surrounding the whole event.

So, instead of announcing a thing that he might not be allowed to, out of shame or to protect the privacy of others, Anders just nodded at the woman, and tried to seem sad.

“Thank you. We weren’t close, save these last weeks. Still, by the rules here, he was family. I have had little of that, in my life, so... Well, you understand, I’m certain.” He hoped so, since he wasn’t entirely up on what he was trying to say himself.

Duma Sett teared up then.

“This is so hard. All such things are. Now, you summoned us, finally? We were just plotting the other day, to try and tear you away from the lovely princesses or great magics they have you doing here.” The wording was odd, and earned a sour expression from both Eltha and Depak.

It took a moment for Anders to realize that he wasn’t doing any Princesses, or anyone else, at all. Which was why the response had come. It was a bit of a naughty thing to say. Probably meant to throw him off, instead of suggest those would be the correct things for a person like himself to be off doing.

Depak looked away and smiled.

“I teasingly suggested he go to the city center and set up a free healing location there. He’s done that every day since we arrived, of course. No one is certain if that’s him scaling the lines of power here or if he’s simply that dedicated to following my commands as his master. They were even more baffled when it turned out to be neither. At least I informed them all, those most important, that I am not your master, being you are an apprentice to no one now.”

Anders made a face, which was probably too dour.

“Well, Master Tolan...”

Depak nodded then, his eyes going wide.

“Ah, I had to ask after that myself. It seems that, when you were named a knight, all such contracts were broken. You aren’t even a knight sworn to the King, so, at this point, you are only responsible to yourself and the cause of right. Though you can be called up for sixty-three days, if a war comes? At least in Istlan. I must say, that does fit better, what with you being the headmaster of a school now.” Again, he grinned.

Duma Sett, eyes glistening a bit, made her face seem darling as she looked at the other man.

“Ah? How is that to work, with Anders being so youthful? I notice that he was allowed to travel with us to Modroc, and again on this side trip, to see to who Eltha will wed? It’s a shame that one of the three prospects passed away, at such a time. Is it... Intrigue, do you think? I normally wouldn’t press in, given the delicate topic, but we need to know if we’re leaving Eltha in the arms of a murderer or not. At least one who will kill their own family to jockey for position.”

Eltha seemed bleak, for a moment. Then she let her head hang, and put both hands on the table in front of her.

“Each man seems a fine choice. I was... Well, Prince Lassa seemed to be occupied with other things. Training in the new magics? That could have been so that he would be a good choice for me, might it not? Now... I find that my choices are diminished. If you are allowed to help, I beg of you... Both of you...” She was too dark by far and seemed very nearly frightened, in a deep fashion.

Then, Anders wouldn’t want to marry a murderer either. Not a mad one who might kill his own family, at least. Rather tightly, Anders looked at each person in turn, ending on Depak. His mentor, even if he claimed otherwise. At least he was still learning from him.

“We need to seal the doors.” Then, as soon as Depak did that for them, rising and actually barring the thing, which would probably throw the food schedule off, since it couldn’t be delivered, Anders closed his eyes.

To use his skills to check for listeners. Amazingly, there were none. He switched to Istlan anyway. Many there would probably learn Modroc, since they were close neighbors. Scara was a different tongue, but it shared similar bones. Truly, even Istlan did, but the distance and time between them all had made it nearly a code. One that all in the room he was in understood.

“Prince Lassa attacked Prince Naveed with a knife, last night. We got to Naveed in time, so he’s healed, at least physically. He was stabbed over a hundred times in the back and neck. When we caught him, Lassa claimed it was to grab power, for himself. If it was anything else, well, I didn’t check, to be honest. It’s been a hard night.”

Depak took over, his voice dark and portentous.

“He’d tried to kill Anders on his first day here. He was going to be put to death for it, but Anders had been, as a jest I think, given to see to his instruction. He did set, and pay for, lessons for him and spent time each day, in meditation. Alas, eleven days wasn’t a long enough time to help ease his spirit. Truly, the boy should have gone to you and begged for marriage, Eltha. He was not a bright young man. Not a dullard, either, since the royal line here is strong that way. In magic as well. Lassa... Was executed at dawn. I have to ask that you not spread this around? I think the truth should be out in the world, but it is not my place to announce such things.”

Eltha gasped, at the news. Late enough that it had to be an affectation. Still, it was the right thing to do, as far as tone went.

“That’s horrible. Naveed is all right? Not harmed beyond bearing or left crippled?”

Depak waved at her then and made a face that was nearly playful.

“He is well, in fact. Anders worked on him for hours and he will need to recover his strength, but he is a powerful man in his own way. I asked Mistress Belford to see to healing tonics for him. So, do not fear that way.” The fellow paused then, and winced, then sank down a bit, as if trying to merge with the floor, or at least the pillow, below him. “Do you have a preference as to who you like, between the two remaining candidates?”

The girl, who was older than Anders by at least five or six years, let her lips blubber in an unseemly, but heartfelt, fashion.

“You mean, which man I don’t know do I pick to spend my whole life with? I can’t tell you. In that, I mean to say, I have no clue who to choose. If I were walking down the street, either of them might catch my eye. In conversation they are both polite enough and friendly. Neither is married, which would make me their first wife. Hoatha is more learned in magic, but Naveed is in line for the leadership of a mighty land. We have spoken, in our chambers, about which man would give the better claim to peace, that being the only area I would think them at all unequal. Some say Hoatha Eta, the rest Naveed. It is slightly more to the last one, since people will understand marrying a prince as a way to peace.”

She glared then, at Anders. He didn’t know what he’d done specifically, but had to figure there was more than enough for her to blame him for in her current world and life for it to be well earned.

“Not that I understand how I ended up being the one to do this. Sweyn has a younger sister, after all. She’s lovely, even. I’m literally just some street girl who managed to impress Clarissa Sett with my desire to learn. I don’t even have parents. If I have family in this world, they never bothered to let me know about it. Which... well, that’s fine. Still, there’s no reason for my body being good enough in anyone’s mind to seal a peace, is there?”

Depak, rather casually, waved that away.

“You’re the Modroc Great One. True, untested and young, but powerful and learned in magic in a way that only a handful of people in this world can lay claim to. You’re even marrying some strange man to buy peace, which is a sign of power, even if you didn’t start out with riches and treasures as a birthright. I think then, the only question is, which man serves your interests and that of your land, the best?”

Everyone was silent for a long while, as the door was tried. The shaking stopped, when Anders called out. In Scara.

“Sorry there, we’ll be some minutes in private discussion. Could you come back? I know it’s a horrible imposition.”

There was a giggle, and a low reply.

“Call for me when I am needed?”

Duma Sett covered a grin, for some reason. After a moment the rest of them did the same.

Except Anders. He moved back to Istlan.

“I can see that. If you choose Hoatha, you can take great magics back to your land. If you are attacked, as a land, it would be reasonable to think that he would stand by your side. At least as long as it wasn’t a problem with Barquea on the other side. Naveed on the other hand is here, now and will be privy to the words and actions of the Sula, on a daily basis. He also, I would imagine, would stand by you, if battle comes. There might be more ties and rules to that last one however, since he represents a land.”

Eltha flipped a hand up at that.

“How do I pick then? I don’t know... Naveed? It’s selfish, but I will get to be a Queen, after a fashion, if one of many. Is that...”

The others seemed hopeful enough. Anders, the boy inside at least, felt a bit sad. Not that he wanted her to pick Hoatha, of course. No, it was that, even if he hadn’t really thought about it much and understood it was impossible, he wanted her to pick him.

Which even the boy portion of him knew wasn’t going to work. Not with her and not just then. If he’d been five years older, or she younger, it might have. Then, he could also see that one having gone very wrong, with her having to still marry another man and him having bound himself into a long-term pain at her loss that way.

Instead, he smiled as if he meant it and nodded.

“Very good! We need to work out how to do this, rather carefully. There was just a death in the family, so mourning periods will be needed. Plus, we can decide how the wedding will happen. Are you staying here or traveling to Modroc with us, do you think?”

She, having just at that moment blurted out a name, didn’t know, of course. Anders didn’t really press. Duma Sett smiled and reached across the very low wooden table, to pat her hand.

“We should let Hoatha and Naveed know? Even if the rest must wait. After all, if Hoatha wishes to beg for you to accept him instead, it would be unkind to not allow him the chance.”

Anders could see that, actually. Not that Ganges the Great and Terrible was going to beg a woman for her hand in marriage just then. It had probably happened, in the past, but in the situation they found themselves there was simply no reason for that.

At least he hadn’t mentioned a deep love for Eltha.

Anders was willing to do his part that way, but apparently, such things were going to be dumped on Depak’s shoulders. That made sense as well, since he was the son of one of the men and the twice great grandfather of the other. While, after a fashion, not being close to either of them. Not in a way that would make giving such news too hard for him.

Anders doubted there would have been tears, either way, really. Still, all of them were good people, so this ending, or possible beginning was as fine as the other. Also, he didn’t have to try to convince Eltha that Hoatha Eta was a fifteen-hundred-year-old man, who had a reputation for once having gotten millions of people killed. That was going to make his own life far simpler, in the coming days, he didn’t doubt.

Anders wondered what his part in the situation was going to be. His own place, in his own mind, wasn’t a very important one, he realized. Standing back and at most sending a message or two, to let people know what the plans were. Instead, Eltha and Duma Sett took over and started making a list of how to let everyone know what was going on, and who to get in contact with first.

Depak smiled at the machinations and opened the door, so the food would come. Tena and three other women, none of them all that old, entered carrying the blue and white patterned ceramic bowls, covered platters and a tray with spatha on it, for each dish. It was the late meal, dinner, so more effort had been put into the well spiced foods.

Savory meats, flat bread that had been fried in oil and well boiled grains of three types. There were also two types of plantains, one of them made with sugar, which was nearly a dessert, if not served at the end of the meal, specifically. They had tea to drink. At least Anders did. Eltha and Clarissa both had wine, and Depak was served something that, on checking it with his mind, turned out to be water.

He’d only been curious, but realized things were unsettled, so made a point to go over all the food and drinks. Intently enough that everyone stared at him, with Duma Sett tightening her jaw.

“You suspect... Untoward matters are afoot?” This was murmured, in Modroc. A language that they all understood. Then, any listeners would as well.

“Not at all. Nor is anything wrong with the food. Things are going to be tense here for the moment, so being careful is important. Now, Eltha, you have a plan?”

The woman took her food, since no prayers or salutations were needed at a simple meal in Barquea before doing that. As she did that, having washed her hands using the clean damp cloth in the covered bowl behind her for that purpose, as had the rest of them, she nodded. It meant she was slightly damp, with her skin glistening ever so faintly in the light coming through the open window.

“I should tell Hoatha first, as suggested. Then, I think, send a letter directly to Prince Naveed, and ask his opinion on the topic. If he truly doesn’t want me, we could find another way, after all. This isn’t a love match, though he seems a fine man.” She winked at Anders. “So, if he rejects me, I don’t have to have a broken heart for a year, or hate him for it. Then... Well, my guess is that we go slowly, after that. Announcements and a plan to marry in half a year? I might be going home first, given that? It would be nice to see familiar places again, for a while. I used to travel the whole of Modroc, for my work, so that could be interesting.”

That left nothing much for Anders to see to at all, in that matter. Which was a relief. He had, for some strange reason, ended up being involved in far too many things where a boy, or the memory of an old historian, didn’t really belong. That was a thing he felt keenly, in the moment. Wondering if he, in some fashion, should have not been involved with the whole thing around Lassa at all. Now he was tainted by the actions of the boy, poorer and as it turned out, he’d wasted several days, working to help the fellow learn to school his thoughts. Things he didn’t even have any longer. If he did, well... Anders understood that spirits and Devica existed. It was possible that the boy had continued in some fashion. If so, whatever he was or became, Anders hoped it would work out better for him than life had.

One thing that Anders had learned over the last years was a lesson that had come out of war and travel, not anything he’d gleaned from Farad, in particular. It was simply that, when one thing failed, you moved to the next and fought as hard as you could not to let everything fall apart. Stewing on losses too much only got you killed.

The current situation wasn’t that kind of thing. Not for Anders directly, but getting his feet under himself again was important. Which had him scrambling for what he needed to do next. That, of course, was to get with his people. All of them, and make certain they were doing well. In the last two weeks, or nearly so, he’d barely spoken to Erold and hadn’t seen Princess Sweyn at all. He’d healed people, and then... Kind of spent all his efforts on Lassa.

So, a lot of time was going to free up for him, suddenly.

“Duma Sett, would you come with me into town to practice some healing, soon? You know the needed terms?”

The woman laughed at the suggestion.

“I can, I think, push a person back and make some simple lights, so far. Healing is beyond me. We haven’t had much of a chance to practice such things, of late.”

He nodded.

“In the evenings, then, until you’re ready? In my room?” Everyone grinned awkwardly, which for once, he understood. Then he shook his head. “Except you all know that I don’t mean it that way, just the one involving magical work. Even I know to be more subtle than to suggest such a thing at a meal. We should have Princess Sweyn in with us? If she has the time to do anything such as that. She isn’t the most powerful magic user, directly, but her skills are growing nicely, or were. I don’t wish her to lose that. I have some books for her. I should rewrite some of those into Modroc, actually.”

The woman, who was attractive, even if she wasn’t improving her looks with illusion at the moment, only using makeup for that effort, sighed. It was the kind of thing meant to express much, with little effort.

“Ah, lessons, at my age, too. I suppose I should do that? Eltha has been teaching me some of your tricks, of course...” She looked down, as if they hadn’t gone over that before.

He fought a rolling of his eyes at the interplay.

“As she was supposed to. We’ll go over everything you know and see where we can improve things? Eltha, you’re invited, as well, but I don’t know what kind of training you’ve been doing each day. Using as much magic as possible? As a Great One... Well, I have no call to tell you how to fit into that occupation.” He hadn’t been asked, even if he had some thoughts about the idea.

Eltha wrinkled her nose.

“That isn’t real, just a fiction being used to allow me to seem important.”

Depak snorted. It was not a polite or kind sounding thing.

“Oh, certainly. Until a war comes and you must face me in battle, Eltha. Then I have to think that your people will insist that being their Great One means very much. I truly hope that day never arrives, but if we meet, over the field of battle, we will each have to do what we can to save our people. It isn’t kind or good, but I fear that this title you now have is only going to be an imagined thing until the first crisis of any sort. Then you will be expected to act, and if found wanting, people will most likely die.”

The tone was sad, dire and a bit annoyed seeming. It was, Anders had come to realize, how he handled a student who wasn’t meeting what he thought they were capable of, at any time. Anders shrugged, as Eltha seemed a bit down at the words. Duma Sett looked puzzled.

Anders nodded.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for Depak Sona to act as your master in such things, of course. He isn’t incorrect, after all. You may, at some point, be required to face him in battle. Still, you know the rule there Eltha. If you wish to be very good, you must practice very much.” She’d told him that, after all.

A thing she clearly recalled, from her expression.

“Oh, so are you to be my Master then, Anders Brolly? I’m nearly certain you just demanded that both the greatest illusionist of Modroc and one of our Princesses heel to your word...”

The words held a wry and slightly dismissive air to them, which, if he had the idea right, wasn’t the woman saying that she couldn’t see that happening, rather that she wanted Anders to prove himself, by taking control of the situation. It was a Modroc thing, that wasn’t part of Istlan or Barquean life at all.

So he lowered his head, hooded his eyes and flared his nostrils, just a bit.

“Exactly. It will seem strange, a boy being in that position. There are rules to such things, of course... The Master to Great Ones does not berate, or hound the Apprentice. You will be expected to seek improvement constantly. The time of play is done, I fear. Oh, in small moments there may be merriment, so that life has some joy, but at every turn, you will agree to do your best. To fix errors, without it being mentioned, and when you run out of things to do, finding yet another way to improve. Then, I will likely be a poor master, having other lands to be in than you, most of the time. I shall have to improve on my ability to communicate in the distance. Today, in fact. There are people I need to get with that way already.”

It was true, but he didn’t mention who. That really didn’t matter. Not to the people with him.

Instead of returning the words with sass and humor, Eltha stopped, looked at Duma Sett and then lowered her head.

“It will be done, Dumo Anders.”

Everyone was silent then, with, after some moments of eating, Depak Sona grimacing.

“I will have to increase my own practice then, if Modroc is going to become a greater force in the magical world. Truly, even Princess Sweyn would require that of me, I believe. They will see that they can do more that way than they thought before. In response, we of Barquea must learn to work with the dark... With the Devica, more. To befriend them. You have learned some of Farad’s tricks for that? Taking lessons from the King of the Sluoagh is a heady thing, I would have to think.”

The ladies looked at Depak, seeming interested at the use of the term.

The totally bald man, his face bare in mourning, with only stubble at the sides of his head and where his mustache had been, smiled.

“Anders went on a journey, and found Farad Ibn Istel. We of Barquea know of him as the Sula of the Sluoagh. I believe you know him as the Old Man in the Mountain? The Founder of your land who left you the way of the shaman? He’s alive, and currently living in Istlan.”

Eltha nodded.

“Far? I... Did not know the rest of that. Is that real? I mean, any might make a great claim, but that one sounds... Like a lie, to be honest. Something that could not happen.”

Instead of taking offense, Anders nodded.

“I know that one. It’s him. I saw his entire life, touching his mind. He’s a most able man. Not that it matters, truly, except that his way with the Devica is better than anyone else to have ever lived. He’s shown me some small tricks that way. I have a lot more to learn and it isn’t my own personal best ability that way at all. We also worked out how to use the nullifying talent of magic. Sweyn showed you both how to do that?” She was, after all, the best at that so far, out of everyone to have learned the skill.

Eltha shook her head.

“We were told of it and shown that it works. It’s an impressive thing. Standing in front of us, she can turn our ability to cast illusion to nothing, if she works hard enough. She didn’t know if it was allowed to teach us such skills, however. You came up with how to do that, didn’t you? With Prince Erold and Far?”

He nodded, even if it felt as if he were bragging, doing it. That was a fact, and based on a thing that he’d noticed first, so it was as true as any other way of putting things.

“It’s a useful skill, or might be, in certain types of battle. Mainly if you have to fight another magic user at close range. In that case, then physical fighting skills are going to be needed. I need to start carrying my stick around, for that purpose. That or break down and arm myself with a sword all the time. The staff is taken as me being pretentious though, where a blade seems a bit threatening to most people.”

No one spoke for a moment, then Depak fixed him with a solid gaze.

“Was that the reason? I hadn’t wanted to ask, since it truly does seem a bit... Fanciful. Also, perhaps, needful now. A good plan. I should seek to do that myself, perhaps?”

He didn’t speak for a while, finally nodding.

“Let’s claim it’s the new sign of a magical healer? True, we might end up healing sores and mild illness when on the street, but that won’t seem too threatening, will it?”

Eltha ate, and looked up, chewing, in a thoughtful manner.

“I need to work on that more as well. Healing. I can do some basic things, but I have to admit, other things have called my attention first.”

After that, everyone acted as if nothing had been said, and they finished the meal, washed their hands on the second towel in the bowls behind them on the floor and everyone left. Anders was only a bit shocked to find both Duma Sett and Princess Sweyn, bulging at the middle with child, but only a little, in her fine golden gown, at his door.

He didn’t say hello, or give either woman a greeting of any sort.

“Good! Come in. Princess, please cover everything you know so far. Duma, ready yourself to do the same. This includes illusion, so I expect this to take a while.”

Indeed, it took until nearly midnight.

Anders smiled at the end, after seeing what Duma Sett could do. She’d praised him and his efforts in illusion. He did have a few tricks that were good, and useful, of course. Duma Sett, when she showed her true powers, had transformed the room into a different place that was so perfect Anders couldn’t tell it wasn’t reality. The people she made were so perfect that he forgot they weren’t real and there with them, when they were created.

In short, even using things that he knew how to do, probably without even striving too hard, the woman had shown just how much Anders had to learn that way, without a single word being spoken about the topic. So, while he’d thought to gain knowledge of what she needed to learn and it was a lot, in the skills of the magician and especially that of the wizard, she’d also taught him how very much he had left to learn himself.

Which, of course, was how it should be.

Chapter thirteen

The next days went oddly for Anders. Mainly due to the fact that he was requested, by the Sula, not to go into the city to do the daily healing. It was a bit strange being asked that, but when he heard the reasoning, Anders had to agree.

“It isn’t that I don’t wish you to do good works, of course. It is only that, in this dark time, it might seem, perhaps...” The man was clearly searching for a good way to say what he wanted.

Master Belford glanced at the room, which was large, open and held only Depak Sona, and Prince Naveed, who were both looking away at that moment. Other than Anders and of course, the Sula, who was at the front of the space, sitting stiffly on his ornate blue and green embroidered pillow. The large thing was plump and comfortable, while still not being a chair.

It was the Baron from Istlan who understood what was needed first.

“It could be seen as crass, given your station. As if you don’t care that one of your family died. Which... It would be no different back home, truly.”

The Sula ducked, as if he feared being struck over the idea. Anders simply winced.

“Ah... I hadn’t been thinking of that at all. I should... Well, I’ll go and put a sign up, to explain? Also... How to summon me if the healing needs are more important than my grief? I don’t want to... No, that could seem as if I’m just pretending to care, instead of burying myself in my work, to hide from the whole thing.”

The people of Lo’usa Tet had survived before he’d shown up, and they would after he left.

“Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t feel this. I do.” That was actually true. At least the Farad portion of him did. Anders, the boy, truly hadn’t loved Lassa all that much. He’d been annoying and took up a lot of time. Even he knew not to seem like he wasn’t grieving over the whole thing. Not with tears and rending of his clothing, but that would seem off. After all, he’d only known the boy for twelve days.

It was a fine path to walk on.

Too much of a show and he would seem false and as if he truly had no concerns beyond how he was perceived. Too little and he’d seem heartless and cold.

Prince Naveed closed his eyes.

“No one thinks that of you. It is delicate. This unfortunate passing of my brother has put many things in abeyance for a time. We must also see that our people don’t suffer for lack of care from us, at the same time.” He threw his hands out, and shook his head. “You are not the only one that is being called on their action. Not even the only one being asked not to do good works, at this time. There aren’t a lot of them, but you aren’t alone, I promise. Father, what is allowed for Prince Anders to occupy his time with, during this time of mourning?”

The Sula glared back, and held it, staring at Naveed, who didn’t look away at all, seeming merely questioning. Both men had the same intense brown eyes that the rest of the royal family did there. Depak Sona was looking away from the scene again, but his face was mild and unconcerned, suddenly. That he’d been worked up a bit when Anders was being asked not to make a fool of himself, or make the royal family look bad, hadn’t truly registered with him until it went away.

Master Belford went still, until the Sula spoke.

“Ah... Cleverly making me do my own job. I suppose that’s fair, if annoying. The answer is, of course, a simple one. Prince Anders, for the time being, I’d ask you to retire during the days to the library here and to memorize any text that interests you. When you aren’t occupied in other training?” He glanced at Depak Sona, who smiled, in a slow and sad way, and then at Master Belford. “Prince Anders has become the Master of Great One Eltha Tennet, in magic. While I can’t love what that might mean in the future, if war comes again, in the moment it certainly makes both Barquea and Istlan seem good, doesn’t it?”

There was a seated, slightly slow, bow, from Master Belford, the light from the high windows reflecting off his slightly shiny black hair. He used some kind of grease or oil on it, Anders knew. He could smell it when they closed, personally. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he didn’t know the reason for it at all. It wasn’t a popular thing in either court and certainly not outside of those places, as far as he’d ever noticed.

“Indeed. Is... I wasn’t aware that you were of that level, as of yet, Prince Anders...”

Depak Sona grinned and actually seemed pleased, for the first time since the passing of Lassa.

“He has areas to advance in, but the truth is that Anders is one of the best teachers of magic I have ever encountered. Even after learning his methods, I struggle to get the same results. Princess Lissa is learning his techniques as well, but is not yet to his level that way. Also, he is, in his own right, probably one of the top twenty or so magic users in our two lands, at this point. I cannot be certain, but he is probably the greatest in Istlan. Though, many have been moving forward well that way now, and Farad Ibn Istel is a force to be aware of now that he has moved there.”

It was a strange thing to say, since Anders wasn’t certain he was better than Far in magic at all. Except that, in the skills Depak cared about, that might be true. Far was a, perhaps the, master of entities in their world. His use of personal magic was real, but rather weak, due to that area not being a personal strength of his body.

For some reason Master Belford went wide eyed at that suggestion.

“That’s impressive then. I still recall teaching you how to properly eat at table, and now you’re a master of the mystical arts?”

Everyone else seemed upset by the playful words, and implied doubt.

Anders simply laughed, lightly. Keeping it subdued, since it was a dark time and being giddy would, as had been mentioned, be crass.

“I feel that same way, most days. I school my mind, say the words and still jump on occasion when something actually happens. Now, I’m being gifted with time to memorize some books? That’s a fine present, but I don’t know that I deserve such.” He didn’t go into why, but the Sula waved at him, and closed his eyes.

“Find me a thousand hard working men of learning, and suggest to them that they should sit in a room and actually commit entire texts to memory and not even one will act as if it’s a prize being given. Indeed, I worry that some will assume I am displeased with you, asking for such. It is only that I recall your interests there in the past. You can, of course, sit and play the day away as well, if you wish? Or do some hard labor, to show your grief. That would best be done with your own hands, instead of magic, however.”

That seemed about correct to him, so Anders nodded, which was almost a bow to the man.

“I’ll do the one with the books, to start? I... It’s a delicate thing, and perhaps not the time?” The Sula looked at him strangely, then, made a move that seemed to request him going on. “Eltha Tennet has chosen to marry Prince Naveed, you’ve heard of this? We’re moving slowly, at the moment, but...”

The man nodded.

“I have spoken with my advisors on this matter. It has been deemed important, and asking Prince Naveed to not marry, due to the death of his would-be killer is going to be taken incorrectly, if ever noticed by the masses. I agree that moving slowly is of use. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and did his own looking away then.

“I was thinking of traveling toward Modroc with the others, if it’s allowed. This matter might change that. If the wedding isn’t to be for a while, Eltha was considering making the journey back home, since it isn’t too far, compared to being in Istlan. If she is to stay here, I will make my excuses with the ruler of that land, and beg off on going myself, so I may stay and see to my new duties there. If she’s traveling that way, we can see to Princess Salina and Princess Lissa being delivered to their military training, as well as, perhaps, building a bridge over the river that was put in place there?”

Prince Naveed nodded, his head bouncing.

“I... A bridge is a good sign, and if we build it, we can control the size and placement? Also, put a military group there to watch it, from the start? If similar facilities are placed on both sides, perhaps? An acknowledgment that things are, perhaps, tense, while also being the ones to reach a hand out, and offer peace?”

Depak snorted.

“Which only works if both sides are aware of it happening from the start. Can you connect with the man again, Anders? Sulat Mondeth?”

He thought before speaking and then let his head move side to side.

“Possibly? Let me see if I can connect with Far, and have him set that in motion for us? I don’t have any entity friends, right now, and don’t know anyone from Modroc who is currently there. I can go and see to that, as soon as a message is prepared? If it isn’t possible... Well, I can go and deliver it first, if need be.”

That got a bow, from the Sula, even if it was a strange thing to say.

“Thank you, then, Prince Anders. If you and Prince Naveed would see to drafting and sending such a missive, asking if that would be welcome? The Sulat might say no, of course. It isn’t a bad plan, even if rejected. You have my endorsement, so far. Allow me to see the message, before it is sent, however? It will be binding as to being my own words, so I think I deserve that much consideration in the matter.”

Anders bobbed in place and Naveed stood, as if dismissed. That had Anders scrambling to his feet, in case it did mean that and he was behind in his understanding of the rules there. The Prince, taller than he was, darker of skin and while thin now, in an average way, still thicker than Anders, made a graceful gesture. Anders simply bowed, even if it was a bit more formal. One of the men was the son of the other and well known to him. Anders was, at best, his side-grandchild and they’d met face to face no more than six times in his entire life.

So he was going to be extra polite, even if it made him seem strange there. Then, because everyone else was important as well, he bowed in their directions, using the Barquean polite form, with his hands out to his side, at shoulder width, palms down.

Master Belford smiled. It was a bit dark seeming. Then, the man was, in general. Not evil, but it would be very possible for a person who didn’t know him to think that was the case. He tended to brood, a bit.

“Anders, would you meet with myself and my wife for the late meal?”

He had no clue where that would be taken, but it was probably no more than a few doors down from where he ate most days, so nodded. He could ask after that, after all.

“If the needs of work do not press me into missing? We have some hours, but...”

The man gave a single nod then, and the others ignored their leaving, even if Naveed was very important there. In the hallway, the man let out a gust of air.

“That was well done. Father was beside himself all night, feeling that requesting you not to do that healing might be seen as... Well, preventing you from rising in the ranks here. That isn’t allowed, but still happens, from time to time. Sula doesn’t mean perfect, after all. We all have our favorites and if a person is desperately struggling to show how useful and favorable they are and the Sula refuses them that chance... Well, there have been wars over such things in the past. That isn’t Father’s intent here, of course.” They were walking at a sedate pace, the other man’s head bare, but his body was in heavy layers of silk and ornately embroidered clothing. It was silver on blue, with white trousers that were loose and black sandals. A combination of practicality in the heat and showmanship.

Which had probably been for the benefit of Depak Sona, since the work on the top was clearly new and magical in nature.

Anders grinned, looking slightly up at the man.

“Say, you aren’t wearing the robes of a magician or magic user... How are you escaping that?” He was wearing a version of that outfit, since Depak Sona had suggested it as the custom there, on their first trip. That had been to mark Anders as a master of such arts though, so was, he didn’t doubt, more of a trick than a needful thing.

No one in the city had thought it was beneath them to be healed by a boy in simple clothing that anyone might be wearing on the street there. That kind of thing marked him as an Apprentice, however. He’d used magic, and not claimed the full title allowed.

The other man smiled.

“That is because I am not a master of such things. Or, well, perhaps I would count now, but no one has tested me on such, to check, so it’s an unknown. That’s all it is. It would be hubris to lay claim without a proper test of my skills. Also, improper to ask after such, in a time of mourning, so, this. I should be in all white, but...” The man closed his lips, tightly, and shook his head. “That brat nearly killed me. I should have died and nearly did. The palace healer told me that such wounds should have ended my life instantly and it was only luck that they didn’t. Then you ran to my side and saved me. The healer also told me that he didn’t believe anyone else would have managed it. Perhaps the Great One, but no other. And you did that, even if I stand in the way of the throne.”

Anders shrugged.

“Not so much in the way, truly. The Sula almost has to send me back down the ranks now, on the next listing, doesn’t he? I... Failed. I know everyone is being kind to me about it, but Lassa was my responsibility and I... Well, you know the outcome there. The Master is responsible for what the student does.” Naveed had nearly died. It was laying heavy in the air for a moment.

When the man spoke, he nearly sounded drunk, or perhaps dumbfounded at the stupidity of Anders Brolly. One or the other seemed to be causing his words to slur. Anders checked for drugs or poisons, then damage that might have been missed, before the man could even get the first line out.

“That’s ridiculous. Father rather flatly, and not without some kindness, informed me last night that the only reason you are not taking my place at this moment, between lists, is that I nearly died. Now, you are not from here, so I will explain that he means that as a goad to keep me working hard and trying, but I can’t say it’s wrong, can I? Notice that he asked for you to aid me in this bridge project? That isn’t just because it will be your work and effort, though that doesn’t hurt at all. No, Father is sending a message, to any who will listen, saying that you, my nephew, are considered to be highly valued here. Of a place equal, or at least near equal, to my own. Regardless of some numbers on a piece of paper...” He shook his head, in mock sadness.

Then they walked for a while, with Anders being waved at a curtain, covering a door.

“My office space.”

Anders held up his right hand, getting the man to stop. Then checked the room with magic.

“There is someone inside. Two people. With... Masks on. They are very calm, centered, but... Something is not correct here.”

He whispered the words, which were still, obviously to him, heard by the man and the woman there.

“Behind me, Prince Naveed.”

His left hand came up presenting a shield of magical power just in time for what could only be called a cascade of wood fire spark to bounce off of it. That was followed by a great black plume, which would cause his body to rot away if it touched him. He’d added that kind of thing to his own protections, after seeing both Depak Sona and Salina use such in battle. It worked well, but as with everything else, it had to touch you to do its damage.

The curtain was pressed up, as Naveed started to yell something. It was loud and started people calling out, in the distance, as Anders saw the two people who were attacking. Both of them carried wooden weapons, short sticks that had ornate carvings along their length, and their faces were covered with masks that were more like bright yellow and dark black helms than simple face coverings. The style was still the same as what Prince Lassa had worn, however.

The magic, however, was unique.

“I don’t suppose you’d both like to surrender?”

The man grunted at him, his voice dark, deep and angry sounding. Also accented, in a familiar fashion.

“Die now, Prince Naveed! You shall not unify our lands! You will not bring about the death of our order!”

The weapons they were using were powerful enough, but nothing Anders couldn’t block, even at close range. He didn’t even need to counter attack, since both the man and woman grew tired, exhausted by the use of the things, which ate the energy of their lives to perform its tasks. That took about fifteen passes though, before they both tried to put the things away and come at him with knives. When he hazarded a glance back, Naveed was next to some of the guards, and while they all had weapons out, no one called out for him to do any particular thing.

So, he focused on the blades. A scimitar and a long knife.

“Swa et li Swa, seve feron, ere ot ere, fen.”

That, rather nicely, came out sounding deep, at least for him, and relaxed. The two people just froze, as their weapons fell into five even pieces, landing on the stone floor at their feet. Then he knocked them both back, with a single gesture, his right hand pressing forward, palm out.

Letting them go for whatever other weapons they had was a poor plan, after all. It probably seemed to the others as if he’d gone mad with battle, since he pushed them both back and down, using magic and then leapt at them with his own fists flying, kicking and trying to grab the man’s arms.

“A bit of help now? Don’t let them pull anything out!”

The guards did that part, none too gently, and helped him to strip them. Bare, even if that was rude of them to do. It was clear that the guards, some of them at least, thought they were supposed to rape the captives, since they looked at each other, seemed aghast, and then started to take their own lower clothing off.

“Sorry, not that. Never that. We just need to make certain they don’t have any weapons. Could new clothing be collected for them, that won’t have anything like that hidden in it?”

That took some moments, but did happen, even if it was only Anders asking after such things. It took longer, he suspected, because no one knew, off the top of their heads, what prisoners were supposed to wear when visiting the castle. It didn’t come up that often, or so it seemed from the muttering of the guards. Thankfully, they seemed relieved and not upset about the lack of rape taking place. As if they’d been willing to follow his commands, being a Prince, but didn’t want to bother with such an uncivilized idea, if possible.

The lady, who wasn’t a high beauty, but was cute in a slightly horse faced fashion, having large teeth and a grand nose, along with short cropped hair, tried to curse them then. Specifically, even if Anders had been the one in the way, she tried for Prince Naveed. The words were in Modroc, but it was a real, actually magical, spell.

One with no power of note behind it at all.

“You will die within the day!” It was screamed, and as Anders read her mind, he understood a lot more about the woman and her fellow attacker. They were, as he’d suspected, from Modroc, but they weren’t working for the Sulat or his family. Instead, they were from a fanatical order that was mainly religious. For some reason, on hearing that they now had a Great One, to rival Barquea, they’d decided that preventing the marriage between Eltha and Naveed was worth a possible war.

Which led to a lot more questions than he had time to pull from the lady’s mind just then.

“How did you know about the marriage? It’s only been decided in the last three days... By Eltha, by the way. She picked Naveed, not the other way around. Not that she isn’t worth selecting as a wife, Prince Naveed. She truly is. Simply, I want it known that Eltha Tennet isn’t being forced into this, at least as far as who she selected went. There is, perhaps, a bit of the feeling of duty to the whole thing, I’ll admit. The same is true of Prince Naveed, if that makes you feel better on the issue?”

He spoke in Modroc, that, while perhaps not fluent, was clear and concise enough that no one asked him to repeat himself. The woman glowered.

“That doesn’t matter! The portents told us to stop them, or our order will be destroyed for all time! We cannot allow the heathens to live!”

Anders was a bit taken aback.

“By heathens you mean...” He waited, it wasn’t a real question, but the lady glared at him and explained.

“The Barqueans. Especially this one. Naveed. A cruel and feckless man, unworthy of our Great One! She is as a flower, growing sweetly from the sands and this brute seeks to split her legs and use her flesh to mark his conquest of our people!” She struggled then, as if hoping to shake off the guards and kill Naveed herself.

“Oh. I see then. Normally I’m the one being called things like that. Heathen or barbarian. Now, we should probably tie you both up and see about taking you in front of Princess Sweyn and your Great One? Will that be allowed, do you imagine, Prince Naveed? I need to investigate them more, but so far they seem to be working for a religious order, not the Sulat or any of his people. Not directly. We also have that bridge to draw up and a message to send to him anyway, so we can, perhaps, add the information about this as well?”

That, of course, would be up to the Sula and it seemed, Princess Sweyn and her people.

Also, it soon worked out that neither he nor Prince Naveed were expected to handle such things at all. It was a delicate matter, after all, so the Sula needed to get with his advisors, before approaching anyone on the matter.

As the prisoners were taken away, Anders walked back into the office space. It wasn’t vast, but it had a low table for writing and things such as pens and paper. Composing a message didn’t take hours, either, not even with a rough drawing of the river, which was very straight, since he’d constructed it that way, and where they were suggesting the bridge be placed as well as the location of the camps on either side. Which Naveed suggested they not let be too large. Enough for ten men, each. The idea being that if an army came, they could destroy the bridge, from either side, buying time for messengers to call in reinforcements.

“Yes. A thing that can work here, since so few know how to swim. Not even enough to cross a deep but gentle river. I have an idea for the type of bridge? An arc, like this...” He took a while to draw that, a stone arc that had feet in the water below, for stability. It was wide enough for a wagon, even a large one, but not for two.

Naveed took everything, and left, without asking Anders to do anything at all, including wait. So, acting on the idea that the plan might be good enough to send along with the message, he composed a magical message, for the ear of Farad Ibn Istel. Using the name for Far that he’d created, simply for such a purpose as the one at hand.

The response came about half an hour later, when Prince Naveed came back. Not exactly at the same time, but about ten heartbeats before. So the entity that hovered there was noticed, its red glow brilliant as Naveed strode into the room and went completely still.

“An attack?” He didn’t seem to know what to do.

Anders did.

“Not at all. A friend. Come to deliver the letter for us. These pictures as well, I don’t know if you can draw them...”

There was a voice then, which was low and a bit gloomy seeming. Soft, but easily heard.

“I could, but I can just take the papers? It isn’t far, to Modroc. I used to live there, when my friend Farad did, many years ago. I can find the way. To the new leader there? Sulatuth Mononeth?”

Anders made the correction, figuring it was probably a linguistic shift, due to time, rather than the energy being not understanding the language.

“Sulat Mondeth. If you have been away for a long time, things will have changed. Is there a payment you wish for this work? I could do a show of illusions for you and your friends, if you wish, perhaps?”

There was a soft, almost imperceptible laugh then.

“That would be marvelous. I do like entertainments. Thank you, Anders. I will be back. Perhaps with a message in return? I am Jonpries.”

“Nice to meet you, Jonpries. This is Naveed. He works here. A prince, in case you need to be in touch with someone like that in these parts?”

There was the sense of a bow, then the papers all of them, including the drawings of the bridge he hadn’t really meant to send along, vanished.

There was a feeling, similar to the beating of a butterfly’s wings in the air. A thing that made ripples, but that could nearly not be noticed at all.

Anders figured on waiting hours, or even days for a response and nearly moved back to his own room for that directly, when Jonpries came back. It was sudden enough that he jumped a bit, the red blob of translucent glow returning to the space so directly.

“Sulat Mondeth is pleased you have reached out to him. Would you be able to draw pictures of the masks, and the faces of those who so foully sought the end of Prince Naveed?”

The Heir tilted his head.

“I hear words, but I do not know the tongue?”

“Ancient Ethrite. It’s the base language that Modroc comes from. Jonpries, that’s the name of our friend here, was asked by the Sulat if we could provide drawings of the masks and the attackers? My skill that way is... Minimal, I fear. I can do some basic things... Really, we should ask if Depak Sona will aid us in this part? Unless you have great skill that way, Prince Naveed?”

It was a slight surprise, but the older Prince simply nodded.

“I’ve had lessons and it’s a hobby of mine, so I might serve that way. Well enough for hasty sketches, at any rate. I don’t want to keep, Jonpries was it?” He went on when there was a nod from Anders and a shifting movement from the cloud in the air. “I don’t want to make him wait on us. If... Is it a him? I... How rude of me to not know!” The man actually seemed concerned over the idea.

Jonpries, when the whole thing was explained, seemed more relaxed.

“I was never human, and never had one of those genders that you body people like to go on about. It seems a bit of a burden to you all, really.”

That, when explained, got a chuckle from Naveed, who was already drawing and doing a much better job of the recreations than Anders would have without ten times the effort. When they were finished, from memory, the man had good likenesses of the masks and people involved. As soon as he showed Anders that, Jonpries vanished again, along with the new drawings.

Then they got to wait for real.

There was no answer for so long, in fact that Anders went to find his bed, hoping the change in location wouldn’t mess Jonpries up on the return, and he slept in a comfortable bed, uninterrupted, for the entire night, and ate in the morning with Master Belford, having missed the meal the night before. He started to explain, but the man, who was dressed in all blue that day, simply settled next to his wife, who was in a fine green robe.

“I heard that there was a second attack on Prince Naveed. Also that you handled it, with no harm being done this time. We need to go carefully there, Anders. It was well done, but you saving lives too often will start to seem staged.”

He nearly snapped at the man, exasperated at the idea. He hadn’t set things up after all. Which, while true, still wouldn’t stop anyone from thinking that. Luckily, he held his tongue for a moment and nodded.

Speaking as he had been spoken to, in Istlan.

“I understand. I should be leaving soon, if possible? It will be a few weeks, I think.”

They all ate then, with Master Belford hinting at something vague for a long while, before Anders simply used his wizardry skills to find out what was wrong.

It wasn’t, as he had expected, that the man wanted to borrow, or even have, some gold or other coins.

No, the man, rather desperately, felt that the Sula, or at least some members of his family, were about to have him killed.

Chapter fourteen

The library of Sula Darian wasn’t a mere room, filled with some scant rows of scrolls and tomes. It was a full building, just off the palace, with very high windows and shelves so grand that one needed a ladder to find what some of them were. There were tables, at which to read, with special lamps placed over them, in case late night reading was ever required. Those were of fine silver, with clear glass hoods on them, along with small metal chimneys, to take the soot outside directly, so as to lessen the marring of the books there. Anders had been in a different library at the palace on his first stay, a fine room with two tables and many texts and thought that place was what had been spoken of.

“So, I live here now?” He tried to make his voice sound matter of fact, as he looked at the old man who ran the place. No name had been given, only that this man in brown robes was the keeper of that building.

Also the one who had truly executed Lassa.

The fellow laughed at the jest, at least.

“I felt the same way, when I first saw it. Try to get at least some sleep? Otherwise, people will proclaim your mind gone and then you’ll end up doing nothing but reading all day long, to avoid them.”

He could see it as a danger and smiled over the idea. There had been a time when, in many ways that had been the main portion of his life, after all. A thing he couldn’t truly allow, for Anders. That was largely due to the fact that, while Anders could see the use of learning new things, he wasn’t convinced that doing so without end or directed purpose was all that needed. Since it was his life, Farad knew that losing himself to books or learning wouldn’t be allowed. Even if it was tempting to push for such things.

“Would you know if any of these works are modern texts on bridge building or perhaps manufacturing waterways? The Sula suggested that I memorize some works, if I have the time, and I find that I do, for the moment.”

Instead of giving the boy, who had to seem strange with his pale skin and blond hair, a funny look, the man simply looked up and to the right for a moment, pausing, then dashed off toward a bookshelf, a good way toward the back of the large space.

“This way, Prince Anders! I think we have several good selections to start with.” That was simply the truth and the man loaded him with several works, and then indicated where each needed to be returned on the shelf. He fixed that information into his mind, firmly, since it was important not to have things be too out of order, he had to imagine.

Not with so many works being in one place.

Then, with the man still there but not bothering him, Anders selected one of the works, a narrow tome with a brown cover that claimed to be about several types of bridge construction, and committed the whole thing to memory. It took focus and skill, and wasn’t as fast as reading, but he finished before the mid-day meal by enough he could pack things away.

The Librarian came over, his wrinkled brown face seeming pleasant.

“You have that one in your mind already, then?”

He nodded.

“It wasn’t too long. I can return, after the meal? I don’t know the hours that visits are allowed.”

“Oh, anytime, really. It’s best to come during the day. Now... I think we need to flee. We’re under attack by a sluagh. Perhaps of the greater sort. Run. I will guard you as I might.”

The man seemed to be getting ready not only to battle to the death to protect the strange prince, but also to die.

Anders turned and looked near the front.

“It’s not an attack. This is Jonpries, so there’s no need to fight. He’s a friend of ours, here... Jonpries!”

He waved, even though that sort of being didn’t see reality in the same way that Anders did. From the description Far had given him, when you were a Devica, people looked a lot like energy clouds. Small ones, compared to a giant like Jonpries.

The librarian froze for a moment, then tilted his head.

“Ah? Well, that’s different, then! Welcome friend!”

Anders smiled, since the thought was correct. Not all of that kind was instantly going to be your friend, but treating them as if they were evil beings, or attacking them, wasn’t going to win them over, either.

“Do you speak any Ancient Ethrite?”

The man switched to that tongue and his accent was a bit thick, but it was clear enough, if rough.

“That tongue of old have I, this one.”

Jonpries, clearly hearing that, moved in.

“Hello, friends. Anders, the Sulat of the Modroc has sent missives and apologies. There is information about the cult that has attacked Prince Naveed. I am to carry that to his daughter, Sweyn, if allowed? I do not wish to scare her, so came to you, first.”

Anders waved that away and spoke at the same time, not certain if the being would understand that small of a gesture.

“She should be fine. This man is the librarian here. He can actually speak the same tongue you do, if you need to pass a message and I’m not around? Is that well with you, sir?”

The man, even if he’d been about to fight to the death to save Anders, had already recovered from the fright, it seemed.

“That is fine, of course! I am Rashid, the uncle of Sula Darian. Rashid Eta. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” There was a bow, but, Anders noted, it was done with palms down, even if to this man he was facing a great terror.

Anders felt a bit of glee over that, to be honest. If people in Istlan feared all magic, people of Barquea were easily as worried, if not more, about sluoagh.

“Excellent. I was just memorizing a book, on bridges. I’ll need to ask for aid, to find Princess Sweyn, I fear. I don’t really know where her room is. Not on the same hall that mine own.”

He started to leave, with Rashid moving in alongside of him, chattering fairly merrily at the floating red cloud of energy.

“Do you live in this area, Jonpries?”

“I live, currently, with my friend Far, up in the north, at the grand college there. That is just beginning, so it is a rare treat, to see a great thing unfold, from the start.”

Rashid clapped.

“Oh, that does sound marvelous. A place of learning? What is it dedicated to?”

Anders spoke then. After all, it was his school, or would be, if he was ever allowed to actually stay there and set things up.

“Magics. With an eye toward both military efforts and good works, when no wars are present. All magical subjects will be covered. If we can find teachers for all of it. So far we don’t have even a single book. I’ll have to write some, so we can start filling the shelves of the room I set aside for that. As Jonpries mentioned, it’s just now beginning.”

The older man smiled.

“You write books as well? Amazing. Anything I’ve heard of?”

That didn’t seem likely, but he smiled anyway.

“Magic for Princesses? It’s in two languages now, so...”

The other man clapped.

“I’ve read it, then! Sula Darian was gifted a copy, and had it placed on the shelves here. An amazing work. We get copies of anything you write in the future?”

“If you wish? Right now, I need to write some new works. A primer for magic, similar to the first, but in Modroc, and one for Apprentice Great Ones. That... Well, it’s a niche market, isn’t it? I’m not even one of those myself, either.” He paused and sighed, as he kept walking. “That bit of magic you did the other day, ending Lassa before he was beheaded, then making him seem alive for that, and in control of himself... That was a great kindness. Refined work, as well.”

Rashid looked down at his feet.

“Ah, you noticed that? It wasn’t meant to steal the moment, simply to ease the boy’s passing. That one never was right, but trying to kill people... Well, I never agreed with that sort of thing. It’s why I never went off to war, I suppose. I study, instead. Books and magics. Other things as they take my fancy. I have for, oh, a few hundred years now.”

Anders nodded, not disagreeing with that time frame. Not directly.

“The Sula isn’t that old, and you’re his uncle?”

“Correct. At some three removes. Great, great, great-uncle. Am I saying that right, Jonpries?”

“Yes.” The voice from the cloud was ponderous. “That is a long life for one of you body people, isn’t it? Far is older, but few others are.”

They went on in that vein for a while, the pleasant banter with the floating red, possibly evil as far as anyone watching knew, entity, seemed to calm everyone well enough. At least Depak Sona and his apprentices weren’t running at them, desperately casting spells.

Even when they stopped to ask directions to the Princess, they only got strange looks, instead of fearful reactions. Meaning they managed to find the Princess and her people, Eltha, Sondra and Duma Sett, with only three false destinations, first.

When they entered the room, Anders bowed. Using the Barquean fashion, since they were in that land and he was, more than anything else, acting for those people that day. Then he gestured, first to the energy being, since everyone was staring in that direction already.

“This is our friend, Jonpries. He knows Far? This other man is the head librarian here, Rashid Eta. A Magician as well as versed in other magic, I think? Rashid, Jonpries, this is Princess Sweyn. These others are the Modroc Great One Eltha Tennet, Duma Clarissa Sett, who is a famous illusionist and Sondra Beregian.” She was a spy, but introducing someone that way seemed rude to him.

So he left it there, repeating the whole thing in Ephrite. The Modroc women did seem to be able to follow that language, a little, since it wasn’t that far away from what they used at home. Just old fashioned.

Jonpries sent out a feeling that seemed happy.

“Hello. I am delivering a message to Princess Sweyn, from her father?” The deep voice seemed to be too hard for Eltha and Clarissa to easily get, but Sondra simply jolted back a bit, and Sweyn took a half step forward.

“I’m Sweyn. What is the message?”

That, it turned out, was dumped at the floor, near her feet, all in a rush. Nothing was there one moment, then the next, a small pile of missives, letters and even a small box of something or other appeared. It was more than Anders would have asked the cloud to carry, but it didn’t seem to be troubled by it. At least there were no complaints that way.

It was important to ask. That was one of the rules of working with that sort of person. Also, not treating them like monsters. That never went well, for some reason Far hadn’t explained too clearly as of yet.

As the girls gasped, Anders did his part.

“That’s a lot to carry such a distance. Are you well? Do you need to refresh yourself or... Well, do other things that I don’t know about?”

There was a sense of pleasure from the thing then. Almost a wave of it.

“I’m very fine, friend Adners. Thank you.”

He grinned.

“Anders.”

No one commented on that part, not even Jonpries. There was a sense from the being that it had been misspoken on purpose, however. As a jest.

Sweyn picked everything up and moved to a low table, sorting it all, before selecting one of the things, a sealed letter that seemed to be a single sheet, and looked to be heavy and official, with a strange seal on it, in blood. When it was unfolded, Sweyn read the whole thing, then explained what it said, instead of passing it to others.

“The Leas’seth are behind this, or so it seems right now. That... They’re worshippers of the goddess of death, and tend to use assassination to address even things they find to be small issues. Technically it’s illegal to be a member of their order, but they’re rather good at hiding what they are. The masks are a giveaway, it seems. It... Didn’t Prince Lassa wear a mask like that? Half one color, half the other?”

No one else there knew directly, except Anders.

“He did have one on when he tried to kill me. We don’t really know if that’s the case with Naveed. He had one with him, when I found him, so it seems likely. Is that religious order one that exists here?”

It was interesting, since only Rashid knew that one, out of all of them.

“Possibly? Not under that name, but the Order of the Silent Blade is rumored to both exist and also wears a similar mask when they kill. I have read... I think there was a goddess involved there, in their system of beliefs? It might not be the same thing, but...”

Anders just started nodding.

“Agreed. If we have two members of that order and Lassa was wearing a similar mask, it seems there might be a link there. We need to go carefully, however. If they aren’t linked, assuming it has to be that way might cost us time in this investigation...” Everyone was looking at him, as he tapered off.

Then he blinked.

After all, he, even as a young prince in that land, wasn’t the prime individual to be set to such an investigation. If one was desired at all. Not knowing that, if it was even a thing for him to suggest or request at all, or even if it would be looked into, was why he wasn’t the right person to ever lead there. Not that he couldn’t learn, but he didn’t have even a boy’s understanding of how Barquea worked, that way.

So, he shrugged and looked at Rashid, who was a man of that land, if nothing else. Also, clearly, one who prized learning.

“How would that be handled, do you think? I’m not certain, but I think that if I get involved in even one more thing without being invited, that the Sula might just have me switched.” He didn’t think that was the case at all, but the old librarian grinned at the idea.

“Ah... Let me ask after that? If nothing else, we should take these reports to Darian. If that’s allowed, of course, Princess Sweyn?” The man waited, seeming a bit diffident with the girl. She made a face, but then nodded.

“Let me read the other things as well, then we can take what is allowed to him, directly? I don’t want to hide anything, but I might have orders about what I can share or not and I can’t go against what my father wants, that way.”

That just made sense, and even Rashid simply nodded at the idea. It was a very accepting thing, in fact.

“No one would imagine otherwise, of course. I... Should I leave? I’m not known to you, and only the man who guards the library here, not anyone of importance.”

The Princess smiled at the man.

“Please, feel free to stay? We could ask for refreshments, if you wish?”

The man shook his head, but did sit on a pillow, instead of standing. Then they all waited, silently, as the Princess read. To herself. It was clear that some of what was in the missives was secret. Not all, however.

“Father is requesting that we still have Prince Anders come with us, even though, clearly, we can’t ask him to come as a performer or even to display his magics, now. He wants to make certain you know that he meant no insult, in the prior request?”

Anders smiled at being mentioned at all. He wasn’t that important, at the moment, after all. Not to his own mind, at least.

“None was taken, of course. I’m still planning to do some shows, if that can be arranged without giving insult? I worked on them, fairly hard, after all. I also promised a show for Jonpries and his friends. We should do something for the other Devica there, in Modroc, as well.”

The whole thing was translated, for the energy being.

The cloud, who was holding back, floating near the door, unobtrusively, for a thing that was about the size of two large horses, spoke then.

“That would be a fine thing, Anders. My kind is not treated well there, truly. Not abused, but not given friendship, openly. It makes things strained that need not be.”

Princess Sweyn made a face at the words, clearly starting to work out the strange sounding version of her own language.

“Well, let’s see if we can change that? The Devica are clearly too important for us to mistreat like that. We do hold them in high esteem, though I understand what you mean. We tend to treat them as... Tools, or forces to bargain with, instead of as friends or members of our own family. Is that... Would that be desired, do you think, Jonpries?”

There was a pause, but the deep voice that came back was pleasant.

“Yes.”

Anders clapped, a few times.

“Good, then. We’ll get Princess Sweyn to set that up for us, so we don’t make everyone angry at us coming in and pushing people around?”

That seemed right to him, but Sweyn shook her head.

“No one will think that of you, Anders. Not there.”

Eltha looked at him, her brown eyes seeming strange for a moment, hooded and amused.

“Is there anything in those letters about your younger sister, perhaps?”

It took him a second to get that one, since people had joked about him marrying the girl at one point.

Sweyn looked at the pile of papers that had been set aside, then didn’t speak, fixing Eltha with a bland look, instead. It was clearly filled with meaning, or meant to be. Clarissa laughed, gently.

“Dimian? That...” The woman, even if it wasn’t truly her way, held her tongue then, and seemed suddenly concerned. Not worried, but as if she, and the others, weren’t supposed to speak on that topic at all.

Sweyn read off a few more tidbits, and then stood, at the end.

“We should go and speak to the Sula? There are some things to report, outright. Where the two assassins we have come from as well as who likely sent them, if nothing else.”

Everyone moved along with them, which included Prince Erold, and Depak Sona, who met up with them in the hallway, outside of the Sula’s office space. Prince Naveed was inside the room already. They were all asked to sit, first thing, by Darian himself.

The man didn’t speak after that, merely smiling, and finally fixing on Anders, looking up at Jonpries a few times, with some small trepidation. Then, interestingly, he turned to Rashid and stared, until the man spoke.

Not the Great One. The Librarian. The one who had been called on to tell the world about what Lassa had done. Who had killed him, even if he claimed to hate that sort of thing. It spoke of being more important than the man had let on.

He smiled, gently.

“Our friend Jonpries, the large glowing one back there, has taken missives to Sulat Mondeth, and brought replies, in a most timely fashion. Those were sent to Princess Sweyn, directly. Perhaps, if you are willing Princess, you could share what is allowed with us?”

That happened rather directly. With the assassins being covered first thing.

“They’re from the border temple, in the south and west of Modroc. A remote mountain compound. I don’t know much more about it, just the rough location. Father has sent soldiers to rout them and break their order, but that won’t hold them forever. Once they start trying to kill, they tend to continue working on it for a very long time. They’re masters of oracles and portents, so can strike before things even come into being, at times. It’s being addressed, and my father hopes that these criminals attacking won’t be seen as continued hostilities from our land?”

The Sula sighed.

“Indeed. This is a difficult conundrum. It would be too simple to send people, claiming them not involved with the ruler of a land, to kill another ruler, or his heir. At the same time, we have similar people here, in Barquea.”

Anders spoke, even if he wasn’t really supposed to, clearly.

“The Order of the Silent Blade? Is it possible that Prince Lassa had been approached or influenced by them? The masks worn were similar. We have no other reason to ask that, other than the two assassins being related to that group, in some way, possibly.”

Darian narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. Ghosts and phantoms, who are nearly impossible to remove from our land. We have tried, thousands of times.” He looked at Rashid directly, then Depak. “Would you two look into this for us? See if we can find any link, if it is there, between such zealots and Prince Lassa?”

Both men simply nodded.

Darian looked at Sweyn, who went on then, unprompted otherwise.

“My father has also suggested a possible marriage between my younger sister, Princess Dimian and Prince Anders. He wishes to meet Anders first, of course, to make certain he’s suitable. Coming as he does from the lands of barbarians and heathens, naturally.” Her face fought a grin at the insult.

Darian snorted.

“Yes, a real concern, no doubt.” His face was bland, and tone dry. Not angry. Then, it was clear that Barquea thought of those other places as being the inferior option as well.

Truly, Istlan was the most open minded that way, as odd as it seemed. Anders wouldn’t have guessed that, until he’d seen other places. That, of course, was the heart of the issue with Master Belford. He enjoyed men in bed. A thing that was known of in Barquea, but rather hated. Anders didn’t really understand why they were like that, but it was a simple truth.

Also, from what he’d heard the man had gotten caught having relations with another man there, as well. Which was, almost certainly why he thought the Sula wanted him dead. That would be unfortunate, of course, were it to happen. You didn’t kill an Ambassador. Not without starting a war.

Not that he knew what to do about that kind of thing. He wasn’t trained in such matters at all. Which meant, of course, that he needed to make certain he understood the danger, had the right reason behind it and got with people who were better able to understand what was truly needed.

Which, given who he was, meant that he needed to use magic for it. Doing anything else would be asking for him to make the wrong move and end up with Master Belford dying, which would probably start a war. A strange one, since Istlan couldn’t actually invade Barquea or the other way around, with any kind of ease or alacrity.

That would mean other techniques would be used and probably that ordinary people would suffer. Not that they didn’t always, when tension went upward, between lands.

Darian had continued speaking, after a moment.

“Still, Prince Anders is a fine man, and would make a good husband, I think. You have dispatched the duty you spoke of to me last year?”

He blinked. That had been finding Ganges and trying to talk the man into not taking over the world. He didn’t know how well that had worked, but he honestly had taken care of the matter, to the best of his ability.

“I did, Sula Darian. The threat to the world, while not gone, has promised to pull back and not try to harm us. I don’t know if that can be trusted or not, but it was what was spoken of.”

He didn’t mention Ganges at all, since speaking about that name, as more than a historical figure, would have everyone in the room except for Erold and possibly Depak, jumping up to relieve themselves of a sudden natural urge.

The Sula might not have been able to hold that idea in his mind, but the man didn’t ask for more. Clearly thinking it was about hiding information from the others in the room with them. Even if that wasn’t the case at all. Jonpries could have found out for himself, after all.

The pleasant seeming ruler, his face showing only a small trace of age, mainly around the eyes, took a single, fairly deep, breath.

“Good! I feared asking. Amazing, as well. What would you have as a reward? The Sulat suggests his daughter, but... I think last year there was some idea that Princess Salina might be a good match for you?”

Anders froze.

“Uh... Princess Jasmin, if I recall, correctly?”

Sula Darian touched his chin.

“She’s married already, of course. We could offer Salina up, anyway? A bit older than you are, but not by so much as to seem untoward?”

No one spoke for a moment. Anders nearly did, but the truth was that, while he wasn’t that fond of Salina, he didn’t dislike her, either. Any talk of him marrying was going to be a bit unwelcome, for the time being, however.

Depak coughed, a bit roughly. It got the Sula to stare at him.

“You have something, Great One?”

“I was just thinking that Princess Lissa might be a better match that way?”

It was a strange thing to speak of, but oddly, Eltha nodded, her eyes a bit moist.

“She’s mentioned that idea, rather openly. She’s a trifle young, being only twelve, however. No need to press things that way. Dimian is the same age, I think?”

Sweyn tilted her head.

“Fourteen, now?”

The Sula bobbed in place.

“Very good. We should see if that works for either of them, Anders? I would like you to consider living here, in Barquea, if your duties as the Great One of Istlan, can be safely set aside? You have a college there? We could use such a thing here, as well, if that will entice you?”

Princess Sweyn made a soft, almost rough, noise, in her throat.

“Modroc will offer three wives, a school, and lands, as well as a title. Prince, if through marriage? It would pay to consider that, Anders.”

Those words started what seemed like a bidding war, which was finally put to rest at five wives, a school as large as he wanted, and his own lands to govern, in both locations. As a wealthy man, he was actually allowed as many wives as he could afford to keep, of course. So the real offer was that they’d provide the women to him, without his having to do all the work, first. Eltha mentioned that part, grinning a bit, as if he might not understand. Which he honestly hadn’t, so taunting aside, the information was helpful.

Anders finally shook his head.

“All of this teasing is making me highly uneasy. I should... See if Rashid Sona and Depak Sona have need of my aid in their investigation? I can scribe for them, perhaps, if that isn’t outside of what is allowed, Sula?”

There was a moment of thought, then a head shake.

“I think your current duties are sufficient, Prince Anders. We have trained scribes here for such work, if it’s needed. Researchers, as well. You were working on a bridge, with Naveed?”

Those words had Sweyn smiling, which had stopped while she negotiated for him. Or whatever that strange event had been.

“Yes! Forgive me for not bringing that up already. Father loves the idea. Especially if Prince Anders is paying for it all? That portion was unclear. He is willing to cover half of the cost, of course, but I’m not supposed to mention that first thing, in case we can get a better deal that way.”

He simply sat up straighter.

“That works, then. I can do the work myself, or get Erold to help me with that. Is that near where we need to take Princess Salina and Princess Lissa, anyway? We could do it in one trip, if so.”

Depak nodded.

“That seems correct. I might be needed elsewhere, for a time. There’s no need for the girls not to see to their new training, of course. You could travel with them, Anders?”

That seemed the best plan, really.

As long as the assassins weren’t coming after them.

“If I’m not needed here, to guard Prince Naveed? Not that the people here aren’t good at their jobs. I could sleep across the door to your chamber though, if it’s needed?” In that case, well, it would be annoying for him, but he really could do it.

It was somewhat humorous, but no one acted as if he meant it that way. The Sula simply froze for a moment and then looked at him, directly.

“We’ll start with a simple increase in guard and caution. I may call on your services that way, if things intensify, however. Thank you for the offer, Prince Anders.”

With that he, and most of the others, were dismissed.

With orders to get a trip underway.

Part Two: Blades of the Goddess

Chapter fifteen

Anders didn’t feel that awkward about Princess Salina having been put in charge of the trip to the south eastern military base, not in particular. It was sort of obvious that everyone else had, at first, wondered at that idea. The orders had come from Depak Sona for that, specifically, however. Technically the man wasn’t the one in control of their trip to Modroc, but it wasn’t a horrible idea, on the surface. Not if you expected Salina to be an Apprentice Great One, instead of what everyone else seemed to expect. That being, of course, herself.

The old self, that hadn’t seen a war. The bratty Princess who had been known for her quick temper and loose ideas of what humor entailed. Instead of ordering someone else to see to what they needed for such a journey, the woman actually took time to plan, and paid for the whole thing, out of her own funds.

They could hunt and gather along the way, and buy things in towns, but the Princess was also bringing enough food for all of them to get to the far command base, with extra left over for the wagons that would be going on to the Modroc capital of Billeth.

Anders had blinked when he heard the name spoken out loud. He’d seen it on the maps, of course, having memorized everything on the second continent, since it might come up as being needed, including a very fine, if slightly old, map of that city, with every street marked and each building labeled with an indicator of what was housed there. Or what had been, once upon a time, some two hundred years before. It had likely changed a lot in that time, of course. Things did that, if you weren’t paying attention.

When Sweyn had mentioned the place by name, it being her childhood home, it had caught in his mind. After all, Farad had once been the Sulat there. Their Founder of legend, in fact. And Farad Ibn Istel, as a child, had a pet dog of that name. Anders hadn’t mentioned that, since it was obviously a place that was nearly sacred to the people of Modroc. The hub of its social community, and seat of power.

Suggesting it was named after a furry brown-haired mutt might not go over well. Even if it should have. Billeth had been a very good dog, after all.

Still as they’d ridden, Salina had requested that they improve the roads the whole way, where it was needed, so that the carriages wouldn’t be on too bumpy of a path. Also, they used magic to create inns and buildings as they traveled, including way stations and fountains that were fed by springs and water towers, if the terrain allowed for it, so that travelers were never too far from a clean source of the substance for themselves and their animals.

Anders did end up doing about half the work, but Salina did her share, and pressed Lissa to come up with decorations and even whole buildings constantly. Eltha was pressed into work, but by Anders, since that was his job. The others were as well, if to a lesser degree. Sweyn was the only one truly given careful treatment that way. It might have seemed mean, but Anders didn’t care if Erold or Eltha huffed their day away, sweating and moaning at the hard work they were doing.

Sweyn was pregnant and while that didn’t mean invalid, it seemed harsh to press her to that same level, constantly. Not that she got out of practice. Every third day the building of the inn or an out structure was put on her shoulders, for instance. It took her about six hours to do the work, which meant ending early for the day when that happened, and going to bed well after dark, but no one complained about the time they were losing.

Anders patted Juniper on the neck. The girl horse was easily in her mid-twenties, which was a good age for a horse to live, generally. She looked no more than three however. Small, but without the signs of age that should have been there. She was also well fed and in good health, having lived for a year with the pampered ponies and horses of Sula Darian. The grooms had, clearly, not neglected her at all.

“I think that’s the base, up there a bit. We’ve made decent time, really.” It hadn’t been fast, but they weren’t rushing to war or market, either. Salina had decided that making fifteen miles per day was fine enough progress, given the work that was being done.

Twice they’d stopped for several days, and made wonderful towns, near interesting features of the landscape. Places where Anders wouldn’t have minded living himself, if it had been an option, or was in the future. They were just left empty, with word being passed that the first people there would have ownership.

Basically, making whoever got into place first wealthy, if they made the right choices in the coming years.

When they got to the fairly humble seeming camp, a place that Anders had constructed himself, over a year before, he grimaced.

“Well! I could have done more on this, couldn’t I? I didn’t even make a wall...”

Princess Lissa, groaned, grinning at the same time.

“I’ll start on that, first thing? Or... We should ask about that? I was told that we were under General Sendra, once we got here.”

That seemed correct to Anders, so he nodded.

“At least you two are. Not that I don’t want to speak to her as well. To go over the plans for the bridge? I roughly know the river, but there might be places where it would work better for her, as far as being guarded goes.”

Salina waved the words away.

“This way, then? We should repair our clothing, to make an impression. What would a warrior expect from us, Prince Anders?”

He shrugged.

“General Sendra, specifically? Something plain, that shows you’re ready to work? Robes, since you’re here for magic, but something boring. Brown, or black. The kind with trousers, so that you can actually ride horses and help with any ditch digging that might be needed. Be prepared for that, both of you.” He didn’t let his face break into a grin, even if he was jesting at the moment. That would spoil the effect. “You might well be set tasks without magic being allowed, so that you know first-hand what soldiers have to face that way. It’s a big portion of why you’re here, so no whining about it, when you have to heal blisters on your palms and sooth sore muscles each night.”

Salina wrinkled her nose in disgust of the idea, but she sighed and nodded.

“That does sound likely. We’ll do it. Somehow. So, here...” She muttered for a while, picking the outfit she wanted. It was a bit too pretty at first, being brown, but with clever stitchwork in a slightly darker brown, to show her skill and talent that way.

Lissa just put herself in something plain, without the bit of extra.

They were stopped at the main gate, which was just the road into the base, since, as he’d mentioned, there was no wall there. Some of the new camps had them, but this one had been the second or third he’d worked on and that part hadn’t been mentioned to him until a little over half of them had been constructed.

The guards there looked at the coaches, noticed Anders, Salina and Lissa on horseback, with ten guards behind them, obviously men from the palace, and smiled, in a rather friendly fashion.

“Hold, if it pleases you, high ones!”

Apparently, they did please, since they came to a stop. That was only polite, after all. The man, who was probably not much older than Anders, by perhaps five years or so, cleared his throat.

“This is a military base, is... That where you wanted to go? On a pilgrimage to see the new river? It was created by the magic of Prince Andros, from the northlands. A mighty individual, to be certain! There is a small camping area, to the south, if you wish that, instead of this place?”

Anders started to speak, when Salina did it instead. She was, after all, the person in charge.

“We might get to see that, but I fear we, some of us, came to work. I’m Princess Salina, here to see General Sendra? This is Princess Lissa. This other lady is Eltha Tennet, who is to marry Prince Naveed, the current Heir, in nine months. There are some others here, but no one to worry about.” She grinned, as if she were slighting him on purpose.

Instead of protecting him from being noticed. Anders was fine with it, either way, really.

It had taken him time to understand that the name he’d been called, Andros, wasn’t a mistake. Even the men there probably knew that his real name was at least something else, if not the strange and foreign sounding Anders. Adding the last bit was basically suggesting that he was a warrior. That or he had pretensions of being such a person.

It had been given to him early on, the first time they’d met, by Nedros, his uncle. Probably as a way to poke fun at him, for some reason. The feeling, if he had it right, was a bit like calling a small child his Majesty, when they acted self-important.

Only, the gate guard there probably didn’t know who he was to mock him that way. Which probably meant that he was just another Prince who bothered with war and such things, to their minds. That wasn’t too far off, so he wasn’t going to bother correcting anyone over it.

The guard nodded, smiling still, and turned to the other man, who had a tin whistle on a tan string around his neck. He gave three sharp blows, followed by five more, and ending with two long blasts. That, with a look at Eltha, was ended with a third long blast.

Anders thought he got the basic idea.

Three short probably meant that people had come. Not the obvious things, like relief soldiers or goods in a caravan, which were probably the most common things. So travelers, or guests, would be indicated in the first part. The base didn’t erupt into battle, at least, so it was something along those lines and had to be the first thing, in case the rest couldn’t be heard over the fighting, if it came.

The five in the middle would be the number of wagons, horses or people. It probably meant many, or something close to that, rather than five. They had more wagons and carriages than that, and close to fifty people traveling with them.

The three long blasts didn’t make perfect sense, except that the man had clearly added one for Eltha. Seeming as if he didn’t know if he should or not. She was going to be a princess there though, and there had been two other long sounds. With Salina having only introduced herself and Lissa, otherwise. So those meant they had a number of dignitaries there. A lot more than just that, but Salina had been careful not to scream about the Modroc having come.

Which was wise, given where they were.

They were met, about ten minutes of sitting on their horses, and in the carriage, later, by General Sendra, who looked healthy and well cared for, compared to the last time he’d seen her, though still hard, and with a large nose, long face and hard eyes with some wrinkles around them, and hair that had been recently shorn off on the top of her head.

There were several other men and one woman, with her, all in the blue uniforms of officers in that land. Practical things with trousers, even for the women. Instead of barking at them, which had been how he’d sort of expected to be met, the woman smiled.

“So, I recognize some of you. Who’s in the carriages? Some of the people in the wagons seem... Different.”

Salina nodded.

“We have Princess Sweyn of the Modroc, and Prince Erold of Istlan, Clarissa Sett, the Illusionist and some craftsmen from Modroc. They’re going to visit, since Princess Sweyn is with child. This lady behind me is Eltha Tennet. She’s marrying Naveed, in some months, you’ve heard of that?”

The older woman, who was too old to be a child of Darian, gave a nod.

“I was sent a message about that, using fast riders. Also that I was being sent Princess Salina and Princess Lissa to abuse for some months? My brother mentioned slavery and hard labor?” Her face didn’t move at all, even if it was clear she was rippling with laughter, inside. It poured off of her, affecting the magical structure of the world, almost as if a spell.

It got Anders to smile, at least.

“Truly, that’s only partially correct, General.”

The woman scowled at him, but again, it didn’t seem to be what she was feeling, inside.

“Oh? How so, Prince Andros?”

The guards and even the other command staff there all stared at him, suddenly, as if he were important or something. It was nice to see, if not what the reality of the situation was. After all, he wasn’t the one there to be impressive. The girls were.

“They’re here as Apprentice Great Ones, not princesses. The rules for that are... Rather different.” He gave a wicked smile then. “For instance, they won’t whine, complain or throw fits. Then, if they do the wrong thing, you don’t have to yell at them, or scold. They are required, by oath, to fix any mistake as well as they are able, instantly.”

He shrugged then.

“The rest sounds right. For real. They both need to be pushed constantly, as far as magic. I was thinking a defensive wall for this place and new water and sewage structures, as a start? At the same time, they need the basic training of a soldier, and to at least see the tasks of every position possible, so they know, first-hand the hardships of such things.”

The woman was clearly fighting laughter, though it didn’t show externally at all. It was almost as if she thought that Anders had been making light of them, for his own reasons.

“Oh, and what will you be getting up to, as they sweat and suffer all day, drilling and learning to fight from horseback?”

He shrugged, holding Juniper’s reins in his left hand.

“Oh, playing and doing pretty things with magic, to entertain some people.” He waved, toward the river. “After I put in the new guard complex and a bridge over the river. I have the plans, to run by you, on that? Both sides will have the ability to destroy the bridge, and garrisons, to protect their lands from invasion. Small garrisons.”

That got a real seeming frown.

“I’ve had some word on that, as well. Not who was doing the work for us. Come this way. We have one of the command houses set aside for guests. Some of you will be in the empty barracks. Do we just have these two sleep in a ditch, do you think, Andros?”

“No? Not on a military base like this. Your men might try to take advantage of them. Just a word... They’ll die if they try that, too firmly.”

One of the men, another General, who had the last name Eta and looked a lot like Depak Sona, with a similar mustache, frowned.

“You’ll kill them?”

Anders snorted.

“Me? I doubt that I’d be able to save them, in time. Here...” Anders looked around, found a large boulder, that was probably larger than he should try to lift with magic and pointed at it.

“Lissa. Make it explode.”

The girl, on horseback, turned, aimed her right fist and opened it, just as Anders put up a shield, to protect them from the hand sized rocks that would have probably killed half of the people outside of the carriages there. Those fell with thuds for about ten seconds. It took work to protect them all, and enough scrambling that he was half panicked for a bit.

Then he smiled, coldly.

“Salina is a combat veteran, having helped to take Yanse, for Istlan, in the last campaign. She had to kill several hundred people for that, so... There. I’m not saying that the men will be punished for bad behavior, just that I wouldn’t expect them to survive it, if they tried. In the wrong way, at least. I’d definitely suggest they start with flowers and kind words.”

He wasn’t that worried about the topic, but it was important for that kind of thing to be out front.

Instead of acting worried, the men and women there all...

Stomped their feet and hooted.

“Finally! We get to have them for building, you say? Training, first, but... They’re good, or is that the only trick they have? Explosions and building?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, no. Really, they can’t do everything, but feel free to ask it of them and see what they can manage? They’re Apprentice Great Ones. So, much can be expected. Healing, daily communications with the capital, building structures, roads, water towers, digging ditches. Illusion and other things. Including repairing wagons, carts and to a lesser extent, weapons. We haven’t really worked that last one, but if they’re shown what is needed, I have no doubt they can learn, quickly. Also wizardry, of course.”

General Sendra clapped.

“Fine. Captain Sorra, set them to their paces. As if raw recruits. Half the day on magical duties, half in military training. You two... Obey and do not question.”

Captain Sorra, the woman there, who had a nice scar on her face, on the left side, grinned. It wasn’t polite.

“Off the horses. We need better clothing. Robes...” She shook her head, but didn’t let them change. The two Princesses were, instead, set to running. The Captain did it with them, traveling to the other side of the base, for some reason.

The General snorted.

“So, do you think they’ll escape before they learn anything, or simply demand better treatment?”

Anders had to maneuver Juniper to get the reins of the now abandoned horses. When he had those, he shook his head.

“Neither. They’re both serious about this. They also need command level training, so they understand what’s needed for that. In case a war comes. We should move the carriages and wagons, so that we aren’t blocking the road.” Not that anyone was coming in behind them, as of yet. There was a cart, being pulled by what seemed like a donkey, in the distance, however. Well behind them.

Sendra waved.

“This way, fourth house along officer’s row. You know where that is?”

He did, having put them there. Along with the numbers on them. It was the same basic layout in each of the camps, if they had the fancy houses at all. Some of them only had barracks and kitchens, as well as barns and bathhouses.

It meant moving to the front, but Sendra and the others followed along with him, which meant that everyone was at the correct place some minutes later.

Then they all started to get out. The General greeted each of them, including the craftsmen and artists, as well as Duma Sett. Even the palace guards got waved at, in certain cases.

“Now, like I said earlier, some of you will have to be in the empty barracks. We have a building free, so you won’t have to share with strangers. We’re putting the important people up in the house here?” She winked, which was for Anders, for some reason.

He could see that one. He’d actually met her before, after all.

“Princess Sweyn and Prince Erold, since they can share a room without it being untoward, being married. Duma Sett and Eltha. The guards on rotation. I’ll sleep in the barracks. We need to see to things in the morning. The bridge and all that? Then we, the people going to Billeth, need to be heading out, I think. Unless you have specific work for me here?”

That got a headshake.

“Not really.” Leaning in, the tall woman whispered. “Unless you need us to make something up?”

He shook his head.

“Not that. Good then. If I may have a word, with you and your people, about the building project? When you have time, of course.”

That, a good time for such things, seemed to be after the evening meal. A matter that the General figured would be far too simple for the people who had come. Anders doubted that really. They’d had fine enough food on the road, but what the military was going to be serving at their base would be good enough that there would be something to eat that everyone would be fine enough with to not turn their nose up at.

If not, they could go hungry, which was probably a bit mean of him to consider, really. The people with him weren’t nearly as soft as they might have been, considering the titles and the fact that even the men from Modroc had been hand-picked to go to a different land. Some of those had probably been as rewards for good work in the past.

There had also been the attack, on those peoples first day. Masked men, who had come with a Devica, an entity, that had tried to kill Sweyn and Eltha. Anders as well, but that had taken place after he’d started to fight. The masks had been a bit less ornate than the ones that the would-be assassins had worn in Barquea, but there was a similar and now that he thought about it, official seeming, line between all of them.

No one had been able to find the source of that attack. Really, it hadn’t even been investigated, once they’d understood that Ganges was behind things. The idea that Ganges or at least Rothina, hadn’t been behind that attack hadn’t even occurred to him to ask about. Indeed, he’d avoided the topic, since it was going to be too hard to hear them say that yes, they’d tried to have innocent people killed, for their own political ends. A thing that pretty much had to be going on that day, much less historically speaking.

You didn’t take over the world with pretty words, after all. Not that any history he’d ever heard of or read had spoken of.

It was possible, given that attack, that they were dealing with other people who wanted to kill for their own ends. If they didn’t give up, then it meant that Princess Sweyn was a whole lot less safe than he would have figured. Possibly Prince Erold, as well. He nearly panicked and tried to come up with a way to get them both to safety. In a land so far off that no one could touch them. Then, he realized that he was being impractical and probably was simply wrong. For one thing, in the last years, no one else had tried for Sweyn at all.

Not that he knew of.

A lot of things were going on behind his back, however. More to the real point, most people just didn’t think to share everything with the thirteen-year-old boy in their midst, for some reason. Not even one with a strange historian in his head.

That part was hard for him to wrap his mind around now. Having met Farad, the real man, still alive and walking about in a robust and very different way than what Anders knew about him, had changed how he thought about himself, a lot. In the days and months after the crystal had been placed against his forehead, Anders had felt, and considered, himself to be Farad Ibn Istel, linked to a little boy. His true spirit, come back from the land of the dead.

Now he felt as if he were Anders, connected to a partial memory of a man from long before.

Eventually he hoped to do what Rothina had mentioned and realize that he wasn’t either of those things, but was, in fact, simply himself. Not either part, or simply both, but something new. A different person than anyone would ever have expected.

A thing, he understood, wasn’t real at all.

No one expected anything of him, in particular. Not beyond what a boy his age, a young man, would have done or considered. It was himself who kept pushing to be more than that. Which made the idea of other people not thinking to inform him of everything in the world make a lot more sense, suddenly.

Anders knew some of it now, of course.

Before he’d left, he’d read the thoughts of the Sula, and then most of his family, the guards and the servants, specifically to see where the threat to Master Belford might lie. That had been shocking to work out, once he’d done it. Also a violation of people who, if they ever learned of it having happened, might well have him murdered for real.

Possibly in an official fashion.

The information collected was very different than what Nicoa Belford had feared however, though nearly as dark. He’d worried that those of the palace would murder him, for his perversions. At least he knew that they considered his love of men to be that. The truth was that the royal family barely cared about such things. Oh, if Anders had openly taken up with men as lovers, he’d be talked to about it and perhaps sent away from the palace if he refused to stop, but that was all. Sula Darian wouldn’t even have cut him off from funds needed to survive or suggest it was a punishment for his actions.

All that the Sula wanted from Belford over it was to be more cautious about who found out. A thing that had, delicately, been mentioned to the Ambassador. Only, of course, it had been done too cautiously, for a man from Istlan, who could have simply been slapped on the shoulder and told to keep it in his pants, without much harm to his ego or self-worth at all.

So a fear of murder over it had come into being.

No, the shock to Anders was that the man that Belford had taken up with, Chalmers, had been being abused by the servants at the palace, harassing him, to try and make him leave. The men were still seeing one another, which wasn’t being discussed, but the other man was being harmed, fairly regularly, by those who were supposed to be his friends.

Anders didn’t know how to help him, either. He had a list, in his head, of people to see about asking for aid, but he hadn’t yet, trying to work things out on his own first.

That was going to have to change, soon, however. Otherwise, Chalmers would probably leave his family and friends, to seek a safer and happier life. That, of course, might be the best plan, but it felt a bit lacking, to his mind.

After they all ate, which was serviceable military food, consisting of roasted meat strips, boiled grains and some hard-boiled eggs, along with some watered rum, he headed over to where he was to meet General Sendra and her people. At her house, which was number two, along the row of tan, double story dwellings.

Inside, the woman met him with a glare.

“Now, you want to give the Modroc free run of Barquea? A bridge... That sounds like a poor plan. That river ended the war. I’d ask if you knew that, but you clearly do, since you made the thing in the first place. How is this going to work?” She had people around her, but everyone else was kind of nodding along, instead of acting like they understood the need for people to communicate, if war was to be avoided in the future.

“With a permanent base on either side of the bridge. A small one. The bridge itself will be designed so that it’s very strong, but... Here, I have some pictures of what I’m planning?”

That meant him being led to a table, and rolling out the parchment he’d been working with and brought along for the meeting. He pointed at what looked like two beams. As if they were going to be made of wood, only, of course, that wasn’t his plan.

“Hit these spots, on either side, with a large hammer, on both sides of the bridge width-wise and the whole thing will fall into the river. Both sets of forces will be able to do this. One person acting alone can’t do it, barring the use of magic, of course.”

He tapped the paper, getting the General with the mustache, Eta, to nod.

“I see that part. Both sides can prevent people from invading easily. At the same time, one man acting alone can’t cripple travel. How big of a force do you plan to build for on each side?”

He actually knew that one, the Sula and Sulat both agreeing on that part of things.

“Ten soldiers on either side. So five dwellings, in all. A bath house, a common kitchen, a privy, only what I have planned for that is much nicer than just that, and two dwellings, for five people each. Those are for guests and travelers. They should be nice enough. Nicer than this place, so being on bridge duty should be held out as an honor, for only the best troops. An easy post, given as a reward? Perhaps a retirement, without being one in fact?” He fought a grin then.

So did the commanders.

Sendra sighed.

“We’re just off of a war. We’ve called it over... but Barquea didn’t start it in the first place. I know that there’s a marriage to link our two lands, but that hasn’t happened yet. Meaning we need to go carefully here, if at all possible.” She rolled her eyes then and got up from her chair, walked over to Anders and slapped him on the arm.

“Do the build in the morning? We don’t have to like it, we just have to make it happen. Even if the idea itself is foolish.”

It was, in part, his plan, but he had to agree with that himself.

Chapter sixteen

Anders stood back, looking at the two complexes, and the bridge between them. It was, he had to admit, rather pretty. The bridge wasn’t vast, since he didn’t want to invite thousands of armed men or dozens of heavy horses to ride across at one time, but it was covered at the top, spanned the river with a good amount of clearance, in case it ever tried to flood and was decorated in a way that he was rather proud of.

Every inch of space on the heavy stone was carved or engraved with some rather decent scroll work, or pictures of peaceful animals. Birds, mainly. Doves and gulls. There was a large amount of plant life as well. Including flowers and herbs known to bring about a tranquil mind. Things that would, he didn’t doubt, be lost on most who saw it. Even if they knew the plants he had in mind. The trick though wasn’t in some form of magic. No, he just wanted it to look decorative and as if it were a purposeful monument to peace between the two lands.

The barracks and facilities on either side where all in the same vein. Instead of plain, military style buildings, he’d created tiny homes, each fit for a baron, if not a king. They had plumbing and indoor facilities that even the palace of the Sula didn’t, as well as small cooking hearths in separate rooms, isolated from the houses themselves, to prevent the heat from affecting comfort by too much.

There were also roads, on both sides, which were hardened and had decorative edges to them, as well as walking paths, so that no one would be in the streets with the horses much, no more than needed. A way back from each military enclave, Anders built inns, in case travelers needed a place to sleep, since where the bridge had been placed was well away from anything of note, other than the river. There were also large pools for bathing. Things he didn’t make deep enough for swimming, but that did feed from the river, the water pumped into a dark colored holding tank, to warm with the sun. That allowed for the water in the pool below to stay clean, running constantly, if in a fashion that was barely noticeable.

After taking a moment, he glanced up at everyone else there, and nodded. Erold had Juniper, with all of his things packed on her back, which he took as a hint as to the plan for the day. The carriages pulling up did as well.

“Well, that’s done then. I take it we’re leaving? It’s early enough... Are you doing the road work first?”

That got a slow, rather disgruntled, nod.

“Yes. I... Sweyn and her people figure that it might be best if you don’t do the work on that part of things? It wouldn’t be insulting, but you’re a Prince of Barquea, and that could be seen as being... Odd. Not that this place won’t be. At least it’s on both sides.” The Prince shook his head then and sighed. “We need to do some of these up in Istlan, if we get a chance. It’s incredible.”

The work had taken three days, with one of those being him doing nothing but decorating. The bridge had taken a full day as well, since he’d used stone for it. That had been, Anders had to admit, brutal. Even the carvings on it had been. Stone was just so much harder to work in than almost anything else. The other structures, the buildings and the roads, were just made out of dirt. A solid enough form of it, but if you wanted to bother, you could scrape the walls away, pretty handily.

Yes, it would take a metal tool and some hours of effort, but it could be done. The bridge wasn’t doing that very easily at all. Then, it was in the water. At least the feet of the thing were submerged. That meant it had to be made of something that wouldn’t wear away if it got a little damp. Not that the buildings would, but over the centuries they’d melt under the rains there.

The bridge wouldn’t be coming down until something, or someone, took it down.

Anders nodded, getting his friend’s point, easily enough.

“Right. You’re from Istlan though and married into the royal family here, so it makes sense for you to do that kind of thing. Eltha is their Great One, and Duma Sett...” He grinned at that. The famous illusionist had very little reason to do that kind of thing. Except that, as annoying as it was, road work was useful and good practice.

There was a nod.

“Sweyn is planning on doing some small way stations, I believe? That and wells, so that travelers will have water in the desert.”

Erold seemed a bit uneasy about that, which Anders didn’t ask about. After all, Sweyn wasn’t powerful, magically speaking. That meant it was a physical hardship for her to do such work. She was also pregnant, and while Anders had found nothing in the books he had memorized that spoke of that being a hazard for a woman with child, there simply hadn’t been anything much on the idea at all. Small magics were healthy for the baby, but large things were an unknown. That could mean anything, from not being an issue, to it simply having never come up before in all of history.

At least not in a way that anyone had ever bothered to write down.

Taking the reins caused Juniper to dance to the side a bit. She was a steady horse, if a small one, but she seemed ready to get out on the road.

He grinned at the idea.

“Easy there, girl. Let me get on your back before you start walking away.” His voice was soft, and he hoped, pleasant. A few things had been worrying him of late, but none of them were a good excuse not to be polite to his horse.

As he got on her, Erold already on his black gelding, borrowed from the Sula, Anders sighed.

“You caught what’s going on with Master Belford?”

There was a rather stiff nod, as he looked straight ahead. No one was listening, even using magic, but the Prince still whispered.

“He spoke to me of that, if only briefly. He and a man from Barquea, a palace servant, have taken up and it doesn’t seem to be setting well with the people there?” He looked back. They were in Modroc now, after all. Still on the road that Anders had made, with everyone following along behind them. That wasn’t a long stretch, but there was a defined road past that, if not a thing that had been well finished and smoothed.

Anders nodded.

“He’s safe enough, personally. It’s a scandal, but nothing that would cause anyone to go after an Ambassador. I sent him a message to that affect, so he knows of it. No, it’s his friend who is taking the brunt of this. Low level torments. Mean pranks and shoving from his peers, that kind of thing. He’s being driven from the palace. I... Don’t know what to do, to prevent that or aid him.”

Erold sucked in a huge breath and then, slowly, let it out.

“We probably can’t do anything, Anders. This, Barquea, isn’t our land. Even as a named prince of some rank there, you can’t hope to navigate things properly. More, these are grown men. It’s good to think of them, but they knew the risks they were taking, doing that kind of thing here. Truly, allowing themselves to be caught... That was lazy of them.” The Prince sounded hard on the topic, which was different enough that Anders, was taken aback.

Oddly, it was the portion of his being that had once been Farad that understood.

“I agree. It’s a different land, with different rules and Master Belford is representing Istlan there. If he couldn’t help himself, his need being that powerful, then he at least should have been careful enough to protect his new friend.” Anders shrugged. “I’d still help the man, if I could think of anything. Other than having him move to Istlan, I can’t, however. That’s probably a bit extreme, really. He’ll eventually just leave the palace and seek a new life, away from there. I suppose we could arrange for some coins for him, to ease his way?”

That got a somber nod.

“Perhaps. It really isn’t our business, so, if you do that, be... Discreet?”

That bit of advice had Anders nodding in agreement. Not really feeling any better about the whole thing, but there was at least the inkling of a plan for his own behavior, which was enough for the moment.

Then, gently nudging his horse with his heels, Erold moved to the front by several lengths, and started to make the road anew. It was hard work, but the ground was dry and while it needed to be smoothed, the Prince was well used to such labor.

For his portion, Anders rode in a trance that day, using eyes and mind to seek out possible attack in the dry wastelands they traveled through. Not all of it was desolate, he realized. There were patches of green in various locations, hidden in the valleys between the rocky outcroppings. Several small streams and two larger rivers, as well. The place looked barren, the life being hidden by the tan rocks that stuck up, but after some hours of riding, the world turned green again.

One of the guards, who was on a horse, and familiar, having been in Istlan for over a year, rode up, after the mid-day stop.

“The Princess is suggesting we put in here, for the night? It’s early to stop, but we won’t make the next city tonight. It’s about fifteen miles away.”

That meant they probably could have reached it, if they’d hurried a bit, but Anders was fine with going slowly. After all, he was, more or less, just there to travel, and see the sights. Everything important that he had to do was either for a later date, like his school, or was finished.

“One moment?” He sought water, as well as a good place to stay, that wouldn’t be occupied on the road. There was, it turned out, a nice spot, about a mile and a half in front of them.

“Water and a flat camping spot, that way a bit? A little under two miles. No one is watching us, or seeking to harm us. Not that I can find.” A wizard could be tricked and there were complete schools that taught nothing other than that sort of skill.

He didn’t know if the Modroc had that sort of thing as a discipline, but given a lot of it wasn’t magic, just being clever in how one moved or acted in the world, it was very possible. Forgetting that, or the idea that assassins had come from the land he was in, twice, would aid no one. Well, except anyone trying to kill one of them.

For some reason, the idea of being helpful to them wasn’t high on his list of things to get done.

The guard, Damel, nodded.

“As you will, Shaman. I shall spread the word on that. You can speak to the Princess as to why her will is being thwarted?”

Anders snorted.

“Sure, sure... Dump the hard things on me. I’ll do that now.”

He rode back to the nicely decorated tan carriage, and tapped on the side he thought Sweyn was on. Indeed, she poked her head out from the window and smiled.

“Anders?”

“There’s water and a nice place to put up a building or two, about a mile and some small distance down the road. Do you have need of stopping now, or is that fine for you?”

She sighed. It seemed much put upon.

“I need to use the facilities. There are some bushes along here at least. That’s hardly to the dignity of a Princess, is it?” She was jesting in tone, at least.

Anders shrugged.

“A point. Let me call a break. I’ll see to the rest of what is needed?”

Everyone stopped when he yelled, then stood while he took a quarter hour to raise a small hut, which held bathing and washing facilities. There was no water there, on the surface, so he pulled it from deep underground. That wouldn’t help the next person, of course, but it worked for that day, and several people used it, before they got back on the road.

Then, of course, they ended up stopping, less than forty minutes later.

He grinned at it, but didn’t make a large deal out of it. After all, it was an adventure for him, at that point. A thing he tried to keep in mind as he collected wood for a fire, as a decently nice set of buildings and water towers went up. Everyone except for him got to work on those. Anders wasn’t even needed to prepare food or light the fire, since one of the men with them was a cook. One fully trained in Modroc style cuisine, as well as making such things on the road.

So he stood there for a few moments, then tilted his head, and decided to focus on some illusion work. After all, Duma Sett had showed him how very much he could improve what he’d been doing. A lot of it came down to the smallest pieces of things involved, as well. True attention to the details of what was being shown. So, settling on the ground and entering a trance, he worked on a single idea. A person. One who didn’t exist, but who would look, feel and even smell correct.

Everything, from the fit of his boots, to the lines on his face were made to be so real that no one would guess he wasn’t simply riding with them. Except of course, that no one knew the fellow. To that end, Anders gave him both a lute and a gurdy, as well as more colorful clothing. The instruments were wrong for that part of the world, but so was the look of the man, having blond hair and being of a more Yansian aspect.

It was Eltha who came to get him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Anders? We have food ready.” She waited for him to open his eyes, her own locking with his. “Were you speaking to someone?”

“Oh, no. Not that I shouldn’t see to that as well, before I go to sleep. I was just working on a small illusion. Trying to improve my skills that way, since everyone else took care of the rest of... Everything.” He grinned at the idea. “Which, well, we all knew I wasn’t really needed for this part of things, from the start.”

That got snorted at.

“I bet Prince Naveed is grateful that you came. Anyway, you can show me what you were working on, after the meal? I’m starving, for some reason.”

He was as well, so got to his feet, muttered a cleaning spell to remove the dust and dirt and went into the inn that had been pulled from the Earth. It was nice, but in the same style as the things they’d been making in Barquea and Istlan, for the same purpose.

The food, he had to admit, was better than the things that he’d been making on the road. Different than anything he’d ever had, but well done. There were a lot of beans, fried bread and finely chopped greens and herbs, but also dried fruit and somehow, cheese. A thing that he hadn’t seen much of since leaving Istlan.

There was also a small cake for dessert, topped with sugar that had been melted in an interesting fashion.

Now that they were in Modroc, he wasn’t even allowed to help clean up the dishes after the meal it seemed. Instead, Eltha, being a bit mean, clapped her hands.

“Now, Prince Anders has a small illusion for us? We should all sit and act amazed, even if it’s lacking in some way. It would be rude to do otherwise.” She grinned, teasing him. Duma Sett covered her mouth and tittered at the words, and Princess Sweyn nodded.

As if he was really going to need to be propped up that way.

So he nodded and played along. It seemed to be the way the Modroc interacted, much of the time. Especially in their own language or with friends.

“Exactly so. Now...” He took a deep breath, muttered some words...

Then looked up when a knock came on the front door of the inn. A pounding. Followed by a voice. Speaking the language of the land they were in.

“Hello the inn! Is anyone inside? I’m but a weary traveler from afar.”

One of the men, who had been acting as a guard, looked troubled and moved to the door, opening it as some of the others grabbed weapons. Covertly, but they had them.

When the tall, rather pale man moved inside, he smiled, hugely.

“Ah, there are people! This is a lovely establishment. My name is Followland Hearth, a bard from the exotic and strange northland known as Yanse! I could, if it suits you, play for my supper and a place to lay my head this night? This... I haven’t seen the like of such a place before, to be honest. It’s a palace, set alone on the road. A true marvel!” He sounded bold and large, as if he performed for a living.

Princess Sweyn, seeming a bit mistrustful of the strange man, nodded. Slowly.

“Be welcome, then, as a guest here. We have food, I think?”

They did and a small, but real enough, plate was settled in front of the man. Anders had to scramble to make him seem to be eating. Remembering to make the food vanish, which he had no way to really do, so had to hide it, holding it in the air, inside of Followland the Bard. Then he wiped his hands carefully, as he finished his meal and drank some berry juice. That was harder to hold than the food was, being slippery.

Then, moving to stand near the hearth, which had no fire in it, that not being needed in the warm air of Modroc that night, the man took out his lute and strummed a rather complicated tune. On the second song, as everyone relaxed, he started to sing. It was a simple enough love ballad, during which he alternated looking into Sweyn, Duma Sett and Eltha’s eyes, then settled on Sondra, for the last half, flirting with her rather outrageously. Enough that a few of the men glared at him.

He moved to the gurdy, the music becoming more intense then, and a bit darker. It wasn’t a thing that was heard in any land, as far as Anders knew, but got attention, and wide eyes from everyone, as they clapped along with the performer.

At the end of ten different songs, a few of them having provoked dancing from various people, the blond man bowed.

“Thank you all for watching my humble act! Now, I should find my bed.” He moved, boldly, and took Sondra by the hand, as if she was supposed to go with him for that. The woman, being good that way, played along, instead of acting insulted by the idea.

Then, letting go, the man bowed... And vanished.

Everyone in the room froze. Except Anders, who had to scramble to move the food and drink. He used the plate for that, which was sitting on the table and the earthen drinking mug that had been provided for the musician.

It took nearly half a minute for anyone to respond with more than wide eyes or muttered comments asking if they were under attack. When that happened, it was Duma Sett.

“Incredible, Dumo Anders!” She actually clapped and stomped in a rather undignified, but clearly heartfelt fashion. After a moment, everyone getting the idea, they all did that. Even Erold.

When that settled, a minute or so later, Eltha moved and gave him a hug.

“So, where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged, allowing the woman to hold him, even if everyone was watching. It was, he had to figure, nice enough. Not meant to be too flirtatious, of course. She was an adult woman and he was... He nearly blinked but didn’t ask the date. Not yet.

“I learned it from Duma Sett, of course. In our practices. She demonstrated how very much I have yet to learn about her art. This was my first attempt at improving. There are things to work on, of course.”

The Duma nodded.

“Indeed. He should have had traveling companions, for instance. Perhaps other musicians? A pretty wife or female companion to glare at Sondra as he flirted with her as he did?”

She was jesting with him, but Anders could see that part of things. It would be hard to hold five or six people, each doing different things and all seeming equally real at one time, however.

“I... will need to work on that? Really, I should get you and Eltha to aid me in that?”

The women both rolled their eyes then.

Eltha seemed slightly annoyed.

“No? Do your own work, Anders. You can do it. If we took part, then everyone would think it was our efforts, propping you up. Now, if we did something truly large, or incredibly complicated, that might work? Not that this didn’t. You’d told me you were doing illusion and got me to forget. Me. It’s my profession and I honestly couldn’t tell that Followland wasn’t real. Still, you should work out the scene that Clarisse put forward, and do this again in a few days? With new music, as well, of course. I liked that part. You could just make the music and be popular here, I wager.”

Having nothing else to do, he nodded. It would be something to occupy his time, if nothing else.

“That sounds fun. I’ll work on that.”

After that, even if it was early, everyone turned in for the night. At least, they went to their separate rooms. Anders had his own space, so did his nightly bow work, pulling it three hundred times while envisioning aiming at a target and releasing smoothly in his mind, with each move, and then doing a review of all of his magical practices, before bed. It took a while to get through, and was a little boring, but he knew that not practicing wasn’t going to allow him to become better.

Then, since it really wasn’t too late, he contacted everyone he was supposed to, using magic. First he did the students. Alice Cook, Daren Willet and Jeld. Also, Master Tolan, since he needed to be kept up on such things as well, having been learning magician’s skills of late. The man was mastering that art as well, of course.

It was a thing that the old man kept acting surprised about that didn’t amaze Anders at all. The man was one of the greatest wizards in the world. Known on several continents for his work that way. To do that required powerful skills of the mind, which lent themselves to many types and styles of magical work. Probably other things as well, really. Anything that could benefit from focused control of thought.

Plus, unlike some of the others, like Jeld and Alice, Tolan actually spent part of each day in practice, even if there wasn’t a new lesson being delivered to him. Daren had taken to doing something similar, if at a slower, more relaxed, pace.

Gull, the guardsman, had to be included in the lessons, as an afterthought. Anders felt poorly about having left him out. Not that the man was brilliant when it came to such things. He wasn’t bad though and when reminded would practice gamely enough. He could see the use for things such as Wizardry, healing and combat magic and wasn’t afraid of it.

To him it was just another skill, to aid in battle. Like spear work, or learning to use a crossbow. A thing that didn’t come up, most days, but that might be helpful, down the line. It was, Anders had to think, about what he needed to expect from an average, rather middling, student that way. The truly low performers...

Well, he’d stopped bothering with them. They used a bit of magic to clean the rooms now, in the Ambassadors’ wing, but that was about all, for most of the servants who had bothered to try and learn any magic at all.

Then, wondering if he was going to be screamed at, he contacted Lissa and Salina. The reply that came back, from the older princess, was not pleased.

“We had to dig latrines today! By hand. Worse, we had to clear out the old one and cart the... leavings, away! I had to invent a new spell to heal blisters! I hate this. I bathed twice and I still smell.”

The words repeated, twenty times, which Anders took as the woman throwing a bit of a fit.

Lissa wasn’t a lot happier, but she only sent her message five times, which was the standard for such things, to give one time to write the words down.

“This really isn’t much fun. We were told it wouldn’t be. On the good side, this won’t be forever. Captain Entia takes over our instruction in a few days. That’s horse work. Feeding and cleaning the stables. Salina will love that part, I wager.”

He sent a different message back, to both of them, so they knew they weren’t alone. Then he got with the rest of the people he was supposed to. At least that he was required to be in touch with, to his own way of thinking.

Prince Alpert, his mother, Prince Naveed and of course, Depak Sona.

Only one of them bothered to reply. Probably because only one of them knew how to do that kind of thing. Yet, at least.

Depak’s voice hit his ears, as if the man was standing behind him.

“Anders. We have news about the death cult that pursues Naveed. A local branch of their order corrupted Lassa and perhaps some others here. We’re investigating. Naveed wasn’t the only target. Guard Tennet. More as soon as we have anything. Be careful. These people are dangerous.”

That played five times as well. Anders didn’t bother to write it down. He had the salient portion of it. He needed to protect Eltha from assassins. A thing that wouldn’t be simple or easy. At least it wouldn’t be, if he were going to not tell her about it. That would be foolish. She was a Great One and could, in theory, protect herself. At least as long as she knew that attack was possible. Oh, she needed to improve her skills in many ways, but even with only what she knew at that moment, it would be difficult to remove her from the playing field.

Unless someone in their midst had been corrupted, of course.

In that case, things could be very dangerous, indeed.

Feeling a bit low for doing it, Anders spent the rest of the night scouring the minds of his friends and travel companions. Some of them had secrets, but none of them intended harm to anyone else there. Doing that meant sleeping late and waking tired, of course. No one mentioned his drooping eyes in the morning, after he scrubbed up in cold water and ate some dried fruit and soft bread, before hitting the road.

Since Duma Sett was taking a turn at road construction that day, Anders got Eltha to ride near him and Erold, and then drilled on combat magics. Several different types, as well as turning invisible, using the trick he had for that. When the others could both do it, and hold that state for an hour, he finally explained.

“I had word from Depak last night. It seems that the assassins, the Blades of the Goddess, are after you, not just Naveed, Eltha. So far the rest of us seem clear that way.”

The woman pursed her lips then and made an annoyed sound.

“I’d wondered. That attack, in Istlan? They went for me, first. Then you, Anders, when you fought them off, but that never seemed correct, did it? Why go for me?”

Prince Erold cleared his throat.

“Because the portents say that you and Naveed marry and bring the two lands together in peace? Something that these people don’t want, at any rate. If it wasn’t something that you’d want, personally, you’d think that they’d just tell you, so you could avoid it. Not that we truly have an answer there. That’s my speculation on it, with what I know right this moment.”

That wasn’t any worse than what Anders had on the topic.

Which was nothing much, at the moment.

“So, back to practicing then. We need to all be using wizard skills, constantly, from this point forward. No one with us is an enemy, that I can determine. Both of you need to double check that, of course.” He grinned then. “You know, if these people don’t want you to marry so badly, I oddly want to see it happen. That’s probably me just being contrary, but there you have it.”

Oddly enough, both Eltha and Erold nodded along with him, in agreement.

Chapter seventeen

Everything was fine until they got to the first city along their route. That part frankly shocked Anders, when he saw it in the distance. It was a place larger than anything else like it he had ever seen. There were buildings that seemed to reach well into the sky, like sticks tucked into the Earth, arrayed on a grid of streets. Each of those was busy with wagons, horses and strange tiny carriages, meant only to carry one or two people.

The roads were of hard stone, laid carefully and in good repair. The place had a tan look to it, with a riot of bright colors accenting it. For all of its massive size, and its people dressed in bright clothes, with fanciful designs, the place didn’t really smell that much. A bit of horse and the scent of cooking and smoke, but nothing too foul, really.

Sweyn waved at it, as they got out of the carriages or off their horses, near an inn. At least, Anders thought it was one of those. It had a fine-looking sign, that declared the place as The Grasslands. It stretched up into the sky in a grand spiral twist, nearly two hundred feet and had a covered area for the horses and carriages to move under, for unloading. Juniper was fine with that, but the other horses seemed worried about having something over their head like they suddenly were.

The trouble wasn’t the city, of course. It wasn’t even that the people there didn’t want him, a Prince of Barquea, to visit them. They heard the name and title when it had been given, and smiled, bobbing a bit in a way that wasn’t really a bow at all. Then, no one got that kind of thing, so Anders didn’t take it as being an insult.

No, the issue was that they were traveling with Clarisse Sett. When that was discovered, people thronged their inn, making it almost impossible to come or go at all.

They had to go inside to pay for the rooms, which, for some reason, didn’t get the people to back away at all. Girls, in particular, their dresses and scarves flying, ran inside, and tried to touch Duma Sett. Just patting or stroking her. Like a pet.

Anders nearly started making people explode, in the press of bodies. He held his hand, thankfully, and called out instead.

“Hold! Hold!” No one listened to him, pressing in as they were. That and screaming. So he used a bit of illusion, and made his voice very loud. Also commanding, as he called out, in Modroc.

“I said hold! Move back! Don’t touch people without permission. It’s rude and unwelcome.”

That, his near deafening yelling, worked. For about ten seconds. Then he was totally ignored, as Eltha leaned into him, speaking almost directly into his ear, so she could be heard.

“It’s no good. They won’t leave until she does. Next time we should hide that she’s with us. Make her look like an old matron or a dock hand.”

Anders nodded, having seen something like what was happening before, with Depak Sona. That had been subdued, compared to what he was seeing there, of course. It felt like the crowd was about to go for blood, at any moment. There was actual shouting and a few screams of pain, as people harmed each other, trying to press in.

“Ah... so...”

The answer was that they had to wait for their names to be taken and rooms to be assigned. They were each given a room key, even if they were sharing a space with someone else, and then, as soon as they were taken to the large staircase, they ran. Scurried at least. With people trying to follow them, as the strangely dressed men and women from the inn stood in the way, valiantly attempting to allow them time to escape.

Anders tightened, as they walked up the spiral steps, which wound around the building, on the inside. The whole space was a spiral, with all the rooms on what seemed to be a slightly different level. Anders didn’t have the lowest room, being firmly in the middle of their group, in fact. Room seventy-three. Next to him, in seventy-two was a collection of several familiar men from Modroc. On the other side was Duma Sett, which meant that Anders probably wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep. Not with all the carrying on that was happening.

The building was a marvel, and the room had large glass windows, without even a single air bubble in them. As he closed his room door, which was made of fine, heavy and dark wood of a type he’d never seen before, a group of people, a mixed group of young men and women, dashed up the stairs, directly at him.

Feeling a bit mean, he made a wall form across the stairs. One that would, when touched, feel real. That meant he was gasping about half a minute later, as the gray stone wall, based on the castle he grew up in as far as look went, wasn’t just touched, but from the energy drains happening, it was being petted, struck and even kicked. By at least ten different people, on a fairly constant basis.

That meant he was standing in the hallway, to hold it in place. Which, interestingly, had Duma Sett in next to him, not too long later.

“Well, that will get around, I bet! Now I’ll be known for making real walls suddenly appear, no doubt.”

Anders got her meaning. No one there knew, or expected, anyone else in their group to be doing any magic at all. Given the nature of such things in Modroc, that only made sense. Gasping a bit, Anders finally pointed at the building.

“This place is a marvel. How are the buildings made?”

That had the woman winking at him.

“It’s a combination of rather boring workmen with hammers and normal materials and Devica. They are capable of great things, if entreated properly. They don’t actually make the structures. They lift the large things for us, up into the sky? Though, I believe that there are city Devica who bring the water up into the towers on the top of the buildings? I never really asked about that, myself. I wasn’t suited to Shamanism, as a child, so was given other training.”

“Ah! That makes sense. I saw one of that sort lift and move an inconvenient river, once. A friend of Far’s.”

The pressing on the wall slowed, or at least the energy drain did. It didn’t stop, of course, so he held it in place, waiting for the people to go away. It was slightly annoying, having his energy drain like that. It wasn’t simply the work, either. It was the pattern of the effort. He couldn’t see when it would be happening and it was staccato and not regular in how it happened at all.

Clarisse stood next to him, as if waiting for him to leave his post. That or fight. A thing she could do with magic now, if the need arose. They needed to drill on that kind of thing more, if assassins might be coming for Eltha. Duma Sett was often in the same room with her, after all.

Plus, it seemed like she needed to learn to hide herself, while moving. At least if she was going out in a city.

“Are there many cities like this here? I think the largest one in Yanse is only this large and this place is bigger than Kingston.” He was just making conversation, but the Duma went silent, for a bit.

“I... This isn’t even a major city here, Prince Anders. We have ten or so this big and six that are larger. Billeth is, oh, ten or more times larger than this place? It’s impressive, I suppose.”

Anders understood that she wasn’t trying to rub in how massive and well-built the cities of her land were, compared to what must seem like a collection of huts that Kingston had to seem to her. They tended to be huts made of stone, true, but still, it was a humble place, comparatively. Part of him felt humbled at the information.

Rather than let that get to him, he sighed.

“It’s an incredible place, compared to what we have in Istlan. Well, we’ll have some nicer things, soon. I just have to teach more people to do the work, making buildings and all that. Not an issue, I’m certain.”

A warm hand patted him on the shoulder.

“For you? That’s simply the truth, Dumo Anders. Also, if you come and live here, you can likely aid us in our own aesthetics? That bridge you built was lovely. I can guarantee that the men and women of our military won’t be staying in any place that nice otherwise. Many of the Devica refuse to aid in combat or related things. Those that can be... Coerced to such lengths tend to be the weaker of their kind and rather surly to begin with.”

Anders nodded, holding the wall across the stairs.

“I’d be upset too, if someone was forcing me to fight.”

“Rather. They are very good at building and aiding in farm work, however. I noticed that you’ve been working with some of that sort, of late? That’s rather... Powerful, isn’t it? You’re a force in your own person and you can communicate with and entreat such beings?”

He nodded, not explaining. The woman had heard a lot about Far, after all. What Anders suspected she knew and hadn’t bothered to check on was if she understood he had a copy of what that man once was in his head.

After fifteen minutes or so, the noise and other indicators of people seemed to leave, so, cautiously, Anders made the stone seeming of a wall vanish. Rather, he dropped it. Only to find that seven people, mainly girls between fourteen and twenty by their looks, and one young man who was dressed as an employee, were standing there.

The dark-haired man looked relieved and stepped forward.

“Oh, good! I was in a panic, thinking it was permanent. I need to take this wine and fruit to various people. Clarisse Sett, naturally, also Princess Sweyn? She has a husband now, I hear? One of the blond boys, right?”

The man, clearly getting who was standing there, and pretending that they weren’t themselves, seemed affable enough, if a bit familiar. That was, Anders thought, a Modroc thing. They were like that, with almost everyone. At least inside their own land.

So he nodded.

“The other one with light hair. I’m Anders. Um, room seventy-three?”

The man, trying hard not to look at Duma Sett, seemed annoyed by the girls and women trying to move in behind him.

“Back, back you beasts! I’ll call the guard on you, if you don’t move away!” He sounded too playful, so no one moved at all. Not even to aid him with the several large baskets he had. Anders did that, not being too awful as a person. Duma Sett took one as well.

“You’ll aid our friend in delivering these, Dumo Brolly? If, of course, you aren’t needed to put that wall back up?” She let a single eyebrow rise, and looked at the girls there. Getting, clearly, their response before it even came.

One of the woman, probably the oldest there, gasped.

“Is he your new apprentice? That wall was solid!”

Clarisse laughed. It was a very fake sounding thing.

“Notice, I called him Dumo Brolly? He is a master of many types of magic. Including illusion.”

Another of the girls rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her loose red and gold colored wrap style dress. It was an unusual thing, except that, clearly, the fashion was popular there, since several of the other women were basically wearing the same thing.

“He’s a bit young to be a master of anything, isn’t he? Also, a man... Can men do illusions at all?”

Anders, holding several of the baskets, the man with the rest trying to walk away, rolled his own eyes back in response.

“It isn’t my best art. What do you want to see?”

Clarisse narrowed her eyes, and smiled, a bit wickedly. Then she crossed her arms.

“Done it now, haven’t you? Well, you challenged him. Go on, come up with what you want to see? Something clever, or everyone will think you’re boring.”

The oldest woman, who was perhaps twenty, spoke then.

“My greatest desire?”

The words were debated, among the others, since that wasn’t a thing that a normal illusionist could have known. Not without being told. Anders had to drop into a trance, to find out what she really and truly held that way. It was just a man. The image did make him seem attractive, and tall, but not so much as to seem impossible to reproduce. He had to mutter a bit, but no one noticed him doing it.

Not even when the man came walking down the stairs. Seeming rather real.

The woman went wide eyed, on seeing him.

“Fargoth? What are you doing here? I...”

The man, who was sturdy, in a lean way, and easily a head taller than Anders, who wasn’t a short person at all, smiled.

“Liasa? I didn’t expect to see you here! How wonderful. Clarisse and I were just speaking of you, earlier. She and I are planning to get married, isn’t that incredible?” He moved in, and took Duma Sett’s hand. She did it back, clearly being nearly as mean as Anders was. Reaching out, with the other hand, the seeming of Fargoth placed a hand on the girl’s arm.

Then he shook his head.

“It’s a shame, really. I always liked you, but you didn’t seem to return my feelings, so I eventually moved on. Well, you’ll come to the wedding?”

The girl, Liasa, looked about ready to cry, and in shock, so Anders had the vision take her hand, and hold it.

“Also, Liasa?”

The return voice was quiet and pained.

“Yes?”

“I’m an illusion.”

Everyone looked at the scene then, as Liasa looked up.

“Sorry, you’re what?”

“An illusion. You asked Anders to make your heart’s desire? This was a bit rude of him, but you are all kind of invading the inn here, so... Anyway, I’m not real.” Then he vanished. That had everyone standing there open mouthed, accept Clarisse.

She simply cleared her throat.

“So, yes, men can be illusionists. Now, go on, before he decides to turn you all into sea slugs. Go... Go...” She grinned, as the girls, all but one of them, scurried off. That last one, of course, was Liasa.

She frowned, at Anders.

“You’re an evil man, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t pleased with him, it was clear.

Still, she also wasn’t wrong, given what he’d just done. It truly hadn’t been all that kind of him.

He bowed, using first courtly as well as he could standing on the stairs.

“Forgive me. I meant it to be humorous and clearly took things too far.” He held the move, waiting. The woman simply huffed at him. Then, eventually, smiled.

“Fine. This time. You should be kinder to people. Dumo Brolly. That was... I thought it was really him. He touched me? Illusion isn’t like that...”

Anders made a small ball, about a hand span wide, glowing softly in red, appear in front of the girl. Then he muttered a few words, which probably seemed like nonsense.

“Pluck it from the air?”

It took work for him to follow what she was doing with her hand, but the ball, the image of it in his mind, responded properly to her touch. The drain from that was relatively tiny, since she just tossed it in the air, and then to Duma Sett, who snagged it herself, and threw it back. Halfway to the girl, it stopped and hovered, then went away, as if it had never been there at all. Which, of course, was the truth.

“Only a seeming. Made to feel real, but that too is only an illusion. Now, we should go and pass out these wonderful baskets. Does everyone get this kind of thing?” That was for the man who worked there, who shook his head.

“Oh, no, Dumo Brolly. Most who stay here don’t get gifts at all. We have a Princess and her husband in. I hear he’s from the far north? That must be interesting. This way? We need to start at room Seventy-six. Then work back to seventy-three.”

They did that, standing on the strange triangular stone steps what whole time. Working down the spiral, one door at a time. Each of the rooms seemed to take up about one tenth of the space that a real room would have, in a proper building.

Not that he wasn’t stealing the plans for the one he was in, to see if he could copy it. It would be interesting to try some different things, having made about a hundred and thirty buildings of one sort or another, on his own, so far. He’d thought he was being daring when he’d put a fourth floor on some of them. It was clear that a lot more could be done that way, if one had the trick of it.

Once he was back in his room, Anders expected to be abandoned, until the morning came. He had food, and it was early enough in the day that he probably needed to find something to do, instead of just eating and going to bed. That idea was why, when a knock came at his chamber door, about two hours later, he jumped, more than a bit. He’d simply been considering fighting with a stick and practicing some of the movements, aiming at an image he held in his mind, which meant he had his staff in his left hand as he opened the door.

The man who surged in then, pushing him back, was struck on the leg, near the knee, rather soundly. That didn’t stop him, but the weapon in his hand was...

A small bunch of flowers. A decently nice bundle of them.

So, even if it was tempting, knowing the man could still be a killer, even if he was older with gray hair and a full beard, not wearing a mask at all, Anders held his hand.

Mainly because the fellow called out, sounding pained. Most of the fighters that Anders had faced had done that as well, but this man sounded scared. Also, not well armed for a battle, unless the flowers held a hidden blade. To that end, he struck the man on the left wrist, forcing him to drop them. They landed easily, without any clanking noise.

“Name yourself, please sir?”

He was being a bit formal, but the man didn’t speak to him, simply grimacing, in discomfort.

“Or, I suppose you can just sit there and not say anything. Whichever pleases you.” Anders had all day, after all. If he lost sleep, guarding the man, then he did.

The fellow looked down and made a strangled sound.

“I came to see her? My Clarisse. My heart and love. She’s been gone for so long and...”

Anders started out by shaking his head.

“No? If you were expected, or even welcome, you wouldn’t have rushed into the room. That speaks of sinister intent. I’m not really certain what to do, given that.” He shrugged. “Help! Intruder! Help!”

The door was still open, so he wasn’t shocked when a dozen people ran in, most of them armed. Not all of them were people that he knew, however, which was interesting. One of them was an older man in a blue outfit that was wrapped around him, with a head wrap on that had a large stone in the middle of the front and large white feather sticking out. He was barrel chested and well wrinkled.

He also had a blade drawn, and was standing there, seeming baffled over the whole thing.

Which Anders could understand.

“He forced his way in, when I opened the door. I hit him a few times, with my stick. Then he started speaking about Duma Sett, as if they were familiar, which could be true, but as I said to him, if he was expected, or even welcome, then why rush in and push me out of the way like that?”

The man stammered a bit, but rallied when Clarisse and Eltha came in.

“Ladies! How wonderful to see you. I seem to have gotten the wrong room. This fine young fellow was just mentioning that I might not want to seem so eager?”

Duma Sett rolled her eyes.

“Kaidan. I wasn’t expecting you to try something like this until we got to Billeth. I see you met Prince Anders? Anders Brolly. A nobleman of three lands, before you try to hire him for your circus.”

The man, gingerly, stood up.

“Well met, then, Prince Brolly. That... Why would I try to hire him, dear?”

Clarisse narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not your dear. Not any longer. If you recall, you divorced me? Rather publicly, as I recall. So, what brings you here, starting fights with young men in their rented rooms? That’s a change for you, isn’t it? Going after a man like that?”

The man glowered then, and glared.

“Divorce? I merely suggested that you go away for a time. I didn’t rebuke you. Pretending that I did, when that isn’t what happened is against the law, Clarisse. Also, the show needs you. Proceeds are down sixty percent since you left.”

Eltha, being a kind soul, looked at everyone else there and shrugged.

“This is Kaidan Sett. He used to be married to Clarisse. It isn’t our business. Other than you assaulting a Prince of a different land. Istlan, Barquea, and Yanse, in fact. That’s not good. You aren’t injured, are you, Anders?”

She pretended to fawn over him, clearly showing that she wasn’t taking the new man, Kaidan, that seriously.

Which was good enough, since Clarisse was arguing with him, rather firmly.

“No, I heard what you said. That you didn’t need me and that I was holding you back and you wanted me gone. I didn’t mistake your meaning. The vows were broken and by you. I won’t be coming back. Not even to help you make coin. Now, I suggest you leave, or I’ll show you some of the new magic that I’ve learned, while I was away?” She seemed cold then.

The man laughed.

“You’re a bit old to be learning new things, aren’t you? What could you learn in that cold northland, anyway? How to make a fire, so you don’t freeze in the night? More illusions?”

The man flew backwards, rather hard enough that his feet left the ground. The wall, thankfully, wasn’t too far away, so he didn’t build up a lot of speed before striking it. The Duma stood there, her eyes bright and palm out, holding him in place with the move.

A thing Anders had never even considered doing, himself. It was working rather well.

The man gasped.

“We... could... add this to the act?”

Those words had the fellow dropped, rather suddenly. He was breathing hard, but didn’t try to strike anyone over his humbling. Indeed, he acted rather as if it was just a normal discussion, more than anything else. It was a bit obnoxious, Anders had to think.

“So, you really have learned some new things? Amazing. What else can you do? Did Eltha learn anything like that, do you think? You’re the big draw, Clarisse, but her more adult shows were missed as well. We could have you show some tricks like this, while nude, perhaps?”

It was interesting, but no one acted as if that was an insult, not even Eltha. She seemed mildly amused, actually.

Anders cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, but if we’re going to be out of this, we should probably allow these people to see themselves to another room? Or this one, but then I have no place to go.”

Eltha nodded.

“Good point, Prince Anders. We should all leave. Let them stay here? That way, if they argue for too long, we can come and break them up. We can sit in my room?”

Kaidan Sett smiled then.

“Ah, are you close friends, then? A young prince... Naughty of you, given the age of the boy, but he is exotic, with that hair and those gemlike eyes. Is that why you didn’t want me to hire him away? You fear that your apprentice would lose her... friend?”

Eltha pulled Anders away, acting as if he was going to kill the man for saying such rude and unkind things. Only, the fellow, for all he seemed strange, wasn’t being mean about it. He honestly sounded as if he simply meant what he was suggesting.

They walked up that stair, with everyone else heading to their own rooms. Eltha was in with Sondra, several rooms upward. That meant he was tucked into the space with the two women, shortly enough. Sondra was inside, standing there, looking ready to fight, clutching a large, but sharp looking, blade. Not well, or aggressively, but she’d armed herself and it seemed like a thing that was meant for the purpose of ending anyone who wanted to abuse her.

She nodded, on seeing Anders.

“What happened?”

Eltha went first, growling.

“Kaidan Sett burst into Anders room, and was lightly thrashed, since Anders has no reason to know who he is. He was lucky, really. You only used a stick on him, instead of making him explode or setting him on fire.” It wasn’t a question, but was, at the same time. “How did you know not to do that?”

He grinned.

“I’d been practicing fighting with it, so simply did that, when he rushed into the room. It was too much, even doing that but how was I supposed to know? I didn’t even know that Duma Sett had ever had a husband. It makes sense, I suppose, but...”

Sondra started nodding, letting her pretty head bob for a bit, then giving him a rueful smile.

“Kaidan Sett is famous, of course. An entertainer. Song, dance and plays. He has a large traveling troupe. Clarisse was part of that, his biggest act. Eltha, you were in that, weren’t you?”

There was a smile and a nod.

“For six years. I... Kaidan is right. He didn’t really divorce Clarisse. They’d been arguing and he yelled at her to leave him alone, but that was all. I was there. His other wives were as well. Clarisse is his third wife, and she never loved being that far down the line that way. I was her apprentice so left with her. She was asked to guard Princess Sweyn in Istlan about two weeks after that, so, things weren’t really well settled when we got on the ship.”

She shrugged.

“Well, even if they get back together, I have to think that I won’t be going back on tour, personally.”

Anders nodded, though Sondra seemed concerned with the idea.

“You won’t? Why? Did they beat you or...”

Anders shrugged.

“She’s getting married? Her husband has that whole Prince and Heir thing, instead of owning a traveling show, so I can’t see that one being easy to maintain, either.”

The spy, who wasn’t stupid, but who clearly played at it, fairly often, went wide eyed.

“Oh! I’d forgotten about that. Prince Naveed seems like a nice man. Handsome and well spoken. Rich too, which isn’t too bad. I should get a rich husband.” She didn’t so much as glance at Anders, even if he half expected her to.

Which, after a moment, he realized wasn’t about the reason he thought at first. She wasn’t looking at him, or fake flirting, because she actually was hinting at him that way. As in, suggesting that they get married, or at least that she was available.

Eltha snapped her fingers.

“Ooohhh. That’s correct, Anders has been promised up to five wives, if he moves here. Though, I think he gets that if he moves to Barquea, as well? You liked it there well enough, Sondra? You’d be second wife in either place, behind a princess, but that’s not too bad. Or, I suppose you could go back to Istlan with him? In that case you’d have him to yourself.”

Anders nearly blushed, and started to stammer, since the memories of Farad wanted him to do that. Instead, he took a breath and dropped into a light trance.

“I don’t know that I’ll be moving to another land. Technically there’s no reason not to, except that I have a school to run, and have some plans for that.”

Eltha made a face then and let her head play side to side.

“You know, if you don’t mind some travel, I bet you’d be allowed to set up schools in all three lands? Really, if you present it correctly, it would be seen as a gift in at least two of them. Hard, getting from place to place for a time. Not too bad though, if you can get them placed at various ports? Then use magic to speed the trips? I know that I appreciated the way that was done on our journey, myself.”

Sondra clapped her hands.

“What a good idea. If you don’t want to simply move here, that is. Nothing against Istlan or Barquea, but Modroc has a wonderful array of cities and a social scene that neither of those places seems to have at all. Even if you just want to live here, you could probably find a sponsor, or patron. Or, well, you’re rather wealthy already. You could just buy some land and put up your own home. Do you want children?”

He hadn’t really thought about that before, to be honest.

“I suppose? I haven’t really... I mean, I’m thirteen. Or... What day is it?”

Eltha had to go to her wooden calendar, which was kept in her large leather travel bag. The small thing had a set of pegs in it, one hole for each day of the year. It was arcane looking, but seemed to work, well enough.

“The first day of Summer is in three days.”

He nodded then.

“So, fourteen, in three days. I’ve never thought about having a family, or, to be honest, a wife, much less five of them. That sounds... Daunting, to tell the truth.”

Sondra winked at him.

“You’re just a bit bed shy. We can fix that for you, when you’re ready? Even if you don’t want to marry me. Not that you shouldn’t want that. I’m wonderful, after all.” That came along with a chuckle, but Eltha simply sighed and looked away. Not speaking until the topic changed, a few moments later.

Chapter eighteen

Kaidan Sett, as it turned out, managed to be humorous, charming and not nearly as threatening as his initial rush had made him seem to Anders. He had a chance to work that out over the next few days, as the man traveled with them to Billeth, since, as he put it, that was only proper. Given that his wife was with them and had a mandate from the Sulat that required her to report in, now that Princess Sweyn was back in the land.

For all that the cities in Modroc were grand and impressive to look upon, as well as extremely large, compared to anything that Anders had even heard of in either of his lives, the roads were still in need of repair in places. They weren’t horrible, over all, often being made of stone or even of the same type of compacted soil that Erold and Eltha were working in as they moved along. That previous work was old though, and large ruts had been driven into the path.

Some of those were over two feet deep in places, making tracks that, at times, barely allowed the wagons to be able to pass, even though the road was dry and flat. Where they traveled, things were better for their having passed. Duma Sett hadn’t taken a turn doing any of the work, as of yet, probably hiding that she could from Kaidan, for some reason.

Even if it was fairly clear that the man had, by some means that was part tradition and partially raw charisma, won her over by the end of the third day. At least they were holding each other frequently and speaking softly, instead of yelling or arguing by the time they got into the next large city. That one was no larger really, than the first place had been, though, instead of spires that scraped the sky, and their inn placing them many hundreds of feet over everyone else for the night, the building they ended up in was a vast dome.

One that had a rather pretty blue and gold coloration, on the outside. It was similar to some of the structures in Barquea, though larger by far, than anything like it that Anders had witnessed there. It was, almost, as if the Modroc were trying to show their importance by erecting grand monuments to themselves. They certainly weren’t making best use of all the interior space they had. Not in the one building, at least.

This particular place was mainly a theater inside, with the back half of it devoted to rooms for sleeping and the entertainers’ comforts. He thought that was the case, at any rate. It had staff, but he, as well as Prince Erold, were given only the smallest of consideration there, as if they couldn’t possibly be important at all. Thankfully Sweyn wanted her husband with her. Even the other Modroc men were treated in a very reduced fashion. As if, even if they traveled with Princess Sweyn, their part in things was humble and likely as servants to other, more important, people.

The men and women there, who marked themselves by wearing similar, rather flowing, bright red outfits, and gaudy face paints in exotic swirled designs, did manage to act as if Sweyn was important, at least. In fact, they rather fawned over her, presenting her with treats, presents and offers to massage her feet and perform other delicate tasks that seemed too intimate for the public to be hearing about.

His room, the one given to him, was private, but small. Even compared to the one that Anders had back in Istlan. It was simple as well. The building didn’t have pipes inside, or at least not for the likes of him to use, it turned out. That was fine, being he was traveling. The other spaces were larger, for some reason. The one that Sweyn and Erold shared was actually nice, having a good and sturdy bed, large mirrors hung as decorations and pillows and strange furnishings all over the place. The tan stone of the floor was smooth and the walls were painted in geometric patterns that looked festive.

He didn’t bother complaining. They were there for the night and truly, he didn’t need more than a bed, for himself. Even that wasn’t particularly necessary. The small pallet he was given was hard and rough, being filled, it turned out, with straw. He did remake that, into a more suitable, magical design. The fibers of the plants that had been inside the rough textured cloth became soft fluff, sturdy single strands that were like silk to the touch, but made small, interwoven, springs. Contained in a casing that was now smooth, like satin, and shining, in several bright colors. The blankets and frame were reworked as well. Just because he was bored, since there didn’t seem to a be a lot on offer to see or do in that particular location.

They ate early and the food, while edible, was actually scorned by several of the men traveling with them. Indeed, for the first time, several of them groused and complained about the treatment.

“I’m a craftsmaster! They actually put me in a low servant’s room. They have other spaces, as well. Then they feed us on day old bread and half molding fruit spread? This is a direct insult to the Sulat!”

The man, an older fellow, had eaten Anders cooking, more than once, and not said more than to give thanks for it. True, that was, in general, better than the leavings they’d been given, but it was strange for anyone to mention it.

Another of the men, sighed.

“More, it’s that these people are so stuck on their own arts that they can’t see anyone else as being important at all. We should complain to the management here. Not that it will do anything. They see their own world, that of entertainment and fame. Nothing else. To them we are servants or people even more useless than that, so they go out of their way to show it. We should have stayed in a hostel, instead of here. I blame Sett for that.” There was a soft growl, at the name.

He didn’t seem to mean Duma Sett, either.

Anders smiled, and shrugged.

“You think he’s trying to impress his wife?”

Conrath snorted, the older man, his gray beard well-trimmed and outfit presented in a clean and tidy fashion, since traveling or not, Anders had seen to that himself, every day or two, nodded.

“Most like. Not that I blame him. Clarisse Sett made his fortune, talented as he is. Losing her, even for a year, had to have hurt him that way. So he comes here, to a public entertainment house. To remind her of the joys her own celebrity had brought them, in times past.”

That was the general agreement. Anders simply shrugged.

“Oh? Well, they don’t seem to have a show going on right now. I was thinking we’d have Master Followland Hearth and his troupe in for the night? To use the stage here. I need to practice anyway. It probably won’t be as grand as what they normally do, but I have some new music I wish to try out, that I’ve been working on as we traveled.”

When he hadn’t been searching the world for threats or drilling with Eltha and Erold on combat skills from horseback. That or communicating with other people. It probably annoyed many of them, but the students who were far off still had him speaking in their ears, giving instruction and encouragement for their own practices, regularly. Not every day, since that would simply be too much to bear, for anyone.

Enough that he didn’t doubt several of them would be pleased when the silence came after his words.

Most of that, he knew, was due to the boredom of traveling. So, he’d dreamed and planned entertainments, given that seemed to be what he was allowed, for the moment. Even that wasn’t truly open for public consumption.

The men cheered a bit, on hearing that they were to be allowed to do something that evening, other than sitting in their tiny, rather plain cells. Given that the large stage, which was a grand thing of stone, with cloth curtains of a fine red cloth that could be moved using a clever system of wheels and ropes, was empty, Anders didn’t ask permission to use it at all.

That was, no doubt, high handed of him. None of the men spoke of it being an insult to their hosts, however. That didn’t mean it wasn’t, but the lack of good treatment was starting to feel a little pointed. Having him sleep in a barn, when all one had empty was a barn, simply made sense. Only a fool would remark on it at all, other than to give heartfelt thanks.

Having him sleep in a tiny room with a straw filled pallet, when they had several larger, empty spaces, not a hundred feet away, seemed to be saying something. The others from Modroc were taking it that way, as well. Making it more or less an actual thing to be aware of.

So, after their humble, rather moldy, meal, Followland and his four friends walked out from behind the curtains. They did this to some fanfare, with lights coming at them, to place the focus of their show on them. Anders had to move into a trance, dropping his awareness of most of the world, for a time. He heard some rustling and soft rubbing sounds from the people in the audience, but wasn’t able to think anything of it, in his effort to make a whole team of musicians play for them.

He truly was focusing on the music, which was loud enough to fill the entire space. Esmerelda, Followland’s pretty, but jealous, wife, danced and played the drums for the songs. Followland sang, as did one of the other men, the tunes fast and rhythmic, having well thought out and decent rhymes, which hadn’t been easy for Anders to come up with, being in Modroc.

The language fit the songs though, in a way that Istland or Yansian simply wouldn’t have. Between the songs, the performers spoke to the men in the audience, and with each other, playing and going on about what they’d been getting up to, in a rather interesting fashion. It wasn’t until Sondra came up on the stage, since he’d been describing her, or rather Esmerelda had been, that he realized more people had joined them. He didn’t turn to look, adapting instead.

Esmerelda, crossing her arms, called out.

“There! That’s the one... Always poking around when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I know what you want, missy!” The voice, which had started smooth and friendly, was overdone and shrewish, in a way that spoke of humor. At least to Anders.

Sondra nodded.

“Well, it’s hard to find a good man, so I was thinking that I’d take this one?”

The blonde seeming of a woman stomped away, her feet making loud clomping noises on the stone of the stage.

Esmerelda snorted and shook her head.

“I think not! I know, I have a song for women like you...”

That, played by everyone perfectly, was a dressed up take on a popular tune from Istlan. The Farmer’s Goat. It highly implied that Sondra wasn’t a woman at all, but might, possibly, be livestock. That or was pretending to be at least, to trick them all.

It was done on the fly, and had to be done carefully, but the audience, the whole of the room, gasped when the song ended and Sondra, the pretty woman who had come up on stage, was gone, leaving a white and brown goat, in her dress, in her place.

The woman had, rather cleverly, walked off stage, with only a little bit of magical pushing by Anders. Then, since goats were goats, it ran off into the audience, bumping people and trying to get away, as the next song started. A musical piece with a driving beat, on the gurdy and lute, as two of the other performers, Greg and Lewit, played pipes that sounded ethereal and strange.

There were other gags, and more interactions with the audience, which meant Anders having to look at them, to make that happen. He didn’t let the shock of a filled room cause him to drop things, thankfully. Instead, he added some fancier lighting to the whole thing, in different colors, and had Followland waving his hands to make flowers rise from the arms of the various seats, at the end. The redolent perfume that came from the blossoms, and faint golden glow that came from his fingers was impressive. When people started to touch the stems and flowers, the room erupted in excitement.

That much contact nearly drove Anders into unconsciousness, since it was being done over too large an area, too suddenly, for him to take. He held on, had the golden-haired man on the stage call out, as the flowers vanished into black smoke. That smelled of a wood fire, but only gently.

“Thank you all, for watching our humble display here tonight! Sondra, if you’d join us for the bow?” The woman had hidden herself behind the curtain, watching from the wings, but did join the man on the stage, standing next to his make-believe wife and fellow troop mates.

Then Followland, bowing in the Istlan fashion, even if he was supposed to be from Yanse, spoke again.

“Thanks to you all again. I am Followland Hearth, this is Esmerelda Hearth, Greg Holstead, Lewit George and Franz Mestis. And we, are of course...” The man paused, and vanished. Leaving only Sondra on the stage. Then the voice of Followland spoke, as if in the ear of every single person there. At least the ones in the first five rows of seats. It was an effect that would, hopefully, carry past that, but Anders wasn’t certain of that at all. “Not real.”

Then the lights, all of them, in the whole place, went out, and Anders moved out to the stage, gasping and using his wizard’s skill, to take Sondra by the hand and pull her away. When the lights came back, they were hidden, a bit clumsily, behind the red curtain.

The audience was silent, with only some gasps, as if they didn’t know what the trick to the whole thing was. Some of them did, at least. Then there was standing, and a racket that seemed almost frightening, when it came. It didn’t stop, for several minutes, not until Duma Sett took the stage, calling out, her voice amplified to hit even the back of the room, without speaking.

“More! Again!” This came from several places, followed by other calls. “We love you, Clarisse!”

“Ah! I love all of you, as well! This wasn’t my work tonight. I would like to introduce to you all Prince Anders Brolly! Man of the North! Anders?”

She gestured to him, and for a moment, he wondered if he should hide, or at least change his clothing. Not that he had time to do that. He was in plain brown, and while the cut was nice enough, it was hardly the shining glory that Clarisse was wearing.

Then he shrugged. After all, being too plain made a statement of its own that bright colors and expensive raiment wouldn’t.

So he moved out, and bowed, using first courtly, with his left hand out front of himself, arm bent slightly, fingers spread just enough. His front knee bent. Instead of mocking his simple clothing choice, the room roared at him again, as if it hadn’t been a simple practice session, to entertain his friends.

Then, there were several thousand people in the room with them, and most of those weren’t people he knew at all.

Clarisse took his hand, bowed with him, and then gently, led him off the stage, to the same side that held Sondra. Both women gave him a quick hug then.

“Well! The players setting up will have to work to match that! Your timing was good though, and it seems humble, taking the first spot, to get the audience ready for the more seasoned performers. I didn’t know you had anything planned? We should have had criers out. Not that this isn’t a nicely filled house. People heard the music, from outside and stopped in.”

He half expected a scolding, which, Farad understood as did Anders, was probably justified. He hadn’t meant to actually do more than a small thing for some of the others, and by taking liberties, not checking with the theater first, in his mild upset at his treatment, he’d made several mistakes.

Instead of being sent back to his room, even politely, he was taken to the audience itself, and settled near the front, to the side, next to Duma Sett, her husband, Prince Erold and Princess Sweyn. The other performers weren’t ready just yet, which appeared to be normal. People got up, to purchase fried nuts and wooden cups of ale. He knew that, since a man carrying a box came by and offered such to them. He didn’t have any coin on him and the ale didn’t smell very good, but the man handed him a piece of parchment, folded to carry the warmed, salted, nuts.

He was dressed in the loose red wrapped garments of the workers there, with red and tan swirled face paint. The pattern wasn’t that bright, but had been rather delicately done, instead. You could still tell the man was attractive. Probably an entertainer himself, on other nights.

“That was amazing, Dumo! I was impressed simply from the music and antics of Followland Hearth and his friends... Then to find they were illusion like that... I won’t be forgetting this any time soon. Are you staying on here for a while? We weren’t told about that...”

Kaidan Sett cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid this was one night only. A special showing for the lucky few who happened by. Prince Anders was invited from his homeland, in far off Istlan, by the Sulat himself. We must travel to meet him, directly, as you might imagine.”

The man with the box nodded, and seemed slightly sad. It was too large of a thing. Too dramatic to be real. Anders watched him, a fixed smile on his lips. Ready to fight, if the man pulled a knife or started to attack in a more magical fashion. He even checked the roasted nuts. Those were, it turned out...

Fine. So was the man. He was over acting though, since that was, it seemed, his habit in life.

“Oh? That’s too bad! Still, you should come back if you get a chance? You should speak to our manager here. She’ll want to make arrangements.”

Anders ducked his head, not speaking, since it clearly wasn’t his place to do that sort of thing there. Kaidan, rather than one of the others, did that for him.

“We will see, of course? Any engagements will, as you might imagine, be limited. Perhaps a smaller showing, later, for selected clientele?”

He nodded at the words, even as several of the others, Sondra, Eltha and Duma Sett, all frowned.

“That would allow me to do a more engaging show. This one was... Fine, I guess. I need to practice the more immersive ones as well.” He glanced at Clarisse, who smiled at him then.

“True. We also need to keep things smaller than this, so that we aren’t beheaded for allowing a dignitary from afar to be used as a simple entertainer. We probably should have stopped you, or barred the doors to the room, when people started to arrive. It was too good not to share.”

Princess Sweyn, her front neatly swollen with child, and face slightly round compared to normal, grinned at the words.

“Father won’t have a problem with this, I don’t think. I agree though, we need to not do this too often. Smaller things, for that practice, only. We don’t want it to seem as if we invited you only for your magic, Anders.” She grinned at the man with the nuts, who handed some to her, as well as a wooden cup of ale. She took both.

Anders checked her portions for poison or tampering as well. There was nothing there, but the ale was obviously sour and foul seeming. He could smell that, from where he sat.

Then the Princess went on. Speaking loudly, to the whole room.

“We’re attempting to entreat Prince Anders to come and live here, as you might imagine. We’ve offered wives, lands and riches. Barquea has as well. Istlan has gifted him with his own grand college to run, teaching magic. We need to best that, somehow.”

Several others in the audience looked over at the words, as if they were even possibly real. One man, who looked strong and polite, nodded.

“That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Even the Devica seemed to have liked the show!” The man pointed and there were, once pointed out, several green and red glowing beings near the ceiling, toward the back of the room.

Anders, not thinking about it, waved to them, which got the whole collection to come forward. One of them, when it closed a bit, was familiar to him.

“Jonpries! How are you? Come to see the show?”

The deep voice that replied was happy sounding, at least.

“Indeed, friend Anders. These others are Wopat and Hollan. They used to live in these lands, before they passed, some time back. Shaman of their type. This is Anders Brolly, Erold Caldas, Sweyn Caldas and Eltha Tennet. I’m not certain who the others are?” The large glowing red blob sounded diffident and polite, at least.

Anders waved.

“Clarisse Sett, the Illusionist and her husband, Kaidan Sett. This man is... I’m sorry, I haven’t been given your name yet? Is it all right for us to know that?”

The man with the swirled face and box of food, nodded.

“Lethe. Just the one name.” His voice shook, more than a bit, and everyone else in the room acted as if the Devica being there was frightening, even if they were, clearly, being very polite and just taking in the show.

The others ignored the obvious fear, or at least pretended not to be feeling something similar for themselves. Anders got that one. The first time he’d met one of that sort, a giant glowing energy being, it tried to fry him, with large gouts of fire.

It would be like meeting a human for the first time and having them trying to stab you with a knife. It wasn’t a great way to set the tone, but the truth was that not all people tried to murder you, even if some might. The same was obviously true of the energy beings.

They weren’t evil, as a group. They were, as strange as they looked, simply different types of people. There was a shifting, behind the curtains, with people peeking out, looking at the glowing beings. That or glaring at Anders, for having gotten in the way of their show for the night. That second one was even fair, so he stood up and gestured to the side.

“Not to be pushy, but we should probably get to our seats, so that the show can start? I fear I already threw the evening off...”

Jonpries laughed.

“I liked your music, little friend. Yes, we should move to the side and hide ourselves, so that no one fears our presence. This is not the worst land for such things, but it isn’t Ferlith, either.”

Anders thought he got that point, having been to that far off place, which was very much run in a way that was friendly to all people, regardless of what they looked like. Red, green, blue or even human looking, like he was.

Erold had been there as well, but he didn’t nod, probably not really understanding the ancient version of Modroc that Jonpries was using. Still, he smiled and waved to the energy people, as they moved away, Princess Sweyn doing the same thing, as the others smiled. Well, Kaidan didn’t, but he focused on the stage, so seemed engaged, instead of afraid.

The show then was fine, really. It was a play, and there was music involved, in what he had to figure was the traditional Modroc fashion for such things. It was a bit atonal and high pitched in places, which Anders didn’t love, if he was going to be honest about it. Some of the parts were nice and complicated sounding, but it wasn’t going to be his new favorite thing, he decided. Even if he used some of it in his own work, eventually.

The whole show was committed to memory, and he applauded at the end, but no one stood, to show special appreciation. When they retired, or tried to, Anders was rushed by at least twenty individuals. That caught him off guard, though he understood the basic idea. At least he thought he did. The first woman who got to him, who seemed to be about the same age that Eltha was, squealed as she approached.

“I want to have your babies!” Then, apparently meaning it, she started to try and take his clothing off, so they could get started on the process. Standing in the theater, in front of hundreds of people.

She thankfully, was pulled back. By another woman, who wanted to take her place in his bed, as it turned out. Anders was hugged, kissed, and was fondled between the legs enough that he both started to respond and nearly passed out from the attention, out of embarrassment.

“Ah...”

It was Sweyn who rescued him. Very cleverly, in fact. Her right hand went up, as if waving.

“Friend Jonpries! Wopat! Hollan! This way!” She didn’t even ask them to do anything, just called to them. The two green and one red being, the last being larger by nearly double, in raw size, moved in, which got the crowd to pull back, almost instantly.

It spoke of dark treatment for their kind, but also was really helpful, in the moment.

Anders waved as well.

“Come with us? I’m just heading back to my room. In the other portion of the building here. We should talk, if you all have the time?”

One of them, who Anders thought was Wopat, having a dark blotch on one side that Hollan didn’t, moved forward. His voice was higher in pitch than Jonpries, but he certainly sounded like an adult male.

“That would be welcome? We, Hollan and myself, were sent to watch you in your travels and report. By Shaman Smidt. He works for your father, Princess.”

Smiling, Anders nodded.

“Ah, spies... Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. Tisk, tisk, you two. Come this way? We can go over any messages that we need to send, if you’re headed that way anyway? If you want to bother with that, I mean. We need to set up that show for you Jonpries. Something a bit... Better than what I did here?”

He meant it, but everyone else was acting strangely, as they moved down the adjoining walkway, under the high dome they stood in. Sweyn chattered with the beings though, rather politely.

“You work with Warid Smidt? I know him. He lives at the palace, I... Have we met? I was always schooled to not bother the Devica, when I saw them, so forgive me for the lack in recalling that.” She tightened her face, seeming upset at the idea.

The other green person moved forward then.

The voice was very womanly, which was the first time Anders had noticed that sort of thing on one of the energy beings.

“I used to watch you, in your nursery and as a child, as one of your secret guard. In Istlan, as well, though I was careful that way, not wanting to frighten the people there. I left when I saw Followgrath being trapped in a fowl there, by the evil magician, Eta.”

Anders cleared his throat.

“That wasn’t really evil. Depak is a nice enough man, though not used to your kind of person yet. We let Followgrath go already, as a report on that situation? It was a... Well, he had been trying to murder me, when he was caught, so things were a little tense that way. We managed to discuss the matter and repair that. His friend, who he was riding in, had asked for help. Just, his assigned task was killing me, so... You get the idea?”

There was silence for a moment, then a soft feminine laugh.

“I’d missed much of that, I think! Everything there was in a different language, so it made it harder to understand. You speak Modroc well.”

That started a conversation that Anders found fairly interesting. It was, in the main, a take on the Istlan palace from the view of a person who didn’t exactly understand everything that was going on. Anders, for his part, simply wondered why Hollan hadn’t been taught to speak the language there. For that matter, why Jonpries didn’t have more modern languages already.

Their kind were capable of learning, after all. At least Anders had been told that.

Chapter nineteen

Anders wasn’t hunted for days after that night or anything like that. As soon as they moved down the road, which was busier now than it had been, closer to the border, their entire group was more or less invisible. People noticed them, and waved in passing, but no one came for them. Not until they were just outside the capital of Billeth. Then, because it was pretty much required in his life, they were set upon.

By masked attackers.

The twenty or so men and women did not fare well, of course.

Anders shifted in space efficiently, flowing from one move to the next, pushing people back, making the red and gold masks explode and destroying all their knives and scimitars with a single spell. They tried to run away. That didn’t work either. Not because of anything Anders did. No, Prince Erold worked with Princess Sweyn and Eltha to take the remaining people from their feet, hanging them upside down, so all the blood rushed to their heads.

This took place on a very busy road, and no one came to help them, at first. Not until four men in blue, with head wraps that had large polished stones in the front and white feathers sticking out, padded into place, some moments later. Others, the normal people, stood back, watching, some hundred feet away. There were many of them, in the area and they seemed worried, but also curious, mainly due to the people who were floating around.

One of them, the oldest, though none of them were ancient by any means, growled at them.

“What is happening here?” He crossed his arms, a naked blade in his right hand, as if to strike them down if he didn’t enjoy the answer provided.

Anders just nodded, and let Kaidan Sett speak.

“There was an attack, on Princess Sweyn and her friends! Assassins. Dumo Brolly here and these others used magic to subdue them. All the deaths were Dumo Brolly, I think?” The man went wide eyed, as if that was the wrong thing to say.

Anders simply agreed.

“That’s correct. Self-defense. We were set upon by, I think, twenty killers? Blades of the Goddess, I imagine? I... Don’t recognize any of the faces...” He frowned then, looking at the dead, then at one woman who was hanging upside down. “Wait... Can we set this one upright?” He pointed, rudely, at a woman who looked slightly familiar to him. After a fashion. He expected that to fade when she was flipped over, but after thirty seconds, when Eltha made that happen, he got who she was, and rolled his eyes.

“Liasa? I did apologize for making fun of you, didn’t I? This seems a bit over the top, just for making a seeming of a man you liked. Also... Is he here?”

The woman, instead of acting angry or like a possessed zealot, made a soft noise, deep in her throat. It seemed mildly amused, rather than upset by the fact that several of her friends were dead. Five of them lacking heads, which was why he’d asked about her friend.

Her voice was calm. Nearly friendly.

“Of course not, Prince Anders. He’s in Barquea, where he lives. I was nearly undone by that, but thankfully you didn’t see through my disguise. The Goddess provides.” She held up a small silver bracelet, and then slipped it off, her hands unbound.

Allowing her face to melt, transforming her completely, into a different woman. One also named Liasa. Ander frowned.

“Well, that’s not what I expected. How many... Is it just you?”

There was a head shake, then a soft smile.

“No, Anders. Did you think you could come from a different land and take over Barquea? That no one would try to stop you? There are hundreds of us, turned against you. These others just wanted that one girl killed, for some reason. Eltha? They didn’t really say why. They gave us charms though, made by their evil spirits, I think, to help us vanish from your thoughts and hide from you. You... I’d mock you for missing that, but you’re actually very good with magic, so that would be an obvious lie.” She went silent then, and shrugged, looking at the others who were there. “Forgive me, Princess Sweyn. You’re standing too close. You... won’t survive this.”

It took Anders a second, to understand what was taking place. Each previously masked person and three of the bodies of the dead, started to glow. An energetic white coloration, that hummed in the air.

Anders screamed. It wasn’t a good manly bass at all, but it got the job done.

“Run!” He didn’t know what was going to happen, but it was kind of clear that something was going to. He took off, calling out as he did it.

“Selva, Eranth, Tithin, Clee, fla ere ot ere, fen!” Anders waved in the general direction of the people he’d named, and pointed at a far-off spot, that looked to be about a quarter of a mile away. He sought the correct zone with his mind and held it as well as he could in the moment. Then he fell to the ground, not seeing what happened, the whole of the world going black.

He woke up with two men, one of them not a person he knew at all, just a passer-by, carrying him at a quick walk, trying to get away from whatever was happening. It hadn’t yet.

Getting his feet on the ground, he tried to run. Not well, but it allowed the group to speed up, one of the Modroc men, Conrath, holding his left arm still.

“I don’t know what’s happening. They’re all just standing back there, not moving, or trying to escape...”

They were looking away, when the world went white. It was intense, and painful to see, even with it being at their backs. People screamed in pain, as their flesh seared. Anders and the others with him were far enough away that they could keep going, but from the pain, he was burned all the way down his back. More than that, he was on fire. He couldn’t reach it, directly. They were all smoking, though still on their feet.

“Clotha nota ro, fen.” He pointed, at everyone around him, the energy leaving his body making him ache as he stretched out mentally, trying to put out the fire on any cloth he could, even in the distance.

Meaning, for the second time in some few moments, he passed out again. Pressed too near death already that day to do much of anything without a few more moments to recover.

As he opened his eyes, which were untouched, he found himself naked, lying face down, with a man behind him. That nearly had him jumping up, ready to fight, but the fellow wasn’t touching him, and from the muttering, it was Prince Erold, who had no strange desire for his flesh.

“I can heal the burns. Some of the... There’s coal on your back, in places. I don’t know what to do about that.” He gasped a bit, but kept going. The pain was already gone, for the most part, at least. Ten minutes later, Anders finally used his own wizardry skills to look at his own back. Then he saw the problem. There were seven patches of differing sizes, on his back and lower legs. The flesh was gone in those spots, healed over, but with thick scars under the black areas.

The rest was fairly well healed, which was nice.

“Good work. I can handle the scarring there. Later. I need... At least trousers or something to wrap over my...” He didn’t go on in that vein, a tattered bit of shirt being tossed at him by the prince.

“There are others to help, if you’re going to live?”

“Go. I’ll... See what I can do.”

It was a lot of little things, mainly healing pain and doing enough to keep bodies alive. For the moment. People stared at him strangely, as he moved from person to person, doing what he could. Erold wasn’t the only other person doing that, either. Sweyn, Eltha and Clarisse were as well. Others, regular men and women who had come after the attack, whatever it had been, the burning, brought water and tried to do what they could to make everyone comfortable. Eventually, what felt like several hours later, a train of horses and wagons came. They had fancy barding and symbols on them, but Anders didn’t recognize any of it. Sweyn did, and called out.

“Help, from the palace.” She pointed, helpfully. It took him a while to understand that she hadn’t done that because she was stupid or scared, either. It was so that he, or possibly Erold, wouldn’t start fighting, fearing further attack.

Not that the Prince had been targeted for anything. Thinking about that got him to sigh. Liasa had even used her own name, and spoken with her own voice, when they’d met before. He couldn’t even recall if he’d noticed that part as being familiar to him. He’d touched her mind and not linked her to Barquea, at all. He’d looked for her heart’s desire and, apparently, had found it.

If she could be trusted, then a lot of people from that land hated him. At least, they wanted him out of the way. Out of the line of possible succession. Even though he kept telling people that he wasn’t trying to be the Sula there. That, as he kept telling everyone, Naveed was the better choice for that. Everyone really was, since he simply lacked a good understanding of that land.

For instance, it had never occurred to him that anyone would be trying to kill him to get him out of their way like had been tried.

Sighing, he sat down, since everyone he might aid had been helped already. Then, thinking intensely, feeling too tired to go on, he created a message. One sent to ten different people, all at once.

“Attack by assassins in Billeth, Capital of Modroc. Led by Princess Liasa of Barquea. She claimed that it was meant to kill me and Eltha Tennet. Large magical attack, hundreds burned. Unknown number of dead. Several in our party injured. Will update, when possible.”

Two of the people that had been sent to were right there, with him, which had Sweyn and Erold walking over to him. Since the Princess did that, a group of twenty or so armed men moved at the same time, seeming ready to end his days, if he moved wrong. He was too stiff, from the new scarring, for that.

Before they got to him, Anders felt at least three, possibly four, minds reaching out to touch him. None of them recoiled from what they found, but two of them examined the wounds and scarring, fairly intensely.

He simply held to the idea that he could fix those, and would be doing that, as soon as he could regain his bearing and composure. That meant dropping into a trance, as everyone closed with him.

“That... I heard her words, but... I can’t believe Barquea would attack you! Here, as well, in the heart of Modroc. Over seventy people died already. Nearly three hundred are wounded enough that they can’t work, even with the healing provided. What... What are our plans now?”

Sweyn seemed darker than he’d ever seen her before, as Anders swallowed.

“I don’t know? This might not be everyone from Barquea. They were working with a group from here, so we can probably call that even enough to prevent a war, at least. You’re all well? I couldn’t get everyone away. Did that work? I passed out, trying it.”

Erold laughed. Darkly, and as if he knew a war was coming from the actions of that day. It was, of course. Too many had died for others not to follow. The trick would be in choosing who died and how many would be enough to make it worthwhile.

The Prince closed his eyes, as if in pain, even if there were no obvious wounds.

“Oh, it worked. I don’t know what really happened, but... It worked. We were standing there one moment, there was a sense of the world spinning and suddenly we were standing well away from the area the threat was in. Four of us at least. Kaidan Sett was burned. He ran early though, so his wounds weren’t too bad. Conrath told us that you put out all the clothing, on everyone in the area who was on fire. All at once. Then you went dark?”

Anders shook his head.

“That was the second time. I’ll need some time to heal and regain myself, after all of this. Then we’ll need to find out who did this and if we’re going to be allowed to stop them from doing it again. I need to... Well, I sent that message to several people. King Matheus, Sula Darian and Prince Naveed. Prince Robarts and Prince Alpert... Depak and Tolan. Also Martya and Hoatha.”

He frowned on the last two names, because he had to figure, given the power of the amulets that had been used, and their nature, that one of those two had to be behind it. Not that he had evidence of that, or proof. All he could hope for though was that whoever had done it hadn’t selected him as their target, personally.

That... Probably wasn’t going to end up being true. Anders had gone to find Ganges, and stop his plans, then let himself be led into thinking that both of the people behind the troubles had, if not given up, decided to hold their hands for a while. Which, if they didn’t care about Farad Ibn Istel after fifteen hundred years, and there was no reason for them to really do so, they didn’t have a reason to see to at all.

Hoatha hadn’t even said goodbye, when he’d left.

Which could mean anything, of course. From the man secretly hating him, to simply not wanting to bother with things like that after a life so long that Anders couldn’t truly understand the concept of what it would mean to the mind of his old student and friend. The mind of a boy was very different than an old man, after all. The difference between Farad and Ganges was likely to be even more impactful, that way.

He was too tired, exhausted of magic, to think clearly, of course. He tried to work out what to do next, but one of the guards who had come, dressed in light purple, but with shining curved swords and fancy head dresses, much like what the local guards wore, strode forward, and nearly bellowed at them. It was a bit rude seeming, even if the man seemed a bit uncertain about what to do, himself. Nerves could cause people to act untoward, so Anders tried not to hold the noise against the man.

“Into the carriages and wagons! Back to the palace, the Sulat has ordered this. Hurry, Princess. Your consort and these others as well, if they can travel. Protect the Princess!”

Those words had Sweyn physically picked up, by the arms, and dragged to a nearby carriage, by two sturdy looking men. Several more did that with Erold and Clarisse Sett. Eltha moved on her own, and when several men came at him, Anders stopped them, with a smile. One that probably looked like death, since the large fellows, all of them at least two heads taller than he was, froze in place.

“I ride with the wounded. I can heal them, if I go slow. I don’t have a lot left, but... I can do something. The worst ones first.”

Finally, after a few moments, one of the men waved, rather forcefully.

“You four, ride with him. Do as he says. Hurry though, boy and use your strange magics well. Go!”

They moved, Anders ignoring how rude the man in purple had been to him. He’d gotten his way, after all, and he was fairly certain that the man didn’t have a clue who he was. Possibly not even if he was with the group who needed the palace at all, really. His blue eyes and pale skin might give that away though, being strange there.

The men who were supposed to stay with him tried to prop him up, physically, which wasn’t needed.

So he nodded as he shook them off. Gently. It was clear they weren’t trying to harm him after all, just get him to the wagon.

“Not yet. I pushed myself earlier, so... I might die, if I do too much now. I have a report out to several people, using magic. I’ll recite a better one to you, as I work, in case I fail?” He meant die, but they were heading to a wagon filled with half a dozen moaning and singed people. One of them was Kaidan Sett, who was, as had been said, blackened along the sleeve of his loose, colorful, clothing. Having been on fire, if lightly, compared to many of the others. His wounds, where they showed, were merely red though and not even blistered.

“Sett. Good. Aid me as I work?”

Then, slowly, as they moved over rough stones, jolting them as they traveled, Anders did his best to repair each man there fully. The work took most of an hour, as he gasped in effort and pain, even while not doing that much at all. Then, he awkwardly, stiffly, climbed out of the moving wagon and moved to another one. Hobbling after it at his best speed, trying to catch up. That had the men with him, his guards, or possibly jailors, moving their horses to bracket that one, and even if he’d said not to before, two of them got down and physically moved him to the next set of wounded.

Then the next. He managed to move a little faster, but was grunting by the end, holding nearly fifty people under a spell to control their pain. That had to be let go of, as soon as possible. Most of them were fixed, thankfully. The last person he did, even after himself, was Kaidan Sett.

Not out of hatred. The man had actually insisted on going last, not being that injured.

The spell he muttered let go of all the other spells he held, allowing some bit of balance to restore itself to his system. He sighed then, after catching his breath, about a minute later.

They, all of the wagons, were pulled around a circular smooth stone drive, that vanished underneath the ground at a mild incline. The horses actually walked in, which spoke of special training on their part. Normally it was hard to get such animals to do things like that. Their own horses, including Juniper, followed along, even if their nerves had to have been stressed that day.

The stone cavern was lit with reflected light from above ground, but along the way, in places, were torches, or rather very large lamps, with metal reflectors, to light their way, since whatever light the sun provided wasn’t truly enough, it seemed.

When they stopped, the first guard, the loud and slightly pompous seeming fellow, called out again. So far that had seemed to be his main occupation there. Yelling, rather boldly. Anders had to admit, the man did a good job of it. The whole thing was almost theater, really.

“Unload from the wagons, if you are able! We will go into the palace from this entrance. Carriages away as soon as your passengers are out!”

Anders climbed out himself, still mainly naked, since he’d either had a choice between dressing himself or healing the others there. Anders was, embarrassingly, aware that parts of his pale behind was showing, as he moved. No one there so much as blinked at the idea.

Several others were in a similar state, with their clothing being mainly gone, thanks to the flames that the intense white light had created. The searing pain and scent of burnt flesh. The screams...

Anders tried to let that line of thinking go, focusing on what was around him, instead. He was too tired and lacked the raw physical material, to make better clothing, at the moment. Probably the energy as well, unless he went very slowly and carefully. He supposed that a small skirt of some kind could have been arranged. He simply didn’t have that much energy left in him, at the moment. It was hard to even move. He, oddly enough, wasn’t tired.

Not in a way that meant sleep was a good idea. He felt more like he’d run and run, for most of several days, and now his arms and legs just didn’t want to move any longer. Being too heavy to force to do anything useful.

Thankfully, no one required that of him at all. He was taken, after a long walk and many well-constructed stairs, to a room, where he was, it seemed, to be stored with the other men. It was nice, but a barracks of sort, it seemed. Holding ten beds. The room wasn’t that large, but it was about the same size as the place that the men had been put when they were in Istlan, so that worked for him. Complaining that it wasn’t good enough, after them having been kept in a very similar and not as well decorated, of a space for over a year would be too foolish of a mistake for him to make.

Instead, he took a bed, and smiled when a rather plain young woman pounded on the door and came in, barking at them rather firmly.

“We have food and clothing for you. Be grateful. My suggestion was storing all of you with the dogs in the kennels.”

Several of the other men nodded and smiled, if gently.

Anders was sized up, his pale skin no doubt noticed, and the girl tossed him a set of oversized clothing, that was basically some kind of wrap. A thing strange to him, but common seeming there. It wasn’t really clothing, as much as a set of lengths of cloth, to be tied loosely around himself. The colors on his were sky blue and a deep orange. Not wonderful colors, when placed together. The others were putting theirs on well enough, but he looked at it, and started muttering.

The woman crossed her arms and sneered at him.

“What, it isn’t good enough for you? You think that the gifts of the Sulat are...”

She gasped when, very, very slowly, it started to change in both style, fit and color.

He still had his boots on, but those were going to have to change as well, to match the new outfit. Eventually, they would need to be altered, at least. He grinned as several of the other men there laughed at the girl.

“Ah... That is Prince Anders, of Istlan. The war mage and illusionist. Also, a magician, like the kind from Barquea? A Shaman, too. I don’t think he’s making a comment on what you brought, though?” The young man who spoke, Ken, looked at him, as Anders first cleaned himself with magic, then got dressed. Slowly. He ached, all over, after all.

“That’s true. I just don’t know how to get into those, I’m afraid. My lack, of course, not yours. The clothing looked very nice. Thank you.”

The woman, who wasn’t old at all, stepped in and touched his chest, or at least the shirt over it.

“This is illusion?”

He shook his head.

“No. I changed the other clothing into this, that’s all.” It honestly didn’t seem like a large thing to him any longer. Even though he recalled the first time he’d noticed Depak Sona having done that same kind of thing.

It had been a thing that was a sign of incredible power to him. Now, even being tired and unable to do much at all, he’d just done a thing that the woman had probably never seen a human being even claim to be able to, before. She blinked, stammered a bit and then gasped.

“I... Um...” Then she marched from the room.

“I hope I didn’t offend her?” Anders understood what was going on, or thought he did, so wasn’t shocked when everyone else just went on with their own dressing. None of them moved that quickly either, in their task of the moment.

As he finally altered his boots, making them black instead of brown, not bothering to change the style of them, since that seemed too hard, at the moment, he sat on the edge of his bed. That was, he thought, filled with feathers of some kind. The feel of it was strange, but not bad at all. There was art on the walls, and the space was both clean and scented of spices.

Something similar to pepper and pine, he thought. It worked, when put together, whatever it was.

The woman from before came back, sometime later, with two helpers and a cart, which had food of various types on it. One of the people was an older woman, with gray hair and a tight expression on her lips.

“We didn’t know that one of you was a Prince. We don’t have another room ready, yet. Please forgive us!”

Anders smiled up at her.

“Sorry, I should get up and bow, but... It’s been a day. Not a good one, either. This is fine. Thank you. I could use some food, if that’s all right with you?” He checked it, to make sure it hadn’t been poisoned, searching all of it, including the solid dried fruits and the exotic bean spread, that seemed to be mixed with honey.

There were trays, made of wood, on which a selection of things was placed, and then passed to him directly, by the older lady, even though the rest of the men were expected to get their own. None of them seemed to notice the difference in treatment. It was, he knew, probably how the world worked, most of the time. If you were considered rich, powerful or important, you were treated that way. If not, you took what you were given and had to pretend to be glad about it.

For the moment, Anders simply ate, and drank some of the juice that had been offered. There was wine as well, but no one there bothered the pitcher of it at all. Anders just didn’t drink such things, most days, taking only sips to be polite, on occasion. That was so his head would be clear, and he wouldn’t make too many mistakes, of course.

Not that he didn’t manage that anyway, far too often.

They were left in the room, just sitting, for hours. It was long enough that Anders started contacting people, getting a few messages back, from various sources. Depak Sona was first, his mental voice projecting focus, but not anger or anything that suggested emotions at all. Then, that was part of his own communications system, not the fault of the man. The words were spoken to the ear of a man or woman in the distance. It was always the same. A given line would always sound the same, no matter how you felt about it.

When Depak’s voice came back, Anders tensed, at first.

“Understood. Sula Darian had commanded a search of everyone here, to see if there is merit to what Princess Liasa said. She is missing, having left weeks ago, on a claimed journey for entertainment. Ten others are also missing. Is it possible to confirm who the dead are there?”

That repeated, but only five times. Anders knew the answer though, which was that it was possible, but not from the physical bodies. Those had burned in the white light, the glow from their necks having destroyed even the bones that had been inside of the men and women. Only ash was left. He could, he thought, recall the faces from his memories, well enough. What he lacked was a good way to record such things. Which, as it turned out, was less of an issue than he would have figured on it being.

He sank into a trance, without speaking, and captured the face of one of the people who had been hung upside down, moaning and complaining about it. Then he flipped that image over and used illusion to call the man, a decently youthful one, into being.

“I need to draw this. I’m not that good at such things.” He nearly whispered the words, but one of the men there grunted.

“I have that part then. It’s my job, after all. Making art. I have some paper and pens. Paints, too, if that’s preferable?”

Anders nearly said no, having seen some art from Modroc before. It wasn’t all bad though, and the one painting that he’d seen had been rather stylistic, instead of meant to show the person in it correctly. That had been part of a trick, so he simply nodded.

“We need to identify these people, if we can? It might not work, but...”

That got a nod, and several of the men offering aid in the project. In part it was a desire to help and prevent a war, most likely. The rest was just down to the fact that, while they hadn’t been told to not leave the lovely room, no one had suggested that they could walk freely, either. Given the stress of the day, Anders would have wanted them to stay put, while things were figured out, if it had been him in charge there.

So, even as food came again, Anders kept working, eating as he held the images of the attackers, one by one, so their faces could be recorded. The artwork done was meticulous and did give a good sense of what the men and women looked like, imparted to the smooth brown paper in delicate lines and with careful shading of the pen stroke. It took about half an hour for each face to be recorded, so, eventually, they had to put the lamps out and sleep, for the night.

In the morning, first thing, before his eyes even opened, he had a message from King Matheus.

“Prince Anders. This attack on your person from Barquea will not be taken lightly. We wait on your word, as to what you wish done about this matter.”

The words were in Master Tolan’s voice, but he understood what wasn’t being spoken of, as soon as he heard them.

Going to war over it was foolish, of course. It made far more sense, if it was an intractable issue, for him to simply get himself removed from the list of princes in that land. It didn’t leave him feeling happy, thinking that some of them, people he probably didn’t even know, had tried to murder him, but his feelings, or even his single death, wouldn’t be worth the death of thousands or more.

So, for the time being, that was going to be his plan that way. That and simply not going back to Barquea, of course. If they were using magic to hide their intentions toward him, anyone from that land could be an agent against him. Really, anyone from Modroc might be as well.

Istlan...

Was truly, much the same for him. The one saving grace there was that the royal family itself didn’t seem to actually want him dead. Modroc... Honestly, he had no clue as to where those particular people stood, in regards to him. It could honestly end up being that his best option was to stay there, if they’d have him. Away from the seat of power, doing some kind of useful work. Maybe doing some shows with illusion, if he could become well enough trained in that area to actually do the job, night after night.

That wasn’t the message he sent back, however.

“An investigation is underway. Waiting on findings, for the moment. There will not be a war.” He wanted to be firm on that point, but all he could do was send the words, dispassionately.

When he rose, bathed himself and altered his clothing for the day, shaving his head again, using magic, since the hair on the back had melted off anyway, they started the identification efforts again. By noon, or at least twelve horns, which he took to be about that time, Anders was passed a collection of rather well-done drawings. The slick brown paper made a decently thick stack of carefully done artwork. Easily well enough done to identify people, he had to think.

They were already dry so he put those together, wrote out everything that had happened, in several languages and then made copies of everything, using magic. He also bound them into small books, if with only paper as a cover. Then he stood up and sighed.

“Now... I think I need to meet with... Shaman Smidt? How do I do that?”

No one in the room knew, being strangers to the palace of the Sulat but when he poked his head out, to see if there was a helpful guard or maid who might lead the way, he found a hovering green Devica, instead. One named Kines, in fact, who spoke with a rather youthful and girlish voice.

They chatted for some time, with the floating energy finally drifting down the hallway, a bit.

“I can lead you to him? This way, new friend Anders.”

Chapter twenty

For some reason Anders had envisioned an angry man, when he thought of Shaman Smidt. Perhaps a fellow with a grand gray beard, lines around the eyes and mouth and a disapproving manner to him. Also, clearly, the man was supposed to be ensconced in a dark stone room, with arcane symbols on the walls, which smelled a bit of something strange. Anders hadn’t worked out precisely what that part should have been, but it was certainly there, inside his mind.

The reality of the situation was so very different that he didn’t understand what he was seeing, at first. There was a man, and he did have a beard, but nothing else in the scene was correct. At least to what he would have imagined. When the fellow turned, the young seeming man, who looked barely older than Anders, let his face light up, happily.

“Hello! May I help you find something? You are one of the people who came to visit, with the Princess?” The man spoke slowly, in modern Modroc, as if he feared Anders might not understand him. He wasn’t loud. Just as if he wanted to be very clear about what he was saying.

“Hello. I’m Anders. Anders Brolly. You’re Warid Smidt? The Shaman? Kines here brought me to you.”

For some reason those words had the man frowning and going wide eyed.

“Kines did? That... You’re a Shaman as well? I hadn’t heard that anyone coming would be devoted to such things. Amazing!”

Anders shook his head, just a bit.

“I’m involved in other types of magic. She was simply kind enough to show me around. I was hoping to ask after Hollan and Wopat? We have a friend in common, Jonpries, and they might be able to get a package to certain places for me, if I ask nicely enough. I promised them a show and some entertainments and haven’t really paid off as of yet, so I might need to do that first. Illusion, music and so forth? You can come as well, Kines? If I can find a space here, we should be able to do that in a few days. I think I have the time, so...” He shrugged, looking at the fairly small floating green cloud.

Her voice came back rather pleasantly.

“I’d heard that might be in the offing. From Hollan. She’s... Not here right now. Off watching after Princess Sweyn. Jonpries though... The red one? I could, possibly, find them? What is it you wish of them?”

Anders hefted the well bound copies of papers that he had.

“Drawings and a write up of the attack that took place yesterday. We need to get these to different locations. Barquea, Istlan and Yanse, if possible. I have one for here, as well but I can deliver that one myself, obviously. Really, I wouldn’t ask after it at all, except that assassination seems to have been the goal, and this information might be important to how things play out.”

Warid seemed concerned, but Kines chuckled a bit.

“Just moving some papers? I can do that. Who are they going to?”

He had specifics on that, but stopped, when he got to Depak Sona.

“I need to contact him first, so he knows that you’re a friend. We won’t let you go anyplace that might be too dangerous for you. Not if I can help it.” He meant the words, feeling a little protective of everyone around him, for some reason.

The Devica moved a bit closer to him, her voice going soft.

“That’s a good plan. I don’t speak the language of Barquea. I can find places and people, easily enough, but it’s hard to communicate at times. Some people can’t hear me at all, so there’s that, as well.”

Warid Smidt stood back, near the plants that seemed to make up the main portion of the room they were in. The thousands of flowers, moist soil and in the center, a small pond, with splashing that seemed to indicate it had fish in it. There was stone all over the place, but it was covered with green. The sky above was visible, through a great structure of glass, the light beaming straight down on them, with the sun overhead. Almost directly, in fact.

It took about ten minutes for his message to go out, the same thing being sent to each person who was getting a delivery, at least in theory. As soon as that was done, he spoke to Kines, but smiled over at Warid, since Anders was asking things of his personal friend.

“That should alert everyone. Some of the places have people who might be frightened to see you. Not the people having things delivered, but those lands. You should take a moment to speak to Farad, if you have a chance? He founded Modroc, after all.”

There was a gasp, from two locations. Kines seemed pleased and Warid looked scandalized. At least Anders figured that was the case, until he spoke.

“You know where The Founder is? How? No one has heard of him in... Hundreds of years!”

“That, is a long story. Right now, he’s working with me, at the school I’m supposed to be starting, up in Istlan. Obviously, I’m here, instead of doing my work, but that’s the short version. The long one is... A better story, really.”

The man didn’t press for that, since Kines moved over the packages, which all vanished. Then she did that herself, not even bothering to float out of the room to make that happen. It was different than what he’d noticed that type of being doing before. They always floated away, if at times with good speed.

Smidt shook his head.

“That was Amazing! The Founder taught you how to do that? To work with the Devica so easily? I would have been doing hours of entreating and begging for the same effect. Truly, Kines is always a bit... reticent to aid me at all. You didn’t even offer a sacrifice...”

Anders winced, since he’d learned of that kind of thing, from Farad.

“Ah... They don’t need anything, really. Not that we can provide. Just consider them friends and treat them as you would if it was a family member you wanted things from and they often seem to enjoy that more. Conversation, entertainments, even teaching them things, might work well for gifts to them?” He hunched a bit, since he was, in short, telling the man that he’d been doing his entire job wrong, the whole time he’d been doing it.

He did seem upset about it, too. What he didn’t do was lash out at Anders, or act angry.

“That... I can see it, but, it works? I was taught to do very different things. To fear the Devica, and entreat them as if they were minor gods... You seem to be suggesting something different. Won’t that anger them? They need devotion to continue, and to act in this world, don’t they?”

Making a face, he shook his head at Warid, just a bit.

“No? Really, we should probably just ask some of them about that? Hold a small party or get together? They might not come, but it could work.”

It was rather clear that the man didn’t believe him, but also that he wanted to be kind to the stranger. That was, Anders had to consider, about the best he could have hoped for. The young seeming man, cleared his throat, after a moment.

“Ah, my manners! Would you like some wine or perhaps food? I don’t have anything here, unless you’d like a banana? We have some ripe red ones, back here. They’re very good, actually. The seeds are soft and you can simply eat them. Here, let me get some of those? It sounds good, at the moment, now that I speak on the topic.”

Anders followed, interested in seeing what kind of tree such a thing grew on. That, it turned out, was a bush. Though a long, tall, thin one with giant green leaves that were nearly the size of his own chest.

The treat was passed over to him, and was indeed red on the outside, with a thick skin, that required a good bit of strength to rip open. Warid actually pulled a small blade and cut his, but he didn’t look sideways at how Anders had done it. The fruit itself was delicate, pale cream in color and had a slightly flowery odor. The flavor was incredible.

“This is wonderful. Thank you for thinking of it.”

The man grinned at him, his face pleasant, if a bit conspiratorial.

“These are my favorite. Now, you said that you’re from Istlan? My brother, when he lived, was up that way. He died. It was mysterious as to how it happened. Poison, but no one knows more than that. I nearly asked the Devica to go and see what went on, but the Sulat asked me not to risk such an action, lest it start a war.”

Anders, dreading the conversation to come, took a deep breath.

“Natan. Yes. He died while I was off at the front of the war we had with Yanse. I... You saw that I can pass messages from a distance? I had to meet with some generals and their people, so that I could do that with them, so had traveled away from the castle there. Before that I was acting as a room servant, for several people, including your brother.”

The man stood straighter, a bit of banana in his mouth. He spoke in his shock, without swallowing first.

“You knew Natan?”

“I did. He was a friend of mine. When I returned the King there, Matheus, put me in charge of the investigation into his death. I found that it was a man, a servant there, Agorn Stergis. His cousin Alice had been gotten with child by Natan, and he wasn’t allowed to marry her, due to his orders from the Sulat, which is a great insult there. So he poisoned him. Agorn was also a great friend of the man Alice was supposed to marry, so it was a dark thing in that way as well.”

Warid teared up then, his face going ashen.

“I understand. A man has needs and desires, but Natan wouldn’t have been allowed to do the right thing, when a child came, being on a diplomatic mission as he was, even if it was the part of right. The friends of the wronged parties would have no choice but to act. This man, Stergis... Did he travel with you here?”

That made no sense to Anders at all. He nearly said that, in shock, but managed to be softer than that, in his words.

“No. He was put to death for the murder. He knew that would happen when he acted and went to his death bravely enough. He wasn’t a kind man, but he didn’t hate Natan, truly. His death was offered to balance things. I hope that is enough?”

That had nothing to do with what had actually happened, but it seemed to be what Warid wanted to hear.

“Ah? That is for the best, perhaps. I am a man of soft intent, myself. My primary God being the way of peace... Not all of my family follows the same path. The passing of this man should appease them, I think. Your King Matheus, he ordered this death? You said that you were the investigator?”

He nodded, slightly.

“He’s my grandfather and knew that I’d see to the truth, no matter what it took to reach it. At least that was what he said. I took Agorn’s life for him. The man asked for it to be done, so that we could right the wrong, without war. He would have died, anyway. Istlan does not allow murder. Not without just cause.”

Again, he was lying. Hopefully not so much that Warid would find out about it.

“That... Yes. I shall send word of this to my family. Thank you, for your work. It was a dark thing, and death is to be avoided, but my way is not followed by all.” Then, in a way that seemed a little off, and thoughtful, the man ate another banana.

As he finished that, a blue energy being came into the room, floating through a wall. It hovered about five feet up and hung back, once it realized Anders was there. So he waved.

“Hello! I’m Anders Brolly. Pleased to meet you.”

That, the soft and friendly words, had the being moving forward. It had a nice tenor, but being blue, had probably never been a human at all. So far all of those types had been green, at least in his experience.

“I’m Goland of the Waters, Anders Brolly. I have a message to deliver, about the bargain we made, Shaman?”

Anders nodded.

“Which is my signal to take my leave? Understood. Goland... We have a small entertainment being presented in a few days. Two, I think? Some music and illusion? You’re invited to attend, if you’d like? If not, please feel free to come and find me, and we can talk or share stories, sometime?”

The being rotated, to face him. At least that was the feeling Anders had from the whole thing.

“Thank you, Anders. I will consider it.”

Then, with a wave to both of the people, Anders left and tried to work his way back to the room he was being stored in. The palace was a bit of a maze, so, naturally, he ended up down the wrong hallway. One that was highly decorated, but not special in any specific fashion. That led to a different hallway, and him getting ready to run back, not having seen anyone, when an older man in a simple blue wrapped bit of clothing came out of a room, holding a tray with an empty plate and cup on it.

The fellow had an aged face, with a tidy gray beard, and a full head of short hair that matched in color. He was a large man, being very tall, and slightly heavy, but only enough to show he enjoyed food, not more than that.

The man smiled at him, which seemed a bit strained.

“Are you looking for me?”

Anders shook his head.

“No, sir. I’m a bit turned around. I was visiting with Shaman Smidt, and now can’t find my room at all. One of the Devica, Kines, led me there and I’d thought I’d paid attention to the path from my room, but... Clearly not well enough.”

The man nodded.

“You’re Anders? Sweyn was telling me about you, earlier. Are you well? I’d planned to let you rest for some time, given the wounds that you’d taken and the heroic actions of magic you undertook. You look fine, however?”

He nodded, getting the idea of who he was speaking to.

“You’re Sweyn’s father, then? Sulat Mondeth?”

The man grinned then, laughing a bit.

“You know, people normally put the Sulat portion first, but yes, I’m Sweyn’s father, indeed. You’re well enough to visit now, however? Remarkable. I’d heard that you might be crippled for a long while. The guards cried, speaking of how you healed people, risking your own life to do so. That’s not easy to make happen.”

Anders was able to smile himself, even if the meeting was a bit odd.

“It will take some days for me to recover from the magic used, I fear. I can do some small things, such as caring for my clothing or small illusions. We, the men traveling with Sweyn and Erold, and myself, we managed some pictures of the assassins. From memory, but they should be fairly accurate. I was able to make illusions of them, which the pictures were taken from. Kines the Devica is taking copies to various people. King Matheus and his Heir, Robarts. Sula Darian and Prince Naveed. I have copies of them and the report of what I saw and heard for you as well, of course. In my room, since I hadn’t expected to run into you, in the hallway like this. Truly, I wasn’t certain I was allowed to leave my room. I rather snuck out, to see that work done.”

There was a sage look then, instead of anger at the rules having been broken.

“You may come and go as you please, of course. Anywhere in the land. Here, I should go and greet the others with you anyway, so I can pick those papers up now, if that works?”

Anders thought for a second and smiled.

“It does, really, if that isn’t a hardship? Oh, I’ve been promising the Devica a show soon. In two or three days? So I can recover a bit of my energy first. Is there a place where I can do such a thing?” He held his breath, since it had to be a strange thing to request.

The Sulat seemed taken aback, as well.

“For... Devica? You can use the large hall for that, if you wish, of course, but... Is that... Won’t such a thing anger them?”

Anders cleared his throat, fighting a grin.

“Only if I’m not very good? Given that thought, I should probably practice first. Not that I wouldn’t anyway, but...”

The old man slapped him on the shoulder, reaching down a bit to do that.

“Good thinking, then! Here, this way, I think. I need to drop this tray off. I could leave it to the servants, but I’ve been so busy that it seemed unfair to have someone standing in the hallway, to wait on me. Strange hours, of late, you understand.”

Anders did, actually.

“I do, truly.”

As they walked, some minutes later, having traveled in silence, the fellow, the ruler of the land they were in, spoke again.

“Now, you can use magic to speak at a distance? How does that work?”

“If I know a person well enough, I can pass my voice to their ears, even in the distance. I needed help with the papers being passed, since I can’t pass physical things that way.”

The man tilted his head.

“Useful. You can do this with anyone you’ve met?”

“There’s more to it than that, really, since I have to know them fairly well and then form a link to them, that can be used, but many people, yes.” He wasn’t certain where the conversation was going, exactly.

The Sulat took a deep breath.

“So, you can do this with me, now?”

He wrinkled his nose and then shook his head in response.

“From a chance meeting in a hallway? Probably not, to be honest. I’d have to be around you for some hours, for it to really work. I can do the Sula and King Matheus, both the Heirs from those lands. Princess Sweyn, and Prince Erold... But not every person I’ve run into over the years.”

The man didn’t seem upset to hear that, just considering.

“You can learn this though? So that, when you leave, you can pass messages from where you are to me, say? Or another here? You know Shaman Smidt?”

“That would work. If I meet with both of you again, a few times, at least. I tend to try not to contact the leaders directly, of course. I don’t want them to realize that I could use the same trick to cast other spells on them. Not that I would, but being able to means that they have to trust in my good will.”

The Sulat stopped then.

“That... you could kill them, at a distance, you think?”

Anders shrugged.

“In theory. I have spells that can harm and kill, and other magics that might work that way, but I don’t really have the ability to kill at a great distance. It could be possible to do, I guess, but the energy requirements to act in the distance are incredible. Making a sound, directly in an ear, doesn’t tax one that much. Making things move past a mile or so away would probably kill me. I nearly died yesterday, moving a few people less than a quarter mile from me, to give you a guide that way.”

Walking again, the man tapped his fingers on the tray. That was made of polished wood, the cup and plate on the top made of what seemed to be silver.

“You could make an image hit an eye then? Or is an image of greater power than a sound?”

Blinking, Anders did his own stopping then.

“It isn’t that simple, but... You know, it shouldn’t take any more power, really. A new and different way of doing it, to make a picture at a distance... I need to think about this. No one has ever done that before, that I know of. Or... well... I need to consider this one.” It was fascinating as an idea, really. One that tried to capture his mind, as they moved. He didn’t let that happen, since he was with the man in charge of the entire land there.

“Do that? It will be interesting to see. Also, even if a risk, we should open communications between the lands you can reach with your voice. Just Istlan and Barquea?”

“Yanse as well. My... Father, Prince Alpert, is the Regent there. Holding it for his baby son, Leopold. My baby half-brother.”

The words had him slapped on the back, as they reached a now familiar door. The serving woman for their room went wide eyed, and froze, seeing who was there. Anders smiled at her and waved.

“Could you take this tray for us? I’d walk it to the scullery, but I can barely find myself here, much less an entire room.”

The words got the woman to sneer at him a bit.

“Oh, certainly... Until you learn where to take them yourself, at least.”

That sounded fair enough, but for some reason the interplay had the Sulat laughing. Then he knocked on the door, which had Conrath opening it, almost instantly. Everyone in the room went silent, seeing who’d come to visit.

Anders, once in the space, noticed the lack of bowing. He hadn’t, himself, which apparently was correct for the place they were in. At least in unofficial situations. Heading to his bed, where there was a package of documents set aside, he passed that to the Sulat, nodding.

“Those pictures? Here are the fellows that did the real work on things. I just gave them an illusion to draw from. There was some writing work and other things as well.” He elaborated on that part, and talking the men up a bit, since they were, after a fashion, friends of his.

The Sulat, very obviously, understood what he was doing toward that end. The man didn’t get frustrated with it though, smiling instead. Pleased, it seemed, or at least pretending to be well enough that everyone was left happy with the man. Honored that he’d come to meet them. He got their names, as well, and touched hands and arms, as he did that.

It was personal and personable, all at the same time.

Then, when he headed back to the door, holding his new burden of document, he turned to Anders.

“We’ll meet again soon? Please also spend that time with Shaman Smidt, if that works for you? Also, I’d love to see your work on that new idea you had, with the pictures at a distance?”

Ander snorted.

“You mean the idea you had? Let me see what I can manage that way. It’s a good concept, if I can pull it off at all. It was nice meeting you, Sulat Mondeth. I hope to do so again, soon.”

That had him patted again, on the shoulder, as the man left the room.

Then, after some few moments, the other men started to gush, pleased.

“The Sulat came to meet with us? I hadn’t expected that. He was very kind, too, wasn’t he?”

The other men kept talking about that, for a good long while, So Anders settled on his bed, cross legged, and started to think about what might be needed to make a person see an illusion at a distance.

That wasn’t going to be a simple illusion, of course. Doing it that way would take far too much energy to make happen. No, it needed to be a thing placed on the eyes of one individual at a time, providing enough light to be seen, without blinding or harming the person. At the same time, he wasn’t going to be able to easily build a picture, as he did with words. Not that it was simple to do that, truly.

No, he needed to form that image like he did an illusion, but at the same time focus it only on the right spot, so that it would show to the one person needing to see it.

As a project, it was enough to keep him distracted, for a good long while. What he came up with meant learning twenty-seven new phrases, as well, or did at first. Some of those would be constant, so he could run the ideas into a single phrase... In the end it was put down to a tidier fifteen words, each of them meaning something new. It would, if done correctly, show anyone he indicated a single image. One that he had to produce as an illusion in front of him, at the same time.

Technically, he realized, he could also show anything he was looking at that way, with only a few changes in the words used. It would leave the person seeing things blind to what was in front of them, of course, but could still be useful, in certain situations.

Then, after going over all of that several times, he set to work on the new concepts he needed to learn. It went fast, but he had to eat and sleep, so wasn’t really ready for any testing, until the next day. His target for that, was of course, Depak Sona. The man was awake for the day, and Anders was able to warn him first, that he was going to try something, that might not work.

The reason for choosing him was twofold. First the man was brave and willing to notice where improvements were needed. Second, if Anders left him blind, he knew how to heal himself. At least he should have that down. Anders didn’t, totally, but he knew it was possible, in theory. Depak probably knew how to do that sort of thing, without even thinking too hard about it.

Anders hoped that was the case, at least. Not that he told the man exactly what was planned. He did wait though, for the man to respond to him.

“Ready.” The single word played in his ear, five times.

Then, carefully, taking his time to make a small, harmless seeming image of a floating red ball, Anders spoke the complex spell, focusing on the image in front of him. He wasn’t able to do much else at the moment, so had to wait for Depak Sona to get back to him.

“A red ball? It seems to be a fine illusion.”

He changed that then, showing first an image of Depak Sona himself, and then each of the would-be assassins they had a face for. After the first three, Depak spoke in his ear again.

“Wait. I need to find some people. Hold there.”

That, whatever was happening, took about two hours to put together, before the voice came back.

“Now, do that again? I’m attempting to make illusions on this end. Go slowly.”

It wasn’t easy and he started to breathe hard as he did the work, though part of that was him being a bit tired, as far as magic went. Slowly though, over time, five of the images were called out. Three of them were guards from the Palace of Sula Darian. One was Liasa, as expected. The last one, a man of about thirty, caused a stir.

“Prince Rollo. We’re checking his whereabouts now. Also, Anders... This is incredible. You’ll show me how to do this?”

He nodded, and dropped the visuals. Then sent a message back.

“I’ll show you how to do this, on the next meeting. If we can meet. Please keep me updated on the search for that prince.” It was horrible that there had been guards in the mix, as it was. Each of them fanatical enough to kill themselves, for some reason.

It was shocking that Liasa had done that, of course. Worse, really, the princess hadn’t even done it in revenge for her brother. Not openly, at least. Anders could have understood that, after a fashion. It wasn’t a fair thing to say, but blaming Anders for Lassa’s passing was possible. He’d failed to help change the boy, after all.

It seemed that he’d failed to help a lot of people that way.

To the best of his knowledge, he’d never even met a Prince Rollo, if the assassin had been that man at all, and not just someone made to look like him. It was daunting to imagine, all of those people dying, in an attempt to get rid of him. It also didn’t make any sense. Even if they didn’t want him to be the Sula someday, doing something like undermining him would probably work just as well. Making it seem like he was a lover of men, perhaps, would probably do it. That would take no more than a few lies and a naked man being seen fleeing from his room, most likely. Then a few well-placed rumors...

Instead, they’d tried to kill him, using vast magical powers.

Blinking, he sighed and then nodded to himself.

“Let’s see what Ganges has to say about this?” After all, Hoatha and Martya either knew about it all, being part of it, or they would have ideas about how to handle the whole thing.

Possibly not, but they were both old and well versed in intrigue as well as familiar with the area things were taking place in, living not too far away, in the Red Desert.

He was careful, but he sent both words and images, to both of them.

For a while there was no response at all. A very long while.

Chapter twenty-one

It was three full days after the attack had taken place before Anders was actually contacted by anyone in his group. The timing felt off to him, but he didn’t let himself worry too much. Keeping him, one of the two prime targets, away from the others there made a certain amount of sense to him, to be honest. No one else was thinking that way, it seemed.

Sweyn showed up at his door, with Eltha, Sondra and Erold in tow, and fairly tackled him into a hug.

“There you are! We were worried that you were angry with us, for letting you be attacked like that in Modroc. It... Father said he spoke to you, the other day and that you seemed fine? You didn’t rail at him or suggest he offer lives in payment?”

The interesting portion was that the girl, who looked no more ready to have a child now than she had several days before, though there was a very real bump showing, low on her belly, seemed to think that was as serious question. Then, so far in his communications, everyone had acted as if it was. Even to the point of being surprised when Anders wasn’t blaming Sula Darian for the attempt, or Sulat Mondeth for a cult that existed in his land having been involved.

For one thing, Anders wasn’t certain yet that it truly was that group.

The other factor was different, of course. He hugged Sweyn though, enjoying it a bit more than was proper, but not enough to shame himself in public or force Prince Erold to hit him. Then he gestured everyone into the room. The shared space, though the men there waved and smiled easily enough, being known to everyone who came. They were friends, even.

“Of course not. As far as I can tell so far, none of the rulers of any land seem to be involved in this.”

That got a shocked look, from Eltha.

“But, a Princess of Barquea tried to murder you. Us. All of us, but I think my name was mentioned directly?”

That was true, of course.

“Right. So far, and this could change... Here, everyone, find a place to sit. Share bed space with people?” He grinned, and rolled his eyes. “That sounds a bit naughty, doesn’t it? Still, we don’t have any chairs in here, so, sit where you can?”

Then he went on, expressing his thoughts on the matter.

“We seem to have several different factors involved here. Like I mentioned, all of this might change, as we learn more. The Blades of the Goddess seem to be after you Eltha. Prince Naveed as well. There also seems to be a group of people in the line of succession there in Barquea who are working loosely with the Blades, who are focused on Prince Naveed and myself. So far. Clearly, if they’re after us, then they’re either working with Nedros and Sendra, or they’re targets as well.” He shrugged.

“I, um, should probably get with both of them and anyone else near the top of the line as well, given that. If Liasa didn’t lie to me, then we can’t trust our ability to read anyone’s intent in their thoughts. They have magics to proof themselves against that. It works well enough that Liasa stood in front of me, with me reading her thoughts and I couldn’t tell she was herself. That... well, if they can do that, then wizardry isn’t reliable on that topic, for the time being.”

Prince Erold squinted, and sat on the edge of Geralt’s bed. The other man was on it too, and nodded, but didn’t say anything about the liberty.

“I see. So, the person mainly behind the attack on you is likely in the top ten of those in line for the throne of Barquea? It would be insane to try and murder more than a few people, since that would start a civil war, instead of a transfer of power as desired. Do we have any way to find who it is?”

Anders nodded.

“We can remove some of them from the list, instantly. I’m not a serious contender for that, and have mentioned that to Naveed, Nedros and Aisla. The Sula as well. If I were ever selected, then for the good of Barquea, I would have to decline the honor. I’m simply not a man of that land and wouldn’t be the best to govern or rule there. So, that should clear me, I hope?” He grinned, but too many people in the room seemed to agree it was a serious point.

He counted the others out.

“Naveed... well, if he was behind it, worried that I was coming for his place, even if that isn’t happening, then having himself stabbed a hundred times kind of means we should probably promote him for the job anyway. I can’t imagine allowing that to happen on purpose. More to the point, it’s too much for him to bother with. He already has the top spot. Holding that doesn’t require this kind of action.”

Again, most of the room nodded, so he continued.

“Sendra... I’ve met her three times and we worked together well enough? She’s not exactly friendly, but she isn’t hateful, from what little I’ve noticed, either. It could be her behind it all. She lives away though and has military sensibilities. Nedros is much the same. Also... I don’t think he actually wants to be the Sula or even the heir. That’s a guess. Aisla is number four on the list.”

Prince Erold waved at him on that one.

“She’s in Istlan and has always said that she isn’t in serious consideration, due to that. She can’t take Alpert to Barquea and a big portion of her advancement comes from her work there, so it probably isn’t her. Also, I know her and she isn’t that sort of person.”

Anders nodded.

“Agreed. Jasmin is in the ninth place and I’m in the tenth. It could be number eleven, but that seems like a lot of bodies to climb over. I’m not certain who holds the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth places, to be honest. Really, out of all of this, the most likely person would be me, wouldn’t it?”

Sweyn and Erold both nodded, Sondra made a shrewd face and Eltha shook her head.

“How would that work?”

“On the last listing, I was slated to be in the second position. Depak asked Darian to set me down the list, so that I wouldn’t be that close to the top position. I’d thought it was about keeping me humble at the time, or possibly in acknowledgment that I wouldn’t be taking the position. Now I wonder if it had been to prevent people from trying to kill me? The thing is, a lot of people have mentioned to me that some of the things I’ve been doing might still make me seem a serious contender that way. The healing work and even taking on Lassa as a project, regardless of that failing, in the end. I also aided Naveed, when he was injured. I don’t know that would change my placement, but...”

Sondra, a woman of Modroc, gave him a hooded expression. The normally vapid seeming, though charming and kind, woman dropped her act, for a moment. It showed on her face, and in her words, as she spoke.

“The servants at the palace of Sula Darian noticed that and spoke of it, often. Some were shocked that you weren’t named the Heir, since Naveed had offered to step aside for you. A few spoke about the works you were doing, as well. Even that you didn’t make a big thing about it being done by Prince Anders. Calling yourself Cart Boy, instead? Also, when the Sula spoke of you losing your place, to save Prince Lassa that first time, you accepted it. Naveed himself went to the Sula and explained that you didn’t know it was a common form of teasing there. Everyone figured that meant you’d shot up the list, suddenly. It’s probably why they were after you. In the next list your name will probably be at the top.”

Anders didn’t pretend to be shocked that she understood all of that. He also didn’t doubt her sources. They were probably very good ones, that kind of thing being her job.

“I gathered as much, myself. Except that it won’t be happening that way. I’d have myself taken from the list, before displacing Naveed. So, that leaves us with two problems, still.”

Erold nodded, and Sweyn made a face, but didn’t speak. No one did, for a moment. Finally Conrath, sitting across the room, rubbed at his beard.

“That cult and the royals of Barquea who want you and possibly that Naveed and those others to die?”

Anders smiled, grimly.

“Exactly. Clearly, that some of them are princes and princesses is the bigger issue. Possibly, at least.”

Sweyn let her head tilt from side to side.

“How so? I mean, there are hundreds of cult members. We think so at least. They’re masters of oracles as well, having Devica who work with them and tell them of the future. When we send troops, they’re always already gone from their holds and keeps.”

Understanding that, he nodded.

“I’ll find them and remove them from the playing field. I’ll have to work out how to hide from their friends. That or act faster than they can move. Then I’ll need to go to Barquea again and probably make the Sula hate me, by showing how many of his family are evil. Still, we need to protect the others there, even if it costs me my new family.”

For some reason everyone sobered then and seemed dark, as if that, him losing out on a title, was the worst portion of it. Not him saying bluntly that he intended to murder people for having joined the wrong group. They were assassins, so it was probably that which caused them not to be too concerned that way.

Sweyn, a little laboriously, stood up then.

“We need to speak to my father, then, before we take action. This way, Anders. Everyone going after the cult of the Death Goddess, as well.”

Anders rose, expecting to be heading out alone. Eltha stood up too, as did Erold. The boy smiled.

“I think I can do that hiding thing well enough now. Holding it for weeks will be hard, but I’ll work out how to make that happen.”

Shrugging, Conrath got up as well.

“I’m no fighter, but I can ride a horse and help navigate the land in this part of the world. I know it as well as anyone.”

Anders smiled, hoping that offer didn’t mean the man was a member of that particular cult. He likely wasn’t, of course. Anders was still alive, after all. Then, the cult wasn’t after him, particularly. Eltha would be the one in danger, if that was the case. She was also alive, so it probably wasn’t the case. The man had been near her for a full year, in a different land, if that had been the case.

They were led, at a good walking pace, across the large structure. They were in the above ground portion, but it seemed to have been carved from a mountain. The whole of the thing, which was vast inside. The construction was similar to what he’d noticed in Ferlith, which probably meant that the Devica had constructed the whole thing, probably centuries before.

A long while later they were taken through a wooden door, a rather plain one, which had a Sulat on the other side. He was speaking to a room full of men and women, sitting on pillows, on the floor, or lounging on low, rather long, platforms. Those had soft looking pillows as well. There was a riot of bright colors to the space.

Everyone looked at them, when they came in, with the Sulat smiling.

“Sweyn! Prince Erold... Great One!” The man stood up, and passed out hugs. Erold got one of those, which made sense, being family to the man, as he was. Sondra got one as well, as did Eltha. Anders was patted on the arm.

“Prince Anders. Are you well?”

He nodded.

“Much recovered. We have some thoughts, about minor happenings, it might not be best to bother these others with our concerns, of course.” He felt awkward, suddenly, but Sweyn made a face at him.

“No, this is the right group. Anders is planning to remove the Blades of the Goddess from the world. He can find them and reach them before they flee again. Do we have anything about where they might be, at the moment?”

One of the men sitting on a yellow pillow, near the back of the room, spoke. He was dressed like a guard, in purple and looked familiar, having been in charge of that sort after the light weapon had been used in Billeth.

“We have some indications that they’re in the mountains, to the south, in the cave system there. Near the Sea of Green. We haven’t acted on that news, since it seems futile. How do you intend to approach them?” The man sounded doubtful.

Anders simply muttered a few words, cleared his mind totally, and vanished. Truly, becoming too boring to notice. Seeing that had first Erold and then Eltha doing the same thing. Sweyn rolled her eyes.

“Braggarts.” Her lips twisted into a grin. “They can hold this for some time and it will hide them from the minds of men and even being seen through time. Then... Well, Anders Brolly might well take a few hundred men and women without much struggle.”

Sounding a bit skeptical still, the man in the purple head wrap and matching outfit scoffed.

“One boy is going to take on an army of assassins? By himself?”

Erold and then Eltha both became visible then, so Anders did that as well, a short time later. Prince Erold smiled at the man on the yellow pillow.

“Not alone. So far, they seem best at using a knife to the back. In head to head combat they might not fair that well. It won’t serve to get lazy or underestimate them, but I like our chances.”

Mondeth waved at the gray bearded fellow behind them.

“Conrath is going as well? How will a craftsman aid you?”

The man nodded at the words, as if agreeing.

“I plan to help them on their journey, only, Sulat. I traveled the land here muchly, in my youth. I was a traveling merchant for some decades.”

Instead of saying no, there was a nod from the old ruler.

“Very well. Is this... I can send a real force with you, if you wish? Can you hide a hundred men?”

Erold shook his head, and Eltha looked annoyed at the question. Anders simply thought for a moment.

“If they’re close to us and we plan carefully first? That could be possible. I probably can’t do that for weeks, but... I’d like to ask some of the Devica about this, first?”

The Sulat shook his head.

“That’s too close to war. They won’t aid us in that, without great work from the Shaman. Even then, they tend to work best in support areas.”

Anders thought he understood that. The reasoning behind it, as well.

“I want advice, only. Perhaps after the entertainment I’ve been offering them? I need to rest for some days first, anyway, and rebuild myself, before going on a mission such as this.”

The old man looked at each of them, then nodded.

“I understand. You have my blessing, if you needed that? We should speak at some length, if you live through this, Prince Anders? Or... before you travel, so you may contact me directly?”

He agreed with that, if the man was willing.

“Come to the show, later? I need to practice first, but we should see if anyone can show up for that tonight?”

The man grinned. Then gestured at Sweyn.

“Daughter, the large hall for that?” It was clearly an order, without being given as one at all.

Then, Sweyn didn’t stomp her feet or claim that leading Anders to that spot was somehow beneath her. Princesses could run in both directions, but Anders had never noticed Princess Sweyn being anything other than charming and at worst, a bit quiet. More so when she’d been in Istlan, but returning home hadn’t stripped her of dignity, only made her seem more open and expansive.

“We could have that show after the last meal? Not that us human people are invited. I’m still planning to sneak in, unless that would insult our guests?”

Anders smiled.

“That will probably be fine. I’ll ask if they want to share the treat though, so no crying or complaining if they say no.” It had been a thing promised to Jonpries after all, so was their’s to share or hold back from others.

Anders had work to do, needing to practice the event, as well as connect with the invitees. To that end, he simply sat, after running through what he wanted for the evening, which would be heavy on full scenes, with music being very important to the event, rather than making it seem like it was a real thing. He thought that would work better for the type of person coming in for the evening. If any of them showed up.

The new concept he worked on was simply a name for Jonpries. Then, having that, Anders tried to speak to the being and was a little shocked when it didn’t cause anything to explode or for a mental howl of pain to hit him when he checked on his friend. Who was in Istlan, from the feel of things.

The message invited them, and anyone who wanted to come with him, for the event, and gave the location and time. There was no sense of acceptance or rejection, of course. What he did understand was when the being spoke to Far, and explained what had happened. So the meaning of the communication had gotten through, or so it seemed.

Still, he was anxious, when evening came. He ate, since not having food in his middle wouldn’t help, regardless of anyone coming or not. Then, as the eighth horn blew, a powerful thing that came from a good distance away, Anders was led to the large hall.

To find it filled with nearly three hundred beings of various colors, all of them floating peacefully, nudging and bumping one another.

He moved to the front, noticing that about ten humans were there in the room as well, with Sweyn and her father and his friends, sitting next to Jonpries. He waved, then amplified his voice, so it would reach everyone in the large space.

“Welcome friends! I tried to tailor this to be interesting to our Devica companions. If I miss the mark, tell me after the show so that I can improve, for the future! I hope you enjoy the events.”

Then he had to focus, muttered and brought up a swell of music. No players, but the room opened up, showing an open sky, that was purple and gold, with a sun overhead, and the sea below. There was a sense of interest at least, as he continued, scene collapsing into movement of color, growing into a pure tone that underscored the music and existed as only light, for a time. The entire room vanished, and became something different, with a sense of peace pervading the entire thing.

The tunes changed, being driving and pulsing at one moment, and slowing into an almost silent thrumming that should, if done correctly, be louder for the energy beings. This, the whole thing, went on for a bit less than an hour, the room turning back into a well decorated stone room, at the end. Anders waited, the whole space being still, for a very long time.

There was no explosion of noise, but he hadn’t expected that at all. Instead, there was a calling out.

In at least ten languages.

“More! More! Again!”

Anders took that as being a good sign, so did another song, then waved to everyone.

“Please, all of you, feel free to visit with me, or these others, as you will. Also, Shaman Smidt? He recently discovered that not acting like you were monsters to be entreated for gifts was a good thing, or so I hear?”

The man himself was in the audience, and instead of glaring or acting put upon, put his right hand up, and then stood.

“Sorry, my friends! I’ll attempt to do better from now on. Forgive me?” If they did the room didn’t call out about it. Several of the beings floated his way, however.

Jonpries first, but also a half dozen others at the same time.

The large red being spoke first.

“That was most interesting! Grander than I thought a human was capable of, in fact. Will you be doing this again, in the future?”

One of the smaller green beings snorted, and then spoke in a familiar voice. In Yansian.

“Damning him with faint praise? That was amazing, Anders! I hope you don’t mind my coming? We seemed to part on good enough terms, last we spoke.” There was a tension then, not just from the one being, but from many of the others, their attention focusing on Anders so intensely that several of the people in the room looked scared.

He just smiled.

“Alder! Of course you’re welcome. In fact, I was going to invite Jonpries to a meeting after this? Perhaps tomorrow? There’s a small collection of assassins who keep trying to kill Eltha here, so I’m looking for advice as to how to deal with them. They have some friends like yourselves who are good oracles, I hear? I’m planning to remove them, the assassins, but don’t really want to anger those others, if possible.”

Alder didn’t say anything, but several of the others called out, which had two medium sized blue and one orange energy being floating over, almost instantly.

Jonpries spoke then, in ancient Modroc.

“Could you share that again, Anders Brolly?”

He did it, not knowing why these others had been called to them, specifically. Not until one of them... made a strange sound. Like the clearing of a throat. It was the orange one, and she sounded distinctly female. Also slightly annoyed.

“Well! We know who you mean, then. I fear that they truly haven’t been very nicely behaved of late. I’m their Goddess. I promise I haven’t been asking them to kill anyone. We told them the future, and even tried to explain that it doesn’t mean what they think it does, but they can’t understand that them being undone or changed isn’t a bad thing. They fear destruction, so are bringing it on themselves. It’s largely a language barrier. I’m out of date, as far as such things go, I fear.”

Anders froze, then smiled at the lovely orange lady.

“I... Think I understand. I could teach you modern Modroc? Or travel with you and explain things to them?” He sighed. “If we do that last one, it will almost certainly end up with them being wiped out. Even if I try to be polite. They’re a bit fanatical.”

The Orange lady, the Goddess, gave off a sense that was rather long suffering.

“No doubt. I’d... Like to save them, if I can? What cost would you ask for their lives?”

It was strange that the woman, the energy being, assumed that he was the one to be bargained with for that, not the other way around. No one called him a god, either. It probably meant she was polite, rather than weak.

He spread his hands.

“Honestly? If they could turn away from unneeded violence, that would be enough for me. One moment? Let me ask the Sulat here what he thinks on the matter.”

The man responded to his title, if not the ancient language being used.

“This being, the orange one, is the Goddess that the Blades worship. There seems to be a small language barrier happening, and she isn’t best pleased about all the killing. Would you be fine with letting the assassins reform, and keep their lives, if they stop doing that kind of thing? I did mention that I might have to destroy them if they won’t stop, but...”

Everyone there suddenly turned to him. Prince Erold bowed. Using second courtly. Toward the orange being.

“Goddess. Well met.”

Anders translated that, as the Sulat spoke.

“If we can guarantee they stop killing? At least doing no more of that than any group might?”

That was passed along, the Goddess bobbing in place.

“If we can? Thank you for allowing me to save my followers, Human Brolly. If we cannot do so, please make their deaths as painless as possible? I seek to ease the passing of all beings, as they transition to new states of being. It’s my true message.”

He nodded, and also spoke, not knowing if the energy people could understand such minor movements. Really, he needed to ask, but it didn’t seem the right time for such things, just then. Indeed, if he spoke about that kind of thing, it probably wouldn’t be with a Goddess.

“Yes. We will seek to save them first?” He looked at the Sulat, who nodded when he translated the question. “Then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll make their passing as painless as we can manage. First, are you willing to learn a new language? I have to imagine their own Goddess coming to them and explaining things clearly would be most impressive to them!” He’d never taught an energy being that kind of thing, but figured it was possible.

Alder had spoken about teaching his friends different skills. If that was possible, then a language should be.

What was interesting was that not only the Goddess and her two attendants, the actual oracles in question, offered to stay to learn, so did several others. Even Alder did, as well as Kines and Hollan. The only trouble was that they all seemed to think that starting in on that just then, right there in the grand hall, made some kind of sense. Anders chuckled and clapped his hands.

“Wonderful! We’ll start at first light, in Shaman Smidt’s plant house?”

That also worked, it seemed. Everyone that could float away left them, the room suddenly lacking a certain buzzing quality that hadn’t been noticed until it was gone.

Erold made a considering face.

“That was different. Do you think that they’ll warn their people to run?”

Anders didn’t really know. It was very possible, of course. What they needed to see was if they came back in the morning, for those lessons.

“Even if they do, that doesn’t mean they won’t work with us, if we handle things properly. Regardless, I need to sleep, and to work out how to teach people with no bodies how to speak a new language.”

He feared it might be difficult, in ways that he’d never considered at all before.

It was also interesting sounding, he had to admit. A thrilling thing that, even if he failed at it, would be worth trying. Instead of letting fear cripple him on the topic, he started to plan out a class, assuming that he could do it in a way similar to what he’d always done. If that didn’t work... Well, then he’d question Alder about how to do better. The man had taught that kind of being before, after all. If that didn’t work, he’d connect with Far and ask him.

Doing the work himself, first, seemed a bit more masterful, so he decided to try that before begging for help. Not that pride was going to get in his way. What he didn’t do, didn’t allow himself to consider, was if the plan would be useful at all. It might well not, he knew. Past that, he didn’t think about it at all. It wasn’t a thing he could impact by worrying about it.

That took effort, which he placed into the class lesson for the next day. Right up until he finished his bow drawing exercises and started his nightly magical review. Then, in the shared room, he drifted off to sleep. Hoping that the new plan would work. Not that he dreaded killing people or anything. No, he truly didn’t mind that part at all.

What he did want though, was the good regard of the people of Modroc. Mainly because he feared that he truly didn’t have that, good regard, in any other land. In Istlan he was a killer magic user, so a person to dread. In Yanse he was the Warbow, who had wantonly slaughtered a hundred thousand good men. Apparently, at least some in Barquea wanted him dead. Possibly just to get him out of the way, which might not be that personal. It had sounded a bit that way when Liasa had mentioned it to him.

It would, he thought, be truly nice if there was at least one place in the world where he wasn’t hated, before he had a chance to win his true place. Even being unknown was better than being feared before he even met people.

That was let go, almost instantly. He was what, and who, he’d chosen to become. Lamenting that now was as useless as worrying about what a Goddess would tell her own followers. All he could do was hope that things didn’t go the wrong way, while readying himself to handle it, if it did.

With that cheery set of thoughts, Anders forced himself to sleep. Facing the day without rest wouldn’t benefit him, after all. Neither would being too pessimistic. That, pessimism, was harder to let go of, but he managed it, eventually. Before darkness took his mind.

Chapter twenty-two

Anders had expected there to be problems, teaching a new language to energy beings, of course. They were different individuals, as well as simply seeing the entire world in a fashion that he could barely comprehend. That said, what the real problem ended up being was nearly delightful, as to how simple it was to fix.

Devica, the energy beings, ghosts and nature spirits, didn’t have bodies. They still learned the memory techniques he put forward easily enough. None of them were special talents that way, but it clearly helped them learn the new words. What they didn’t have a good concept of was how a physical human being worked.

Which, in the end, wasn’t that important. He taught them the words in a way that made sense to them, as parts of a whole that could move or not, and left the concept alone. After all, most of them had been around for a very long time, and knowing a hand from a foot simply wasn’t going to change their lives at all.

Once he had that portion of things down, the rest of the lessons went fairly easily. That, in all, took about two months. It was slow, for simply learning a single language, but not cripplingly so. In that time, Anders practiced, healed up from the attack of light and fire and prepared himself for a war to the death with the cultists.

Then he rode out, with five hundred of the Sulat’s soldiers, all dressed in deep brown, the clothing made of decorated leather with chain mail over it, in what had to be a fashion that was brutal in the heat of the summer there in Modroc. Beside him were not only Erold and Eltha, but Jonpries and Alder Cohen. The two blue oracles, which were actually called that, the Blue Oracles, and the Goddess of Death, had gone ahead. To speak to her people and hopefully get them to change their ways.

Even after months of working with the friendly beings, Anders wasn’t certain they hadn’t moved out to protect their friends, or at least get them to flee, ahead of the small army that was riding toward them.

Some of the new information that he’d picked up from the energy people wasn’t that helpful, of course. For instance, while they were all aware that the Blades had been working in Barquea, and that they had people there as well, no one claimed to hold any special knowledge of dealings with important princes or princesses there. They also didn’t know of any silver trinkets that would kill large amounts of humans in light and fire. That, or hide them from the minds of a wizard or cast an illusion over them, that would fool anyone watching it.

It seemed a strange thing not to understand about those who worshiped you, at least to Anders, but Jonpries and Alder both seemed to trust that it was the truth, so Anders didn’t press in on that score, simply assuming it was a real enough thing.

It took two weeks of steady, rather forced, travel to reach the cave complex on the southern coast. Those were simple and rough-hewn things, not carved by magic or Devica at all. Not even by the use of stout tools, being of hard rock as they were. When they found the main entrance, they were met, by what seemed to be the Goddess, her Blue Oracles and every human being who lived there.

None of them wearing their death masks or holding weapons.

“Welcome! Please, we have food and clean water, come and join us!”

The woman who spoke seemed to be older, without being aged. Her hair was light in color, nearly white, with an unlined face. It was a sign that she was ridden by an energy being and had been for some time. Probably more than a century. Far had a similar look to him, at least.

Dismounting Juniper, Anders waved at the woman.

“Well met! I’m Anders Brolly. Let me introduce everyone, if that serves?”

The lady in the front smiled, as if meeting with old friends.

“That would be wonderful.”

It didn’t take long, since the masses of fighters, all looking on uneasily, didn’t come forward to share their names. No one tried to attack them or anything, either. Sarath, the lady who was in charge of the Blades, led Anders, Erold and Eltha inside, settled them on some rough pillows and sighed in their direction, as others there brought carefully prepared foods.

“First, please allow me to say how very sorry we all are. We... It’s rather embarrassing, but the Oracles, we thought they were telling us that we had to destroy you, Great One, and your consort, or else we would be led to ruin, ourselves. The Goddess came to us herself, two weeks ago and explained that we had misunderstood. That doing that, trying to kill you to solve our problems, was what would lead us to our doom. That a great power from the north had stirred, and would smash us without thought, if we did not give over those plans.” She shook her head. “So, we have. When the Goddess speaks, it is our place to listen.”

She waited then, as if expecting Eltha or possibly Erold, to call her names, or seek her removal from the world. At least she looked in those directions.

Anders simply nodded.

“Well, if you are giving up your old ways, for better ones, I think we can avoid most of those issues. Your Goddess spoke to protect you all, from past happenings. A lot of people aren’t too happy with you, but if you do as she demands, that will likely be repaired, in time.”

There was a bit of a glare, from the woman, then a slow, grudging, nod.

“It’s a bit of a shame, really. We were rather good at removing problems from the world. Still, that is the past. Now, I was told you might have questions for us? Specifically, that we had to answer honestly and fully, or you would probably destroy us, despite the pretty words you just spoke? The Blue Oracles were very clear on that. More so than ever before, in fact. They speak perfectly, now, of a sudden.”

There was no hint of suspicion in her tone, so Anders smiled.

“The future is hard to know that way, even for the very best of seers. It changes and warps, all around us, as our actions, words or even thoughts change. So, let’s try for something peaceful? I do have some questions, if that’s allowed?”

She’d just said it was, but he didn’t want to seem rude. Eltha, very clearly, nearly snapped at him, as if the woman were going to say it wasn’t, if given a chance.

Sarath simply bowed her head.

“As you will.”

“You, your people, worked with some individuals out of Barquea, do you know who they are?”

That got a shrug. A heartfelt thing, it seemed.

“Not personally. We have agents there, and along the border, who made contact with some of the brats of the Sula there. They wanted power, or more to the point, one of them wants more power and used his own skills to take the minds of the others. Using the magic they all learn there? I don’t know the name, truly. It’s a man? Not their Heir, or so I was told. That’s all I have on that.”

Anders nodded, and smiled at the others.

“That... I hadn’t thought of that kind of thing. I’ve never learned to control the will of others, personally, so it never occurred to me to think about that. One person is behind this? We don’t know who, but that sounds much easier to deal with than I feared.” He’d thought it was most of them, truth be told. One enemy was, in the end, a single person.

Even if they hated him, personally, it was easier to bear than the idea that hundreds loathed him that way.

Focusing, he brought up a floating image of the small silver bracelet that Liasa had shown him. Several of the people in the room gasped and pointed at it, seeming fearful as it started to glow with a soft white light.

Sarath went white around the eyes and hissed.

“Treachery!” She started to stand, as Anders shook his head.

“Nothing like that. It’s only illusion. A seeming. Here...” With a wave of his hand, the thing vanished, and looking frightened still, the woman eventually settled on her brown pillow again.

“So, you’ve seen such magic before?”

That got a nod.

“We have. Necklaces, but the work was similar. That glow... There is a man who came, some fifty years ago now. He was friendly, and pleasant, but handed such trinkets out to any who wanted them. I was the leader here then as well. The Goddess didn’t think they were a problem at all. Then, one day, as we did our yearly trip into the city for goods, they began to glow. I nearly died from it, as did any who wore such a thing. Hundreds of others did as well.”

Anders nodded.

“It happened again, recently. One of the Princesses of Barquea and a Prince, probably mind controlled, both died in that way. Hundreds of others were injured as well. Many of them were people from here, it seems. Your people. This man... Was it... I’m going to make some illusions. They are only seemings, if that works for you?”

She nodded, subdued. Seeming a little bit annoyed, suddenly.

“Do it, if it will serve at all. Use your evil magics.”

He didn’t think it was evil at all, but produced, with a bit of concentration, an image of Hoatha first. Holding his breath as the woman looked at the image.

She blinked, but shook her head.

“It’s as if this boy is standing here, with us! Amazing, but that isn’t anyone I’ve ever met or seen.”

Even if she wasn’t a man, he showed Martya next, then Farad Ibn Istel. The woman gasped at that one, but only reached out to touch the image.

“The Founder! I met him, oh, hundreds of years ago. I was but a girl, back then. Forgive me, but this isn’t the man of pain. How could he be? He’s The Founder.”

Anders could see that, but explained anyway.

“A friend of mine, put in only as a test. Now, I’m going to have to go through a lot of people, I fear.”

Every ruler, every heir, every prince he could think of. Every man of Ferlith he recalled, as well as every man of Modroc who had travelled with them on their journey there. The men and woman in the cave, most of who were standing off to the sides, the hole in the ceiling allowing the light of day in, if dimly, gasped as one when he finally got to the correct person.

Which took Anders by surprise.

Sarath pointed.

“Him! That is the one. The bringer of pain!”

Eltha sucked in a breath so deep it had to injure her.

“Kaidan Sett is the one who gave you those weapons? Fifty years ago? That... I’ve known him for years. He’s harmless. A talented actor and musician, a showman, but not...”

Taking a deep breath, the pillow suddenly uncomfortable underneath him, Anders closed his eyes.

“I see. A man who has lived a very long time, but is secret in his magic. We need to find out more about this, but I think we have what we’ve come for here. Thank you, all of you. Please, in the future, if you feel you must kill, send a note to me first? We might find a way around such things, if we work together.” They might not, as well, he knew.

The Blades were all smiles and kind words as they left, but several of them seemed to glare at them, their fingers and hands twitching, as if practicing the strikes that would lay him and the others low, in their minds. Their old ways had developed for a reason, of course. He could only pray that their Goddess would guide them to a better path, in the future.

That or kill them all. He nearly did it, turning on them then and there. Only the fact that he didn’t want to fight their god prevented that from happening. That, and the fact that Anders had given his word to save them, if at all possible. So, riding at the front of five hundred men, he and his friends left.

It was hours later that he nodded, having been thinking about what to do.

“I need to contact some people and go back to Barquea, as quickly as I may. There is a darkness in their midst. A serpent, coiled to strike at their very heart, it seems. At the same time, we need to figure out what Kaidan Sett is up to and what that has to do with us. Also, we need to learn what Clarisse has to do with that. He’s her husband, after all. Was her going to Istlan to his bidding or plan? Would she know it, if it had been? There is much to learn there. I can’t do both things at once.”

He tried to work that part of things out and kept coming up empty.

It was Alder who produced the real plan for them, then.

“I’ll go back to Billeth, with Prince Erold. We’ll find out what this man knows, and deal with him, if possible. You go to Barquea and protect your family there. It is treacherous, one striking at their own, in such a way, but that kind of thing happens in all lands. Eltha... You should travel back with Anders. You’re to marry there, so you have a stake in how this turns out. It’s dangerous, all the way around, of course.”

Jonpries laughed then.

“So it is! You have friends though, to aid you, both of your kind and mine. You won many over to your cause, teaching instead of killing, as you did. Saving, instead of destroying. Let us see if that can be done again?”

Anders sighed at the red cloud of energy.

“I doubt that whoever is behind it will live, hidden away at the palace. We must free their minds, if at all possible, those affected by this dark magic and then... Well, I imagine that the Sula will have to remove whoever did it.”

There was a pause then, and Alder spoke, his voice comforting and familiar.

“Indeed. We all know that. It isn’t a war though, or won’t be if you manage this well. We understand that pain and suffering will come. Only, let us have the least amount? That is all anyone can ask.”

He agreed with that, but didn’t speak. Instead, when the road broke, some fifty miles ahead, he and Eltha headed to the west, as the others rode back toward Billeth, to see what might be done about Kaidan Sett.

Anders could only hope that it wasn’t the wrong thing to do.

Even though, on a deep level, he couldn’t help but feel that it probably was.

Afterword

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