Date: 2019-12-19 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: The Amazing Series continues! A war of magic and arms is being fought to the East, while young Anders Brolly attempts to learn what he can of the arcane arts, in order to resist the ancient menace which plagues his home, and perhaps the entire world.Farad Ibn Istel, the historian from an ancient time, trapped in the boy's mind, blended with him by an evil man in order to save the child's life, seeks to aid the child, as best he can in these endeavors. A task which is often difficult and at times horrifying for a gentle soul such as he.Sent to the front lines of the war, on a mission of magic,

Crystals of Memory: Book Two

War Bow

P.S. Power

Copyright 2019

Orange Cat Publishing

Dedication

This work is dedicated to Gagandeep Singh Dhillon, who didn’t just sponsor me on Patreon... He’s also a great person outside of that. Ask anyone.

Chapter one

The force of the movement felt off to Anders, even as he lifted into the air, being flung higher than he’d ever been above the Earth before. The man who had done it, Depak Sona, froze in place, his left hand still raised, as if ready to catch the boy if he failed to figure out a way to save himself before he plummeted to the hard ground below. A thing that would be fatal to him, if either of them failed to act in a timely fashion.

A thrill of fear ran through him then, along with a mild threat of his trousers becoming damp. He figured that would have happened, if not for the fact that most of the water had already been wrung out of him by the work of the last hour. Regardless of that fact, it took nearly as much concentration to prevent that from happening in the moment as it did to compose a spell on the fly. He smiled as he thought that. He was, after all, actually flying at the moment. At least he was about to be, since dying was such a poor way to get anything meaningful accomplished, most days.

“Fla Andersana Fen ot!” He managed not to sound nearly as fearful as he felt in the moment. His voice was still a bit too high pitched, but that was the lot of a boy who had only seen twelve years. Though his real age was probably nearing thirteen.

He considered that, as he drifted downward, slowly. The wind of the day, which wasn’t stiff or blustery, though cold enough to be impressive, moved him away from his starting point as he floated through the air. No faster than a man might walk, ambling along.

Seeing that his trainee wasn’t about to die that day, the magician below smiled. Then he finished the flourish of his left hand. That was clad in heavy layers of silk and a material that was thicker than that, which was a thing new to Istlan.

Then, his voice pleasant, if loud, the Magician called out again.

It wasn’t in congratulations to Anders, either. No, it was a gout of fire that flew through the air at him. A white-hot line of real flame that at the very least would have burned him severely, if he didn't have anything ready to defend himself with. There wasn’t even time enough to speak a single word in response. All he could do was hold his hand up, a tinge of fear coming at him again.

It was his left, two fingers, the last ones, curled, the thumb out, a shield of energy and air forming, making the flames skip away from him. This time, unlike the last he’d faced such a thing, he didn't end up with burns on his arm. That was due, thankfully, to his having improved the shield he was using. Some weeks before he’d nearly died because he wasn’t ready to face magical flame. Now he was. It had taken him nearly a week to work out everything needed for it. Another to master the shield well enough to bring it into being inside a second, at need.

A thing that Depak Sona knew, of course. The Ambassador from Barquea having aimed flame at him many times as he tested and then reworked the thing. None of those had been a line of death ripping through the air, naturally. The fire wasn’t that accurate though, thankfully. It had drifted to the left of him, instead of being a direct blast against his magical protections. It was due to the technique used, the line of death being flung away from the other man, and that Anders was still drifting, making him harder to hit. Also, he was well out of range, really.

At least supposedly. He noticed that Master Depak was being accurate enough that had they both been on the ground, he could have easily cooked his young seeming friend, even if he was a hundred paces away. It was hard, nearly impossible to affect the world at greater than ten paces from the magic user. Many forms and styles had tricks to allow that to happen.

In this case, something different was going on that Anders had ever seen before. He thought it was simply that the other man was throwing the magic at him. Accurately enough that it was a viable weapon for the battlefield. If so, it was a new thing to him. A trick that the other man hadn’t even mentioned before. Except, when he considered it for a moment, that wasn’t true. He recalled the man having said that things could be flung away from the user, a few times. That had always been in reference to objects though, not the magic itself.

Which, when he considered the idea for a moment, he could see. The fire was the physical object and not a spell. Not that he didn't have to hold himself behind his protections as he kept floating downward, regardless of the distance between them. There was a serious problem with the spell that he’d used, even if it was working at the moment. He could make things float, and probably work out how to fly, given that. His body wasn’t that heavy, though he was breathing hard, gasping already, from the magic he was using at the moment. He didn't notice if he was sweating more than before. Mainly because Depak had pushed him to a level that had already left him drenched through his clothing.

Thankfully he’d been falling already, so was moving toward the safety of the ground, since he would have been hard pressed to perform a third spell at that moment to control where he went. It wasn’t impossible, magically speaking, but working out how to steer himself as he was watching the man on the ground and protecting himself was too much for him to think through.

He grimaced as he landed on the Earth.

“Fen.” The spell that he’d left open broke, his weight coming back, leaving his knees bending as he nearly buckled from the impact. The energy of the landing was still there, after all. Once he wasn’t floating, that part remained, pushing him downward as if he’d jumped into the air and returned.

He turned, half expecting Depak Sona to run at him, or use a different spell to attack. Perhaps one of water or ice in nature, to force him to adapt what he’d been doing without warning, again. It was the nature of the training they’d been doing. Instead, off in the distance, the bald man clapped his hands and called out.

“Excellent! That should be enough for today. Pushing you to true exhaustion won’t aid you in learning. Not past a certain portion of effort. You have limited reserves. We all do.” The man stiffened a bit, as Anders walked over. It wasn’t in worry over a counter attack, either.

No, it was due to what he’d spoken of. A thing that had been considered by both Farad, the old historian and Anders the child, in the previous days.

He nodded as he got closer.

“I know. I’m not willing to kill thousands of people to gain more power. Not even to stop Ganges. My old student seems not to have such a constraint left to him. It might not be possible for me to face him in battle, given that.” He sighed, which came out sounding young and a bit frustrated. Both parts of himself felt the same way over the issue. That was rare, since they battled over even little things, much of the time. “I... Probably can’t stop him, can I? Not alone. Even with an army it might not be possible. I’m a child in magic and he’s been practicing for hundreds of years. More than that. Over a thousand, that we know of.”

Ganges had been a terror for over five hundred years in his first life, but he’d clearly been back, after that. Probably with his mind trapped in a cursed crystal between times, waiting to return to the living. Maybe even more than one. It was possible that they weren’t facing a single copy of the man, given that. If he couldn’t beat one Ganges the Great, then ten would be an unstoppable force. Anders didn’t bother speaking on that topic at all. If they were over matched, then it was his part to see toward equalizing the situation.

Depak snorted at him.

“True. A man, using only the powers of a single body cannot overcome such a monster easily. These lessons aren’t to train you to fight such a force, Anders. It is merely to allow you to survive what is upon us now. We will have to find another way to stop Ganges the Terrible, no doubt. On the good side we do have time. I strongly doubt he’s going to die and escape us, for instance.” The man waved for him to follow, ignoring the gasping which was still going on.

Depak Sona was doing a bit of his own heavy breathing, not seeming to be worried about looking poorly over it. Then, there was no great virtue in hiding that from the boy with him. From the watchers, either. That part was new, having come only in the last few days. People from the castle, some of them guards, but many not, had come to watch him flounder and struggle not to die as Depak pushed him in new ways.

There were three groups there, with some of the servants standing well back, staring at him as if he might be something evil. One of them was Agorn, a serving man that Anders had never had much to do with. The fellow always spoke down to him, or had in the past. In the moment he positively glared, as if he wanted to fight. The rest of the servants just seemed troubled. Then, these five or six were the ones that didn’t fear magic too much, most likely. Anders noted who they were, just in case that factor was ever needed. A man or woman that didn’t fear such abilities could be useful to know.

The more noble crowd sniffed and acted unimpressed, at least. The guards waved at him as he passed, so he did it back. One of the noblemen smiled at least. It seemed a genuine thing, as if he was pleased with what the castle boy was getting up to. Baron Kilroy. Anders nodded at the man, since being friendly with those in power simply made sense to him.

No one called for him to stop and speak to them. There was no explanation as to why anyone had been there to observe him, either. Not that he needed one, really. What he and Depak had been doing was frightening to many, since magic was impressive. Seeing flying people and vast gouts of flame would be a good spectacle, to pass the time, as well. An amusement, after a fashion.

The same people often went to watch the knights practice as well, no doubt. Most of the very powerful weren’t actively working at anything, day to day, from what he could see. For the most part they went around spying on one another, trying to find plotting against their masters, and planning their own attacks and feints that way. There was probably more to it than that, but neither Farad or Anders had noticed it happening at any large level so far, if it was. There were others who regularly did real things there, of course. The guards were the baffling ones there, at the moment. They normally spent their time training or working, for the most part.

That six of them had been in attendance, watching himself and Depak, was a bit strange.

He moved along with the Ambassador, the men not following along or anything. If he were being guarded as a threat, they would have been right there, making certain that he didn’t do anything bad. That the King might be less than perfectly trusting of him made sense. That had been spoken of, if in hints, and gentle glances that were possibly telling.

Then, King Matthias hadn’t worked against him at all. Not even by withdrawing aid or privileges, which Anders had kind of suspected might happen after learning that it was Ganges, a man known to Farad Ibn Istel from his first life, who was their greatest foe.

Instead, the monarch had simply suggested that they needed to prepare for war. Yanse had declared open war against them, after all. There were only small engagements so far, but they were still only in the first months of the thing. A thing that might not even materialize as a real contest until the next spring. That gave them some time to prepare, though Anders the boy inside, rankled at the idea.

He wanted to go and settle things, right then.

Farad grimaced a bit, which was noticed by Depak.

Sighing, he shook his head at the older man as they walked. Then he muttered a spell, to dry himself, moisture hitting the shrubbery to the right, where his pale hand pointed. After that he took the dirt from his body, with a separate piece of magic.

Then he spoke, his voice a bit sour.

“I rather declared my intent to go and stop Ganges... then managed to spend most of my time taking messages for people. That’s hardly... The same.” He nearly stated that he wasn’t being useful, since Anders saw their using magic to send, and in the last week, receive, messages from the front as being little more than a page at the castle.

A message boy, sent off to run letters and tokens around the place.

Farad knew better, of course. He wasn’t a military man or warrior, but he had spent a lifetime learning the history of such things. In his head were great works on battle strategy, after all. All of them spoke of good communications as being a key to guiding armies.

Which gave him an idea.

“I need to leave soon. For the front.”

Depak Sona went hard then. His eyes dark and brooding, which wasn’t the man’s normal way at all.

“Do you truly think that you’re ready to battle armies on your own? I can see you managing to some extent, but...”

Farad snorted. It came out sounding young and a bit annoyed, since Anders simply wasn’t large enough to pull such a thing off. It was a matter of resonance, after all. His nose wasn’t big enough for the sound to be deep or manly, yet.

“Not that one. Not at all, in fact. Clearly, avoiding battle is always the course of greater sense, when possible. We can’t recall the generals and leaders from the front right now, however. We have three battle groups out, and only have good communications with one of them, so far. Captain Horner is the only person that I can get in touch with, using my new system. If they can’t answer to my pleasure, so I can gain the needed links to people, then I’ll need to go to them.”

That probably wasn’t going to be allowed. After all, he was a boy. Even if part of him simply wasn’t. Really, he was mainly the apprentice to the Bowyer and Fletcher, who also took lessons in magic and fighting in the afternoons. Which was what he needed to get to soon. The second portion of his magical training. He also had lessons with Master Tolan, who he was officially apprenticed to, at the moment.

It was a bit confusing, since normal boys tended to have only one such duty. Anders had, rather suddenly, been placed with far more than that. He had also had cooking lessons in the evenings, which made him smile, even if part of him begrudged the time it took each day.

Senna Grace had been given orders to train him to cook, mainly because Prince Erold had suggested he learn how, as a jest. Then Prince Robarts, the Heir, had written that down, setting it into action. It meant he ran constantly, from one task to the next, with little rest between times, most days. He’d half figured that would be over, after having come back from the north and east, having seen battle at Sapphire Lake like he had. At least the boy inside had figured that.

Farad knew that it would be years before he could truly rest. He had too much to learn, honestly. Focusing on fewer things made some sense to him, since it was obvious that he probably wasn’t going to become a castle cook for an occupation, or go into the Army doing that, either. Not that it harmed him to learn how it was done. It was simply that it was hard to juggle everything he had going on. Especially since he was called on, several times a week, often at random times, to pass messages.

Which would only be worse if he could contact each of the three battle groups. Still, there was a war on and him doing his duty to the kingdom had to be more important than avoiding a bit of work. Even Anders, a boy known for being rather lazy, understood that part of things.

The trick there, no doubt, was in figuring out who he needed to talk to about that kind of thing. He had to move out soon, really, if he was going to get to the front, learn what was needed and get back before the snows set in. That would make traveling too hard to manage, most likely. Being on the front lines, camping out for the winter, would be far less than fun. It was horrible for the men that had to do it, but needed. What wasn’t important was for him to be there, struggling to stay warm and standing watch with his own eyes.

At the main Ambassadorial hallway, Depak turned to him.

“I’ll see you in the morning? There are some minor things we need to speak about, soon. Nothing too important. I’ll need to have a message sent to Aisla. There was a missive from Sula Dorian, which should be discussed, soon.” Depak shrugged, then his face a bit wry. “Your grandfather, under the rules of my people. That is what we need to talk about. It’s not a thing to rush, or to worry over, to be honest.” He waved his hand then and walked off, not waiting for a reply.

The words were a bit cryptic, but Anders simply walked away. He wasn’t going to chase an Ambassador, calling out for him to explain himself. They could do that the next morning, when he cleaned the man’s room for him. He did that for the entire ambassadorial wing, though the real servants had actually started to take over for the rest of the day. Mainly he’d been turned into the chamber pot boy in the mornings, given that.

Finally.

That was down to Daren Willet, of course. The serving man who had stepped up and gotten the rest of the servants to realize that the Modroc and Barquea Ambassadors wouldn’t actually turn them into dogs or stab them, merely for trying to bring tea in a timely fashion. Really, all of the ambassadorial staff was polite and kind to the servants. More so than the Istlan nobles were, in general.

A thing that had taken time for the servants to learn. True, Daren still had to see to Depak Sona and Duma Sett himself, since they were magic users, and many were afraid of that type of person, but even that was going to wear away soon, Anders figured. It was just a matter of time and the fact that no one there was really doing anything bad. Well, except flinging him into the air and trying to light him on fire.

The servants had seen it, too. That wouldn’t help them feel protected and safe, he had to think. Unless they viewed it as Depak Sona being there to protect them from him, of course.

Rather than mutter about it, he moved off to the eastern tower, where Master Tolan was waiting for him. Except, at the door, after ten minutes of walking, the man wasn’t there at all. Anders felt frustrated, for the moment. Farad simply considered the situation and nodded to himself. Then closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts.

Holding the idea of the older man, clearly and cleanly. Feeling, instead of thinking about where he might be. Using the talents that the man had taught him, to find information. Then, suddenly, he pointed with his left hand, feeling almost pulled in a direction that would have taken him directly into a thick gray stone wall. He grinned, since he could put together the basic idea without learning to pass through solid stone. The direct line would take him to Prince Robart’s office.

He moved that way, merely to confirm that the older man, his master, was there. It wasn’t enough to do the magic, after all. He had to make certain he was doing it correctly, whenever possible. He moved into and out of a trance to do it, but that skill wasn’t new to him. It was how his memory tricks, the ones from his life as a keeper of time’s story, worked as well. Really, there was enough similarity between the two things, that learning to find information at a distance wasn’t really all that hard for him. Not that Master Tolan wasn’t still many times better at it than he was. That was down to practice, or in Anders case, the lack of it.

When he got to the correct door, there was no guard on it. That wasn’t impossible, but meant that he could simply go up and knock on it, as if he had a message. It wasn’t until he’d done it that he realized the Heir might not want to be bothered by him checking to see if he was correct or not. Still, when the blond man answered the door, he didn't frown or seem upset at all.

Rather, he simply nodded, rather firmly. As if the boy was expected.

“Anders, good. We’re working in here today. Come in.”

The man, who was large, being tall and muscular enough for a man who mainly sat for a living, moved out of the way, gesturing for the boy to enter, as if that made any real sense at all. True, it let him see that Master Tolan was, indeed, inside, which was all he needed from the moment.

Inside, he found other people as well. General Nesmith, who was dressed in gray, his face shaved smooth, leaving him seeming tidy and rather precise. Next to the man sat Prince Alpert, who blinked, then nodded, waving gently to the seat next to himself.

It was the General who spoke first, however.

“Well met, Master Brolly. I was just suggesting that we send you off to the front. That isn’t going over too well, as you might imagine.” The man smiled. It was genuine, as if he was simply describing the current situation, instead of mocking the young boy.

Anders could see that, given the suggestion had probably related to imagined thoughts of martial greatness on his part. His daily work with the guard showed him how much he needed to learn that way, before letting himself think he was a match for trained military men. Women as well, though there weren’t a lot of those in the Istlan forces. They mainly filled magical positions, though he had heard that some were also cooks and provided healing care. Yanse had some few female fighters, though.

Anders the boy still felt a bit mocked by the man. Farad however, merely smiled and moved to settle next to Prince Alpert. His father. That part wasn’t to be openly spoken of, of course. Not even there, in a secret chamber.

“I was actually just thinking the same thing, General Nesmith. I need to gain some contacts there, with the men in charge, so that I can better send and receive messages. Before the snows come, if at all possible. I have time, I think, if I ride out now. Are we to leave in the morning?” He wasn’t serious about the last portion of the words, but the General slapped his knee, laughing a bit.

Then his words seemed nearly proud, for some reason.

“Ha! I’d been jesting, but that’s truly not a bad thought. It’s come up that we’ve needed to pass such messages in the last days. Sending Captain Horner from place to place as we’ve been doing is beneath his position, and not nearly as efficient as we could be that way, from what I can tell of your current skills. How long will you need in each location to gain the knowledge you need?”

Everyone in the room was looking at him, suddenly. Most of them with strained expressions on their faces. Only Prince Robarts and the General seemed to be merely waiting to see what he had to say on the matter.

Anders tilted his head, thinking for a moment, and then nodded.

“I think, if they don’t mind being stared at over the evening meal, I can do it in three days, for each location. More if I need to come up with connections to more than one person in each place. That makes sense, really. Some corporals, perhaps, who can be both trusted and moved around at need, to pass messages from here?” It made sense to him, but that didn't mean the men in charge would want it that way.

It gave them a backup plan, in case a few people died, though.

The General nodded, as if he was taking the topic seriously.

“So, you’ll need a few weeks in each camp, if we have you go over, say four men in each location? That would have you back before the hard weather comes. The snow, at least. There will be hard rains, this time of the year in that part of Istlan. Winds as well.” Then, after a glance at Anders, the man made direct eye contact with Prince Robarts.

Who nodded, and then stood up, without any words passing between them.

“I’ll pass that by my father, right now. You’re ready to travel on short notice, Anders?”

He nodded. It was simply the truth.

“I have a pack in my room, with all the needed gear in it. Brownie and Chestnut are both in good health, as well, if I can have the lend of them again. I’ll need a map, so I know where to go. I can memorize it, with the needed locations.” He actually already had that, in his head.

The Heir to the throne simply nodded.

“Stand ready then. Know that most here don’t want to risk you, even in a thing like this. That doesn’t mean you may not be needed to undertake this journey. Possibly others, even if this one is rejected.” As he moved out, the General nodded at him.

Then, as if the others weren’t there, Nesmith went on.

“You know... It had been thought that you might be more reluctant to travel than this. We should have asked you a week ago. Longer, to be truthful. You’re the only one that can use your long talking magics, so far.” There was a glance at Master Tolan then, who tightened his face.

Anders shrugged, looking at the man.

“That isn’t fully true. Inside a week, maybe less, Master Tolan will have the skill down. It’s just a matter of committing the different portions of things to his mind. Depak Sona nearly has it as well. I think it might take him a bit longer to learn.” That forced him to shrug, even if that wasn’t a brilliant, or polite, thing to do with generals, castle wizards and princes in the room. He explained the reasoning there. “Depak Sona is grasping the magics well, but he’s having to learn it in a language that is not his own, so that’s slowing him down a bit. Still, no more than a week or two there.” Where the man was actually struggling a bit was in learning the other half of the equation.

The portion where the minds of the people at the other end had to be read, in order to gather their responses.

Master Tolan smiled then, seeming a bit reluctant to do so.

“I feel like a student again, being set to my paces. I’m not as confident that I will have this skill in that time as you seem to be, Master Brolly.”

That was a thing that Farad understood. Learning a new life skill was hard, past a certain age. Due largely to the fear of failure, instead of lack of ability to do so. It was a thing they couldn’t afford to allow, at the moment. Not from anyone on their side. Especially a capable man like Master Tolan.

“You can do it already and be understood. All that’s needed now are a few refinements. We should work on some other things before I leave. If I do. Really... If I can get some time, I should see about writing a text for that, in Istlan. It will take me a few days, but right now, with my schedule...”

The Prince shook his head then.

“That is a bit intense, isn’t it? Mother was talking about that at first meal, just the other day. She’s had no particular visions regarding you for a while, at least. To her mind that means you should be given a chance to relax for a while. I can’t disagree. Things have been dark for a time. First the battle of the lake, then that bit of dark work with Franken.” He went silent then, as if either Anders or Farad were going to have an issue with the topic of Master Franken.

It wasn’t pleasant to think about, since the man had murdered Estella. Sacrificing her, a good woman, to power a single spell. She had, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time, been important to the life of young Anders. The older serving woman had acted as his main caretaker, far too often for there not to be a sting when they considered it. Even Farad had liked the woman. In the two or three times they’d met, the woman had cared for him once, preventing his death with the water she brought to his lips, then later, tending to the rooms of the Modroc with him, when no one else was brave enough to face the supposedly fearsome people from the south.

Then Master Franken, the castle healer, had murdered her, using her life energy to power his escape into the night.

Anders, along with many others, had ridden out to find the man. Master Tolan had done so in his own person. So had Depak Sona and Eltha Tennent, one of the Modroc. Baron Kilroy had done so as well, being a friend of one of the woman’s sons. Rather than getting lost in thought, Anders simply nodded.

“I have so much to learn, however. Plus, I’ll probably be beaten if I have to go to the front, for taking the time away from my bow making and fletching work.” That wasn’t going to be happening, of course. The men training him there understood that orders were orders. They were guards, but the castle guard pulled from the military, most of the time. Each man had been in the army, proving themselves in battle before moving to protect the King directly.

The words came out as Prince Robarts cracked the door, his face set. It wasn’t a smile or a frown, but seemed nearly stern. There was a look then, at Prince Alpert.

“Father is sending Anders to the front, as we discussed. In a week, since there is a supply train with guards, already planning to move out at that time. You have that time, between now and then, to yourself. Father’s orders.”

Anders nodded, feeling a secret thrill, since it would be an adventure. He, the boy within, was wise enough to know that it would also be a hardship. He just didn't think of that as a negative like Farad did. Sleeping hard, on the ground, was a thing to be avoided, if possible. At least to the old historian. Anders didn’t care about that at all, even if it really wasn’t comfortable to him, either.

“I can work on that book then, Master Tolan. Really, I need to write a couple of them. Short ones, thankfully. I have time now.” He doubted he truly did, but Prince Robarts smiled at him.

“You’re writing tracts now? I didn't know that was a skill you possessed. I have many things that need to be committed to paper. Perhaps when you come back? Or, I know, I’ll send some along with you, for entertainment.” He grinned, as if it was a funny idea.

Which was true. Writing anything in the field was a chore. You pretty much had to bring your own table along, if you were going to do that at all. That got him to play along.

“Well, I do have a wagon. No horses trained to pull it, but I can take some supplies with me, if I need to have writing gear and a set up that way. It shouldn’t slow us down, if I’m traveling with the supply train anyway, correct?” He was playing, of course. Mainly because, while he did have that wagon, he didn’t know how to drive it.

Neither part of him did. Anders was young and Farad had lived almost his entire life in a cave complex, as what was essentially a monk.

Everyone there nodded along with his words, with the General seeming serious about it.

“Very good then. I’ll put the word out that you have some space open? Do you have coin to purchase those horses?”

He blinked, since he actually did, if they weren’t too expensive.

“I’ll need to take care that way, but I do. I’ll need a driver as well. How to find such a person, I don’t know.” He shrugged then. “Unless you have need of the Yansian coins, Master Tolan?” Gold and silver would spend well enough, regardless of where they were from. He had some, taken from the bodies of the dead. People he’d murdered at Sapphire Lake.

There had been over three hundred of them credited to his name. The fact was that he’d done more than that. He probably could have insisted on that fact at the time, and increased his part of the spoils, but the truth was that he didn’t particularly want to be known as a killer, if at all possible. Still, he had mail, plate armor, weapons, some coins and some jewelry from that event. Master Tolan had been keeping most of it in his room, using it to find links to the leaders, far away.

The man stroked his well lined, but shaved face.

“The coin, armor and weapons. I pulled some aside, that is of use in finding certain information. The jewelry is all significant. The poor don’t carry that kind of thing often and the wealthy tend to know others of that sort.” He seemed almost uneasy about that, as if the need to keep the valuables would seem like theft.

It didn’t. It made perfect sense to him, with his recent learning, that personal items would be of more use to them than common things like coin.

“I should pull some of the armor and see if I can alter it with magic. That works for clothing at least.” Not that mail would have helped him when lines of flame had been cast at him. Still, it could help protect him, from a knife or sword, if what he had was of good enough quality. Everything he owned was too big for him, however. Oddly enough, the people that had been sent against them had all been larger than a small child, for some reason.

Prince Robarts chuckled at the idea.

“Very good. We’ll come visit you in three days, to see what you manage that way. General, you can see to testing anything he comes up with for us? Now, you should go and do something that isn’t on your schedule. I’ll have the words passed to everyone that might need you. Who is that for the evening?”

Anders stood, getting that he was being sent off. Possibly for his own good, or at least to get him out of the way.

“Senna Grace, in the kitchen. Cooking lessons.” He didn't let his voice seem begrudging of the effort, since it had been ordered by the man himself.

Prince Robarts actually stared at him, for a moment.

“You kept on with the cooking? I’d honestly figured that finished when you left last summer. How are you doing at it? You know, never mind. I’ll send for your tutor there and ask her for a report. Go now, before we make up more for you to do. Recall, you travel in a week. Seven days. Be prepared for that.”

Anders nodded.

There was much to do, in that case. The relief from his schedule was nice, given he suddenly had to see to many other things. Anders, the boy, kind of wanted to play for a bit. To sit under a tree and simply rest. That didn't last long though. The boy, formerly lazy, smiled as they moved out into the hallway, moving away. Thinking of what they needed to get done. The work with the armor being the most important to him.

Of interest, the child had real ideas about how to get the work done. He’d need a magical word for steel and to understand the patterns for mail. He’d lived around it his whole life, but had never really taken the time to just look at it for long before. If he could learn the pattern and come up with a magical name for it, he should be able to repair or even make armor. He was also going to need to make a thick undershirt. Cloth armor made of linen. That, gambeson, was another thing he needed to examine and make some names up for. He was basically going to have to make his own, of course.

Both things were far too expensive to purchase. Even not being good with coin, the boy knew that much about the topic.

The interesting point was that Anders wanted to actually go and do the work on that, right away. It wasn’t a horrible idea, though he smiled. Farad nodded as he walked, muttering to himself.

“After the late meal, of course.”

Anders was fine with that, since the boy did enjoy eating, most of the time. They were working hard enough, mainly on magic with a healthy dose of spear and bow, along with knife training, that he was hungry most of the time. He hadn’t lost any weight, but only because people had started to push food on him, as often as not.

He was already tidy enough, so he took a moment to change his clothing for the meal. It was only going to be in the low hall, which was where he ate, most of the time. That didn't mean the practice of altering his outfit wasn’t a good idea. Especially if he needed to work out how to make cloth armor.

“Clotha re barto idi, geth neg ot neg, fen.” As he moved, his tunic changed in color, though not cut or material, still seeming like heavy canvas at the moment. That was into festive looking stripes of red and indigo.

Then, with a bit more work, the top was turned into silk. It seemed like it, anyway. In both feeling and how it laid on his body. The weight stayed the same, making it thick for that particular fabric. That was fine, since it was a bit cool, inside the castle that evening.

When he got into the dining room, he simply collected his own food, from the board on the side. If he’d simply settled at a table, someone would have come by and served him, but that idea still left him feeling uneasy. His entire life had been spent with him eating in the same room though. At least his life as Anders had. It simply made sense to him to get his own food taken care of each day. It always had.

Farad made the selection for him, picking out a nice pile of varied meats, some tubers and a pile of bitters and greens, along with some thick brown bread. The near black kind, that most there didn't love so much. Rye. It was tasty enough. Even Anders agreed with that, now that he was more used to it. Word was that the high hall was fed on soft white wheat for three meals a day. That was silly, of course. The King didn't take his morning meal in the high hall at all, so there was no need to spend the funds on such things.

Still, it was possible that was the case. That the highest had better things than the low, or he supposed, those near the middle, simply made sense. It was the way of the world and always had been, as far as Farad could tell.

He sat at an empty table, only to be surprised when Sir Humphrey came in not three minutes later, grabbed his own plate and then settled across from him. The large man had a stout mustache, his hair brown with good amounts of red worked in. That was kept short and tidy. It had been longer, even a month before, but after it was clear that war was coming, that had changed, almost instantly.

The man nodded at him.

“Master Brolly.”

“Sir Humphrey. Well met.”

The other man ate in the low hall a few times per week. Mainly to secure information that wasn’t available in the higher places. At least that was what he always claimed. He was of enough stature and rank to sit at the highest table there, meaning that the man had meant to shift to be near him, for some reason. After all, Anders was a boy and whatever rank, if any, he had there was unknown to him. Literally.

Even Anders had never, in his entire life, been told what that was supposed to be. The bastard of the Prince, though that didn’t confer much power, if any. It shouldn’t have even gotten him into the low hall, to be honest. That he hadn’t simply been fed with the servants seemed odd, given that.

The knight, the leader of the heavy horse in fact, nodded in his direction, then took a bite of bread, using his hands for it. Anders was carefully using a knife and fork for the same task, given that Master Belford could show up behind him at any time. The man took his own meals there after all. There had been no threats to beat him if he didn’t get every bite right at each meal, but the man would hit him with a stick, if he thought it would help him learn faster.

That had never happened at a meal, but the man himself sat alongside him, appearing almost as if summoned by magic. It left Anders glad of the care he was taking in his manners, to be certain.

“Sir Humphrey, Anders. I hear that you’re both traveling to the front, in the coming week?”

It was an amazing thing to know, given that Anders had just come from being told about that himself. Sir Humphrey blinked though, then looked at the boy across from him.

“With the supply train? There’s rumor of bandits in the area, along the route. They hit the last train out, so we’re increasing the guard on this one. Robbery by stealth, but we still lost too much to them. I didn’t know that we were getting magical assistance that way. Good. Probably not really needed, but boys shouldn’t be kept inside too much.” There was a nod then, as if that was the simple truth.

That Anders was going to provide some form of magical assistance. Which wasn’t totally wrong.

Master Belford smiled then, his face not moving, past his lips. It was sad seeming. Angry. Not that the man didn’t have a right to feel that way. He was still in mourning for his mother, after all.

“He also has the regional language in the area you plan to travel to. Not perfectly, but well enough to act as an interpreter. My understanding is that the goal is to set up magical communications in the area, with the main forces there?” It was a question.

Also, not wrong.

Anders shrugged, even if it had been spoken of out loud. They were in public and there were spies all around them. For that matter, there were two such beings at the table with him. True, ones he suspected were on his side and that of the King, but he didn’t know that for certain.

“I’m just going to meet with some people there. To make the connection. If I can get horses for it, I plan to take the wagon I own as well.” He shrugged, going on when neither man spoke. “I was also thinking that I’d try to learn to make armor, with magic. I might afford some horses, but even a gambeson and mail that fit...”

The words got a snort, a laugh of sorts, from the sturdy and powerful knight across from him.

“Truly. Learn to make even that well and quickly and you’ll be a rather wealthy man, Master Brolly. Indeed, I should aid you in this now, so that you’ll be in kind regard of me later, when I come begging for magical work to be done on my own armor. What do you need for that, do you think?” The man was clearly jesting, but his words didn’t seem unkind.

“I have some mail, captured in battle, so it needs to be repaired. I don’t even know what a gambeson looks like, close up. I need good examples of both to work from.” It was true, though he didn't know how to actually get his hands on anything like that.

Instead of going mean or seeming annoyed, Sir Humphrey simply nodded.

“I have some examples of that you can examine, of course. I’ll have that delivered to your room, after the meal?”

Anders blinked a few times then, and nodded.

“Thank you for the consideration, Sir Humphries. I don’t know if I can do this, learn to manipulate armor, with any kind of skill or speed. It seems like it should be possible. I’ve worked in cloth, often, but have only done a few things with metal. Enough to know that it’s much harder to do than working in softer materials. Not impossible, though.”

He’d learned to sharpen blades that way, but had never even tried to do much more than that. That wasn’t really hard to do, but there was a strange resistance to the activity. A thing that he’d assumed was due to it being hard to manage.

Anders ate for a while, being half starved as he was. While he did that, others came to sit with them. One of those people was his mother. She did not look best pleased. On the good side she wasn’t glaring at him. Or anyone else there. Lady Martya moved in alongside her, not seeming upset for her own portion, but from her glances, she was concerned for her friend. At least that was what Anders was reading into the situation.

Master Belford gave her a questioning look then. She answered, without a word being spoken at all.

“My father is coming to see the King. I guess that there’s a small problem with the disposition of the Brolly forces. As a barony, we have to field one hundred men at arms, ten knights and three hundred long bow. I don’t know more than that. I had a letter come, earlier, but the specific lack wasn’t expressed. I was asked to ready the way for him. As if I have the ear of the King on a daily basis?” She picked at her own plate for a second. Given that she normally waited to be served that was significant. After a while, she went on, glancing up at Master Belford, carefully not looking at her son at all.

As if that wasn’t going to be noticed.

Then, everyone at the table pretended not to get the idea well enough. Even Anders didn’t ask about the matter. The man was a person who had never been mentioned in his presence before. Now he was brought up as if the man was just a person that could come for a visit at any time.

That didn’t make sense to him. To either part. The old man inside was as baffled as the boy, in this case. It was, no doubt, a thing he needed to understand. The man was an unknown, and his own mother had made certain of that. Now she was bringing the topic up in a public space, with him right there. Knowing that he would be forced to ask about the man.

Instead, he pretended that he knew all about the fellow. A thing that wasn’t only not true, but that had to seem odd to the others.

“Oh? When will he be here?”

His mother looked at him then, her face hard.

“Inside the month. He plans to stay for some time, as well. A full month past that, unless things go poorly with the King.”

Anders nodded then, not bothering to act hurt by the matter. He wasn’t, so that wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’ll be gone then.”

Lyse stared at him for a moment, her blonde hair and perfect makeup making her seem slightly unreal, for some reason. A thing that came from Farad, since Anders didn’t really know her in any other way.

“That... Might be for the best. After disowning you as he did, I could see you taking offense at his presence. He didn’t even mention you in the letter he sent. As if you might not be here. Maybe we should present you to him anyway? Force him to see how wrong he was to disavow you as a child?” She looked slightly upset again. As if she wasn’t at all certain it was the best plan.

Anders waved the idea away, even if part of him felt shocked at the news of being disowned. That implied that he’d been part of the family at some point, which Anders hadn’t known about in any way. He didn’t let himself feel angry over the idea. To him, now that the words were spoken, he could see that something like that had to have taken place.

Sending a letter to his mother was interesting, however. It implied that she hadn’t been cast aside for her indiscretion, only he, the inconvenient offspring of that action was to be punished for it.

He smiled and shook his head a bit.

“I’m off to the front, for some weeks. To meet some people there.”

Lady Martya nodded at the words.

“For your communications magics? That’s all the talk in the closed rooms of late. Apparently, your efforts have already made a difference, there, on the front. The Queen herself mentioned it to myself and Countess Rainly the other day. The King is most impressed with you, if I have it correctly.”

Sir Humphrey nodded then, standing, his food only half eaten.

“Forgive me, but I need to see to some small matters. I’ll have that armor sent over directly, Master Brolly.” He nodded, instead of bowing and left at a good pace.

No one commented on it. Then, at times, nature could call, or illness might strike. Both were rude to suggest at the table. Anders could have searched the man himself for the information, but it felt wrong, at the moment.

Invasive. Not that he’d let that stop him if work required it of him. He wasn’t a spy though, so whatever the issue was, if he wasn’t informed of it, then it wasn’t his business. To that end, he turned back to his food, not speaking again, though he did nod toward Lady Martya.

She smiled back, being a generally pleasant sort.

The woman was well presented and even attractive, though he knew her mainly as a friend of his mother. That he didn't know more about her seemed off. He didn't ask after the information, in case he wasn’t supposed to know for some reason. A big portion of the issue was that, until very recently, Anders hadn’t really been around people from the high court. He ate with some of them in the low hall from time to time, but they didn't, or hadn’t, sat near him or spoken to him in particular.

Now, as he was doing a bit more in the world, that had changed.

He nodded then, at Master Belford.

“Oh... I was given the next week off from lessons. I figured that I’d use that time to write a book or two.” He was mainly informing his mother of what was going on, but Lady Martya smiled grandly at him.

“That’s special then! What are you going to pen? A fiction about the castle?”

He’d never even thought of such a thing, even though he was aware of the idea of books written for entertainment. He even had some memorized, since it had been part of the history of the world that he’d once devoted his life to. That he’d write such a thing was an odd thought, though.

Rather than seem offended, he simply figured that Lady Martya was mentioning that which made the most sense for her own life.

“Really, I was going to write up some small things about magic. Just the bits that I know something of, of course. Hardly the work of a master, but I can use them for reference, later.”

Everyone nodded at that, except Martya who rolled her eyes.

“Hmph. That sounds a bit boring then. Here I’d figured that you were going to pen a love story about you and Eltha Tennet... She’s rather fond of you, isn’t she?”

Rather than ride to the bait, he simply nodded. She’d made some effort to teach him illusion, after all. It wasn’t a thing that he could spend much time on yet, but she’d given him hints toward that kind of thing, almost every morning as he worked to clean her room.

Of late that had turned into him mainly speaking to her, the main portion of the real work being done the night before by the real servants. That could seem friendly, after all.

He merely smiled and looked away, as if her being eight years older than he was wouldn’t be enough to stop anything like had been mentioned from happening. At least if he didn't want to insult the woman, which he didn’t want to do. It was teasing, but also a trap.

After all, if he protested Martya’s words too firmly, it could be an insult to Eltha. On the other hand, if he said that she was a friend, or really anything positive, that could be taken the wrong way as well. So, rather than do either of that, he merely tried to seem like he was being secretive. That could mean anything.

“You enjoy such stories, Lady Martya?”

That question started a conversation about books and reading. A thing that, interestingly enough, most of the people at the table enjoyed. Even Lyse did, though Anders had never seen her read much of anything in his entire life. Then, it was clear that much of his mother’s life was private. At least from him. Apparently, much of his own life was as well, again, private from Anders. No one else there actually indicated that the idea that Anders had been disowned by his family was new information or surprising in any way.

The boy inside rankled at the thought, feeling angry over it. For about five minutes. Then he relaxed and let it go. It made no difference to his life, after all. As far as he knew, the only thing that being placed in such a category meant was that he didn’t have to run off to serve in the Brolly forces, if they were having a shortage of bowmen that year. It wasn’t as if he knew the people who were rejecting him.

Who had done so, while he was still very young. Probably a baby.

Rather than sulk, he simply ate, then, feeling a bit greedy, went back for more food. This time, for once, Master Belford simply nodded at him.

“I was speaking on that topic with Duma Sett, just the other day. She’s worried that you aren’t eating enough for the work level you’re producing in magic. I don’t know how much energy it takes to fly around like you were doing in your efforts today, but have to imagine you’ve earned the extra tubers.” He didn’t smile about it, seeming dark and dour.

Lyse looked at him then, sharply.

“Flying?”

He nodded, not speaking due to the bite of root vegetable in his mouth. After that was taken care of, he spoke.

“Floating, really. Depak Sona tossed me into the air a way, to make certain I was paying attention. It was interesting, but hard. Enough so that I don’t think I’ll make flying my new mode of transportation. It’s at least as hard as running full out.”

That got a nod from the man. His black hair was greasy looking. Probably from some kind of hair treatment or potion, since the fellow was always clean and tidy. His clothing was in all black, being the same outfit that he’d had on for nearly a month. That wasn’t dirty, but could use a cleaning, no doubt. Mourning clothes, worn for his mother.

The man wouldn’t have ten black outfits, so trading things out would be more difficult than it seemed, at first. Anders didn’t mention it, even though it made sense for him to see to his tutor’s care, if he had time for it. Which, thanks to Prince Robarts, he did, now.

To that end, he nodded at the man, catching his eye.

“Might I have a few moments, Master Belford? Later, after we eat, of course. It’s nothing pressing.”

The man, rather coldly, nodded. What he thought Anders was going to say to him, he didn’t know at all. Nothing that good, from his expression. Then, it was hard to lose those you loved. Farad had done that in his old life. Really, he’d lost all of his family and most of the other historians he’d lived with for his entire life, before he’d passed on in his own turn.

Only Ganges and a handful of friends had been left when it was his time. Truly, Master Belford was managing well, given the nature of what had happened to his mother. Estella.

Thinking of her lit a rage inside of Anders.

A desire to punish someone for her death. The problem there was that Master Franken was already dead. Taken by a spell. One set by Ganges, who was in a far-off land, too well protected for a mere boy to reach or punish for having set his man into action in the first place.

Farad had to school his face, to prevent anything from being seen. Even if his pain was real, it wasn’t his place to allow emotion to rule him on that topic.

After he finished eating, a thing done in silence, on his part, the other man rose with him. They both bowed to those at the table, using first courtly, even though Lyse was his mother. No one objected to the move, even though it was the wrong one there. It wasn’t until they were in the hallway, walking at a sedate pace, that Master Belford spoke. The man didn’t mince words, either.

He did speak with a hushed tone.

“You wish to arrange for Baron Brolly to meet with an accident? Or... Do you plan to remove him yourself? I can’t claim that I don’t understand. It is one thing for a King to insist that one not be in line for the throne. Even a Baron might do that, to ensure the blood of his line. To disown you like that was rather low, however. Even if he had to eat shame over the matter, he should have done so, and held his head high.”

Anders blinked then. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Truly, no. I was only going to see if you’d permit me to see to your clothing. I can change the color and cut of them. It occurred to me that I should see to that for you. That’s all. As for the other thing... Well, I didn’t know about that matter until the meal back there. It doesn’t honestly change anything, does it? My life is as it has been, in that regard. Knowing about it only makes me wiser.” He felt like he was floundering a bit, or perhaps that he should be filled with rage over the matter.

Master Belford, for the first time in over a month, as far as Anders knew, laughed.

“Ah! That’s much better, then. I know that Sir Humphry was worried there. That’s why he ran off, I’ll wager. To send warning to Baron Brolly that he needs to go carefully, where you are concerned.”

Anders didn’t really see why that would be needed. Even though he knew it, at the same time. He was a boy, but also a war veteran. Battle hardened and cold in killing. That wasn’t the whole of the matter, but it was close enough. Not that he’d kill a man for simply making a mistake, years before.

He shook his head, slowly. They were moving along, but not running into the night. After a moment, he spoke again.

“Part of me does wonder at why it was never mentioned to me before. It’s... Well, not a good thing, but...”

Master Belford looked at the right-hand side of the hallway then. The gray stone was bland through the area they were walking through. Cool looking, and strong, instead of attractive.

“I think that Lyse was ashamed of the action. It’s common for a bastard to be ignored or not directly claimed as an heir, of course. Disowning you, claiming that you aren’t Lyse’s son at all, is insanely provocative. I think that he was attempting to press King Mathias into attacking, at the time. A situation which would have led only to the death of hundreds, without real resolution in the matter at all.”

Anders simply walked then, heading to the man’s door.

“Now, this shouldn’t take too long. We’ll clean everything and then make it black.”

The room was less than tidy. A thing that caused the master to frown, then look at Anders.

“Forgive the state here. In my grief...” It wasn’t much of an explanation.

Anders understood anyway. He saw to the clothing first, then, using magic, did the rest of the room. After all, the man was in pain. Anything he could do to relieve some of that was worthy of doing. They didn’t speak after that, other than some pleasantries. Anders’ room was only one door down, which meant that his lack of concern for the other man was less than impressive on his part.

Plus, even if it wasn’t a matter of common discussion, the fellow was his uncle. It was that, he had to think, that had caused the man to teach Anders anything much at all. His ways were harsh, or had been. Even in his pain and grief, the man had made certain to give him daily lessons, after Estella had been killed.

In his room one door down, sitting on his work table, was what he assumed was a very nice example of riveted mail. Next to it was a blue colored gambeson. The thick padded cloth armor was the thing he examined first. The stitching on it was carefully done and it had, when he counted, using magic for the task of examination, thirty layers of strong linen. There was a quilted quality to it, which took him a while to understand fully.

Once he did, after several hours of simply focusing, holding and learning what the armor was like, he settled into his bed, ready for sleep. He didn’t do that, of course. Instead he created a new word for cloth armor. That meant linking the concept of what he wanted into a single phrase. It was only part of the needed spell, but it was a good enough start to the whole thing.

He’d need to get some real linen, of course, to start with. At least some kind of thick cloth that would be as strong. As far as he knew, it was impossible to make something from nothing. Even in the old texts that he had memorized that was never mentioned as being something that could be done.

Thinking about that, he drifted off to sleep.

Even if dreams of people rejecting him kept trying to intrude on his otherwise peaceful slumber.

Chapter two

Anders got up as the sun first made the sky lighten. That had become his habit, over the last months and would, he didn’t doubt, serve him well once he was on the road again. At least the last times he’d traveled, first light hadn’t meant the ability to see your hand in front of your face as much as the ability to tell which direction the sky was in.

So he rolled out of his lumpy, hay filled bed and stood up on the cold stone floor. He didn’t have a rug in his room, since it wasn’t the kind of thing that children were given. Plus, Anders had never considered the idea before. The stones were cool, but his feet were bare. That wouldn’t take place in the winter. He hadn't even bothered with a fire in the hearth of his room yet. Instead he simply washed quickly, making himself do a good job and emptied his chamber pot, since it had been used in the night.

After that, he combed his hair, which was down to his shoulders in the back, and realized that he needed to cut that, before riding off to the front. Lonely soldiers might get confused, if he looked too girly. It was a thing that neither portion of him knew of first hand, but that Farad had read about in certain texts. Most from long ago. It had been hinted at, the last time he’d ridden out, so was apparently still a thing to be wary of.

There was no real need to hurry, in particular, since he was awake in good time to make his morning rounds. There was no clock in his room, not even an hourglass, but waiting until true daylight was the custom he’d established with Depak Sona and the Modroc ambassadorial staff. It was hardly needed for him to go and visit with all of them any longer, he knew.

That was a good thing. It was still his habit to check on the situation each day though and until that very day, he hadn’t had much free time at any other point to see to the duty.

Having an extra few moments, he settled at his table, his one hard chair not making any noise as he did it, thinking of what he planned to do that day. The first thing, after seeing to his morning visitation and chamber pot emptying duties, would be finding cloth to make armor out of. Then, if he could manage that at all, he needed to work out how to alter and possibly even make ring mail.

He owned some, but he truly didn't know if it was the good kind of not. Taking a moment, he started to examine the gambeson again, going over the new word and sigil for that in his mind, walking the hallways of memory, to make certain the new idea was truly driven home. He was deep enough into that thought that the gentle knocking on his door went almost unnoticed.

Shaking his head, gently, he tried to come out of the trance he’d been working in as he stumbled over to the door. A second knock came just as he opened the thing. Half of him, as odd as the idea seemed, expected to find the Queen on the other side. That had, after all, happened before. This time, the face on the other side was a different one than he would have expected at all.

Really, while he vaguely recognized the woman, he’d never spoken to her before in his life.

“Princess Peri?” He bowed, using first courtly, making certain to do it correctly, since the visit was probably official. Looking concerned, the woman gave him a hurried curtsey.

“Master Brolly... I... Mathia has taken ill. The red fever. Master Franken aided you, but no one knows how. That or they refuse to speak about it. Will you aid me? Can you at all? You were with fever at the time, so I understand that you may not know what was done.”

He blinked, nearly shaking his head. He knew how that had happened, but placing the crystal of memory that contained Farad Ibn Istel against her head would be a far from good thing to do to a young lady. It was bad enough for poor Anders and they were both men.

Still, he had saved Anders. Mainly by entering a trance state, and then reducing the swelling in the boy’s head. He didn’t know if he could do the same thing, from a distance, but he’d learned some magic since then. Really, he was going to need some new words, in order to act on the young lady, but he nodded.

“I can help, I think. I’ll need some hours to prepare myself and to consult with Depak Sona, to make certain I’m not being foolish in my thoughts. How bad is she doing?” People didn’t die of the red fever in hours. It generally took a week or more, after the first symptoms displayed themselves.

“You can help? You will? Thank you! I wasn’t certain, after my husband worked to send you away as he did, not just a day ago.” Her face went tight then, as if she thought of the journey to come as a great wrong against him.

Anders smiled at her, if only a little.

“That’s simply a visit. Unless I get stuck there due to the weather. Then I’ll be annoyed, but Prince Robarts was merely backing me in what I requested, to see to some minor work I have, so I don’t think I need to blame him for that... I’ll try to be ready inside two hours. It might take longer than that. I’m going to need a new spell.” Really, that wouldn’t be too complex. He just needed some new names for things.

Bowing again, he waited. Half of him wanted to run, but even Depak Sona would just be getting out of his bed then.

“I’ll be in with Ambassador Depak. That or sitting in front of his door in the ambassador’s hallway. We don’t have much time to lose. Can you find me there?” After all, he didn’t have a single clue where someone like Princess Mathia would be housed in the normal course of things. Nor should he.

There was another, rather hurried bending of the knees under her pink dress. That was of some form of fine material that shone a bit, but which wasn’t silk. It was heavier than that. Refined, of course, regardless of what it was. The woman was pretty enough that he moved to the doorway, almost instantly. After all, a closed door might be either a sign of plotting, or of him doing something improper, or at least attempting too, with the lady. Given that she’d come to him, that might even be taken as the other way around.

Moving into the hallway worked to have her follow him, so he reached back, around her and closed the door. That move got him hugged. Thankfully, no one was there to see it. He didn’t do it back, though he nodded.

“I must hurry. Two hours.” He just had to make things work in that time frame. Somehow. He tried to work while walking, not speaking to the woman again. He didn't run, really. There was a bit more haste to his step than was normal. Enough that the guard on the ambassador’s hall waved at him.

“Emergency?”

He started to shake his head, then nodded.

“Princess Mathia has fallen ill. I need to consult with Depak Sona about magical matters.”

The man went wide eyed, then nodded.

“Understood. Go!”

He ran then, though not far. It was tempting to pound on the magician’s door, but that would wake the whole hallway. Instead he tapped, wondering if the fellow would even be awake yet. To his surprise, he opened the door almost instantly. Inside the room there were other people, which nearly got him to pull back. He tightened his lips, though.

“Forgive the intrusion. Princess Mathia has fallen to the red fever. I think I can aid her, but I want to make certain I’m not overreaching magically.” He bowed then, since that was needed with the other man. Not for him, but for those watching.

Princess Aisla moved forward, her eyes nearly as wide as the hall guard’s had gone.

“Anders? What do you have in mind for her?”

He nearly didn’t say, but then nodded a bit, since the truth was that she was trained in magic as well. The same type he was learning.

“The danger of the red fever is in the swelling of the part of the brain near the skull. I can reduce this in myself, already, so understand what is needed, but I need to place that onto her. It should be safe enough, since doing too much of it can’t happen. It won’t be harmful. Or am I missing something?” He glanced at the woman, not seeing who was behind her at all.

Depak looked at him then, slowly, nodded.

“That could work. You’ll need to reduce her fever as well, at the same time. Without making her too cool. Do you have the needed phrasings for this?”

He didn’t, of course. Really, he needed to work up two new words for that. One for swelling being reduced and one for fever, in the same way.

“No. On the good side, I know both of the things I’ll need, rather well. Three things, since the lungs need to be freed as well. The swelling of the brain and fever first. She’ll live with raspy lungs for a few hours, while I learn that as well. May I work here? Princess Peri is to meet me here in two hours.”

Depak pulled him into the space, a thing done with no courtesy at all. Inside the room, he was distracted for a moment, since Prince Alpert and his own mother were there. Visiting, very early in the day.

That was a bit odd. Though it could be a matter to do with the message that Depak had gotten from the Sula. Darian.

The Prince was sitting at the table, and stood.

“Poor Mathia. You think you can help her? When you laid dying no one could do much other than give you water and place a cool cloth on your brow. I went to my knees to beg Master Franken to do what he could, whatever it took, to save you.”

Anders looked at the room and realized that only Aisla might not know the whole of the story. That wasn’t likely, either, but he nodded in her direction and spoke openly.

“Which worked, since the crystal held the mind, a copy, of Farad Ibn Istel. Who is bound with me now, inside. On the good side, he recalls what almost dying of the red fever felt like and what to do about it. I need to trap that into a word for a magical spell. One for fever as well...” He shook his head. “I need to hurry. I can do this, inside two hours. I have before.”

Depak Sona led him to the other room, where the bed was, and gestured for him to sit. Anders dropped to the ground, cross legged.

From the doorway, Princess Aisla spoke.

“Two new magical elements in an hour for each? That isn’t possible. That could take months.”

Anders closed his eyes, dropping into his learning trance again. The mind was more than capable of learning far faster than most allowed for. It simply took having the right skills and understanding of how such things worked. Things that he’d spent a whole lifetime working with.

The outer world vanished then, as he recalled the feeling he needed. Then he paired it with a glowing golden sigil in his mind and a feeling. One of swelling reducing, leaving whatever had been affected in its original state.

As soon as he had it well enough, he moved to the new word for fever. The same work had to be done, but he took care to leave the ending portion of the idea just a bit warmer than was normal. That way he shouldn’t freeze anyone by mistake.

After that, he drilled with both words, over and again, until a hand shook his right shoulder. Opening his eyes, he noticed that it was his mother. She looked slightly concerned, for some reason. Probably over Princess Mathia, rather than her boy suddenly acting as if he might be able to heal illness. That wasn’t the case. He was merely treating parts of it. They could come back, and would need to be taken care of a second, or third time, in that case. This would just leave the girl feeling more comfortable and prevent death from finding her for those reasons.

He smiled and stood up. He could hear Princes Peri in the other room.

“Anders... Is this safe? You might be harmed, doing this...”

This time he got to shake his head, and didn’t even have to lie to her, in order to pretend that what he was doing wasn’t dangerous at all. It simply wasn’t, this time.

“I can’t even catch the red fever again, having recovered from it myself once. This should be safe. The worst that happens is little to nothing. I don’t think even that will be the case. I should go. You can fill me in on why everyone was meeting here this early?” He nearly added an or not to it, since the woman clearly didn’t seem to think he needed to know all that much about the world around him. That or she really wanted him to figure it out for himself.

She patted his shoulder, moving out of the way.

“That can wait, for later. You should go now and see to Princess Mathia. I know a mother’s worry for her child.”

That was a real enough thing, given that Princess Peri grabbed him again, this time in front of everyone else. No one so much as batted an eyelash over the move.

“Can you be of aid? I know that you said that, but...”

At that, half the people there looked away. Depak Sona did, seeming to think that his room servant was being maligned. His lips actually went hard over it. Princess Aisla shrugged, her blue and green gown moving, her sturdy frame making a powerful impression.

“We’ll have to see. The plan itself is sound enough. I just can’t credit the idea of anyone learning new magics that quickly. The worst that comes of this is nothing, so we should be off to see to it.”

Anders snorted then, though he smiled as he did it, trying not to make the woman upset with him. She was a Princess, after all.

“I have this. Only people immune to the red fever should be with Princess Mathia right now. Do you clear that way, Princess Aisla?” He honestly didn’t know if she would or not. When he looked around, different people were doing varied things. Most of them shaking their heads, indicating that they, at least weren’t covered that way.

Oddly, the Barquea born woman nodded.

“I contracted it when I first arrived here, some years ago. I shouldn’t risk it now though, with a baby on the way.” She didn’t grab at her middle, but everyone else in the room, other than Prince Alpert, seemed shocked by the news.

Anders, led by the old historian inside of himself, merely bowed. Using first courtly.

“That’s wonderful news! I agree, however. Whoever is watching her can stand guard?” They needed a woman to be there, to make certain he didn't abuse the Princess, after all. Not that he was planning that kind of thing. It was still a matter that had to be seen to.

Princess Peri nodded, waving at the door. The move was hurried and seemed demanding, though she didn’t yell for him to hurry. He did anyway. They were the only two heading out, it seemed. The rest understanding that waiting there would, no doubt, be a better plan than in the hallway outside where the work was being done that day.

As they moved, scurrying in a rather rushed fashion, Peri spoke. She was only lightly out of breath due to the exertion.

“Mistress Colm is in with her. The new herb woman of the castle. She’s as close as we have to a real healer here, since Master Franken... The monster.” Her face tightened at the mention of the name. Then, so did Anders.

He nodded, following the woman with him, not knowing where they were going. It was to a strange hallway, well outside of any space he’d ever been allowed into before. The royal one, no doubt. They might have more than one, even. The castle was a grand thing, if the works inside his mind were correct on the idea. Back in Farad’s day, such things had been much smaller. At least that was what was referenced in the ancient texts.

When they got to the correct door, Princess Peri tapped on it gently. The woman that came to answer it, Mistress Colm, he presumed, was a bit different than he would have guessed. She had brown hair, and an affable face that, while not as lovely as the woman next to her, was still rather pleasant to look at. Her nose was a trifle strong across the center, but not unattractively so. Her face was schooled, toward blankness, rather than a frown.

“Princess. There is no change. She sleeps, but fitfully. She barely takes the water or elixir that I can give her for her breathing.” She glanced down, a bit, into Anders’ eyes. The woman was no more than a few inches taller than he was. She took in his bright clothing, which looked like rich silk. “Forgive me, my lord.”

She didn’t say why he needed to do that at all. Farad got the idea first, that the woman wanted to know why some little boy was there, suddenly. It normally wouldn’t make sense.

“I’m immune to the red fever, having recently defeated it. I learned to control portions of it at the time, and have learned some small bit of magic since, so I can, possibly, share this with Princess Mathia. If not, well, then the attempt it will be harmless. We lose nothing in trying it.” At least he hoped that was the case. If he killed the girl then he’d need to simply fling himself off the eastern tower, inside the hour. Not out of fear of reprisal, only over the failure of it.

Hopefully, that wouldn’t be needed.

Rather than call him a liar or even roll her eyes, the herb woman simply moved to let him inside the room. That was much nicer than what he had. Then, he wasn’t a Princess. The bed looked nice, being made of wood, with curtains all around it. Those were of heavy material, the sturdy kind, but dyed in festive colors. Mainly blues and greens. There was a small stool by the bedside and a bowl of water, with a damp white cloth in it. Also, some small bottles on the low table next to it.

The room smelled of perfume, but also sweat and urine. Apparently sick Princesses smelled like everyone else did when ill. Anders didn’t wait, simply waving for Mistress Colm to come with him.

“I’ll have to touch her, at first. Just on the head and only lightly.”

That got a nod, as if it made some kind of sense.

“Sowln- ere ot neg- fen ot ban.” He touched the girl, who had the normal red rash across her face, which was normally prettier than it looked at the moment. She was damp with sweat and warm enough that she had to be miserable, just from that. Carefully, he indicated where he wanted the swelling to go down, knowing that it was inside the skull that needed to be affected.

Then he sat back, and started again.

“Ferven- ere ot neg- fen ot ban.” This time he held his hand over her head, then waved it to just under her feet. There was no need to touch her for the spell, since she needed her whole form cooled.

Then he stood, but waited for a few seconds, since the Princess opened her eyes. She coughed, sounding raspy and wet inside the lungs, but managed a smile.

“Hello. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Mistress Colm moved in and touched the girl, who was at least three years older than Anders was, on the forehead.

“Amazing. Your mother seems to have contracted a proper healer for you. He used magic to fix your fever.”

Anders snorted a bit.

“Proper healer? I doubt that, it just being me. It does seem to have worked though, even with that impediment in the way. How is your head feeling?”

She wrinkled her brow then and touched it. A bit gingerly, at first.

“Not too bad, any longer. A bit of pain, across the sides, near the front. It felt like it was being crushed before, so it’s much better. I’m well now?”

Anders smiled at her and then shook his head.

“Not at all. You’re still with the sickness and can spread it. Also, you need to drink a potion for your breathing. I might be able to aid with that as well, but it will take some hours to work that spell up. You can’t leave your room for at least a week. Your fever and the swelling of your brain will stay away that long, but I’ll check in on you a few times. Later today and then at need, if you have one. You should rest and drink as much water as you can. Fast from food, as well.” If she was feeling anything like he had with the fever, that would be required of her, regardless.

The girl coughed again, which sounded miserable, but she managed a smile for him.

“Thank you, Master Brolly. I should...” She tried to get up then, as if that made any sense at all.

Anders waved her down.

“You should rest, if you can. Regardless, stay in your rooms for at least a week. Even if you feel better. That’s the magic, not you actually being well. Still, if you have to be sick, doing it without feeling like, well, you were a few moments ago, is the better way to do it.” He smiled again, then moved toward the door of the room. Mistress Colm did it with him, after whispering to Mathia for a few moments.

Princess Peri was still in the hallway.

“You couldn’t aid her?” She seemed concerned about that, but stopped speaking when Mistress Colm curtsied at her.

“Master... Brollen, was it?”

Peri corrected her, almost instantly.

“Master Anders Brolly.”

The herb woman nodded.

“Yes, that’s it. Master Brolly here muttered a few words, waved his hands a little and took her fever and the thickness in her head away. Perfectly, as far as I can determine. She still needs to rest and I was told she’s still actually ill, so can make others sick as well, correct, Master Healer?”

He simply nodded, not correcting his title. He was, it seemed, on healing for the moment, so it was merely a polite way to address him, not a way to suggest he was more than he truly was.

“That’s right. I’ll be back later to help with her breathing and make sure everything is holding correctly. It should, for the next week. By then she should be much better and not spreading things any longer. I can meet you later, to walk me back in, Princess Peri?” When the words were out he realized that he’d probably misspoken.

Even to him it sounded as if he were setting a meeting up with the woman for some reason. Probably an inappropriate one, given who he was.

She merely smiled at him and nodded.

“That would be fine. Now, what would you like, for your payment?” She seemed cheery about the idea, instead of acting as if it were a major hardship or trial for her.

He nearly said nothing, but then realized that the woman was a Princess. One day she’d be queen, even. It wouldn’t do to either insult her or leave a debt hanging between them.

“You know, I could use some linen. The heavy kind, used for armor? I need to make some and I think I can use magic for it, but I can’t create cloth from nothing. The sewing, changing the color and all that will be easy enough. At least if I do it correctly. That’s everything though, isn’t it?” Most things truly did require you to do them right, if they were to be accomplished at all.

Instead of frowning or acting as if gold were the only thing of value in the world, she clapped her hands. It was a happy seeming thing.

“A bargain then, given you saved my daughter’s life like you did. I can send that to your room. Do you need anything else?” She looked at him then, her eyes softening a bit.

She was very pretty and, as strange and inappropriate as it was, she seemed to be suggesting that he might ask her for something more adult than some mere cloth.

Anders liked the idea of having a head that was attached to his shoulders, however and Farad could only see the idea as a trap for one like himself. That meant he bowed then, using the flirtatious bow. Then he spoke.

“A most welcome idea. Alas, I must admit that your husband is far too fierce and manly for me to compete with that way. I’d hate to have to force him to thrash me for impertinence.” He smiled then, hoping it was at least mildly charming. Rather than seeming upset, Princess Peri laughed.

It sounded pleasant enough.

“Ah? Someone willing to be polite and hold to propriety? That’s a rare thing here. Thank you, Master Brolly. Do I find you at your chambers, later?”

He shook his head, since offering up that location, even if he had just gently admitted to his own cowardice in order to set her advances aside, might well be taken as an invitation to do more than merely deliver him to her daughter for some work.

“I should be in with Master Depak, I believe? After I attend to the Modroc Ambassador and his people, of course. I fear I rather left some tasks undone, this morning. Hopefully the real servants took the slack up there. They probably did. That hall is being led by Daren Willet now, I hear. Sturdy man, Daren Willet. Ask anyone.” There was no reason not to promote the fellow, after all. As much as anyone at the castle ever had been, Daren was his friend, after all. Plus, he actually was a good man, and brave enough to have stood to a task that had terrified many of the others there.

The Princess curtsied.

“I’ll be there, just after the mid-meal?”

He nodded, even though that hadn’t truly been his plan for the day. Not that there was anything wrong with working on healing and related matters. Plus, he could still see to that and work on the armor, even if it felt like he might not have enough time to do the writing he had planned.

He bowed to both women and left directly, tracing his steps back to the correct door in the ambassadorial hallway. Of interest, everyone was still inside, talking, when he got there. Depak Sona clasped his hands, after answering the door, in his own person.

Anders nodded.

“I can come back? I was just coming in to make certain the morning chores have taken place.”

Depak grinned then.

“Daren came and handled the hallway for us, when he learned that you were sent off to other duties, suddenly. We have some food coming. We took the liberty of arranging that for you, as well as ourselves. Now, we have some things to discuss with you.”

The man waved for him to sit near him at the table, with Aisla on the other side of him. It was clear that the table itself had been made larger, a tingle of magic still on it, and that the chairs were ones brought in. They lacked a new quality to them that the table itself had. The trick there, was that the weight and material of the table had gone up. A thing that wasn’t going to happen, using magic alone.

Looking around, he realized that two of the small tables in the room were missing. No doubt merged with the more proper table and made into what was under his hands at the moment. He didn't comment on the work, just noting how it had been done and working out what he would need, in order to do the same thing. It could be complex, unless he created a single phrase to allow for it. He was going to need that kind of thing, and a lot more, for making armor. Especially the mail.

Looking up, everyone there stared at him. It was a bit uncomfortable.

“Oh! Forgive me. Princess Mathia is feeling much better. There does not seem to be any swelling or fever left. She’s still with the sickness, so needs to be kept away from anyone that might catch it. I’m planning to go later and see if I can aid with her breathing as well. I think I can manage that. I’ll need more meditation.” He shrugged, then realized that probably wasn’t strictly appropriate, given the subject at hand. After all, a deathly ill Princess who was better, if not truly well, was a glad tiding.

A thing that did have everyone there smiling.

Aisla seemed pleased with him. At least she grinned, her tan skin seeming smooth and largely unblemished.

“Wonderful! Now, we should tell you why we’re all waiting for you here, other than to note your success with Mathia. That truly is wonderful news. I was up half the night fretting over her health. She’s doing that well?”

He nodded.

“At least she feels that well and shouldn’t die from the illness. It’s not perfect, by any means. For instance, I doubt she can eat at all, right now. I just told her to fast and let nature take its course that way. To drink water, though. That’s important.” A thing that everyone there would know, he didn't doubt.

Prince Alpert, his blond hair neatly combed and his blue eyes shining a bit, smiled.

“There’s been some news, from Barquea. Ambassador Depak is being recalled. Not in anger or anything, thankfully. It’s just that a more permanent person is being put into place here. He’ll be leaving in the next season, as winter falls here. Some months from now.”

Anders sighed.

“Ah? That’s hard news for me then. I’ll miss you, Depak Sona.”

The man, his short mustache and nearly bald head looking very tidy, nodded.

“All must part company at some point. However, it will not be just yet. Aisla and Prince Alpert, along with Lady Lyse and yourself have been requested, so that Aisla might have her child in our homeland. You have a trip planned before that? It’s a lot of travel in a short time. Will that be well with you?”

He nodded, but then sighed.

“I might be needed here. In my capacity as a magical messenger. Though...” He looked away and then shook his head, not knowing if it could really work. “If I have the correct connections made first, and check in with someone here, I should be able to pass things to the needed parties, regardless of where I am. Twice the work for me, but doable, I think.” It would also make him harder to find in the middle of the night. “On top of that, Master Tolan will have that skill down shortly, as well.”

Really, while it would help to have his skills available for that, Anders became aware that he wasn’t really very important. Nothing he did was essential to the world around him at all. Then, that was the way of children. His goal, truly, should be to learn all he could, while he had time for it. Before his days needed to be spent in constant effort to keep himself fed and serve the world.

It was interesting, hearing the news though. Especially one point in it.

“Wait... I was requested to go, or...” That part nearly didn’t make sense to him. There was, after all, no particular reason for the King of a foreign land to even have heard of him. At least he didn't think there would be.

Aisla grinned at him.

“I have often mentioned you, in missives to my father, for years. His oracle told him that I would be with child soon, so he sent a letter. Several of them, in fact. It takes a while to communicate, in general. Really, we should introduce you to him, so that you can speak to him regularly.” She was, clearly, just making small talk on the last point.

Prince Alpert blinked and then nodded.

“I don’t know if he would allow that. Perhaps a servant could be added to those who can be contacted? That would be... Most effective. Truly, it nearly makes the trip worthwhile, even past the visit with your family.” He glanced at his wife, then over at Lyse. “Do you think you’ll be available, Lyse? I know that your duties here are important.”

There was no sense of irony in the words. It was a simple expression of fact. The Prince understood that his mother’s work, mainly as a spy, was important. A thing that Anders hadn’t really understood before that point. Even Farad hadn’t truly come to that conclusion. There were a lot of that type around, of course.

She nodded, a bit slowly.

“Perhaps? I’ll need to speak with some people on the topic first. It’s interesting that the Sula would expect me to attend with you, Aisla.” She seemed strained for a moment, even as the Princess shrugged.

Then she glanced at Depak Sona. The man looked back, a soft expression coming to his lips. Then there was a shrug, aimed at Lyse.

“To the ways of my people, you and Anders are both family. Your names are known in the Court of Dorian. At least I heard of you, Lyse, before leaving to act as ambassador here.” He waved at Anders then, almost a bit dismissively. “Not you though, Anders. Not by name. Only that some boy might be here who was my great-great-great grandson by marriage.”

Anders felt a slight sense of disappointment, coming from the boy portion of himself. As if fame in a foreign land was a normal thing to have. Indeed, he knew of only a handful of individuals in other lands himself, by name. Most of them were leaders. That or horrible monsters.

Farad smiled at the older man, his words coming out as slightly bemused.

“Little did you know that I’d be constantly underfoot, I wager. Always placing demands on you like I do... Speaking of which, since I get the next days off, I need to see to some things. Princess Mathia first, of course. Then... I need to work on some armor. That’s possible, isn’t it? I think I can see how to make cloth armor, but... Mail might too hard for me.” He wondered at the idea, but Depak Sona merely waved the words away.

All of them.

“You are not under foot at all. Indeed, you’ve been most helpful and attentive. As for ring mail... I’ve made it, for myself and others at need. I see no reason you cannot do the same. Just make certain you use solid rings and make them as small as will work. It will strengthen the end product. You can probably do cloth to good effect with what you already have learned. There might need be more effort for the metal portions.”

The words were academic sounding, but left him feeling better about the projects. Even if they were hard to pull off, knowing that they could be done, more, that Depak thought he was capable of the task, was helpful to him. At least he wasn’t going to feel like he was wasting his time as he worked on what he had planned anyway.

Lyse smiled at him.

“That sounds a bit busier than I would have expected, truly. At least with a break in your schedule. You have some time to visit with us, certainly?” She pulled a small fan and used it, even if that didn’t make sense. It was cool in the room, and she waved it in a particular fashion. While looking at him.

It was clearly a code of some sort. One that he hadn’t even heard of before. That she figured he might know enough to get the idea was odd. No one else was acting as if she were being vastly obvious, either. It took a bit of effort, to speak and commit what was done to memory, but he managed it, going into the hallway of Lyse, in his mind, and placed the various movements there, in case it was important, later.

He had to figure that she wanted to speak with him about something. Probably in private. Otherwise she would have simply broached the subject right then and there.

Anders nodded though.

“This evening? I need to work right now and should spend my afternoon doing other things. I need to find a wagon driver and some horses for that.” He grinned at Prince Alpert then, the man looking interested at the sudden attention. “I’m planning on taking Brownie and Chestnut with me... Hopefully the King won’t mind? I should probably ask him first, really. We just don’t run into each other, day to day. It’s a bit of a large thing to request, really.” The last time he’d gone out, to hunt Master Franken with the others, he’d simply taken the beasts.

No one had ever mentioned the idea to him as being negative, but taking the King’s horses was, if not allowed, a hanging offense.

The Prince actually nodded at his words.

“You do tend to be a bit busy, keeping you outside of court activities. I can bring the topic up with him. He might request a meeting, so stand ready for that. Then, he might also just say yes or no and send a messenger.” The words were spoken casually, in a way that had Lyse waving her fan again. Her face was bland, but the device, a thing made of silk and polished brown wood, pointed at him, pausing for a second. He honestly couldn’t tell what her meaning was, if it wasn’t just a random set of movements.

It occurred to him then to drop into a light trance and to use the skills of the wizard, to see if she was, at least, trying to convey meaning to him. It took some focus and it was clear that Depak Sona understood exactly what he was doing. The man matched him after all, scanning for meaning in the world. There were small physical signs of that happening. The eyes moved less and the breath slowed. Anders dropped deep, doing it instantly, which meant his breath nearly stopped, it was so slow. No more than a single breath in the time span which would normally hold ten or even twenty.

Depak wasn’t that deep at all.

The information he wanted was stunningly clear, since calm on the outside or not, Lyse was trying to signal that he needed to be careful. That far too much attention was suddenly on him. In a way that was unwelcome or possibly dangerous. It had to do with her father. No direct threat had come as of yet, but something had given her a sign in the speaking that had been going on which seemed to set her back. The specifics were all right there, but sitting with his eyes open, watching the room, meant he wasn’t going to understand what she meant past what he was getting.

Anders let his head move, nodding.

“A messenger would be most welcome. I can’t imagine that the King would have time for me in particular. I need to do that work, for Princess Mathia? I think I can ease breathing at least. That will be useful, come winter. Someone always has a congested chest.”

Depak stood then, which had everyone else doing it as well.

“Don’t neglect the nose as well. That and sealing flesh, if you are going to the front. A true healer can, at times, even save limbs that are most of the way off. Those are worthy areas to consider while you are away. Not that we won’t be meeting daily until that time. Keep your practice up, but, in a way, that is what you seek to do now, so I know that I can’t complain as to your plans. I’m sure Master Tolan will be pleased with your efforts as well.”

He nodded, since that was important to recall. He had more than one type of magic to work with. Really, he should have tried to sense what was going on with Mathia, earlier. She might have more things he could have helped with, if he’d done that. It would need to be a portion of what he did when working on health-related things, if it came up again.

It probably would. Someone always had a minor cut, burn or minor discomfort that could be helped with magic, if he learned how to do it properly. Mistress Colm had, rather sweetly, referred to him as a proper healer, but that wasn’t true at all. There was, very clearly, much more that could be done that way. More than Master Franken had managed, even. He knew how to do magic, or had, before he’d died. That he hadn’t done more with that skill seemed baffling now.

Then again, most of what he’d shown, skill wise, had been very limited in power and skill, or actually done by Ganges, if at a remove. The fellow had the magical talent and used such skills, but he hadn’t really done much with them, as far as healing went. Even though that was his stated job. Healing.

Most of what he’d done had been accomplished with potions, salves and poultices. Bandages and commentary on diet. All of which were useful and important, but didn’t sound like merging flesh back together or even reducing swelling directly.

It was clear that the room was going to be needed and asking to sit in his bed chamber again seemed a bit uncomfortable as far as presumption went.

“Princess Peri is coming to meet me here, after mid-meal. I can come back then? I can stand outside, to good effect.”

That meant going back to his own room to work, but he had hours to get that done still. Really, if he worked quickly and well, he could do as Depak had said and learn a few other things that would relate to healing. The ambassador nodded to him then and waved at the door to the room.

“Very good. I think we’ve covered what is needed for the time being. We should meet in the coming days, Prince Alpert. Lyse. To make travel arraignments.”

That meant everyone left the space at the same time. Of interest, they had to part at the door, going down the ambassadorial hallway in different directions. It showed a basic division in power, really. The highest went to the left, while Anders, the lowest one there, moved to the right. Except that this time his mother followed him, a hand gently touching his arm.

She didn’t speak to him, but still carried her fan in her left hand. It was a thing that he’d never noticed her doing before. One that, he was nearly certain, was being used to signal him. Probably toward caution. As if she didn’t want him to speak or react to anything in particular. The trouble in the situation, was that he couldn’t know what she was thinking and walk at the same time. Her prior concern had been enough to instruct him, however.

The woman wanted him to react in a certain fashion.

They moved in silence, a walk that took several minutes, since they did so at a measured pace. It was, he knew, what people did in the hallways there. Anders thought of it as normal having lived with it his entire life, but Farad saw it as contrived and a bit showy. People marched a bit, almost in step with one another. Each step surged slightly, then there was a pause before the next step took place.

Most people in the world, in his experience, simply walked. This was a bit of pageantry, designed to show off clothing and perhaps something more. Wealth. After all, the poor needed to rush from place to place. Those with grand resources had time to spare on things like looking relaxed as they traveled.

He fell into the pattern easily enough, since it was, truly, how Anders had been taught to move, when he wasn’t working. That had, until recent months, been completely about passing messages to others. Even in that moment, he wasn’t truly doing anything that could be counted as a useful task. It was important enough, he supposed. It would be, as soon as he could get to work. Part of him feared that Lyse would want something of him that might impinge on his time that way. If so...

Well, then Anders the boy would have to make it work out. After all, she was his mother. That didn’t mean he couldn’t spare some time to help a Princess taken ill, naturally. As excuses to not do a task immediately, that one was fairly good.

When they got to his door, he waved the lady inside, making certain that no one saw him gesturing first. It was a bit too covert, so he spoke, finally.

“You wanted to speak with me, Mother? I know that I’ve neglected you in the last weeks. Forgive me.” The words were only of average volume, but he had no illusions that they could not be overheard, if anyone cared to do so.

She grinned at him, her smile almost mischievous.

“True enough. Having to learn of my son’s strange doings of late from gossip is a bit backwards. Now, this won’t take long...” She moved with him into the room, shutting the door behind them with a firm click.

Then, once inside, the rather attractive, very well made up and presented woman, closed her eyes. A look crossed her face that spoke of real worry and concern.

“Anders... Farad Ibn Istel... You must take great care now. There is a sudden danger, with the arrival of my father into the castle.”

Anders let his head tilt, just a bit, and tried to smile, since he truly didn’t understand the idea.

“Why? Hasn’t the man disowned me? That news wasn’t over-welcome, but there is little I can do about it. Will he seek to harm me over the accident of my birth, do you think?”

Lyse snorted and actually looked angry for a moment. The blue of her eyes flashed.

“Accident? You can’t truly believe that you weren’t gotten on purpose, can you, my son? My father ordered you into being. He even demanded that I seduce Alpert, specifically, to see to the task. Then the King ordered your father to marry Aisla. A sound decision, but one that may come back at us now. King Mathias knew at the time that my father plotted for the throne, at least through you. When the needed marriage couldn’t be made, he... sought to get rid of you.” She looked away then and shook her head.

As if she weren’t going to speak on the matter.

Anders needed to know, though. Farad did, at any rate. The boy was merely baffled that his mother had been set to the task of producing him, since it had seemed an accident before that moment. A thing that was important to understand, that had been hidden from him completely.

“Get rid of me? Do mean remove the fruit of your womb before I was brought to this world?”

The woman looked at him, a hard thing, then shook her head.

“It was too late for that, when he learned of it. Of your being a factor. You were already alive. Some six months old, when he came for you. His plan was to throw you off a cliff, as he traveled home, claiming that an accident of the road had taken you. I found out about his plan, and went to the King. He saved you. It’s why I, a daughter of a mere baron, lives here with her child. That was why father disowned you. Not in anger as it might seem.” She shook her head, softly, then looked directly at her son.

“No, he pretended toward great shame at the action he’d ordered, as if it were a mere indiscretion of a young girl. That way he could lay claim to his attempted plot to murder you as a mere means of wiping that stain away.”

The words got him to shake his own head, frowning a bit. The expression was strange on his face. He either smiled, or most often, seemed blank. Then, he normally didn’t have call for a wider range of expressions than that. Perhaps concern, but he didn’t truly feel that over Baron Brolly as of yet.

“I see. I think. Still, why would that be an issue now? Do you think he’ll attempt to finish the task? I can’t lay claim to any grand martial skill, but if he tries it, he might find that I’m not all that easy to toss from a high place.” He didn’t allow a hint of threat in his voice. That would be both foolish and premature.

So far, he’d only heard a tale, after all. That wasn’t enough information to take action over, even if it was likely the truth.

His mother nodded, though her words showed that her thoughts were elsewhere for the moment.

“So I hear! There was talk of you flying through the air, as we spoke of last night. I’d tell you to be careful there, but too many know of your great magic now. That might be enough to protect you. Or it might simply mean that you are treated as a true threat to my father. That is the real issue here. Last night Sir Humphrey moved from the meal to send a fast courier to my father. The man himself found me and mentioned it.”

That was a bit odd, but Anders simply waited for her to explain. She either would or would not, after all.

Finally, she sighed.

“If I have it right, that letter was to warn him not to try conclusions with you. That to do so would bring great harm and misfortune, since you have become rather more than the mere castle boy that one might think. It spoke of your actions in the East, last spring. That and some other things. Hints, no doubt, of what you have achieved of late.” She smiled then. “Which will work. Father is keen with plotting and is known for it. He rarely seeks to go to war, if it can be helped and never duels or fights in his own person. The thing is there, Anders, that my father’s enemies tend to die.”

He simply accepted that information. It spoke of covert assassination, instead of anything truly martial in nature. He wasn’t aware of how to look for poisons in particular, but had memorized some old texts that might give him some clue toward how to protect himself that way. He had to doubt that the basic tricks of that sort of thing had advanced too greatly in the time of his long slumber.

Which did nothing to stop a knife to the back, or even a full attack being pointed at him, when he was off to the battle front.

“There was more though, wasn’t there? It makes little sense for a shrewd man to seek my death, in particular. Especially being disowned. You weren’t, correct?”

She tightened her lips then, so much that a bit of white showed at the edges, under her red makeup there.

“Correct. That was even more pointed. As if you, personally, were the one in the wrong, when as a child you had no control over the agency of your birth. A way of keeping me under the thumb, as his daughter, while the King granted me access to his halls. I’ve been forced to spy for him, my father, for the last eleven years. Not that I wasn’t here for that purpose before that. I won’t draw this out, since you are exacting in your thoughts. This new information and the work you are doing for the King might well goad the Baron into taking action against you.”

That one went right past him. Both portions of him. He simply admitted the lack, since it seemed like it might be important.

“I don’t understand. My taking messages for the King is an insult to him?”

That got another snort from his mother, she quirked her lips though.

“As if that’s all that you’ve done? You’ve been most humble about it, but it is Anders Brolly that men and women speak of as the hero of Sapphire Lake. Even today you ensured your place here, saving Princess Mathia. A marvel, but a thing that will make it seem as if you are tightly bound here. Then you ride off in mere days to the front, to ensure that the battle plans and information are passed in ways that none can match. That... It means that King Mathias trusts you, a mere boy, so greatly that the plans of his entire army are known to you. That’s rare even for generals and his own advisors.”

It was also needed, if he was to pass the information along. Farad wasn’t nearly as certain that the man was all that enamored of him.

His mother shook her head.

“Then, when one of our own betrayed us, Franken the traitor, who murdered the mother of the King’s secret sons, it was again Anders Brolly who led the hunt. I have that from both Master Belford and Captain Ford. That it was you who led them and drove them to greater speed, then set the plan to take the evil...” She grimaced then, her eyes tearing up. “Is it true that you ordered his arms and legs broken?”

It wasn’t a thing that they’d spoken of, so he shrugged.

“I suggested it. I certainly wasn’t being as commanding as all that. He was covered with blood magic...” He faltered then. Istlan didn’t have a specific word for tattoos. He was familiar with the practice, but these people simply didn't have the idea at all. “Drawings. Ones that were part of his very skin, the ink driven in. We needed to prevent escape.”

She nodded then.

“I’d heard some of that. I also heard that you dispatched ten brigands on the road.”

It was his turn to tighten his face. He had. Worse, he hadn’t even considered it since that time. Things had been busy. That realization shook him internally for a moment. He’d killed and not even cared about it being done. That was the action of a monster. Good men should feel the pain of each death they caused.

“I did.”

There was a wave in his direction then.

“A thing noted by the King himself. That you, even in passing, made certain to protect his lands and people from harm. That, well, it’s odd, Anders. Fearsome and a thing none can call you to task on, even being so young, but strange. Still, none of that would be of issue with father, on its own. You live here and making a mark for yourself is needed, being without inheritance or assured position in life. Even he wouldn’t truly begrudge you that. No, the problem is your grandfather, Sula Darian.”

Anders shook his head then and smiled, trying to make it seem warm.

“That’s unexpected, but how is it a problem? The Baron set me aside. It’s not his matter to be concerned over, is it?”

She closed her eyes then, as if trying to see the whole of a picture, in her mind.

“That’s the real heart of this, my son. The rules of Barquea are strange to us, but to them, as declared by their own highest King, you are a member of his house. Related not just to one King, but two, you might well be one who could take offense at his actions toward you and do something about it.”

She smiled then, her face blank around the eyes.

“As well, the whole thing makes him look very bad. A bastard in the castle will not be lauded as other men might, while also being given a certain level of care, since they are still family. The people of Barquea don’t see it as an issue at all. To them you are merely one of them. A Prince, if one of about two hundred of that sort. So, there is possible danger.”

He could, in a way, see it now. He smiled.

“Simple enough... I’ll write him a letter and suggest that he undo the disowning portion of things. After all, that way he can claim that there was a mere mistake at the time and that he’s having that corrected. If he does it, then it will seem... Well, it will probably seem as if he’s seeking favor with me. Still, then he won’t look too poorly in the eyes of others over the issue. Anyone might be upset and say the wrong thing, after all.”

Lyse stopped for a moment, then started laughing.

“Oh. That... Probably won’t work, but you should suggest it to him. I think he might have great trouble working out what you mean by it. That might even give you some protection. Still, be wary of a knife in the night, my child.”

She glanced around then, and noted the armor laid on his table.

“You make ready for battle?”

He nodded.

“I’m trying to learn how to make my own armor. It’s incredibly expensive, for some reason. I have some linen for the gambeson coming, I think. Princess Peri asked what I desired, as payment for my work this morning. I’m probably over-charging her.”

His mother shook her head then.

“I think not. I’m surprised she didn’t offer herself in the bargain. I know that I did, with Master Franken. There is no cure for the red fever, Anders. Half with it simply die. If you can save them, then that alone is... Well, I imagine that will keep you very busy, if you are willing to give aid to others, using your skills.”

He snorted. Then felt his face warm, blushing.

“I think she did. Hint that she was on offer. I told her that she was most comely, but that I couldn’t risk her husband thrashing me.” He shrugged. “I can only hope she didn’t take offense at it. She is very pretty.” It was hard to explain to his own mother that he was, in some ways, afraid of that kind of thing.

Worried over failure, rather than anything truly terrorizing, but it was enough to cause him to be hesitant where even Anders, the boy inside of him, would not have been.

There was a smile then and a wave at him.

“That is a good enough reason, truly. I’m certain she won’t take offense at it, if you spoke as you did just now. It might be best for you not to seek there, for some time. You are, I think, a bit too involved with the highest here, suddenly. Not that you have a choice, but going carefully is important.”

That, he knew, was a real enough thing. He simply didn't see how he could do anything except what he was, currently.

Chapter three

Mathia was still doing well when Anders went in to check on her. At least as far as her brain not swelling and her fever staying down to a reasonable temperature. Her breathing was still labored and her skin splotchy and red. That last part was going to have to stay, since he hadn’t worked out how to correct for that portion of things at all.

Twisting his face, due to the lack, he spoke softly.

“Broha-ludu-fen ot ban.” The words were nearly whispered, but they took focus in the magical portion of things. They were new phrases, after all. Broha was very specific, since it was meant to simply reduce swelling of the tissues of the lungs.

Ludu was his new word for lungs, though that included the entire breathing system. Not the nose, specifically, but the girl wasn’t suffering in that fashion, so it wasn’t needed at the moment. He could feel the energy moving, as a soft tingle. Nothing seemed to happen for nearly half a moment, then the young woman in front of him, one who was several years Anders’ senior, gasped.

It sounded clear. Helpfully she sucked in several deep breaths then, each one clearing more than the last. After ten of these, she giggled.

“Oh, my! That is so much nicer. It didn’t even taste too strongly of week-old stockings.” There was a smile then, for the herb woman, Mistress Colm.

Rather than seem upset by the castigation, the lady laughed herself.

“The flavor means it’s working, Princess Mathia. Everyone knows that.” She spoke in good humor though, and moved in to listen to the girl’s chest, pressing her ear against her. “That, is nearly perfect breathing. How long will this effect last?” She glanced at him, looking down a few inches to do so.

“A week. I’m tied to you, Mathia, for that time, running three spells, constantly. So, if I die in that time frame, don’t turn down the breathing potion. Stocking flavored or not. Really, Mistress Colm, do you have any invigorating tonics that she can safely have? Like I mentioned earlier, you’re still sick. Anything we can do to build you up will be to the good.” He mainly addressed the girl in the bed, who dimpled at him rather sweetly.

“I know. Mother was practically scolding me earlier for standing and walking around the room. This lying in bed for days is making my back and limbs ache.” She frowned a bit then, as if it were a real problem.

It wasn’t, compared to dying. Even a fever delirium was worse than stiff limbs.

“That should be fine. The point is to stop the spread of the illness, if possible. Walking gently, in your chambers here, won’t be an issue. Don’t push too hard, though. Stretch as you will and sitting at a desk or doing some reading or writing should be allowable.”

Mistress Colm hmphed at him and crossed her arms.

“After I told her that she needed to stay abed for best health? Are you trying to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doing, Master Brolly?” She didn’t seem to be legitimately upset, even if the words could mean that.

“Not at all. In general, that’s the best plan. Still, once the major risks have been removed, we probably won’t be able to demand a total lack of action. Not and make it stick. So, I’m offering a few things to pass the time that won’t tax her too much. That’s clever of me, don’t you think?” He glanced at the Princess then and dared a wink. The kind that, he hoped, spoke of him being playful, rather than attempting to woo her.

The girl giggled again, and covered her mouth with a hand. There was no cough from it, however, which was a good sign. She was still going to need to be watched.

“Ah. Good then. I can read a bit. I’ve no one to write to, at present. Though I suppose I could send a letter to Aunt Matilde? She and I haven’t spoken in ages. That’s poor form on my portion, being that she’s my favorite.” There was a conspiratorial look around then, as if there were watchers in the walls. There weren’t, naturally, the things being of heavy stone. “Don’t mention that to my other aunts, of course.”

He simply nodded. After all, that could cause problems. Plus, he didn’t know any of those, no doubt esteemed, ladies. At least he didn’t think he did. That there were connections that Anders the boy had never made that way was obvious. It came, he had to think, from a combination of factors. One of which being that his own mother was too used to being a spy, it seemed.

At least he knew now who she was working for. For some reason, before that day, he’d assumed she was doing so for the King. That her own father had her off, having relations with both men and women in order to gain him bits of information made him slightly angry for a moment.

Oddly, it was the old historian inside that bristled at the idea. Anders the boy wasn’t pleased with the idea, but understood it as being what was needed. Then, the child hadn’t lived in a normal situation for his entire life. Farad had grown up on a farm, before moving on to becoming a monastic historian. A keeper of time’s story.

An occupation that didn’t seem to exist any longer. At least not in the land that he’d found himself upon awakening, after his death.

“I’m certain that both myself and Mistress Colm will keep your confidence on the matter. Now, since I don’t know any card games, I should be off. I have to try and make some cloth armor. At least if I can get the materials to work with.”

The Princess nodded.

“I didn’t know you could sew. We should get together and do some embroidery, sometime.” She didn’t so much as let a lip curl upward at the words, even if it implied he was a bit girly in his manners or customs.

Anders the boy bristled on that one, as if she were saying he was a girl.

Farad simply laughed. It was a bit menacing, really.

“I can darn stockings and place patches that way. Nothing too fine. I have to use magic for the greater feats of sewing, I fear. It’s faster, but I still have to do it correctly or else it will be a mess.”

There was a nod of understanding then, from both women. The herb woman moved back though, withdrawing, so that they could speak. It was what ladies did when a suitor came to visit. The girl was his cousin however, so he wasn’t going to press in there, himself.

She nodded.

“I could do some needle work in bed? Or is that too strenuous?” She seemed to mean it, so he answered honestly.

“That’s fine. Just don’t stab yourself too often.”

The words were taken as a jest, even if he wasn’t certain as to why. Still, he smiled about it and using first courtly, he bowed himself out of the room. Walking backward, bent over. In the hallway he nearly ran into Princess Peri, who seemed happier than she had been earlier in the day.

“Is she well?”

Part of him wanted to start out with the fact that the girl was still sick, but instead he nodded.

“Her breathing is being eased, as well as the fever and swelling of the brain. She’s still covered in rash. At least her face is. She can get up to sit or read, or do some needle work. Other simple tasks that don’t make her breathe too hard or leave her rooms. She should have Mistress Colm with her, if she can stay regularly. I can come and visit her, but the truth is I’m rather boring, I fear.”

That last, the part about visiting, was much outside what he would have ever thought to do. They weren’t friends, Mathia and himself, so he needed to go carefully that way. It would be too simple for things to be taken the wrong way.

“Really, we should get some others to come and visit, if they’re safe from the red fever. She has to be feeling almost well, at the moment, which means that boredom will set in.”

The woman looked down at him and frowned a bit.

“I have no one for that task. Do you, Master Brolly?”

“Not even one, off the top of my head. Still, someone will be around. I mean the servants come down with such things, from time to time.” That probably wouldn’t make for a proper companion for the young woman though. Still, a servant who could come and go might be welcome.

Peri nodded then.

“They do. I know that some ten of them are down with this latest occurrence of the disease. We’ll probably lose half of them, which is a shame. Two of them are children.” She seemed upset by the idea.

She also didn’t even hint that he, personally, should see to doing anything about it.

He nodded.

“I understand. I...” He felt annoyed at the moment, which seemed to show on his face, then he worked out what was needed. “I’ll see to them. Thank you.”

It was going to take away from his time and energy, doing spells for eleven people like that. Still, he wasn’t going to let them die, if he could help it.

The woman gave him a grave look then and teared up. Crying for some reason.

“That is... They cannot afford to pay you.” She stood straighter then. “I’ll do it, then.”

There was a big inhalation then, as if she were setting for a hard task.

Anders just smiled at her and waved his hand a bit.

“I shouldn’t need that much linen. I still like that idea, though. We can tell them that you’re making sure they’re taken care of. I... Well, soonest done, no? Can you find someone to lead me to them?”

He could ask around, but the words simply came out, since it might be important for him to hurry along. Leaving people to suffer wasn’t a good thing. He hadn’t even heard that anyone was feeling poorly. Then, he wouldn’t. Most of the servants didn’t really speak to him, unless he talked to them first. The one he was closest to was Daren Willet. The man hadn’t stopped to gossip with him at all. Ever, now that he thought about it. Like many there, he had an entire life that Anders wasn’t aware of.

The Princess, the future Queen, straightened herself.

“Right. We need to invade the help’s quarters. Come then, Master Brolly. We’ll go directly.”

Not that the woman didn’t have to do her own asking as to where the people feeling poorly were. The big difference was, Anders felt certain, that if he asked to be taken to the ill people, someone would have politely demurred and claimed not to know of such a person in their ranks.

With a helpful noble woman in tow, the very first cleaning maid they saw led them to the correct place at once. All of the ill had been put in adjoining rooms, so that a few bodies could care for them, leaving more people to do their daily tasks. It was the matronly Wedra who roughly curtsied at them, when they were left at the correct section of rooms.

“Your pardon, Princess, what may a body do for you this day?”

The woman, seeming decently regal, which she hadn’t bothered doing with him earlier, stood a bit straighter.

“Master Brolly has aided Princess Mathia, who has fallen in the night to the red fever. She is all but healed now. Needing rest, but no longer gasping and on fire as she was. I’ve begged our man here to see to those servants who have fallen, as well. He’s agreed, being of kind heart. Would you take us to them? Rather, take him? I don’t want to catch this fever, not having had it before.”

The older woman looked concerned.

“Anders is going to heal them? I...” She glanced away, then looked back at him. He was small, though larger than any serving boy his age would have been by nearly seven inches. His clothing suddenly seemed rich, compared to what it was.

There were also rumors of him using magic. A thing that the lady had seen for herself, at least once in the last weeks.

So he nodded.

“It’s all right Wedra. I know, it’s magic, but it’s also me doing it. One of your own people.”

The words worked well enough, if not perfectly. She nodded though. Then, not saying a word, she led him to the nearest room. Four adult men were inside of it. All of them familiar. Known to him by name, in fact. He moved to Old George first.

“Sowln- ere ot neg- fen ot ban.” He moved his hand around the other man’s head, touching the bald skin and gray hair there gently. Then without waiting, he handled the fever.

“Ferven- ere ot neg- fen ot ban.”

This time he added the breathing portion as well, then, not waiting, moved to Greg, who was in the next bed. By the time the first men started to rouse, a minute later, he was through all of them.

Old George tried to stand.

“This...” He coughed once, then sucked in a full breath of air. Spitting a large amount into a cloth he grabbed from the bedside. Then, a bit disgustingly, he needed to do that for another few rounds, then he smiled.

“I feel... Nearly well again. This is...” Two of the other men did similar things, clearly having been further along in their illness than Mathia was.

The last man, who was Jeld, one of the servants who regularly saw to the low hall, looked at him.

“Magic?” He seemed worried over it. Before he could speak, Wedra did it for him. She sounded slightly scolding about it. As if he was being ridiculous.

“Certainly, it’s magic! It’s just young Anders here, though. One of us. Now, what instructions do you have for these lay abouts, Anders?” From her tone she seemed to expect him to order them straight to work.

“Rest. Drink water. As much as you can hold. Eat if you can, but if not, don’t let that concern you. A few more days without food will do no harm. You might still be able to make others sick. If you came down with the first symptoms in the last seven days, then you don’t leave this room, until that time passes. After that... Well, you’ll still need to heal. What I did should prevent death from coming and leave you feeling well, but the healing isn’t finished. Return to your normal efforts slowly, after that. If you try to leave before the first week of illness is up, then Wedra will tell me and I’ll tell Master Belford, who will come and beat you with his stick.” The man didn’t really do things like that, but everyone there went slightly wide eyed at the idea. Mainly, he didn't doubt, because it was different than what they were used to hearing.

That being, get to work and don’t complain, most likely.

They repeated the same thing for the rest of the ill, with similar instructions for all. Then, feeling a bit out of breath, Anders waved to Wedra and left. Heading back to his own room. The entire time he was just a bit out of sorts. It was, he understood, from pushing as hard as he was. Holding one girl to health was a slight drain. He’d just increased that load by ten, which was starting to weigh on him.

It wasn’t a thing he couldn’t handle, as long as he measured the rest of what he did carefully enough. Which meant, annoyingly, that it was going to take much longer to make the armor he had planned. A thing that was a shame, since right there, on the floor of his room, was a stack of heavy linen sheets. The piled was tied at the top with thick brown twine and the pale tan bundle must have been nearly to his waist and as long as he was tall. Half that wide. In short, enough for him to make fifteen, possibly twenty, full sized gambesons.

Knowing he needed to go carefully, he spent the rest of the afternoon designing the spell he needed, then, slowly, measuring his pace, he brought the first of his cloth armor pieces into being. It took twice, or possibly three times as much work as he would have figured, even knowing roughly what to do. That was mainly in tailoring the thing to actually fit him.

He put it on, then designed a heavy cloth belt, which he made to seem like leather. There was no metal to it, since he wasn’t up to that kind of work as of yet. Both being too hard and simply not having the needed magical words to hold the concepts he needed to express for it. Instead he made three bands, loops of leather, and worked the belt through them carefully, so that it folded over itself and would catch enough to stay tightened. There was no fire in his hearth, so the heavy clothing was only a bit warm, instead of causing him to half melt.

He made it a nice blue color, which was dark, but rich, and then made a few more, very careful, alterations to the cut. That portion was harder for him, since he had to make up three new phrases to make it actually work. Then, rather carefully, he made a good copy of what Sir Humphrey had lent him to examine. Then he spent time examining the mail, and coming up with words for that as well.

Depak Sona had suggested he make the rings solid, which he had examples of there. In the center of each riveted and hammered link, there was a single one made of rounded, solid, steel. He thought he understood the basic idea. The rivets, while strong, were weaker than if the rings were whole. That would be much harder to do with a forge and anvil than with magic. At least in theory. It was tempting to run and get some metal to work with, that night, but he held off, opting for the late meal instead. He wore the gambeson, which was comfortable enough, even if it had thirty-four layers of linen in it. It was heavy, but the belt, which he’d thought of as decorative, actually put some of the weight on his hips. Not that he couldn’t have worn it anyway, given it only weighed about seven or eight pounds.

Once he had a plate of food, there was a wave from one of the tables.

“Master Brolly! Come join us!”

The person calling out was one he’d never spoken to before in his entire life. Baron Kilroy. Renly Kilroy, if he recalled the name correctly. A man that Master Belford had suggested as being one with a reputation of taking offense and starting duels because of it. Things that most of those he faced simply didn’t survive. Actually, it had been many didn’t survive. Not most.

Anders recalled the words rather exactly, since they’d clearly been a warning to him at the time.

Next to the man, who was smiling well enough, sat Master Belford. They weren’t at the high table, at the front of the room, but were instead one back, near the wall. There was a tapestry in red and gold behind them, one that displayed a lion on it. It was a mere decoration, though well designed. Sir Humphrey was next to the men, turning to nod in his direction.

It was that man who stroked his mustache and spoke first, when he settled his plate.

“A new gambeson? May I?” He indicated wanting to touch the sleeve, so Anders put his left hand out, letting the man check the quality of the work. As he rubbed it, taking the inner portion of the sleeve, by the wrist, he nodded. “Heavy. More so than most. That’s important, but generally too expensive for most to consider. Good stitching on it, as well. Excellent workmanship.” Then not mentioning that he’d done it himself, or most likely had, the man turned to look at the baron.

“Brolly here is riding out to the front in a week. He’s putting together some proper gear, this time. Even if he’s mainly on the magic side. This, a set of mail and weapons. What do you have planned for that?”

He blinked, then shrugged a bit.

“Bow, spear and a long knife. I don’t have the skill or strength to use a proper sword yet.” Plus, even though he didn't mention the idea, it was all he’d been trained for so far. Only for about four and a half months, as well. “My bow is too light, but I can spell the arrows to good effect. It doesn’t totally make up for the lack, but...” The truth was, it wasn’t his part to fight, if he could help it.

Baron Kilroy smiled at him. It seemed... Friendly. That was a bit surprising, though also about all he’d ever truly seen from the man, himself.

“I saw that, as we rode out together.” The man didn’t call the words out with great force, nearly whispering them. Then, all of the people at the table had gone to collect Master Franken, so the tale didn’t need to be related to anyone. “I’ve had word that you were going out soon. Also, that if one had a small delivery or two going there, it might travel safely with you? I have a friend out that way. General Harrell. He might desire a nice bottle or a small barrel or two, for entertainment. Would that be possible, do you think?”

That was the name of one of the battle groups commanders, so it was very likely a thing that could happen.

“I have a heavy wagon. I need some horses to pull it and probably someone to drive. I don’t know how, at any rate.”

The Baron waved that away.

“Get oxen. They eat a bit more but will graze on almost anything available. They’re strong and hardier than a horse. Not as fast, which is why we don’t use them in battle. Easier to drive, as well. Certainly you can learn how to do that, over the next few days. Even if you find or hire a man for the work, you should learn to do it yourself. It comes up that there’s need at times. Especially if you already have a wagon and the oxen for it.” The man didn’t act as if he was being clever, but probably was.

Anders just nodded.

“I’ll see to that then. I only have my own gear so far and plan to take horses, if I can borrow them, so the back is going to be empty.”

That got a laugh, from everyone there, including a few people at other tables.

Sir Humphrey explained at least.

“A wagon going to the front will be filled to overflowing, if you aren’t careful. What rate are you charging for space in the back?”

People seemed interested in his answer then, as if he was going to have even half an idea about that sort of thing.

He smiled, and took a bite of braised mutton, to buy time. It was good. Not that tender, but it had been beaten to soften it, which always helped. Anders could tell by the texture that it had been done. That likely meant an old beast had passed, instead of one being slaughtered for their meal.

“Anything going to the generals is free. As long as I have the space and it isn’t too heavy. The same for the captains. Any gifts for the men in general as well. The rest... Standard rate?” He had no clue as to what that would be, but there would be something like it, he had no doubt. Baron Kilroy laughed a bit.

“Well! There goes the space in that wagon then. I’d like room for, call it three boxes of spirits? About two by two.” He gestured, showing how much space that was. “You can stack them up, since they’re only about half that high. That should be ten fine bottles in each, packed in hay. One for each of the generals.” He seemed nearly smug, as if asking more than he had a right to, out of humorous intent, until Anders nodded.

Then he just seemed pleased enough.

The conversation shifted then, the tone going dark, most of the way through the meal. Baron Kilroy leaned in, seeming honestly worried.

“I heard that Princess Mathia took ill with the red death, last night. Half that suffer it die. That doesn’t bode well.” He seemed grim about the idea, instead of like he was merely gossiping.

Anders didn’t speak on the topic, since it wasn’t his place. That didn’t stop Master Belford, who grinned then and touched the man on the arm. It was done warmly, but only to get attention.

“Renly, she’s nearly well, already. Princess Peri woke Master Brolly here in the early morning and asked him to see to it. He did. From the sound of it, she’s already trying to find a way to get outside for a while, in the morning. She needs to keep to her room, to prevent the illness from spreading? For a week, like the servants you’re aiding?”

He glanced at the others, then, rather elegantly, shrugged.

“I’ve had the sickness, when I was a boy, so was called on by one of the servants to see that those ill know the rules. If they leave their rooms without leave, they get a beating.” He grinned then. It wasn’t mean seeming at all.

“I lost a sister to that illness, as a child. Merry. It’s good to see it handled, finally. They... All of them are doing most well. Three wouldn’t have made it another two days and now all of them are ready to go back to their labors.” He teared up then, either at the thought of his lost sister or the health of those he saw for himself that day.

Possibly both.

No one suggested it was less than proper. In fact, the Baron had a tear in his eyes as well, and touched his friend on the arm. Sir Humphrey didn't mock them over it, just looking away.

“You’re serious? There are five more here at the castle then, who have it. More in town...”

Anders actually groaned then, and shook his head.

“I’m using active magic to hold all of them in this state, so they can recover. It was all I could do to make this gambeson and do that at the same time. If I add five more...” He shrugged. “Well, then I’ll have to work out some way to make mail without using too much power for it. I don’t know how that will work. Where do I go? After the meal...” He grimaced then sat up straight and shook his head. “That feels low, but if I don’t eat, then I’ll fall to exhaustion and help no one.”

The big knight grunted at him.

“Too right, Brolly. Still, hurry in that. Do you need more? I’ll collect that for you, so you don’t have to wait.” He started to stand, but Anders shook his head.

It was true he would need more, but if he ended up truly pushing himself that night, gasping and wheezing in effort to hold the spells he had going, then he was going to wish for his stomach to not be too full.

“I shouldn’t. Not if greater work comes. I’ll hurry though.” He did then, using good manner, since Master Belford was like to hit him if he didn’t. Still, he pushed and not three minutes later was standing, leaving his dish on the table as was the custom there. As often happened, Farad felt an odd urge to rise and carry the plate to the scullery himself. That came from his old life, where he was rarely served, unless ill or dying.

Sir Humphrey rose again, and walked with him, taking the lead. Interestingly, Master Belford and Baron Kilroy moved along behind them, also at a good pace, as if they were in a single group. The hall they entered was on the east side of the castle. To the outside, which was where the good rooms were. Not the highest, since most of those took up positions in the towers, but it was clear that he hadn’t missed any of the servants. No, these people, whoever they were, had fine rooms. Things as large as what Princess Mathia herself had.

At the first door, the knight tapped it politely, with his fist.

“Sir Daniel? Are you still alive? I brought help for you.”

There was no response for a bit, then a low, gravely, voice called out.

“Come, then. If you can risk it.”

Anders moved to the front, since he wasn’t at risk at all. All the men moved in with him, so the other two were also immune, very brave or very foolish. Hopefully that first one, since Anders didn’t want to be part of making more ill people to tend.

Unlike the Princess or the servants, it was clear that no one had been checking on this man regularly, at all. The room smelled, mainly of urine, but also other things that showed the fellow had soiled himself there. He wasn’t old seeming, being about two decades and perhaps a few years past that. He was sallow and gaunt though, his cheeks sunken in already.

Anders just started working, the buzz of magic filling his words. After the third spell, he nodded.

“Master Belford, would you see to arranging a servant for this man? Wedra might manage it, since her current charges shouldn’t be as demanding of her time?” That was a bit improper, since a strange man might make improper advances on her, but the woman was immune to the sickness, making her valuable that way.

There was simply a nod from the black-haired man. He didn’t say anything though, since the man in the bed sat up.

“Agh! That is...” There were a few blinks then, and a desperate grab for an old, rather encrusted, cloth that he coughed into for a few minutes. When that was done, he stood.

“I’m fixed? I mean, weak as a kitten, but the death isn’t upon me now?”

Anders just waved at him.

“How long were you ill?”

“Nine days, I think. I lost track there.” He glanced at Sir Humphrey, who nodded in agreement.

“That sounds right.”

“That should be fine then. Take a rest week, but you shouldn’t make anyone else ill. You still need to recover. It took me about three weeks to really get back to normal, when I had it. I’ll be back here in about an hour, to clean up. There are others, or I’d stay. Forgive me.”

The man laughed then.

“Right. Well, I’ll let it go this one time. Really, the servants can do the cleaning. They couldn’t come for some days. They left food and then pitchers of water for me. I haven’t been able to collect those for a bit.”

Anders understood that part of things. He’d had water and couldn’t have managed to get it for himself, when he was ill. It probably meant that this fellow was incredibly strong, inside, as well as out.

It was tempting to get him some clean water, using magic, but Anders resisted that, moving from one space to the next. At the end of it there were sixteen people, each pulling on him for three separate spells. They weren’t in dire need, thankfully, but it was a drain. It was forty-eight spells, all being held at one time. All of them calling to him. Taxing him.

He was, in the end, left just slightly breathless. It was, he decided, going to make sleeping that night a pleasant thing to engage in. Still, him losing a bit of sleep was better than others losing their lives. Rather than go back and clean the rooms of those who were ill, one of them being Countess Rainly, he merely allowed the three men to lead him back to his own chambers. They all just piled inside, as if invited, when they got there. That was a bit strange, but other than glance around a bit, they didn’t seem to want anything.

Sir Humphrey moved to the table and picked up the new gambeson there, lying on top of the older one.

Anders waved at it, keeping the gasping sounds out of his voice. Mainly.

“For you, Sir Humphrey. Thank you for the loan of it, as an example. I should have some mail in a day or two, if I can work that fast. It’s not assured, unfortunately.” He thought he could send and receive messages at the moment. That was precise work, but didn’t take much magical energy to perform. “The truth is that I’m pushing myself, foolishly. I can’t let people die though, if I can save them.” He held his hands up and out, as if to say he didn't know what else to do.

The knight simply nodded at him.

“Aye. That one is a hard lesson. You can’t save them all. No man can. Still, there is no harm in doing your best. Thank you, for aiding those others. I’ll see to collecting your payment from them. What would you like? It’s not easy work, I can tell.” He waved at Anders, who was still breathing heavily.

“I... The honest truth is, that I don’t know. Nothing in my life has told me what to do that way. They can pay what they think is fair? Princess Peri arranged for that linen for me, for instance. I have need for some metal, to make the mail out of. It doesn’t have to be fine looking, or even wire. I think I can do it from lumps or scrap.” That had been his plan, the entire time.

There was a nod then.

“I’ll see to that, myself. Well, I’ll put the word out as to that payment and let them decide for themselves. That way no one will feel cheated. Not that they would. The price of such magics is always high. If it were my life, then I’d give nearly all I had. They won’t though, you can count on that. People get selfish, once they’re safe again.” The large man headed toward the door. “We’ll talk tomorrow? You should sleep now, if you can. Come, gentlemen. We should speak as well.”

The words got a stiff nod from Master Belford and a slightly more relaxed one from Baron Kilroy.

“Have the most pleasant of dreams, Master Brolly. We’ll speak soon, as well.”

Then the three men left, closing the door behind them. Slowly, a bit clumsily, Anders struggled into his night clothes and all but fell into his bed. It wasn’t late yet, but he had no doubt that he was falling asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

Which happened so hard that he didn’t wake up until he heard the tapping on his chamber door. There was light coming through his window. The full kind, that indicated it was true day already.

“Grand. I’m late.” Except that, other than his morning visits, he wasn’t so much, that day.

He called out though, so whoever had come to visit him wouldn’t think he was lazy.

“One moment.”

He was still in his night clothing, and breathing hard enough that it would probably seem as if he’d been doing something other than sleeping, when he opened the door. It was, to his shock and surprise, Prince Erold.

“There you are. I checked in with Depak Sona first, but he allowed as to not having seen you all morning. It’s nearly half noon. Are you well?” He looked concerned, as if Anders might be falling ill or something.

He just nodded and grinned, his breath still short.

“I am. I’m just... holding nearly fifty spells at one time. None of them are too powerful, but it’s like holding a stone the size of your fist, for each.”

The other boy was clever, so took his meaning without more explanation.

“I see. One stone isn’t that hard to hold, or two. But at twenty your arms would ache and at fifty your knees probably buckle.”

That got a nod.

“Like that. Now, what can I do for you today?” They were friends, but hadn’t really done much together, since the Prince had married Princess Sweyn, of Modroc.

Which, honestly, might have been down to him not having much free time of late, instead of the other boy being at fault. The Prince was a bit taller than he was, and a little broader across the shoulders. Other than that, he’d heard that they actually looked much alike. That was interesting if true, since the other boy was said to be handsome. Farad didn’t truly know, not having seen as much as his own reflection in a puddle in the time that he’d been with Anders.

The boy hardly knew what he looked like, either, as far as that went. Mirrors were a thing, but not one that young men seemed to be provided with. It could just be him, of course.

There was no bow from the boy, but there was a somber nod.

“Father would like you to attend him, in Robarts’s office, after the mid-meal. It seems to be a meeting about you, so you probably don’t want to be late for it. Now, I need to run, so that I can have my own first meal. You should do the same, or... Would you like me to order a meal brought to you?”

He waved that idea away. After all, he was breathing hard, but felt fine, otherwise. Really, he wasn’t even doing that much as far as gasping went. He just needed to hide it better.

“I’m fine. I just need to hold these for a while. A week. Tell people not to get sick right now, if they can prevent it, since I don’t think I can add many more people to this. As it stands, I have projects that will be difficult to manage now. Not that illness will wait on my schedule. You know, that’s most rude of the red fever, not doing that for me. We’re so close, as well.” Being that he’d nearly died from it, not five months before.

That got a sage nod, from the other boy, his blond hair neatly combed and cared for already, for the day.

“I understand. You’re riding to the front, at the end of this week?”

That was the plan, so he nodded.

“Yes. Just for a short visit. Then I’m back here for a time.” The words came out as if Anders was suggesting it was a pleasure trip for him. That wasn’t honestly the truth. It was for the war effort, nothing less.

Regardless, the Prince frowned at him.

“There has been talk asking if it is proper for you to go. It isn’t just your age, though that’s a part of the situation. It might just be better to protect you, and bring the generals back here for a few weeks, rather than the other way around. I know that there’s a plan in place to see to that, introducing you to those types here, in the future.”

That was a thing that he’d heard before, from Prince Robarts. For him it was the best plan, though he doubted that he’d be held back this time. It was easier to send him, even if a small risk, than it was to remove leadership from the troops, in a war zone.

Anders was covered in a light sheen of sweat, even if the room was cool. It wasn’t a soaking, but he needed to clean up for the day, before going out. To that end, he smiled at Erold, then waved him away.

“I need to prepare myself. Then get some food. This... It’s a bit like I’m running and have been for half a day. More than that now. There’s no real rest in sight, either. Not that it’s a large hardship. I just need to take some care at the moment.”

Another nod came, and a wave. It was a casual thing. Then, they were friends.

“I’ll see you later then. At the meeting. Also, Sweyn wants to see you before you go. Eltha Tennet as well. I was asked to inform you of that?” There was a knowing smile then, as if the words were about something secret or romantic. It honestly wasn’t.

The woman had just been set to spy on him. That was the real answer to her seeming interest in him. Eltha was simply being friendly about it, if a bit pushy. Then, there was no reason for her to seek him out, day to day, which had to make it rather difficult to keep track of him. Until the servants had taken over in the mornings, he’d been with her for at least fifteen minutes a day. Now he was going to be removed from the castle for at least a month. More than that, if travel was hard.

A thing that would have more to do with the weather than anything else. Even Anders, the young boy, knew that wagon caravans moved ridiculously slowly at times. Which meant that he needed to make certain he had clothing with him, the warm kind, in case he had to stay the winter at the front. It was a thing that he knew he could come up with, if he was careful. A thick travel cloak, a sturdy hood, stout trousers and a tunic. Some kind of mittens, as well.

He nodded, then realized that doing that was probably going to take the rest of the week, even if he could use the linen Princess Peri had provided him for the task. That was going to take shifting the nature of the fabric, which would take something other than silk or leather. Those were the only two materials that he could make things look like if he changed their character. So, that would mean he could, currently, work in linen, or those fabrics.

Not that leather was a fabric.

Erold being gone meant that he could get some water in and scrub himself. It would mean stripping down, of course. Without thinking, he moved to his wash basin and touched his empty water pitcher.

“Wo-ere ot neg-fen.” It was a simple spell. One that he used at least three, sometimes up to ten, times per day.

So, he was a bit shocked when the world went dark and he opened his eyes, laying on the hard stone floor. From the feeling of it, he’d managed to land on his face rather nicely. His right cheek hurt enough when he reached up and touched it to show real damage had been done. He was also panting hard still. As if sprinting up a hill as hard as he could.

“Which, is probably about correct. Fool. You know there are limits on personal energy.” There were long pauses in his speech, due to the gasping and carrying on he was doing at the moment. His very lungs began to ache from it and his stomach threatened to cramp from the effort.

When things subsided, about five minutes later, he stood, going carefully, in case that action was going to send him back to his stony napping spot. Thankfully it didn’t.

There was water in his clay pitcher, meaning the spell worked properly. It was simply that he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be. Normally he liked to start his mornings without half his face being bruised purple.

He took his time and carefully scrubbed up, being that his face truly was tender. He did it twice in fact, since he sort of wanted to avoid going to the low hall now. It was going to be hard to explain that no one had beaten him. If anyone even cared to think that. They might, or might not. In general, people tended to pretend not to see that kind of thing. It could serve him well, that day.

Still, he dressed himself slowly, then realized that dawdling wasn’t going to help anything. He was still breathing hard enough to notice, but his stomach had started to growl noisily at the same time. The food was in the low hall, so he needed to go and get it. Otherwise he was going to have to make sure that he turned his face the other way when he keeled over next.

He left his daily wear the same as it had been the day before. Anders didn’t even bother to clean it, which was fine, since it had been done several times the day before, but left him feeling a bit dingy and unkempt. It was, he had to think, no worse than what most people did, day to day. That didn’t mean his habits of late weren’t causing him to feel a bit like he was being lazy as far as personal care went.

It was a thing he simply had to put up with. At least if he weren’t going to sit down while working. That or figure out how to do the work in a way that was less of a drain on him than his current skills allowed for.

No one came to sit by him at the morning meal. He did get a few strange looks, from his heavy breathing and bruised face, but he smiled and waved at people when they did it, which seemed to assure them that nothing was all that wrong with him. After eating nearly twice the food he felt entitled to, he moved back to his room, since he had things to do, even if they weren’t about magic.

It meant sitting at his little table, the armor piled to the side of it, with pages set out as he worked on compiling a written text. The one in front of him was called Communication at a Distance. He gave the complete style he’d developed, including information that was needed to make it work. At least, it would be complete, once he finished it. He was only ten pages in by the time his middle informed him that he was going to have to eat again.

Anders thought about his current efforts as he moved to the low hall to eat again. As he chewed his bread, a crusty end piece with fresh sweet butter, his mother came in, settling next to him. She looked at his face, then away, not touching him. She winced though.

“Did... Someone strike you? In practice or...” She seemed to be getting at something in particular.

A thing that he didn’t truly understand.

He shook his head though and grinned at her, even if it hurt.

“Nothing like that. I’m just running so many active spells, for the sick people here, that when I tried to use magic to fill my water pitcher, I woke up having fallen on my face.” He didn’t touch it, since that was rude at meals. It wasn’t a big offense, like belching loudly or using foul language, but it was frowned upon. “It’s just my own lack of skill, to tell the truth. If I was better at magic, I’d probably know how to prevent such things. For now, I’m going to have to manage things by being sensible, I’m afraid.”

The words got his mother to glance at him then.

“Ah. That sounds better, than it could have been, then. I couldn’t see a reason for anyone to punish you at present, but such things aren’t always sensible. How are you occupying yourself at the moment, if you need to stand back from such things?”

Anders understood that she wasn’t asking out of personal concern, but rather due to her trying to be understood by those around her. Those who listened to the speech of others.

“I have an interesting writing project, right now, for Master Tolan. After the meal I’m in a meeting.” He nearly said that it was with the King, which probably wasn’t a secret.

Anders didn’t know what that would be about. If he was supposed to pass messages to the front, then he was going to have to be most careful about how he did it. Then, if he laid on the floor as he spoke the spell, he couldn’t fall down when he passed out. It would hurt, but that was just a thing to be moved past, if it was required of him.

His mother nodded, her face a bit more guarded than he was used to noticing from her. As if she were hiding things from him. That or others around them. Slowly, eating for a bit first, more slowly than he was, since his plate was emptying quickly, she nodded. It wasn’t a happy seeming thing, just matter of fact.

“I imagine that many will want to visit with you, now. Word has spread in the night and this morning, in all places inside the castle proper and even outside of it. About you having aided those falling to the red fever as you have. It is... Well, frankly, some are considering it a true marvel. A sign that you might not be a mere boy, at all. Master Tolan has assured them that you are not ridden by a dark beast, or other unclean thing. Still, there is talk. Mainly in the court and attending areas. The servants aren’t looking at it that way at all.” She grinned then and, a bit inappropriately, nudged her son on the arm with her elbow. “They are all pointing out that you are, clearly, just Anders. One of us, no matter your current strange behavior.”

She smirked a bit at the words, as if they were strange, in and of themselves.

That was probably the simple truth of the matter. After all, the lowest in the castle and, he had to imagine, outside of it, probably feared magic as a rule. It was strange to them, so was considered a danger. They would also be leery of a man in armor or one armed with a sword. Anders saw that kind of thing regularly and still felt a slight twinge of fear when suddenly confronted by an armed man, himself. That he didn’t react so much, when seeing those who used magic was, he knew, due to the fact that he was personally friendly with most of them in the castle.

Those few he wasn’t close to, tended to be rather specific in their use of their powers. Like Countess Rainly and her coven of witches. They mainly worked to control the weather, he thought. A thing which was interesting to consider. They worked in a group of, he thought, four. They also could influence things at some distance from themselves, if he had that right. There was a limit, but it was far more than ten paces. How they did it was, he had to assume, the true secret of their talents.

Still, that was done in the local area, not at hundreds of miles away from their target. It also took them days of work, casting spells, to make it happen. At least that was what he’d heard. That kind of thing, taking a long time to make magical effects take place was normal, really. He was the one being odd, working in a style that allowed almost instant results like he was.

Then, Countess Rainly wasn’t falling on her face, trying to do her type of magic. Not that he’d ever heard of. She also didn’t walk around sucking in air like she was running, even as she sat in a sturdy chair. At the moment she should be in her bed, of course. Resting and healing from her fever. She was fresh into it, like Princess Mathia was, so would need his attentions for a while. Perhaps longer than seven days.

Many of the servants wouldn’t. When Anders had been dying, it had taken only one night of Farad making his brain reduce in swelling to rescue him. He tightened his face then, which his mother responded to by looking around. As if a threat might be present.

“Is there issue here?” She spoke gently, her voice soft, but nearly sweet sounding.

“Only in that it just occurred to me that I over-stepped in what was needed for the healing. I linked the spells to myself for a week each, when most of the people probably only needed a day or so of aid that way. I...” He shook his head, since the answer there was clear. He could simply redo the spells and reset the time on them.

That hadn’t been part of his training, but it was clear that magic often followed the instructions it was set. The idea that he couldn’t simply alter parts of it, even as it worked, was likely an artificial limitation. Really, it hadn’t come up for him at all, before that moment. Still, there was no harm in holding things for a while, to ensure people were comfortable and truly healing, before setting them free that way.

Part of him wanted to test his new theory out right then, since he was a bit uncomfortable, but that was lacking in what would be needed to protect his friends. Some of them, like the Countess, Princess Mathia and Alice Cook, the serving woman, would need to be aided for some time. Most of the rest should only require a day or two from him. Sir Daniel was probably almost well, from the worst of the symptoms at least.

That was strange, since he was clearly the one who had been closest to true death the night before. He shrugged then.

“Well, I should be able to release some that I’ve aided, in the next day or two. They have already mainly healed themselves, so it won’t be a problem for them. They’ll still need to rest.” That part was going to be hard to get them to do, he knew. He certainly hadn’t done that, after getting out of his death bed at any rate.

It was odd, because his Mother didn’t seem to get how much of a relief that would be for him. Even holding only half the spells active would be much easier on him. He tried to work out a plan for that, restating the spells, so they could be let go of, before the time factor strictly ran out.

Really, what he needed for that was a new spell word. One that would let him identify a specific set of work, then let go of it, without interrupting anything else. That could be seen to later, of course.

Smiling at his Mother, he tried to be a bit more polite, not speaking about himself alone.

“What news do you have?” It was a common enough thing to be spoken of at table. Then, he was relatively certain that was mainly done by the spies.

She ate several bites of food, doing it rather delicately, using a knife and fork constantly, as he was doing. It wasn’t always her habit, for the low meals like they were enjoying at the moment. A thing that she was doing absently enough to indicate that it was probably due to long held habit for her. Meaning that, when she’d eaten with her fingers at meals with him, she’d probably been showing solidarity, instead of what she was used to doing. Then, much of the time she ate her evening meal at court, which required far finer skills that way.

Her voice was relaxed then.

“I hear that there are grain shortages. The Yansians burned portions of our summer harvest. In return we did the same to their people, along the border, to hold those resources from them. We’re entering the brutal portion of the war, or so word has it from those who understand such things. Also, Countess Rainly took ill with the red fever. Some think it might have been an assassination attempt. There... Honestly, there are some real indicators that it’s true. What word do you have on that?”

Anders grimaced a bit, not wanting to speak about those he was working with, not having their direct permission. Still, Lyse was his mother, so he was required to. Interestingly, Anders figured that simply saying nothing to her that way would be fine. It was the older man inside that called for him to attend to her wishes. That was, in part, down to having come from a very different culture.

“She is doing better. Her breathing is clear and there is no signal of fever. She’s still with the illness however, so needs to stay away from those who might catch such things.” There was no swelling in her brain, either, so she wasn’t going to die from the disease. Not now.

Anders shrugged.

“Hopefully whoever set that in motion, if it is a thing, understands not to come at me in retaliation for thwarting them. That would be unfortunate, if they tried such a thing.” Anders was attempting to be calm about the idea, even though he felt a tickle of fear inside over it.

Instead it came out sounding as if anyone trying such an importune thing would simply die. Several people around them stiffened then.

Lyse didn’t, simply chuckling a little.

“Oh, I can see that would be the case. On top of the obvious reasons, a man that fights illness so well is far too valuable to risk to games of power or intrigue. I’m certain none would try you. Not for those reasons. Now, are you prepared to ride, or will this new occupation prevent that?”

He shook his head, slightly.

“It won’t. I’m also not truly ready yet. I have a wagon, but need some oxen to pull it. I also don’t know if I have the lend of horses for the trip yet. I could walk, or ride in the wagon, I suppose. Baron Kilroy suggested that I have time to learn how to drive such a thing, so I might do that.” It would still be good to have the horses, since he could travel faster that way, if the need arose. Even he understood that oxen, while sturdy and hardy weren’t the fastest mounts one could have.

The words got a nod, at least, which seemed happy enough.

“I’ve heard of that. I, personally, don’t have need of anything going in that direction. Would you be willing to take some things to people there? Some missives and such. Perhaps small comforts and tokens? We could arrange for a small fee for it. A few have asked after such things, last night. You’re my son, so they naturally sought me out for that. I didn’t suggest that they seek you directly, not knowing the plan that way.”

Anders could see that as reasonable, so grinned. It left his right cheek in pain. That was a bit swollen, in a knot where he’d hit the floor. The bruising would probably be attractive and well colored at least, once the days passed enough for that.

“I’ll measure the wagon after my meeting and then work up a chart for what will fit inside of it. Baron Kilroy has already spoken for part of the space.” That was limited, of course. Still, there would be room for some small things, along with his own gear, if he were careful and planned well enough.

The words got him patted on the arm. Then, silently, they both went back to eating.

Chapter four

There were two guards on the door to Prince Robarts’ office. The carvings on the wood behind them were almost totally hidden, they were standing so close together. They wore the standard gray uniform and held spears in their hands, crossed in front of the door. As Anders approached, he slowed to a stop, his breath coming a bit harder, due to the brisk pace he’d walked at, trying to get to the location in a timely fashion.

Before one of the men, both of whom he recognized by name, could growl at him to go away, he spoke, bowing, using first courtly. That got their attention, at least.

“Anders Brolly. My presence was requested?”

Before either of the guards could turn to knock on the door, or announce him, the heavy thing opened, pulling inward.

The blond man who tucked his head out nodded at him. Prince Robarts looked pleasant enough, at least. It probably indicated that Anders wasn’t in too much trouble at the moment. He could actually see how he might be. His job of the moment, other than learning to be a decent fletcher and make bows, was to pass messages for the King. His overreaching could, potentially, make that more difficult to do.

“We’re in here for the day, Anders. Thank you for coming.”

That was enough for the men to pull the spears to the side, leaving just enough room for him to pass through, if he turned sideways a bit. A thing that, having seen it twice now, he realized was about showing them as being good at their jobs. After all, him being made to twist around wasn’t protecting the King at all. It might control the flow of bodies, if there was more than just him, but if that were needed, the men would probably have to start stabbing people, so standing too close wouldn’t be helpful at all.

Inside the room were several people. Prince Robarts moved back behind his desk, which was a rich looking thing made of polished wood. There were scrollwork carvings along the sides and front that faced him. The others there were sitting in comfortable looking padded chairs. The seats were leather, but the arms and legs were polished to match the desk.

There were books behind the Prince on a shelf, taking up most of the back wall and part of the left-hand side, stopping about three feet from the door. The man touched him on the shoulder and then waved toward a chair. His face seemed a bit concerned, suddenly.

“Here, sit. I’ve heard that you might be pushing yourself to near your limits for us. Thank you.” The man didn’t bow, or act as if he should do that first. He did, since the King was in the room. So were the other princes, along with Master Belford. The empty chair was near Prince Erold, across from King Mathias and Prince Alpert.

He used second courtly, which had the ruler waving at him, gently.

“Well met, Master Brolly. Are you well enough for this? We could do it at a better time?”

Anders actually grinned then and snorted a bit. It was hugely improper to do, in front of the King, but simply came out.

“I should be fine. The heavy breathing and light sweating aside. I should be able to release some of the healthier people this evening. I was thinking to look in on Sir Daniel and attempt it with him, first. He’s a strong man, even if weakened physically at the moment.” That seemed to be a simple truth.

Even the King nodded at the idea.

“Ah? You think that he’s well enough? I’d heard he was near dying.”

Anders was waved to the empty seat, so he put himself in it, Erold giving him a friendly glance as he did it. They all waited for him to answer though, since he’d been asked a question.

Anders took a deep breath, then looked at the King directly. He was a bit round, across the middle, but a large and imposing man, otherwise. No crown or anything ridiculous adorned him at the moment. His tunic was heavy looking. Well decorated, as well. Anders had put his gambeson on, hoping it would be considered appropriate enough. The whole place was a little chill at the moment. Nothing too harsh, but as in his room, the Prince hadn’t called for a fire to be started there, either.

“He was. I doubt he would be alive now, if he couldn’t be helped in time. The trick there is that you die from the effects of the disease, not the disease itself. He’s largely past that portion of things. If I let him go now, instead of holding an active set of spells over him, he shouldn’t get sick again.” He went on, since it was simpler to explain the whole thing, all at once. “Princess Mathia, Countess Rainly and a few others just took ill the other day. Alice Cook, as well. All of those need to be isolated for another six or seven days. They won’t feel sick, other than a rash and eating being difficult They are ill, however. Let them out and they might well spread things.”

The King blinked at him, then nodded.

“I understand. I’ll set guards to make certain they hold to your word in this. What of the others? The servants can return to their work soon?”

Anders tightened his face, since the man seemed to wish for that to happen. It was a poor plan to tell the King he couldn’t have his own way.

“Give them a week doing no more than half their normal duties? More than that if their efforts are highly physical. Other than that, then yes. I’ll look into people this evening and check on them, if that’s allowed.” It wasn’t really in question, but the other man nodded at him and then closed his eyes.

“Of course. We were set to hold ten funerals in the next weeks. Now it seems as if we might not have to have any at all. That’s impressive. What would you ask for, in return?”

The rest of the room went still then. Probably due to the fact that Anders, the boy, might ask for almost anything. Not the kingdom itself, but lands, titles, gold or even something insane, like women or even men, who could be sworn to him.

Instead of being a large problem that way, he simply let his mouth screw up at the edges.

“Would it be allowed to borrow the horses that I rode to Sapphire Lake, for this next trip? I’m planning to get some oxen, if I can, to pull my wagon, but I consider them friends and wouldn’t want to leave them standing in a boring field when they can be out seeing more interesting things.” He was jesting, which seemed to be noted by everyone there.

The King chuckled.

“That should be fine. Indeed, Robarts already marked them for you. That’s hardly a reward for your efforts here.”

Everyone stared at him then, which meant that he had to shake his head. The truth was that he didn’t know what to ask for. Gold was nice, but his needs were taken care of for the time being. Having great amounts of gold or silver would call more attention to him than was currently taking place. A thing which might not be important, but that he couldn’t risk getting worse.

Letting his face tighten, he shook his head then.

“We can’t let it be seen as if I’m getting special attention or gifts. Not even for this. Why not... Well, I’m Master Tolan’s apprentice, officially. We could credit him with it? That’s normal enough. Perhaps congratulate Depak Sona, for his efforts in aiding in my tutoring?”

Three men in the room frowned over the words. Only Prince Robarts agreed with him.

“That sounds like a good enough plan then, Anders. The activities will be noticed and credit given, using these others as a shield, so that suspicion isn’t cast upon you. Is... How are you holding up, under the weight of what Master Franken did to you?”

Everyone there seemed to get the idea, well enough. He wasn’t just Anders, the boy. A thing which he hadn’t been sharing with many, but all of these men understood.

“I’m doing well enough, that way, to be truthful. The part of me that was, and is, Anders Brolly is actually becoming far more motivated and interested in things. It was his work that made this gambeson, in fact.” A thing which was largely true. “Not that we aren’t mixed together, but Farad would have never even thought of the idea, on his own. There are a few things which are a bit uncomfortable. Mainly with women.” He smirked a bit at the idea.

Prince Alpert raised an eyebrow, while both the King and Erold nodded.

The youngest Prince waved at him then.

“Yes. Several have mentioned you to me, in passing, of late. Eltha Tennet, and Sweyn’s lady Sondra. A few others at court, as well. Not all of it seemed wholesome, either.”

King Mathias waved then.

“We have no aid for you there, other than some simple advice. Go carefully. A low born woman with your child will be happy with some coin and your attention. A high born one might well seek to control you and those around you, using such a thing. Not that you don’t have full right to marry where you will. You get some years before that is a concern for you though. Your birth season is in late winter, I believe?” He looked at Alpert then, but it was Master Belford who answered.

“The heart of mid-winter. That should give you three years before you need to marry, as a common man, Anders. Not that the ladies will wait that long to attract your attention. For now, it will be best not to engage with them too closely. That...” He shook his head, slowly. “You might not be given a choice, of course.”

The rest of the people in the room looked baffled by the words, but for once Anders understood, instantly.

“Yes, I can see that. Well, if I’m traveling, that will make me harder to find.” Not that he was worried about the idea too much at the moment. He was only twelve, at least in body. Women might try to play with him in a sexual fashion, to gain favor or interest, but they wouldn’t be honestly attempting to get married to him.

Not for several years.

The words got a nod from King Mathias.

“I was nearly set to not allow you to go to the lands far south. I know that you seek to find our enemy there. Are you ready to face him, do you think?” There was a quiet menace in his words. As if that were his desire as well.

“No. Not even close. I have much to learn and... I’m not certain a single person can defeat a force like we face. He has an army of sorts, already. Even without that, he is perhaps the greatest user of magic to have ever lived. It may be that cleverness will be what we need to use, instead of mere power or martial prowess. I...” He tightened his face again and looked away. “I’m not the one to do this thing, even in my anger. I was a historian, then a rather lazy boy with minimal education. Even with my new skills, I may never be a match for a wizard and blood mage who has practiced all forms of magic for over a thousand years. I don’t think I can catch up to him, in this race.”

The men there didn't look like they loved hearing his words. When Prince Robarts spoke, his voice sounded tired.

“It isn’t your place to have to remove him from the world, Anders. Even if Farad might feel that way, you aren’t him. He’s the memory of a man from long ago. You, as an individual, have no duty or requirement in that way. That you aid us in the current war is more than enough.” There was an artless shrug then. “Truly, even Farad Ibn Istel has no real call to fight this battle for us at all. His old student in learning about books and histories became a wicked mage, after the time of his own life. Certainly, I understand how he might feel on the matter. I would as well. That doesn’t place a command to action upon him, however.”

It was interesting, but Master Belford nodded, seeming a bit sad.

“Not that you shouldn’t aid us in dealing with him, if you can. I think the feeling here is merely that no one expects you, Anders Brolly, to personally ride out in the next months to face our foe for us.”

Rubbing at his forehead, a thing that Farad used to do when thinking, Anders finally had to nod.

“I understand. It’s just... He was my friend, once. I owe a duty there. To stop him, if he will not leave his current course.”

It was interesting, but everyone in the room looked at him as if he might just have gone insane. He reflected on his words, but they were clear and sensible, to him. To Farad. Inside, Anders felt baffled as well. Still, he wasn’t certain why that was. He waited then, wondering if there had been something unclear in his presentation.

King Mathias, finally, snorted.

“That is very different than how we would take the same thing, Master Brolly. To myself, perhaps all of us, a friend would be backed in what they are doing, even if it’s not strictly good. At least in the larger matters of life. Who to wed... Taking over the world by force... That sort of issue.” He waved a hand, as if saying that neither thing was all that important. There was a relaxed air to the matter, however, instead of a strange or harsh tension.

Anders smiled then.

“Ah? That is different then. In my old home... Well, things were different. You did back your friends, but in certain matters it might have to be your hand, or word, that turned them from the wrong path in life. Normally to save or protect them from greater harm. We cannot save Ganges, my old student. I cannot imagine that anyone so committed to a single plan, for so very long, would be sane any longer. Not in any fashion we could determine.”

Next to him, Erold shifted a bit.

“Perhaps. I agree though, it is not up to you, or even myself, to see to this. Not that we shouldn’t prepare ourselves, while we have time. I know you have some days off, but have you checked in with the Ambassadors? That’s your current task, after all. You don’t get out of it simply due to some servants finally doing their jobs. How did that happen, anyway? The last I’d heard only one man was willing to brave their hall, other than Anders and the guards.” He looked at his friend directly. His eyes a dark blue, instead of the lighter color that still reminded him too much of ice.

Anders shrugged.

“Daren Willet went in, then didn’t die or get himself turned into a dog. After a time, through his efforts, he managed to bring others in with him. A good man, Daren Willet. Ask anyone. Don’t you agree, Master Belford?” He was making conversation, but the man jumped on the point, rather firmly.

“Indeed. In fact, we should send him to attend you and Princess Aisla when you travel to her lands, Prince Alpert. He’s old enough to be an asset, and young enough to appreciate a bit of an adventure, even if the hardships of travel are involved. He’s also had a bit of knock, of late. His betrothed had to break her plans with him. The rumor is that she’s with another’s child, so it’s been difficult for him.”

Anders felt shocked, since he hadn’t even heard that Daren was making plans in that direction, much less the rest of it.

The King looked at the black-haired man, his own son, even if it wasn’t admitted to in public, and made a soft sound in his throat.

“One of our spies, then? You’ve been working with him?”

There was a soft smile then and a slightly wicked look from Master Belford.

“Yes. Anders sent him to me, for instruction. He seeks to raise his status in the world, without it being a drive that might be a danger to us. He is also, I hear, actually a good servant. At least the Ambassadors and their people speak of him in friendly and capable terms. Then, they practically gush on about you, Anders. We could send you in as a servant as well?”

There was, amazingly, a teasing tone to the words. Even if it made sense, really. He knew something of the basic tasks and would be there, after all.

“Certainly. That will have to be a less formal thing, however...”

Prince Alpert coughed then.

“Rather! Recall, Master Belford, we’re taking Anders into a land where, while not as high a position as it is here, he is a Prince at one remove. That’s an actual title there, by the way. I’d missed that, in speaking on the matter yesterday, until Aisla informed me that it was of some importance. We can’t be seen to be mistreating him.” There was a grin then. “Mainly due to the fact that they might not let him leave, if they think we aren’t kind. There was some mention of that, as well.”

There was a nod then, from King Mathias.

“I can see that. Still, we need the good will of Barquea now, more than ever, so must let you risk it. You mentioned to Robarts that you believe you can pass messages for us, even from that far off location? Is that correct, or did I misunderstand? That sounds... Advanced, to be honest.” The man examined him then, actually leaning toward him to do it. It wasn’t a large movement, but he caught it happening.

Rather than hedge, he simply nodded.

“That should be possible. I just need to know who to contact here. Before, I did that with Princess Aisla. I could work up a connection for any of you. Prince Erold would be a good person for that. Master Belford as well?” That made sense, given that Erold wouldn’t be afraid of his magic, coming from him as it did and Master Belford was familiar to him as well. Any of them would have worked at that point, save possibly the King. Even that wouldn’t take long for him to work out.

The ruler stared at him then.

“You don’t already have such connections worked out?”

He shook his head then, in response to the question.

“Captain Horner, Princess Aisla, my mother Lady Lyse, Depak Sona, Master Tolan... That’s it, so far. Well, the bucket in Depak Sona’s room, of course. It was used for practice. He’s horrible at passing messages so far, though. Very good at holding water, so don’t think too poorly of him.”

“Hmm. Very well then. If you both would allow this? Master Belford?” There was no direct questioning of whether or not Erold would be doing it, even if he looked a bit white around the edges, suddenly. That was a thing he’d get over, quickly enough.

There was a sour look then, or it seemed like it was that.

“That... Anyone in this circle would have much of our battle plans in their own person. If captured...”

Everyone looked away then, except for Anders. Farad had the old tales for this matter, after all.

“If taken by the enemy, you’ll have to try to kill yourself, to keep those matters secret. Well, or escape before they can force you to talk. The same goes for you, Prince Erold. On the good side, we can use that as a reason to keep both of you here. Really, we should send Erold for a tour of the front first, so that no one thinks him a coward, then set that up.” He glanced at the others then and shrugged. “That would serve for all of you. I know that the Princes ride to war, when it comes, but we can’t afford to lose anyone to a random arrow or errant sword blow right now. Not if this turns out to be as vast as it seems it might be.” He was just speaking his mind.

This time he was growled at. By Erold.

“I won’t neglect my duty again. I was just to be married, the last time, so couldn’t go with you. Hiding away in the castle...” He frowned. A thing that seemed almost angry. “There is talk already that I might be too weak or fearful.”

Farad smiled. A thing that felt ancient, no matter how it looked to these others. He’d had students, after all, if not children of his body. Many of them had expressed such things like that to him, at various times, over the course of his life. That the worst thing about being a keeper of times story was that others thought them weak, or afraid of life.

“Ignorant fools might say such, but none who know you.”

The King nodded though and stroked his bare chin.

“That is wisdom. Still, you mentioned having him ride out first. We could send him with you, Master Brolly? There is no real need of it, but your presence there will be noted, which is perhaps, enough, for the time being. Then, later, if you must ride, we can simply not let you have any of the current information for some months first. What do you think, Robarts? That could work for you as well.”

The older Prince laughed then.

“That... isn’t a poor idea. This caravan leaves in five days? I’m not packed for it.”

The King simply clapped.

“There we go, you three shall go, collect the information that is needed and return as rapidly as possible. We can sell it as bolstering the troops. Why don’t you go and make ready, Erold? We should be able to let you go as well, Master Brolly. Let us oldsters work in peace for a moment, without all your youthful carrying on and shouting.” There was a wave, which had Anders standing, still breathing just a bit hard.

Then, that wasn’t going to stop until he lessened the load on himself, magically speaking.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed, using second courtly, his right foot sliding back, as he bent low over a quarter bent lead leg. It was uncomfortable, but looked good enough, when he’d seen others doing it. There was a nod from the man, as Prince Erold stood and bobbed a bit in place. The move. Or lack of a proper bow to the King, got a frown from Master Belford. No comment came, however.

There was a wave from the Prince, as Anders backed out of the room. The spearmen at the door opening enough to let him out without touching, as he moved backwards. It took some skill on their part, given that they didn’t turn around to look at him coming. They used the sides of their eyes. That and the fact that Prince Erold had walked through first. He was given a wider space than Anders was.

After turning around, walking normally, his friend fell in beside him, almost instantly.

“This is fun then! I hadn’t thought to be allowed to do anything until next spring, if at all. Will it be dangerous, do you think?”

The other man sounded young suddenly. Filled with excitement and vigor. It wasn’t a horrible thing, so Anders didn’t do a lot to try and scare him or anything.

“We’re heading to the front, so, yes. The last time I was there it was, anyway. We’ll need to hide who you are, at least in your clothing and all that. Just enough so that the enemy won’t know to capture you. Robarts is... We should dye his hair or something like that. Capturing the Heir would be too good for them not to put everything into trying.”

Given that, it was foolish to send the other man. They could handle it however. He was going to need to free up some magical energy first, however, in order to get anything like that done. It would mainly just need to be an alteration of clothing and perhaps hair color. There was no reason that he couldn’t do that, he realized. Really, he simply needed to be able to note hair as separate from the skin or other materials around what was being changed. He wouldn’t even require a word for hair itself. Not just to change its coloration.

“I’ll handle that part. Do you have armor and weapons?”

That got a nod. A fairly happy seeming one.

“I do. Are we expected to see combat, do you think?”

He thought for a second, then shrugged.

“Honestly? Almost certainly. Probably not on the trip out, though we need to be watchful then. Bandits are a thing and keeping supplies from the troops is a time-honored tactic of war. Once there, we’ll be on the front. Even if you’re held back with Robarts in some remote camp, it’s still a dangerous position.” He added that part, not to tease, but to get the boy ready for the realities of what he was going into.

There was a smirk then.

“We’re going to order Robarts to hide in safety while we go to the front, proper?”

He grinned then.

“It will probably work about as well as what I just tried with you, but yes, if we can. Now... I need to do some work before late meal. You’ll join me in the low hall for that?”

They’d been friends for their entire lives. Anders had been at the high late meal once in that time. Prince Erold had been to the low hall not even once. In fact, he wasn’t certain that the other boy knew where it was, even.

His friend didn't even bat an eyelash.

“I’ll be there. See you then.” There was a nod that was nearly as polite as he’d given the King, his father, before the young man moved off down the hallway, headed deeper into the castle. Toward the halls where Anders didn’t go. Not often. He would need to check in on Princess Mathia in a few days, but for the time being, unless sought out, there was no real reason for that to happen.

What he did need to see to in the moment was simpler than that. A single word that would allow him to release any spell he indicated. He picked a word, almost at random. Rotha. By the time he got to his room, he had a basic sigil, which was a single, broken line, and a feeling for it, which was the mental image of a magical tingle fading away.

He still had to drive it into his memory, in a way that his very soul would breathe it, in a single utterance. The fastest way to do that was, naturally, to slow down. To spend time on the images, sounds and feelings that created the magical construct. To that end he entered the hall of magic, in his mind. A plain black tunnel, marked with a glowing haze at the front. A place he entered so often that when he closed his eyes he found himself floating in front of it.

Once inside he had to move past all of the other sigils, the words coming to him as he passed them. At the end, he created there a stone pedestal, then formed the broken line over it. Floating in air, as if by magic. Then he caused it to glow, a bright red, the feeling of magic fading happening over and over again as he looked at it. Knowing, deeply, that it would remove any spell indicated.

Inside he whispered one word, a hundred times. A thousand.

“Rotha.”

Then, when he had it and it was locked into place, he moved back, letting himself forget the word, the sigil and the sense of it. Then moved in and did it again.

Repeating it all, knowing, as deeply as possible, what he wanted, indeed, what he required, the word to do for him.

After a little more than an hour, still in a trance state, not noticing his breathing at all, he rose, moving to his feet, and walked, seeking Sir Daniel, the knight. He was already in a trance, so simply focused on the man, listening in the silence for his location. The magic didn’t take him to the man’s room at all, but rather outside, where he found the very fellow, dressed in armor, doing his own gasping, as he worked against another man, who was in similar style. They were behind the horse barns, the stables, working where prying eyes wouldn’t easily see them.

He simply waited, unnoticed for a long while. Sir Daniel was clearly too weak to be doing what he was. It was obvious, since Sir Humphrey kept yelling that at him.

“You’re like a newborn babe, Sir Daniel! I mean that, too. Your blows barely even connect with me.” The man didn’t sound happy to be saying it, but the words still came. The sick man kept going though, exchanging blows, and working hard. There was a bit of gasping, but it came from both shining suits of armor, not just the one.

Finally, after some minutes, they stopped, with Sir Humphrey noticing he was there.

“Master Brolly! Have you come to cuff this one here on the ear for not staying abed?” He wasn’t being teasing at all. He actually felt that his friend needed to be resting.

Which was probably true. At the very least, he needed to be doing a bit less than swinging a sword around against a knight in full armor.

“Nothing like that. I need to check on his progress and see if he can handle being out of the effect of my spells now. It should work, but just in case, I thought to try it on him first, instead of any of the servants.”

The ill man, looking gaunt and pale, removed his helmet then. His mouth was set, though he didn’t seem angry. It was more of a thing a child might do when caught stealing an extra biscuit after the meal.

“As punishment for escaping my room? There were guards. I bribed them. It wasn’t truly their fault, given that.”

Farad and Anders both disagreed with that, except that Sir Daniel just needed rest, not to be kept prisoner. At least he was almost certain that would be the case.

“Not as a punishment. I should be able to set half of you free now, without the symptoms coming back. I figured to try you first, because you’re the strongest of them, inside. The others might be fearful and panic if they start to feel ill again. We’ll start with the fever spell, since, if you get too hot, you’ll just be a little uncomfortable for a few minutes.” Not that he wasn’t hot already. His face was covered with sweat.

There was a nod of understanding, so Anders didn’t wait, just doing the work right there, behind the stable. The brown building was clean on the outside, but there was a constant cacophony from inside.

“Fevren neg rotha-fen.” He pointed at the correct knight, and monitored the spell, to make sure the correct one released.

One of them did, which he could tell. There was a lack, after a few moments, leaving two objects that weren’t there, yet which he could feel, over the knight. Then he stood there for a bit, finally nodding.

“Well, you didn’t suddenly burst into flames from the returned fever. Let me...”

He did the other two, with breathing going first. Then he stood there, waiting. The other men did as well, with Sir Daniel fidgeting a bit.

“Are you suddenly uncomfortable?”

The fellow sighed.

“It’s not sudden. This armor feels ridiculously heavy. I’m shaking like a leaf, and no offense, Sir Humphrey, but it isn’t in proper fear of you. I wager that I can’t ride out with you in the next days. It’s shameful to be this weak.” There was a feeling of true misery over that fact, which Anders could feel. Along with the shaking the man was doing.

Anders shrugged at the idea, which got him glared at by Sir Daniel. He let the younger man speak first, however.

“You can ride out, but you’ll be at a disadvantage for the first two or three weeks if anything happens. Be mentally prepared for that. Rest as you can and make certain you have enough food for your healing needs. Now, if this is working, I need to go and find some of the other people, who don’t really need my aid anymore. Good. I’ll see you at the late meal?” He meant Sir Humphrey, but Sir Daniel grimaced and then nodded.

“I don’t truly wish to eat, but I’ll be there. In the high hall?”

Rather than explain himself, he shook his head.

“The low. We’re working over the meal, so be prepared for that.” Then he walked away, wondering what he meant. It was clear that it felt correct, but he didn’t understand why he’d said the words. Leaving prevented questioning, so he used that old trick and made his way back inside. His breathing almost normal again.

The servants were easier to find and all seemed to do well after releasing them from his constant efforts. Not all of them were let go, since some were still sick. Alice Cook actually looked at him when he walked in, her face still ruddy from the rash, a bit of a sassy expression on her lips.

“Everyone else gets to go out, but I’m literally under guard? What did I do to you to make you hate me, Anders?” She was about seventeen, and oval of face, with a long nose and a gap between her teeth. It wasn’t the best look for a woman in the world, but also wasn’t the worst.

He waved that away, smiling at her.

“It isn’t everyone and it’s just a matter of timing. You have to wait seven days after you started showing the illness, or else it can spread. You know that. How are you feeling, other than as if your freedom has been curtailed?”

She mock glared at him, then shrugged.

“Fine. I’m without fever and that awful headache is gone. I’m all over red, of course. I’ll be well enough. I wouldn’t go and make anyone else sick though. I feel horrible that I gave it to Countess Rainly. I didn’t know what was wrong and I was asked to take a tray to her from the kitchen, then stay until she finished with it. That was a bit strange.”

Anders could see that as being odd, actually.

“Oh? Who asked you to provide that level of service?”

The girl, who was sitting up, wearing night clothes, but who was also under two thick blankets, just stared at him for a moment. As if he were being dense.

“It was Lady Harriet. Why do you ask? She just wanted to make certain that the Countess got what she was due. That was what she said anyway. A good friend, don’t you think? No one has ever done that kind of thing for me.”

That got him to grin, suddenly, even as he drove the name into his memory. Lady Harriet.

“Haven’t they? Why just today the King himself placed two guards in the hallway here, just for you. By name, too. He didn’t put them there for someone else, or everyone, just for Alice Cook. That has to trump one mere serving woman being forced to cool her heels for an hour. Plus, you got to have Wedra looking out for you and the others. Some people didn’t have anyone at all.” That fact was kind of sad, really.

Sir Daniel probably would have been attended to more closely if he would have asked, but requesting aid was too weak for him. So he’d suffered in silence, nearly dying from it.

That got a grimace, instead of a proper smile.

“I suppose that’s true. You came to help me, too. All of us. Even before the Countess and the other high folk. That’s something, isn’t it? I should learn magic. Then I could do more than serve food and clean floors for the rest of my life.”

That was probably true enough, really.

“You’ll need to be tested then. Send a note to Depak Sona, in a week, and see if he can tell if you have the basic ability or not. Then you’ll have to find people to train you, but if you don’t ask, no one is going to make that real for you.”

For some reason, the girl in bed froze.

“I can’t just send letters to high folk like that!” There was white around her eyes then.

Anders locked eyes with her, from where he was standing by the open door. That way the guards could make certain he wasn’t taking advantage of the woman in her sick bed. He made a point of not looking away before she did.

“Can’t you? It’s a note. Tell him that Anders suggested magical testing for you, since you’re interested. Then, if you have it, ask if he’ll help you find training. Really, send a note about the topic to Master Belford first, so he can guide you in penmanship and what to say. If you want great things, you must be prepared to do mighty tasks.” The girl rolled her eyes at him, which he could see her doing. After all, he was a small boy, telling her about grand truths.

After that he needed to find the other ill people, which meant he could let two of them go, spell wise. Not Countess Rainly, who actually was willing to see him, even if she was in her bed, without any makeup on her face at all. That meant her age was showing. She was around five decades or so, though it could be less than that. Unlike Alice, the lady was actually decently attractive, under her rash. That was a bit odd, since day to day, when they’d met before, she was less attractive than she was at the moment. As if she downplayed her own looks for some reason.

That, or someone else did it for her.

“Good afternoon, Countess. Are you feeling well today?”

The woman placed both hands in front of her, on the light blue sheet that covered her. There was a small fire in the hearth, and the room had heavy tapestries over all the walls, to help maintain the heat.

“I am! Thanks to you, Master Brolly. Now, what may I do for you, this fine day?”

He smiled, holding the trance he was in, feeling her thoughts as he spoke. She was merely being pleasant, but seemed mildly impressed with him. That wasn’t just because of his nice new gambeson, either. Under that, she was going over who might want her dead. She was aware that Lady Harriet had sent the girl, Alice Cook, to stand in the room with her, which would have infected her.

If she hadn’t already been ill at that time. She suspected her own coven for that. A conspiracy, designed to get her out of the way, so one of the others could take her place.

“You could tell me, who does your makeup, day to day?”

She looked baffled for a moment.

“Lady Martya. Why do you ask?” She seemed baffled by the words, since young men didn’t generally concern themselves with that kind of thing. “Do you think she infected me? She regularly touches me, so had access that way. It would take great skill to do that and not infect herself at the same time, but I’ve heard of such being done.”

That got him to shake his head.

“It isn’t that, though I’ll go and check on her that way, just to be certain. It’s simply that...” He looked away then, since there was no way for him to share the idea without sounding like he was being flirtatious.

“You normally wear a lot of makeup, in the court style, but it makes you look less attractive than you are underneath it. By enough that it is either to your own plan, or hers. If it’s that last one, you might ask her to stop? I don’t want to stir trouble, since she’s a friend of my mother’s and polite to me when we meet, but it’s there.” He tensed, getting ready for anger.

Instead the woman waved the idea away.

“I know. That started last spring. Just before you fell ill. I rather gained the favor of a man at court that she was trying to groom for her spying games. That made her job harder and she hasn’t forgiven me for it yet. Not even after he went back to his own keep like he did, after our dalliance. It’s not a major issue. The truth is, even making me look a bit unattractive, her work with a brush is still rather finer than the next person I can get for the task by far. So I suffer, for now, until she forgets and decides to like me again.” She waved at her bed then, to show her condition. “I have to imagine that this will be enough to gain her favor again. She isn’t a mean woman, after all.”

Anders thought for a moment then, holding his trance state. He could tell she meant her words well enough. Standing there, he looked at Martya, and went over her feelings on the matter of the Countess. Then, after a few moments, he blinked.

“Sorry, I’m in a light trance and tried to read Lady Martya on the subject. Did I say anything?” He couldn’t recall, to be honest. A thing that left him feeling uneasy. His entire life, one of them, had been spent in dedicated service to memory. The lack of it, even for a moment, was disconcerting.

The woman laughed.

“You did! I asked questions when you froze, recognizing the condition from Master Tolan. Martya is clear. So is Queen Maura and Princess Aisla. Princess Peri, the King, all the princes and your own Mother. Even my own coven is clear, though it’s clear that Lady Harriet was trying to infect me, using that poor serving girl. Still, that means my prime suspects are all gone now. Well, then I guess I need to look at who else might be involved here. Would you be willing to work with me on that, Master Brolly? I can make up a list of those most likely to have done such and have you check them for me. I... Wasn’t aware you were learned in the wizard’s art as well as that of the magician. That’s most amazing. Didn’t you just start learning a few months back?”

He nodded then, simply being honest, if not totally so.

“I did. I have a good memory, which has aided me, in some of this. I might be of some aid to your project, but I’m due to leave in a few days, for the border with Yanse.” He stopped then. “And no, you can’t come, even if you are feeling better. There. I don’t like to give orders like that, but the last two people I’ve spoken on the topic have insisted on going along. Sorry about that. Sir Daniel was nearly dead last night and is already complaining that his weakened condition is shameful. Before you spread rumors, he’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever even heard of. He’s going to the front with the caravan, to guard it for the kingdom, not days from the state he was in. It’s... Impressive.” That was damning it with faint praise, but the Lady simply nodded at him.

“One doesn’t become a knight if they are of weak character. You’ll help me, though? Even if it’s simply to clear everyone, it would be a boon. I can pay for the service. Some small token, for your time, perhaps? Or... Other things, when I’m well?”

He snorted at her then, sounding like a thousand-year-old man might.

“The King himself just told me to ignore such offers for now, not three hours ago. I have to decline, given that, even if you are attractive. At least under the rash. That will go away, in about a week. Then you’ll be back to your normal, lovely, self.”

He bowed then, and backed out of the chamber, which wasn’t hard, being he was almost standing in the doorway to begin with, since there was no lady present to guard the Countess from him. The guard in the hallway was down a way, so as to not easily overhear what was going on, or see in, in case his examination required the woman to doff her shift. He hadn’t needed to request such things of course. He probably wouldn’t, unless he was asked to treat wounds, after a battle.

It would be less than entertaining, no doubt. Except that a woman with a bloody wound didn’t sound that interesting either, even without clothing. In that, both Farad and Anders found agreement. The boy portion wasn’t that enthused with the flirting that had taken place with the old woman. Farad simply couldn’t see her as all that aged.

It was a matter of perspective, of course. The child saw a single wrinkle and thought the grave must be near. The ancient historian saw a few character marks and thought of his own life as a young man of only fifty. There had been few women in it. Some, in the audiences he spoke to, recounting the tales of old, several nights per week. They had been allowed to attend, but it was frowned upon. Women were valued, but the historians had been a rather monastic society, which meant that bringing in distraction or temptation was kept to a minimum.

It had probably skewed his idea of their place in the world, to be truthful.

Having some time before the meal, and not gasping constantly now, he considered going back to his room, in order to find a useful project to work on. Instead, he headed toward the ambassador’s hallway and headed toward the rooms of Depak Sona.

He knocked gently, in case the fellow didn’t want to be disturbed. His voice called out, almost instantly.

“Enter, if you please!”

He did please, so did as requested. He bowed, going low, using first courtly.

“I should have come to visit earlier. I was too busy hiding from you, so it got in the way.” He was trying to be charming, and did get a smile in return.

“Oh? Did you do something wrong? I can’t think of any other reason to hide from me.”

Anders nodded.

“I over-extended. Even after your warnings to be careful that way. Trying to help all of the sick people here. I set all the spells for a week each, and well, there were nearly fifty of them, by the time I was finished.”

The man snorted then.

“You seem fine. You worked out how to end a spell, then?”

“I did. I only released those who were at the end of the illness, since it shouldn’t come back. I’ll need to check in on them all but they didn't instantly collapse or return to collective fiery brows.” Not that he waited all that long, with most of them.

There were raised eyebrows then. Followed by a look that seemed a bit strange.

“How many spells are you holding presently, if I may ask?”

He had to count them up, but knew after a moment.

“Twenty-two. They aren’t highly powerful or anything, thank goodness. I would have died, if that had happened. Or, well, passed out again.” He touched his right cheek, to show what he meant. “No one even bothered to beat me for my foolishness. I did it to myself.”

Depak Sona waved for him to take a chair at the table. He had letters in front of him, but didn’t bother to cover or hide them. Then, Anders wasn’t going to read them, so it was probably fair.

“Lesson learned, then? At a low price, if all you had was an uncomfortable few hours and a minor bruise. It took me far longer to come to peace with the idea that there were things I simply couldn’t do.”

Snorting a bit, Anders looked away.

“I doubt I’ve truly learned it. I need to, clearly. I have the start of the lesson, if nothing else. Taught to the side of my face, as a reminder not to be so lazy in the future. Hopefully, that will be enough. As it stands, I need to work out how to make some mail armor still. I have this, at least.” He patted the gambeson, which got a smile from the magician across from him.

“Very good. Well done, in fact. I can’t tell that it wasn’t made by a master crafts person. Working in metal is harder than doing anything else, except stone, as far as manipulating it. Both are worth learning to do, however. Go slowly and work in small parts. A mile is walked one step at a time, so too, can you learn to shape hard things.” There was a tone of great wisdom to the words, as well as practical information that he was going to need. At least if he didn’t want to pass out again.

Looking up at the man, who was at least a foot taller than he was, while standing, Anders tried to think of why he was there.

“Oh, would you like to have the late meal with myself and others? In the low hall. We’re going to be going over the coming trip to the front. Some things have changed.” He nearly didn't mention what, but decided that it was information that couldn’t be easily hidden at the castle anyway. “Both Prince Robarts and Prince Erold are slated to go on the journey with us. I gather it’s needed, so they look strong and brave, later. A tradition here, sending the princes to war. There is no doubt that they are good, strong and brave, but I’d rather it not be known that they are traveling with us. I was thinking we could change their hair color and...” He shrugged then. “We can’t do too much, since that might offend their persons. Different clothing, perhaps? Colors that aren’t those of the King and his family? It won’t be all the time, of course. It’s one thing to suggest going under some form of disguise, so that those in the caravan won’t work too hard serving them instead of seeing to their real duties. Another to have them actually hide from the enemy.” Even if that last part was Ander’s true goal. He didn’t say the words, not knowing if Depak would be able to understand was he was actually saying.

The old man, who from all reports was well over a hundred years, for all he looked to be a fit and hearty fifty or less, nodded. Again, there was a wise quality to it.

“I understand your desire here. The truth is though, that being too careful with princes leads to poor kings, later. You must not hold their hands or guard them so closely that they lack an understanding of the real dangers and hardships of war. More, you have a duty to them, to ensure no one else does that either. It sounds like King Mathias is doing his duty to them in this way, already. The same for yourself, in fact.” There was a grim look then. A hard thing that seemed almost as if he were fearful, which wasn’t the way of the man, in the main.

Then he locked gazes with Anders for a long moment.

“I know that he does not wish to place you in such danger. We have spoken on the topic several times, with him taking the side of keeping you here, in comfort and safety. That luxury cannot be allowed, to one such as you, Master Brolly. It is not fair, or even good, perhaps, but we are facing a war that might be the greatest the world has ever seen. As one who would guide you, I must place you in situations where you are not cloistered from the facts and hardships of the world. Even if you should not be expected to face battle for many years, in a proper fashion. Another boy your age would merely train, but you are already powerful in many ways. Leaving you without the needed lessons would be a failure, on both my part and that of your King.”

Anders nodded, seeing the point of it, even while not loving the idea. Interestingly, the boy within was the one that wanted to protect the others, at least as much as the old man could see the need for it. It was the younger portion that was emotional about the idea. Even as he also understood the point that Master Depak was making. A man would grow weak, if he did not constantly challenge himself to greater things. That was known.

He smiled then, which had to look grim.

“Still, I intend to keep myself and them as safe as I may. I’ll simply have to do it while seeming like I’m not. That will be simple and pleasant, I’m certain. Well, I can have them both start by eating my cooking. I doubt that the caravan will have dedicated people for that. I’ll need to get food in, as well as bring my gear for it and make sure my spices and herbs are still good. They should be. Things like that keep. Anyway, I’m off to the late meal in a bit, if you’d like to join us? It’s also fine if you want me to stand on my own in this.”

The older man narrowed his eyes at Anders then. His face serious.

“I’d be pleased to attend. I’ll meet you there in... Call it half a glass?” The man looked off to the side, even though there was no sand glass there at all. It wasn’t a common way to refer to time in Istlan. They had time pieces that were wound and had gears inside. Anders and Farad had seen such things, but didn’t own one either. They were very precious, he didn’t doubt.

Still, he meant half an hour, which worked well enough. Getting to his feet, feeling the ease of normal breathing again, he bowed.

“Thank you, Ambassador Depak. I look forward to your presence there.” He bowed himself out of the room, even if it was silly looking. It truly was the custom there, if you were on official business. He normally didn’t bother with it, but it gave the whole thing a feeling of greater reality, somehow.

Then, walking quickly, without truly running, he headed back to his own room, nearly tripping on a lumpy sack that had been placed on the floor, inside his door. It clanked nicely when his foot hit it. The top was tied, but only loosely, so, after closing his door tightly, he could peer in and see a collection of metal bits. Most of them were clearly cast offs from other projects. Bits of steel that were about the size of his right hand and nearly as thick, or smaller.

“Perfect.” He hoped so anyway.

True, it might have turned out to be easier to work from riveted mail that was already close to what he wanted, but this would allow him to start from a point that might well be workable in the field, if he learned the skill well enough. It was tempting to try it right then, since he had nearly half an hour before he had to run off to the meal.

Sighing, he cleaned his clothing instead, combed his slightly unruly hair without seeing it and then changed the color of his trousers and gambeson, to a deep green. The kind of colors that would be needed on the trail. That was mainly to show that he understood such matters and wouldn’t dress himself in bright red and white the whole time.

It was possible that no one would actually notice it being done.

After that, he walked slowly to the low hall, since walking too quickly would have him there before it was time for the meal. He needed to be near the first there, without sitting and waiting for too long, since that might be perceived as impatience. It was already strange for him to plan any sort of meeting and rarely were such things done over a meal. It did happen. He’d seen it before, so that was a known thing in the low hall. There would be listeners of course, but again, he doubted that he’d be able to hide much about two of the princes leaving. There would likely be rumors about it taking place already.

Still, he truly was the first one there, which meant that Senna Grace, his cooking tutor, waved him over to the side table, which was being filled with large trays and a giant black serving caldron. There was a stack of plates and silver at the far end, as well.

“Anders! There you are. I had word that you’re to be given the week off, before you go back to the war? Do they need a boy cook that badly?” She clucked at him a little. Pretending that he wasn’t more than merely that.

He nodded, since it was part of his current plans.

“I need to make food for the knights and some others. Twelve in all, I think, including myself. I’ll have to get some provisions for it and plan out what to have. I sort of figured that the part about what to eat would simply be an order, most of the time, but it looks like I’m the one in command of that for this trip.” He grinned then. “Plus, I have some people to meet, on the other end. I’m taking some gifts around and all that, since the caravan is already going. Gifts from other people, I mean.” He didn't know the generals and their people yet, after all.

There was a swat, to his shoulder. A thing that wasn’t too hard. She glanced at his face, where the bruise was, and looked away. Probably assuming someone had beaten him.

That got him to smile and shake his head, then touch the right area.

“I... You heard about the bit of healing work I’ve been doing?”

She went wide eyed and nodded at him, as several others in the background did the same.

“I have. It’s fitting though... since you’re one of us castle folk.”

He nodded back then.

“Exactly. Still, I pushed a bit too hard and this morning when I was practicing the summoning of water out of the air, I went dark and ended up catching myself by the face on the floor of my room. That’s less than ideal. I was simply doing too much at once. There are limits to the magic a single person can hold. It’s a bit like running, really. After a while you get tired. Thankfully, about half those who fell ill are much improved now. This is a lot easier, with only ten people needing my attention that way.” It was actually eleven, but that was the kind of point that would seem like bragging, which he wasn’t doing at all.

Senna Grace batted him on the arm again.

“So, cooking for Knights and fine types? We’ll need to arrange something nicer than what soldiers would be getting. You know the basics of what to do for that, of course. You should probably have an assistant, for that many... Normally it wouldn’t be needed, but you’ll make fewer mistakes if you don’t have to carry all the water and tend the fire alone.”

He nodded.

“I have someone in mind for that, actually. I’ll bring it up. Thank you, Senna. I should go to the table soon, I’m expecting some people to join me, as strange as that sounds.”

She waved to the far end of the table, which was nearly settled, meaning that he moved through, taking what he wanted, before anyone else was there. He started to eat as soon as he sat, being half starved, like he was. Then he planned out how to say what he needed.

By the time people started to arrive, he had something of a plan. It wasn’t a great one, but it would be a good enough starting point. If it wasn’t, Anders was certain that given who was there, he’d be hearing all about it.

Chapter five

When Prince Erold got to the low hall, seeming a bit out of place, standing in the doorway, Anders hopped up and moved over to him. There were others at the table already, including several knights that he didn’t even have a name for. They simply hadn’t traveled in the same circles for the most part. No one turned to see who was there, since people would be coming in for nearly two hours.

Waving, he got the Prince to come to him, instead of having to move that far away from the serving tables. Not that a servant or two wouldn’t dash over to try and serve someone that highly ranked, no matter where they sat at the hall. Unless they nipped that idea before it could flower.

“This way. Grab a plate and some silver, and then take what you want, food wise. I know it isn’t the fine dining you’re used to, but it’s going to be a lot worse on the trail and probably past that once we make it to the front.” He was hinting that the man shouldn’t complain about the quality of the meal presented. That it was his job, as a leader, or a potential one, to make certain no one else suffered the annoyance of having him around.

A thing that Anders knew he needed to ensure for himself as well. After all it was a bother to take a young boy along on a vital mission. Even if not major, getting food and supplies to the front truly was that. Important. Enough that failing in their duty might well impact the entire outcome of the war they were in.

Erold simply nodded. Between the two of them, Anders and the pampered youngest Prince, the important one had always been the more sensible.

“This is more than enough, I’m certain. Let me see here. These all look like very fine selections.” He didn’t go stiff or let himself seem put out as he walked down the line. He did try to take mainly meat, bread and a bit of cheese. Two scoops of greens with one of bitters were slipped into place as well. Not by the Prince, either.

Anders got a sour expression for his trouble, but the things weren’t served to be tasty. They had medicinal value. Once they were on the road, they needed to be regular and as healthy as possible. They all required that basic state to move at a good pace each day.

He looked at the taller young man then. There were only a few inches difference between them, but he still had to look upward.

“Eat those. Part of your task each day will be identifying and harvesting greens, bitters and herbs as we go, if at all possible. Hunting as well, if we can get it done and still make good time. Then, you’re in as my cooking assistant for the trip out and possibly once we get there.” He shrugged then. “I don’t know what all that will entail yet, so ready yourself. I’ll teach you what to look for, as far as edibles go.” His face felt oddly hard.

Then, he half expected the other boy to hit him, if playfully. Possibly jesting about the tasks, instead of setting himself to do something that humble. It was, after all, a bit like suggesting he care for the animals in their care himself.

Holding his ceramic plate carefully, he turned, not on the smaller boy, who was suddenly being commanding of him, against all sense or balance, just to find where they were sitting.

“All right. I don’t have any skills that way at all. I’ll do my best, if that’s my place in this. A bit of a shame, I just laid all my armor out. I have a fine mail and some tough leather gloves I was planning to bring.” He chuckled at the idea that they might not be needed for a cook’s assistant.

“Bring those, as well, then. You’ll need to keep them on most of the time. It won’t be comfortable, but this is a real war we’re riding into.” Then Anders moved back toward the correct table. “I’m glad you’re willing to try. I half expected crying and carrying on about how you needed to be in command of the whole thing.”

The words were spoken as they closed with the table, which was actually three of the things pressed together, to show that they were all there in a unified group. Across the room, several others he knew sat and watched then, pretending they weren’t. It wasn’t as if anything said in that hall wouldn’t be listened to and noted by many of them. Even his own mother glanced over, hearing him, and carefully not making eye contact with her own son.

Then, she could just find him later and ask about what was said.

Lady Martya, who sat near her, smiled and waved in his direction, however. He did that back, since they were known to one another. It would be rude not to. It meant that Erold nudged him a little as they settled, and elbow catching his ribs on purpose.

“Now that’s different, isn’t it? Are you entertaining Lady Martya? Hmm?” Several of the others looked at him sharply then, each with a different expression on their faces. It was interesting to see who was doing what that way.

Several of the knights seemed to find the very question amusing. Sir Daniel looked annoyed, which could be due to feeling ill over the scent of food in the room, and Sir Humphrey tightened his lips, disapproving of the whole thing being brought up, when they should have been working.

Depak Sona went blank, as if it might be true, but it wasn’t his place to tell anyone else what to do with their lives and relationships.

Master Belford was directly next to Baron Kilroy, directly across from himself and the Prince, having joined them, even if it hadn’t been to Ander’s plan for the day. Not that it was inappropriate. After all, Master Belford tutored both himself and Erold. It was well within his rights in that capacity to set tasks for them while they were gone. Even to insist on going himself. The Baron being there didn’t make any sense at all. Then, Farad had to figure he was, most likely, the court assassin.

That didn’t fit with the task at hand, if true.

He simply nudged the Prince, a thing close enough to being a blow that the boy exhaled a bit at the contact. He grinned though, getting it as a rebuke.

“Hardly that. Believe it or not, most of the women around here don’t have time for little boys in their lives. Those that do have exclusively sought me out for magical aid. Lady Martya just found out that I was set to lessons in courtly flirtation, so seeks to help me learn them. I can’t prove it, but I’m nearly certain that either my mother or Master Belford put her up to it, to test me.”

Interestingly, Baron Kilroy covered his mouth, hiding a smile. Then the man lied, backing his words up, instantly.

“She told me it was her own idea. You have the right of it however, it’s not ill intentioned, merely her own attempt to arm you against the life of the castle proper. Not all lessons are best learned from a book. At any rate, you were just informing the Prince of your travel plans?”

It might not have been true about Lady Martya, but Anders smiled then, gently. The deflection into the direction of work was welcome. Even if they were eating as they did it.

“Right. We’re handling the wagon and going to be cooking. That’s for us, I think. The knights and guards going? That should be twelve in all?” He looked at Sir Humphrey, since he was in charge of that portion of things.

There was a cough from the reddish haired man then.

“Ten knights, but we’re a man down on that...” He glanced around, then shrugged. “I... The King has ordered Prince Robarts to travel with us. He’s a knight, but has never been on a guard detail. He’s a veteran fighter, from the last war, some fourteen years ago. A Prince, so I don’t know what we can count on him for, that way, on the road.”

Anders tightened his face, then nodded.

“You can count on him to do his duty, like everyone else.” He sucked in air then and smiled, feeling a bit ill suddenly. “I’ll go and speak to him on the topic, so he understands the lay of it. Are we traveling with squires and such?”

That got Sir Humphrey to sit straighter.

“I hadn’t thought we would. Still, we’re heading toward the front and while the duty at hand is important, it’s a fairly low risk situation. We can do that. I think it would add five to the work? On the good side, we can put them toward cooking for us and making the camp up, each night.” There was a look at the other men there, all of whom seemed unimpressed with the whole thing, as if it was normal to ride in the direction of battle.

They would need food and supplies for more than that then, for... That was a thing he didn’t really know.

“Do we have an estimated travel time? I moved that way with the foot a few months back, then returned with wounded, but that isn’t a pack train or caravan. The stories all speak of those being a good bit slower, don’t they?”

Sir Daniel, still seeming white and a bit weak, cleared his throat.

“It will be nearly three weeks, going this way. Ten to fifteen miles a day, instead of fifteen to twenty that the Army requires of its men on the march. That’s provided the weather holds, of course and that the roads haven’t been ruined for wagon passage by all the military traffic on them. There’s been some rain, given the season, which can make that difficult. Not too bad for horse, if the road isn’t gone to mud. Wagons needs smooth, flat roads, or they’ll keep breaking on us.”

Anders nodded then.

“So even more food will be needed. I have a wagon, but no oxen to pull it yet. Sir Daniel, can you drive a wagon?”

Those words got a sour look.

“Aye. I can. We all can...” He seemed to feel like Anders was about to order him to ride the whole time.

“Good, you can teach me how to do it. If you will. It shouldn’t take me weeks to learn how, or anything. I hope. I’ll try to have some spells ready, to repair carts and wagons. Other things as well.” He winced then, since that could be energy intensive. Depak Sona simply nodded at the words.

“That is a good idea, when going toward danger. Also working with damaged weapons and armor. You have those skills already?”

Anders had to shake his head, grinning.

“Not even close. I’ll be attempting to work in mail after the meal and haven’t thought past that, to be honest. Working in plate or other metal fixtures. I will be doing so, however, as you suggested, Master Depak. Healing and treating wounds as well. I overstepped my abilities in what I’ve done lately, I fear. I’m blaming being young and foolish for that one. I need to make a list of what to see to first.”

One of the other knights, a man he recognized as Sir Reginald, who was distinctive, having a long scar across his face, which was silver and bisected his nose, and eye, miraculously having left the brown thing under it intact, with a nice black beard, waved toward him then. Just to gain his attention.

“In battle the important thing is generally weapons. Between battles, really. If you can repair chipped edges, broken blades and damaged spears, that would be the best use of your time. Armor is a thing to worry about after the battle. Bows too, I don’t doubt. You’re also a fletcher and bowyer? You could do full time work on just that, once battles start. Add the rest of this and you’ll never sleep, even using magic for it.”

That got a laugh, from most of the people there.

Anders just grimaced.

“I know. The big limitation is my own lack of training and knowledge there, as well as personal energy. I refuse to use certain other techniques, which will limit what I can do. I might be able to scout the road head for dangers, as we ride, though. That doesn’t take as much power and I need the practice.” He probably couldn’t do that and drive a wagon, of course. Not if he wanted to stay on the road.

He wasn’t able to use the wizard’s arts with his eyes open very well yet.

Sir Humphrey, piece of crusty bread in hand, nodded.

“So, cooking, driving a wagon and magical scouting will be your part, Master Brolly. Some hunting as well? That might be hard to do, given the noise of a wagon caravan.”

Which was simply the truth. Still, he’d done it before, and the army wasn’t silent as they marched.

“If possible, to supplement the food, as we can. We’ll have Prince Erold on that, acting as guard, instead of doing magic, if it’s needed.” He sounded oddly authoritarian then, as if anyone there should listen to him.

It was a thing that he hadn’t thought about for a long time, but he’d been more or less the oldest of the historians for nearly three decades. People had deferred to him, due to that and his presumed wisdom. Now he looked like and was, a young boy, still acting the same way, once it came time to plan.

Sir Humphrey simply nodded at the words, either taking them as meant or not caring, as long as the idea behind them was sound enough.

“Good. Don’t over step on the magic. Caravanners are a hardy lot, compared to most peasants and low merchants, but there’s no need to push them that way.”

Instead of glaring, to back up his words, the large, rather muscular man looked down the table.

“Sir Daniel, you’ll be working with Brolly and Prince Erold for the first days, to make certain they can drive the wagon well. Then, if you can, we need you to ride guard. At that point, guarding Master Brolly will be your duty, along with the others, Prince Erold. He has to do part of the magic in a trance, so you’ll collect the information and deliver it to me, directly, at need.” He ate for a while longer, then went on.

Looking at Depak Sona.

“Do you see anything magically related that I’m missing, Master Depak?”

The man shook his head, then spoke words that were slightly against that move.

“Not truly. Only that, while Anders must hide his efforts, as you said, he also needs to practice them, daily. Setting duties that way is fair. Managing one’s energy is not the same as holding it all in reserve, constantly. There is a balancing that needs to be done, for one to attain mastery. So do not fear asking him to do such repairs or cleaning as needed. It will be up to him not to strive past what is needed.”

The man very carefully didn’t look over at Anders as he said the words.

Which made sense. The knight simply nodded in return.

“Understood. Good, so we have full magical back up. Now, we need to go over the duty roster. That won’t be hard, since once we hit the road, we’re all going to be on task constantly. We need a night watch on the camp though.”

It was interesting, but given the time of year, since they had nearly eleven hours of night, they were working that, guarding everything, in three separate watches. Everyone going with them would be on one of them, including Anders and both princes. All the squires as well.

He didn’t know who most of the people were, but he memorized who was going to be on which watch. He was on the first, with Erold being on the last. The middle guard was the worst one, they were all assured, since the men doing that one had to sleep fast at the front, get up for four hours, then try to rapidly get more rest for the same amount of time before morning came. The last and first watches, just got to rest, before and after their duty.

No one groaned at hearing they had the worst part of it, however. Then, knights wouldn’t. They had literal oaths to keep that prevented them from failing in their duty, whatever that was in the moment.

They didn’t stop there, going over the entire planned route, which required a map being pulled out. Anders memorized it, or rather, had it in his head already and simply traced out the path being taken. They were on side roads in a few places, instead of the main one, due to weather conditions possibly being a factor. It was the kind of thing that he could check on, he thought. Not that he volunteered that information. He’d been in all of the needed areas before, but he wasn’t so certain he had the needed skills to cover things that far away, to the level they’d need done.

Still, doing the work and drawing out a map of potential hazards should be possible, if he was careful and managed his time as was proper to the task. As long as he could recall what he saw, while in a deep trance. That, the failure of his memory in that state, bothered him for a moment. Then he stood, since everyone else was doing that, Sir Humphrey suggesting they probably had what they needed, for a while.

He was walking out of the room, with Prince Erold right beside him, when he was tapped on the shoulder. Anders turned, a bit shocked, since that almost never happened to him. People just started speaking, instead of tapping him like had happened.

It wasn’t hard or anything, and the face, when he turned, had a polite enough smile on it. The man was a true grey beard, with a large bald spot on the top of his head, a thin body and while taller than Anders, he didn’t tower over him, or the Prince. He was identifiable, however, being the Court Alchemist, Tag Seness. A man that Anders had spoken to, many times, in his duties of passing messages. The man had even trusted him to make a few deliveries, from time to time.

Which got him to smile at the older fellow.

“Master Seness. Do you need something delivered?”

Prince Erold stiffened then, as if that kind of duty was beneath his friend. Even now, when he had other things to see to, it wasn’t. After all, an alchemist might have to see to things that prevented him from running things to all and sundry. Chemicals could explode if left too long, he thought. Not that he had great knowledge of that particular art. Some works in his head about the topic, but those were over a millennia out of date.

The man smiled at him, and then nodded.

“Indeed, Anders. Though it’s in the direction you’re going, already, so might not be too great of a burden, I hope? I’d heard there might be some room left in your wagon? These are tinctures and powders, mainly needed to prevent infection for the troops. To prevent foot rot and the loosening illness. About three fairly large barrels worth?” He held his hands up to show what he meant.

He had to think about things, what space was going to be left, but so far no one had really confirmed what they were sending, except for Baron Kilroy. Those were boxes of wine, but barrels could be packed toward the back, near the passenger’s side of the front bench. Then smaller things packed around them.

A lot of what was spoken of would be food and of course, blankets, for men at the front. Letters from home and such not, from the town, no doubt. He wasn’t planning to check them all, but would need a sack, or better three, for the things to be placed in. Some few extra heavy sacks to carry things he collected, as well.

“I think I can make that fit. We’ll start packing the day before we head out. That’s in four days, for loading. Is that acceptable for you? I don’t know where we’ll be staging that, as of yet.” The barrels would probably be heavy, after all. An old man, or a young boy, might not be strong enough to carry them a mile, if it was required.

“I can use magic to float them to the needed location, if it comes to that. Though if I can get close enough to the castle that might make things simpler for a lot of people.”

The man nodded and bowed then, using first courtly. That was returned, with Erold bending his head enough to show he was there, if not part of the process of the moment.

“Thank you for the consideration. Now, as for payment? These aren’t gifts for the generals or their high captains, just something for everyone.” The fellow spoke as if that wasn’t good enough. Anders simply smiled.

“We’ll just deliver it to the generals and suggest that it’s a prize for them to have, since it will keep their men healthier, which is true, so it won’t be a lie even. That will dispose of a need to pay for transportation. You must have some investment in the materials and work already.”

That got the older man to snort a bit.

“True. Mainly in effort. The vintner gave me some old barrels in exchange for some elements that are useful in the making of fine spirits. In all, I’m not losing much in this, and truly, keeping the troops healthier now, means that there will be less to do later, when they return.” There was a more somber look then and a nod. “I noticed you did some fine work with those stricken in recent days with the red fever. That was and remains, incredible work. I don’t think anyone truly appreciates the skill that you’re showing in doing what you have. Not yet. In my whole life I’ve met only two or three healers that would have approached the same level. Are you considering going into that as your main focus?” The words were suddenly hard, as if Anders had better be thinking about that.

He shook his head though.

“I haven’t been thinking of that at all, for the time being. I’m to learn more of that kind of thing, of course, as part of my lessons, but I haven’t settled on a job, as of yet. For right now I’m mainly passing messages and making deliveries. That and working on fletching and bow making. Do you have need of a bow?” There was a smile then and the man waved the idea away.

“The fighting arts of the alchemist are very different than those of the bowman. Or weapons mage, come to that. Thank you for the offer, however, Master Brolly. Your other efforts as well. I’ll have those barrels packed and ready to transport shortly, to stand to your schedule and needs.”

They bowed again, and the man left, heading back into the meal.

As they walked away, Prince Erold chuckled.

“I thought for a moment that he was planning to have you passing potions and creams to court ladies all night. I know that you don’t love doing that kind of thing.”

Anders shrugged, understanding what his friend was getting at. He let him keep thinking what he was, even if it had never been the truth. Anders the boy hadn’t been bothered by making deliveries. It wasn’t hard or uncomfortable. It was simply that he’d enjoyed doing other things more, so had skipped out on what he was supposed to be doing.

In short, he’d been lazy and not concerned with the needs of others, not avoiding a difficult task or one that he feared to fail at.

Rather than point out that, since it would make him look bad, Farad waved to his friend.

“It isn’t as if I could get out of it, if that was needed. Master Seness is the Master Alchemist of the Court. Also, a good sort. Even when running things around was my main task, he made a point of making certain I could get to meals on time and sleep at night, instead of being at the task to all hours.” Truly, that was most people there, but not all.

More than once, even Anders, the worst of the message boys, had missed meals, making complicated deliveries to people, standing at their doors, to ensure personal passing of a message, while they were off eating.

The Prince gave a nod to the words.

“It’s impressive, him sending things for the care of the men there at the front like that. Now, if I don’t have to start learning to identify plants as of yet, I should get to my nightly chores. You now, where I go to the court and sit there, with my wife.” He looked sideways, then shook his head a bit. “Sweyn is nice enough, but our ways are very different here. I think she’s struggling with some things. I would be as well, if we were in her homeland. Remember to make time for a meeting with her, before we go. She asks after you, almost daily.”

There was a pat on the shoulder and then the other man walked away. Leaving Anders to head to his own room, finally able to get to the making of mail, if he could manage it. That task, it turned out, was a lot harder to manage than he’d figured.

The instant he pointed at the metal, naming it, and suggesting it turn into rings of mail where he outlined, he had to fight to hold to consciousness. The process worked, the metal shifting, drawing out and filling the desired space, the rings solid and with a fine inner diameter. Still, he’d only tried for a small patch of the stuff, meaning that warping a four by four-inch section of mail was a very high energy process. More so even than making something explode or setting it on fire, which it didn’t seem like it should be to him.

“Good thing you didn’t start with stone, then. So, what if I slow the whole thing down. Instead of doing this all now, what if I made less, over the course of an hour?”

He needed to create a new word to get the process to work, which meant that he ended up working until the small hours of the morning. He did manage to have a fine coat of mail however, that fit over his gambeson, by the time he laid down in the blackness of the night.

Anders forced himself up at first light, since he wanted to have that habit when they were on the road. He dreaded it, but cleaned up, washing and emptying his chamber pot, flinging the waste out into the early light, making it travel a good quarter mile away. It was without control, but he was able to aim at a hill in the distance well enough. Anything smaller would have been missed, totally. At least by him. Depak Sona had managed well enough flinging fire at him however, so it could be done. He just needed to work out how and then practice enough so he could do the same sort of thing.

Then he recolored his gambeson, since it was cool out that day, and after some thought, made a second coat of mail, needing the practice. That one was sized to match the example that Sir Humphrey had lent him. Then, because it had gone faster, and felt easier, lacking the whole nearly blacking out portion of things, he made a second long mail coat, near the same size, in case anyone needed one. Or, of course, in case General Nesmith had it destroyed, in testing. That was a thing he needed to see to, before trusting his life to the work. It looked good, but that didn’t mean it was armor quality.

So, carrying two gambesons, and two decently heavy mail shirts draped over his left arm, he moved off to find Sir Humphrey’s room, to return the things. He was wearing his own armor then, with his leather belt around it. That kept trying to slip, which probably meant he was going to need to learn to make buckles as well. Having a heavy belt clearly helped, since it allowed him to carry part of the weight of the metal on his hips, sharing the load with his shoulders.

He didn’t know which room would be Sir Humphries, but, as it turned out, he didn’t need to. The man himself dressed in about the same kind of armor that Anders was, even if that was odd inside the castle if you weren’t a guard. Those men had more on, since they wore metal helms as well, when at their duty stations. The man stopped and looked at him when he nodded.

“You look in fine stead there, Brolly. That mail is... May I?” He held a hand out, to touch it, but waited for permission.

Anders nodded.

“Here, I made one for you that should fit. If not, I can change the size, easily enough. I have another, for that testing General Nesmith mentioned. That’s a good idea. Testing it.”

The man took the mail, which was resting on the top, looked at it and stroked it. Then, rather brutally, he grabbed one side of it and pulled so hard that it had to be cutting his hands, or nearly so.

There was a grunt then, followed by a smile.

“Ha! So, the first test passed. Low quality mail can’t hold to that. Not from me. This...” He examined it and his nose twitched a bit before he spoke. It made his mustache move. “This shows no sign of me having done anything at all. Not even a single stretched link. That’s a good sign. I’ll get with the general and set a time for that test. If he can’t make it, we’ll do it anyway. Now, this is more than I lent you.”

Anders shrugged.

“I needed the practice, plus, it’s partial payment for the loan.”

He bowed then, using first courtly. It was harder to do, being in armor like he was.

The other man did a partial bow in return, his hand loaded.

“Thank you for the consideration. I should get some for my squire. If it passes the testing, of course. He’s going to outgrow the set he has soon.”

Anders nodded.

“Would it be possible to do that later tonight? After the testing, if possible. I need to get into town too, if I can.” Which meant getting with Master Tolan, who was holding his coin for him. Hopefully that hadn’t been spent on other projects yet. Technically it was his, being war booty, but masters owned the labor of their apprentices, which could mean that it was gone or wouldn’t be given to him. If that was the case, he was going to have to scramble to get animals in place to pull his cart. Really, it could be withheld, just to force him to find another way to get things done.

It would be a good lesson, but he wasn’t going to mention that to Master Tolan, since he didn’t really need more to do at the moment.

Anders thought for a few seconds, then shrugged.

“Um... I need to do some things, so passing a message might not be easily done today. Would it be allowed for me to find you and where I’m supposed to be to meet you, at various times? I can do it so I won’t get any other information from you. Really, I’d have to try to do more than that, so... It’s magic, though.” Also, the man would have to trust him not to find out things he didn’t want known, like his true opinion of Anders.

“Do it. When we meet, bring expendable examples of that mail and your gambeson. You can do that?” There was close look then, as if he was asking for too much.

“I can. I have the materials needed and should be able to find time. I need another gambeson. That will take me about half an hour to make. Less than that, but you know, I need to make it look nice as well, so I don’t look poor.”

That got the other man to simply agree.

“An important thing, here at court. Good then. I’ll see you then.”

The fellow walked away with purpose, heading in the opposite direction than he had when Anders had stopped him. Probably so he could put the new and returned gear away, before seeing to his day.

Without knowing if it was proper at all, given the early time of day, Anders moved to Master Tolan’s tower room. The hall guard, dressed all in gray, nodded at him.

“Brolly.”

“Hello. I need to speak to Master Tolan, but I don’t know if he’s awake for the day. Which...” He shrugged and closed his eyes, falling into a trance and then moving to the idea of Master Tolan. When he touched the man, who was awake, he sensed that there was an awareness of his presence.

So he moved from that state and took a deep breath.

“He should know I’m coming now. I have to beg for coin, so if you hear stern shouting and sounds of crying, you’ll know why.” It was a jest.

A thing that the guard didn’t respond to at all.

“Understood. Best luck then, in getting that.”

The room itself was on the second floor of the tower, which was one of the coveted spaces at the castle. They were large and had a certain pride of place to them, even if they weren’t special in any other fashion. That Master Tolan had one simply meant the man was valued there.

At the correct door, Anders tapped three times, which had the door opened almost instantly, as if the other man had been waiting for him on the other side of it.

“Anders! Come in. What may I do for you this day?”

Looking down, then into the room the man lived in, which had a bed behind screens on the far portion of it, a sitting area, and a desk with several chairs, including a very large one that was covered in pillows and fabric, Anders cleared his throat.

“Gold. Possibly silver. I don’t know about that kind of thing, to be honest. How to spend coin like that? I’ve never really handled it. I need to purchase two oxen and then food for nearly twenty people, three week’s worth. I don’t know if I have enough in that little sack of it your holding for me. Or if that might be needed for other work.” He managed to sound humble enough, which was fine, given he truly was out of his depths there.

Master Tolan smiled.

“Hmm. Well, you have more than enough for just that. It isn’t a true fortune, but I wager you’ll be on your way to it, once you sell the armor that you took in battle.” The man looked at him then, mainly his mail shirt and nodded. “You made this? It’s fresh. I can feel the magic all over it. The workmanship is fine, as well. Excellent, I’d wager. It certainly looks good, if nothing else.”

Anders took a breath then, feeling slightly nervous about what was to come, later in the day.

“Sir Humphrey and possibly some others are planning a test of it. I made more. I need another cloth armor shirt, but I can go do that now. After I get the coin. I... Should probably take someone with me for that, who knowns how to use that kind of thing.” It sounded strange, but growing up in the castle, Anders had never actually dealt with that kind of thing.

Farad hadn’t either, since it simply wasn’t used in his prior life. Not for a monastic historian. People had simply given him things, in return for his work and saw to his care. Meaning he was nearly totally unprepared for the real world in that fashion now.

Toland stood straighter.

“Very well. We should do that directly after the morning meal? I’m in with the King and his family for that. I don’t know if I can bring a guest. One moment?” The man left the room then, and didn’t return for some ten minutes. When he did, he was smiling.

“King Mathias would love for you to attend the meal, as it turns out, Master Brolly. We should go now?” There was a relaxed sense of urgency in the words, probably meaning that asking about him going had, nearly, made the other man late.

Which, Anders had to allow, wasn’t a good thing to do, with the King being involved. Still, he headed for the door, a heavy, no doubt fortified, piece of equipment meant to hold up to attack or siege, and closed it. All such things in the higher portions of the castle, where the great folk lived, had extremely strong looking hinges and some form of lock on the door, at least from the inside. Anders room didn’t even have a bar on it.

Meaning that, if they were ever attacked there, he was either expected to not be in his room, hiding, or he was just supposed to die. That no one cared for him at that level was a bit annoying, to the boy within, but Farad actually figured it differently than that. The boy was probably expected to have been elsewhere, totally. A thing which would be coming soon, he didn’t doubt.

There were no other children there, other than those of the servants and while they had quarters and places there, only a few of those even existed. There were, out of several hundred people that lived and worked in the great stone keep, only ten to fifteen people youthful enough to be counted as children any longer. When he thought of those, only one of them hadn’t really worked, until recently. Even Prince Erold and Princess Mathia no doubt had lessons and work of some kind, other than making the odd delivery.

Normally, someone like him wouldn’t have been at the castle at all, or, if he was, his mother would have stayed with him. Lyse, however, had never done that sort of thing. At least not that Anders could recall. So, he’d been stored away from her, in what was basically a servant’s room. One for those high enough to be valued, but it wasn’t a sign of anything more than that.

They moved at a quick walk, but it wasn’t a half run, and were at the dining room that the King and Queen used in the mornings. This day, when he walked into the room, there weren’t that many people there, and no one had a plate in front of them, as yet. At the head of the table, King Mathias held up his right hand, and smiled, in a friendly enough fashion.

“Master Brolly! Good morning. Please, come and join us. I’ve missed you at court, over the last days.” It was a very odd thing to say. A strange one, that sounded completely normal. No one at the table was unknown to him, so it wasn’t meant to impress them with his assumed, and false, importance.

He settled where the King pointed, placing him near the Queen. Directly next to her, in fact. A place far too high up the table for any sort of normal occurrence. As he sat, he bowed his head, having forgotten to bow formally at all. That was the shock of the words, he didn’t doubt. His eyes closing, he dropped into a trance. Trying to first feel the meaning of what the King was saying, then noticing a horrible buzzing of magic, coming from behind him.

Feeling the shape, that of a person, he nodded. It was a woman, he thought. One behind a warping that was so powerful he couldn’t physically see her. At least he hadn’t when going into the room. There was no sense of malice from the form, in particular. Just observation. Everyone else in the room knew that there were spies about, having had warning. He hadn’t, in particular, but then, he wasn’t supposed to be at the morning meal like he was at the moment.

Eyes still closed, he nodded, then smiled, so everyone could see it. Except the magical spy that stood behind them. The feeling of the room was that they wanted to spread disinformation. Things that seemed real, without giving away things that would be advantageous to the enemy.

The form itself, once he noticed it, wasn’t that big. Smaller than he was, in fact. A woman as well. He wasn’t certain, but his guess, based on the feeling from her, was that it would be Mistress Colm, the herb woman. If so, then herbs were a lot more powerful than he’d been told, because she was totally invisible at the moment.

If it was her and he wasn’t simply maligning a good woman, based on fear or mere happenstance, then she already knew certain things about him. That he’d been working in magic and doing other lessons, as well as some light, but important, healing.

“Sorry about that, King Mathias. You know how it is, I had to go and play, then hide from work for a bit... It can be most taxing, doing things like that. Then, of course, wave my hands about and mutter ineffectually, as if I have real magic instead of just being a novice.” He waited then, since his words, normally, were casual enough that he would be scolded for talking to the King that way. Any King, he didn’t doubt.

This time, there was simply a chuckle from the head of the table, echoed by Prince Robarts.

It was the large heir, who tapped the table, absently, several times.

“That’s not what I’ve been hearing at all. We get you a whole week off and the closest you come to having fun is sleeping. I see you have new mail? A nice gambeson under it as well... Really, that’s nicer than any I’ve seen, in a long while. Who did the work on it?”

Down the table, speaking in a pleasant voice, General Nesmith joined in, even if the question wasn’t for him. Probably trying to steer both Anders and the Prince to a topic line that was in the secret plans.

“Master Brolly made it, using magic. That waving of hands he mentioned, no doubt. Sir Humphrey, myself and the master armorer are to meet after the mid-meal, behind the stables in the knights’ practice yard, to test it, and make sure of its quality. I have to say, the look is good. If it’s of standard or better quality, we might need to place Master Brolly to doing that full time. You made, what was it? Three soft armor and three solid linked mail long shirts in less than a week? In your spare time, as well. How many can you do if that’s your primary task, do you think?”

Anders blinked and then answered honestly.

“If I did nothing else and only did what I know how to do so far? About three sets per day. What I have already. It might not be that fast, since I’d need to measure everyone that was getting one, so... Call it two gambeson and two mail shirts? Provided I have the needed supplies, of course. That’s everything though.” Which was, as far as he knew, true enough. Without wooden staves, he couldn’t make any arrows at all. Without flour, there would be no bread.

It was a failure of such things, but if there was a way around it, no one had mentioned it to him at all. It was possible, using illusion, to make things appear to be there, when they weren’t. No one, even in the old histories, had ever mentioned it being at all possible to make something out of nothing. To transmute things from one form or shape to another, but not to simply create from the void, using nothing but magic.

Prince Alpert whistled then. A single long note that showed he was impressed, or at least was pretending to be. It wasn’t the kind of thing that Anders had ever heard of him doing, before that moment.

“In less than two months you could armor a hundred bowman in gear that the levies couldn’t afford. If you can make them bows and arrows in that time as well, you could raise your own force. Then, if you need an occupation, making any of those things in time of war or out of it would hold you in good stead. That, your healing work and other studies should be keeping you busy, for the time being, I’d have to say. You’re on the road, at week’s end?”

That was a known thing. Interestingly enough, the Prince had skipped the passing of messages using magic, totally. Everyone had spoken of armor, and there was a mention of healing, but not that. Which meant they were hiding it, even if the rumors he had something to do with that kind of thing were already out.

“Yes, Prince Alpert. Prince Robarts suggested that I occupy myself for a bit, in a way that will toughen my resolve, and prove my mettle. I would point out that I didn’t take that payment from your lady wife, or ask for it. It was mere courtly manners, Prince Robarts. On her part. I probably botched the whole thing, being too rude about it and turning her away without more niceties. Sorry.”

The man laughed then, his wife blushing prettily enough.

“So I heard. Don’t worry, I actually understand the situation there. On all fronts. What price has the life of a Princess? My child? That was some incredible work you did on Mathia. On everyone. Still, we’re at war and the Princes of Istlan ride out when war comes. While you can’t lay full claim to such a title, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the same responsibility, even if young.” There was a sigh then, which Anders didn’t see at all, his attention behind him as it was. The figure there didn’t move at all.

She was, very nearly, hidden even from the tricks of the wizard. At least to the point that he could use them. Master Toland would be more apt that way, of course. The other man was in a trance, but doing it with his eyes open. All of his attention was in the correct direction, of course. On the hidden spy.

The Heir went on then.

“Besides, I don’t want you to have to confront Baron Brolly, as of yet. After what he did, you’d probably have to kill him on sight. He’s a fool coming here, given that.” The man meant that part, it seemed. Both that he didn’t want Anders to have to do anything and when it came to a fight, he expected the other man, and his forces, to lose.

His mother had armed him there, suggesting that her father wouldn’t fight fair, if it came to it. Possibly, maybe even probably, acting before Anders would understand anything was going on at all.

Anders nodded, so that it would look right from the back and tried to make his voice strong, even if that wasn’t the way of a good trance. Normally people in them spoke in reedy or soft voices, and seemed a bit passive.

Farad Ibn Istel had been a keeper of time’s story, however. That meant learning to keep great works in his mind, but also to repeat them, perfectly, or nearly so, on command. So, he sounded a bit like he was reading a speech, but his words were strong and clear.

“I don’t recall that story and for some reason no one has ever informed me much about it. A bit, the other day, but that’s all. There is, perhaps, much about my own life, that I do not understand.” He winced then, in a deep and peaceful mental state or not.

After all, he sounded far too much like a crusty and slightly officious old historian at the moment.

King Mathias waved his right hand, signaling for food to be brought. A woman had come to the door, a cart with plates of food. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her presence. She seemed to be baffled to find little Anders sleeping at the table, or at least nodding off, but nothing else about her was amiss.

To that end, trying to hold the state he was in, he smiled, sat up and opened his eyes. Keeping all of his attention, or most of it, behind him. Watching the person who wasn’t there, closely. It took more effort doing it that way, of course.

Given everything, a wince and him sitting up and snapping his eyes open, it looked a bit like he’d jumped.

“Forgive me! I nearly fell asleep at the table. How rude of me.”

Queen Maura smiled at him, indulgently.

“The young need much sleep. We understand that you must be tired, working as you have been. Ah, the meal is here.” She didn’t reach over to pat him on the arm, but it was her natural instinct. Not in a way that would be inappropriate, either.

It was, simply, that he was the child of her son. What held her back was simply the protocols of the meal though, nothing more. That was placed in front of each of them by nicely dressed men, wearing fine gloves in white and black velvet outfits. Things that had bits of wear on them in places, while still seeming sharp. At least for servants.

When the serving man put the plate in front of him, there was a nudge from the man’s elbow. If they were calling a thing that nearly took him from his seat, making a sickening thud as it hit the side of his head a nudge, of course. Agorn wasn’t a person that he’d ever been friends with, not crossing paths with him much, but he was known to the man. The truth was that he didn’t truly care for the man, since he was the kind to go out of his way to be cross sounding or short, even if it wasn’t warranted.

Anders put his attention on the fellow, in case he saw or knew something that Anders was missing and had been trying to warn or alert him. It wasn’t that, though. The man merely thought that the bastard of the Prince should be more polite to the others there, so had sought, lightly, to punish him for, essentially, being himself. He would have liked to plunge knife into Anders heart, but didn’t think he could get away with it.

The boy within surged with anger that was so sudden and so hot, that Farad had to struggle, hard, to keep the man from being murdered right then and there. His right hand, in a fist, moved across his body, the correct mental work being done to make the man explode, as soon as the hand opened. Everything was being placed into it, as well.

Which was too much for the room they were in, even if he wanted to murder the man. Farad didn’t, not caring much what the other man thought about him. Even as the side of his own head ached from the blow. Truly, he needed to be a bit more polite and to the customs of the place, or it would be noted by the strange invisible spy that he was acting strangely.

So, barely, the old man pulled their hand back and pasted a smile on his face, the hot anger surging through him, influencing even his own thoughts on the matter. It was a struggle, but he pushed them back into a trance state, then rather carefully, didn’t think about Agorn at all.

That was difficult, with the man still being in the room like he was.

No one spoke much, until they had their plates, along with cups of tea to go with it. It was a dish that Anders had never seen before, which seemed to be bread of some sort, with a bright orange colored sauce on it, He ate carefully, using the best manners he could manage, while still observing the woman behind him. As he held his attention there, a strange thing happened.

She started to become clear to him. Not perfectly so, but enough that, even if she wasn’t visible to him, he knew that she was in a light blue dress, with gray at the top. She had a small knife, hidden in her skirt as well. It wasn’t being pulled or even thought about, it was simply there. Ready to be used, if needed. Then, slowly, a slight blur walked to the main door of the chamber, opened it, which went unnoticed by everyone except Master Tolan and himself, and left the room.

The old wizard looked at the door, then over at Anders, who’d finally let himself do the same thing, after it clicked. He could feel her moving away, into the castle at good speed. No doubt due to the fact that whatever had held her in a state of not being seen, it was failing her.

After half a moment, the man went slightly wide eyed.

“That was impressive. Did you get all of it, Anders? Master Brolly, I mean.” Tolan was still in a trance, so no one would hold that minor of a slip as being confrontational. Even if he was personally feeling ready to hunt down Agorn and end his days.

A thing that he couldn’t do. Rather, he might. He could, possibly, even get away with it. The fact was that the man had seen a boy, one that he probably didn’t hold in high esteem in the first place, acting comfortable with the King and his family, and had reacted as he might have to one of the servants who did the same thing.

With minor violence that wasn’t well meant, but that he could get away with. It wasn’t wholesome and good, but many in the world simply weren’t. Day to day they did their jobs and it was considered enough.

Slowly, still steaming inside, Anders the boy worked to school his mind, joining Farad in holding the trance. Trying to control himself. Like a true man of discipline and learning might have done.

Still, he shook his head a bit, his slightly too long blond hair moving from the motion. He needed to cut that, before going off to the front. Battle and war wasn’t the place for vanity. Plus, he truly and honestly didn’t want any of the lonely men there to get confused and think that he was a girl or woman. It was the kind of thing people made light of, but that kind of thing could and did, happen, in times of war. He didn’t think he looked that way, but it was hard to know what would pass with men that hadn’t had any company for some months in that way.

It was just another thing, in a list that didn’t seem to ever end that he needed to see to.

“I understood that someone was there, hidden by magic. Mistress Colm, the new herb woman, I think. Near the end, when her magic started to fade, I was aware of more. There was no sense of planned attack, though she was armed. Lightly, but I imagine that even a small knife when you can’t be seen would be a powerful tool.”

King Mathias looked at Master Tolan, sharply.

“Is that true? We have a name now?”

The weathered, but well shaved wizard nodded.

“I’m in concurrence. It is possible that magic was used to fool us both, so that needs be kept in mind, but the feeling truly was of that particular woman. I couldn’t tell why she was listening, however. There was a feeling that her magic wouldn’t last long. A potion, from what she was thinking about as it faded. It fits her skills.”

The King took a breath, to call out, then held it for a moment.

“We need to find out more, then. Covertly. Peri, she’s working openly with Mathia, isn’t she? Can we use that?”

Anders stopped for a moment, then nodded.

“Have Princess Mathia strike up a friendship with her, then, possibly receive some tutoring in herb lore and potions? Even if she only learns what can be done with it, not how, that’s valuable.” He didn’t know if the girl was able to pull that kind of things off, of course.

He also wasn’t truly certain he could have managed it.

“Also, she’s attractive in a quiet fashion. We could set someone to pay court to her, if she’s unmarried? I don’t know if that’s the case. Then, I don’t know if we need to worry about a husband, even if there is one. That would be believable enough, to be honest. Women have men paying that sort of attention to them and one who was ardent and attractive might catch her attention.”

The Queen looked at him strangely for a moment as if he was suggesting he do that portion. Then she shook her head, a strange sense coming over her. After a moment, she blinked.

“We could put Nico up to it? He needs to see toward getting a wife at any rate and if we’re incorrect on the subject, Mistress Colm would make a fine wife.” She fluttered her hands, then glanced at Anders. “Would you set that up for us, Anders? Carefully. Master Belford is a powerful man in certain ways, but the loss of his mother must be weighing on him. It can’t be discussed here, any further.” Then, carefully, she started to eat again. He did the same.

The conversation didn’t have much to do with him after that, but he didn’t leave a trance state and kept striving to find what he could about Mistress Colm. The lady had, after leaving them, gone back to her workshop and was seeing to her daily tasks, for the moment. Hanging herbs to dry.

That, learning about herbs and such, was another thing that he probably needed to know about. Especially the healing kind. Actually, seeing some examples would help, too. Books were wonderous, but with plant identification you always had to guess at some point and hope you were getting the right type. If you could commit the plant to memory, then you wouldn’t easily mistake it for another.

Which gave him a bit of a plan, if not one that he really had time for.

Then he realized something. In his entire life, he’d never heard anyone call Master Belford anything other than that. That the man had something as normal as a first name, while obvious, seemed strange to him. Nico was a fine enough name, of course. Probably short for something else. The only strange thing was that it had never occurred to Anders to question the lack, before. It was one of those things that had been hidden from him, there.

Probably because no one had thought it proper for a boy to go around calling adults by anything as familiar as their first name. At least without a title being involved at the same time.

When they were released from the meal, at about an hour past when they’d gotten there, Master Tolan led him out. Sighing, Anders spoke, trying not to sound put upon by the extra work. The feeling was there, but he buried it, as quickly as he could.

“We should see if Master Belford wants to walk to the town with us.”

Rather than seem put out by the idea, the other man stood straighter then.

“What a good idea, Master Brolly. Yes, we should inquire with him over the idea. A nice walk will do wonders for us all, I can’t doubt.”

Chapter six

It was interesting, but as far as Anders could tell, Master Belford honestly assumed that he and Master Tolan had invited him to town merely to get him out of the castle, for some exercise. It was probably a good idea, since the fellow was clearly down. Angry and sad, as they moved toward the castle town.

That was called Kingston, and, when Farad saw it with his own eyes, he realized that it was rather a decently sized city, not what he would have counted as a village at all. That he’d ever considered anything else, given the vast size of the castle and the community directly around it, probably showed how sheltered his entire life had been. The walk to the town wasn’t a vast thing, being about a quarter mile, maybe a half, away from the outer wall of the big compound up the hill.

The forest between the two places was well known to Anders, having been a place where he played, and at times, hid, earlier in his life. No more than a few months before, in fact. The boy had seldom gone into Kingston, as a rule. That hadn’t been forbidden to him, but there wasn’t that much to do there, other than stand around and watch people. While the idea sounded interesting to Farad, since their ways would be very different than what he knew of, the boy tended not to see the value in such things.

After all, if he wanted to watch a blacksmith, the castle had four of them, each working on different types of production. They also had several dedicated coopers, and even wagon makers. Anything available in the town could be had closer to home. Generally done in a superior fashion.

Still, the day, while overcast, was pleasantly cool and if the city in front of them had a certain odor, the wind was strong enough to push most of the scents away from his nose. He wasn’t some delicate flower to blanch at every unpleasant thing he encountered, but the place was truly ripe, compared to the castle. Even that wasn’t perfect, but very few places were going to be. Farad understood that concept on a deep level, having lived in more than one place now.

Master Tolan looked around as they got to the gate of the city, a red and gray clad guard, along with three of his friends, standing, rather casually, next to it. They were in army uniforms, and under arms, meaning it was their job to pay attention to the traffic coming and going. Mainly to make certain no one hostile was getting into the town. Given they were coming from the castle, that wasn’t likely. Which explained the casual manners of the men. At least until they noticed who was coming. Then they stood smartly, two on either side of the gate.

“Halt! Identify yourselves.” That came from Sergeant Bennet, who was looking off into the distance, instead of at them directly.

It was a foolish thing to do, if they were supposed to be looking for threats. Then, if the three of them were truly up to no good, they wouldn’t really share that with the guards of the day. He smiled, and nodded, ready to step forward and explain, when Master Belford did it for them. His voice was oddly mellow, rather than seeming arrogant.

The man rarely showed that kind of thing, but the truth was that, on some level, Anders thought of him that way. He couldn’t truly say why that was, now that he considered the idea.

There was no smile from the man.

“Masters Belford, Tolan and Brolly, come for commerce.”

Bennet blinked, then looked down far enough to notice Anders standing there. He nodded then and smiled.

“Well met, m’lords.” Then he looked at the others, his own fellows and went on. “I can identify Master Brolly here. He’s the short one, this other man’s apprentice. Master Tolan is the High Wizard for the King. Rode out with them both to Sapphire a few months back. I don’t know this other gentleman, however.” He looked sorry at the lack, at least.

Possibly a bit worried, though not truly scared. It was just a man trying to go into the town, after all.

One of the others, a younger looking man with a very fresh face, nodded.

“Master Belford. I don’t know his occupation, strictly speaking. One of the very high types though. I used to see him in the low hall, up in the castle, when I was working there.” Then the young man turned and waved at Anders. “Hey, Andy.”

It took him a second to recognize the man, since he looked very different in uniform. A thing he hadn’t been in even a few months before.

“Jerrol? I didn’t know you were signing up, with the military.” He glanced at the other men, and truly didn’t know them, so smiled. “Then I also didn’t know that Sergeant Bennet would be back here, yet.” When he’d left the fellow, he’d been mildly wounded in battle, but had been held back so that he could keep fighting.

The fighter, looking decently hard and rough, laughed a little. There was a slightly hard smile to go with it.

“I was called on to shepherd a group of injured back a few weeks ago. I’ll be running back out in a few days. It’s good to be back, but things are getting hot out on the front. Are you heading back that way?”

The words got a chuckle from the others, the two men and a bit late, Jerrol, who seemed slightly uneasy about it. Like a person joining in with a jest that they didn’t understand. Then, the man wasn’t exactly the brightest of men in the world.

Anders looked at Sergeant Bennet and spoke to him directly.

“I am, actually. This next week. Mainly to deliver some goods up that way, toward the front. We’re just going into town today to see if I can find some oxen, to pull that wagon?” He didn’t know if the man had picked up on that being given to him, at the time.

The man snorted.

“Damn. Things must be heating up if they’re sending you, Master Brolly. For oxen you’ll like as want to head over to the broken horn livestock man. Ten streets down, at the end. Best prices in Kingston, if you haggle a bit. Tell Roald that Chris Bennet sent you. That probably won’t get you a discount, but at least he won’t be trying to cheat you none. We could task a man to go with you? Things might not be safe for three unarmed men, dressed as you are.” He looked at the others, seeming uneasy about the offer.

Which was strange, since he didn’t have to make it at all.

Anders shook his head.

“We should be fine. I’ll try not to...” He waved his hand then, just a little, which got Bennet to lower his eyes a bit and look mean. Then he nodded, having seen Anders make things explode before.

“Right. Try not to do that, if you can. Things are a bit rough in places here, now. It’s the war that does it. We move the forces off into the battle area, then those that think they’d make a good thief or robber are more prone to try their hands. It would help if you didn’t stand out so much. Can’t help it though, if you look wealthy.” There was a shrug then and when he looked at Master Tolan he shook his head ever so slightly.

The man was nicely dressed, after all. So was Master Belford. His own clothing... Well, it was mail over a gambeson, with black trousers. That gave him the clothing of a guard or fighter of some sort, without the size or age to make that seem real. Rather than change what they were wearing, he simply nodded and touched Master Tolan on the sleeve.

“May I make a change or two to your outfit?”

The man looked slightly confused, then nodded.

“Certainly, Master Brolly.”

The spell was a bit complicated, but created a band of softly glowing lights across his back and around the cuffs on his sleeves. The light was a pale blue and impressive enough that Jerrol took a step back and swallowed. Anders waved at him.

“Easy there. It’s just a decoration. Let me...” He did something different, with a patch of air, near the hip of Master Belford, that seemed like a long knife in a sheath, with purple glowing sigils on the outside. It was harder to do, since it was an illusion, not a real light. He didn’t do anything like that for himself, since that would seem strange. Boys didn’t walk around glowing, after all.

That would just seem strange.

Bennet grinned then.

“That could work. Keep your eyes open, even with that.”

It sounded like there was a real threat, so he nodded. They were allowed into the town and, while they got a lot of stares as they traveled down the paved streets, they didn’t get many glares. No one came anywhere near them, though several of them made warning signs or muttered protective phrases at them. As they passed the mouth of a side street or alley between two buildings, a group of three men took a single look at them and actually ran away. As if they might be sought for some reason.

The trick worked though, as far as keeping them safe. He glanced at Master Tolan, and shook his head.

“This isn’t great, as for making friends, is it?’

The old man simply walked for a while, before answering.

“Magic seldom is. People love you for it, when it aids them. Most will fear you, the rest of the time. Many could learn to use such skills, but it is the rare person that applies themselves well enough for it to be this...” He waved his arms then, leaving glowing streaks of blue light in the air. “Decorative. Not that it matters. It is the burden of those who work in certain areas. Those who handle the dead have a similar stigma, as if their profession means that they are the cause of death, rather than those with compassion enough to see to one’s final rest.”

Master Belford nodded.

“They did a lovely job, with mother. I was surprised that she was placed in the castle crypt like that. I hear that Queen Maura insisted.”

Anders had missed all of that, having been busy at the time. Sleeping and then being gone. No one had even suggested he go to the crypt to see her, either. Then, people didn’t do that, in general.

Anders muttered, just loud enough for the men with him to hear.

“That was kind of her, then. She seems to be truly gentle, as far as I can tell.”

There was a soft laugh then, a dark thing, from Belford.

“Oh, yes. She is a sweet woman. Unless she has a vision that sends little boys off to war. Then, well, things are out of her hands. Not that she fakes such things. Not most of the time.” The look on his face flickered to conspiratorial, then quickly to bland.

Anders didn’t bring up the task that they had for him at that point, even if no one was close enough to hear them. He was going to drop into a trance and check to make certain they weren’t being followed by an invisible person before he spoke on the matter.

When they got to the right place, marked with both a real sign, that had words on it, and a literal broken horn, which hung under the thing to mark it for those lacking the skill, they were met by a wide eyed man, who had a unkept beard and a pock marked face. That was lean and a bit wild looking. As if demons had come for him.

Anders waved to him, not bowing, since the man was clearly not used to such things.

“Roald? Sergeant Bennet, Chris Bennet, sent us. We were assured that you wouldn’t attempt to cheat us.”

The man blinked then and snorted, his mouth opening to show half rotten teeth in the front. Several were missing, as well.

“Chris sent you? Kind of him, I suppose. What you looking for? I have some dream smoke... Rot gut, a nice set of knives to select from...”

They were standing in a literal stock yard, with pens behind them that held several types of beast. Not all of them were in good health, but some of them seemed fine to him.

“Oxen, to pull a wagon. I’ll need them at the end of this week. Two of them that don’t have any wounds or illness, if possible.”

That got the man to look at the others, then orient on Anders.

“You in charge here then, son? Good. I can’t like that these other two are glowing and using magic like that. You just look like a squire or some such.” The man grinned then, which didn’t seem all that sane, really. “Oxen... I can do that. We have some decent ones here. We can ear mark them today. Half up front, on the coin. Not that I don’t trust you, but people walk off with things, if they can. I know I do, normal like.”

They were led to the reeking muck pit that the animals were being kept in. They didn’t seem happy, but it was true that most of them looked big and strong enough. They are larger than he’d figured on. He pretended to understand what he was looking at, and finally waved a hand.

“These two. The one with the white spot and the brown and tan, with the crooked horn. How much are you asking.”

The man looked shrewd then.

“Normally I’d ask for three silvers per beast.” The words got Master Belford to reach down, like he was going to pull the illusion on his side. If he tried... Well, Anders would be scrambling to make it look real. He could hold the image there well enough, but matching it to a hand movement was really outside of what he could manage easily.

It was the weakest of his skills, magically, so far. At least of the ones he knew how to use at all.

Roald rubbed at the front of his dirty and rather threadbare shirt. His scent was powerful enough to overcome the stink of the animals there. A single pig squealed in the background, even if he couldn’t see where it was being held.

“Like I said, that’s what I’d normally ask for them. Being friends of Chris and all, I suppose I could lower that to something actually fair. Two silvers for each.” He stood straighter then, as if that was an honest answer.

Master Tolan, looking a bit dead eyed, showing he was in a trance, if a very light one, nodded.

“Two, over all. That’s still twice what you bought them for.”

The man seemed scandalized at the very suggestion.

“I fed em though, and cared for em. That has a cost. I can’t go lower than three, for both together. That’s the real price.”

Master Tolan pulled out a small purse and pulled the coins, carefully. It showed that there were others inside of it. Roald went wide eyed at it and looked greedy enough that Anders got ready to push him back with a hand gesture, if he moved in too quickly. One silver and five copper coins were presented and dropped into the grubby hand that was outstretched.

“Done then. I’ll keep these two for you. You picking them up to travel with the goods train going out at the end of the week?” That was asked of Anders, specifically. It showed a bit more than ordinary insight.

He nodded.

“I’m making deliveries out that way. I’ll be back to get them the day before we leave. How did you hear of it?”

The man shrugged at him, and glanced at the others, seeming wary suddenly.

“Ya hear things, if you bother to listen and pay attention. In my line of work, selling things, that helps keep your neck out of a noose. Say, what name you buying these under? I don’t keep proper records, but when people ask, I need to be able to tell them something. Two glowing men and a tiny guard come in, people gonna talk. If I have the same story, you don’t have as much worry, later.”

He simply looked at the man, then let his face go blank.

“I’m Anders Brolly. The head page up at the castle. Well, I don’t run them or anything that special. I’m just the oldest of them.”

That got a nod.

“Right then. Page Anders. That makes sense, in a weird way.”

The man actually looked mollified by the idea. As if it were an actual explanation. Pages passed messages. That, apparently, was a known thing to the man.

The man may not have kept good written records, but he did have a system in place using marks on a small wooden piece, that did much the same thing. Anders was passed one, that had two marks on it and a rounded mark to show horns with a crossed pair of lines under it.

“Keep that. It’s your proof that I owe you things. I know it, and you know it, but this way if one of us gets forgetful, no one loses from it.”

They left then, not bothering to look around the town, though they waved and spoke to the army guards on the gate as they left, not saying anything important, other than to thank Sergeant Bennet for the aid in getting the beasts.

About halfway back, Anders held up his left hand. Then, standing on the paved road, with no one in sight, he closed his eyes. After dropping into a trance, he searched the whole area. First focusing on listeners, since that was the big threat, then simply people. There were the three of them, and someone coming from the town behind them, several minutes’ walk away.

“It feels clear to me. Master Tolan?”

The other man did a similar search, no doubt with greater accuracy by far. Still he agreed.

“Clear, Master Brolly.”

Belford looked at them both, seeming questioning, but he didn’t speak. Then, the man was probably used to getting secret messages.

“You’re being tasked with finding information about a known spy. Mistress Colm, the herb woman at the castle. She’s been sneaking around, invisibly, probably using a potion of some sort, to make that happen. She was in at the King’s first meal today, listening. I don’t think you can tell she’s there, without using magic for it. You’re supposed to pay court, with an eye toward marriage.”

The man made a face at that.

“That sounds difficult. I’m not... Fond of women, in a certain fashion.” He looked away, as if shamed by the admission.

Anders simply looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“You don’t have to be, really. You simply need to seem that way. Plus, even if it turns out that we’re wrong, you need to marry anyway. That, and do your duty that way well enough to produce children. Mistress Colm seems a friendly sort, regardless. It’s a shame, that she might be working against us. Anyway, it needs to be done and I can’t do it.”

Sour faced or not, the man nodded.

“Understood. Is this just us three working on this problem?”

Master Tolan shook his head.

“The King, Queen, Prince Robarts, Prince Alpert, Princess Peri, General Nesmith, Anders and myself are aware of this plan. You should work with me on this directly, since I can tell if we’re being observed or not. If we are, I’ll bring up the topic of...” He stopped and looked away for a moment. “I’ll bring up hosiery. It’s a thing that we’ve never spoken on, but is common enough not to raise alarms.”

That got a nod, and they began to walk again, no one mentioning the topic of a spy in their midst as they did it. Instead, the topic changed to something rather different.

“Anders, I couldn’t help but notice you had a small difficulty, earlier. At the meal? Your anger nearly pulled me from the trance I was in.” Master Tolan glanced at him, seeming uneasy about having to question him on the topic.

After taking a very deep breath, he nodded. There was no need to hide it, really.

“Agorn, the serving man, elbowed me in the head. On purpose. He tried to make it seem like an accident and truly, it didn’t hurt that much, since I was in a trance. Except that I read his mind at the time, to see if he was trying to tell me something or pass an alert to a thing I was missing. It wasn’t that. He simply felt that the Prince’s bastard didn’t deserve to be there. Or in the castle at all. Also, he thought I was being rude and cheeky, which was probably correct, to be honest on the topic. I was hit by a rage then... Well, let’s just say he nearly died, in that moment.”

The other two men simply made faces over the idea. Finally, after a long while, Master Belford made a disgusted sound.

“Well, best not to do that, if you can manage. Don’t give in to that anger. One of the costs of being a bastard is that people will attempt to use it against you.” There was a shuddering then. “I have word on Baron Brolly. He should be here inside the month. You’ll miss him at the start, but he may well be here on the far end of your journey. Possibly not, if the snows threaten to come early. He’s put out attempts to find information on you, already. With enough of a reward for such that many will be attempting to collect on it.”

Anders didn’t know what to say about that, so he nodded.

“I should send a message that way, I suppose. I don’t know what to say to the man. I was told he threatened to kill me, once. To have me tossed off a cliff?”

Both men looked at him then, with Master Belford finally sighing. Then he didn’t talk at all for a while. Finally, he just threw his hands out.

“Secrecy does you no good here. He wasn’t just sitting at tea, suggesting the thing be done. He was danglingly you by one leg, over a steep ravine, when we got there. Master Tolan led us to him, and you, or we wouldn’t have made it in time at all. Several of us had ridden out, after he’d taken you. Prince Robarts, Sir Humphrey, Renner and Jennings along with myself. We were younger then, as you might imagine. Not much older than you are now. The Baron Brolly is no great fighter, but we still had to take him by force, to prevent you from dying that day. There was a greater fight over those events, later. The Baron has been away in that time, in disgrace.”

The man looked annoyed, instead of bleak.

Anders felt that last one, himself.

“That... Is slightly different than I’d heard. Thank you for saving my life then. I’m out of my depth here, I have to admit. Any clues as to what to do here?” It seemed premature to simply kill the Baron and he definitely wasn’t talking about that out loud, in case it came to actually doing it in order to survive.

Interestingly, Master Belford smiled then.

“Truly, you won’t have to do much. The man might come for you, but enough people have passed the danger of that to him already that I doubt he’ll take the risk. The man isn’t a fighter, but he’s also not a true fool. That... He should have used you, and your position, instead of acting as he did at the time. It was as if he wasn’t rational on the matter, for some reason. People do things and at times a child results. It isn’t such a shame that anyone needs to murder a baby over it.”

That was probably more or less true. Most of the time women got married if they were young and without a husband with a child coming. A good percentage of the time the father wasn’t the one doing that part, as well. At least that seemed to be what Anders had heard on the topic. No one had spoken of the idea much around him, but enough for him to work out what had to be going on.

Farad’s time had been different that way. Oh, men had been men and women too easily swayed at times. Most of them were already married though, since the older men and the very rich or powerful often had many wives at once. They didn’t really stay that faithful, of course. When a man had ten or twenty wives, he couldn’t manage all of them, day to day.

He nodded then.

“Well, I’m sure it will work out.” He wasn’t certain of that at all, but didn’t really know enough to say anything for certain. Seeming scared was a weakness, and while neither man with him seemed the type to use that against him directly, he couldn’t be certain of that point.

Not without using magic.

The trip into the town had taken up much of the early morning, so once back at the castle, they all took different paths, needing to see to their day’s labors. In his case, he needed to ready more mail and gambeson for the testing to be done, later in the day. How that was going to work, he didn’t know. No one had discussed that topic with him yet.

It was hard work, but by the time, after the mid-meal, when he walked to the outer stables, to the practice area behind it, he was carrying two full sets of his new mail and fabric armor. It was heavy enough that he was gasping a bit by the time he got there, even if his wind was generally decent, thanks to his normal weapons practice.

Still, he was sweating a bit from the effort, by the time he got to where a collection of men stood. They had weapons and were all either knights or castle guards. General Nesmith stood with Sir Daniel, Sir Humphrey and another man who was in gray. Captain Ford was next to the General, and waved for him to come over.

“Just the man. With armor for us to batter and destroy?” He smiled, as if it were a jest.

He looked at the captain and nodded.

“I made some extra, expecting that. I hope it holds, at least to normal standards.”

The one man he didn’t have a name for, an older fellow with a hairless face and silver hair up top, moved over and took the collection of things. It seemed easy when he did it, muscle showing from under his gray uniform top.

“Let me see this, then. Mail and padded armor...” Then, as if it made any sense, he took one of the cloth pieces, and walked away with it, over to a log that was resting on its side, and settled it over the end, so it was held in place.

Standing, he nodded.

“The angle is bad, being cross wise. It’s easier to swing a sword or ax at it, doing it in this fashion. There’s no give to the wood, like a body has, either. Which means that, if it holds against blows now, it certainly will when in battle. It should, from the construction used, but we need to make certain of that. Who’s doing the honors?” He looked at Anders, as if expecting him to go first. He smiled, but waved at the powerful man.

“Why don’t you do that for us? Anyone wearing this won’t be stabbed by a boy. Well, most likely.”

That got a chuckle, from several of the men there, only the General refraining.

The man nodded, went to the rack on the side and selected a sword. A sharp one, from the way he handled it on testing. Then, without any fanfare or more talk, he started in on the poor pieces of material over the log, cutting and hitting it with enough force that, on the sixth cut, he made it through the armor.

Anders winced. The man didn’t stop there though, using an ax on it, which went through in half the blows. Part of him wanted to cry at the failure, as the man moved to stab with a sharp knife. That didn’t stick into the wood, at first. Eventually it passed through though, the man grunting with the effort.

Then he stood, took the gambeson off the log and smiled as he held it up.

“A man wearing this would survive most things that cloth can protect from. This is thick. Solid work. The stitching didn’t break at all. Look here.” He passed the thing around, pointing at it when he showed it to Anders.

“I had to hit three times right here, in the same place, to get through it. It’s almost impossible to do that against a person that’s moving. Good work. Excellent, in fact. Thoughts, gentlemen?”

General Nesmith looked at the damage again, after taking the cloth armor, finally nodding.

“This is good enough, but the mail is the real test. What do you think, Master Armorer?”

The man Anders didn’t know moved to pick up one of the ring mail shirts, examining it closely. After a bit, seeming critical, he draped that over the same log. This time, instead of just hitting it with a sword, the man went to the table, got an awl and a hammer.

“A normal mail link will spread at between two and four hammer blows. A closed ring link takes ten. These are all closed, instead of one in five. You can’t do this normally. Let me see what it will take.”

He counted to himself as the man hammered. The blows rang out, one after another. On the eleventh one, the metal broke, the awl stuck in the wood. Then he tapped that out, using the big hammer and did again. Five times, in different places.

“Ten to eleven hits, regardless of where I do it. Now, we all take turns hitting this until it fails.”

That, it seemed was for everyone. Even Anders was handed a sword and told to go at the log. For the most part, they drove the links into the log, before they broke from the sword or ax. It really did simply break in places, under the stress they were putting it under.

The armorer stood at the end, after pulling the mail from the wood and sliding it off. Then he took the back of the damaged gambeson, put it on the log, with the unmarred portion of mail from the back of the shirt over it and restarted the whole thing.

At the end, he laughed a bit.

“Well, it’s not as sturdy as good plate. I’ve never seen mail hold this well before, so there’s that. The metal used could be better, which would improve the strength a bit. Anyone dying through this was probably battered to death. Crushed inside. I call it a success.”

Anders felt a sense of relief then. Mainly due to the fact that he’d thought he was failing, through most of the testing. The weapons had gone through, at times. Even if he understood that they were testing it in a way meant to do that more easily than it would on a person.

General Nesmith clapped him on the shoulder.

“Now, we need two hundred units of each, every month. After you get back from the front, of course. On top of your other duties, so make allowances for that.”

Anders nearly glared at the man, until he realized that what he was asking for would be possible, if he could modify the technique, just a bit. Really, it came down to two separate things. Three, if he included time. The only way to get more of that would be to make it, however.

The only trick he had that would allow it was in improving how he did things.

“That’s a heavy schedule. I can do half of that? Maybe, I mean. I’ll need a steady supply of linen and steel to make things from, and probably some special consideration for food. Especially if I have to keep up everything I’m doing. Working with the cloth isn’t that bad, but the metal burns through magical power, which has to be replaced regularly.” He’d mentioned that before, in separate pieces, but this time the General went serious, and then nodded.

“That is a heavy schedule, indeed. We might need some other types of armor, as well. I’ll arrange that food and the materials for you. Now... What do we do with the ruined bits here?”

Anders took them, laid the mail on the wooden table to the side and simply did the repairs to it there. No one was paying much attention to him as he did it. Not at first. When he spoke, the men gathered around. Probably just to see what he was doing.

“Ringu ned, ere ot neg-fen.” He had to point, to establish where he meant to himself, but the rings reformed, with a bit of heavy breathing, but no passing out at all.

Then he had to do it again, in ten places, but the work happened fast enough that the armorer clapped his hands together.

“Damn, boy! That’s some fast work. Can you do the soft armor as well?”

He could and did, after less than a minute. When they were repaired, the armorer put them on the log again. This time he had to work just as hard, but was laughing through the last half of his efforts. Why that was, Anders didn’t understand. Farad worked it out first.

Then the man spoke.

“Just as strong, even after being repaired.”

The words weren’t really praise, but Anders had to admit he liked hearing them. His life hadn’t been dripping with that kind of thing, after all. True, he hadn’t earned it, and even this wasn’t only about him, since Farad was responsible for much of the magic they did, but he actually felt a bit like he’d had something to do with the effort on the armor.

Even better, if he could do it well, which it seemed he had a good start on, thanks to the old man in his head, he might be able to make a living doing that kind of thing. He thought about that for a bit, then smiled. If only a little.

He laid out the gambeson and did the work on that as well. It took less effort than the mail had, as far as the energy drain, but there was enough left to fix the mail as well. When he was finished, the armorer didn’t beat the poor thing up again at least.

Farad blinked, realizing that the boy inside of himself had actually come forward. As an equal, in their shared mind. That was a good thing, and one that he hadn’t been certain was possible at all. Even better, he’d been thinking about finding an occupation. Not playing, or waiting for others to tell him what to do with his life. Making armor was a real thing for them to do, after all. Needed and even valued in the place they were in.

Even if they practiced magic and healing on the side. Farad would have done it differently, but it wasn’t his life. It was Anders Brolly’s. He was just there to help him, if he could. In truth, he shouldn’t have been there at all. It had worked out so far, but Farad Ibn Istel was acutely aware that the natural order of life, a single existence, was being subverted by his presence.

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have to keep on doing it. It was good to see Anders growing, despite the interloper in his mind.

After the testing, the men seemed happy enough to stand and talk to each other, with Captain Ford waving him away with a smile. That meant bowing, using the martial form, with his hands in front of himself, looking at those of the others, in case of attack. The man had never done that to him, simply jumping in to start a fight without warning, but it was a thing that others had spoken about, so it seemed prudent to be aware of the situation at hand.

They all did it back, then moved to load him with gear again. The trip back to his room was no more easy or fun than the one outward, meaning his arms were tired by the time it was over. He didn’t drop them or anything that clumsy or weak seeming, but it was closer than he liked a few times.

Even with the strange testing being done several times, there were still hours before the late meal, meaning Anders finally had some time to get to working on the book for Master Tolan. Others as well, he supposed, if they were to be trained in the communications method that he’d put together. There was a high density of information on each page, but he worked very hard not to leave out any steps.

After some hours, he had it finished. It was only about twenty pages for the whole thing, which surprised Farad, more than a little. Part of that was down to having made the unique sigils small on each page, as well as simply pointing out what had to be done with them, once they were learned, all at once. That didn’t give him a binding for the book, but oddly, that was a thing that he figured would be possible to do with magic.

The idea was a bit strange, but if he could make materials into other things, on a limited basis, including cloth into leather, there was no reason he couldn’t use a bit of linen that way, to make a sturdy and appropriate cover for the work. The bindings would have to be different, being of the ancient sewn technique, rather than the more modern glued works, but he had what he needed for it, right there.

The last pages needed to dry anyway, so he worked on that while it dried. It took about half an hour, since he decorated the false leather, making it seem both real and with blacked words on an embossed design on the cover. That part, the raised lettering and pattern were the difficult portions. It wasn’t a simple thing, being a collection of the sigils inside, which if read out, would be communicated to the listener at a distance as a simple message.

Let this bring peace.

It wouldn’t, since, as old Farad knew well, humanity rarely managed that state for long. That didn’t make the dream unworthy, however.

Once bound he left the new book on the table there, and moved off to the late meal. His stomach was attempting to eat itself, or so it felt like. He tried to settle alone at a table, but was quickly approached by a younger man, who he didn’t know. The fellow didn’t have a plate, but was wearing a rather worn gambeson, which marked him as a certain type of person. Normally at least. Anders was still in his mail and cloth armor, the leather belt around his middle slipping too commonly for comfort. It probably would seem to others as a tiny child playing at being a soldier or even a knight, his doing that.

The real truth was that it was both cool in the castle and he’d forgotten to take the mail off, when he was in his room. The jangling of the links wasn’t that loud and the armor didn’t really get in his way, which was a useful thing to know before he was on the road.

The fellow bowed at him. Doing it rather poorly, but using a thing close enough to first courtly that Anders stood and did it back. The other man stayed blank through the face.

“You’re Master Brolly? Sir Humphrey told me to come find you. Not why, just that you might be here for the meal and I should do as you request.” The idea didn’t seem to sit well with the boy, who was probably four years Anders’ senior. He didn’t let it show too bitterly, so Anders’ smiled.

“Hmm? That’s a bit of a trick or jest on his part then. Come, sit. Do you need food? I’ll explain the plan to you. It won’t take too long, except for when I make mistakes and we have to do everything three times, of course.”

The words didn’t seem to clarify anything, but the boy nodded.

“I could eat, truth told. Oh, my manners... I’m Squire Faine. You’ve heard of me, no doubt?” The last was spoken with such good humor that it was easy to see the boy wasn’t being full of himself.

Anders grinned then.

“I have, actually, after a fashion. From Sir Humphrey, naturally. The food is over there, on the long table, grab a plate. You don’t mind my going over things while I eat?” That was considered rude by some people, even if done commonly enough by the King and his family, as well as the knights, if Sir Humphrey was any example of that sort, that it wasn’t a vast shock when the man simply nodded, rather officially.

“That works. I’ll be back shortly.” He actually hurried, coming back with a well filled plate that was at least as much, if not slightly more than what Anders had. No one looked at him strangely over it or anything, even if it was clear that he didn’t fit there, perfectly. He wasn’t well enough dressed or familiar to the space. Still, as soon as he was settled, the conversation began.

“I can make armor, like this.” He gestured to himself, as an example of his efforts. “Using magic. It’s not as simple as it sounds, of course.”

That got a snort. It wasn’t rough, but did come with a grin.

“Funny, but that doesn’t sound easy or simple at all, for some reason. I get the point regardless, you’re being humble, even if everyone in the barracks was going on about the new superior mail and gambeson some high mage made. That’s you? I... You look youthful, Master Brolly. Is that to hide what you are?” He winced after the words, as if they might be insulting.

Anders had heard the idea before. Oddly, so far it had never been ill meant.

“Not at all. I’m twelve. Nearly thirteen, I think? At any rate, Sir Humphrey suggested that you might want some armor like this. We can do that, after I finish this? I’ve been working so much lately that I keep losing weight. Going out on the road means that food will be a bit scarce at times, possibly. We’re taking some, which I need to see to... There’s a lot to do before we leave, isn’t there?”

Faine ate and nodded, at the same time. It seemed rather agreeable, even if he did have to talk to a child over the meal.

“I have that same issue. All the squires were told that we’re leaving on a small campaign, in a few days time and to ready ourselves. Now... I’m to get fine magical armor from you? How does that work, do you think? I have... Two gold coins, to provide everything I need for the trip. That’s a lot, but not even a tenth what a fine mail shirt would require.” There was an easy shrug then, as if it were simply a factor that he couldn’t get around.

Ander’s simply lied then, in part.

“It’s a gift, from your knight and Prince Robarts. There might be better weapons as well, if I can work that out in time. Not just for you, all the squires are getting the same thing. The knights as well, but you lot get to go first, since it might take me a few attempts to learn to size things correctly. This campaign is a guard duty, and not that dangerous, but we’re at war. The safety won’t last forever.”

There was a slightly downcast look then, eyes on the table, as the boy teared up. At first Farad didn’t understand, until a smile came.

“I didn’t know that anyone would think of us squires, like that. Even men at arms are required to buy their own armor. Sometimes the levies get old armor, if there’s any left. Only as a loan, of course. When the war is over, it has to go back into storage. Mail doesn’t store well, though, so it’s normally half rust, if it’s not soaked in barrels of hot lard and protected that way.”

That sounded extreme, but Anders had heard of oiling the armor, which was probably one of the tasks of the squire. That the boy would know more about that topic than he did, simply made sense. To that end, he nodded, and decided to look into the matter more, later, if he ever had the time.

They hurried through the food, which was good, and filling, but finished it all, then left their plates, which was the custom in the low hall, and walked with purpose back to his room. There was no fire and night had fallen outside, making the room near black once they got inside.

Being careful, Anders touched the stone wall to his right.

“Bar sot ere- Fen ot...” He had to concentrate, but knew the pattern he wanted to use. A light, like the sun, came into being above his hand, high up on the wall, overlapping the ceiling a little. It was a bit sloppy looking, but would work and go out when he uttered the last word, while thinking about it.

Squire Faine squeaked, stepped away from the wall and took a stance, his hands raised, ready to fight. He even turned to Anders, which meant he was greeted with a well illuminated and hopefully friendly, smile.

“Sorry there, I should have warned you first. This is just a light, so we can do the needed work. No need to beat me for it. Even if I could have done a nicer looking job of it. Now, I think the best plan will be to make a gambeson, a bit too large, then to resize it while you wear it. We’ll do cloth first, in case it hurts. That’s softer than metal.”

There were twenty minutes where he laid out and shaped the thirty-four layers of linen, turning it into a bigger version of what he was wearing himself. Then, after taking off his old, well-worn armor, showing an even older, rather threadbare undershirt beneath it, Faine put the new one on.

“This is fine work! Solid and not like to break open if I ever get hit for real.” It was still a light tan, instead of a more interesting or festive color.

With something like ten slow movements he pulled the whole thing in, making it thicker in places. Made it look lumpy and while no complaints came, it was probably going to be uncomfortable. That meant spreading the strength of the fabric evenly, which took far too long. Nearly half an hour just for that portion. It was clear that he needed a specific magical word or phrase just for that, if he was going to be responsible for doing several such things a day.

The mail was, oddly, faster, if physically harder. He was drenched with sweat and breathing hard when he was finish, or nearly so. Holding up his right hand, he waved it a bit, not able to speak clearly yet.

“Are you well, Master Brolly?”

He was able to nod and fake a smile, then, after a minute, came back to nearly normal.

“What color do you want for the gambeson?”

The squire laughed then. A soft thing, but a real one.

“I get to be all fancy, as well? I don’t know. My house colors are forest green and black. One of those?”

Anders did a bit better than that, taking it as an excuse to practice. In the end, after no more than a minute, the undertunic was in a deep green, with a black diamond on the front and back. It looked good, without seeming as if the squire were laying claim to a station above his own by having a specific barding. Then, from the sound of it, his family probably had their own crest, which could have been placed there. Not that they had time for that kind of thing at the moment.

Besides, people only really wore that sort of thing to battle, so they’d get credit for the kills they made.

The squire stood back and then bowed.

“This is amazing. I just send the others in at you in a group? We could start after first meal, if that suits you?” He seemed oddly hopeful about that idea.

“I can’t. I still need to make other preparations for the journey. After the late meal again. Send... Call it two of them? We might be up late, working. As it is...” The truth was he had a bit before he needed to sleep, without there being anything in particular for him to do that he could.

Except, he realized, that wasn’t true. He could make the needed armor up, making it large, to have on hand for the next day.

The squire took his old gambeson and moved to the door, just turning and walking away. He waved though, which was companionable enough for Anders. For Farad as well. It was far closer to what his old life had deemed normal than all the formal bowing and such he had to do most of the time any longer.

At the door, when it opened, Anders noticed that Lady Lyse stood outside of it, a smile on her face. It wasn’t a genuine thing at all, but didn’t betray what she was truly feeling. She curtsied, holding her dress as she did so, but it was a light and almost absent minded seeming thing.

“Squire... Faine, isn’t it? Sir Humphrey’s assistant?”

The boy bowed, holding the old cloth armor in the crook of his left arm. His face flushed a bit, as if he felt caught out. It took a moment for Anders to understand that the man was simply startled by the presence of a lovely woman and it had flustered him. His mother was a beauty to be certain, but Anders had never truly thought of her that way. To him she was, first and foremost, his mother.

The older boy, on standing, spoke well enough.

“That’s correct. Lady Lyse, I believe? I don’t think we were ever formally introduced. Really, I’m surprised that you even know who I am. I don’t get to court much.”

She simply nodded at him then, seeming bored already. That wasn’t the truth of the matter, of course. If she hadn’t wanted to engage the squire, she simply would have nodded or perhaps smiled. Which meant that her efforts, no matter what they seemed like on the surface, were going deeper than merely chatting in the hallway.

“Few do, when they are squires. Sir Humphrey speaks highly of you. I... See that you are wearing fine armor. That’s a sudden change, isn’t it?” She waved at what he had on, her face suspicious again.

“I am! Master Brolly here made it for me, using magic. He said that it was a gift, from Sir Humphrey and Prince Robarts. I do appreciate the armor, but that kind of thing sounds serious, doesn’t it? It easier to get new squires, than good armor for them. I hear that we might have weapons coming as well. Again, from Master Brolly here, if I have that right. This new kit is tested to be a superior type of armor, as well. Not as good as strong plate, since it bends under the blow, but still, this isn’t some little thing, is it?”

She blinked then and stood straighter.

“That isn’t. Well, best I let you get to your bed, I was just coming to check on my son before he finds his own slumber.” She seemed somewhat mollified by her conversation, at least.

Another poorly executed bow came then, and the boy moved off, doing as he was told, it seemed. Lyse moved to walk into his room, looking up at the sudden bright light at the top of the wall, as she did. It was so much darker by lamp light in the hallway, though those were lit and in their stands, meaning she didn’t have to carry a light with her.

As soon as the door closed, she glanced at the bed, which was made, then at him. Her gaze fairly scraped his being for a moment, then she smiled.

“Good. I was afraid he might have been forcing himself on you. That or at least using threats to gain that armor. I hadn’t heard that Prince Robarts was spending coin on squires now... That’s, well, truly, it’s a good plan. We tend to treat them as if they don’t matter, but they’re the pool of future knights and often see battle if it comes. It could bode ill though, if things are so dire that boys must be dressed in magical armor for what is coming.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, the silk of her fine gown shining. There were places where it was a bit shoddy looking, being rough from wear and use. The color had faded and there were places, nearly invisible to the eye, where something like ink had stained it, leaving black droplets.

He looked up at her and nodded.

“It could be taken that way. I lied to him. Sir Humphrey sent him for armor, since I need to practice making and fitting it anyway, but I don’t want everyone in the world to think to come to me for free things, so the fiction seemed sensible. Hopefully the thrashing from Prince Robarts won’t be too severe. It was just what popped into my head at the time.”

His mother... Laughed.

“Oh! That’s different then, indeed. Get with him as early as possible in the morning, to explain it, before he’s caught out with thanks or petitions for such from others. It’s poor form to beg for gifts, but so common it’s nearly a joke at court.” She leaned in then and nearly touched the metal of his mail. She didn’t, however.

“I heard that this is a wonder. It certain looks good. The lines are clean and it gleams nicely. It’s a bit... Strange, to walk around in armor though. Gambeson is worn, but not other armor. Do you fear assassins? That... It probably won’t be a knife, but I can’t swear to it, if it comes. You could wear it under the cloth, I think? I’ve noticed that being done from time to time. It might seem less conspicuous.”

Anders didn’t explain himself on that score, simply nodding.

“I’ll do that, instead. Now, do you need something? I could go over your dresses, if you wish. Before I leave. Remove the stains, freshen the colors... I don’t know the styles, but if you guide me well enough we could change the cut as well? Change the look of the material, though I really only know a few so far and only silk is going to fit for that. I should learn some other ones, but for right now my time spent that way has mainly been on armor or minor healing.”

She smiled at him then.

“Honestly, it simply occurred to me that I could be a better mother to you, so here I am. Do you need anything?” She paused then and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, drat. I said that and I actually have some things for you to see to. I’ve a list of items that people would like taken to the front. It’s a lot. About half a cart load, at a guess.” That was pulled from a hidden fold in her gown, and passed to him without fanfare or bowing.

Looking at it, going over the packing plan in his head, he nodded.

“I can do this. Nothing else, since most of the space will be reserved for food and cooking supplies. This is... Still a good amount. Mainly in gifts to the generals, it seems. Some of it’s to share with the men and some useful items. I’ll have the wagon over to the far courtyard in three days. Then we can pack it before it’s time to leave. I hear that will probably take place at before first light, on the day. Thank you for collecting these for me. I’ve been so busy... Well, that’s everyone, most likely.”

She giggled at the words.

“Oh, you. How silly! Almost no one is as busy as you’ve been these last days. Now, sleep well and make sure to eat enough. I’ll speak to you tomorrow?”

That got a nod.

“Certainly. If I can find the time. It’s always a pleasure to speak to you, mother. Now, I need to get out of this mail and into my sleeping clothes. I’ll talk to you then.”

She left, with a familial bow at the door, and closed it behind her with a slight squeaking noise coming from the hinges. He could fix that, with a bit of oil, of course. At the moment, he simply took the armor and then the gambeson off, leaning over, hands outstretched, and shaking himself bodily to make it happen.

Then he found his night clothes and got into bed.

“Fen.” The light went out then, leaving the room dark enough that he couldn’t see anything at all. It was probably a mistake, he knew. If anyone was going to try to kill him, they could simply walk into his room and do it in the night. If that happened, he’d simply never wake up. Worse, if the right person did it, they might not even be seen, being without visible form at the time.

He got up and wedged his one chair under the latch on the door. It wouldn’t actually prevent someone from coming in, but it would fall to its feet if pushed, making a noise that might alert him to a possible danger. Then he’d have to respond fast enough to protect himself. A thing that wasn’t that likely, coming from a dead sleep.

It was the best he could do though, at the moment and the truth was, no one would be coming for him that night. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be wise to learn to protect and guard himself when he was sleeping, however. For once, as he tried to think on the topic, nothing at all came to mind.

It meant he slept, since he had little choice that way, being tired, but kept waking up, starting, thinking that he’d heard a sound. A whisper or a thump. Two times he made a light, seeking to find if the chair had fallen over.

Thankfully, it hadn’t. The idea of waking up to a room with another person in it haunted him. Until light came, in the morning. Then, thinking about the night behind him, he felt weak and a bit silly.

At least until he rose to face the rest of his day.

Then it sunk in that the terrified boy and old man inside of him both understood that there was more danger than he could possibly understand.

Chapter seven

Horses swayed as you rode. It wasn’t that jarring, once you got used to it. Wagon’s on the other hand simply tried to shake your spine apart, with every rotation of their wooden wheels. That got better, once the wagons had gotten away from the fine cobbled roads around the castle town. The oxen seemed to like the dirt road better as well, so it wasn’t simply a thing that Anders had going on, alone.

The reins were in his hands, since Sir Daniel had decided that the best way for him to learn was by actually doing the task for himself. It wasn’t hard, since the oxen, much like horses, resisted doing anything too foolish. Somehow, possibly due to luck, the beasts he’d gotten, Poke and Tanner, seemed to know what they were doing, and were willing to work with him on making the wagon move along.

Then, they also had a leather line tied to the brass rings in their noses, so it could have been about that. He had to think that if he’d been in their places, he probably would have tried to placate the little two legged beast behind them as well. On the friendly side for all of them, he pretty much didn’t have to do anything at all, just let the animals follow the wagon ahead of them. That was about ten paces away, for an adult man, which was the spread that everyone seemed to be using.

There were nearly a hundred wagons traveling with them, with an average of two people for each one of those, plus thirty men on horseback. Brownie and Chestnut were following along behind them, along with Sir Daniel’s courser. She was a bred war horse, but the truth was that his two looked very much the same. The colors were different, thankfully, with Storm being a cloud gray with black on the underbelly.

Sir Daniel sniffed and looked around for a bit. His hair was short, as was Anders. In fact, everyone with the knights had done that, making them look more official. It also hid Prince Erold and Prince Robards’ from casual observation. On top of that, they were all dressed in the same kind of clothing. Tan and scarlet red, with their gambesons all matching. They had steel mail over that, all in the same style, but he’d worked out how to make it a dull color that seemed almost golden. It was pretty enough, close up, but at a distant they looked a bit poor, even with good equipment that was high quality when you had a chance to examine it close up.

Like honest knights might, at the start of a war.

The knights had their own wagon with them, filled with nothing but tools and weapons. The main part of that was plate armor. Thousands of pounds of it, in fact. It was the kind of thing that made sense, once you saw it, but that didn’t really get recorded in the history books. If asked before that point, Farad would have assumed that the men would wear their armor all the time, not just in battle. Instead, all of them were perfectly fine dressing as he was for their duties protecting the supplies.

In fact, it had been what they all expected to do, the entire time. No one had even suggested the knights or their squires do anything more than that. The only person who had gotten questioning looks over the clothing choice was Anders. Even that had been no more than a bit of staring, along with a smile or two when he nodded at the person doing it. From what he could tell, it wasn’t seen as offensive, merely not a thing anyone had ever really seen before.

Then, most of the people didn’t speak to him at all, and the two who had both called him squire. A thing that he’d instantly corrected, asking them to just call him Andy. He, the boy within, hated the name, being too childish, but everyone had accepted it instantly, not asking why he was in fitted armor that, when standing close to him, seemed to be made of bronze, instead of steel.

They’d only been on the road for half a day, so nothing had broken down, and no one had gotten wet from the rain that was coming. Looking at the sky, Anders nodded.

“Sir Daniel? Would you take the reins for a bit? I want to check on some things.”

The man didn’t balk at the idea, or tell him to do his own driving, even if that would be fair. Grabbing the leather leads, the man simply assumed control, looking around carefully. Then he spoke softly, looking straight ahead.

“Don’t do anything too obvious, if you can help it. We aren’t hiding that we have a magic user with us, in particular, but we aren’t shouting it to the world, either. This lot with us might be a bit uneasy, if they learned about that kind of thing. Or not. It’s hard to know with the road people. They see things that others don’t.”

Anders gave a half nod, closed his eyes and dropped into a trance. Even with a lifetime of practice, doing similar things, the bouncing and jarring of the road was distracting enough that it took him nearly three minutes to get into the correct mental state. Then he cast his mind ahead, and to the sides, searching for people along the roadside. There were some, a bit off the road, both ahead and behind, but none that seemed to mean anyone particular harm when he checked them individually. He didn’t bother searching for names or occupations, since it wouldn’t be needed, really.

Then he checked the weather, and while there were clouds in the sky, they were moving to the east and south, in the direction they’d come. It wasn’t his habit, but he tried to look forward in time, to that night, to see if they were going to be under clouds or not. It seemed to be totally clear, from the feeling he was getting.

Last, he searched for animals that would be worth hunting. Deer, boar or other large beasts. Most of what he found in the area were too far away for him to worry about on the first day of travel. They had food, after all. It was simply that they’d have more, later, if they could eat from things collected as they went. Even with the noise of the wagons, their beasts and people talking, he found a small herd of elk off to the right, about an eighth of a mile from where he was at the moment.

Bringing himself upward, to the surface of his own mind, he opened his eyes.

“Clear tonight. There are some elk to the side. I’ll slip off and get one. It should take me about an hour, if I hurry. I’ll meet you ahead of here, about two or three miles. There are no brigands or anything.”

The Knight gave a smile then and a head shake. When he spoke, it was loud enough to be heard several wagons away.

“Well, you are a fine hand at hunting, Andy. Go off and play. Make sure to meet us by night fall.”

The ancient man inside of him nearly grinned like a fool at the words. Even Anders the young man understood the idea. He was to go off to play, then accidently get lucky and struggle back with a beast that two or three men would have been hard pressed to carry. That was easy enough to cover for, however. At least if he could get into position on time.

Doing it meant slipping off the side of the wagon in motion, since they weren’t stopping yet, pulling his bow and ten arrows off of Brownie and then dashing into the rough, fairly well managed, brush off to the right of the wagon. Then, moving at a trot, he headed in the correct direction, making good time considering all the obstacles in his way. He stopped to check on the position of the animals, twice. That meant dropping into a trance, carefully, then marking the position by pointing and heading onward at the best pace he could manage.

They were still in the King’s forest area, which meant that woodmen and foresters worked the area. There was room for a person to move under the trees, and even a path, made by animal traffic, that he was able to follow, almost the entire way.

When he had the elk in sight, he sighed. That was mainly because he was out of breath, from his efforts of the last moments. Carefully, using a tree with a short bush next to it for cover, with the animals about twenty paces from him, he muttered. Very softly, so as to not alert his prey.

“Nik ere ud bestle edol wene ti ah.” As soon as he felt the tingle of magic, the spell set, he released the arrow. It did its job, hitting one of the beasts, exploding when it did, killing only the specific creature he’d aimed at.

The damage pushed the flesh out and left a hole that went all the way through the creature, but it wasn’t so big that he couldn’t reasonably hide that it had happened. The hard part would be explaining how he got it bled out. He had rope with him, since that had been with his bow, along with a knife that would work well enough. On the road everyone was expected to carry several of the things.

He had one for eating, another for camp chores and a longer third one which was nearly a small sword. In case he needed to fight. Even the caravanners carried things like that on them, all the time. He moved in and quickly slit the beast’s throat, doing it fast enough that his relatives would be able to see it being done. That wasn’t his plan, but the animals, while startled by the thumping sound of the explosion, had only run about fifteen paces away. It was tempting to take them all, or at least another one, but the truth was that the animal on the ground would go bad before they could eat all the meat. Really, even if he shared it out that night, with everyone, there would still be some for the morning.

He pulled the stout line around the hind legs of the animal and with a bit of leverage and some struggling, during which he burned his hands as the rope slipped before he could tie it off, twice, he managed to hang the thing about four inches off the ground. It was enough though, so the blood came out, preserving the flavor of the meat.

Then, he whispered again, causing the animal to lose most of its weight. Really, even if he was breathing hard, it only felt like about ten pounds to him, resting comfortably over his shoulders. Well, awkwardly held there. The thing wasn’t heavy for the moment, but its vast size was still an issue. Worse, he needed to jog, in order to get it back to the side of the road at the right time.

It was harder to search, using magic, while working that hard, though he roughly managed it. Anders had to stop, to make it work, and four times he simply had to put the animal down, since, light or not, holding it over his shoulders was making his arms cramp up.

He ended up standing on the side of the dirt road, waiting for the wagons to get there. It wasn’t a long wait, but he’d gotten there first. The story he planned to tell, mainly a lie, was that he’d hit the animal and it had run forward, to near that position. Then he’d bled it, which he really had managed, using his own physical effort, and had the injuries to prove it, and dragged it to the road, which, thankfully hadn’t been far away at all.

When the caravan leader, a grizzled old man, who had a weathered face, a missing front tooth and hard brown eyes saw him there, the man simply nodded. Then he handed the reins to the fellow next to him, dodged his own team of four large oxen and hopped down lightly.

“That’s a nice catch. You’re Andy the Page Boy, aren’t you? The one with the knights?” There was a wave at his clothing, which matched the others well enough to mark him as that very person. Well, that and his size.

He nodded, then smiled a bit.

“We can’t eat all of this, so we’ll be sharing the meat out. There should be enough for everyone, but I can’t cook for three hundred people, so...” He felt a bit lazy, admitting that, but the older man made a strange, half choked sound and glanced around.

“It’s not your job to feed us, though the extra will make you popular. I’ll have the word passed, that anyone wanting in on that should find you when we settle in for the night. That will be in... Oh, call it three hours. A long day, but this is the good stretch of road, so we need to use it. Later, when the rains come or the road is blocked by deadfall, we’ll need that time. Best just hold here. I’ll call a halt so you can load that, when your wagon comes by.” Then the man jogged off, as if he were forty years younger than he looked to be.

The wait still took about half an hour, since the carts, wagons and horses didn’t move fast, in particular. That meant he gathered some attention as people passed by. One of them, a woman in a wagon, with six or seven others, all dressed in bright clothing, of all different colors, called out to him.

“You selling any of that meat, boy?” She wasn’t exactly pretty, but she had all her own teeth and wasn’t old or pock marked. Her hair was back, held under a bright red head scarf. “We could trade with you for it.” She giggled at the words, as if he wouldn’t get what she meant by that. Which, in truth, he barely did.

Anders was sort of tempted, but the words of the King came back to him. It was best for him to avoid that kind of thing, for the time being. Tempting or not.

“I’m sharing it out, so no need for that, this time. Find the knights’ camp when we stop. Pass the word on that. It will go bad anyway, so people might as well eat it. You have to cook it yourself, of course.”

The woman, who was halfway past him, turned to look his way then.

“That’s kind of you! I’ll be over then. I’m Mary, by the way. See you then!” She seemed excited for some reason. Then, there was free food in making the contact, and as the man had told him, while it wasn’t his job to feed most of them, doing so would make him popular enough.

Sir Humphrey rode up, about then, and stopped, looking at the animal to Anders’ side. He waved at it.

“Can you load that on the move?”

Anders whispered then, his face bland.

“If it’s needed. I could use some help, if we don’t want it to seem strange. The wagons will stop for a moment, so we can get it up. Everyone is going to be coming past our camp, for free meat. Some other things too, if I can find them.” There had been plants, things to eat that would be healthy and all that, but he’d been more focused on the meat, so far.

The large knight, his hair more of a rust color in the sunlight, when it was short, waved at him.

“Understood. Try to hurry, so we don’t have to pause for too long. It isn’t a scheduled stop.”

Then the man moved on, since his job wasn’t to chat with young boys, but rather to actually protect them from harm. About five minutes later a call came out, calling for a halt. That got everyone to slow, then stop, the words spreading back down the line, everyone doing their part to make the communication happen. Sir Daniel managed to stop about a hundred feet away, which had Anders pulling the great beast along the ground. Very slowly. The thing still only weighed in at about ten pounds, and he was gasping a bit still, and had been, but he needed to make it seem like he was doing a tremendous amount of work.

True, it was still selling his strength as much greater than it was, but no one seemed to notice that part. One of the men from two wagons ahead came back at a quick walk.

“Need a hand there, son?”

He nodded.

“Fen.” Then he shook his head a bit, gasping. “We could use that, we need to load this on the barrels there. Lifting is a lot harder than dragging, so that would be appreciated.” That wasn’t wrong at all. After jogging through the forest with the animal, his mind wasn’t ready for what actually loading it at full weight would be like. In the end, it took six of them to do it. The second it was secured, one of the men yelled.

“Loaded and ready to move!”

Anders had to scramble then, to tie the animal in place, so it wouldn’t fall out as the wagon jolted and rumbled down the road.

Ten minutes later, everyone was moving again. He took the reins, but had to pass them to Sir Daniel, ten times or so, in order to slip off and collect things as they moved. That was mainly leaves, a few berries and some roots. By the time they stopped for the evening he had a large heap of the things in the back of the wagon.

They also had an hour of daylight left, though that would fade shortly, given the time of the year. Anders had figured that he’d end up doing most of that part, setting up for the night, but they weren’t using tents, so all that was needed was securing the animals, then setting up a fire pit, the metal spit in the back, and the large stew pot.

His assistant, Ery, rode over, and looked at the mess of greens and the large elk.

“I’ll just... You know, I have no idea what to do with any of this.” His voice was playful at least, instead of exhausted sounding.

That was a good sign. When he got off his horse, it was clear that he was limping a bit from the day’s travel. Anders would have been as well had he been on a horse for that long. He’d gotten some conditioning to riding in the last months, but it faded as fast as it came, or so he’d heard. It wasn’t as bad for the knights, in the main. They rode daily, or nearly so and had to, in order to keep their horses in condition and trained. It worked for them as well, that way, so they were fine.

They also knew what to do in order to set up a camp. Anders, instead of searching for fire wood and buckets of water, had those delivered, by the squires. That meant he simply lit the thing, using magic. He looked around first, and then pretended to be using a flint and tinder on it. It was faster to use his other skills, meaning he had a fire going first thing. Everyone else was slower that way, at least among those around his immediate position.

He laid out his equipment first, including an oil cloth that was treated in a way that refused blood, without making the meat taste bad.

“We butcher this next. Then wash and cut up the greens and bitters, and boil the roots. The meat first, since it will take the longest to cook. We have time to roast it though, on the spit, Small chunks, about the size of my fist.” It was common to go larger than that, but half the people would end up with mainly raw meat, in that case. He liked his meat pink, not bleeding.

Anders had helped butcher animals before, and done it himself a few times, but they still kind of managed to make a mess by the time people were coming around to get their share of things. It wasn’t so poorly done that anyone refused to eat the meat, but a few smiled at their rather clumsy attempts. When the woman from earlier came over, with three of her friends from the wagon, she waved at him.

“Hello again. Now, we just get to select out what we want?” There was an array of things on the oil cloth, and even with hundreds of people, only about ten had actually come to get anything so far. They’d gotten a lot of meat each time, so hopefully the plan was to share. That seemed correct, at least.

“Hello, Mary.” He stopped for a minute, nearly bowed, then didn’t since it wasn’t a thing for these people, in particular. “Oh, I’m Andy. This is Ery. Yes. Get enough food for you and the people back in your camp. Eat the greens and roots, too. You only get a share of what I can collect on the road or hunt each day, and that only after I feed my charges. If we have days where I can’t collect enough for everyone... Well, you know that one.”

She nodded then.

“Right. In that case, we have to take you up our nethers in order to make it worth your while. Got it. Well, even getting things given to us part of the time is worth that. It’s the job, after all. Really, that’s a good value, given all this. I’d thought we were just going to barter for some meat, to be honest.”

He rolled his eyes then. Not that he corrected the woman. After all, even if he wasn’t going to be making use of their services in trade, some of the other men there might want to. Plus, if she was willing to trade that kind of work, she might be willing to do other things. Things with greater value to him, personally. He looked at the woman and shrugged.

“Right. Though, if you’re willing to do some other things in trade, we might need help with cooking, at times. If we can cook up anything not used, it will keep better, for the morning.”

The lady gave him a strange look and then shrugged.

“Sure thing then. I can do that. Turn a spit or whatever. Betha, you know how to do that kind of thing, don’t you?” She seemed serious enough and the girl she was talking to, who looked to be about the same age as Erold, nodded.

“I do, since it was what my mother taught me. I could help with that... sir.” She sounded very unsure of herself, as if she might not be allowed to speak, for some reason.

“Call me Andy. Anyway, get what you need. There should be enough for everyone.” That was the truth, since most had brought more than enough food with them. Stored things, like flour and ground oats, which stored well enough and could be packed down, so they didn’t take up too much space. Fat and sugar or a sweet of some kind, like honey, was in the mix as well.

He had spices in little tins, himself, so what he was planning for the evening meal would taste better than what many would be making, he didn’t doubt.

The ladies picked through what he’d gotten, fairly carefully, and packed off a tidy amount of food that really was about what eight people would need, for one meal. He started into his own cooking then, even as others came to see if they were really being given a share of things. Everyone seemed surprised when they actually were and that he wasn’t making them pay anything for it. Most of them seemed to think that they should be, and a few tried, several times, to at least trade for it.

He waved that away, though he relented a bit.

“Later, if I need something and you can help with it?”

That was spoken several times, and didn’t really make them all happy or anything, but most of the men and women seemed to think it was a serious enough offer. At least they took the food provided, after that. If he’d ever see anything from it, he didn’t know.

The meal that evening, meat and a thick stew, with hard travel bread to soak it up, was decent, for being on the road. The bread had been made the day before, and would last about a week before going bad. They also had hard rations, baked so that there was no water in them, which would cut their mouths like glass shards, if they weren’t boiled well first. His plan was to make some real bread that evening, if he had the time for it. It would be done in the dark, but he could use magic to make certain it wasn’t burned, if he was careful enough.

That work had to be done while he was at supper, the rest of the people traveling with him, around the fire, as he worked and used his second largest pot to hold three small loaves at the bottom, making a small pit in the ground and burying the whole thing in coals. That had to be changed once or twice each baking cycle, and the lid needed to be left askew a bit, so that the water would bake off, but it worked pretty well. Not as much as a real oven would have, but he wasn’t going to be building one of those every night as they traveled.

For one thing, they took days to dry, even with a fire in them, if you did it right.

Still, bread baking, while it needed care, yeast and time, didn’t require him to actively work the whole time, so he sat, a bit away from the smoke of the fire pit, and ate his bowl of meat and stew, with the hard bread. It needed a bit more salt, which he didn’t add to his own portion, since he didn’t want to start the idea that people could rummage through his tins of spices like that. They were for cooking, only.

Which would last until people realized he had them and where they were. He wasn’t wrestling a knight to protect his pepper, after all.

No one thanked him for the food, once it was cooked, just eating it, since it was his task to prepare it for them. Sir Rob, what they were calling Prince Robarts for the trip out, moved to sit near him, along with Sir Humphrey.

“Anders... I mean, Andy, how are thing going for you, so far?”

It was a request for a report, as well as the man checking in with the child in the group, no doubt. The words sounded kind enough, at any rate.

“Well, so far. The oxen are willing to eat almost anything on the road, but I’ll collect some for them, before we start the first watch. For the horses, as well. Those are pickier. The weather will hold for the night and we might have some help coming, in cooking off the rest of the elk that leaves, for the morning meal. I have bread going right now, out of supplies, for the morning. I need to do another batch, if I can. We can have meat, bread and potage for first meal. If I can get up early enough, that is. Hard bread and cheese, possibly with some late fruit, if I can find anything like that, for mid-meal.” He thought for a moment, then spoke even more softly.

“There are no threats that I can find, so far. That will have to be checked a few times per day, of course. What do you have going on so far?” The question bordered on rude, but he didn’t mean it that way. The other man had been riding patrol, as a knight and guard all day. That meant he’d had a chance to observe and talk to people.

He looked away then.

“The last seventeen wagons are mainly camp followers. Wives and children of soldiers, planning to pick up tasks such as cooking and washing, once near the front. They really aren’t well prepared for the journey. They have some old horses and broken down wagons, too little food and the children are dressed in half rags. I... Don’t know what we can do for them. Probably nothing, given the conditions of travel.”

There was a glare at the man, from Sir Humphrey.

“It’s their responsibility to care for themselves, on a trip like this. If they can’t, they shouldn’t have come.”

The words were hard, even for a knight. The thing there was that they weren’t what the man normally sounded like at all. He seemed concerned, and like he might be hiding that fact behind gruff words and a hard face.

Anders nodded.

“Right. Well, I’ll try to keep what food I can coming in as we move. That might be enough that way. As for clothing, I... Well, I can fix what they have and do more if I can get some materials. That... I have a bit with me, but that’s for gambeson... I also don’t want to go around doing... Well, you know. Not openly.”

They both nodded at the words.

Prince Robarts took a deep breath.

“Still, if it’s down to children freezing or starving and you bearing the scorn of these people for a few weeks...”

He snorted at the Prince, who gave him a questioning look. As if he wasn’t used to that sort of response at all.

“Then we make sure that people are cared for. Clearly.” His voice sounded old for the moment, just as three women came into the circle of the fire light.

Anders waved, genially.

“Ah! These are Mary, the one in red, Betha in the yellow skirt and...” He had to shake his head then. “I’m sorry, I haven’t made your acquaintance, as of yet.

Mary waved at the woman in brown, with nice blue ribbon woven through her bodice.

“This is Neera. We came to help you, with your meat?”

The words got a string of laughs, even if Anders didn’t get it at all. They had meat and it needed to be cooked, so the help would be appreciated. He still had food, but moved away from it, to help get the ladies set up. One of the older men, Sir Norman, waved to the women.

“Are you taking trade? I could use a ride, if that isn’t an imposition...”

Anders got that one, at least. So he smiled.

“Fine to set up, but these ladies came to work. In exchange for food later, if there isn’t enough to go around. You should make arrangements for later, if that’s what they want to do.” He didn’t know how that kind of thing worked in the real world, he just didn’t want his new helpers stolen away before they even did anything.

Mary handled it well enough on her own, thankfully.

“That sounds nice. We can... Work out the details on that? We’re on the road for weeks, just up the way, so plenty of time for that. If your need is powerful, you might go forward to our camp and ask there? We have lots of lovely young ladies with us. Unless you see something you like here? In that case...”

She trailed off, which was probably a mistake on her part, since Anders interrupted her patter.

“In that case, wait for the meat to at least be started, so we can see how many of us it’s going to take? Sir Rob the Kind Hearted wishes for us to see about making certain that the women and children at the back have enough food and possibly some clothing to wear. I don’t know how to do that last one, but I might be able to collect a bit more food each day, now that I know.” That was the plan, except for the part where he was teasing a knight. Sir Humphrey didn’t do that, even while some of the others chuckled a little over the idea.

He just touched his chin, as if playing at considering something.

“It is spoken that Sir Rob is the most gentle of spirits, off the battle field. Brave on it, so we shouldn’t mock him, Andy. We might be able to get you some aid in that hunting, if you need it. Faine and... Ery. We’ll need the rest to keep on our guard, at least after the first few days.” He shook his head and made direct eye contact with Anders. “That’s a problem with such details. The time spent close to town is relatively safe, so by the time we’re in actual danger, everyone will be comfortable, which will let thieves try to sneak in or attacks to come. At least once we’re closer to the border.”

Mary didn’t speak to the knight, directly, since he was clearly in charge. Instead she glanced at Anders and smiled.

“You have helpers already? That’s coming up in the world a bit I bet. Then, you’re already a...” She stopped then and frowned for a second. Then realized that might seem mean, so added a flash of a smile to the end. “You have me there. I’ve never seen a boy your age going about dressed like a fine knight, I have to say. You’re their cook? The hunter too, except...”

The woman shook her head, giving Neera, the black haired one with the dark skin and coal black eyes a chance to speak.

“I know, Vero the wagoner said he saw you dragging a full-grown buck elk, alone. Not one man in twenty can do that. That’s a bit strange-like, isn’t it?”

Everyone went silent for a moment, since it really was. For his part, Anders just shrugged.

“Maybe, but I’ll tell you this, hoisting it in the air over a branch pretty much took the skin from my palms.” He held those out, for proof. They did look red, but weren’t that bad, really.

Sir Humphrey simple waved those thoughts away.

“Anders is the head page for the castle. He’s being trained to carry messages for the kingdom. I have no clue why he’s hunting and cooking for us, but I’m not going to tell him not to do that, are you?” Those words broke the tension that had been forming, pretty well.

It was Ery, who was a squire, so had a reason to be dressed as he was, who spoke then.

“Andy works hard, all the time. If he’s on the road, he has to be able to fight well enough to make sure any messages or packages get through. The Guard Captain makes him fire three hundred arrows a day, I heard. He has to practice fighting full guards, as well. That’s just his training so far. I don’t know what else will be required of him, to be honest. He gets a few years, before that, I think.” He glanced at the other knights there, as if one of them would back him up in his lie.

Robarts did, chuckling a bit.

“More riding, I think. You earned that by being good at passing messages in the castle, didn’t you, Andy?” There was a bit of poking to the tone, as if that might not be the truth.

So he frowned a bit and then nodded at Mary.

“The honest truth is that I was pretty good at hiding from work, so one of the servants put my name in for the position, with a recommendation that it might mean I’d be hard to catch.” He hung his head then, as if in real shame.

It was funny, but Anders actually felt it for a second. Farad didn’t, even though he could tell the other portion of him was going through an actual lesson, in the moment. The one where he learned the value of reputation.

Squire Faine, across the fire from him, made a soft sound and waved a hand.

“Still, he has the position now and I’ve not heard anyone complain about him. I know that my belly won’t be aching this night, thanks to him, so... We should see to that roasting? We are doing it that way, right? I’m not really certain how that kind of thing is done.”

Anders had that down, so went through it, carefully.

Really, they only needed five people to keep all the meat turning correctly, as long as they kept an eye on it. Four would work in a pinch, but that’s what he had, since Ery had to go and tend the animals. That simply meant Anders hopping back and forth, like a mad man, until it was time for the first watch. He was on that one, though Sir Humphrey allowed that he could spend part of the time making sure the bread would keep and that the meat was stored away properly for the night.

For the watch, he got his spear out of the wagon. He needed to do his nightly bow exercises, too, if he could, but if a real attack came, it was too hard to shoot in the dark. Then, standing in place, he used his wizard skills to check on everything. Most of the people with them had turned in for the night, but there were some who were restless and a few that seemed up to no good. At least in their intent. He opened his eyes, moving carefully in the dark, ready to act if it was needed.

It wasn’t, of course. Not yet. A few of the men seemed eager enough to have time with the women with them, but lacked a way of doing that via trade or coin. It shocked Farad when he realized that at least one of them was just going to wait and try to catch one of the women alone, if he could. Then force her to do what he wanted.

To that man, it seemed safe enough. Whores were so distrusted when it came to that kind of relations that they wouldn’t even bother reporting it.

Anders followed the thoughts to a man near the first third of the camp, the big meadow they were in being backed by a stream. He simply marked who the fellow was, and decided to watch him. After all, thinking about a crime and doing it were different things.

Which didn’t mean Anders didn’t collect the man’s name, going deeply into a trance and picking through his thoughts for the correct information. It wasn’t all that pleasant, since the man had done such things before, on previous journeys. Mainly about ten years back, in the last war. It was too risky for him to do that kind of thing at other times.

His name, Rofer Keen, leapt out, into Anders awareness, from the blackness he was in at the moment. He drifted over to the hall of memories, changing the character of the trance, in order to affix the name and other information there, so he wouldn’t forget it. Then, since he had a job to do, even if it wasn’t a real thing in anyone else’s mind, he walked the rounds, until it was time for the next shift. That meant he had to wake Squire Elson, who took some shaking to rouse.

Then he got his bow out and pulled it three hundred times, aiming in his mind, so that he’d stay in condition for the work, later. It was hard, since Captain Ford had insisted he go up in power on the bow again. Not double his old bow, thankfully. Half again stronger though, which meant his hands and shoulders ached when he finally laid down and curled into a ball, under the wagon. It gave him a real, if low, roof and meant that he was right there, to guard the goods in it, if anyone decided that a spot of theft was a good idea.

It was interesting, but the feeling at the camp was that anyone bothering to steal from them would sneak in, rather than attempting to challenge the guards they had, outright. He’d felt that, as he moved around, in the dark. No one had called to him, staying near their own fires, for safety. It largely stayed that way, until he heard movement around him. He sat up, the wagon high enough for him to do that without hitting his head, then crawled out quickly, ready to start casting spells, if it was needed.

It wasn’t, thankfully. People were just getting up for the day, since there was light on the edge of the horizon already. Anders rubbed his face, muttered his cleaning spells without thinking, and used a new one to care for his mouth and teeth. It left him cleaner than doing it the normal way, but was strange enough that he didn’t really love doing it. Things flew from his mouth and teeth, rushing away with a sound that buzzed on the inside of his skull.

He used the remaining wood to build the fire back up, and ran to the stream, to get a pot of water, which he set to boiling. Then, wincing a bit, thinking of the children who might not have anything to eat that day, except what he provided, he closed his eyes, and tried to find some food for them. There was, about half a mile off the road, a nice grove of wild apples and some late berries that hadn’t been consumed by the bears yet.

If he had a real name for them, he could have simply called the things to himself. They were too small though, which meant that the only way for him to get at them would be to physically go there and collect something up. In what was essentially the dark. On the good side, he could use magic for that, if he got within ten paces, so he wasn’t going to have to climb a tree in the dim, early, light.

Thinking about it, he rummaged for a few canvas sacks, out of the back of the wagon, in his own gear, and then, hoping he didn’t get himself killed by falling down, tried to dash to the trees. That didn’t really work, until he dropped into a trance, using his wizard skills for it. Even that wasn’t perfect, since it wasn’t truly seeing, but he managed not to fall every ten steps, and made better time.

The simple part was filling the things. One had large, very ripe, gosberries in it. The pale green fruits were slightly hairy on the outside, and a little sour on the inside, but were considered a treat. Each one was the size of an egg, which meant they were strong enough to be carried in a bag, if he was gentle with it. The apples were hardier, naturally. The ones he found were the half-sour type. Red and orange colored on the outside, making good pies, if you had enough sugar. Which he did, of course.

There were also a mix of other berries and even some nuts, that he managed to call to himself as he walked, trotting again, back to the camp. In order to make it work, he had to cause the bags to float along with him, since they were too heavy for him to carry over that kind of distance, otherwise.

He also got more roots and greens in, as well as some wild garlic and almost by chance, some honey comb. True, he had to flee from some bees, and the treat was only the size of four of his hands put together, and two of them high, but it was worth it, Anders thought. At least as long as they didn’t catch him in the camp, and sting him in retaliation.

Not that he could blame them for it. They worked hard to make the honey and he was simply stealing it from them. Not that he wasn’t going to do it again, if he could find more of it. There was nothing in the area, that he could find.

Above him, the sky was a lighter blue at the edges and still dark above, when he floated the two and a half large sacks of food into the camp, trailing in the air behind him. No one saw him doing it, but there was no other way, other than magic, for him to explain where the things came from.

Rather than worry about that, he set to work, chopping bits of cooked elk, sweetening it with some of the honey he’d collected, and then frying it before making the fine powdered oats which would be the first meal. That and the soft bread he’d made the night before.

Many people were up already, seeing to animals and making whatever they were eating that day, by the time the squires and knights went to the stream to wash up and came back to their makeshift camp. One of them, Sir Norman, sniffed the air and nodded at him.

“That’s pleasant. There’s honey?”

He lifted his head then, and nodded.

“I found some, earlier. Some other things as well. It’s in the back of the wagon.”

The fellow, who was trustworthy, being a knight like he was, walked over and looked at the sacks, poking around. When he came back, the man heaved a sigh.

“It’s too much, you know that, right? Just having this will mean magic, to some of these folks. Then, I say it’s not that large of a matter. They won’t care if magic is about, if it’s filling their bellies and keeping them safe.”

Screwing up his face, Anders tilted his head, then went back to stirring the thickened gruel in the heavy pot, to prevent burning. The meat was already added in, so the tan food had some dark brown bits in it. There was enough for each person traveling with them to have a full bowl. Others were joining them, so he waved at Sir Norman, who rubbed at his short blond hair, then his thick mustache. That was shorn on the sides, which wasn’t how he used to wear it, at a guess.

Everyone came by, to get some of the still fresh bread, their portion of pottage and a few pieces of fruit. The gosberries were the most popular, being sweeter than the apples. Anders took some of both, needing the extra food like he did. No one else mentioned the new food, but he got some looks that told him they understood where it had come from.

The trouble there wasn’t in them knowing about it, of course.

As he finished his bowl, using a piece of bread as a scoop for it, Anders waved his hand.

“Ery and I will wash up. We need to get packed and ready to leave at first light, I bet. We should hurry.” He sounded a bit like he thought he might be in charge, so he looked at Sir Humphrey. “Is that right, I mean?”

The knight looked at him as if he might just catch a blow to the side of the head for his cheek and presumption, then nodded.

“Good call. Let’s get everything packed up and ready. We need riders out front. Sir Norman and Sir Rob, you’ll see to that today, please. A word, Page Andy?” His voice was a bit angry sounding, which wouldn’t be a good thing.

Anders, the boy inside, winced, but Farad simply moved toward the other man, ready to be yelled at, scolded or possibly struck. He’d made a mistake and didn’t doubt that it would be corrected.

The fellow rubbed his right temple, as if fighting a headache. Anders had a spell for pain, which could work for that, if he used it carefully. It was meant to deaden all pain though, in case someone was in dire pain, such as after losing a limb or being horribly burned. Practice wasn’t a poor idea though, and he could do a smaller version of it.

Before he could mention that, the other man turned to him.

“Do we have a report on what to expect ahead?”

“I have one, for this area. I was mainly looking for food earlier. Um... Last night, I found a man in the camp, Rofer Keen. He’s planning to rape one of the ladies traveling with us. The whores. He figures that they won’t tell anyone, because they won’t be believed if they do. He’s done it before, but that was over ten years ago.” He waited, in case the other man wanted him to do something, like check ahead of them. It was common sense, but he hadn’t thought of that, in particular, that day.

The lack of it stung a bit, since it was actually part of his task on the trip. Yes, his self-assigned one, but forgetting that portion was a poor plan.

Sir Humphrey simply nodded.

“That happens. I’ll look into the man and give him a hint or two that anyone doing that kind of thing here will end up dead on the side of the road. Profer Keen, you said?”

Looking at the man, Anders tightened his face.

“Rofer Keen, I think. I’ll do that check now... I’m rather failing at keeping things quiet, about what I can do. Sir Norman pointed that out, earlier. I can get food in and do things... But not from hiding. I really thought I could, yesterday, but...” He felt horrible, admitting he wasn’t up to the task he’d been assigned.

Anders felt himself tearing up, which surprised him. The muscular man in front of him patted him on his mail covered shoulder.

“Then do it another way. If we need magic and have it, pretending we don’t, aids no one.”

He closed his eyes then, and looked ahead of them. There were several places along the road ahead where they could get water, but the Caravan Master knew them all, already. There were animals along the way, which he muttered about, and, in a small camp, six brigands who had come to try their guards.

They were off to the left, about seven miles ahead.

Keeping his eyes closed, he spoke.

“They have swords, bows, no real skill with either, but they can and will kill, if need be. The plan is to follow us and sneak in at night, letting us pass them.” He found something else, so nodded. “They’re near a herd of wild cattle. I can take some of those, later in the day.” One of them at least. Though, he could freeze things, after butchering, if he didn’t have to hide who and what, he was any longer.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Sir Humphrey had a map out and Sir Rob was with him, pointing at something. When they noticed him joining them, Prince Robarts pointed at the map in his hands.

“Do you have a location we can mark, Master Brolly?” The words sounded strange, but no one there reacted to it.

Not even him. He simply moved in and pointed at the right area.

“They’re just about here, right now. Near the river on the left side of the road, near the bend. Six. They have horses and a medium cart, to carry away goods.”

There was a nod then from Sir Humphrey, who pointed at the map, then took out a grease pencil and marked where the attackers were. After a moment, he shrugged. It made the bronze colored armor glint slightly in the early light.

“I need to let the Caravan Master know what’s going on. Be ready to ride. Brolly, keep us apprised of what movements you can track while we travel.”

The man turned then, and moved away at a quick walk, leaving the rest of them to pack things away, or in his case, wash up. Prince Erold did try to help with that chore. Poorly. Then, it wasn’t amazing to find out the boy had never washed a dish before. Even while camping out, or in his own training. There were always people to do that kind of thing for him.

The Prince hissed a bit, while washing bowls, the large pot and the pan in the stream. Anders dried them, using magic, since it worked better than using a cloth would. Anders snapped his gaze to the boy, since the sound was unusual.

“I should go and fight these men. Instead, I’m going to be left back here, peeling fruit and protecting the wagon, I wager.” There was a sense of misery from the blonde young man.

Anders rolled his eyes. Then recalled what Depak Sona had told him. That it was important not to protect people too much. Even if his first thought honestly was to try and do just that for the royalty in their midst. After all, he’d just had to teach Erold how to wash a dish. That didn’t inspire confidence.

Except that the other boy had been trained to fight, had good armor and even weapons. What he lacked in homely tasks such as washing up, he actually made up for in what was being planned that day. Of course, sending in Erold, alone, or with a half dozen full knights just meant he’d be there at the ambush, while doing little to nothing real. If that was what would happen, he might as well stay back with the wagons.

They got the work done and everything loaded, oxen and horses ready, well before the call came to move out. After that, with almost a mile behind them already, Sir Humphrey rode over to him, having made a line back to him nearly directly.

“Any news?”

He nodded at the man, who was riding near enough to talk, if not secretly. He was off to the left, his large charger prancing a little proudly. Brownie eyed the tan horse with a bit of suspicion, even if they probably knew each other, from the stables. Anders didn’t have much, but he had checked, twice.

“They’re awake for the day, but haven’t moved at all yet. Not even to get ready. I don’t think they know that we’re coming today. Just that a caravan of goods will be past soon.” Really, he was certain on that point, but didn’t want to be too firm that way. “You know, you should send the squires for this. These men aren’t great fighters, and...” Taking a shuddering breath, he went on. “And the truth is, they need a taste of battle, of the reality of it, before we get to the front and they have to face an army. I know, that might not happen. This time. It will eventually. If they aren’t ready... Well, then they aren’t.”

He waited then, half expecting the man to tell him how foolish and wrong he was. He felt that way, now that the words were out. Sending boys to murder men like that was a horrible thing to do.

The knight took a deep breath, then smiled.

“Good thinking. I’d planned to have them hold back to guard the caravan, while half of the knights rode out. Five to six... That’s not even odds. Are you going with them?”

He shook his head.

“That... I could sneak in and kill them all, but that’s not the point. We’ll send Ery with them. Faine can lead?” He didn’t know that at all, but he was the Squire of the lead Knight.

The other man grumped at him then, hiding a bit of a smile.

“He could, but I think... Squire Howard should do that part. He’s solid, is good at strategy and the oldest. Here, let me...” He looked around then simply yelled. Loud. “Squires to Brolly’s wagon!”

That got echoed and called out in both directions, forward and back. It went on for a while, with the riders in tan and mail coming at them at good speed, over the next few minutes. When they were all there, the head Knight held his right hand up. Nothing else was needed to gain their attention.

“We have a threat. Thieves planning to trail after us and steal in the night. Six of them. They’re off to the left side of the road, ahead. Here, come look at the map.”

They did that from the saddle, which took more skill that way than Anders had yet. Even Erold managed it easily enough to look like the others. When they all had the needed information, Humphrey spoke again.

“You six will ride ahead and remove them from the world. They should have horses and a cart. Bring those back, if possible. Squire Howard is in charge. The rest of us will be back here, so if you get into trouble...” He smiled then and laughed. It sounded a bit dark. “Then get yourselves out of it. Work together and use your training. We have lances in the other wagon. Any questions?” The man looked at Howard for that.

That squire looked affably odd, having bucked teeth and red hair. His ears were too large for his head and his face wasn’t the same on both sides. He was sturdy looking though, and seemed nearly like a full knight already, not seeming nervous about the task at all. He did have questions, good ones, which were answered by Anders going into a trance, openly. Then, armed that way, the six rode off.

Sir Humphrey watched them leave, moving to the front, where the other wagon was.

“Now they either return men or dead. This is going to make for a tense morning, Master Brolly. Are you going out hunting?”

That made sense, given the others were going to face possible death. It made it sound like he was playing and having fun, while they did it.

“I think that the early portion will be spent gathering plants, if I can. Then getting some wild cattle, later this afternoon. I might be able to turn the hides into tough, warm clothing, for the children and their mothers. Possibly not. I’ve never done that before, but it should work. We can only carry so much food with us, at once, of course.”

The knight seemed to think for a bit, and didn’t answer, for nearly an hour. He actually rode away, and came back, later. From the back of the line.

“They have some room, in their wagons. We can part the food out to everyone and spread the load that way. At least the food for the day. Get that in. Keep an eye on the boys? If they get into trouble... Can you do anything from here?”

Anders had to think then, and shook his head.

“Not at all. I can watch, but they’re on their own.”

The man nodded, then rode off again. Next to him, Sir Daniel shook his head.

“Well. Let’s just hope none of them die. If we lose a Prince, we might as well kill ourselves at first opportunity, you know that, don’t you?”

The thing there was that he honestly did know that. It made for a nerve wracking several hours. Even as he watched everything unfold.

Chapter eight

It was fascinating, watching the battle unfold at a distance, in a trance state like Anders was using. His mind focused on the happenings, but no emotional background came from inside himself. He felt the fear of the squires as they rode into the camp, surround it and scattering the men inside of it as they sat, or in one case, went to look for more firewood.

Then he felt the panic of the bandits, as they were chased down and died. Two of them managed to swing their swords around, but the lances of the riders ended them in a quick fashion. The one man that was run through, yet still lived, was hacked to death by Squire Howard. The funny looking man was cold about it, simply ending the suffering of the thief, much as he would have a wounded animal. After that, they all stood around, waiting for what seemed like several moments. Counting the six dead men, several times to make certain they had them all.

Anders smiled then, and spoke softly. Loud enough that Daniel, Robarts and Humphrey could hear him as he bounced along in the wagon.

“They have them all. Squire Howard ordered a search of the area, to make certain they didn’t miss anyone, even if the count is correct. There were no real injuries, on our side. A few minor bruises. Mainly from hitting themselves with their own weapons as they moved.”

There was a very soft voice from the side. Anders couldn’t tell who was speaking however, his attention on that spot, some three miles ahead of them.

“I always do that as well, outside of plate.”

Some while later, still watching them, he was able to go on.

“They’re laying the dead out, and collecting what they had with them. Then the plan is to wait for us to reach them, instead of coming back this way, carrying everything.”

He opened his eyes then, still deep enough that his affect was flat and probably seemed slow or a little like he was gone in the head. Anders looked over at the others, with all of them smiling a bit. No one spoke as to why that was, but it was mainly relief that no one had died, on their side. At the same time, they’d removed six problems from the future of their land.

Blinking a bit, he waited, then noted that the others had simply ridden away. After saying something to Sir Daniel and himself. He hadn’t noticed what that was at all. Stopping for a moment, he shook himself, trying to come upward, toward the surface of his mind. Finally, after a minute, he nodded.

“I need to get to collecting up some plants. I’m just going to use magic for it. Um... Let me...” He waited for the man next to him to glance over, and then nod.

Sir Daniel sighed.

“Be careful. Oh, also, have you checked in with the castle? I don’t know if there’s a plan for that.”

There wasn’t, specifically. Master Tolan had learned to use the message spell well enough for most of the King’s communications to the front. Anders knew the man wasn’t as quick as he was that way, in writing the spell out each time and he made some minor mistakes, on occasion, so words came out wrong, but he was getting better and could make himself understood clearly enough that no one had felt that Anders needed to do more than check in, occasionally.

Doing it right then, he was able to check in with a few people, inside a very short period of time. Master Depak was worried over a report he’d gotten from home, as well as the state of his room servant Daren, who seemed upset that day, and Princess Aisla was working on practicing her magic, in secret. She noticed him watching, but didn’t attempt to communicate. Master Tolan worked out that he was watching him, and did the same in return.

That meant they were able to simply talk, after a fashion. He took a moment, reported the successful attack, the nature of it and who was involved on both sides, then realized that Master Tolan also wanted a more specific breakdown, when the men involved could report. After all, Prince Erold had been involved directly. It made the rather minor event a good bit more important, to his parents.

He nodded then.

“I’ll need to work up a real report later, but Master Tolan has the basics. For now... I need to see to some roots. That and mushrooms. I’ll meet you up ahead.”

He climbed straight back into the wagon, pulled three empty large canvas sacks, which left him with only one that wasn’t in use, and carefully hopped down, his light weight not hurting too much when he hit the dirt. From there he walked to the woods, on the right side of the road, where it was a bit damper. That would be good for mushrooms, he thought. Growing things in general, in fact.

The collection process was a lot more manual in nature, since he had to find items that were growing under other things, instead of simply denuding a single tree or bush. It actually took less energy to do it by hand. He used the skills of the wizard to find where the roots where, which helped a lot. He also found another bee hive, that he would have simply missed totally, if he hadn’t used magic for it and bothered to look for it specifically. Actually, he found six of the things, but only one was in easy walking distance. Not wanting to lose the time, he simply got the closer one, using magic and a bit of fast walking to escape the bees that were upset over the loss of their hard work. He also collected a lot of bitters and herbs, for flavoring. In all it was a varied and rather nice collection of food stuffs. No grains, of course. They didn’t grow in the forest, after all.

This time he didn’t need to use magic to carry the sacks with him, even though the one with the roots was weighty enough to give a serving to about half the people in the caravan. Stretched with travel bread and meat, with a bit of fruit on the side and it would be enough for the late meal. His forearms ached by the time he loaded everything in the back of the wagon, wedging the food in place between some barrels and a box or two. Then he hopped up into the wagon and put his hands out for the reins.

“Sorry. You aren’t here to be a driver, just show me what to do. I feel lazy. I’ve barely been driving at all.” Not a bit, that day.

The Knight snorted.

“I wouldn’t put it that way. There is a point there. It’s your wagon, after all. What did you get?”

He listed it all off, the man going wide eyed when the sack of honeycomb was mentioned. Anders had tucked it all into one sticky bag, which was about a quarter full. Most of it would be wax, of course.

Sir Daniel grinned.

“That’s a good find. People on the road don’t get sweet things too often, and can’t afford to bring them. Some might be willing to trade for some honey, I wager. Then, they would for the other food as well, if they can.”

That wasn’t his plan, but he got the basic idea, or at least an idea, that the other man might, or may not, have been getting at.

“You mean to use that to collect up some items that could help the poor in the back of the line? That’s a good thought. I don’t know how to do things like that. I... Really, I’ve never been taught what to do with coin or goods like that.”

The man next to him nodded then.

“I really haven’t, either. No knight has. We have enough, and more for the most part, but the managing of gold is generally in the hands of others. You know, I bet... Um, Rob, would have that kind of thing down better than we would. Barring that, maybe someone in the line could do it for us?” The fellow shrugged and looked forward, at the other wagons there.

It might work. Then, he might be able to learn the needed skills himself, if he paid attention. Other people managed it, after all. He’d seen some purchases being made now, most in the last days, and the people the night before had seemed eager enough to barter for goods or services with him for the meat and other food.

That had to be a secondary concern, however. His primary mission was to get to the front and take care of food for those with him. The women and children that needed some aid weren’t his responsibility. Not the first one, at least. Besides, once everyone worked out that he was using magic for things like he was, they might not be willing to deal with him at all. He honestly didn’t know how people outside of the castle would respond to things like that.

Inside it, the results had been mixed for him, so far.

At about the point where his stomach was demanding the mid-meal, they got to stop to water the horses and oxen, as well and get some for themselves. That was, oddly enough, very near the bend in the road where the bandits had been waiting. Not that it wasn’t understandable. They’d stayed by the stream, knowing that a caravan would know it was near the road there for a long stretch, so would stop, allowing them to follow along, later.

He wasn’t found immediately by the others, not being needed for anything for a moment. What he did do was start to work out the needed spell, to communicate what had taken place that day. There had to be an interview, but he actually knew most of the facts already. What he had to do was make certain what he knew was what the others agreed had taken place.

That happened as the squires and knights rode by to get their mid-meal. That was travel bread, fruit and cheese. Anders ate his own quickly, and after asking about what had taken place, started to mutter the complicated spell. It took about three minutes to set it all in motion. He set it to repeat four times, and speak directly to the ear of Princess Aisla. Master Tolan was working, and might miss part of the message, so it made sense to go with someone else at the moment.

When he checked, after the first repeat, using his other magical skills, the woman had the message mainly written down. She had to make corrections, and then walk it to the King. Anders had promoted the danger of the whole thing a bit and made the squires sound rather heroic, but that was the nature of such reports. Every historian knew that. Plus, this way he could make Prince Erold seem brave. He had been. All the boys had done their duty, and if they’d been afraid, well, that hadn’t shown too much on the outside. Plus, only one person had been there to notice it happening and he’d failed to mention it to anyone at all.

A call went up, which was different than he would have figured on happening.

“Six bandits dead! Six bandits dead! Prepare to travel!”

Anders called that out as well, when it was his turn, since it passes from wagon to wagon, going back. They were making good time, so far, which meant that he needed to pass the reins over to the knight again, frown at his own lack of doing his work of the moment, and then got his bow and ten arrows out.

“There are wild cattle in the area. I’ll get what I can. Then... We need some way to carry it. I can’t butcher it on the move.”

The other man nodded.

“Got it. I’ll see if I can work that out. Check for attack first? I know that you found these last ones, but that doesn’t mean more haven’t moved into the area. Even if that is unlikely.”

He did that, since it was basically both common sense and good magical discipline that Anders was certain Master Tolan would approve of. Naturally, he didn’t find anything, except that he needed to get to the cattle quickly, since they weren’t too far from the road at the moment. He had to run again, his feet and behind hurting, mainly from travel and all the running he’d been doing that day. This time he came back to the road after jogging around the rangy, free, cows and killed them with several arrows that took three of them down instantly and crippled a fourth, as the others in the herd fled for their lives. The dying beast bellowed in pain. Feeling sad about it, Anders dashed in and slashed the things throat. He was almost on the road, visible from it, when the lead wagon came into view. He simply started to work on stringing the things up to bleed, one at a time, panting as he used magic for it, because even being thin, they were still cows, which meant huge.

As the first drained, over a tree branch, with tripled rope being used to hang it up, the Caravan Master walked over, eyeing the four beasts.

“I see... I think, at least. What do we need to do for this?”

It was clear to Anders that the older man was confused by the sight in front of him. The heavy animal was far too great a weight for the small boy to have hoisted over the tree branch, even though it was clear that had, indeed, taken place. On top of that, the child was still breathing hard, as if doing great work.

Between sucking in huge lungs full of air, Anders let his head range from side to side. The attempt was at seeming friendly. After all, he had to travel with these people for another few weeks, at the very least. Being driven out of the caravan wouldn’t aid him in any way and could cause other problems if it happened.

“We need to bleed all of these, then skin them and part them out...” He sighed, his clever plans of not being known to have magic at all already having fallen to the side. “Then I can freeze the meat, for later. That’s a bit of work, but once it turns solid, it’s easy enough to keep it that way.” Honestly, he could freeze it in the moment, then let the spell drop on it, as soon as that happened.

At least for what they were having that night, when they stopped.

The Caravan Leader squinted at him a bit, then looked at the dead cows. There was not particular fear in his eyes, just a bit of distrust.

“Well, I did hear that you and your helper made a hash of trying to skin the deer last night. I’ll ask around and see if anyone can help you do that proper like. You’re still sharing the meat around for free? This is a lot of it and people will trade for it, even early on the trip like this. Some felt as if they might be cheating you, yesterday.” The man watched the red blood trickle out of the one suspended cow while he spoke, as if mesmerized. The wagons kept moving past, at a slow but steady rate.

That meant they had a real enough time schedule to keep.

Anders just shrugged at the fellow.

“One of the knights suggested that we should make sure the little ones with us have food and good clothing. Anyone that wants to help with that would be... Appreciated. I have some greens and roots again, as well, for later. Some fruit, too. It isn’t perfect food...”

That got waved away, almost instantly.

“Perhaps. It’s also better than what most can get for themselves on the road, lest they had it at the start. If you can manage some grains and sweets, they’ll probably hoist you on their shoulders and carry you the rest of the way. Even if you are an evil magic user.” There was a grin, when he spoke the last words, as if he were jesting.

Anders just nodded.

“It was decided that I could try to hide that part, or actually help some people. I just hope no one gets too distressed over it. The magic portion.”

The older fellow turned back to the cows and then shrugged.

“Makes it harder to fear you, if you’re looking out for everyone like this. You seem a bit young, to be sent off to the front. I guess I can see it, if you can use your wizardry to find things like animals to hunt. You the one that found the bandits or are there more of you hidden in our ranks?”

Snorting, just a bit, making his face into what he hoped was a wry grin, he rolled his eyes a bit.

“It was me. I’m really just the one passing messages for the King, though. That part is true. It’s stretching things a bit to claim that I’m the head page, of course. I was never truly one of them, just being a boy who was asked to pass messages at times.”

That got an honest laugh, for some reason. Then the man patted him on the shoulder, gently.

“Let me...” The man turned and set up another call.

“Six to skin cows and butcher! Six to skin cows and butcher!” It took a few minutes, but as people worked out where the animals were, they had closer to ten people there, to get in on the work. Two of them were the ladies from the evening before.

Mary and Betha. Anders waved at them.

“I have a bit of meat in. Oh, some honey, as well as fruit and greens. I’m trading the honey though, if you want to put that around? After this, I mean.”

Mary, seeming a bit run down from the trip already, managed a saucy look at him. Her brown hair was pulled back, efficiently enough, but a few wisps were out to the side and her clothing was already in need of a good cleaning. It was probably a thing that everyone needed to have seen to. He could do it for them later, he decided, if they weren’t going to be too afraid of him, having some magic going on.

Betha, who had seemed shy and a bit retiring the night before, moved in and touched his arm.

“What do you want for that honey? I could use my mouth on you?” She glanced at Mary, who looked away, a small smile on her face. There was a nod as well, as if that, a bit of sweetness, was the honest cost equivalent for such a task.

It could have been, even. Anders didn’t know and old Farad had even less sense of what such things would go for. Unlike the boy inside, however, who was actually considering that as a good trade, Farad recalled what the King, and others, had suggested to him. That he might be well served by avoiding such temptations for a time.

They had a bit of a struggle, for a few moments, with Farad winning out. Not by force of will, but rather by asserting that no woman, even a cute one like Betha, was worth going against the King for.

So he waved his right hand a bit.

“You and your friends already get some, for helping with the cooking. This too, but these others still have to barter for the honey, so don’t tell them about that part. I’m looking for cloth and clothing we can turn into things for the children with us to wear. I might be able to use these skins, as well, but that’s less certain. I can make some clothing, using magic, if I have materials to work from.” He’d made linen seem like leather and it was holding up pretty well, he had to admit.

That didn’t mean he could instantly make leather into warm and thick cloth. Really, he needed to work out how to alter things into wool, if he could. That was the warmest type of clothing that he knew of. He noticed as Betha went pale, at the mention of magic and even Mary, who was a bold sort of person, went still for a few moments. Then she nodded.

“We’ll put the word out for that, then. Now, I have no clue how to butcher one of these things. Betha does, so she can help with that. If she isn’t too afraid to work near you now? As if you aren’t the same boy that just made sure she could do honest chores for that honey, instead of plying our other trade for it?” She looked at her friend and then shrugged.

“A whore can’t afford to be that picky about who they service, Betha. Magic types have needs too and will come to you, if you don’t make it too hard for them. Besides, this is Andy. Acting like he’s scary suddenly, because he can make clothing is...” She grinned then. The other woman and some of the men from the caravan who had come to help out, nodded.

Betha took a deep breath.

“I know that. Even in the village we had an herb woman. We were always told to respect her. To fear her, really. We weren’t mean about it, but...”

That started a conversation, as people worked. Anders helped out, as he could, since they didn’t have a lot of time. One of the men, not bothering to introduce himself, just started to explain what was needed, for proper skinning.

“Here, like this. Use a short blade. One with a curved edge, like this. Then make a spread movement with your first two fingers and pull the flesh up from that under it. Work the blade in short bits, and slide along, cutting just a little at a time. Start at the bottom and work upward.” He also went over how to go around the legs and then, once they had the skin pulled off, how to cure it.

“That part isn’t hard. Take the brain out of the skull and rub it on the damp part. Just get in there and really drive it in.”

Anders wondered, for a moment, if the man were jesting with him on that bit, but Farad had actually heard of the technique before. They also needed a frame for the skins, which mean dashing into the woods and finding a few, fairly small, but strong and pliable trees to take down.

He cheated, using magic for that. Focusing on the correct form in his mind, he stuck out a closed fist, aimed at the trunk of the trees, then opened his fingers. That caused them to fall, in all but two cases. Then he gathered them up, dashing back to the man who had asked for them, about five minutes later.

The fellow saw the ends, which were rough and a bit splintered, but he didn’t ask why that was the case. He just got to work, Letting Anders skin the next three animals on his own. Betha and the others parted the meat out, a lot more efficiently than he would have managed on his own. Then he selected out the portions he wanted for late meal that night and gave them a partial freezing, muttering a new spell over them, to make that happen.

“These will thaw by meal time, I think. If not, I can do it using magic. The rest here... I need to freeze that solid, so it will stay that way. Then we can... Really, I don’t have room in my wagon for all of this.”

That problem had been foreseen, at least. Ery and Faine moved in, with Chestnut attached, a bit uneasily, to a decently large cart. The horse looked over at Anders, as if asking if the thing stuck behind her was actually correct, or if it were, perhaps, a horrible mistake. She wasn’t kicking or bucking over it, but it was clear that she felt the task was strange. Possibly beneath her as well.

Ery walked next to her, and patted the good girl horse on the neck.

“We can load most of that into this.” The Prince eyed the meat, much of which was already frozen and hard, as well as laying on the ground. It was that portion the boy didn’t seem to like.

Anders had to agree, but they had limited resources at the moment, so would have to simply wash it first, before cooking it later. At least he’d be doing that with the things he was working with. Rather than assure his friend that it would all easily fit and that more could be placed in the cart as well, even without stressing the horse, he simply started to load up. He got some help for that, from almost everyone there. Then, after using a bit of magic to remove the blood from his own clothing, where he’d come into contact with it as he worked, Anders waved Betha and Mary over.

Mary didn’t look that bad, though she had dark splotches on her red skirt and a few on her top. Betha, who was in yellow and tan, looked like someone had tried to kill her. Anders didn’t ask, just cleaning their clothing for them both and a bit shyly, did their bodies, as well. Betha did not seem to be pleased with either thing, but Mary got it and made a half-choked sound at him.

“Thanks to you then, Andy. You need us to get you back to the right spot, with your little cart?”

He knew the way, so shook his head.

“We’ll be fine, with the three of us. We’ll get you two back to your wagon though, first. It’s on the way.” It was also most of the way to them, since the line had kept moving the whole time. He waved at the other men who had helped with the work. “Grab some extra meat, if you want it for your meal tonight. You’ll have to come by to get in on the rest of it, when we make camp.”

No one grumbled too much about that idea, though one of the men, the one who had helpfully gone over how to skin things with him, eyed the women a bit too closely. A thing that, Anders knew, was fine enough, really. If the man wanted to do adult things with them, well, they seemed open to trade that way.

This man seemed to be furtive about it though. As if he had something sinister in mind, instead of simply paying the women to do some work for him.

Anders distracted him, by handing him a decently large hunk of frozen beef.

“Sorry there, I didn’t get your name? I’m Andy.” The unwrapped package was cool in his hands and there was a shocked look on the fellow’s face when he took it.

“Cold! Gah!” The man grinned then and shook his head, affably enough. “Rofer Keen. Running three grain wagons for the King, out to the front. Not that the man knows me directly, of course.”

That was probably how most people dealt with royalty, Anders knew. They worked for them, at least in some manner or fashion and if they ever saw them, even in the distance, it was a major event in their lives.

So he nodded.

“Good work, I wager. Anyway, come by the camp tonight for the rest of things. Greens, roots, fruit and if you want to trade for it, some honey.” He nearly called the man out on his thoughts of the night before, but didn’t.

After all, thoughts were, in the end, simply thoughts. This man had raped women before, but he didn’t seem like a threat, on the outside. Really, he seemed affable enough, except that his looks at the women were held a bit too long. That meant, even if Anders was correct about him, that no one there would have any particular reason to think that he was a bad sort.

Plus, Sir Humphrey had mentioned that he’d take care of that portion of things. That would happen, Anders didn’t doubt at all. On top of that, he was going to be keeping an eye out on the man himself, just in case the message didn’t land clearly.

Rofer gave him a shrewd look then.

“Can you get more of that kind of thing, do you think? Honey? We could fill a barrel with it, if you could collect enough. Hard to find though, on the move like this. True enough, it’s hard to find at the best of times.”

Anders shrugged, looked around and then realized that everyone around them probably understood that he’d been using magic already. Mary was next to him, with Rofer not five feet from her, glancing her way, occasionally.

“I can find it and collect it quickly enough. I’m not going ten miles out of my way for it, but I could, possibly, get some extra in. If you provide the barrel and carry it... You can have ten percent of it.” That was probably too generous, but there might not be any at all.

If he was doing business with the man, that gave him an excuse to keep an eye on him. Not that Anders actually needed anything of the sort. After all, he’d found the man’s thoughts while looking for real threats to himself or those around him. It wasn’t as if he’d been prying into the man’s private fantasies. If that had been the case, if the man had dreamed of using the ladies with them by force, but had no plans to do so, then he wouldn’t have registered in the first place. Not given what had been being looked for at the time.

The other fellow snorted at him.

“Fifty percent. I’ll do the work, selling it and handle the funds for it. You said you wanted trade goods for clothing and such? Fine cloth only or... What do you want that way?”

The man was acting as if they were finished in their bargaining. That wasn’t the case at all, so Anders smiled. Then he laughed a bit.

“I can work with most cloth, at a guess, and change it into whatever is needed... Now, I understand, you look at me and see a child, that you can win over with force of will and pretend that having me do all the hard work is worth you getting half of the value. Fifteen percent of the honey, to do with as you like, and you handle the trade goods. I’ll trust you not to cheat me, since I’m going to be right here. Watching you. Using magic.” Anders sighed then, since the man didn’t seem that convinced, even holding the frozen piece of meat, as they walked back toward their places in line.

Mary nearly growled at him then, hitting him on the arm firmly enough that he staggered to the left a bit.

“You can hear peoples very thoughts? No one here is going to like that, very much.” She seemed to mean it, as if he were now suddenly suspect.

Instead of lying he simply nodded.

“I can. I know that one isn’t very popular, but it’s part of the wizard skills I’ve been learning. I can also get a good look at what weather is coming and what’s going on at a distance. It was how I found those bandits, earlier. I was looking for threats to our people last night and came across that. Some other things as well. Most people here won’t have to worry at all. I mean, I won’t register you trying to make a bit extra coin on the side, Mary. Or if you want to hire one of the girls for some fun later, Rofer. Now, if you had ill intent, say, theft or murder... Or, I don’t know, taking a woman by force, thinking she couldn’t tell anyone and be believed, let’s say? Then I’d know about it.” He shrugged, then a bit idly, turned, held his fist toward a full-sized tree and open his fingers rapidly. Holding the correct sense of magic and energy.

Really, he held a lot more than that, and while the tree managed to stay upright and not fall on them, being huge, as it was, a chunk twice the size of his own head and at least that deep exploded outward, making half the horses in the area stir and even some of the oxen try to shimmy to the side in a fashion that showed more energy and grace than they normally seemed to hold.

Rofer went still then, and gulped, audibly, even over the animals making the racket they were. Mary gave him a confused look then frowned at him.

“Stop scaring the horses, Andy. You don’t fool me with your clever magics. I know that you’re a nice boy. Good and kind.” She didn’t seem too certain of that for the moment, when he looked at her and nodded. Then, being slightly daring, he winked.

“You’re right to scold me, Mary. Forgive me for being imprudent as I just was. I don’t know what I was thinking, to be truthful. There’s no benefit in being so overt in my abilities. Anyway, Rofer... Twenty percent of the honey? After that little display, and again, everyone, forgive me for it, I don’t want you to think that I’m threatening you for a better bargain.”

The man, clearly frightened and most likely understanding what the real issue was, shook his head.

“A full third. We can call the rest of it, to a half, as my gift to those poor children, dragged off to the war like they’re being. It’s no place for a child.” He glared at Anders then, and turned his bearded face and dark eyes back toward the tree that had been damaged. “Well, most children.”

Anders nodded, then winced and lied a bit.

“I’m probably going to be in trouble for damaging that tree like that. Well, no help for it but to take my beating sooner, before Sir Humphrey or Sir Daniel decide to be truly angry over it. Maybe they’ll let me go with only some extra chores?” He tried to sound hopeful. There was a tone of misery to the whole thing, mainly because they’d had several plans which included him and he’d let himself make a hash of all of them.

His abilities weren’t secret at all, any longer and now, he’d gone out of his way to threaten an adult man. One that Sir Humphrey had plans to handle on his own. It had seemed like the right thing at the time, to him. The trouble with that was that nothing in his experience had prepared him for the task of the moment. He’d let himself get ahead of the person he knew that could take charge of the situation, with some certainty. Sir Humphrey.

Anders wondered if he was in for a real beating, for doing that. The man wouldn’t be upset that Anders set the other fellow off his plans, if he had at all. No, it would be about him having jumped ahead and pushing the other fellow out of his rightful place. That kind of thing could cause real duels, in certain cases.

True, the other man wouldn’t do that with him. No, if he got that angry, he’d simply beat him. If that wasn’t allowed, or thought to be prudent, he was well within his rights to make Anders do tasks or chores, even forgoing sleep, as a punishment. If that happened, he honestly doubted that anyone there would, or possibly could, naysay the fellow.

Prince Robarts could, of course. So might Prince Erold. The problem there was that neither of them were there. Sir Rob was under the other knight, and Squire Ery was assigned as Anders’ temporary assistant. Just because he’d failed to hold his secrets in didn’t mean that they would fail in the same way.

As they walked, he finally recalled the conversation, shook his head then sighed.

“A third of the honey then, to do with as you like. Now I just have to find it. It might take some days.” He shrugged, since the truth was that he might not find any at all, or it could be right along the route they were taking. Bees lived all over the place, after all.

Rofer made a noise in his throat, his weathered face, what was visible around his eyes, seeming kind enough. Friendly, even. Which could have been the man not getting that the threat had been meant for him, or the fellow taking it as Anders giving him fair warning not to do it. He hadn’t for at least ten years, after all. It could be easier to part with some of that honey in trade to one of the girls than to go with his more violent plan.

Betha was walking behind them, by about ten feet. Anders was nearly certain that she was afraid of him now, after making that tree explode like he had. He winced and looked at her, a bit sadly. They hadn’t been fast friends, perhaps, and she wasn’t a fine and lovely court lady, but he’d known very few women in his life, just to talk to. Especially ones that had treated him as if he might be a man, instead of a child whom they used to help tend to, some years back.

When Rofer headed to his drivers, having three well loaded and heavy wagons, as he’d mentioned, Betha moved in closer to Mary, both women looking at each other meaningfully, for some time. Finally, at her own wagon, Betha and Mary both moved in, holding their share of meat for the evening already. It was, interestingly, Betha who spoke, her voice low.

“That man... Keen... He intends to rape some of us? Maybe all?”

Mary tightened her jaw, but nodded at the words.

“I’ve seen the type. You basically told him that if he does, you might accidently drop a tree on him. That or blast him apart directly. That could be dangerous. He swallowed it, for now, but he might not hold to that, if he gets too driven to take one of us.” She went hard then, and fingered something inside of the band of her skirt, at the waist, from the shape of it, that would be a blade of some sort.

He nodded at it and took a deep breath.

“I’ll check that portion of things directly. He doesn’t seem the type to be truly driven to such things, from his thoughts. He hasn’t done it in ten years. Still, this situation is too much like that one before, so we need to be watchful. Put the word out to your friends? Not just for him, but in general. I noticed you only traveling in groups, already. Hold to that. Also, come by later and collect things, plus, get me some helpers, for cooking? We might not need as much that way, if we’re allowed to freeze things directly, but there will be tasks and what not. I can clean any dresses or clothing you have, for instance. I can change the colors and materials as well, if you want. Let me know.” He could also clean their bodies, but there was nearly no way to say that without being either insulting or suggesting something far more intimate than he had in mind.

Still, practicing his magic on a regular basis wasn’t a poor idea and at home doing things such as tending to clothing or even working with armor had been popular options for him. Cleaning in general had been, even though it wasn’t really needed. Now, out on the road, it was. He had some skills that way, if he bothered to use them.

Mary hugged him, in a way that indicated to anyone looking that they were, at the very least, on friendly terms. Possibly not the ones which Anders would have wanted, from the reaction of his body, but even the boy didn’t let that get out of hand. No, he focused his mind well enough that Farad felt himself blink, physically, in response to what the youngster was doing. Anders had, rather decently, gone into a trance state.

Without Farad doing all the work, or, as it turned out, any of it at all. He smiled then, as the woman called out to her friends, who were mainly up on the wagon.

“Andy here offered to see to our clothing for us. Cleaning and repairing, I think? That’s sweet of him. He can do that, using magic.” She spoke the words casually, as if they might not be a thing to inspire fear in the masses at all. Even if most of the women turned to stare at him, turning different colors. Both white and red were popular options that day.

Betha noticed that and waved her right hand, as if saying that it truly didn’t matter at all.

“Don’t worry, Andy here is a good Mage. For one thing, he got more food for us. All of us. I mean, the entire caravan. That’s just being shared out, too. Except for the sweets. If you want those, you need to work for them, or barter things.”

One of the ladies up on the wagon, who was wearing very practical drab gray clothing, with brown trousers, and who had short cropped hair and a leather belt, snickered a bit.

“I bet we can find something to trade. You’re what, fourteen? Fifteen, maybe? Men that age have needs, don’t they? Still, even without that, we get a part of the food? Just like anyone else? That’s rare on a trip like this.” She shrugged then and looked at the other, more fearful ladies, who were riding in the back. “Even better, you’re good looking. Clean and in expensive clothing. You could probably get what you want from us without any trading at all.” She was teasing him, clearly.

He could tell since the rest of the ladies, even the ones who might feel ill at ease with magic, laughed, if only a little.

Mary put a possessive hand over his shoulder.

“Andy here is mine, thank you very much, ladies. Now, we meet at your camp, tonight, for some cooking chores and to get in on the free things? Mainly that last part, of course.”

He could see that one, so nodded.

“Like I mentioned. I’ll do my portion, but...” He didn’t want to shout about potential crimes, but didn’t know what else he could say to actually get things to arrange themselves in the best fashion.

Mary narrowed her eyes.

“We’ll do ours, as well, Andy. Thank you. See you later.” She didn’t truly dismiss him, but both of the walking women had to pass off the large hunks of meat they had, so they could awkwardly scramble up into place. Betha nearly fell off, twice, and had to be pulled up, even though the slight woman was moving quickly enough. It was mainly that the skirts got in the way of the physical activity.

Waving, Anders walked back to his own wagon, which was being followed by Chestnut and Brownie, with the lighter colored horse still seeming a bit put upon to be pulling the small cart. It was pretty heavy, if only half full and the girl, while doing her part, wasn’t working all that hard to keep up. She was tied off to the back of the wagon, so had to keep walking, but the oxen were so slow that she was in no danger of being dragged along by brute force.

Hopping up, fairly lightly, into the driver’s seat had the reins passed to him directly. Sir Daniel laughed a bit.

“I need to go into the woods for a moment. I’ve been waiting for you to come back with some unease.” Then the man, seeming a little stiff, got down and headed for the side of the road, where he’d be hidden by the trees.

When he came back, jogging a little to get into place, he settled on the front bench again, then glanced back at the little cart.

“So, we have a feast planned tonight, in celebration of the work the squires did today?” It was idle chatter and not happening. Not past a normal meal, which might be well rounded enough for everyone to be more or less pleased with it.

Anders shook his head.

“I have nothing like that planned. Really, we can’t make a big deal out of every fight or minor scuffle on the road. If we do, they’ll get used to being heaped with praise, and then feel too good to help me manage all the food. No, best we simply have some of you knights go over everything they did wrong and then get them prepared for the next such event.” He grinned then, since Ery was close enough to the side of the wagon to have overheard him. “Plus, it was only six bandits. Anyone could handle that few...”

He laughed when the Prince rode over, then pushed him on the shoulder. The boy pretended to look sour faced and gloomy, for about half a moment, then suddenly smiled.

“I know, I know... There’s truth to that, isn’t there? We’re heading to the front, in a real war. We need to be ready for anything. Lauding ourselves too much for such a small matter might turn our minds away from that fact.”

The words got a pleasant look from Sir Daniel.

“That’s not a bad thought. Still, I bet we eat well enough to still call it a feast. Why, this trip has been so easy and the food so plentiful that I bet I’m ready to ride again in... Oh, a day or two?” The man tried to play that off, as if it weren’t important to him.

Thinking about it, Anders nodded.

“That’s a bit early, to my thinking, but if you feel up to it, then you are. I can drive the wagon now. I’ll have to hunt in the early mornings. That or get someone else to take over driving for a while, in case things come up.” He glanced at Ery, who also had been taking some lessons in wagon management skills, which got a long-suffering sigh from the boy.

“Fine. No taking all day though. I’d rather ride, and play at being a guard, than sit and play at being a wagoner.”

Sir Daniel nodded at the words, but Anders didn’t. Instead he glared at the Prince.

“This isn’t a game or play, Ery. If you drive a wagon here, you aren’t pretending to the role of wagoner, you’re actually doing it. Right now, you aren’t playing at being a guard, people are counting on you to actually do the task and do it well.” He softened then. “Which you are. I should check on things. Both here and back at the castle.”

He wasn’t doing that and driving at the same time, even if the oxen would follow the wagon in front of them, most of the time. A thing that had already happened earlier in the day. Rather than push Sir Daniel to take up the reins, which he’d done for hours already, Anders simply waited, hoping he wasn’t missing anything important, like an incoming storm or an attack.

That or something taking place at the castle, which needed him to pass a message about it. Then again, after he rode on the hard bench for a while, Anders worked out that nothing would be taking place that quickly. The only matter that might have changed would be the one with Rofer Keen.

That issue, along with everything else he could imagine, tried to fill his head for a while. He simply schooled himself to be calm and wait, paying attention to the driving that needed to be done. That meant Anders jumped a bit when a call came back from the front of the line. Then he blinked again when he realized what was being said.

“Emergency at the front! Emergency at the front!”

Anders held his ground, or his seat, since reality required that of him. Everyone else around his wagon left. Sir Daniel, the people from the wagon behind his and two of the three men from the wagon one up the line. Each set of horses and oxen had to have a watcher, which everyone seemed to understand. They came to a standstill, meaning that he was able to close his eyes and cast his mind forward. It took him a few moments to calm down, after all the yelling, but when that happened, he understood the nature of the issue.

The road was blocked off. The work was fresh, from the feel of it. Trees had been placed across it, six and in one place, seven, deep. They’d been cut, sawed off in a fashion that meant it was a trap. Probably for them. Anders had to chase the idea of who had done it down, which seemed to take hours. That wasn’t the truth, of course. Just his perception of what was going on, as he watched the world as intensely as he was.

After about an hour of men, a lot of them, working to move the giant things out of their path, Sir Humphrey rode back to him, with Faine in tow.

“Brolly... We have a bit of a problem up front.”

He nodded, having something to finally report.

“Half a dozen men tried to shut the road down, using trees. They aren’t attacking, thankfully. They rode off early in the morning and are about ten miles ahead of us, right now. I didn’t get it before, since they don’t really show any kind of real danger to us. Still, this is annoying. How long will it take to clear?”

The muscular Knight shook his head.

“About a day per tree. These things are huge. The red kind that will grow forever if you leave them be that long. I don’t suppose you have any tricks for this, do you? We’re barely able to pull the smallest of the things off the road. Anyone setting something like this up will have some other plans for us, at the same time.” There was a certainty to the words that sounded very confident.

Anders wasn’t that certain, but could see that going along with that idea, that they needed to overnight in a different place, was the right one. Even if Sir Humphrey hadn’t ordered him to make that possible, in a direct fashion.

After a moment of thinking, he nodded his head.

“I might be able to knock them into smaller portions. I doubt I can float things that heavy off the road. Not directly. If we combine making them smaller with people using oxen and ropes?” The truth was that he didn’t know if it would work that well, but he was willing to try.

The knight simply looked at him, his eyes a bit dead inside. After a while, seeming a bit gruff for some reason, the man moved his horse away.

“Get to that then, as soon as possible. I want us back underway inside the hour, so hurry your steps.” He rode off at a trot, as if something in the conversation had personally offended him.

Anders didn’t understand what that might be. Farad had a thought that way, in that the man had put out a casual question, one that most boys should have simply had to shake their head at, and answered with an idea that could, possibly, work. If so, the man probably hadn’t been feeling upset at all. He’d been hiding his real response, whatever that was.

Anders didn’t get to run straight off to help as he might, since he had to flag down someone else to watch his wagon and the meat cart for him. It was interesting, but the person that came to do that was actually Mary. She grinned at him, and eyed the back of the wagon as she climbed up onto the driver’s bench.

“I suppose you could use magic to learn if I take anything, can’t you?” She seemed a bit disgruntled over the idea. As if that kind of thing might be her due and he was cheating, preventing her from doing it.

Smiling, he nodded.

“True. Still, I have to know to look. I missed this thing with the road being blocked. That... Anyway, thank you. I need to run to the front and see if I can help at all.” He waved to her as he ran off, using a good bit more speed than was probably needed, just for some downed trees.

The trick there was that Sir Humphrey was in charge. That meant his suggestions needed to be taken as orders. Even if he was being casual seeming about what he requested.

When he jogged to the front, the first wagon about sixty feet back from the five remaining trees on the road, Anders understood something that he hadn’t before. Some trees, it seemed, could grow to a rather tremendous size. They looked fairly normal, when standing, but at least two of the things that laid across the dirt path were as high as his mid chest. For some reason he’d figured that they’d be smaller. Like normal trees that ten or twelve strong men could lift and that an ox or a few horses, could certainly pull out of place.

The one tree that was laying to the side of the road already was of good size, but also truly was the smallest of the things there. His plan had been to simply batter the things, with a few quick explosions, roughly cutting them up. What was in front of him at the moment would take hours to get through that way. Wincing, he shook his head.

“All right. I need to do this differently. It’s going to take a real spell. Give me... just a bit.” He closed his eyes, going over what was needed. Oddly, he had the basics inside of himself, already. He’d never used his abilities for anything even close to what he had planned, but when he opened his eyes, not too long later, he took a deep breath.

Pointing at the biggest of the trees, the red bark seeming easily splintered, he began to speak of his plan.

“Seve nik- ere ot ere- ona miffen inna- fen.” There was no waiting to see the effects, which simply cracked the wood with a single snap. A loud thing that made a single line in the thick trunk. Moving about a foot away, he did it again, then repeated the single spell, over and over again. Getting faster at it, even while his breathing began to come in huge gulps and painful exhalations.

Sweat poured from him, a little over an hour later, when he got to the last tree. That was, a bit lazily, cut in only four pieces, being it was the smallest remaining one there. The men and women didn’t whine about the large sections, simply working together to shift everything out of their way. The Caravan Master walked over to him, and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Get back to your position, as soon as you can. We’ll be moving inside ten minutes. Call to move out! Ready!” The man bellowed the words, which had most of the people scrambling back to their own places, in the line. A few of them simply waited though, since they had reliable drivers who would be coming to meet them.

Anders didn’t know if Mary could actually drive the wagon at all. Rather than test that, he forced himself to walk, feeling half ready to fall down from his recent efforts. It was a different sense of things than helping people heal had been, but still obviously taxing to his personal energy.

It would require him to both rest for a bit to recover, and eat more. A thing that he could do, when he got to the wagon. Failing to make up for the energy expended would cost him, later.

Not that he did that instantly. He was at the wagon before they started moving, but it was all he could do to drag himself up into the seat, next to the woman. She smirked at him, at first, then blinked as she realized he wasn’t playing at being tired.

“What’s the situation? You look about done in.” She swallowed, as if the words might make him upset with her or something.

He managed a weak smile.

“I used magic to cut up some trees. They were rather large. I need to eat, soon. I just don’t have the energy to reach behind me and get anything. I know, that’s pretty lazy of me.” Turning, he tried to move from the seat, which was starting to work when the woman simply slipped into the wagon and pointed at things.

“Where is the food you need? We don’t have time to cook anything. Not with the call to move being out.” She seemed to be considering that as possible, otherwise.

Anders pointed at the large canvas sack with the gosberries in it. They were a bit sour, but not too bad and were big enough to hold in his hand, the fuzzy tan and green skin was even edible. When she pulled it around, she simply brought the whole thing to the front seat, not even looking inside.

He was able to do that much, and, as Mary drove, a thing she seemed to have no issues with at all, he started to eat. It was the stretching of his middle that got him to stop, some twenty minutes later, not running out of the fruit. Most of it was even left.

“I’m done, for now. Here we go. Our friendly trees.” He sighed as he waved at them. After a moment, the woman next to him cursed.

“Damn. Anyone willing to bring down even one of those beasts to slow us down means something serious. Are we going to have soldiers fall on us, do you think?”

He didn’t know, but shrugged.

“Let me see? I need to be a bit more careful than I was last time. That...” The truth was he felt foolish, having missed a pile of giant logs in the road like that.

No one had scolded him for it, but it was his task to check on things, to make certain they didn’t drive right into a trap.

Closing his eyes, he dropped into a trance and searched, then did it again and again. Aimed at dozens of different targets.

He found some things, but none of them spoke of a military group falling on them. Not yet, at any rate.

Chapter nine

Anders reflected on the first week of travel, sitting on the bench of his wagon. It swayed in a comforting pattern, for the time being. They were, he thought, making good time that day. On the fifth day, it had started raining, which meant that the sixth day had been spent traveling no more than a few miles, through ankle deep mud. A combination of the sky not crying on them and the road simply being on an angle aided them, at the moment. The ground was still damp, but they weren’t all in danger of sinking to their axles.

Each day he’d collected honey, finally breaking down and making a name for honeycomb that worked to assist him in calling that kind of thing to himself. He was careful not to take too much from any given area, since that would starve the bees all winter. Still, he collected not one, but five full barrels of honey. They were vast things, each in a different wagon.

Rofer Keen handled that for the both of them. The barrels were, technically, being rented, for a share of the honey inside of them. Not a lot of it, either. Generally, no more than a pound’s worth, which given the size of the things wasn’t that bad of a price. Still, they were out of space for such things and not traveling far enough each day to collect enough greens or roots, without denuding the general area they were in. They had enough, if they could keep up the pace they were at the moment.

Sir Daniel had gone back to being a knight, full time, leaving the wagon tending duties to Anders and Ery. The Prince was much more fond of riding when he could, so was doing that at the moment. He stayed close to the wagon and the small cart, however. Not just in case Anders needed to go into the woods, either. That too, of course.

It was mainly that, when people had to work harder each day, their minds turned toward doing some dire things. Strange ideas, like taking from the small boy with the wagon, had passed more than one person’s thoughts, over the last days. On the nice side, they had guards out, which had stopped there from being too much of that sort of thing, so far.

Rofer, the would be rapist, had given up his plans, at least for the time being. He’d understood that Anders was simply taking his thoughts, measuring them and that the boy, even if the idea seemed impossible, could best him in a fight. At least using magic. The man held to the idea that he might be able to challenge the little child if it simply came to blows. There was simply too great of a size difference.

Though, Anders walked around in mail and thick gambeson, all the time as far as the other man knew. That sort of indicated that he was prepared to fight, if nothing else. Also, that he might be harder to hurt than an unarmored man would be.

After mid-day, when all of the squires, knights and princes had come by to get their mid-meal from the wagon, which was fresh bread, berries and small portions of cheese that day, Ery finally tethered his horse to the wagon and climbed over.

“I can drive for a while. I probably shouldn’t stick you with all of it. I want to, of course, but I shouldn’t.”

There was a sense of calm friendship in the offer, so Anders nodded, a bit too eagerly.

“I need to check ahead of us again. The road is drying, but I don’t like that those men are still out there.” The ones that had dropped trees in their path. They’d stayed about five miles away from them, to the right, but that morning when he’d checked, the men had started to ride in their general direction. That might not mean anything, but they were ahead of them and headed back toward the road already.

So far, everyone seemed to think that he was being strange, watching those men as closely as he was. Everyone except Sir Humphrey and Prince Robarts. Those two men figured it a job well done, that he made certain they weren’t going to be ambushed too easily. He also had to keep in touch with the castle. Each morning, for the last three, he’d been tasked with passing messages to the front. It was only the one person getting the information, so far. Captain Horner. Anders didn’t know anyone else there yet, which was the point of him traveling that way.

When the reins were taken from his fingers, Anders held his place, and then closed his eyes, focusing on first clearing it, to sit in the blackness of his thoughts, then he struck outward, tracking people, finding out what was going on back home and searching the road ahead of them. There was more honey in the area, as well as more bitters and herbs. The roots he wanted didn’t seem available, however. What he did find was that the six men that wanted to stop them were planning to flood the road, ahead, by taking out a small damn.

He also noticed a large collection of wild swine. From the sense of them, they were well fed and large, but nearly at the point ahead that the men were heading toward. There was a river in that area, along the road, on the left side.

When he opened his eyes, he nodded at Ery.

“Can you watch things for a while? I need to ride ahead and see to some things. There are some pigs, more greens and even some more honey, if I can manage it all right. We’re nearly out of room for the sweets though...”

The Prince rolled his eyes at that idea.

“You should get some of that anyway, to give to Mary and your other friends. It’s important to ply women with trinkets and sweets. At least if you want them to do interesting things with you.” That was teasing, plain and simple.

Anders snorted at the idea.

“That isn’t my goal there. Still, that might not be a poor idea. If nothing else, it might show that working with us is worth doing? I don’t know that’s totally true, but...” So far it truly had been. Even Anders understood that. He’d done a lot to help everyone with them. It was enough that he was starting to feel weary. Getting up each day was starting to be a problem. Not that he could sleep well, on the ground or curled up on top of goods in the wagon.

Even being young the nights were an exercise in waking to shift, toss and turn, unable to be comfortable. The only reason he didn’t complain about it was that he understood everyone else was going through the same thing. Some of the older people would have it even worse. Age and time had taught him that lesson.

Being old was a thing to avoid, if at all possible. True, it came with wisdom, or at least the chance to earn that sort of thing. That didn’t really outweigh the pain and discomfort of it, to his way of thinking. Then, Farad had literally died. That had been the worst of it. He’d faced the fact that he wasn’t going to be any longer and then opened his eyes again.

Not that it mattered at the moment. He had some things to see to, which were more important than his feeling a bit worn by the travel.

Brownie was wearing her saddle already, since she traveled that way, in case he needed to ride at a moment’s notice. It had come up a few times, normally when it came to sorting out the bitters and herbs for those with them. This time, when he clambered back into the sturdy wagon, being careful not to step on vulnerable or fragile things, he moved directly to the good girl horse, who was following, tied loosely to the right and side of the wagon. She whinnied a bit when he got on her back. It was welcome sounding, instead of a complaint about carrying the extra weight he represented.

“I’ll be back in... Well, it depends. I need to talk to Sir Humphrey. It could be some hours. I should be back before dark, regardless.”

The Prince made a sour face, not wanting to be saddled with the wagon like that, or possibly the cooking, but he could do both, if it was needed. Rather than whine about either of those things, the boy, who was often better at many things than Anders was, simply shook his head.

“You found something? Bandits... Only, no. The men you were watching. The saboteurs.” There was a certain level of certainty to the words, even if the boy sounded young at the same time.

Anders smiled at him.

“That’s the one. Some wild pigs as well, in the same direction. They plan to wash the road out, to slow us down. I was thinking that I might ask them not to do that. That will work. I mean, if I bow well enough and smile while I make the request?” Anders normally didn’t bother with sarcasm, but it worked in this case. Well enough that Prince Erold snorted at him.

“Well, don’t be a fool about it. Take others with you and ambush them, if at all possible. I know that lacks in honor, but it works and we need to survive, in order to fight later.” The boy was sober after a moment. His head shook just a little bit, negating his previous words. “That sounds cowardly, doesn’t it? Fight from ambush? Take superior forces with you, instead of standing like a true warrior...”

Blinking a bit, looking over at the other boy while he untied the slightly damp leather of the reins, it was Anders’ turn to shake his head.

“I’m not a warrior.” He spoke softly on the matter, feeling the words as if they had real, tangible, weight. “I’m not even a wizard or a magician. At best I’m a message boy, and not much more than that. True, one doing that with magic, which is special enough for twelve, but I’m not a grand fighter.” That should have gotten the other man to nod, given how he personally had beaten Anders every time they’d practiced together but there was only a slightly strained look, instead.

“Perhaps you aren’t, yet. You’ve improved a lot in only a single season and have real use here, even on the road. That gives the lie to just being a messenger, at least. I know that I’m dreading the thought of trying to fix the evening meal alone, so hurry back. Safely.” There was a hard look then, on the last words.

A thing that got Anders to simply agree. It was the better part of wisdom, regardless of the age of the source of it.

“I may not be going anywhere. I hope so. We need more greens, if nothing else.” Nuts and fruit as well, if he could find them.

Rather than talk about the plan, which wasn’t much of one yet, he guided Brownie around, gently, the girl doing most of the work for them, being superbly trained. He hadn’t realized it on the last trip that he’d taken, but the King hadn’t just lent him two horses, he’d let him have the use of two fine, well trained, war horses. For some reason, Farad had always assumed that such things would be harder to manage. These girls were both sweet, steady and didn’t balk at doing what was asked of them, however.

It took about ten minutes to find Sir Humphrey, who was riding near the front of the column, his eyes scanning the road for threats. He nodded, a bit grumpily, at Anders, when he rode up.

“Heading out on a hunt? You don’t have your bow with you.”

That was the truth, since he didn’t really want to use either of his war bows in the damp weather, if he could help it. It was possible for him to dry them out, using magic, but the truth was that he’d been taking the animals he’d gotten by magic alone, over the last few days. It meant he couldn’t send spells as far away from him, of course.

He needed to find some other way of doing things, that would allow that, in the rain, or cold weather. Bows were at a disadvantage if the wood got too cold. They could break from it, under ordinary use and would be much harder to pull at the same time.

Shrugging, he simply answered, his face bland.

“There’s a herd of swine ahead, on the right of the road, close enough to the water to make it worth looking for them.” He went on instantly. “There’s more honey and greens that way. Also, about a half-mile past that, those men, our tree felling friends, are planning to destroy a small dam and wash the road out. They aren’t in place yet. I’ll have to ride about five miles ahead, to meet them.”

The Knight, his red mustache looking well groomed for being on the road, shook his head.

“Then arm yourself. Bring your bow, blades and make sure your armor is in order. A spear, as well. How many are we facing?”

That was a number he had, at least.

“Six again. These aren’t bandits though. The sense is that they were hired to do the work and are mainly just farmers. Local ones, even.” They were still well inside of Istlan, which meant they were their own people. Probably working for the Yansians, even if they didn’t know it. It was clear that they suspected the fact though. The man who had hired them had spoken with a deep accent, after all. Anders had picked that up, if not a name for the fellow.

The large Knight went still, then shook his head. After a moment, he smirked a bit.

“We let the squires have the last group, so we should let the others have a go at the problem this time. Otherwise people will start to become restless. We’ll put the boys on to guard, this time, and send part of the knights with you.” The man turned then and bellowed. He was good at that kind of thing, as it turned out. His voice sounded bass, and manly. Enough so that it rumbled inside of Anders’ chest, even though he was several feet away from him. It was daunting.

Powerful even.

“Knights to the fore! Knights to the fore!” With no explanation, there were eleven men riding to their position at full speed, with weapons out, ready to repel an attack if needed.

In their excitement, the horses danced, not knowing what was going on. Anders patted Brownie on the neck and explained.

“We’re going on a trip. They just want to go with us. No reason to be antsy over it. I’m pretty certain we’re already going along.” Not that it totally made sense, but he had to think that getting the food in was at least as important as taking out the would-be saboteurs.

At least part of him thought so. It was interesting when Farad pulled back, to understand that he was the one that felt that way, since people needed to eat every day like they did. Anders the boy on the other hand thought that preventing the road from being washed out, which would mean the caravan being stuck, possibly for days or longer, was just as important. Yes, they all had to eat, but the truth was they had a goal to see to as well.

Which, when stated that way, made enough sense that Farad simply agreed with the younger portion of himself. He’d been thinking like a historian. A man who had lived away from the dangers of the world, for almost his entire life. Food had been important to him and the others, but no one had actually prevented them from doing their jobs, the entire time he’d lived at the compound.

The situation he was in at the moment was very different than anything the old man had ever experienced, except for the one trip he’d taken a few months before. That was instructive enough, perhaps, for him to not make such basic mistakes, but part of being an elder was becoming set in your ways. A thing that he couldn’t afford at the moment. Luckily Anders had been there to correct his thinking.

The Knight Commander looked at the others, and then spread his hands. Everyone had ridden up, after a few moments, so they had all the squires, even if that technically hadn’t been called for.

He gestured up the road.

“Brolly here found our friends for us. The ones that put the trees in our path the other day. The new plan seems to be to wash the road out ahead. They aren’t in position yet, but it’s a bit of a race, if I have it right. Anders is headed that way, but we aren’t sending him alone.”

Squire Howard nodded.

“Do you want us to handle that? Or is it...” He looked confused then and blushed, his face turning red enough that it was clear he was feeling embarrassed for being assumptive.

Sir Humphrey just grinned at the boy, as if he couldn’t be prouder of him.

“Good thinking there, Squire. Not on this one. I want you and the others to take over on guard duty here. You know the pattern. This could be a ploy to get us to set our guard low, drawing part of us off ahead, while we’re attacked from a different angle. That isn’t likely, but even a wizard can be tricked, and we’re going into a war ahead, so that kind of thing might be in play.” The fellow sobered a bit then, and shrugged, which caused his mail armor to shift in the dim daylight.

After a moment, the slightly bronzed colored armor shining a bit too much to truly mimic rust, he went on, looking at everyone in turn. Including Anders.

“We take everything seriously from this point on. I know that it might seem like a game so far, but this is an engagement with real enemy forces, or at least might be. Our task is to guard the supplies going to the front. That means getting them there.” He sounded stern for a moment, but smiled at the others in turn. “I’ll ride out with Brolly, Rob and Daniel. Sir Clemence and Sir Farrel. Sir Donno is in charge until our return. If we fall in battle, you squires are responsible for making certain that the task we were set is finished, understood?”

There was a collection of somber nods, and then scrambling, as Sir Humphrey waved at them.

“Weapons and light armor. We need to leave in ten minutes. As I mentioned, we have a race ahead. Hurry. Meet at the head wagon. Ride!”

Everyone had to scatter, even if the adults were all properly armed. They had spears with them, instead of lances, which given the terrain in the woods was the wiser choice. Anders had to travel the furthest to get his things, including his bow, arrows and spear. He didn’t have a proper sword, but dug out a long knife that was nearly up to the task. As he worked, Prince Erold turned around to stare at him.

“That looks serious then. What is my portion in this?”

That hadn’t been explicitly spoken of, but there was an obvious answer, anyway.

“Guard duty. Get ready to repel an attack, and protect the center of the line, from the wagon. You might not sleep tonight, even if all goes well, having to do a double or even triple watch. Clearly, if it comes to it, make a simple meal for people and request help in doing it from Mary and her ladies. Give them some of the honey for their efforts. I’ll try to bring back more, but you never know what will happen in these kind of things.”

The Prince snorted at him and shook his head.

“You know Anders, you’ve been more than a little strange, for some time now. Ever since you were ill to dying with the red fever those seasons back, in fact.” The boy seemed suspicious, even as Anders blinked at the words.

“You mean they didn’t tell you? I would have thought... Everyone else knows...” He shook his head then and sighed. It was his story and Erold was his best friend. Close to his only friend, if he were going to be honest about the matter.

The other blond fellow narrowed his eyes then.

“Sorry? I don’t’ know what the topic is, I’m afraid. What didn’t they tell me?”

It was tempting to put things off until later, since he didn’t really have time for a long discussion at the moment. Still, he hated it when people did that sort of thing to him, so kept packing his gear, moving it from the back of the wagon onto Brownie as he tried to come up with a short version of events.

“When I lay dying Prince Alpert and Lady Lyse begged Master Franken, not then known to be a traitor, to save their boy. He used a magical crystal he had to do so. It worked well enough, though it wasn’t a simple healing magic. Inside the crystal was a copy of an old historian from over a thousand years ago. Farad Ibn Istel. His old and rather boring mind was mixed with my own, which is why things have seemed so off. It isn’t possession really, we are, more or less, one person now. There is more to the tale, but I have to go and see to the issues of the day.” He felt torn, since he hadn’t shared nearly enough to satisfy himself on the matter.

The Prince nodded.

“I have been told some of that, to be fair. I heard you talking to that magical seeming, when Franken died, even. I’d thought that the effect had faded, though. Father made it seem as if that might be the case.” There was a troubled glance from the driver’s seat, as if he felt he might have been lied to, directly. By someone.

Shaking his head, Anders managed a smile.

“Not so far. Worse, I fear that Master Franken had been sent with the crystal to attempt such a thing on purpose. Which... Well, if it’s a trick, then I haven’t been informed of it, personally. We need to be on the watch for that. Really, they should have set you to that task, being my friend. Clearly, if I’m some kind of spy or traitor, unknowing, then kill me at the earliest possible chance.”

He waved then, and rode off. There was no calling out for him to stop or explain more, which was a good thing. The idea that he, Farad, might not know that he had been sent to harm people was a thing that nearly crippled him in fear, for a moment. Anders kept them moving toward the front. Well, Brownie helped with that, being a good horse, as she was.

By the time they were headed forward, moving at a quick walk, Prince Robarts moved up alongside of him. The Heir to the throne seemed calm enough, at least on the outside.

“Can you ride and collect information using your magical skills, Anders? I know that Master Tolan can.”

He nodded, smiling a bit.

“Master Tolan is much better at this kind of thing than I am, however. I should be able to manage it, if we aren’t going too fast. The trick isn’t in getting into the correct trance state for it, but in not falling off the horse. Let me see here.” He took a moment to make certain his body was well balanced and that the road ahead was relatively flat and smooth. It was a bit damp, but it hadn’t been churned by forty wagons before he got to it this time, which made riding almost normal again.

When he closed his eyes, he searched for any dangers ahead of them, to the sides and behind them. That got him to nod and speak gently.

“Behind us, a good way back, is a small Yansian attack group. They aren’t after us in particular, but are dressed as ordinary citizens of Istlan. They seem bent on causing trouble, where they can. I...” He paused, the sense of someone noticing him watching them growing for a moment, before the whole group of enemy attackers suddenly vanished from his magical sight. “I was noticed and they’re gone now. They seem to be off this road, by about twenty or thirty miles and off to the side.”

There was a nod then, from the Prince, as Sir Humphrey rode up. Rob looked at the other fellow and shook his head.

“Meaning they have a magic user of some sort with them. Probably a good one, if they can hide from a wizard’s sight like that. Can you mark their position and send that information off to my Father, do you think? While we ride, I mean.”

Anders stared at the man, still in a trance and shook his head a bit.

“Not quickly, or well. The men ahead aren’t in place yet. We can get there at about the same time they arrive, if we hurry. I’ll try to get a short message off to Master Tolan, just in case he hasn’t found the group behind us yet.” The man may well have, but the weakness of wizardry was that you had to look in the correct location, to collect the information you needed. Plus, if someone could hide from that sight, on purpose, they might well be too hard to find.

Anders had done it, but he’d checked for threats daily for a week. Many times per day and this was the first time he’d noticed that particular group at all. It made sense that whoever they were, they’d be on guard from the King’s Wizard as their main focus. At least if they were intelligent and sane. That being the case, then Anders, who was far from as accomplished as Master Tolan, might have been blocked or hidden from seeing them.

He had to ride with his eyes closed for a time and nearly slipped off Brownie, more than once, since they couldn’t stop to let him sit on something that wasn’t moving. Not at the moment. It meant that it took him nearly twice as long to compose the short message as it should have, and when he finally spoke the thing out loud, he wasn’t truly certain that it was enough to set anyone in the right direction.

After a full two minutes of speaking in his magical gibberish language, directly contacting Master Tolan, he waited. Interestingly, instead of a mere feeling of the other man noticing him, which was their normal fashion for passing such things, he heard a voice. One speaking a single word, five times in a row.

“Understood.” It was Master Tolan’s voice, if perhaps a bit deeper and more authoritative than he normally heard the other man being.

Anders opened his eyes then.

“They have the message. It’s a bit frustrating. I feel like I should ride back and stop them, but...”

Sir Daniel laughed. It was a hearty thing. One that didn’t sound like the man had been nearly dead less than two weeks before.

“That’s always the way of it, isn’t it? We need to see to our main task first, even knowing about another threat. Getting to the front, with the goods intact. That lies ahead of us. We know of a threat to the rear, but can’t let that distract us from what’s needed, even if it means others will die or be harmed.” The thin man took a deep breath then, as some of the others turned a bit in their saddles, to look at him.

As if he might be speaking too harshly or out of turn. He wasn’t. Anders understood that portion, clearly. Sir Daniel was simply reminding him of their duty there, because he viewed the boy with them as a child. Not in an insulting fashion, either. He was lecturing a bit, perhaps, but it was done in a way that spoke of him expecting only good results, not with a harsh tone or as a reprimand. It was just as if he didn’t know if anyone had informed Anders of that fact before.

Which they hadn’t, in any direct sense.

So he simply nodded, still lightly in a trance state. It would leave him seeming a bit too calm and subdued, he didn’t doubt. As if he didn’t understand that they were riding into danger ahead.

“I understand, Sir Daniel. They should be about...” He pointed with his left hand, showing that the body of people they hunted were still on the right-hand side of the road, even if the dam they wanted to break open would be on the left. “Twenty minutes ride from here. They’re moving as we are. If we could push the pace slightly, we might be there before they are. I think they’re moving through the brush, off the proper road. That’s slowing them down.”

Sir Humphrey merely sped his horse slightly, not really pushing the animal at all. Brownie kept up, easily enough. Then, she was carrying nearly a hundred pounds less than any of the other beasts were. No one seemed to be labored in their breathing, though as they approached the correct spot, some time later, a few of the men were showing signs of anticipation.

Anders wasn’t. Then, he was in a trance still, which explained at least a portion of that kind of thing. He directed them, silently, to the dam, which was a small thing, with a nice lake behind it, but that was built of wood and had a small trickling stream which passed under a bridge to the other side of the road.

Sir Humphrey waved to the structure, which was back from their position enough to be nearly out of sight.

“It seems we got here first. We can hide in the woods and see if our friends will be along shortly? Anders, you have a plan for that?”

He nodded, since he actually did.

“I need to string my bow and to go to the other side of the road. We should try to capture some of them alive, if we can. I want to check and see who hired them. I haven’t gotten a name or a good description of them, using my wizardry skills. The men might know more.”

That got a nod, though no promise it would work. Still, the men didn’t insist that Anders not take his bow and head to the other side of the road alone, either. A trickle of fear settled inside of him. The Farad portion at any rate, but he didn’t bother letting it show externally, as he hid in the bushes, near what he was certain was the correct animal trail to meet with the men.

When they got there, moving carefully, but not in a covert fashion, he could hear them talking. Chattering, really.

“We’re close, now. It’s been a while since I’ve been out this way, but when we worked on the dam it was near the crossing bridge. We should probably tie the horses and walk in, just in case we take the road faster than I think we will. Good beasts, so I don’t want to lose them. Spent half what I was paid for this girl.” The man came into view, patting his tan horse on the neck. She seemed to be a good enough animal, though not as refined or pretty as Brownie or Chestnut.

The other men more or less agreed with the idea, so helpfully got off their mounts, tied them up and walked almost directly in Anders’ direction. It would make it harder for them to escape, not being on horseback, he had to figure.

He muttered softly, placing a simple enough spell on the arrow he’d selected. It was a new one for him, since he wasn’t trying to kill anyone. Not yet.

“Bi ti ah hom, trin.” When he felt the spell sink into the wood of his nocked arrow, he pulled back and fired it into the ground at the feet of the walking men. The effect was what he’d called for, but looked different than he’d assumed it would.

Each of the men was suddenly hit, as if struck by a blow, three times. The sound of it was muffled and not sharp like a slap at all. They didn’t all fall down or anything that impressive, but each of them called out at the sudden assault.

“Gah!”

Anders stepped out on the path, another arrow pulled already.

“Gentles. I need for you all to lie on the ground, now. If you attempt to flee, I’ll be forced to kill you.” He didn’t get to bluff them, as half of the men there simply did that without hesitation, running off, as soon as they saw who was there.

One caught an arrow in the back, which staggered him. Anders pushed his right fist at the back of another of the men and opened it, making him explode with a dull thumping noise, falling, with a large hole in his back and middle. The last one actually escaped into the woods. At least Anders thought that might have been what was happening, until he heard the groan of the man.

From the sound of things, one of the knights had prevented him from leaving too hastily.

Anders felt worked up, but made his voice low and as manly as he could manage with his youthful vocal cords.

“Now, lie on the ground, please. I have some questions for you.”

The men did that, if a bit slowly. Still, they were bound well enough, when Sir Daniel and Sir Clemence tied them up with a bit of rope. Then, a bit ceremonially, the four men were dragged out onto the road. The one with the arrow wound was crying a bit, but almost silently. Given it was a good lung hit, one that had passed through the man totally, that was understandable.

Walking over, Anders held out his right hand.

“I can try to heal that for you. It may not work.” He’d never tried to fix a real wound that way before. He had a spell worked out for it, but there were portions of it that were simply too new. Then, if this man died from it, that wouldn’t truly matter. He was going to do so regardless.

The fellow nodded though, as Anders stood back, muttering instructions carefully. It took nearly five minutes before he could really start, going slow to make certain he did it correctly, but only about two minutes to actually fix the damage. After a fashion. He couldn’t truly get the body to fix itself as of yet, so was mainly forming scar tissue. Still, the bleeding stopped, the skin sealed over the wound and the breathing mainly eased.

The man still seemed weak, when he spoke.

“Why did you shoot me?”

Anders smiled.

“Because you ran. I’d asked you not to. Who hired you to put those trees across the road? He had a Yansian accent and was a man, but that’s all I know, so far.”

Instead of denying that part of things, the man shrugged and took a slightly labored breath. The scar tissue would leave him tight that way, inside his right lung, for the rest of his life, most likely.

The man made a sour face at him and then shook his head.

“He didn’t exactly give no proper name. Then, we didn’t ask too much. He had gold and silver and told us that we needed to make the road impassable, through this area, if we could. That if we did, he’d pay double when he came back through in a season. Said he built a new road, further south, so making this one harder to travel for a while will push people to using his new one. He has businesses set up along that other path, I guess.”

The words didn’t explain why they were working with an obvious Yansian, while they were at war with them, but the other men nodded, agreeing at least that it was the story they were planning to go with that day. After going over things several times, including having Anders go into a trance, to sense their thoughts, Sir Humphrey finally nodded.

“That sounds likely, then. What you were actually doing was preventing supplies from getting through, from the King. That’s treason. The punishment for that is death.” He seemed ready to make that happen, then and there, which got Anders to wince.

The older man seemed annoyed, his sword in his hand.

“You have some other plan, Master Brolly?” The words were dry and sarcastic sounding, as if he expected the child to be weak enough to allow kindness to influence his decisions.

“Yes. We still have to kill them, but it could be for the crime of damaging the King’s road, not working for the enemy? They took gold to commit a criminal act, but they didn’t know they were doing it to act against the kingdom directly. They were lied to...” He waited then, since it was both a minor enough point and one that could be important.

A thing not lost on Prince Robarts, who glared at the men and then nodded.

“Right. Traitors lose everything and their families would be dispossessed. Mere criminals would lose their lives, but their people won’t be driven from their lands and homes. I think we should consider that, since it’s close enough to the truth.” He swallowed then, as if he thought the others would disagree with him on the matter.

Humphrey just nodded.

“That’s fine. We’ll report it that way, later.” He moved on the men then, causing some crying out and begging to take place. That didn’t stop him from beheading them, one by one. Anders had to move to help get them into position for it, which, bound or not, meant that the last two men tried to struggle against their fate rather hard. He was clipped on the side of the face well enough that it would leave a bruise. He also caught a boot to the middle, from the last man, which grazed his groin hard enough to cause him to lose his breath.

It was all he could do not to fall to the ground, clutching himself, as the man died.

Prince Robarts winced, after the men were all dead.

“Are you fit to ride, Anders?”

He was still gasping a bit and bent over, but nodded. Not that he truly felt like sitting on a horse would be a good plan at the moment.

“I should be fine. Do we bury these men?” He hadn’t really thought about it before, but Sir Daniel shook his head.

“No. Criminals killed on the road are marked and set alongside of it, as a warning to others not to risk doing such things in the future. It’s rare enough that bandits are taken, but we should see to that.”

The marking of the criminals was simple enough. Their hands were cut off and their bodies, without heads in most cases, were placed upright, with sharpened stakes jammed inside of them to make them stay partially upright. For the time being. Anders didn’t doubt that the local wildlife would be eating well that evening.

They rode back to the caravan, which meant that he had time to stop and hunt the wild swine, as well as collect some greens and a full canvas sack of nuts. It would take work to crack and roast them, but he had some time in the evenings, to see to things like that. Not enough time, really, but that was his life now. Anders, the boy, simply shrugged at the idea, after they rode back toward the road, breathing slightly hard, with ten good sized pigs floating behind them. Brownie was fine with that idea, but the other horses seemed to find that kind of thing a bit strange. Still, they settled down after a while, which meant that the bled pigs were stacked on the back of his wagon and in the meat cart, about an hour later.

That night, the Caravan Master pushed them a bit further, to a nice overnight spot. One past the dead bodies by a good bit. That meant it was dark out when they were setting up, trying to find wood and cook without everything they were used to, like the ability to see. They had water though, which Ery and Faine collected for them in several buckets.

It was clear that people had been through that area before, recently, since there was almost no fodder for the horses or oxen. The field they were in was hard dirt, with barely enough grass to hold it in place. He had to use magic to get enough for their horses and oxen that night, summoning it from about a half mile away. Then, understanding the situation, he waved to Mary and Betha when they came over.

“We have ten pigs to see to. I didn’t have a chance to butcher them yet. The rest of the meat is frozen still, so it will keep. I have greens in and we still have some roots left over. I need to see to food for the animals though. That... It’s not going to be easy.” He was exhausted from doing the twenty horses and oxen that his people had with them. Doing the same thing for the entire caravan was a task he did not look forward to.

Mary noticed that the animals near him were eating already, and then she glanced around the area, noticing that none of the others were yet.

“That’s the important bit. The less we have to dig into the grain we brought for them, the better off we all are. We’ll handle the meal, while you do that. We get cute little Ery to help with that?” She giggled, since the boy was standing not ten feet away, looking at her as if mildly offended by her words.

Anders nodded.

“Don’t tease him. He’s going to have to take an extra watch tonight, I think. Besides, he’s bigger than I am, so let’s cut it with the little idea. I don’t want to spend the rest of the trip being tiny Andy, if it’s possible to avoid that now.” He wasn’t that wild about being called Andy at all, truth be told. It didn’t bother Farad that much, but Anders bristled at it a little, each time it was used.

That got laughter, from both the women, with Mary waving at Ery.

“Sorry there, Ery. I shouldn’t tease. You’re young, and not too much of that. Plus, a squire, which speaks of high expectations, doesn’t it? Betha here was saying just last night that she should get with child by you, so you’ll be forced to marry her, proper like. That seems a solid plan, since she isn’t actually a whore yet. Not really. Close enough to pure that a good man could marry her, at any rate.”

The girl blushed and looked away, as Ery coughed a bit. Then he spoke, managing not to seem too unkind about it. After all, while not a high beauty, Betha was only a few years older than Erold was and certainly had all the basic skills of a wife. At least she could cook and had offered to help sew the clothing for the children with them.

“I suppose that would be a good plan, normally. My wife wouldn’t be pleased with me if I came back with another woman at the end of the trip. I don’t think, at least.” He winced then, since he was giving too much away, mentioning being married like that.

Boys didn’t normally do that until they were at least sixteen, sometimes older than that. Girls would often marry younger, but normally to older men. Ones that had already established themselves in the world.

Mary grinned at him then.

“I didn’t know you had a lady back home. Do all the squires have wives?” She didn’t seem to know that would be uncommon, at least.

Erold shook his head.

“No, it was a special matter. A thing arranged by our parents.” Then, thankfully, he stopped talking, before he gave so much away that anyone listening would put things together. After all, a married fourteen-year-old boy, who came from the castle, called Ery, was probably not going to keep his title secret for long.

Anders distracted them, calling in more fodder to where he was standing, using a decently brief spell for it. Then he walked around the camp, doing it over and over again, ending up standing at the back of the encampment, near the end of the caravan train, where the more broken-down animals and wagons were. Wood had been collected, but several of the ladies there were struggling to get them started, all the dry wood having been taken by the others in the encampment. That meant they didn’t have enough light to see that there was food for the animals yet.

The horses, oxen and in a few cases goats, started to eat as soon as they had something to chew on, however, which was good enough for him. Walking to one of the would-be fire pits, which was tidily arranged, an older woman used a flint and steel to make sparks, over and over again, he waved a bit. She could see him in the dim light, so nodded back.

“We’ll have this started, eventually. I should just go and ask for a brand from one of the other fires, but we were told not to bother the high types, if we want to travel with the caravan.” She sighed. “Now, what may I do for you, young sir? I don’t recognize you, do I?”

Anders didn’t know, of course, but it was dark enough that she might have mistaken him for one of the other boys with them. There were a few in the same age range and even the same size.

“I’m Anders. Andy the message boy? Anyway, we have fodder for the animals now. They’re already eating. Let me see to the fire here. I can...” He nearly didn’t mention how he planned to do it, but finally shrugged. “I can use magic to dry the wood and start that. I know, magic is all frightening and all that. Except that it really isn’t. Not if it’s just me doing it.” He waited since the woman really did go very still and seemed scared.

After a moment he just started into work. It didn’t take him too long, but drying the wood first was worth the extra effort. When he held his right hand up, pointed into the stack of wood inside the stone circle, his first and fourth fingers out, with the rest held under his palm, the blaze started rapidly enough. The woman cleared her throat, after catching a face full of smoke.

“Thanks be unto you, my lord mage. For the fire and that food for the animals. I was worried that they’d be going hungry this night.” She shook a bit, but managed to smile. “Forgive me. I’m being silly. What can I do for you? There should be food, I think. We were told that there were more greens and some pigs coming, for our meal. That part was a surprise. We’d been told to start that we’d probably half starve on the journey, if we didn’t have enough with us for at least half a season. Each night the army men have come and made certain we all have enough. They said that the knights with us got it for us? That the King himself sent a hunter with them, so that we could take food off of his lands, direct like, without being put to death for poaching.” She didn’t sound that certain of the idea, herself.

Still, it was close enough that Anders was able to nod over it.

“That’s correct. More to the point, King Mathias didn’t send a special hunter, but he’s allowed us the right to hunt and gather provisions from his woods and along the road as we go. The job of getting the extra food in has mainly been my task. We’re also planning to get some new clothing going for the children and women. The winter will be cold, where we’re going. Some of the knights requested that be seen to for them.”

The woman looked away then and shook her head.

“That’s kindness from a place I wouldn’t have expected it, Lord. I can sew a bit, if I have the material? That’s the hard part to see to. Some... They might need new shoes or boots, as well.” She shrank down inside of herself then, as if she were mentioning something that she had no right to.

Anders moved toward her a bit, then put his hands out, to warm them over the fire, which had caught well enough.

“I haven’t done that before. Boots. I should be able to work something out that way. We have some leather we can use for it. Nothing like real cloth for the clothing though. I’ll try to work out how to do that, in time. Anyway, I didn’t get your name, miss?”

There was a chuckle from the older lady then, at him naming her as being so young.

“Fola Horner. I haven’t been a miss in some time. My husband is with the third division, so I was joining him for the winter. It’s been some time since we’ve been on campaign like this. It was easier the last time. I was a new bride back then. He’s a captain.”

Anders simply smiled then.

“You’re Captain Horner’s wife? I know him then. In fact, I work with him, regularly.” He looked side to side and then sat near her at the fire and whispered. “I can pass messages to him, using magic, if you want something sent? Don’t tell anyone else about that. He’s the only person I can send things to at the front right now, so we need to protect him from being discovered by the enemy, if we can.”

She went still and then nodded.

“There was something about a new position, if a temporary one. Something about passing messages along. Are you Master Brolly, then? From the sound of you in his letters, I would have thought you at least fifteen feet tall and built nearly that wide. He spoke of you having handled most of a battle on your own.” She grinned at the idea.

Anders did too, even if it was true, after a fashion. It sounded insanely silly, to be truthful.

“Anders Brolly. Andy for this portion of the trip. What message would you like to send, if any? I can do that at almost any time. As long as we aren’t moving. I mean, I can sit and do it, but I can’t drive a wagon at the same time or anything like that.”

The woman seemed ready to demure, then shook her head.

“I should do that then. Let me plan that out? Something not too long, I promise.”

He was willing to wait, since he was tired already, and sitting was easier than walking away, but it was clear the woman wasn’t planning to be ready until after the late meal.

That meant he was able to go back to his own camp, and not being needed to cook that night, since Mary, Betha and Ery actually were doing a good job, he started to husk, crack and roast the large nuts he’d collected. He did stop to eat when the food was ready, with everyone else sitting, if they weren’t on guard duty.

It was a bit delicate, getting the nuts to roast in a pan, which was settled on some hot coals, the metal lid buried in them, but he was getting the hang of it by the time that Fola came to find him. The woman smiled when she saw him, which had Mary narrow her eyes at the lady. As if she might be trying to do something inappropriate by being there.

The woman, her red dress looking impressive in the firelight, sounded a bit cool toward the other lady.

“May I help you?”

Anders didn’t wait for the other woman to answer, not wanting to spread to all and sundry that he could connect with the front lines directly.

“I have some small things to attend to with Lady Horner here. We can do that at your fire?” The one he was at was large enough, and bright, which meant he could make out her face a bit more clearly. She wasn’t as old as he’d thought, though she had gray streaks in her hair. Her face had lines at the corners of the eyes, but otherwise she seemed young enough for the trip they were on. Which was good, since Captain Horner wasn’t exactly some ancient, himself.

Mary shook her head then.

“I don’t think I like the idea of you coming here and running off with Andy alone. He’s only twelve. That isn’t proper.”

Where that idea was coming from, Anders didn’t know. Farad didn’t either. It was, interestingly enough, Sir Daniel that nodded.

“There’s a point there. I’ll chaperone, if that isn’t too unwelcome, Anders?” The words had Fola looking like someone had stuffed a whole chicken up her skirts.

Anders simply nodded.

“That would be fine, of course. This won’t take too long. It’s just a bit of magic that’s needed. Here, I need to pull the nuts off the heat.”

Once that was finished, using a stick to clear the top of the pan, and a heavy cloth to turn them onto, so they wouldn’t continue to roast, he moved off with the woman and Sir Daniel walking behind them, about ten feet away. The lady didn’t say anything, until they were at her camp, seeming flustered.

“I’m really not attempting to do anything untoward with the boy.”

Sir Daniel nodded at her.

“Of course you aren’t. Still, Mary back there was getting ready to scratch your eyes out, if you were. I think she’s taken a liking to Anders, to tell the truth. I figured that me walking along would be better than hostilities breaking out.” He shrugged then and smiled. “A woman could do worse. Andy might be young, but he’s capable and sturdy.”

It took a few moments to realize that the fellow was actually talking him up, as a prospective husband. That or someone to spend the night with.

As they settled, Anders simply explained, his voice going low.

“This is Captain Horner’s wife. The man we can contact at the front? We’re sending a message to him, if he’s available for it. I can check on that and then send the message along. It shouldn’t take long, once I know what it is.”

That portion wasn’t entirely true, since the two page letter, going over the travel, their expected time of arrival, the other conditions and that they’d been removing bandits and hostiles on the road, was lengthy. It also had several endearments that would, no doubt, shock the Captain to hear in a manly voice.

Still, he encoded the needed spell for it over the course of half an hour, and checked to make certain the man was awake and not being besieged or in a fight at the moment.

Then, taking nearly ten minutes to speak the whole thing out, since it had to be broken down phonetically, he sent it off. With only two repetitions, since it was so much longer than a normal message. He started it with an explanation that it was a message from Fola Horner. When he was finished, he had to wait for a bit, some moments, before Captain Horner truly had the message down.

He was pleased enough with it, as it turned out. A bit concerned for his wife, being on the road like she was but he trusted that she’d be safe, traveling with Master Brolly. In his thoughts, they were closer than being in the same caravan with hundreds of others, for some reason. Even if that had been mentioned, plainly, by the lady. The man didn’t seem jealous, though he did wonder if his wife was going to be used by the boy, in a way that Anders found a bit annoying.

Standing, he bowed toward the woman, which had Sir Daniel on his feet at the same time.

“He has the message and understands it. I should get back to roasting those nuts. It’s nearly time for the first watch, too.” He didn’t scurry away, not having enough energy left for that, really. Part of him just wanted to go to sleep, but there was too much to do for that kind of thing.

He still had to do his bow training exercises for the night.

Those weren’t fun, or interesting, but he truly was getting stronger, over time. Mary and Betha were still by their fire, working on processing the food for the next day, using a bit of salt on the nuts, so that they’d be more flavorful. Betha had worked up a small mesh of sticks, and was smoking some of them as well, which was a good idea, if not a thing that he’d have thought of himself. On seeing all of that, he simply sat, feeling as if his very bones were aching.

The woman in the red skirt glared at him a bit, then did the same with Sir Daniel.

“So, is your virtue still intact, Andy? That one has a reputation. Steals more business from us honest whores than I like to admit, she does. She’s married, too, I heard. Hardly proper, is it?” There was a sniff then, a judgmental thing that made Anders tilt his head to the side.

“She was fine. I know her husband and she needed some small work done. That’s all.”

There was a second sniff then and a hoity look that he didn’t normally associate with Mary. Betha nodded though, and looked away, as if it made any sense at all for them to be judging the woman for her habits.

“That’s a likely tale, isn’t it? She lures you in with some simple tasks, then after a while, she’s thankful and offers to warm your bed, lacking coin to properly pay you... I’ve seen that kind before. Best watch yourself there, Andy. Not all that do that sort of thing are as honest as Betha and I are.”

The words seemed meant, even if he was having trouble putting together what the woman was getting at. He wondered if it was about the competition or that the other woman did such things for free, which lowered the going rate for others.

Betha finally shook her head.

“No married woman had call to do such things. She should be at home with her children, not leaving them with relatives and traipsing around like this.”

He shook his head, but didn’t comment on what they were doing and saying. They, no doubt, had their reasons for it, even if Anders didn’t have the context to understand what they were going on about. After a bit, he simply nodded at the women.

“We should get the nuts finished in the next batch. Then I... Well, I need to do some things.”

It felt like it was always something, any longer. Which was probably about correct, for a young man seeking to make his way in the world.

Chapter ten

By the time they were at the rearward camp, where the woman and children would be staying, about five miles away from the front lines, Anders kind of hated the idea of magic. It wasn’t that he’d slacked off on his studies of it, or that anyone had pestered him too much for special favors or aid, even. It was simply that his own plans, hunting and making clothing for some people who needed it, had been met with a soupy and thick mud that had made travel nearly impossible.

Rather than let that happen, Anders had moved his wagon to the front of the line, much to the Caravan Masters annoyance at first, then spent most of his time during the day casting spells on the road, to dry it out and smooth it, long enough to allow them to pass. It had still been slow going, with the whole line traveling at about half speed the entire time.

It also meant that he’d spent weeks gasping the whole time and struggling to rise in the morning so that he could get some food in for people. Even with the others taking all the cooking duties for him, with Mary and Betha doing a lot of that work, Anders was barely able to eat enough. The food was there, but a combination of feeling constantly ill, along with being unable to eat all that was required wore at him. In the few weeks they were on the road, he’d visibly lost weight. He’d started out being somewhat slender, and ended the trip raw and underfed seeming.

Even as he ate, nearly constantly.

There was a soft cheer, when they finally entered the encampment. Oh, it was a mud pit as well as the roads had been, but Anders wasn’t responsible for that portion of things at all. From one wagon behind him, as a gentle rain fell, the Caravan Master called out.

“Circle left! Circle left!”

Anders did it, since he was still in the front of the line. A thing which meant doing even more work, even if he shouldn’t have had to. The ground in front of them wasn’t as bad as the road, but if they didn’t want the end wagons being sunk to their axles, he needed to dry the area. That was huge, of course. The worst part of his days had become stopping for the evening. When he had to push to dry out a huge seeming field each time. He did it, hoping it would be the last such event for him, at least for a few days.

That wasn’t going to work, of course. It was actively raining, after all. He still had to visit each of the foreward camps, in his own person, which would mean taking the wagon with him, since he had things to deliver. After casting spells for longer than it felt like it should have taken, most of the wagons simply stopped. They were there to make deliveries to the front, but the Army would come and get the goods, rather than force the wagoneers to close with danger too directly.

Something interesting happened, as Anders finally sighed and let the spells go. He was wet, both from exertion and the rain, but had managed to keep himself and his gear clean enough, over the last days. Some of the knights and squires had been stinted that way a bit, but Sir Rob and Squire Ery were both tidy enough when they rode up to him. They’d both taken to staying closer to the back of the line the whole time, well away from him.

He would have taken it personally, but Erold actually smiled at him as they approached.

“The magic is done for now? I had to hide away for days, since you were working so hard. It made me feel bad, watching it happen. Not that I’m going to complain about not having to ride in hip deep muck the whole way.”

The Caravan Master snorted then and glanced at Anders as if impressed with something.

“No, you won’t. None who have ever done it will, neither. That was a fine bit of magic you did there, boy.” Then the man turned to the others who were coming to the front. There were thirty military men, in red and leather, who were pretending not to be miserable in the rain and damp. The knights and squires all moved to the same general area, with Sir Humphrey taking the lead there. A few of the wagon folk did the same. None of them were women, of course. After all, they were already at their destination. Their men, or the soldiers who wished their services, would have to come to them, from that point on.

The head knight waved at all of his people.

“We need to report in, to each of the generals. Brolly, you have the roads for us?” The words were bland, but he nodded, even if his secret heart sort of wanted to curse the man for the suggestion. It was just too good of a trick not to use.

“Yes. I need to eat again, first.” He could have added more, but everyone got that the work wasn’t precisely easy or simple for him. No one had begrudged him having extra food, either. A few had looked at him strangely over it, but in the main he thought they understood the basic idea. The more he did, the more he had to eat, if he didn’t want to fail, in the future.

The knight simply nodded at him at the words.

“Do that now, then. Prince Erold, would you help with that?”

Ery simply rode to the food cart, which was full of frozen meat, but also had some cooked in it. They’d been keeping the cheese and flour for later, for the last week or so, since it was considered almost impossible to hunt or fish where the army was holding up. The men would either scare everything away or eat it, in the first months they were there. It was why there was another caravan a week behind them, and would be, until the snow made it impossible for them to get through any longer. Then the men would be on iron rations until spring came.

Most of the people around them looked at Erold as if it were rare or impressive to be a Prince. There was some bowing, even as the boy quickly got some of the cooked meat from the night before out of the back of the medium cart, along with some already cooked roots. Those were plump and sweet, if a bit odd in flavor. Not bad, simply a little musky at the edges. Still, they were edible and he was the one that had collected them up, so when a cloth came at him from his friend, filled with enough food to choke him, even after all his recent practice in eating, he tucked into them first.

The Caravan Master regarded the youngest Prince a bit coolly.

“I wasn’t made aware that we had such an esteemed person with us.” He sounded a little bitter over that idea. As if it would have been easier to travel with a fancy noble than one who was willing to pull his own weight.

Sir Daniel laughed a bit at the idea. It got everyone to turn to look at the man, as he sat comfortably on his horse. His cloak was sopping wet, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“He didn’t even bring an attendant, if you can believe that. Neither did Prince Robarts. Trust me, this is the easiest time I’ve ever had traveling with a Prince!”

Robarts choked a bit on that, snorting in a fashion that seemed less than dignified.

“I wager that’s a simple truth. Now, we should see to delivering Master Brolly to the first general. You’ll need some weeks there, in each camp, Anders?” He seemed willing enough to let that take place, but Anders shook his head.

“Less than that, possibly. It depends on how quickly I can learn what I need to.” He stopped eating in order to speak, then started again without hesitation, since they were all waiting on him, for the time being.

The Heir looked at him and nodded, understanding things without being told.

“We should take the time to tidy ourselves then, so we can leave a good impression. I don’t suppose that the mail and perhaps gambeson could be altered in color? We look a bit poor at the moment. Which was the plan, but...”

Anders chuckled a little, bouncing in place on the wagon seat. He didn’t mean it, which was clear to everyone there. He whined a bit then, not meaning to.

“I’m so tired...” He was, but he didn’t expect anyone to really understand how trying the last days had been at all. After a second he rallied though and shook his head. “Still, I can rest in a bit. Let me finish this and then I’ll see to that portion of things for us all.”

It took a while, since he had to do all of the mail and gambeson separately. Then, when they rode out, he used as much energy to smooth the rutted mud pit that they were calling a road as driving the water from the soil. That wouldn’t keep it from getting damp again, probably inside the hour. It let him ride on top of the ground though, instead of inside of it. That meant they traveled oxen fast, so were able to reach the first of the three front camps in about two hours. It was just past mid-day when that took place.

They got stares, since they were all in matching scarlet with shining silver mail over it. They were clean, as well, and even smelled nice, or at least as if they’d bathed regularly, which wasn’t the truth. He’d pushed himself, making certain each of the men with him would be well represented. It was probably a waste of his energy, but once he’d done it for the Princes, he felt obligated to make certain everyone else had the same chance.

That meant they looked good, when the twelve knights, their squires and then a sturdy, well filled wagon and a food filled cart pulled into the camp. There were guards at the front of it, who called to Anders to stop.

“Halt.” The man doing the work was in a filthy uniform, with mud spattered leggings and a brown cloak that looked almost ready to fall off of him, it was so threadbare. Next to him the man was wrapped in a wet gray blanket.

Both of them looked at the knights behind him, then at the road, which was actually a road again, instead of what it had been a few moments before.

The men stood there for a bit, with the one who had spoken, who was a sergeant, from the markings on his chest, being three lines next to each other, finally looked at Anders, then nodded, slowly.

“May I have your name, sir?” He wasn’t mocking about the use of the title, even if it had to be clear that the boy in the wagon wouldn’t be a knight.

“I’m Anders Brolly. I have some deliveries for General Coelder, from various people. Some letters and a few gifts for the men here, as well. Behind me we have Prince Robarts, his brother, Prince Erold, Sir Humphrey...” He shrugged, since the man clearly wasn’t paying attention any longer, his mouth hanging open.

After a moment of silence, the men both bowed, doing it roughly, aiming toward the mounted royalty. They didn’t stand for a long time, but when they did, Anders smiled at the two men.

“So... Are we allowed in?” They might not be, of course. They could be Yansian spies or an attack group, using a trick to gain access to the camp.

The two men both nodded, in unison.

“You can. The wagon and cart, well, I don’t think you can get those in. It’s all mud, in here. Sir Brolly.” The man seemed hesitant at the use of the title, but as if he wasn’t planning to not use such a thing, if he could help it.

Anders just nodded.

“I’ll fix that. Which way do we need to go?”

The man in the gray blanket pointed toward the center of the tent village.

“Down the main way here. About an eighth of a mile, so it isn’t far. The big tent. There are three of them there, with the flags on em, so you won’t be missing em.” He was a bit younger, and needed to shave. That or grow his beard all the way out.

They all needed to do that, including the heir. Even Erold had fuzz on his chin that could have been cleared away with a good razor. Of all of them, only Anders was free of such a thing, at the moment.

Nodding, he started in on fixing the mud in front of him, then working out where the water needed to go. Downhill, outside of the camp, was the obvious plan, if he didn’t want to simply flood someone’s tent as they moved. It was easier on the road, since he could simply move the water over about ten paces, as they moved. This time he had to make a small stream, hardening the sides of it and making certain that it wouldn’t be in anyone’s way too much. It felt like it took forever, but none of the soldiers tried to stop him from doing it.

Probably due to the fact that, as soon as they had real drainage, the whole camp started to firm up, even in the places where he hadn’t driven the water away. By the time he got to the big tents though, he was nearly blacking out from the exertion. The weight of the water was in the tons, and at every moment, new water flooded into the area, as soon as it was dry again. They needed to see to real drainage, he decided. It was a thing he could try doing, if he had any free time in the coming days.

He dropped all of the magic, as Sir Humphrey called out.

“Hail! General Coelder, we have visitors from King Mathias and some deliveries for you!” The tone was cheery enough that the thin, gray haired but fit seeming man came out with a smile on his lips.

Then, taking in who was there, he bowed.

“Prince Robarts, Prince Erold. Worthies. Thank you for coming. We had a message that you were to arrive soon. From Master Tolan? He passed it to Captain Horner, directly, using communications magics.” Then, a bit oddly, the man smiled at Anders, directly and waved. “Master Brolly! We’ve set a tent for you, next to mine, as per instructions. There’s another for Prince Robarts... I’m afraid that Prince Erold...” He looked ashamed then, for some reason. “We only have the three large tents. We’ve moved command into mine, but that leaves us a bit short.”

It was interesting, since several of the knights looked ready to begin fighting over the slight. Anders looked at the giant tents and shrugged.

“We get two of these?”

General Coelder nodded, seeming strained.

“That’s right. Not splendid conditions, for such esteemed personages, but we are at war. I would have had something built, but we’re moving camp in a few days, due to the conditions here. That...” He glanced at the ground under the wagon and went a bit wide eyed then. “You can turn the mud back into dirt? How? More to the point, can you do this on a scale large enough for us to march forces out? If we can do that, the Yansies won’t have a chance right now.”

Anders winced, but understood the basic idea. If they could stand on firm ground to fight and the other side was in knee deep muck, there would be a clear advantage.

Prince Robarts nodded and spoke in a deep, almost regal, voice.

“Master Brolly can, within certain limits. It’s vastly hard work for him, so we need to use that sparingly for the time being. He did most of the road behind us for the last two hundred miles though, to give you an idea of what might be done. We’ll work on that in a bit? For now, I think you have some gifts.”

Anders had to scramble then, to get all of the things going to the General directly. There was help, since several of the squires moved to make certain nothing was dropped or damaged. The box of spirits for the man was fine, as well as some tins of sweets, and a delivery of blankets and healing herbs and alchemical aids to maintain health.

It wasn’t a vast amount of things, but that and some letters for the men, as well as the General himself, were what they had for him. A similar bundle for the other two camps as well, of course. The General smiled, pleasantly enough at what had come for him.

“Perfect. Thank you, Master Brolly. This is most appreciated and the men will enjoy their portion as well. Now, we should get you all settled, somewhere.” His face tightened again, with the knights moving their hands toward their weapons, as if that would aid anything.

Anders simple waved at one of the tents.

“We’ll put everyone in these. It will be a bit close, with all the armor in the other wagon, if we need to put that inside. We can place those out here though, on firm ground, if that won’t be in the way too much? That settles the people, if not the animals.”

They had a place for those, off to the south, away from the camp, a good way. That was to keep the smell from being too bad, Farad assumed. Not that the camp, which had tens of thousands of men, was any better at the moment. That they hadn’t lost half of them to disease so far was incredible, given the visible conditions.

Prince Robarts gave him a look that was oddly tolerant, given that the plan was to pack him away with ten other people when he clearly deserved his own accommodations.

“Very well, Master Brolly. We should see to those things then. We’ll meet in an hour, General?”

That got a bow, and Anders was set to running, trying to get things settled with the animals. Several military men tried to come and take all the horses away, as well as the oxen, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not with knights and squires in the mix. They all insisted on seeing to their animals themselves, which required more firming of soil and better drainage, before they were happy with where their animals would be spending the night.

The two wagons, his and the large armor filled one, as well as the medium sized cart, were stored outside of his tent. The idea being that no one would get into his things that way. Not without it being noticed, at any rate. It probably wouldn’t work, but the less theft they had to deal with, the better.

Still, an hour later, Anders was waved to follow Prince Robarts, with Prince Erold walking alongside his brother. They got Sir Humphrey as well, though the other knights weren’t allowed inside the main tent, for some reason. Probably a simple space consideration, since it was half filled with military men already. Including Captain Horner, who waved at him when he entered.

“Brolly! I see you made good time. Is Fola with you?” There was no anticipation in the words, since she clearly wasn’t standing outside, on the front lines.

“Back in the rearward camp. The road should hold firm for a while, so you should get away to see her, if possible.” He knew it might not be, of course.

The General waved for them to sit. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, but the ground was dry so Anders moved back and to the side, leaving those to the people who would be needed for important planning issues. He was there to memorize and learn about people, after all. That didn’t really take him being directly involved in the planning sessions.

Prince Erold apparently felt something similar, so moved in alongside of him. That got a few strange looks from the military men there, though several of them did the same thing, instead of standing the whole time. They were mainly lower ranked officers. That left real seating for six. It was worked out, after a few moments.

Then the General nodded at Captain Horner.

“We’ll hurry here, so that you and the other men with family can go and see to them. Now, we’ve been at something of a stalemate, due to the weather, over the last days. We get to have Master Brolly now though? For the rest of the war?” He smiled then, clearly understanding that wasn’t going to be happening. He chuckled though. “We have some other magic users here. Mainly those who specialize in healing and two wizards, for our reconnoitering needs. No combat-oriented mages, however. Certainly no one willing to go to the battle lines to back us there.”

Half of the military men looked baffled, but the older man waved in his direction.

“This is Master Brolly. Unlike most of our magical forces here, he’s a combat veteran. Also the man King Mathias sent to us, to ensure good communications. More importantly to us, he can dry the roads, using magic. That means we might actually be able to send a small squad or two out, in the coming days. If you’re willing, that is, Master Brolly?” He waited then, as if the answer might be no.

Anders didn’t get to answer, since Sir Humphrey did it for him.

“We need to rest him for a few days. He did most of the hunting and gathering of food, along with magical duties for us, as we traveled. We’ve pushed him a bit. His main task here is to get to know your selected men, for communications. Six of them, if possible. You directly, General, and those others here who are willing and chosen.” He glanced at the men there and shrugged, his lips curling into a smile. “That means he can kill you at a distance, if he needs.”

The words weren’t that helpful, since a lot of people feared that kind of thing, in a way that didn’t make much sense. For some reason, the General laughed.

“Death comes for all men. No one here will fear it from Master Brolly, in particular. I believe that means assigning people to spend time with you, Master Brolly? We could do that while we prepare for that mission, in a few days?” He was pushing for that part of things, but Anders tilted his head and then nodded. It was a lot of work for him, but if he got to rest first, should be possible.

“That will work well enough. Whom will I be working with?” He glanced around the tent, as if the right men would be there already. That wasn’t the case at all.

“We’ll have them sent over, as soon as we’re finished here. Now, let me get the maps.”

Over the next hour they were given a quick overview of the battles that had taken place so far, as well as where the Yansians were encamped and their rough numbers. Unlike at Sapphire Lake, their forces slightly outnumbered the other men in the region. At the last battle Anders had been at, they’d been outnumbered five to one. He had to like the sound of the current situation better.

Then, quickly enough that it had to be an established plan, the General pointed out a pathway he wanted to use for attack.

“This road, well, it’s more of a dirt track the locals use in the summer. Right now, it’s fine, since no one has ridden it much. The ground is soft enough that it’s not worth bothering with, to be honest about it. If we could place, say, three hundred men on it, on foot and say, fifty horse? I don’t know how well you can hold the road firm...”

Anders didn’t either, but Prince Robarts shook his head. That got the General to frown, until the man spoke.

“He was able to get a slow caravan with hundreds of horses, other animals and a hundred pulled wagons clear each day. We can probably send in, oh, ten thousand men, in a similar space? Five thousand on foot and two hundred horse, at least. Then the road will soften behind them, so if we have to retreat, Master Brolly will need to be ready to do it again. A lot of it will come down to movement speed. The faster we can travel, the more troops we can take with us.”

The General smiled then, in a way that indicated he’d just been delivered a gift.

“Ah! That’s impressive, then! Not that getting even a few hundred men to the right place wouldn’t be. So, we can march ten thousand fast foot and call it two hundred horse, and hit them here. This camp is bordered by a stream on one side and their horse field on the other. The wizards tell me that it’s even worse than our own, at present and that the men and women there can barely move at all. If we can have a firm place to stand, and hold the horse back, instead of charging, the bow can take a lot of their forces, costing us very little.”

They worked out the plans then, fairly quickly. The main point was that the other side didn’t have many people at that location, only about four thousand and reinforcements couldn’t reach them in time to give real aid, if their side could move in quickly enough. The plan wasn’t a kind or fair one, but it made sense and would have them be the ones at the advantage, this time.

The only real issue was that General Coelder wanted to make certain Anders could work with the numbers of men and animals promised by the others. He was careful in his words, since Prince Robarts had already claimed he could do it. Rather than act offended, or worse, as if he didn’t understand what the man needed from him, Anders simply nodded.

“I’ll firm the camp here, in the morning? If I don’t push too hard, it should be all right. That way you can get a sense for what can be done or not, before we go.”

That got a relieved sigh from the gray-haired man. His thin face looked pleasant, as well.

“Thank you, Master Brolly. I know it’s an inconvenience for you.”

It was, but he probably would have ended up doing the work anyway, just to keep himself from being too annoyed with the situation they were in.

After a bit, they were dismissed, with runners being sent to collect the needed men for the communications magic. Anders moved one tent over, but was out front, where they had a fire pit, when the six men he was supposed to get to know presented themselves. He’d assumed they were all going to be youthful, and probably of low rank. The men who could be ordered into doing magical things, who didn’t have any say in resisting such things.

Instead, the men, and two women, weren’t in uniform at all. Well, one of them was, being a cook. One that Anders recognized, from Sapphire Lake.

“Corporal Derry!”

The man lit up when he saw him there, clearly recognizing him.

“Master Brolly! I didn’t know we was getting you back in. Just that I was being put on a special message duty, using magic. I don’t, right told, know how to do that kind of thing. My mother has the gift and passed it along to me, but she never did much with it, so I never learned.” There was a look then, as if he might be in trouble for being less than perfectly trained in magic.

The others there looked a bit stiff about it as well.

“You won’t have to know how to do anything, really. I just need to learn who you are well enough that I can send words into your ears, at a distance. I have a trick for it. Now, I’ve worked with Corporal Derry before, but I don’t know the rest of you yet. I’m Anders Brolly. I mainly handle messages for the King, and run errands, right now. I’ve been learning to use magic for a bit. Mainly in the magician style, but also wizardry, from Master Tolan and some illusion, time permitting.”

One of the women there, who was a bit older, having some gray mixed with her brown hair and a lined face, made a slightly disgusted sound.

“You’re learning from Master Tolan, directly? He’s one of the finest wizards in the world... I guess that explains why we’ve been put under a young boy, then. That’s a bit of an insult, isn’t it? Not that I expect the High Wizard to come and see to us himself. Still, sending an apprentice isn’t really up to standards, is it?”

Anders bowed to the woman, using first courtly. She didn’t do it back or even nod, just seeming baffled at the move, instead.

“You aren’t under me at all. I’m here for a specific reason and will be gone in a few days, so that portion shouldn’t worry you. Are you all magic users?” It made some sense for that type to be put into play, he supposed. Even a cook made sense, given that they weren’t in as high risk of a position as some of the other soldiers might be. That way they wouldn’t die before passing messages as often. The same was probably true of the healers and other folk.

They all nodded, though one of the men, at the far end, looked red in the face.

“I work with the animals. Tending them and using a bit of healing to make sure they aren’t left sick or too worn. I don’t know that I’m the best man for such a job as this. Whatever it is. Hearing voices.”

He smiled then.

“You really won’t have to do much. I’m mainly here for General Coelder. If he can’t be reached for any reason, say if he’s distracted or gone from the camp, or dies in battle, then we’ll go with the rest of you to take messages or pass them to whoever ends up in command. Corporal Derry, first, then from there to each of you. I’ll go over what that’s like, with each of you. First, I need to learn about you though. So, let’s find a place to sit and do that? Tell me all about yourselves.” He was going to have to do a bit more work than it sounded like, but most of it would be memorizing the people with him. Driving who and what they were into his very soul.

They talked for hours, stopping only to make the late meal. The others had tasks to get back to, but clearly didn’t want to complain about being allowed to sit and chat for a while. Especially doing it in a place that wasn’t mainly mud. He stood and bowed to each of them, one at a time.

“I might need to meet with you more than this, but I’m not certain. Can you be free tomorrow, as well?”

There were reluctant nods then, as if they didn’t really want to be bothered with him, but they all agreed to come back and meet with Anders after the mid-meal. Not that his plans weren’t a bit different than that. After making a full meal and eating more than his share, he settled on his bedroll, sitting with his legs crossed under him, like he used to do in his first life, when learning how to memorize large works.

Moving into the halls of memory removed the sense of exhaustion and slight illness he’d been dealing with for the last week, and replaced it with a blissful calm. A nothingness that sang to him with familiarity. After no more than a moment or two, he walked to the hallway where he kept his magical learning, then down to the end, where there was an offshoot, that led him to what seemed like intensely real statues of people. His mother was there, near the front, next to Princess Aisla, who was the very first entry there. Depak Sona was near them, next to Master Tolan.

He moved down several places, to find an empty pedestal, where he placed a very good image of Corporal Derry. Then he tucked everything he knew about the man into that space, along with a new name for him, Derru. Then, once he drove that idea into his mind nearly a hundred times, and could feel that he had it, each of the others that he’d met that day were given the same treatment. He didn’t stop there, adding in Mary, from the trip, just in case he ever needed to contact her at a distance. He nearly added Betha, knowing her well enough for that kind of thing, then didn’t.

After all, one of the things he knew about her was her unease when it came to magic. She was a kind enough woman, most of the time, but she wasn’t one who would hear a voice in her head and assume that it was just a boy she’d met once, talking to her from a distance.

The hardest person to add for him was General Coelder. He’d spent some hours around the fellow, but the truth was that the man hadn’t exactly given over his life story or tried to form a friendly connection with Anders. That meant it took a lot longer for him to sink into Anders’ memory in a way that meant he could be contacted, later.

By the time he was finished with all the work, it was well and truly night out. Even the camp outside was quieter, if not truly silent. Instead of going directly to sleep, like many of the others in his tent had, he pulled himself up, got his bow, and did his daily exercises, even if he truly didn’t want to bother with it. Then, trying to be careful, he checked the world around him for attack or hostilities.

It was on that second one that he nearly lost his focus. There was no massive attack plotted, but thousands of people in the area were readying themselves for violence. Not against the enemy, either. Most of them were focused on other people on their own side. Petty grievance was the most common reason, but also suspected theft and too much teasing.

A few of the people were even a bit upset with him, as it turned out. He nearly didn’t want to look at those, since he feared that it would be one, or more of the knights or squires, or even the princes, having become annoyed with him.

Instead, when he risked looking, he found that it was only the people he’d learned of earlier in the day, who were mainly thinking that they truly had been put under the command of a little boy, even if he’d explained how that wasn’t true already. Corporal Derry wasn’t one of those, but General Coelder wasn’t truly happy with him.

He didn’t normally look at people’s thoughts, but this time he did, not knowing why the man might have any sort of trouble or problem with him, in particular. When he got the idea, he nearly nodded, however. The man wanted Anders to allow his forces to move and knew that the boy would be leaving in no more than a few days’ time.

On top of that, the General wasn’t totally certain that Anders could do what was claimed. So he wanted what was promised by the child being there, while also not knowing if it was real or not.

The man would learn, so Anders put that thought aside.

The simmering tension was hard to ignore, once he noticed it. It was, he thought, a response to the idea that sooner or later, the men and women there, would be going off to fight the enemy. While the General seemed eager to do that, almost no one else truly was. A few, perhaps, but those individuals didn’t feel right to him. They seemed half insane, when he bothered to look at them.

Perfect for war or battle, but not so much for anything else.

Sleep came easily to him, and he didn’t wake up, until someone rather cruelly shook him. For a long time. Cracking open a single eye, he half expected to find Erold doing the work of waking him, since the boy was the one person there he was close to. Instead it was Sir Clemence, the knight.

He frowned a bit, as the man backed up, holding a hand out, placating him.

“Easy there. You didn’t wake on your own and we didn’t know when you needed to see to your duties. It’s time for the first meal.” The man looked away then and grimaced a bit. “As it is. You’re a better cook than the military men that the General has doing it here, it seems. We get some gruel though and Sir Humphrey ordered an extra-large portion of it for you, so... Time to face the day?” The strained smile spoke of expecting a fight over being woken. That or the poor food that was on offering. Odds were it would be only bland though, not poor in quality otherwise.

They’d come in with food supplies, after all, so they wouldn’t be eating the last dregs of moldy supplies or anything. At least he hoped that was the case. If not, he still had some meat and other supplies gathered from the road, in the little cart. Enough to feed them all for a week or two, now that they weren’t sharing it with the entire caravan.

“Uhg.” He forced a grin then, so the man would understand he didn’t blame him for making certain he rose at a decent hour. Not that he was. There was light in the doorway of the heavy canvas structure, and from the sounds of it, everyone outside was well and truly awake for the day already. No one else was inside with him, though their gear was still laid out. Tidied though, which he did first thing as well, even before standing to go use whatever the facilities were there.

A hole in the ground, no doubt. It had to be done, but he wasn’t looking forward to the ordeal. The decently large knight moved back, letting him get to his feet, on seeing that he was taking care of things and not going back to sleep.

Glancing at the man, Anders shook his head a little.

“Thank you, Sir Clemence. I’ll get to things directly. I should have been up for a long while already. It was a bit of a late night.”

The man nodded at him, his face innocent seeming.

“Busily visiting your lady friends, in the rear camp?”

The man knew that wasn’t the case, and was, Anders had to figure, teasing him, for some reason. Probably because they were supposed to be friends, more or less. In that spirit, he nodded.

“Well, you know how it is. A man has needs and...” He yawned then and shook his head. “Sorry. I was actually trying to get the first part of my actual duties here done. I’ll test that today, after the mid-meal. Before then... I think I need to convince the General that I can actually do some magic.”

Those words got a solid nod from the man, who had taken the time to shave his lower face, leaving only a tidy mustache. That was a jet black in color, which contrasted nicely with his clean and smooth face. The fellow wasn’t old, having seen over twenty years, but not much more than that.

“I heard of that, from Sir Humphrey, last night, over the fire. That he suggested you rest for some time and the General desired to have the camp put to right, and freed of mud and muck. I was surprised that he didn’t have harsh words for Coelder, to be truthful. Not that I blame the man for wanting to see such a feat. This place is a pit, once you get off of the path you created yesterday.”

Anders, still feeling a bit puffy and slow from sleep, tidied himself, speaking the ten spells he used for that kind of thing. First his mouth was taken care of, what was there flying out the door of the place, then his skin and hair did the same, losing the grit and odor of the last day. Finally, he went over his other gear, so that it was all dry and rust free for the metal bits.

He did it each day, so it didn’t look like much more than him walking around and muttering at things. Sir Clemence stood there anyway. Watching him do it. As if it might be a show or amusement.

Which given where they were, might just be correct.

He used the jakes first, which required him to drive water from soil and to harden the area around the hole that was in use, just to stand without sinking ankle deep. He smoothed the ground first, which took energy to make happen. Enough that, after he emptied his bladder, he muttered a spell at his hands to cleanse them and turned to the knight, who had followed him.

That was a bit odd, really.

“I... I really won’t fall back to sleep, or run off to hide from the work. Even if I would rather be resting.” He blinked a few times as he spoke, the idea seeming almost foreign to him, even if Anders the boy had once had a reputation for the kind of thing.

There was a small smile from the knight then.

“Nothing like that. I have orders to make certain you’re cared for and not abused. We don’t want some soldier in rut to assume you’re here for his amusement, after all.” The man seemed to playing again, then sobered. “Especially given that they’d probably end up dead, if anyone tried that. No one would get that, looking at you though, so you get a keeper, even if you don’t strictly need one. The same with the princes, if that leaves you feeling any better about it.”

It didn’t, but Anders simply accepted the idea. He didn’t particularly want to be buggered if he had a choice in the matter. The idea that some might try such a thing with him had been presented, more than once, in several different situations. If being followed by a knight prevented that, he’d live with it.

“Ah. Well, that sounds boring, for you. I need to eat, then see if I can work out how water needs to flow, around the camp here.” It was a vast space, to simply harden all at once. The water needed to be drained off, and go someplace, or it would be a larger problem than doing nothing at all would have.

Sir Clemence waved him back toward the tents, to where a small folding table had been propped up. There was not only a bowl of the promised gruel, but it had a large clump of fat on the top, with some salt and a piece of hard bread in it. The man winced at it, but from the other bowls there, it was clear that the others there had eaten something similar for their own first meal.

He had the supplies to do better, but hadn’t been awake to see to it. Hanging his head a bit in shame for sleeping half the day, he stood there, on the packed and relatively dry earth around the tents and ate, using the bread to scoop the food into him. It would be filling, if nothing else.

When he finished, he cleaned the bowls and stopped to look around. There was a long hill, to the east, with the water running off to the south. The whole place was on a slope, which should mean that it was a lot drier than the bottom of the valley below would be. After a bit, probably seeming like he was nearly asleep on his feet, he closed his eyes and checked the whole situation using his wizard skills.

That was difficult, since he didn’t truly understand the nature of flowing water. Anders, the boy, was better with it than Farad, but neither of them were masters of the topic, by any means. Still, he worked out that water moved downward and would follow the easiest course it could. That meant, when he opened his eyes, he pointed at the space to the east and north.

“We need to build a hardened stream, for the water on the hill to follow. Right now, it’s just trickling through the soil, under the camp. I can order the soil to dry, but if we don’t fix that, it will be muck again in a week. This way?” He gestured, the other man simply nodding and walking with him. They matched in their clothing, which got some looks.

People would probably think he was the other man’s squire, given that. There with some special contingent, sent by the King himself. He realized, as he moved, that last bit was actually the case. He just hadn’t really been thinking of it that way, before that point.

As they moved, he made a solid path in front of them, since he didn’t really want to wade in the muck, if he didn’t have to. That meant he was out of breath, if only slightly, by the time they got to the top of the hill. The other man wasn’t, but there was no mocking him on the subject, even if it had to seem like he was too out of condition to make it up a simple hill without gasping and moaning about it. That wasn’t the case, of course. If he hadn’t been throwing magic around like a fool while he walked, he would have been fine.

There was a job to be done though, so, even if it wasn’t the best use of his personal energy that day, and he wasn’t certain that it wasn’t, given the state of the camp below, he started working, moving large sections of earth to form a gully, running from the top of the hill toward the bottom. Each ten pace area had to be gone over five times, on the top section, along the eastern portion of the camp. That made a line that was about ten feet deep and about that wide.

After ten iterations of this he stopped, and just stood there, breathing hard for a while. There was much more to do, but he talked about the plan, as a way to buy time for himself to recover a bit.

“This, first bit, is the hard part.” Dreading it already he went on then, moving vast amounts of earth, over and over again. Then hardening it and walking on. It took hours to have something that resembled a stream that was already collecting water from up the hill, and sending it around the edge of the camp, down into the valley to the south. By the time he was finished, he was moving water and dirt, in order to shape things along the correct path.

Then he just stood there for a while, attempting not to black out on his feet. It was bad enough that Sir Clemence moved in and took his right arm above the elbow, meaning he was probably swaying in a visible fashion. The man didn’t suggest he stop though, when he started working again. The rest of the effort wasn’t a lot simpler, at first. Not until he realized that he only needed to really hit the main walk ways and side paths. The areas under the tents had been kept a bit drier, so they weren’t sinking as badly and the soil hadn’t been churned into a batter like sludge.

Which meant, by mid-meal, he was back at his own camp, eating out of the supplies that he’d brought, having some hard bread, cheese and meat, with greens on it, so he wouldn’t end up all bound up. He ate a lot of it, his belly swelling uncomfortably by the time that everyone from the day before got there to meet with him. He was less than comfortable and felt fat from the excess, even as his arms and legs fairly swam in the clothing he had on.

General Coelder came out of his tent and looked out at the road in front of them, and gestured. That came with an interested and somewhat pleasant expression from the man, at least.

“Walk with me, please.” That was for the others there, the magic users and the cook, though he ended up with Anders and Sir Clemence as well, since it was clear that the goal was to examine the work that had been done.

The man stomped on the ground a bit, and kicked at the now smooth path.

“This feels good, Master Brolly. Like we could march men on it all day long. There’s a line on the ridge up there... Is that your work?”

He nodded, feeling too tired to really answer a lot of unneeded questions. He answered anyway, since the other man was in charge there. At least he started to do that, when Sir Clemence nodded and pointed in that direction.

“A gully was formed, to draw the water from the hill off and around us. It’s ten feet deep on that upper portion, which is impressive to look on. Then, once that was done, protecting us from the water from that elevation, the main roads and paths of the camp were dried and made into what you see here, instead of the slop it was. In all, that took him four hours. A lot of work, too. I don’t know that he could have done it much faster. He nearly went down a few times, to get this done.” There was a dark coldness to the man’s voice, as if he hated the military man for making Anders do it.

A thing that the General noticed, then seemed to soundly ignore.

“Just making a path dry and hard enough to walk on will be easier, correct? Can you do this again tomorrow, do you think?”

Several of the formerly quiet people with them, who were wisely standing back, gasped then. The older woman, Clary Senek, actually stared at the General, like he was a true idiot.

When she spoke, her voice was annoyed, instead of pleasant or calm. That, being bothered by things, seemed a common enough state for her.

“This is the work of a true master. Not one in a hundred with the ability to do this actually could have managed it once, much less every day like you seem to be suggesting. Master Brolly is a strong man, clearly, but the good sort, who is using only his own powers to get things done. He’ll need to rest.”

Rather than snap at the woman, and asking her to know her place, he nodded.

“I understand, Wizard Senek. Unfortunately, we only have Master Brolly’s skills for a limited time. We could plan the attack for two days, if you were to rest for that time?” He poised himself in a fashion that clearly expected some yelling to be going on, but Anders thought about it and then nodded.

“If we keep the path narrow, say five paces across, and plan things out first, we should be able to make that work. I need to eat more. Not that I can at the moment.” He was uncomfortably full, though he didn’t get to announce that to the people there.

Instead he closed his eyes.

“I need to test my connection to each of you, which I can do all at one time, I think. I also added Mary, from the caravan, to the list of people I can get in touch with.” He looked at the General, figuring that Sir Clemence was about to mock him over that one, even if it was only due to the woman having been around like she had been. “She’s one of the whores that came in with us. Also a good cook and helper that way. We can use her to pass messages to the people there, without sending a man riding out every time you want to do that.” It was more work for him, in potential, but probably wouldn’t come up all that often.

The older man simply smiled.

“That sounds wonderful! You can do all of this from the castle? We... Really, you should stay, for the winter. I’ll have a letter sent off to the King, begging for that. This work you did today... It’s simply amazing.”

Even Anders felt that it had turned out nicely enough. None of the soldiers passing seemed to have noticed it yet, at least not to mention in his presence, but he was right by the General, so that might not be happening any time soon. Instead, he stood there, crafted a simple one-line communication, and sent it to every name he knew, all at once. It meant that both Mary and his mother, Lyse, were getting the same thing, as well as Princess Aisla, and Prince Alpert. Master Belford as well as Captain Ford, since they might need to be communicated with at times. Prince Erold was left off, for the time being, in case he was taken prisoner, since that idea had been mentioned by the King. Some of them were people he’d never connected with before that way. It would, no doubt, be a shock to them.

Corporal Derry looked surprised, then spoke.

“Crud! I hear a voice. It’s um, saying that Anders Brolly is talking to me, in my head and that this is a test of the magical communications system, not me going insane. It’s starting again... How long does it do that for? It could get old, hearing voices talk to me like that. It doesn’t really sound like you, neither.” He seemed a bit suspicious on that score, as if someone else might have placed a message in his ears like that.

Nodding, he explained.

“That’s what I sound like, inside my mind. That one will go five times, giving you time to write it down or report the message. Most of the time it won’t go out to everyone all at once. I’ll try to send something to everyone, at least a few times per year, to make certain the system is still in play. I should have you all in it now. Some others, too. I need to check on them, since a few of them probably won’t be too pleased with being included like this.”

To that end, he shut his eyes and dropped into a deep trance. Everyone had gotten the message, with only Mary not being certain what it meant. That Anders, her little friend, had spoken to her, using magic, but not what, if anything, she was supposed to do with it. He had to compose a second message spell, and muttered it out loud. Then he opened his eyes, to see everyone standing there, watching him. As if he might be interesting.

“Oh. Sorry, Mary was a bit worked up, so I just told her that it was fine and she might get some messages that way, in the future. Everyone else understood, well enough.” Lady Lyse, rather embarrassingly, was entertaining someone, a woman who seemed familiar to Anders, in a bedroom fashion at the time she’d heard it, which had made doing what was needed harder for her, but she’d understood the basic idea well enough.

General Coelder tightened then.

“Are you off to the next camp then, so soon?”

Anders shook his head.

“No. We have that action to plan out, first. Probably just the one, then I’ll need to go and see to my primary task, since I have orders from the King himself to that end. Still, we get a few days, which won’t be missed from the schedule. Really, we probably have a week or two, if it’s needful.”

Those words got the General to smile, like he was a wolf about to eat the whole flock of chickens.

“Really? Very good then, Master Brolly. Stand ready. Rest first though. You need food? Drink? We could call for that woman for you, I’m certain.” The strange thing was that the fellow wasn’t playing in the offer, for any of it.

Sir Clemence snorted though, hiding a laugh. That was mainly in response to the face that Wizard Senek was making. When she spoke, it wasn’t to scold the man about arranging intimate company for an obvious child.

“Wizards, and other mages of note, seldom drink anything stronger than tea. That food then... As for women... Perhaps I shouldn’t give my opinion on that?” Her expression was dry and seemed a bit bitter, for some reason.

Corporal Derry waved at the woman, seeming pleasant enough about it. Really, he seemed to be teasing her, ever so slightly, about the way she was reacting.

“Don’t stop him from having a bit of fun now, mother. Still, I don’t know as to how that kind of carrying on would be resting, proper like. Get him a chair and some music, mayhap?” Then the man gulped, realizing he’d just suggested that in front of the General. A man who, most days, he didn’t properly have a reason to speak about, much less to.

The man simply nodded.

“Very good, Corporal. We’ll see about that. We have two of the Princes in as well, so putting on some kind of entertainment seems correct. We also have some planning to do, which you may be of aid with, Master Brolly. It hinges on your abilities, so it makes sense to have your input. Yes. We’ll do that. If you would arrange for that entertainment, Corporal? Perhaps... Mary was it? Perhaps she could carry a message to the camp master, asking after such for us? Or... that’s using magic.”

Wizard Senek made an exasperated noise then.

“It is, but that’s not going to cripple the boy, energy wise. Wizard arts and such don’t at least. How is that message passing for you?” She half glared, as if expecting him to insist on being called Master, instead of boy. Part of him secretly wanted to. The rest didn’t care much about that at all.

“It’s not bad, to be honest. It would wear on me, if I had to pass a hundred messages per day that way, but half a dozen is fine, even while I mainly rest.” That was true. He was also going to use his fire starting and cleaning skills, if the need arose. None of those were easy, but they weren’t digging ten-foot-deep trenches, or even keeping a dozen people alive at one time, either.

Of course, asking Mary to deliver the magical message from General Coelder to the camp commander on the other side was different than simply suggesting that a message might be coming to her occasionally. He did it anyway, then checked on the woman again, finding her reluctant to do the work, but finally giving in, since it seemed official enough.

The man in charge of the rear camp, a sergeant that had seen action in the last three wars, if they included the current one, didn’t really believe Mary, when he was approached. He was polite about it however and allowed that he could find someone that might put on a small show, if not one fit for the Heir and his brother. Then, they were at the front. Having any entertainment except fighting was a rare treat, at the best of times. History had spoken of that, over and again.

Chapter eleven

Part of Anders felt sorry for the Yansians who were arrayed across the wide-open field from his position. They looked tired, even from hundreds of paces away. He couldn’t make out faces, but the men and in some cases women, in armor were covered in mud and filth. Their camp was behind them and it was certainly no better off than the one the Istlans had come from that morning, if Anders hadn’t done that bit of work to fix it. On the whole, the dampness was still a problem, but the men who had bothered to bathe in the last days looked to be in clothing, not a covering of dark brown muck.

The yellow of Yanse was currently a tan color, with only bits of red and silver showing through.

They also were outnumbered, a little over two to one. Worse for them, even if they didn’t know it yet, the field in front of them was a mud pit, on their side. All of the water from where his army was standing had been placed just in front of where the soldiers of Yanse were at the moment. They were about to be forced to walk into it as well. Probably with the horse being followed by charging foot. They had enough bowmen ready to fight, but their bows weren’t as powerful as the Istlan war bow in general.

Not that Anders would have been able to hit anyone where they were at the moment, even if he was using a bow that was better for the job. It simply took longer, about three or four years, for an Istlan archer to gain enough strength to send into battle. He was both young and small, as well as only a few months, about four, into his training that way.

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t standing by, with his bow strung, a spear in his hand and a long knife by his side. He was also at the back of the army, on a low hill, looking over the arrayed forces. General Coelder had requested he do that, instead of bothering to go and stand with the levies, even if they were mainly archers. His task was to make certain they could leave, if something went wrong. That or use magic, if the opportunity arose in a safe fashion.

He wasn’t going to complain about people wanting him to be safe, so had simply nodded and followed instructions. That meant he was treated to a very different type of situation than he’d been in the last time fighting had broken out. Instead of standing alone, in front of a hundred advancing fighters armed with bows similar in range to his own, this time he was listening to real tacticians make plans.

“Captain, we need forces on the left. They almost have to try and come at us through the trees there. I don’t want to leave the levies alone on that side, either. It’s too obvious they aren’t professional soldiers.” The man was correct on that score. Most of the archers had cobbled together armor and were in tan clothing that seemed better suited to working in a field than fighting. They also danced around uneasily, looking half ready to run already.

Even if the Yanse forces were still lining up and trying to work out how they were supposed to fight the battle in front of them. Anders knew what they should do, of course. Withdraw. It was an obvious trap, set by a superior force. One that they wouldn’t beat even one time out of ten, even if they were the ones with the superior position. The problem was twofold, of course. The first being that they couldn’t tell from where they were that the other side was standing on firm ground and knew not to move into the soup in the middle of the field. The other was that soldiers too often confused stupidity with courage.

Prince Erold, who was in full armor, if with his helm off, sidled up to Anders, on his war horse. The look he gave was a bit wistful, as he looked out at the field.

“I should be in the charge down there, not sitting in safety, up on a hill like this. I didn’t come to look like a coward.” The command staff heard him and several of the men were clearly insulted by the words. As if staying back to lead was the same as simply being safe while others were at risk, which was what the Prince clearly meant.

The wise words of Depak Sona came to him then. About how it was a poor plan to keep anyone too safe in life. People, especially men, needed to face dangers and risks, if they were to become good people who were worth having at the table.

So he nodded.

“They don’t need you in the charge. Really, that charge isn’t going to be coming at all. The horse down there are for show, unless anyone makes it across the field there. What we need right now is for someone to go and make certain the levies on the forest side stand fast. Sending a Prince in might get them to do that?” He didn’t know and was actually asking that as a question. One of the Majors stared at Anders, then, after a long moment, nodded.

“There’s a real point in that. I know that I wouldn’t let my courage fold if a young boy was standing fast beside me like that. We should send both of you, given that. What do you say, General?” The older man was clearly a bit distracted, but after a repeat of the question took a very deep breath.

“That could work. Master Brolly, we need you to stand ready, in case we have to leave. Both of you stay back and out of too much danger. Give a rousing speech or something? It will be a bit before the other side is ready to move. We need to encourage them, using the war bow. We can’t do that if they all run away.”

Erold nodded, as if it were a serious task and not something to merely keep him and possibly Anders, out of the way. To that end, they rode down the hill, going slowly, until they reached the Captain who was in charge of the bedraggled levies. He looked annoyed and tired already.

“What? I didn’t hear any orders called yet.” He seemed to think they were there to chastise him for some reason. Probably for his men being a bit raw and unused to battle.

Anders waved at the boy next to him.

“The General asked Prince Erold to give the men a pretty speech, to help their courage. I think the idea is to shame them to holding their ground, at least until the little boys run away from the danger?” He patted his own chest then, which got the Captain to shake his head.

“Do it, then. We’re already about to lose this lot. They aren’t all cowards, but if a few men start to run, all of them will.” He closed his eyes then. “Now, one of you is a Prince? I heard we had a couple of those around, this time. Which one of you is that, so I know who to blame when I’m hanged later for being so disrespectful.”

Anders laughed a bit, not meaning it.

“This other one. So if you have to yell at one of us, clearly do that toward me. I’m no one important, so there won’t be any trouble over it.”

The man, rather nervously, nodded. No bow came, since no one sane would mark another on a battlefield by doing that toward them.

“Got it. I’m Captain Rigley. We have the Prince and...”

Erold spoke then, finally, looking grim.

“This is Master Anders Brolly. It was his magic that let us walk here today.”

That got a snort. It seemed nearly pleased.

“Wait, we’re being backed by an actual mage, for once? That... I’d claim it’s rare, but the levies have never had that before. Not even standing next to us, cheering a bit to improve the mood. Let me announce you both. That should sooth some nerves. If they don’t run from the two of you, I mean.”

The man rode forward, his horse smaller than either Brownie or the gray that the Prince was on. When he called out, his voice held good cheer. It was forced, but the nervous men only half turned around to listen to him. Their main focus was, appropriately, toward where the enemies were. They had heavy horse on their side, with men who were probably knights, in full plate, with long shields, mounted and ready to charge at the rather humble seeming bowmen. The military bow, lined up in the middle, were more impressive seeming, but that wouldn’t really slow a knight, too much.

The thing there was that heavy horse wouldn’t go down easily to something like simple arrows. Even heavy foot soldiers were possible to take with bow, with luck, skill or poor armor on the targets part, where the hard-armored men in front of them probably wouldn’t be at all.

“Listen up! General Coelder heard a few of you were feeling a bit prickly, being new and all, so he sent over Prince Erold to cheer you up! I want to hear a cheer for him!”

It was a bit weak, at first, but the men did it, calling out loudly by the third time they did it.

“Huzah!” It was picked up by the other men on their side, even if they couldn’t possibly understand why there was cheering going on already. Anders did it as well, since it made him feel better, too.

When they quieted down, the Prince was waved at. Erold rode forward a bit and shouted, his voice deeper than it normally was by a good bit.

“Do not give in to fear this day! The poor men across from us will shake seeing us here, the mighty war bow of Istlan! More than that, the King and General Coelder have seen fit to have Master Brolly, the mighty war mage, come to stand with you! Keep that in mind and remember, no one here runs away, until the little boy does!” He waved at Anders then, as if to illustrate that he, the youngest Prince, didn’t count for that.

Holding up his hand, he waved to the men there, who probably didn’t get that the supposed great mage was the boy they were laughing at. The jovial tone carried and some of the soldiers, the real ones, to the right, pointed at the bowmen.

One called out loudly to them.

“You heard the Prince. Hold fast, until the tiny child flees. No one will break before then!”

The voice was familiar, being Sergeant Bennet. Anders waved in his direction then, since the soldier hadn’t indicated who the boy they were mocking was.

Rather than whine about the lack of respect he was getting that day, Anders called out, chanting.

“Ist-lan. Ist-lan!” That was picked up by the entire army on their side, to the discordant jeers on the other side.

After a while, nearly two hours, in which they mainly stood around, nervously, the other side tried a few chants of their own. They were in Yansian, so almost no one on their side understood what was being said about the easy virtue of their mothers and daughters. Really it was a bit rude of them, but the men on the other side had to know that many of them were about to die that day. If they didn’t, then they were fools.

Finally, a call came down the line.

“Bow at the ready!”

Anders got his own around, even if he wasn’t going to be firing at anyone just yet. Being armed when the fighting started was simply a good plan. Erold got his lance ready, even if that would be of little more aid to them than Anders weak arrows. At least as long as the enemy was out of reach.

The men shifted, getting ready to finally fight.

The Captain bellowed then.

“Arrow at the ready! Prepare for continuous volleys!”

The men at the head of the line stuck arrows into the ground then, ready to grab them up to shoot. It was faster than getting such things out of a canvas sack, after all. Anders did the same, but only for three arrows. He had twenty with him, which wasn’t nearly enough, if he were fighting at all.

After a bit, repeating the call that went out for all of the army, the order was given. The one that started the combat that day.

“Set and fire!”

The men did it, pushing out arrow after arrow for nearly a minute. Then another call came, as the enemy hid under their shields, if they had them. The Yanse forces tried to return fire, but were a good hundred paces short of the front line. It was then, as they failed to affect anything at all, that something interesting and unexpected happened.

A black cloud came up, out of the ground, swirling and ominous, with a thunderous noise coming at them, which he had to admit was terrifying to behold. Then a creature, a vast thing with a thousand teeth, blood stained horns, two arms and two legs, which ended in cloven hooves, stepped onto the grass covered mud. It stood there, not marking the soil at all, when it should have sunk at least several feet deep, given its obvious weight. It was odd enough that he closed his eyes and checked on what was really there. The answer was, of course, nothing much at all.

He snorted and called out, as loud as he could.

“They seek to trick us! That’s a mere seeming, nothing more. Well done, true, but it can no more harm you than sunlight could!” Then, thinking, he grinned at the Captain. The man stared back at him, as if the tiny person next to him had lost his mind at the sight of the incredible and fearsome monster in front of them.

“Let’s start a new chant? Here...” He stopped, then bellowed loudly enough that his throat felt suddenly raw and abused.

“Ba-ru-da! Ba-ru-da!” No one else did it, naturally, until Erold started and then the Captain. After that, even if they didn’t know what they were saying, it carried to the whole army. After a minute of this, the beast vanished, to the cheers of the men on their side.

Erold leaned in to him, his voice was soft, and slightly awed sounding.

“A spell of banishment?”

Tilting his head from side to side, he rolled his eyes a bit.

“Um... not really. We all just stood there, yelling illusion at them. Their illusionist is clearly rather accomplished, but it was simply that. Now... We should answer them, I think. That’s up to the General though, of course.”

They replied to the magic being used against them, with a hail of arrows. Another one. That was, when it ended, enough to get the Yansies to finally attempt a charge. The problem there was that they only sent half their forces in, before they realized the trap in the center of the battlefield. Men and even horses, were suddenly trying to fight through knee deep and then hip deep muck. Water flowed around them, leaving them trapped in short order. With about half the men and women behind them cleverly stopping before they were stuck as well.

After that, the Yanse side had sudden and horrible losses for about a quarter of an hour. Probably in desperation, the illusionist bravely made it seem as if fire were raining down from the sky above them all. Most of the men on their side pulled back in fear. Anders actually got off his horse, tied her to a handy stump and then walked off, toward the front line. Heading out onto the firm ground ahead of the bowmen on his own side. Then he yelled.

“More illusion! Well, we can answer them, in kind and more!”

He took a moment or two to create the spell he wanted, but when he loosed the arrow that was carrying it, almost no one was paying attention to him. Which was a shame, since his little speech was decent. He thought so at least.

The world exploded, near the back of the field on the other side. The troops had moved forward by two hundred paces, meaning his arrows could just reach the men who weren’t trapped in the mud. He aimed toward the line in the center, since the riders on his side were still too far away. When the smoke cleared, it seemed that at least half the men in the center, easily over a thousand of them, were down. Some of them stirred a bit, so they weren’t dead. Not yet.

Anders would have felt poorly for them, but his own legs buckled, the size and power of the spell having been too much for him. Only for a moment, thankfully. He caught himself before going all the way to the ground. He couldn’t see for a moment, the blood rushing from his head as it was. He gasped, but hid it, as well as he could.

When he could, he pulled back, walking into the line of bowmen.

“We have magic, too.” He whispered the words, but they were repeated. Then chanted for a bit, as if anyone there had missed what had just taken place.

The rest of the battle was far more standard, after that. The illusionist on the other side either couldn’t or didn’t bother to put out any more of his, or her, tricks. The soldiers, including many knights, were trapped and almost unable to move. Half their line finally broke and fled, with low casualties on the Istlan side of things. They lost some fighters, mainly due to the desperate thrashing around of the men stuck in the mud. They were still soldiers and knights, so even pinned in place, they fought to the end. Many of them did, at any rate. Those in good armor were taken alive.

The less wealthy weren’t nearly so lucky.

Farad wondered if the plan would be to kill them all, since they didn’t have any ability to hold them that he knew of, but orders came down for them to take prisoners. At least after the remaining men on the enemy side who could escape actually did, when they realized they weren’t surviving the day. Not if real fighting started.

Captain Rigley called out, repeating his orders.

“Take prisoners for ransom! Any man collecting an enemy gets ten percent of the purse!”

That meant the center of the line moved forward eagerly, with the left being reticent to approach the men stuck in the mud. They were a bit further away, and not armored well enough to face even trapped men with plate or even heavier mail and braces.

The levies didn’t seem happy with that, but they also didn’t think they wanted to die, trying to get in on the extra funds that prisoners might bring.

Anders grinned then.

“All right, follow me! Stay ready and pay attention to where you step.” Then, with bow in hand, Anders called out. In Yansian.

That got a lot more attention from the trapped people than anything had since the explosion.

“Any man surrendering peacefully to the war bow will be treated well, fed and given a warm place to sleep, before being ransomed back to your own people! Anyone taken by the foot will be beaten, stripped naked and handled roughly. If you want our protection, come this way, without any weapons on you.”

That last bit was hard to sell, since no one wanted to throw a good tool away and some of the men complained about family heirlooms. Anders shrugged, since better than half of the men, the ones that could move at all, seemed to be indicating that they much preferred the warm and gentle treatment of the war bow, since the foot honestly was busily beating men half to death, even if they were trapped in place and unable to truly resist.

He walked onto the field, firming the earth below him with magic, allowing the levies to move forward behind him. Making a strip in front of some of the enemy, he called out.

“Place your weapons in front of you. The ground will hold them on the smoothed places. If you give your word not to use them again against Istlan in any future battle, we’ll send them back with you so that your children might have them, if war comes again.”

That statement led to a conversation, but after ten minutes, the levies were pulling the armored men from the mud. Some of them tried to fight, of course. Anders simply pushed them down. From a distance.

“Lod homme fen!”

Realizing that magic was in play got most of them to calm down. The ones who didn’t were left to the foot. They still collected a bit more than half of the well armored people in the field, which cheered the levies, and their Captain, greatly.

“So, all the percentage goes to you, Master Brolly? Except for my portion, as the commander of the levies, of course.” He seemed a bit dry on the words, but smiled when Anders did.

“Not at all. That ten percent will go to each of the levies, evenly. We promised these men good care, however, so keep that in mind. We keep our word. Food, a warm place to sleep and quick processing of those ransoms, if possible.” He didn’t know how that was to be done at all, of course. “Also, we should see to the ones that don’t have anyone to pay for them. I don’t know how to handle that, but most of these men came peacefully, trusting in us to guard them, as we can.”

He sounded pretentious and probably foolish, but Prince Erold laughed then, and called out in the Yansian language. Poorly, but clearly enough that he was understood by the several hundred men, still in armor, that stood in front of them.

“You, good and strong men of Yanse. Fear not! Master Brolly and the war bow are standing for you. Be peaceful and none shall do you harm, past the battle of the day. You have my word on this!”

One of the men, a bearded fellow who was mainly made of mud, from what could be seen, called back.

“Fine words, boy. Who are you then, to promise anything to such as we?”

He stood up in the saddle, using his stirrups. His plate armor gleamed, impressively. Anders had helped him clean it before they’d left.

“I am Prince Erold, of Istlan. Your captor, and if you are wise, your new friend. Who are you, good sir?”

The man, seeming tired to the point of nearly falling down after hours of struggling in the mud, being beaten and wounded in places, bowed his head.

“Count Legis Nordman. These others are my knights and men at arms, with some few others. I can but beg for your mercy, even if the very ground betrayed us this day. Your mighty mage did this?” He pointed at the pool of mud and water, which still held many men. After all, even the foot couldn’t walk to them to pull them out. Not without aid from Anders.

Erold bowed to the man.

“Well met, if not under the best circumstances, Count Nordman. I have heard of you, in the past. I believe that Princess Peri is related to you? As to your question, yes. Master Brolly had a part in the day’s events. He had orders to do this and no choice in the matter, before you hate him too much for it.”

Anders winced, since there were many deaths to be laid at his feet that day. Hundreds of them, so far. Those were just the ones that he’d taken from the world himself, with a single arrow and a spell that was foolishly large. Hopefully the ground hadn’t turned to water behind them, and he wouldn’t have to redo the mornings efforts.

“Not that I wouldn’t understand such feelings. Anyway, we need to take your armor. Not the clothing underneath, however. If you have any hidden weapons, please tell us about them now. We need to log everything, so you don’t lose it all.” He spoke in the tongue of the men there, who didn’t seem happy about the topic at hand. They were willing enough to give their names and explain which weapons and armor belonged to them. He had to memorize all of the information, linking the faces to the names and what they had with them, but no one asked if they were going to really have everything returned. Probably because they simply assumed that it wouldn’t be happening.

All of the men had warm enough clothing on under their armor, and Anders was able to cross the battlefield, making the ground firm, and steal three wagons that the other side had left behind. That and some animals that were left wandering, allowed them to pack the things away with the prisoners. At least after Anders walked out into the battlefield, to where the remaining men where sinking to their slow and miserable deaths.

He was breathing hard when he got there, since he was using magic constantly to keep himself from sinking as well. No one else had managed to get close to the remaining men. Half of them were dead, under the mud, with only an arm or the top of their heads sticking out.

“Um, hello? I can, possibly, use magic to free you, if you wish. Please let me know if that works for you. Here, proof first.” He was being conversational, and had to use a complex spell to pull the dead, one by one, from their damp graves. They were laid on top of the earth, next to each other. When he was halfway finished, one of the men, who sounded very youthful, called out.

“Save me, please, good sir!” There was a pained sound.

Anders didn’t hesitate, lifting the boy from the ground. He had good armor on, though, when he, rather desperately, pulled his helmet off, it was clear that the man was a rather homely woman. Powerfully built, for one of those. She hung her head.

“So, I’m a prisoner. I suppose I’m off to be raped now?” She grimaced at the words, since it was clearly her expectation, but went blank when Anders shook his head.

“Not if you surrender to the war bow. We’ll keep you and any other women with you out here away from those who might harm you, as best we might. How we do that, I don’t know, but I promise it will be done.” That might be a thing he wasn’t allowed to even suggest, but he didn’t want her to feel too threatened.

She managed to stand, if slowly, and bowed. It was humble seeming, with her hands on her armored thighs.

“You have my parole, then, sir. I promise not to attack or fight, unless forced to. I also won’t escape.”

He nodded, not truly understanding the custom that she was obviously following.

“Good. Please stay by me then. Does anyone else agree to that parole bargain? If so, call out, before you finish sinking. I don’t want to make light of it, but drowning in mud sounds like a worse option, compared to that.”

Many did. A lot of them. Between times, raising men and in a few cases, women, he recovered the bodies of the dead, which were being stripped by others from the levies. Probably thinking that they would get a share of the loot, if they helped with the work. Which, he had to allow, was probably true. It would take too long, otherwise, so he needed the help.

In the end, they had to find another cart and pull men to drive them, since the General wanted them all back at the camp before nightfall. Anders could see that, but needed to ride at the front of the line, in case he had to see to fixing the road they were on.

He took a deep breath and waved to Sir Humphrey and Prince Robarts. They’d both been in the thick of things, that day. The Knight actually smiled at him.

“I heard you took a few prisoners, Master Brolly. Hundreds of them, in fact. What do you intend for them?”

He shrugged, then waved behind him and spoke loudly.

“Some have given their parole, and some are women, who need our protection as part of their surrender agreement. No one will rape or coerce them unkindly. I gave my word on that, to act to prevent such to the best of my ability. The others the war bow took need food and good warm sleeping conditions. I’ll...” He stopped, not wanting to make more work for himself, but went on. “I’ll get more food, on the way back, if I can. I have no clue how to get this all done.”

Sir Humphrey turned away, covering a smile with his left hand. The move made his armor clank when he did it. His voice was filled with mirth when he spoke, as well.

“That will serve. Get them food and see to their comforts. On the good side, we’re close to Yanse, so those who can be ransomed, will be, shortly. Those who cannot be...”

Shaking his head, Anders knew that the normal thing to do would be to kill them.

“Then... We take their armor and weapons and set them free. A man, or woman, without that will be less of a threat to us, for a good while.” He waited to be told he was a fool.

Prince Robarts did that, if in a slightly more tolerant fashion than he would have expected.

“We can’t do that, Anders... Not directly. We’ll have to think of something else, if you don’t want them killed. I can see it though. These are not people without honor, in the main. Any might fall to a clever tactic or trick. We need to show mercy, if it’s possible, so that we might have it for our people, when the time comes.”

That was a thing he simply agreed with.

Interestingly enough, General Coelder found him at the head of the line, the prisoners taken by the levies directly behind him, as he rode. If the man was worried about attack from the prisoners, who walked with bound hands, it didn’t show at all on his face.

“Master Brolly. I couldn’t help but notice that you participated today a bit more than orders allowed for.” There was no real anger in the words, but he winced on Brownies back, as if the other man might cuff him in the back of the head for his actions.

“Ah... I did. Forgive me, please.” He didn’t bow, since they were still on the battle field, or close enough that doing that would be seen as trying to get the other man shot with an arrow, in the back. A thing that the General knew, so no offense seemed to be taken. Not over that.

Instead Anders got a lecture. One that was, he feared, well deserved. That part was strange to notice, since the boy inside felt that way, too. He’d been given a specific task and had gone far outside of it. What he’d done at the end, collecting prisoners, well, he expected to be beaten over it, now that the idea of what he’d actually done crossed his mind.

The older man simply looked disappointed in him. Calmly, which wasn’t the yelling and screaming he expected over his actions.

“It isn’t that I want to crush your spirit, Master Brolly. Never that. It’s simply that we had a plan in place, which you... I won’t say you ignored it, but you acted outside of it in a way that could have endangered everyone else here, if a retreat was needed. Truly, I understand the call to action that battle brings. No man that is career military goes long without feeling that urge. When the enemy brought magic into play, you probably felt as if it was your job to protect us from it, being a combat mage as you are.” The man tightened his face then, looking away as he did it. Hiding what he was truly feeling.

“Again, I understand the impulse there. Indeed, when you led our men in that chant, breaking that spell, I admit I felt a chill. A positive one. They acted in desperation, doing that, but it was a thing that might have balanced the table. I’ve seen similar things do that, several times in my career. When you killed those men however... That had to have taken most of your personal power. Worse, we already exhausted you, on the trip over. After all that happened out there today, can you honestly tell me that you have the strength left to get us back to the camp, through the mud, if we must take a different route home?” The man looked at him then, expecting an answer.

Hanging his head, Anders had to shake it. It was the simple truth.

“Not after retrieving those men and women from the sink out there. With a rest, perhaps, or if we go quickly, but...” He took a deep, shuddering breath. A thing that Brownie seemed to feel as well. She danced a bit, in place.

“Precisely, Master Brolly. We went to this battle with the upper hand, magics and planning in place. What if the enemy had been cleverer than we, however? What if you’d been overmatched in magic, out there on the field? You marked yourself with that arrow. Again, I don’t wish to prevent you from taking needed actions, but you must, must, learn to follow orders out here. To that end, I’m going to order you to see to the care of these prisoners. That will take greater action than would ordinarily take place, since you only have a few weeks in this portion of the kingdom.” The General frowned then, his face sour.

As if he were telling Anders to do something he wasn’t already planning on. That wasn’t the point, of course. It was a lesson in doing what he was told. In accepting that other people would have more experience than he did, in many areas of life. That was a simple truth. Even with the memories of an old man in his mind, nothing that Farad had encountered in his life had readied him for war.

Anders made a face as well, feeling a tear come to his eyes. The other man didn’t mock him over it.

“I understand and it will be done. I... Truly did the wrong thing.” He felt like he was going to bawl for a moment, like a small child.

The General reached over and slapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s the real problem here, Master Brolly. A good portion of the reason we won today was due to your actions. That makes it almost impossible to understand that you truly did do the incorrect thing. If you were an adult, instead of a younger man, you’d probably have earned a knighthood or a title out there today. Instead you must be given hard tasks and punishments, for doing what almost anyone in the world would have asked of you, if they knew to do it. They will, in the future. When that happens, you must do your duty, no matter how hard it is. For now, though, what plans do you have for your prisoners?”

He took a moment, simply riding, trying to work out what would be needed. Getting word to their people, so that ransoms could be paid, of course. How he was supposed to manage that, he wasn’t certain. First though they would have other needs.

“I need to see to their feeding and housing. I...” He grimaced, since he had a plan as to how to do that last bit, but it was going to be at least as difficult as making the culvert had been. Still, they didn’t have tents for everyone and needed to make at least some pretense at holding the people prisoner. That meant something stronger than canvas, at the very least. “I might be able to make a jail of sorts, out of compacted earth, especially if there’s any clay in the area. I can feed them tonight out of the supplies I have with me, then... Well, everyone told me that there will be no hunting or good gathering in the area the military is in. I’ll have to go and find something. In the morning, though. I don’t know how to get a message to anyone in Yanse. That...” He felt slow, but nothing came to mind at all. “You know, I could let a few of them go, with letters to deliver for the others. Some of them don’t have anyone to pay for them anyway. They’ll be honor bound to make the deliveries and then we won’t have to kill them for being caught.”

The old military man laughed, gently. Loud enough for some of the prisoners to hear, at the very least. Then, they had to be hearing what Anders said as well. They weren’t that far back. Some of them were moaning in pain, but most of those, the worst, were back in line, by the foot, who had taken them captive. They really had beaten and stripped them. There were a few women with them as well, who he didn’t think had been raped yet, but who probably wouldn’t make it through the night, unmolested. Part of him didn’t want that to happen at all, while the other knew that doing anything to stop it would probably end up with some of the soldiers refusing to work with him later. That could be a problem, but he wasn’t certain if he could address it, from any angle.

The General nodded.

“You know, that might well work. I’ll leave that to you. Use magic to make certain they are telling you the truth, however. Some men will say anything to save their own lives, or a bit of coin. Most will, when there is great risk of harm. We can, perhaps, allow a minor mercy. We cannot allow our enemies to see kindness in us as weakness, lest they use it against us, later.”

The man rode next to him, for the entire slow trip back to the camp. There were a few places that had to be dried again, but in the main the road was still nice and hard. The dirt had stayed more or less smooth, given that, even with thousands of feet on it that morning. The same seemed to be holding for the main camp, when they walked into it. They hadn’t taken everyone that day, only about a third of the men available. Women too, most likely, but Anders had yet to meet any of those in the Istlan military. Some of the ladies that had been taken prisoner seemed to be knights of a sort, however. Probably light armored horse, rather than heavy, since men were simply stronger than women were, but they seemed hard and capable enough for the task.

Like they might have been, if they hadn’t ended up mired like they were. Rather than wait, since doing his work in the dark would be no easier than doing it tired but in the light, he started to build almost instantly. He used a variation of the culvert spell, placing the new jail at the back of the compound, but inside the palisade around it. The wooden stakes wouldn’t really keep anyone from escaping, but there was only one narrow door to the thick-walled place, and the roof on top was steeply slanted. The earth was made dry, using magic, and hard using a separate spell that rammed it from all sides at once. The inside was warmed, but he couldn’t hold it that way, really. It was too much effort for him, after the day he’d had.

The prisoners were made to simply stand and watch him work, which probably wasn’t the most interesting thing in the world. Then, some found magic to be passing fair entertainment, so it was probably personal for each of them.

At the end, he frowned.

“It’s not freezing inside, but it’s just a dark open room. I...” He sighed then and nodded. “I’ll make another one, for the women. Not that you men here would harm them, but... I promised to do my best to protect them.” He felt bad, accusing them of being rapists like that. None of the men spoke of it though. They just looked at the ground, feeling the shame of their captivity. Even if they weren’t all stripped to naked and beaten half to death. The other prisoners were being kept across the camp. From the sound of things, they weren’t having an easy time of it.

It took less time to make the second, smaller jail, and he managed to get some of the levies to come over and guard their people, while he went to get his food, then got some help in setting up to cook, directly out front of where the prisoners were to be kept. No one tried to escape. Then, doing that before nightfall would be insanely foolish.

As he worked, Anders called people over. He started with the one person who sounded as if they might have been in charge of something.

“Count Nordman? Would you be free to have an interview with me? I know it’s strange, me cooking at the same time. We can wait until later, but I’d imagine that you and your people here want the letters of ransom to go out as quickly as possible.”

It was difficult, but Anders tried to drop into a trance while he worked and spoke. It slowed everything down, but he was able to tell several things, all at once. Half of the people there were planning to attack, in the night. Even if they died doing it. Most of them didn’t love their chances, and also weren’t aware that others were thinking the same thing.

The Count, a large and powerfully built man that had seen enough seasons that there was much gray in his yellow beard and hair, moved over to him, directly. He seem bemused at the fact that Anders was cooking for them all that night. Until he glanced at the cart, which was mostly filled with meat and greens.

“Riches, these things are, at a local such as this. Then, you took much wealth this day. The armor and effects of our fallen, these ransoms... That is not a poor start on a life, for one as young as you appear.” The man closed his lips then, and looked away, speaking in the language of Yanse, which they were technically in at the moment. “That man, the one in command... He scolded you, like a mere boy or servant. For what crime? Being too powerful? Thinking for yourself? One such as you might make a very good future, living in Yanse. Even if you refuse to turn on your people, you could do much there. Even building a house such as this would assure you a life of leisure and wealth, if done a few times a year.”

Anders looked at the man and nodded. After all, he’d told him much, in those few lines of speech. For instance, that the Count spoke Istlan. He wasn’t speaking in it at that moment, either, which meant the other man understood that most of the levies wouldn’t have two languages, like he did. They were farmers and simple folk, who probably couldn’t read or write, either. Most lands had a class such as that, most likely.

That the man was also seeking to bribe him, perhaps for his own freedom, was also in there. Though that didn’t seem right. He was going to be able to buy his way out of incarceration, after all. Not all of them there would be able to do that, most likely. If that number was too high, he’d be hard pressed to save them all. Really, he wasn’t certain he should.

As soon as they were let go, they’d simply turn and attack again. If not that day, then within the next months or years. There was a real reason to go gently with these people, of course. If they were treated well, then they, and perhaps their people, might hold to that in the future. It wouldn’t always work, but sometimes it did, making it a thing to attempt. At least that made some sense to him.

Anders shook his head.

“I’m just a fletcher and the boy who makes deliveries at times. Now, how do we get notice to your people? Are you paying the ransom for all of your people? You mentioned that in a way that seemed to indicate that would be the case. That they’re your people, that is.”

The man turned white then and went hard eyed.

“I can’t afford that. Even if I beggar myself, I wouldn’t have even the rate required for the lowest of my own people here. I can, perhaps see to ten of them?” The man swallowed, thinking of a sum in gold that sounded high, to Anders. Nearly ten percent of what he owned, merely for his own freedom.

Rather than give over and lower that for the man, Anders simply nodded.

“Fine. Where do we send a message? Do any of the people here who can’t make the ransom know where to go?”

That, it turned out, was the case. In fact, he had eight messengers willing to travel at first light with complicated instructions as for deliveries. One of them, a poor knight, from the sound of things, if an honorable one, volunteered to meet the others and bring the funds back to Anders.

He smiled when he spoke the words, his eyes sad.

“Then, if I am taken prisoner again, it is only one man, not eight.”

That made a lot of sense, so he nodded.

“Understood. Now, some of you, a few, are planning to escape in the night, killing as many of us as you can. Don’t. You won’t survive it. I already know who you are, after all.” They were eating by that time, and Anders’ words got several of them to glare at him. He simply smiled at it.

“Besides, we’re trying to get you all back home. Please recall that later, if it’s your turn to show mercy to someone.”

There were grudging nods at the words, but Anders knew they wouldn’t take it seriously, until they were on their way back home. At true dark, the prisoners were put inside the structures, the hard and heavy, unlocked swivel doors closed, to keep the heat inside. Feeling about finished for the day, Anders made his way back to his tent, only to be waved into the one on the far side, by Prince Robarts.

“Anders? A moment, of your time, if that’s possible?”

He nodded, since he was tired, but not falling down yet.

“Certainly. What may I do for you, Prince Robarts?”

That got waved to the side, a bit curtly.

“I need to have a message sent to father, tonight, if we can do that. It’s late, but we shouldn’t wait, since it’s good, but important news. The southern forces of Yanse have fallen to us. In part, at least. It is a real weakening of their ability to resist us in this area. I should have gotten with you earlier, but you were busy. I hear that General Coelder scolded you for your heroism of the day? That’s less than welcome.”

Anders shook his head.

“He didn’t, truly. He scolded me for not following orders well enough, not for the actions I took, really. Then he set to me the task of seeing to the health and safety of the prisoners I helped to take. I have the levies guarding them right now. Will that be enough, do you think? I should probably do it myself, but...” He was so tired a sense of it poured from him then. Only for a moment, but hard enough that the man across from him nodded.

The Heir let his eyes narrow, just a bit.

“I’ll send over some of the Knights, to stand a watch there. The levies are good men, but not the sort to stand up to an army officer, if they demand harsh things be done to the prisoners.” The man looked over at Sir Humphrey, nodded and then turned back to Anders.

“Overall, you did well today. I can see the General’s point, of course. Following orders is at the heart of military operations. That you aren’t actually in the military might have been missed by the man, naturally. Now, we need to leave for the next camp, the north central front, in a day. That will leave the prisoners here, under the command of others. I’ll speak to the General, and suggest he see to their care, as you would do it. We leave at mid-day, tomorrow, weather and the war, permitting.”

That was a tight time schedule, but he might be able to get some food in, if he hurried well enough. That wouldn’t cook it, but there was only so much he could do that way if he had to leave under orders from the Prince.

For a moment he felt torn in too many directions. The General had told him to see to the prisoners. The Prince told him he was leaving the next day. What he lacked was any way to make the two things meet in the middle. There was little to nothing he could do with the prisoners if he was gone. On the good side, if he had orders to leave, the military man wouldn’t be able to do much to him over the idea. It left him feeling poorly, however. He was supposed to get his tasks done. It wasn’t just his own rule for himself, it was what everyone he knew expected of him. Most of the time, at least.

That must have shown on his face, because the man nodded, seeming to commiserate with him.

“One thing I have learned in life is that you will never be able to make everyone happy. Not all the time. The best you can manage, most days, is making sure you do what you think is needed, to your own satisfaction.” He smirked a bit then, and looked at the ground, which he kicked twice, with the toe of his boot. “Which, trust me, is never as simple as it seems, when your father is the King. I understand that sense of being torn.”

He nodded at the man, looking up at him. The fellow wasn’t a giant, but he was taller than most around them by half a head or more. Thinking things through, he shrugged. It was rude of him to do that, so he sighed a bit and then bowed.

“I’ll be up early then, to see to some hunting, if I can at all. If I can’t... I don’t know what I’m going to feed the prisoners.”

Prince Robarts gave him a strange look for a few moments, and then nodded.

“Then do what you can, to the best of your abilities and let it be enough. It will have to be. Now, you should be off to bed, I wager. I’ll ask Sir Clemence to wake you early?”

That was a plan, and would probably work better than Anders trying to do it himself.

“That message first? I can do that now.” He was exhausted, but the communications magic truly wasn’t that difficult to manage. Neither was being able to ascertain that Master Tolan was at a meeting with the King just then, making passing the information along rather expedient. After that, going back and forth twice with messages, Anders finally was allowed to go off to bed, wondering it Sir Clemence would be able to rouse him the next morning at all.

As it turned out, he was just as well off to have gone to bed early, since Sir Daniel yelled for him, at an hour that was totally dark outside.

“Master Brolly! Problem at the jail. Come!” There was a sound of feet then, boots hitting the ground, with many people running into the night. He followed, muttering a spell as he moved, making his belt knife glow, since he’d fallen asleep with it on.

It was his short eating knife, not a real weapon, but it gave him something to focus on.

“Bar li teth- fen ot...” A bright light, like that of the sun, only made smaller and less hot, came from the metal of the knife. The little sword, as he’d called it. It worked, thankfully.

When he got to the jail, it wasn’t the men’s side that was having trouble, but rather the women’s. One of the ladies was naked, her face bruised. Off to the side were a clutch of military men, with one of them lying on the ground, clearly dead.

He didn’t wait to ask what had happened, closing his eyes immediately and looking at what had taken place already. It wasn’t a good thing, the woman being pulled out of his jail by force, the levies not being able to tell the military men to simply leave. At least they hadn’t, at the time, and the feeling was that they really hadn’t wanted to fight the men who had come to rape the women there. Only one of them had been used that way, but it was one of the ladies that Anders had assured the safety of. That he’d do his best to protect her and the others. Then she was used, which wasn’t, he hoped, the best he could manage at all that way.

Rage filled him, for several moments. He was still in a trance, so it didn’t show on the outside. Not even when he spoke.

“We need the General here. Now, please.” That didn’t take long, the man alerted to the situation by the yelling right outside his own tent.

He bothered to ask what had taken place.

Anders silenced everyone else, waving the glowing blade. It was just a light, but did serve to get their attention.

“These five men, four now, raped that woman. Each of them was going to do it, though only three of them managed it, before the knights found it going on and stopped it. I’ve checked the situation, using magic, and all the facts line up. I promised this woman that she would be safe from such things. I promised.”

Anders didn’t know what was going to happen at all. He figured, or at least Farad did, that the men would be allowed to go, perhaps with a reprimand, since the woman was only a prisoner and that kind of thing happened. It was almost a rule of war, in fact.

After a moment of reflection, the older man took a deep breath.

“I see. This is an odd situation, then, isn’t it? In the normal course, there would be no punishment for such an act. You men, perhaps unknowing, have challenged Master Brolly’s very word... He is acting here as a direct representative of King Mathias, which alters the situation, greatly.” He swallowed then. “Trial by combat. Now. This is to the death, Master Brolly. They will try to kill you, if they can. Arm the men, please, Sir Daniel.” They had their own weapons, which had been taken away.

As soon as they were armed again, with swords, Anders killed them all. Ruthlessly, causing their heads and middles to explode. It happened so quickly that it seemed almost to be two separate events, instead of four.

Then he set the bodies on fire, even if it made no sense to waste the energy on it. The world filled with the scent of roasted meat, at first. The light from the fire was white hot, with blue in it, and it seemed to light the sky, brightly. That scent quickly became something closer to burning charcoal. Fifteen minutes later, with Anders sucking in air as hard as he could, there was nothing left but black places on the earth and ash.

Which didn’t undo the wrong that had been done there. He shook, bowing toward the woman. It was a bit too pretty and genteel, but he had nothing else he could do. The woman swallowed, and turned away, at first. Then she spoke in the language of Yanse.

“Thank you.” Then she went back into the jail, on her own, which didn’t have a lock on the door at all. Sir Daniel moved to him, and patted him on the back.

“Easy there, Master Brolly. I think your message was delivered well enough. No one will try you, or these people, again. Not if they learn of this event, which all will by mid-morning. Now, we should get back to bed. You guarding this place... Well, as said, it won’t be needed.”

He didn’t storm off, but he left without looking back. The other man was correct, after all. People would either fear him enough to resist their urges, or they wouldn’t. The next day he was leaving, so sitting there that night would show that he was simply not there the next.

Leaving at that moment, he could imply that he wasn’t truly gone at all. Even if he wasn’t there. It wasn’t totally true, perhaps, but he could check on things from a distance, having those skills. Then, if need be, he could pester the General until any problems were fixed. If they weren’t, then... Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

No one tried to speak to him when he rose for the day, not having slept at all. Sir Clemence followed him out, but kept his distance. As if his anger at the rapists would spread to the innocent, if they didn’t walk carefully with him. He got to where the horses were being kept, an open pen, and saddled Chestnut, since she hadn’t been ridden much in the last weeks, being on cart pulling duty. Being a good horse, she hadn’t complained much. Sir Clemence had his own horse saddled in about the same amount of time, which meant he was going slow, to not outpace Anders that way.

Then he closed his eyes, and pointed off to the south west.

“Five miles, that way. We’ll need to ride fast. There’s a large herd of deer. At least thirty of them. We can’t bring that much back with us.” He had what he needed in his saddle bag, as far as rope went, and had a sharp blade on him.

They rode at a decent pace, without tiring the horses. Anders simply moved to them, got his bow out and ready and used three spelled arrows to take fifteen of the things. They weren’t huge, so, even if it was difficult, he caused them to float behind them as they rode back. They bled them first, but as soon as he got in, he passed them off to the army cooks.

“To feed the prisoners, so it won’t take away from the food for the troops.” It wasn’t enough for a long time, but he offered to freeze it for them, if they could have it ready before he had to leave, heading to the next camp.

One of the cooks made a sign of the evil eye against him, which did nothing at all. There was no magical talent behind it at all. Just a hand gesture.

He saw it and simply rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be foolish.” He left then, dropping the meat on the ground. Sir Clemence simply followed along. He hadn’t spoken much that day, until they were nearly back to the tents, after letting the horses go free in the large pen, with their saddles on, since they were leaving soon, if all went to plan.

When he spoke, the other man sounded... Pleasant.

“It’s a problem the weak of the world have when they realize that those around them aren’t as they are. Four strong men with swords came at you and died. You didn’t even wave a weapon at them. Word has likely spread on that part. Being feared isn’t a great thing, but it can be a useful one. Now, we need to get things packed and ready. We leave at mid-day. The journey isn’t a far one, but we won’t want to leave anything.”

Anders nodded, then spoke, his voice low.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to seem...” He waved a hand. “You know, I don’t know what I might seem like at all. Sad and confused?” He was making light of himself, but the other man chuckled and shook his head.

“No, Anders. Not at all. You seem determined and strong. I know that I wouldn’t want to cross you on something you actually care about, at least. Let’s get our gear, animals and your wagon and cart ready. We need to wait on the Princes, or we’ll all look bad.” He smiled then, and moved inside the tent to get his things.

Anders nodded, to himself and hurried to see to his own things, as well.

In the end, they were waiting on Prince Robarts, so that part worked out, well enough.

Chapter twelve

“Well, gentlemen, I think we might be about finished here.” There was a certain air of relaxed calm to the older man’s words, given the situation below them.

Anders had spent the day before at a slight remove from the third General he was supposed to have met with. Close enough to get a feel for the man and his command staff, but not so much that he was, as people had suggested, under-foot. Frankly, the man had been a bit rude and dismissive to Anders the whole time, even if he was capable of polite behavior, over all. He managed well enough with the knights and of course was positively genteel when it came to either of the Princes.

He kept referring to Anders as boy, however, even after an introduction had been made and it was clear that his role as messenger was a bit more inclusive than simply handing letters over, with a bow. For his part, Anders didn’t really care. Part of his mind kept dwelling on the people who he’d killed a few weeks before. Not only in battle, but the men that he’d dispatched in the trial by combat.

That portion of things, the fallout of it, was interesting, at least. General Coelder, who had proclaimed the need for the fight in the first place, seemingly without hesitation, had been wracked with conflicting emotions about the whole thing. On the one hand, armies weren’t supposed to allow rape of enemy soldiers and knights, if they were taken in battle. Everyone did though, when it came down to it.

Most of the time they simply looked the other way, when it happened.

That Brolly had been there complicated things. He’d negotiated terms of surrender, and the military had, after a fashion, breached that. His conflict wasn’t in that he’d allowed Anders to handle things, but rather that he thought he might have been safer if he’d killed the four men himself. If King Mathias decided that the boy represented him there, which was obviously the case, then Coelder might well find himself out of a job, or worse, hanging from a gallows, for the crime of allowing his men to take such an action.

The only grace, according to the man’s thoughts, had been that Master Brolly had handled the four soldiers so incredibly well. Making it seem less like a trick to murder the boy, in an attempt to cover up the situation than it might have if it had been a hard-won battle.

That part had shocked Anders a bit, when he’d realized what the man had planned at the time. He’d thought that Anders, being a boy, would be hacked to pieces in a real battle against that many trained fighters. Most users of magic required a lot of time to prepare themselves for a fight, if they could at all.

In short, the man had, in that moment, tried to kill him, to keep his own neck on his shoulders. A thing that wasn’t likely to happen, if Anders had died, of course. The move had been a poor one, ill thought out and in the end, thankfully, not needed.

At least so far no one had gone to him and demanded he answer for his actions. That would happen, of course. Eventually.

This other man wasn’t half as caring or concerned about the little boy who was there, for some reason. In fact, he rather ignored him, with a high level of focus on the other things in his world. Given there was a battle on and had been for over a day, that made some sense, even if it felt a tiny bit pointed, since he was the only person getting that kind of treatment. Even other messengers were given a nod or a wave at times.

On the good side, that left him plenty of time to get a feel for the fellow, General Topher Nest, and his main command staff. Sitting on the ground, which was much drier, being further north than the other two camps had been, he worked out the needed affinity to make contact with the unpleasant man and his team. They, in the main, seemed to be in the same mold, except for one single Captain who had given him a nod when Anders had handed out cups of clean water, a few times.

The latest news had hit hard, since there were two things going on, it seemed. Reading from a letter that had been handed to him, the General, who was old, fat and rather worn looking, turned to Prince Robarts.

“We need to get you and your people out of here, if we can. A force of at least forty thousand men is marching toward us on the right, which will trap us in place. We don’t have time to move everyone out, but a small group of fast riders could, possibly, make it. On top of that, here, in the center of the line...” The man moved to a low wooden table, which had the command maps on it, with small metal figures to represent the various forces being arrayed, the General put a new one on, which was very nicely done. It showed men with swords, who were screaming and seemed less than perfectly arrayed in lines.

He tapped the top of the new figure, showing where he meant, once it was in place. His weathered fingers shook a bit, even if he was calm, otherwise.

“Here in the front line, hundreds of fallen soldiers from the other side have risen and are refusing to fall in battle a second time. They don’t fight well, but we can’t stop them. Those two things, as well as our backs being to this small mountain, mean that we can’t win.”

There was tension from the men around him, but Anders simply closed his eyes and checked the information, using his wizard talents. Having seen the map it was ridiculously easy to gain more information about what was going on. This time, instead of holding his tongue, as he’d been instructed, he spoke. Gently. In a trance.

“The dead there are being animated using a complicated blood magic spell. The caster, a necromancer, is a woman called... Derna Lossen. She’s wearing a headdress of horns and has all black robes. Around her neck, in gold and blood, is the talisman that the spell is attached to. It won’t be enough to simply kill her, since the power is coming from those wounded and fallen in battle. The spell must be removed from the metal. Fire will do it. That or cleaving the thing in two.” If anyone spoke to him, Anders couldn’t hear it. “The men coming in are fresh, except for a forced march starting earlier today.

Their commander is planning to focus them on our right flank and to eat away at our forces there, knowing they are already exhausted from the fighting that has gone on already. Once that’s done, they’ll simply move down the line, squeezing us between the men we have already battled and the illusion that is about to be cast.”

He let his eyes open slowly, and looked at Prince Erold, as if he’d been speaking to him, personally.

“Our friend from the other week. Deruda. Illusion, unlike the dead fighters. Those are quite real. Do you want me to take care of this?”

Anders meant in that he could get a chant going when the time came, that should show that they weren’t fooled by mere light shows, no matter how well performed they were, but Prince Erold nodded at him.

“I think it’s time, Anders. General, which of these issues do you wish us to handle first? The undying fighters are already here. The others will be some moments, I suspect?”

Anders closed his eyes again, and checked their progress before answering.

“Three hours? Enough time, I think, if all goes well.”

When his eyes opened, the General and most of his men were still ignoring him, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. That didn’t go for the Prince, of course, who commanded total attention.

The General shook his head.

“What is this messenger boy going to do? Take in our papers of surrender? I... Suppose, though I can’t like it.” The man seemed honestly baffled by the idea, instead of mocking him.

Anders shook his head.

“Not yet. I was thinking I’d send a different message first, if I have your leave?”

The man, who looked away from him again, spoke, as if to no one.

“Do what you may, I suppose. We’re all dead anyway, so why not?”

Anders looked at him and shook his head.

“We aren’t dead yet. I’ll be back shortly, I think.” He had Brownie tied to a tree, by the other horses, not too far away. Chestnut was back at the camp, about five miles away. The position they were in had been picked to make it harder to come around the back at them, but that had been when the forces were fairly even in numbers.

Another forty thousand, especially in fresh troops, would be a lot to face, after a full day and night of fighting. Not that much actual combat took place in the dark. No one could see, so they’d pulled back, waiting until first light came. Anders strung his bow and placed large, rather powerful, spells on ten of his arrows. They weren’t that sensitive, so jostling or even dropping them probably wouldn’t kill him. Fired at a distance though, the things would try to rip the world apart.

He just hoped he didn’t have to use too many of them. He’d gotten to rest, magically, save for some small spells, such as summoning water from the air, or cleaning himself after a night of restless watching. He’d eaten, but only the remains of the cheese he’d brought and some hard bread, made in the last days. It was stale, but still better than nothing or the hard crackers that were all he would have left for the trip home, as far as grain-based products went.

Anders was halfway to the front line of the battle when he realized that Erold was beside him. The Prince had his full plate on, which offered better protection than what Anders had, but it also made him conspicuous.

As strange as it had to seem, Anders rode with his eyes closed for a few moments, then pointed with his left hand, his fingers closed.

“There. About the same distance back on the other side that we are. Our friend, the necromancer. I think she has to touch the dead to imbue them with life again. Here, let me see if I can distract her.”

He did that by getting down from his horse and firing a single arrow in the right general direction. The blast from it was powerful, but other than a rain of body parts and dirt, their side didn’t seem too affected by it. Except Anders, who had to sit down, since the world went black on him, suddenly.

When he managed to stand again, some moments later, there was a soft cheer from the line. That got louder as the men wounded unto death on the other side started to collapse, finally laying on the ground, unmoving, as a proper dead person was supposed to do. Anders didn’t feel impressed with himself. When he checked, using magic, the necromancer wasn’t there any longer. Neither was her complicated and very powerful spell.

Getting back on Brownie, after unstringing his yew war bow, he got her to turn and rode back up the hill to where the commanders had settled.

Feeling a bit annoyed with the General, Anders nodded, once. It was dangerously close to a bow, which would be a problem, given the location.

“Message delivered, General Nest. The necromancer is dead and her spell destroyed. Now we just have the new forces coming in and their illusionist. I saw his work the other day. The man is incredible, as an artist. That monster and then the rain of fire? If we weren’t at war, I’d recommend hiring him to perform for the King.” He looked at Prince Robarts, who nodded, to show that he, too, recalled the fantastic sight. It would be hard to forget, after all, having been huge and well presented. Both illusions had been. “Illusion though, so we don’t have to worry too much, as long as the men don’t run away from it. I should go and set up for them, I think.”

He waited, not having leave to go and do anything like that at all. Interestingly, the General finally decided that he might be worth noticing. For his part, Anders didn’t really care what the man thought or felt, any longer. He tried to shake that idea, since it wasn’t fair. The other man was, most likely, acting in a way that made sense to him. Anders was simply a message boy. The kind of person that you ignored, not only for your own convenience, but for their safety. If ignored, you could pretend not to see minor gaffs and things that otherwise might have to be assumed to be an insult.

He fought to seem engaged and like he wasn’t being consumed with guilt and rage. Yet again, he’d killed. Hundreds had just died at his hands, not including those reanimated corpses. They were already gone, so not his fault or responsibility, of course.

The old man laughed. It was still grim, but came with a nod.

“Message delivered, indeed. More firmly than I’d thought possible. We might not be dead yet, gentles! Can you do such a thing again this day, sir? Strike with another mighty arrow like that?” Now the man seemed far more polite about things. At least toward Anders.

He nodded.

“It’s hard and I need to recover each time. That... About a quarter of an hour, if I can get it. If I push too hard, too fast, I’ll pass into blackness and be useless for a time. I probably can’t keep that up for hours, either. Call it... Ten more such explosions. I could freeze them as well, or call fire, but those don’t cause as much death.”

There were other things he could have done as well, but he didn’t mention them, since doing things like causing the world under the enemies’ feet to turn into mud was as hard or harder than making loud noises and throwing things around. At least it would be, at the moment. The world was more or less dry where they were. Sending a stream or river through the ground at the right place would take hours, at best.

He shrugged then, and looked down at where the fighting was still going on.

“Then, if the men on the other side will bunch up, say in marching formation, I could remove many of them at one time. If I were to ride over and hit them before they properly got into place...”

The General made a sharp sound then. Through his nose, in a fashion that seemed almost painful.

“Don’t be an idiot. You might kill a thousand of them, and then be overrun and killed yourself. No, if you can, use those on the field as a shield, like you did before, so that you may strike many times, before you die. Better, don’t die at all. You used a bow. Can you cast the arrows to standard distances?” The man seemed shrewd then, but went still when Anders shook his head.

“About half that. I can send arrows about a hundred and fifty paces. Man paces, not mine, but that isn’t the full length. I’ll be in range of their bow, when I act.”

That was simply due to his lack of strength, physically. He shrugged then, thinking of something.

“Though, I’m only needed to put the spell on the arrow. No one said I had to be the one working the bow. If we found someone stronger that way, we can act from a greater distance. Plus, they’ll probably target him, instead of me, so there’s that.” He was trying to jest, but the men there, all of them, nodded.

One of the Majors, a man named Lewethin, made a considering sound.

“We could line up ten men, firing at one time, making it even harder to tell who is doing what. How close do you need to be to the arrow, when fired?”

Anders thought for a moment, since it was a very different way of doing things than he would have come up with on his own.

“Really, I could place the spells from here and never leave your side. The pacing in time is the important part for me, not the shooting of the bow. I don’t know if I can trust others to use the spells at the right time. For my recovery, I mean. If they’re used to close together, I’ll probably die.”

The General and Prince Robarts both nodded, but the friendly Captain, the one that had acknowledged him as being a person before, let his head bob a few times.

“You make those up, and we can simply hand them out, one at a time, in the locations we need? No one can make much of a mistake that way, or get antsy and shoot before it’s time in panic. That’s vast, a weapon like that, so it’s worth using it with care. What do you need for it? How long?”

The time was a minor factor, but they had to get proper arrows, and the men for them. The hardest part was actually getting the arrows, since they’d all been used in the last day. In the end they had twenty of them, but the poor things were mainly damaged to being nearly unusable.

Anders nodded when they were handed to him, the Captain, who was named Ricards, having only the one name, understood they weren’t the best quality.

He sorted them, looking for the best ones, then, carefully, used magic to repair cracks in the shafts, as well as attaching heads more firmly. The feathers were harder, but he managed to merge the wood with the quill along the back edge, since he didn’t have any glue available at the moment. Then, carefully, he placed the spells on them, marking each of them with a single red band, near the front end. That was about as large of two of his fingers put together, but of one piece.

“Just so they won’t be confused for anything else.”

It took a while to get the work finished, since he had to make up a new spell for it, several times. He could repair arrows, and even make them, but he hadn’t done it with magic alone before.

The Captain rode out after that, to see to the rest of the plan. Anders didn’t care that much about it, and probably wouldn’t, until he was gasping and the world was going dim on him. Most probably while all the arrows were triggered at once, draining the life from him, or at least using all of his energy at one time.

When the fresh enemy came into view, it was an impressive sight to behold. It looked like there were forty thousand monsters approaching, instead of men and horses. They were all green, had giant teeth and full plate armor. They also stood at least ten feet tall, to an individual.

Anders checked again, but the regular soldiers were still there, hidden under the illusion. He clapped a few times, as the others on the hill looked on, dumbstruck.

Then he called out.

“Ba-ru-da! Ba-ru-da!” No one else responded for a time, not knowing they should, until first Prince Erold and then Robarts did it. Then the commanders followed along, including the General. Tiredly, the men below finally picked it up, which, after a while, caused the whole thing to be dropped, since clearly they weren’t tricked by the clever seeming. When it vanished, the men cheered and prompted by their commanders on the hill, clapped their hands in appreciation of the fine work. At least that had been Anders reason for doing it. Everyone else had simply followed along.

Much as Anders had done over a week before, the General thought a magical reply was in order, so waved for a horn to be blown. That, in turn, had a single arrow flying into the mass of bodies that hadn’t even formed up yet, on the battlefield. The explosion was larger this time, since Anders had pushed things, wanting to actually do his part toward saving their lives.

A section of the armored men vanished and more than that fell to the ground. On the outer edges some few hundred of them were off their feet, and were only slowly returned to standing when Anders managed to get to his own feet. He was breathing hard and his heart raced from the momentary exertion, but he recovered before the enemy did. Slowly, seeming reluctant to do it, they filled in the gaps and started to try and take the field a second time.

Packed in closely together again.

“I’m ready, General Nest.”

There was a nod then, and another blast of the horn, to signal things. This time the arrow came from a totally different area of the battle field. It hit deeper into the mass of bodies, as well. Since he was going to meet with his old friend the ground anyway, Anders simply sat, so he wouldn’t fall each time. It was a bit harder to recover this time. When he did, the fighting on the field had stopped and the other side had pulled back, away from the battle line.

It took longer for the enemy to recover as well, thankfully.

“Again, I think?”

The chubby General laughed. It was the least pleasant thing like it that Anders had ever heard before.

“Two on the horn, please.”

That had the arrow flying into the largest mass of men on the field, rather than the new ones coming in. Then, almost as one, the entire field of battle cleared on the other side, with men riding and running away, in a panic. They didn’t wait for the next explosion to do it. Even the fresh forces, who hadn’t seen proper combat at all so far, simply turned and marched off.

The General ordered them to be hunted and killed, if at all possible. That meant Anders wasn’t done for the day. Every quarter hour, even if he wasn’t ready for it, another spell went off. Finally, though, all the arrows were used, and he got to rest again. The field was empty, except for their men and the dead. A cheer had gone up when the other side had run away. Now it happened again.

After a while, he rolled his eyes, then closed them and tried to gather information about what was going on. It took a while, since the other side was in chaos, at the moment.

He nodded and spoke, his voice gentle, since he was in a trance again.

“Their illusionist still lives. He moved away from the main body of soldiers. About ten thousand of that group of forty thousand is alive still. Well, at least that’s about how many of them are with the main body, more may be scattered. They’re in full retreat, heading back to a safe location about twenty miles from here. A fortified keep that one of the knights with them owns.”

He could have followed up and gotten more information, but other than the general direction they were headed, it wouldn’t really matter. No one asked for him to do anything more, at the moment, either, so he sat there, while the men started to sort through the effects of the dead on the field. He didn’t suggest that he deserved any of that, since he was too exhausted for much talking. He needed food and sleep, but it was the second one that was going to be coming first.

At the bottom of the hill a nice collection of prisoners started to form. The men with them didn’t beat them nearly as much as had happened to the people taken at the last battle. Mainly due to being too tired for that kind of adventure. Anders waved at them and sighed.

“I should go and speak to them. What terms are we offering for their good behavior, General Nest?” Really, anyone that spoke their language would do for that, but the man grinned, a forced thing that seemed like he was about ready to fall down, himself. Even if neither of them had been in the fighting. Not like the others there had.

After a pause of some moments, a long enough time that Anders wondered if the other man had gone back to ignoring him, he answered.

“Food, a roof and a chance to be ransomed, in exchange for their good behavior. They’ll lose their armor and weapons, of course.”

That was probably the standard offer. If you had a knight’s armor, he wasn’t going to be making war against you, any time soon. Prince Robarts looked at the collection of people and tightened his face.

“There are women in the grouping. We won’t have them being molested. There was a small issue, after the last battle, that way. Five men of our army raped an enemy fighter that had been assured that wouldn’t happen. We don’t want a repeat of that.”

The General winced.

“The men were cashiered?”

Prince Erold shook his head at the word, which Anders didn’t know and Farad had only a guess at. The meaning was probably akin to being bought out of the military, in shame.

“No. General Coelder called for a trial by combat, with no time to prepare for it. Our champion was Master Brolly. The gods didn’t side with them, so the four remaining men died in mere moments.”

There was a disbelieving look from the man at the words, but he, perhaps wisely, didn’t call the Prince a liar. Not directly.

“Four men fell to one in combat? One at a time, but still, that’s impressive. One grows tired and makes mistakes.”

Robarts looked at the fellow and shook his head.

“Four against one, at one time. You saw what his arrows did today. He doesn’t need them all the time. Only ash remained when he was finished. Not even the scent of cooked meat was left behind. It might be best not to press him on that score, if we can avoid it.”

The General was tired, but clearly not an idiot. He turned to Anders and nodded.

“I’ll have the word spread. If anyone tries to go against your word on that, you have my leave to kill them, out of hand.”

That was a strange thing to say, but he stood up, and decided to walk to the bottom of the hill, since it wasn’t that far and really, getting up on Brownie was going to be harder than stumbling down the incline. When he got there, several of the soldiers half heartedly called for him to halt.

“These are prisoners of the King.” The man was probably trying to sound stern, and as if he’d fight Anders for getting too close, but he just seemed tired.

“Understood. I’m Anders Brolly. I was sent to talk to them about conditions, by General Nest. I speak Yansian.”

That, his command of the tongue, plus the fact that he was in red, which was the color of their side, got him waved past. One of the men, hefted his spear and followed along. Clearly meaning to protect Anders, if the need arose, even if no one else had ordered it done. It was painful, watching him move. There were no complaints from the man, however.

When he got to the collection of people, all of them sitting on the ground, in their underclothing, since their armor had been taken first thing, he tried to smile. It didn’t work and he yawned at them.

Speaking in their language, he covered his mouth.

“Sorry there. Anyway, I’m Anders Brolly. You’re all being offered terms and a chance at being ransomed back. You won’t get your armor or weapons back. Let me know if any of those are heirlooms and I’ll try to make sure they don’t vanish. The General agreed to make certain no one with you is raped. That may not work perfectly, but we’ll actually do what we can that way for you ladies. I’ll need a list of names and who we might contact, to see about you being bought back...” He looked around, a bit like he was trying to be crafty and took a deep breath. “If you don’t have any chance of that, being ransomed, let me know now. I’ll try to have you set up to take the messages back, so you might live. That may not be allowed.”

He could only do so much for them, of course. One of the older men, who wasn’t really elderly, having a nice blond beard that was full and a bit unkept, as well as blue eyes, smiled then.

“Well, that’s polite of the savages, isn’t it? Allowing us a chance to go home, if we have relatives that are both wealthy enough and care to have us returned. We need to escape, if we can, boy. They’re giving you your freedom here? If you could sneak over tonight, with some weapons, we might be able to do something. Not much. That thing at the end... I’ve never seen such a magical attack before. We normally out number and overmatch the Istlans in that way. About three to one. They fear magic, and it weakens them. I don’t know that we can survive if their mage comes for us. Can you find him. Or her, I suppose. If you can, don’t let them know you’re watching them. Even if you can’t get away to help us, there’s no need for you to try and face off with a monster like that. The deaths...” The man shook then, in fear.

Anders nodded, picking up that, for some reason, the man thought he was one of his own people. Even if he was wearing the red of the enemy and had on a rather fine mail shirt that a prisoner or, he supposed, slave, wouldn’t be able to afford. They wouldn’t be allowed such, either. Plus, he had an obvious accent, or thought he did.

“I don’t want to scare you, but I’m the monster you speak of. Also, not from Yanse. I don’t suppose we could have your parole on this? In exchange for food, shelter, or at least a roof over your heads and only a minimum amount of beatings?”

The man made a face then and shook his head.

“That would explain the strange accent then. I’d thought you were merely from the north. Well, crud. I don’t suppose we could bribe you to help us escape then? I notice that you haven’t screamed about my plans, as of yet? I’m a wealthy man, you know. I have powerful relatives as well. I could make it so that a person like you might have a very good life, in a civilized place, even.”

He didn’t seem that hopeful, but the man tried at least. What none of them did was act like he wasn’t the magic user that had killed all their friends. One of the ladies, who had a large purple bruise on half her face, and long hair, which was loose at the moment, called to him. Gently, of course, being that she was at least as tired as the guards.

“High Master... Do you need a woman? I’ll trade myself for the safety of these people.” The words seemed sincere at least. She wasn’t lovely at all, having a snubbed nose and round cheeks, but he bowed to her, using the flirtatious mode¸ since that was the only way to address a woman that you met who was polite to you. If he failed to do that, Master Belford would probably beat him with his stick. Anders had to fight the urge to look around for him, knowing that wouldn’t be the case, for once.

“Well met, Miss. May I know your name?”

She nodded, seeming engaged enough, even if some of the men and a few of the women seemed scandalized. As if she hadn’t just offered herself to him freely, to be used as he would choose, for their protection.

“Elanna Smith, High Master Brolly. Daughter of Baron Smith, of Dogensis.”

Anders nodded then, as if he recognized the name, which he didn’t. What the title meant was that, most likely, her family could afford to rescue her. That wouldn’t be the same for everyone there. He worked through the group, memorizing names and contact information for their people. Three more times people attempted to bribe him to their side. Not all of them tried calling him a High Master, which wasn’t a real term at all, if he understood how such things worked in the language of Yanse.

They were, instead, attempting to fluster him. That or legitimately getting him onto their side. It was worth trying, but he didn’t take any of the offers seriously. Then, after a while, it was obvious that they didn’t think he was anyone in particular. Magically speaking, or not.

After a while, with a nice trip back to the camp for the evening, Anders made a point of building two separate jails again. It was actually easier this time, since he did it in smaller portions, having learned not to be as foolish as he had been when it came to energy, and he didn’t have to dry the soil first. That made the whole thing easier to manage. Several of the women who had been mocking him seemed suddenly fearful, for some reason. Then, they hadn’t been mean to him, just flirtatious when they didn’t mean it. After the construction was done, he locked them inside, using a heavy wooden bar across each door, on the outside. They were uneven, but worked well enough to make it feel like people weren’t expected to simply walk away from the camp that night.

He wasn’t responsible for feeding the prisoners this time, so worked his way back to his camp, where he had a tiny tent, next to the one that the knights were sharing with Prince Erold and Prince Robarts and set up to make some food for them all. No one was that hungry, except for him. Still, he pushed food on them, and got most of the edibles consumed before they all fell down for the night.

The next day, his back aching from sleeping on his side, he got up before true light and started to pack up. Not that he knew they were leaving already, but, unless there was another battle to attend, his task was to get back to the castle as soon as possible. They really weren’t making poor time, so far. He was exhausted still, but that was just from working too hard, using magic for everything. It was handy, but not easy.

When the others rose for the day, they started following along with him, readying to leave. Even the Princes did that, meaning it seemed they were going to be on the road that day. It meant leaving at mid-day, since getting the wagons ready took a lot longer than it felt like it should. His wagon would have been empty, except that people had decided that part of the war boons belonged to him. Really a lot of them, which meant they had three full wagons with them, just filled with things that were his now. There were another two needed for the knights, as well as the one that carried their personal gear. They wouldn’t have been able to take the things with them, except that the military needed to transfer some men back to the capital, anyway. They were mainly those wounded in the fighting, though they had guards with them, as well as a food wagon, this time.

In short, they had a caravan going back to the castle, which while much smaller than the first one, was large enough to look real. They even had knights to guard them, which would make it seem like they had something special in the wagons.

Anders slept better that night, being away from the battlefield. Not that he didn’t dream of the horrors that he’d seen there. Mainly about things that he’d done, as well as dead people coming for him, following no matter how far or fast he ran. That was annoying, since he really just wanted to rest. He didn’t need the lesson that his mind was trying to give him.

That, clearly, was that he needed to avoid war, whenever possible. A thing that even the Anders portion of himself agreed with now. Not out of fear, simply so he didn’t have to kill as many people. It was a thought that left him feeling oddly empty inside.

Mainly because part of him didn’t care about the people that had died because of him. The other part was keenly aware that he was, at least within a certain set of lines, kind of evil, now. Yes, his hand hadn’t fired the arrows that had killed tens of thousands of people. True, they had been fighters and soldiers, there to kill him and his friends. In a war that had been started, for no real reason, by Yanse.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t the monster that he’d been called. Worse, the man who had done it hadn’t been calling him, Anders, names. That sort of thing might be spoken for many reasons, by a man defeated in battle only hours before. He could have, perhaps, cursed the boy sent to talk to him, and not be called on it too harshly, later.

Instead the man, clearly a warrior, had spoken the words darkly, with a tinge of awe and fear behind them. Then, when he admitted that he was that beast, it had been shrugged off, since that wasn’t believable. Not until he showed that he actually had some magical ability, later. Then the prisoners had mainly avoided him, when they could. Before that, they hadn’t truly been friendly, but there had been gentle teasing, to take their minds from their current situation.

Even having some food this time, unlike his first trip back, where only hard rations had been given to even the wounded, Anders collected greens and herbs, when he could, as well as meat. He also kept the men clean each day and tended to their bandages, if they had them. Three of them were with fever, and had to ride in one of the wagons, since they were probably dying of it. He couldn’t do much for them, since it wasn’t the red fever, but he lowered the heat coming from them and in one case eased the breathing. The three men were more comfortable, if nothing else.

He grimaced on the third day and looked at Prince Erold, his face going tight.

The blond young man, blooded in battle, several times, complete with a line cut across his face which would make a nicely decorative scar, leaned in, from where his horse was.

“Is something wrong? Bandits or...”

He’d been checking for that, every few hours. Not just for attack, but for any animals that were near the road, as well as honey comb and for poor road conditions of anything that might slow their progress. It meant that he was fairly certain that nothing bad was going to come at them from that direction. Not in the next few hours. Unless someone was blocking him from seeing them, of course.

He hadn’t forgotten that someone had been behind them, heading deeper into the kingdom, seeking to make trouble. He simply hadn’t found them again. Even though he’d tried, many times.

“No, it isn’t that. We should be fine, up to and including dry weather for the evening. No, I just recalled that I know how to deaden pain. We have sick and injured and I actually forgot.” That idea was so new and different to Farad that he wondered, not for the first time, if he was losing his skills. Except that, when he used them, his recall was nearly perfect. So it wasn’t that, just distraction preventing him from using his powers properly.

The Prince nodded.

“It would be good, if you can aid some of the men. Perhaps so they can sleep? Not all of them will need it, so don’t tire yourself that way. They’re strong. Still, the man that lost his left arm has to be in agony.”

The words were whispered, so as to not offend the poor soul. Anders understood the idea, since the man had the limb removed by a surgeon on the field, after the upper portion of it had been split by a sword blow, length wise. Anders thought he might be able to heal the skin and soft tissue, but hadn’t, because he wasn’t certain what that would do to the bone underneath it. So, not understanding, he left the man alone, to suffer as the wagon lurched and bumped along the road.

“I’ll see to that when we stop next.” He glanced around, and nodded at the side of the road. “I’ll get some more food, as well. If we can feed them more, they’ll heal faster.”

That wasn’t always true, but it should hold for wounds that were fresh. Later, as they finished healing, not eating for a time would, possibly, aid their recovery.

Next to him, Prince Erold nodded.

“Let me know when. I’ll help you take what we can. Cook it, too. I’m not the one having to ride in the back of a wagon.” He winced then, because his voice could have carried to the injured, shaming them for things that weren’t their fault.

Anders simply nodded.

“Yes. We’ll do that.”

The next days were much the same, at least for him. He spent more energy than was prudent, holding pain away from the minds of several of the men. Mainly at night, but after the first days of being without much pain, several of them simply asked, when they needed his aid that way.

Prince Robarts didn’t speak to him much, though Sir Daniel and Sir Humphrey did, acting as if nothing had changed while they were gone. Squire Faine was darker, having had to kill in the last battle. Not that it was a first for him, but much as with Anders, the boy, who was a man, if a young one, had taken more lives than he’d figured would be possible. Only seven, but all of them were done at close range, face to face. That made it harder to live with.

At least Anders still recalled the faces of the four men that he’d killed that way. He wasn’t even trying to do it, which probably meant there wasn’t anything really wrong with his memory, outside of being too tired and lacking in energy. That could be cured by taking a rest, if it was allowed.

That it might not be, was, of course, the price of being young. It was expected for a boy his age to work twelve to sixteen hours every day, while working as an apprentice. He had several such situations going on at the moment, which could lead to up to forty-eight hours of each day being called upon for him. He grinned at that idea, as he traveled with the others.

The only difficult, or at least mildly strange, portion of things was that Prince Robarts was avoiding him. That didn’t truly make sense, given they seemed to be on good terms, otherwise. Anders couldn’t think of anything that he’d done that would have insulted the man or anything. Yes, he’d done well as a killer, which could make some people dislike him, he supposed. The Prince didn’t seem to be one of those types of people. At least he wasn’t having any difficulties with anyone else there. He even asked, on occasion, if Anders would send messages for him. Since that was his primary task of the moment, he did that without issue. Really, as he worked with the communications magic more, it became easier for him to do the work.

Translating the words needed into the components parts was the hardest portion of it, any longer and he found that he was able to do that kind of thing in his head, as long as he wasn’t riding or driving a wagon at the time. Walking was probably out as well, of course. If he could stop and close his eyes it wasn’t too difficult for him to manage now.

That situation, the Heir staying distant from him, lasted until they were back at the castle. They were met out front, by the King himself, as well as the Queen, and several others. Princess Peri and her daughter, Princess Mathia were there as well, which made sense. After all, Prince Robarts was the father of one and married to the other. That showed, since the Heir was very important to the kingdom. Everyone bowed to the older Prince first, as the wagons and horses stopped, in front of the main castle gate.

Then there was a quick round of bows for the rest of them, with hugs and a few kisses being passed out, even for the knights, as some of the court ladies and a few of the men had turned out to welcome them back. Anders grinned at the sight, as he climbed down from the wagon seat. He patted Brownie as he moved past, one of the servants, Jeld, standing there in a nice black suit of clothing, a bit tentatively.

The man, who wasn’t that old, nodded at Anders.

“Master Brolly. May I take your horses and wagons? Or, well, can I call for several people to aid with that?” He cleared his throat, as if it were surprising to see Anders with that many things.

“Certainly. Thank you, Jeld. Call me Anders though. I’ve known you my entire life.”

The man bowed then, somewhat ironically. His smile seemed dry as well.

“I couldn’t, Master Brolly. I mean that, too. It’s against the rules, when greeting someone at the castle gate. You should keep that in mind, in case it’s ever my turn to be welcomed. I’ll want it done correctly, after all.”

He nodded since the man was being pleasant and probably correct as well, and passed the reins to the wagon over. Then he pulled his pack from the back of the wagon before the heavy wooden cart could be taken away. At about that time, Lady Lyse and Prince Alpert managed to make their way over to him, with others standing back, as if waiting to greet him themselves. Several of those people were a bit baffling to notice being there at all.

He could get that Princess Mathia might be pleased enough to see him, or at least to show him that her health had returned fully. She looked good, at least. Healthy and as strong as he’d ever seen her. There was a nice rosy color to her cheeks as well. The rash was totally gone, with no outward sign of it having ever been there.

What the others were there for, he didn’t understand. Not outside of getting him to do some work. Which was fair enough. He could use a good night’s sleep first, of course.

Lady Lyse wrapped him in a hug, which she held for some time.

“There you are! Did you, well, I imagine it wasn’t fun. Was it at least pleasant at times?”

That wasn’t the case, but he smiled and nodded, pretending for her, since she needed him to do it.

“I met many interesting people. Some of them very kind. Others less so, of course. That’s the nature of war, rather than a true reflection on each of them. I hunted regularly and collected plants, as well as spent time with the animals, which is always relaxing.”

Prince Alpert smiled at him. His eyes dark and not sparkling at all.

“Good. Not that Lyse doesn’t understand parts of what really happened, from her contacts. We’ve hidden... Well, much of it, from everyone here. I was instructed to let you know that, so you don’t accidently speak out of turn.” The man winced at the implied idea, that Anders was going to tell everyone everything he knew, if not warned.

Which wasn’t really true, but probably seemed like it to the King and his children. That was mainly due to the simple fact that Anders didn’t know enough about many topics, so had to seem rather clueless when they came up.

“I understand. Now, I should probably see to arranging my room and...” He didn’t know what to do after that, to be honest. Eating came to mind. Something not made by his own hands. That sounded delicious, once he thought about it.

The instant he spoke, several people descended on him. The young Princess curtsied toward him, her face making dimples at the edges. Next to her, dressed in light pink, to the younger woman’s dark blue velvet, was her mother. Princess Peri was less controlled, actually giving him a hug. It wasn’t truly improper seeming, though a few people stared, as if the woman were saying something with the move, other than to welcome a boy she hardly knew back home from the war.

Behind her, waiting, was Countess Rainly, and her coven of weather witches. The woman looked much better now, than she had for a while. That probably meant Lady Martya had finally forgiven her, for whatever it was that had angered her. It had been something about a man, Anders thought. He hadn’t cared before to find out what it was, exactly. Martya hadn’t made the Countess ill. Her coven, at least two of them, had tried to harm her, but had failed.

If anyone had actually done anything to give her the red fever on purpose, that had worked, Anders hadn’t been able to find them in the castle. Which didn’t mean they weren’t outside of it. They might also have hidden their presence, using magic. That, he thought, would need to be his next real project. Finding that magic user that had been behind them on their way to the front.

Princess Peri wasn’t finished with him, which she showed by holding him by the shoulders and not letting him go. It was all he could do not to frown at her. She wasn’t being bad, he simply didn’t feel like being held down, at the moment.

“Master Brolly! I worried each day that the red fever would come back and we’d have no way to battle it. It seems to have stayed away, thankfully. We should meet soon. I owe you still, for the magic you did on the staff here.”

Anders supposed that was true, even if he’d kind of assumed that the linen he’d been given was payment enough. He’d turned it into gambeson for twenty people, after all.

Still, he didn’t want to make her feel awkward, so nodded at her.

“We could have tea in a few days? Schedule permitting, of course.” He meant hers, but she smiled at him, as if he’d said something sweet.

“That sounds wonderful. In two days? After the mid-meal. I’ll send an invitation. Now...” She was going to say something else, when the King walked over to him and bowed. Then, in a move that seemed strange enough that Anders blinked, he patted him on the shoulder.

“Master Brolly! Do I get another report of what you did over the last weeks? I have enough, if you don’t wish to, but it would be interesting to hear of it from your perspective.”

Anders didn’t even have to think about it, since sitting and writing sounded restful, just then.

“I can have that for you today, if you like, Your Majesty.”

Those words had him patted again.

“After the mid-meal, perhaps? We’ll meet at Robarts’ office.” Then the man walked away, in a rather efficient fashion.

In all, it was a strange enough event that everyone there watched him leave, including Princess Peri. The woman behind her, Countess Rainly, stepped in then. She faked a kiss to the side of his face.

“Master Brolly. I too, must press in and consume some of your time, when possible? It’s pressing, but not a thing to displace the King, of course. Perhaps tomorrow? We could meet for first meal, in my chambers?”

Prince Alpert coughed then, with Lady Lyse smiling, a bit blandly. It was clear that she felt the Countess requesting him in such an intimate setting was suspect. He didn’t see a way out of it, without being rude.

“I can’t do that, I fear. I have other tasks to see to then. We could meet later in the day? For the mid-meal, perhaps? My chambers would serve for that, I think?” He could go and get something to eat, for the two of them. That would give him time to find out what she might want from him.

The woman wrinkled her nose. At first, he thought it might be about his humble chambers, but her words spoke of something different.

“That would normally be fine, of course, but I fear I have another appointment then. Would you...” She looked around and spoke softly, even if everyone near them could hear her. “I can be available tonight, after the late meal. We need to speak.”

He nodded, figuring that he could find her, if it were that important.

“I’ll see you then, of course.”

The woman left then, with three rather disgruntled women following her. Why she still had anything to do with them, he didn’t understand. Two of them had tried to have her infected with a disease that was fatal over half the time. If someone had done that to him, he wouldn’t be inclined to be their friends any longer.

Touching his arm, as if concerned, Lady Lyse took control over her son again.

“Now, Anders, it seems you must be straight off to work. It’s important not to fail on such things, when requested by the King to do them. Will you be in your room?”

He nodded, since he was going to have to hurry, if he was going to actually write up several weeks’ worth of reports for the man.

“I should go and do that now, actually. I’d visit more, but I truly don’t have the time. Is... Something going on? Things feel off here. They have for days, in fact.” That was only in how Robarts was responding, but it had been after communications from Master Tolan. Things that had gone to the Heir directly, which was a thing that Anders hadn’t figured would be allowed. It was clear it had taken place, but he hadn’t been told the why of it.

Prince Alpert smiled and then nodded as if responding to something he’d said, other than his actual words.

“That’s wonderful, Master Brolly. I’d love to go riding with you tomorrow. Perhaps Princess Aisla and your mother could attend as well? You’ve been riding of late, haven’t you Lyse? In preparation for the trip to come soon? You do recall that we’re slated to go to Barquea, don’t you Anders? There has been another set of missives from Sula Darian. He seems to expect us to arrive there in about three months.”

There was an ocean voyage between the two continents, but three months sounded oddly long. Depak Sona had spoken of the trip taking closer to a true month, with a few days longer being possible, if the ship was becalmed at some point. Duma Sett had mentioned the whole thing taking her less than that, by nearly a full week.

They weren’t to leave for nearly a month, of course, so perhaps it was mere prudence to give them two months for travel. There would be an overland journey on the other side of things, of course. Thankfully that would be through the relatively peaceful kingdom of Domas. They held a common border with both Barquea and Modroc, of course, so attack from either source was possible. Not that it should happen from the Barquean side of things. Not traveling with one of their Princesses.

He nodded.

“Has a date been planned for us to leave?”

Prince Alpert nodded, his head moving slowly as he did it.

“In three weeks’ time. There has been some talk of not letting you go, of course.” The man seemed to find the idea delightful, or at least a thing of mirth. Farad wished to see a place so close to his old home, but was willing to forego it, if the need arose.

“Oh? Well, that’s a shame. I already speak the language, after all. Was it requested that I not attend, after all? The part about my parentage might detract, I suppose.” Not that he cared about that, at the moment.

The Prince made a strained face at him. Possibly at his demeanor, though it could have been for those watching them at the moment.

“Nothing like that at all. It’s just that several here wish you to stay, for their own ends. We’ve had an official message from two of the Generals you made the acquaintance of, insisting that you be conscripted and delivered back to the front lines, as soon as possible. We also have messages from one of the Captains, requesting the same thing. That one was rather clever, given that the man had Master Tolan deliver it for him, using your new magical system of far talking. A Captain Horner?”

He nodded then.

“That makes sense. A good man, Captain Horner. Solid. Though, it might have been better for me to simply stay there and save the travel time. Am I being sent back soon, do you think?” He got the idea, after all. He’d proven adept enough at killing, which on the field of battle was important and useful. He didn’t really want to over winter in a tent, in the north, but he’d probably survive, if it what was needed.

There was a snicker, from the side, where a man from the court that Anders had never seen before stood, watching them closely. He was blond of hair, though that was thin on the top, and his body was lanky, and didn’t seem particularly robust. This then, was a man who stinted himself at meals, but he didn’t do much of a physical nature. Many of the men at the cloister had been of a similar look, when Farad had been there. He was dressed in black and had a clean face, with no hair there, to show his age. Only fine lines around his eyes did that for him.

The man went still when Anders turned and stared directly at him. The man seemed familiar, even if he was certain they hadn’t met before. Not directly.

Anders simply nodded his way, since laughing at the Prince wasn’t a brilliant plan, most days. Not if you weren’t part of the conversation to start with and in his good graces.

“Hello.” He bowed then, using first courtly. That was polite, without being servile. The other man did it back, a bit stiffly. Not as if he had problems of the body, but rather as if he didn’t like Anders much. Which, given everything, meant that this could only be one person. “Baron Brolly, isn’t it?”

His mother went very straight, but she didn’t make eye contact with the man at all. She would have, if Anders had been mistaken. Prince Alpert made a sound that seemed to speak of a bull readying for battle. Anders simply locked eyes with the man, then smiled. It was enough to get one in return.

“Indeed, I am, boy.” He rolled his eyes then and made a soft, disapproving sound. “Not that you are one of those any longer. Not if even half the tales I’ve heard of you are true. I suppose that tens of people could have lied to me about that, of course. That seems a bit much, to simply prop up the heroic fiction of some average child, don’t you think?”

Several people seemed ready to move on the man then, violently, for the insult being delivered. Anders simply nodded.

After all, that would be far too much to try to convince the man of.

“No doubt. Still, regardless of what you’ve heard, if that many are willing to get together to help me by tricking you, then that would still be impressive, don’t you think? Has anyone bothered saying anything good about me, or has it all been... Well, there have been a few issues of late.”

Things he wasn’t going to speak about, having been warned not to. Possibly for the very reason that a man who had tried to kill him had come to visit.

The fellow pretended to find his words humorous. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, have you been up to things you shouldn’t, at your tender age. Tisk, boy. Shame be upon you. People will talk, if you keep that up. It’s upsetting to some, when they find that others have been up to no good. They might even try to kill you over it.”

Alpert moved in a way that indicated a knife was about to come out and Lady Lyse did something totally different with a similar end point. Countess Rainly and at least one of her witch friends summoned magic of some sort, and were ready to bring it into play. Given the women only dealt in matters of the weather, he didn’t know what that would bring about, but they were going to do it, if the man in front of him acted on his implied threat.

Anders nodded, rather thoughtfully. His voice was calm, almost to the point of seeming bored.

“They might. You won’t though. As of right now, there is absolutely no reason to. Making an enemy of someone roughly willing to forgive you for trying to kill them once, which is very against my normal thoughts on the matter, I assure you, would be foolish. People have spoken many words about you, but fool hasn’t been one of them. You can have those papers drawn up and witnessed tonight, I’m certain.”

The man stopped then and blinked.

“What papers do you mean?”

Ander shrugged, not truly caring about the conversation any longer.

“The ones re-owning me, or however that’s said? Not that I expect us to be close or anything. It will simply be a sign that we don’t have to fight to the death, any time soon. Normally we could signal that wasn’t needed by simply being reasonable people, but as you have heard things about me, I too, have heard of you.” He nearly added that they could choose that as an option, fighting to the death, when the man laughed at him.

At least, he sounded like it was derisive. Until he spoke. Then the words were a good bit more pleasant. A bit slick at the edges, as if the man had planned to say something similar, all along. If so, he was a master of manipulation, because Anders couldn’t see how he would have known to have the statement ready at all.

“Oh, you are a bold one, aren’t you? I’d heard that about you, among other, less savory, things. Fine then, Anders Brolly...” The fellow bowed then, using decent, if not perfect form for it. “I was, it seems, in error when I spoke before, in haste and anger, all those years ago. I’ll have those papers drawn up and marked by the scribe here. Just in case all those people haven’t been going around lying about you to me, for some reason. As you pointed out, it would have meaning even if they were, so I need to go carefully here, obviously.”

Then the man, rather smartly, turned on his heel and walked out of the courtyard.

Chapter thirteen

Anders didn’t get to tap on the door to Prince Robarts office, since the two men in front of it did that for him. One of them did at least, with the other watching him suspiciously the whole time. Anders smiled at the man, Gull, since he knew him from his weapons practice. Indeed, the man was his knife fighting instructor, as much as he had one.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t ram a spear through Anders middle, in that moment, if he turned out to be a threat. They didn’t speak, past a general greeting. No names were used, either. Not until the other man announced him, to the closed door.

“Master Brolly is here, Sire.”

When the door opened the face that appeared was that of Princess Aisla, not Robarts at all. She smiled at him, her slightly broad face lighting up.

“Anders! Come in. We’ve been waiting for you.” She moved back to let him in, the two men shifting their spears just enough for him to squeeze through, if he turned sideways.

For the life of him Anders couldn’t tell why they did that, when there was no one else in the hallway. His best guess was that it was either all about tradition, or possibly training people to go into the room one at a time, in case several attackers actually managed to make it past them, under the pretense of official visitation.

Inside the space there were only four people. Aisla didn’t settle in her seat, moving in to hug him first. That was a tight thing, done with family feeling that Anders had never felt he truly deserved. The woman was of a different culture, so figured herself to be his mother, if at a remove. The child of her husband by his first wife. It meant something to her, so Anders hugged her back, if briefly, not truly wanting to cuddle the woman in front of the other men there.

Mainly to prevent his body from betraying him. The woman was of sturdy and possibly even strong build, but his youthful form would have liked to do adult things with her, if the chance were provided. It was a thing that he wasn’t going to do, of course. Not even if offered. After all, it could be seen as an insult to Prince Alpert, who was too important for him to push at, most days.

When the woman stepped back, to the tolerant smiles of the others there, as if that kind of welcome was only to be expected for him, he bowed. Prince Robarts stood and did it back, as did General Nesmith. The King rose to his own feet, if a bit slowly, as if his back might be aching that day. There was a wince of discomfort in the move. He reached out though, carefully, and took the sealed and folded sheets of paper from Anders’ extended left hand.

“Well met, again this day, Master Brolly. Now... one moment, please, gentles.” The man settled, carefully, and read the whole of the report. Then he doubled back over portions of it. When he finished, he folded the thing back up and closed it, setting it to the side. Anders was left on his feet the whole time, waiting, but it didn’t take the man long to finish it, even if it was several pages long.

“Please, sit.” When Anders did, taking a soft chair across from the King, the cream-colored cloth of the cushions pristine, the other man went on. “There has been a rather serious event, while you were away. One we didn’t tell you of, for your peace of mind. There’s been a death, I fear.”

Anders looked around, and nodded.

It wasn’t anyone that he’d seen that day, given the delivery. Depak Sona wasn’t about, but if he was gone, Aisla would have been in mourning for him, since the man was a family member. In an odd way, the same would have probably been true if it had been Master Belford, with the King himself being troubled. That no one there was too worked up probably meant it was important, but not a person anyone there felt close to. One that Anders was.

“One of the Ambassadorial staff?” If it was an Ambassador, the kingdom would have been in another war, no doubt. That, or struggling to prevent it from happening. There were three or four people that it could have been, who would have been important to Anders, himself. At least that anyone there might have guessed at. Among the Modroc people, there were only two that might have gotten him to go into a rage, of course.

He hadn’t seen any of them, since being back.

The King tightened his face then, and nodded.

“Yes. A man named Natan Smidt. The Assistant Ambassador from the Modroc. He was poisoned, About a month ago. We believe it was in a bottle of celebratory wine. A thing that hundreds of people could have had contact with.” He tightened his face again. “Which... Well, it’s almost certainly Mistress Colm, except that Master Belford was with her at the time, paying court to her, as you ordered.”

That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but Anders nodded, since that could be gotten around. Poison had to be inside the body to work, after all. An herb woman would probably know of hundreds of things that would kill a man, of course. That knowledge didn’t mean she was guilty, of course.

“Has she been imprisoned?”

The King shook his head and leaned forward. As if trying to tell Anders something.

“No. We have no proof of guilt. Only suspicions based on her coming and going while not being seen. Certainly, a capable spy might be working for almost anyone, here. If we killed every spy in this place every time something happened, the halls would be near to empty. The trouble is that we have to present someone to the Modroc, with enough proof of their guilt that it will seem that we have honestly addressed the issue. That Mistress Colm has proof of her whereabouts during the likely moments of the crime means that we can’t simply deliver her up to them.”

Robarts closed his eyes for a moment.

“It’s been weighing on my mind, since Master Tolan contacted me, some weeks ago, on the matter. He was a friend of yours, I hear?”

Anders thought that sounded a bit too close, but he nodded.

“We had a passing acquaintance. Enough that I won’t let him go unavenged, if possible. Not so much that I’d tear the world apart, if we can’t work this out, if that was a concern.” That it might be was a thing that Anders and Robarts could both see and the other three there probably wouldn’t understand at all.

Except that General Nesmith nodded as the Prince did.

“It was, truly, Master Brolly. There was... Well, we had a set of missives from the King of Yanse. The man rather asked after you directly.” There was a slight hesitation, but the General went on, even as the others there looked away or seemed ready to run, or at least placate him. “In fact, the man offered to set aside lands and gold for you, as well a title. It seems that more than one of his people had suggested to him that removing you from the battlefield would be to their benefit.”

From the reactions in the room, a few thought he might be tempted by the offer, as well. He probably should have been. Truly, if it had come at a time when they weren’t at war, he would have thought about it most carefully. At that moment, he simply smiled.

“That’s clever of him then, isn’t it? Several of his people suggested such things to me. Prisoners at the time. I take it that they were ransomed? That didn’t work at the time, so the man sent a letter to you, making such an offer, knowing that it would have to reflect on me, in your eyes. If you distrust me, I can’t be as effective against them, at least in theory.”

The General grinned at him then.

“Which was obvious to us, as well. There was some fear that you might throw in with them, given that...” He stopped then, looking away. The man kept his face free of hair, which left him seeming more youthful than the gray hair on his head indicated. In the moment lines showed, as he frowned.

King Mathias spoke then, making direct eye contact with Anders.

“As a bastard of Prince Alpert, you haven’t been treated well here. Fed and given clothing and upkeep, but little more than that, over the years. Truly, we’ve crippled you, in many ways. We didn’t see to your education, or see to a trade for you, until most recently. A person treated in such a fashion might not be kindly disposed to us, when an offer of wealth and power is on the table like this. Which... Well, could we blame you for taking it? I mean, we would blame you, officially, if you did, but in private quarters, such things would be a horrible temptation.”

Anders had to fight a rolling of his eyes. After all, he understood what the man was getting at. Anders hadn’t been treated as a Prince would have, and Farad was a man of not only another land, but a totally different time. It could be thought that he had no allegiances there at all. That was, nearly, true. Except that he had friends and those who had helped him. Depak, Tolan and Master Belford all came to mind. Captain Ford as well. Even the Master Fletcher and the bowyer had spent time and effort on him, in the last half year.

“I fear that nothing much is tempting me right now, except my bed. I’m exhausted. I’ve been using far too much magic, on a daily basis.” He looked at Aisla, who had been a student Magician, even if she didn’t practice much any longer, given the people of her new land feared such things so greatly. “I didn’t just eat regularly, I had triple portions and more.” He held his arms out, as she nodded at him.

Her voice was firm then.

“I see. You’ve lost weight. I noticed that both Prince Robarts and Prince Erold were the same as when they left, but you’re nearing skeletal in your appearance. If you were eating that much, then you must have pushed to ridiculous levels.” She glared at Robarts, as if it would be his fault that had happened.

The Prince simply nodded back at her.

“Truly, he did. At times he had to harden the path in front of us, so we could make good time. It was hundreds of miles of road, really. He also worked out some jails for the prisoners, built out of earth, in mere minutes. Great buildings that will stand for years, if not decades. In battle...” The man smiled then. There was grimness in it, at least. “I know that made the reports, but I can’t tell you how impressive it truly was. Not just in power either. Three times the Yansians brought a master illusionist against us, and Anders slapped them back with a chant. Not a thing of magic, either. Ba-ru-da. It means illusion, in their language. They presented us with fearsome rains of fire from the sky, or horrible monsters and we stood there, seeming to laugh at their feeble attempts. They weren’t, by the way. Feeble? Whoever that illusionist is, I’ve never even heard of the likes before. Even knowing that the visions weren’t real, I nearly soiled myself each time.”

Anders could see that, having been there to witness it.

Instead of letting them go on about how foolishly he’d used his abilities, he nodded at the King.

“So, I need time to build back up, and won’t be running off to Yanse, to take up rulership of my new lands there. Really, you should write back with an offer to let them purchase my absence from the battlefield for half a year. Some gold, perhaps? Maybe a wife? I did have an offer from one of the women there.” It hadn’t been real, but he was attempting to make a jest of things.

The King simply went still, then nodded and got the report back around.

“Elanna Smith, daughter of Baron Smith, of Dogenis... I don’t know if that would be considered a high enough position for an alliance marriage. Let me have the archivist research that? I have your point, on that offer though, since the plan is for you to be gone for at least that long. Longer, in fact. On the positive side, you’ve already met the young woman. Did you find her pleasant?”

Anders blinked and then nodded.

“Oddly, considering she’d been taken prisoner in war, she was rather pleasant. She offered her body to me, to purchase protection for her fellows. I didn’t take her up on it, of course, heeding your words on the matter, King Mathias. It also wasn’t needed at the time. I tried to check in on things after I left, but I’m not up on the current state of who’s still with us and who has been ransomed back at this point.”

No one else there had that kind of information either, of course. The rolls of who was prisoner at the moment were a thing, but no one bothered to memorize them. Anders shrugged though. He didn’t really want to marry that young, and doubted it would happen.

“I have her family sword, in my things. Those of several other noblemen, as well. I could have that sent back to her, as a sign of...” He didn’t know what that might show, if anything. “Really, we could send all the heirlooms back, if you want. Just extract a promise that they won’t be used in war against us? At least for a time. I only have seventy-three such things. I wasn’t planning on keeping them anyway.”

Everyone looked at him then, as if he might be foolish or mentally slow. General Nesmith actually laughed at his words.

“You have their weapons? The important pieces, at least? Yes, if we can do that, we might want to, as a show of good faith. That... Well, if you lose your family sword in battle, you tend not to get it back. That will probably shock and surprise more than a few people.”

The King clapped his hands, one time, and then looked at Anders again.

“Very well. We’ll send that off within the day. Now, General Coelder attempted to have you killed. We can’t afford to remove him at the moment, from the front. We can have him killed when he returns, if you wish?”

The words were, no doubt, meant to shock him. He’d gotten that much from the man himself, using magic, so was ready for the idea. Actually, he shrugged.

“It was his intent, at the time, to try and bury the problem. He was pleased enough when I won the trial by combat, however. That... Really, if he’d waited, I probably would have asked him to arrange such a thing anyway. Those men were going to die, regardless.” He didn’t know if he could explain it, but out of the group there only Aisla seemed not to know the story.

“I know that many died, but... This sounds different.”

King Mathias nodded at her.

“Anders had brokered a parole with over half the prisoners of noble blood. One of his promises was that none of the women would be used poorly. Five soldiers bypassed the guards and took one of the ladies in our care, against orders. Knowing they were doing so, in fact. Our General there, Coelder, put them all against Anders in a fight to the death, almost immediately. With no time to prepare.”

Robarts shook his head, a tiny bit.

“Four of them by then. Sir Daniel had killed one of them, on finding what they were doing. They... well, they didn’t merely lose. Anders burned their bodies all the way to ash, in mere moments. It was a fearsome sight to behold. Magic of course, but used so quickly that I didn’t even hear a spell being muttered.”

That was because Anders hadn’t spoken one at all, using the spells linked to hand gestures that he had worked out. Small explosions and then the same fire starting move that he used on the cooking fires most days. His rage had made them stronger than normal, but it was a thing he hadn’t thought about at the time.

Rather than explain, he spoke to the King, directly.

“We probably don’t need to do anything to General Coelder over it, I wouldn’t think. He knew it was a mistake and won’t make the same one again, so it’s repaired already, that way. I keep seeing the men I killed, when I close my eyes, but other than that, I’m well enough with the whole thing.” The men truly had been dead, regardless.

Then he snapped his fingers, which got a frown from the ruler.

“Sorry. Just recalled something. Baron Brolly and I made acquaintance, earlier. I think we agreed that he’ll sign papers saying that I’m not disowned and that we don’t have to fight to the death. That probably means he’ll set up some complicated scheme, from the sound of it, instead, but it might keep things quieter around here. Unless I was supposed to kill him? In that case I’ll have to find some other reason. That or do it in secret.”

The King snorted then.

“That’s brilliant of him, of course. He had a shortfall in the numbers of men he’s providing for the war. Some hundred and twenty men, which is fairly serious. If you aren’t disowned, he can simply order you to take one of the slots. Truly, doing that would have to count as the entire Brolly contingent, given your effectiveness in battle so far. I know that I’d accept that as an exchange right now. One of you is worth far more than a hundred and twenty men that won’t be there anyway, in fact.”

The man didn’t seem displeased by the idea, though he glanced at Aisla.

“After you all return from Barquea, of course. If we don’t have a peace brokered by then. Now, Anders, what plans do you have for the rest of the day?”

The words took him aback for a moment, since it seemed obvious to him what he’d need to be doing.

“Finding the killer, Your Majesty. Natan Smidt will not go unavenged. If I have your leave to do so, that is?”

That got a nod and a wave.

“Go and see to that for us, Master Brolly. You have all rights, to question or detain anyone you need for this effort. You may torture as well, but use that sparingly, if possible. Barring the real killer being found, then find someone we can present as being guilty that will seem legitimate.”

The words weren’t the most pleasant to hear, but he understood the idea. It would be best to remove the real killer, though. Whoever they were. It was probably Mistress Colm, or at least her employer, whoever that was.

If it wasn’t, he didn’t want to blame her and then find the real murderer in their midst, at some later date.

“I’ll see to it, Sire. At once.” He bowed to the man, and then the entire room, as he removed himself from it, walking backward while bent over. The men on the door moved the spears for him and didn’t make small talk as he turned and walked away.

His mind raced for a moment, as he tried to work out what to do first. The obvious answer was to seek out the Modroc contingent. Depak Sona as well. The killer wouldn’t be any of them, of course, but the Modroc might have thoughts about who had done what and frankly, the Barquean Ambassador would have to be the first person they suspected, since the two lands were at war and Depak didn’t have a staff in attendance on him there. Him, or Princess Aisla, of course. If it was one of them, well, then he'd have to frame Agorn for it.

A wave of anger for the serving man came over him then. It was probably unfair, but the hatred seemed to be truly mutual. That meant, if he had to do anything of the sort, it really would be that very man who was blamed for it.

He smiled as he walked, even though he was serious about that last part. He might just do that, even if he could find the real killer. Anders, the boy, relished the idea, even as Farad mentally scolded him for it. It was mentally lazy, after all, which wasn’t a way to start any new project. He needed a clear head on the matter.

Still, it was a place to put things, if he had to, in the end.

He walked directly to Depak Sona’s room, in the ambassadorial hall. It took a while to get there, the castle being large and with many twists and turns to it. When he got to the correct door, he knocked, not truly knowing if the man was there at all, that day.

“Enter, if you will!”

Anders did, with a smile on his face. He bowed toward the old man, who looked to be about fifty, but who, if the stories were correct, was closer to a hundred and twenty or possibly more.

“Well met, Depak Sona.”

The other man grinned back, as if pleased to see him.

“Anders! I’d heard you were returned, but didn’t think I’d get to see you, for some days. How was your journey? You’ve been practicing your magic, I see. That or food was remarkably scarce. Since you took enough for at least half the trip, your current state seems to point to the first idea.” The man didn’t seem totally pleased with the idea, but it wasn’t scolding, either.

Anders simply nodded.

“I did many foolish things, trying to hold it all together. Then I killed twenty thousand men or more and continued along my path to utter dissipation, later. I ate constantly, at levels that left me feeling fat and stuffed much of the time and still had to tighten my belt almost daily. I hope to rest a bit, for a while. I did get to work on many new magics, at least.”

The man frowned then.

“I hadn’t been told of the deaths. Is that a real thing or a turn of phrase that I’m missing?”

Anders switched over to Scara then, so the man would know it wasn’t about the words being used, at the very least.

“No. We were trapped, with a fresh army coming at us, intent on our deaths. I placed vast explosions on arrows, that others fired into the incoming forces as they marched. Ten of them. They fled, but we kept killing, as they did it. I said twenty thousand, but it was more than that. I nearly passed out each time one of the spells was used, they were so large.”

The other man closed his eyes then.

“Ah. I am sorry to hear of that. The taking of life is never an easy thing. Are you well, inside your mind?”

He shook his head then, and spoke of a thing he hadn’t with anyone else yet.

“No. I don’t think I am. I think, perhaps, something inside of me is broken now and that I might never repair it, in fact. I feel both hard and as if I might cry, at each passing moment. At the same time, I don’t care about those who died at all, even while I do.”

The other man simply nodded.

“That is the way of great battles. It took me nearly five decades to move past what I did in the last great war of my people, personally. All I can say is that it will get better, eventually.”

Anders wasn’t certain of that, but he nodded, anyway.

He kept speaking in the language of Barquea, since his accent needed work, if he was headed in that direction soon.

“Now, one of the Modroc, Natan Smidt, was murdered by poison. Was it you or Aisla who did it and how did you get that done? Have one of the servants carry the bottle in?” His tone was casual and he wasn’t serious about the accusation, which got a snort in return.

“In the refrain of all who are accused, regardless of guilt or lack thereof, is wasn’t me. Aisla either, to the best of my knowledge. We have had letters from Sula Darian, which could have held secret messages for us. Indeed, they did, so that might be suspect. The truth is that they were simple updates on the war there. That’s not going well for us at the moment. Not so horribly as to cause fear, but we normally defeat Modroc handily and have been struggling with each battle, of late.”

Anders nodded.

“Ah, then. I’ll be checking all of that out, of course, using magic, so if you feel me poking at your head later, that’s why. How have things been going here, while I was away? It feels like a long time, even if it was only about two months. Less than that, truly.” By about a week, in fact.

The other man, either convinced of his own innocence and that Anders believed him, which was the simple truth, or not caring that much about being accused of a crime, waved his right hand.

“The Modroc are in a state. Clarisse stopped talking to me, when Natan passed. I don’t believe she truly blames me for it, but there are only so many people that it could be, and I have to be thought the prime suspect that way. So far no one has investigated well enough to clear my name or show guilt. Have you word as to what is being done there?”

Anders did, so nodded.

“I’m in charge of the investigation now. With full powers to do what is needed to find the guilty party, or to find one who can be made to look that way. If that last part is needed, I’m going to show the guilt of that serving man that elbowed me in the head. Agorn. Just so you know he probably didn’t do it, when we have him beheaded.” Anders grinned then. “I shouldn’t make light of it. After all, we might really have to do that. It’s why I was so blunt asking if you or Aisla did it. If you did, well, tell me now and we can set that into motion, making him look to be the guilty party.”

There was a simple head shake in reply.

“I can see the thought, since having Istlan in the war against the Modroc would be to our benefit and this kind of event might bring that into being. Then, it also might not. If that was the point, then targeting myself or Aisla would have been the superior plan. If I died, that might be enough to force a turn against the Modroc. The same is true in the other direction, for their Ambassador, Chistos Fromet. I suppose that Smidt could have been ordered to drink poison by his own people, in an attempt to do that very thing, but the man was only the Assistant Ambassador for a few weeks. Before that he was merely an attendant.”

There was a slow shifting of the shoulders then and a sigh.

“I’ve wracked my brain, trying to work this out. So far I don’t have much.”

Anders shifted back to Istlan, his face grim.

“I’ll go and see what I can find out, from the others. The Modroc, first. Then everyone in the castle, if it comes to it. I’ll talk to you later? In the morning, if nothing else, for our regular visit.”

That got a pleased smile and a nod. The man stood as Anders turned to leave, but at the door he spoke, his voice soft. He spoke in Scara, as well.

“Be most careful, great-great-grandchild. The best way to stop a good investigation is often to slay the investigator.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply, simply leaving. That part was obvious to him, after all. The histories spoke of that kind of thing, over and again. It generally took three deaths, before no one was willing to touch a given task, fearing for their own lives. Meaning that whoever was guilty would only have to murder two other people, once they got him.

For the moment, Anders didn’t care about that idea. Not even in the smallest portion. He was too damaged at the moment for such feeling to enter his heart.

Rather than admit that again, Anders moved out the door and down the hallway to the right. He didn’t go far, testing Duma Sett’s door first. There was no answer, so he went to Ambassador Fromet’s room next. The man himself pulled it open, his somber visage shifting to pleased when he noticed who was there.

“Ah! Master Brolly! Good, we have all worried when you were sent away to the war again. I can see it, I suppose. I was never a military man, so perhaps I am incorrect, but a being of magic as you possess might do much in that kind of arena, no?” There was no sense of condemnation from the other fellow.

Not that it mattered, since he was literally pushed to the side, with Duma Sett, dressed in a white gown, doing the work there. Not caring for the safety of the other man at all, she moved in and held him, a bit desperately.

“Anders! Thank goodness you are safe. Here as well. Have you heard about poor Natan?” She held her breath, clearly not wanting to be the bearer of such poor news. He honestly couldn’t blame her for it.

He didn’t want to have to do that sort of thing either.

“I have. King Mathias asked me to find the guilty party. That or frame someone for it, if the people behind it can’t be found or proven guilty. The goal is to prevent another war, if I have it correctly. So... Did he get orders to kill himself? Or, perhaps, did one of you get that kind of order? If so, tell me now, so we can cover it up.” He waited, observing the two Modroc closely.

The Ambassador looked shocked at the very idea, and stammered a tiny bit. Duma Sett actually smiled at him, one side of her mouth lifting. Then she took a deep breath while looking away.

“I have asked myself that same question. Truly, only we, the Modroc, could benefit from such a thing. It would have to be murder, if it happened that way. Natan was no coward, but he followed the Lord of Life as his main god. He would not take a life. Not even his own. His kind are very against war, as a rule, as well, unless attacked. There are others with us who might do such a thing, if ordered. I haven’t heard anything that indicates that happened at all. Christos?”

The man looked at her as if betrayed.

“Of course not! Still, should we be that blunt? What if Master Brolly thinks this means that only we could have done this? It certainly wasn’t one of the Barqueans. This can only act against them. We are the only ones that could benefit from this.”

Anders shook his head then, because that simply wasn’t true.

“Yanse also would benefit, if Istlan has to fight on another front. That’s also ignoring happenstance. That the drink was meant for another and misdelivered or that he saw something he wasn’t supposed to that is completely unrelated to anything else and was ended for that. True, those are unlikely, but so is harming poor Natan in the first place.” He shook his head.

Duma Sett waved at him then, looking down at him, though not as far as all that. She was a tall woman, but no giant. Really, he seemed to be closer to her size now than he had been when they first met.

“If Master Brolly thinks that we are behind this, then he will aid us in making it go away, to save our lives. You heard him, just now.”

The other man closed his eyes. After a long moment, his deep voice filled the room.

“I did. I simply don’t know that it isn’t a trick, to get a confession from us. I swear that I did not have any hand in this. That... It may well be one of my people. I do not want war, but if they were ordered to do such a thing, they would have no choice but to comply.” He tensed then, as if he’d condemn at least one of his own people to death for the deed.

“Let me investigate and speak to everyone first, before you worry too greatly on it. I’m certain that you will all sleep much easier, knowing that a small child is looking into this.” He didn’t smile, but the Ambassador did. There was sympathy in it.

The man looked at him then, his face relaxed.

“I too, noticed that. Is there a reason for that, or is it merely to be a show, with someone innocent blamed for it, while the guilty goes free?” The words weren’t hard, but Duma Sett looked angered at the implications.

Anders could see the basic idea.

“I don’t know. The truth is that we will probably have to do that second one. I will do my best to find the real power behind this, whatever it may be. I’ll be using magic to search your minds, later. Just in case you notice me doing it. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be looking into anyone who might have been responsible for this.”

Duma Sett shook her head.

“Even the Barqueans? You’d look into the mind and heart of a Princess? What of dear Depak? He is a mentor to you. What if he is the guilty party?”

She seemed troubled by the idea.

“Then I’ll hide it, as well as I can. We can deal with that later. If it makes you feel any better, Depak understands that I’ll be doing research into him as well. The only person that will be safe is the King.” The queen as well, but he didn’t mention her, since that line was incredibly unlikely. “If he did it, then we’ll blame someone else, but he didn’t. It would be too risky to put me into looking at it, if that were the case.” Not that the man might not have ordered him to fake an investigation. These people would never know it, if that had been the case.

Bowing, he left the room, backing away, politely. Then he went to the next room, which Natan had shared with several other of the men. Anders laid things out for them, bluntly. In Modroc, so that fewer people could understand them.

There were five of them left, Anders had seen them all many times and even spoken with them, but he didn’t know them well. That seemed an oversight, now. Especially since he needed to get them to trust him, on a level that they almost certainly couldn’t.

“Gentlemen. I’m so sorry to hear about Natan. He was a good man. It... I’ve been put in to find who did it. Was it an order that one of you received?” He waited for someone to hit him, but no one did. In fact, while heads indicated that they didn’t know, bobbing side to side, no one so much as frowned at him. One of them, a man who was of middle years, from his appearance, spread his hands.

His voice was bland, which was hard to do in Modroc.

“No one will tell me this, if it happened. All agree that it is the most likely thing. That one of us, in this room, poisoned our friend. What now? If none here will talk, and one is almost certainly guilty?”

Anders regarded the man coolly, for a long moment.

“I’ll find who did it. If it was one of you, come and tell me, or let me know and we will cover that up. Blame another in your place. There are reasons for this.”

One of the others nodded.

“To stop a war. This... I think it was not the plan at all and not one of us. After all, if we had to pick, we would have killed Chistos, as it would have greater impact. No one in command would risk such a thing. It is too uncontrolled.”

Anders agreed, but didn’t comment on it. People did foolish things at times. General Coelder had shown him that. Even otherwise intelligent people might make the wrong choice, and not all who were in command were exactly wise or far thinking people. Still, it wasn’t the most likely thing to have going on. He repeated that he planned to investigate using magic, then left. There was only one door left, the one Eltha Tennet shared with one of the other ladies that had come to visit. Sandra. She was a spy, and possibly more than that, but was also the main attendant to Princess Sweyn.

Eltha was as well, which was probably an explanation for where she was, at the moment.

Rather than find Mistress Colm next, Anders started with the hall guards. He took notes, finding each person that had been anywhere near the Ambassadorial hall on the day that Natan Smidt had died. Several servants fit the bill there, including Agorn, which was convenient. When Anders dropped into a trance and focused on the man he found what he expected.

That Agorn had made food deliveries, from the kitchen, and had never truly entered the hall at all. No one that was on duty to the hallway had handed anything to Natan directly that day. Except, of course, the very last person that Anders checked.

He was so deeply entrenched in his own mind that he wasn’t even that shocked when he realized that the man who had murdered Natan Smidt was Daren Willet. The room servant that Anders himself had put in place there. It took him a lot longer to work out why it had happened.

Part of that was that Anders made a mistake near the beginning of his search. That Daren had acted for someone else. That he’d been paid, bribed or blackmailed into taking the action that he had. That Daren, a boy that had been around for Anders entire life had sought to better his lot in life, by doing dark things. Only after several hours of searching, he found nothing like that at all.

It was definitely Daren that had done it, however. He was certain of that. More, he knew that others, the King, and Master Tolan, knew it as well.

For the first time, Anders went into the mind of the King. What he found there was... Remarkably calm and normal. He had regrets, but the man wasn’t evil in any way. Not petty or particularly cruel, either. He, Anders, was at least as bad. Even Farad had been and the old man had lived a life that he figured was a rather good and kind one.

On the matter of Daren Willet, the reason he hadn’t pointed to the boy as the killer, as soon as Master Tolan had found him, was that they feared Anders would be angered over it. It wasn’t a true fear, though. The King and Master Tolan didn’t think Anders would fight them or anything like that. They didn’t want him to be harmed by their actions. Because they cared for him.

Even knowing that he was, in part, Farad Ibn Istel.

It was, in the end, why Anders, a boy in appearance if not totally in fact, had been given the task of finding the killer. So that he could, if he wished, protect Daren Willet from his own actions. So that he could subvert justice, if the mood took him.

Rather than decide at that moment, Anders went to find Daren. He was preparing to take the evening meal to those who were eating in their rooms, with Agorn aiding him in the task. The older servant sneered at him, anger and hatred for him rippling through the air, it was so intense. It was that, more than anything else that decided Anders in that very moment. He might have to deliver Daren to justice as well, but Agorn was gearing up to kill him eventually. It might never happen, or take years, but it truly seemed the path the other man was on.

True, it wasn’t going to work, most likely, but Anders didn’t feel like looking over his shoulder in yet another direction, at all times.

“Daren! A word? We have a special event coming soon, since Princess Aisla and Ambassador Depak are leaving soon. We need to plan a party for them. This is to be a large event, so you’ll need to work with many people, to find out what will be needed. We should go and talk about that.” He looked at Agorn, who seemed ready to yell at Anders, in his anger at the little bastard who dared to think he was as good as real people were.

Looking at the server, who was dressed for the job, as was Daren, in all black, he bowed, doing it properly.

“Can you do the service tonight, Agorn? I’ll try to have Daren back in a few moments, but if not... We should wait. I don’t know if you’re up to the task. I don’t want to press you.”

Those words nearly had him slapped, he was certain. Agorn managed to restrain himself, and nod. Grumpily.

“I can manage, for a good cause... Andy.” The man acted as if he’d taken something away by calling him by a child’s name. It might have actually worked on some level, if he hadn’t traveled under that name for weeks, recently.

“Thank you, Agorn. We’ll hurry. We don’t have to set up much right now, but there are a few things.”

He didn’t take the boy outside or anything, just to the end of the hallway. The guard there was one that he recognized, but didn’t know by name. They’d talked a few times, however. They were no more than twenty feet away from where Agorn was working, making the food cart presentable for service.

He spoke loud enough for the guard to hear what was said. Not even trying to hide it.

“You killed Natan Smidt. We have the evidence and those in charge know of it. Tell me why you did it. I can’t figure that part out. It wasn’t for gold or to get us into a war. I checked those, using magic. So, what was your reason?”

The man looked panicked and ready to run for a moment. The guard brought his spear around, ready to strike the boy, who was only sixteen or seventeen, down for his crime, if it was needed. Finally, tearing up, he spoke.

“It was Alice. The serving girl? We was to marry, but she took up with him and got with child. Then the man wouldn’t take her as a wife, as is proper. Trying to dump a bastard on her. Begging your pardon. I was just so filled with rage over it, that I...” He shook his head, slowly, tears coming to his eyes. “I can’t even claim that, can I? I didn’t take a knife to him. I plotted, like a fiend. I deserve to die for it. I didn’t know that... I didn’t think it would risk a war. What do we do now?” He looked lost and scared.

Anders considered things for a moment, then shook his head.

“I need to talk to some people. For now, can you collect yourself enough to help with the dinner service? Act normally. One moment.” He nodded at Daren, then the guard, who seemed baffled. “No matter what happens now, simply agree with me. Even if it means that you have to die, Daren. Understood?” He stared at the boy, who was still taller than he was by half a head.

There was a nod, and a sniffle, as he headed to make certain Depak Sona had his food in a timely fashion. Then he walked over to the Modroc Ambassador’s door. He was alone and waiting for his food, so answered rather quickly. Anders hurried inside, and pulled the man away from the portal.

Then he spoke in Modroc.

“I’ve found the killer. I have a question first. In your country, if a man was betrothed and another man got his woman with child and then refused to marry her, what would be done?”

The man wasn’t a fool, so worked out what that had to mean.

“Ah... There would be blood over it. Certainly. Even if the wronged man couldn’t act, his friends would for him. Who was wronged in such a fashion? Natan... He was forbidden to marry on this journey. We all are. That... Yes. We must allow that as a personal matter. Is this person coming for the rest of us, do you think?” He spoke as if that made any sense at all.

“No. It was Alice, one of the maids, who was left with child. She probably lost it, having been with the red fever recently. I treated her myself, but didn’t make the connection. She was engaged to Daren, but broke things off with him, due to circumstances.”

The man’s face twitched, then warped in pain.

“Our Daren? The man who brings our food and cleans for us?” He teared up then.

Anders did as well, then he lied.

“Yes. His friend Agorn, took matters into his own hands, without Daren knowing of it. The man meant to do the right thing, I’m certain.”

The Ambassador nodded, his face wracked with pain, for some reason.

“I understand. We must hold him blameless then. That is a hard pill to swallow, but what tradition forces upon us. I shall explain this to the others, so no one will feel a need to seek retribution.”

Moving to the door, Anders didn’t really understand what he was going to do next. The story had to be close to reality, for it all to match up. Otherwise it would be too transparent. That or fall apart almost instantly. Farad, being older and wise in many ways, figured the plan had to fall to pieces almost instantly. Agorn would deny his role in things, and Daren, being a good man, would admit his own part in it, to protect one he saw as innocent of the crime. Even if it meant his own death.

Daren Willet was a sturdy man, after all.

Which would make sense to others. Alice had to have worked it out already, having all the facts.

It was possible to control a man’s mind, even control the words from his mouth, using magic. Anders simply didn’t know how to do that kind of thing. Depak might have been able to do it. There had been hints of that kind of thing, from Princess Aisla. Which did him no good, since there wasn’t enough time to arrange anything, if the man would have done that for Daren, at all.

The only thing to do, would be to prevent Agorn from talking to anyone about it at all. Short of killing the man, ruthlessly, in the next moments, he doubted he could do that. He might have been able to cripple his throat or mouth, but he didn’t have the needed words for it, since that kind of thing had never come up at all, so far.

Sighing, he moved to the hallway.

“Thank you, Ambassador Fromet. I’m glad to know that this won’t lead to war, between our peoples. If we could not spread this around? To protect those who are innocent of wrong doing...” He didn’t have to wait, the other man simply bowing. Anders did it back, using second courtly, to show his respect for the man. One willing to eat the death of his Assistant, to prevent a war.

Daren and Agorn left Depak Sona’s rooms, pushing the cart between them. Daren looked miserable, but as if he was trying to be professional, regardless of the hardships he’d been bearing up under.

Ambassador Fromet was behind him, about five feet back, when Anders called out, walking directly toward the two serving men. Daren shied away, cowering, as if a beating was about to come.

That was ignored.

“Agorn!” His voice was stern, loud and hopefully sounded real. “Ambassador Fromet and his people understand what you did and why... and forgive you for it. You acted to protect the honor of your friend, Daren. We, the kingdom of Istlan, cannot allow murder, even given your good intentions on the matter. Not like this. I’m sorry. I must pass judgement on you, in the name of the King and his kingdom. Justice must be served.”

The man looked at him, confused and angry.

“What are you going on about, you stupid bastard?” He had the grace to make a face after that. One that showed he knew that he’d spoken the wrong words and that there would be a price for it.

It was the last thing he could say, as a low thumping noise came from inside of his chest. A small explosion, which might have ripped another man apart. That it didn’t showed the man had a partial immunity to magic, which was interesting to note. About a third of all people did, though, so it wasn’t that hard to imagine it happening. Anders looked at his opened right hand and put it down, before the older serving man even fell to the ground. Gasping for air which wouldn’t come. He didn’t die peacefully, gasping and clawing at his own throat for several moments. There was no sign of how he died on the outside, except a small, bloodless bulge over his heart.

Other people came out into the hallway, as the guards came at them, one from either end. The one who knew what was going on stared at him. Seeming uncertain. That showed in that he glanced at Daren.

“We found out that Agorn poisoned Natan Smidt. Trying to get revenge for what happened with Alice, since Daren couldn’t act, being a good soul. This will end it, even if it’s a sad way for things to go. We won’t have war, at least. I’m certain that we don’t need to speak on this too openly. There are delicate feelings and death involved.”

The guard from the far end of the hallway, the one who had heard the conversation earlier, simply nodded.

“Right. Agorn there admitted to it, before he died. I heard him say it, loud as day. You did too, didn’t you, Daren?”

The boy froze, wide eyed, not speaking at all. Ambassador Fromet however, nodded.

“I, too, heard that. This man, who is now passed, said that he acted to protect his friend, this man here, Daren Willet. Without any foreknowledge on his part.”

Depak Sona had come from his room, as had Duma Sett, they both looked at the man on the floor, who was no longer gasping. He looked peaceful, Anders decided.

Daren tried to stammer the truth. Anders waved at Depak then.

“Could you take Daren to your room for now, Ambassador? This must be a huge shock to him. It would be best if he not speak on what he saw, until his wits come back to him. He just witnessed a good friend of his die, after all.”

That wasn’t even a hard sell. Agron was an awful person, but hadn’t hated Daren, in particular. True, the man probably wouldn’t have killed to protect the boy, but it was a good enough story to tell others. Murder was a crime, but this would allow everyone to think that only Agorn was guilty. They’d mainly miss that the actual killers, Daren and Anders, were still walking around free.

Looking at the guard, the one that was lying for him, he made a face.

“Can you have this taken care of? The body. I’ll go and report this to the King, if I can. He’s probably at the late meal. I could wait?”

The guard snorted at him.

“Do it now, even if you have to wait on his pleasure. This is too important to sit on. Run now and do that. I have this here.”

Anders did it, jogging away. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but figured that he could find someone to take a message in to the man, directly. Instead of that happening, he found the man himself directly outside the main dining hall, standing in a clutch of bodies. He saw Anders there, dressed as he had been earlier, and waved him over.

“Joining us for the meal, Master Brolly?”

“No, Your Majesty. I was set the task of finding the killer of Natan Smidt. I have and the murderer is dead. Put to death by my hand, to the satisfaction of the Modroc Ambassador, who heard his confession of the crime, as did one of the hall guards there at the time.” He waited, expecting the man to have him whisper the name or perhaps go to another room to speak of it.

Instead the man nodded.

“Quick work. Who is the culprit?”

“A serving man of some repute here, Sire. Agorn Stergis. He found out that... There was a personal matter, with another servant, and a relationship that was made dire, due to pregnancy, involving Assistant Ambassador Smidt. Agorn acted to protect his friend and fellow servant. This is acceptable, if not desirable, to those of Modroc. I removed Agorn myself, acting under your word. I hope that was not overreaching my place as investigator. Ambassador Fromet would have allowed him to live, but we cannot condone the murder of our friends and allies.” He sounded wrong, and as if he were leading the ruler to think a certain way.

Which he was. It was, in fact, painfully obvious to him that was the case.

King Mathias simply nodded, closed his eyes and put his hand on his shoulder and held it. Hard, but not painfully.

“That is painful to hear of, but perhaps understandable. It was good that you acted quickly, instead of allowing a good man to suffer in pain and fear of what had to come from our hand. It had to be done. Now, you could dine with us?”

Anders shook his head, then sighed.

“Thank you for the kind offer, Sire. Unfortunately, I need to see to some small matters, before I can rest and dine.” One normally didn’t beg off of such honors, but the man simply nodded at him. Then spoke loudly enough that it was obvious he wanted to be heard.

“Very well. Thank you for your service this day, Master Brolly. It is a dark thing, but done in a timely fashion.”

Then the man moved inside the two heavy wooden doors, followed by the near hundred others, all dressed in finery. Anders was still in mail and gambeson, which looked out of place there. Several people stared at him, including his mother and walking next to her, her father, the Baron. The man broke free, coming over to Anders, with a strange look on his face.

“Those papers have been signed and copied. I’ll have a set delivered to you, tomorrow. What took place here? I fear that I’m not up on the comings and goings of the castle as I should be.”

Anders nearly didn’t say anything, tired of the man already, but he was, it seemed, family. The bad kind that wasn’t worth having, but still, related to him. So he explained, quickly.

“I was placed in charge of finding a killer and did. They’re dead.”

The other man nodded then, as if that truly explained anything at all.

“I see, I think. Very well. We should meet, before you leave for Barquea. Get to know one another. I’m almost certain that those who have spoken of me to you might not have been favorably disposed toward my cause.”

Anders could see that one.

“Well, you did try to kill me, so that’s probably a simple truth. A mistake though, clearly. People can change, so I’m willing to listen to you. Later though, if it serves? I truly do have some things to see to, before I can eat.”

That got a nod, and a bow, which he returned. The Baron walked away then, allowing Countess Rainly, who was hanging back, her dress a soft white with pink and red roses hand stitched into it, moved in and taped him on the shoulder with a folded fan.

“My chambers, after the meal. Don’t forget. It’s important.” The last bit was nearly hissed, it was so urgent seeming.

Then she left as well, trying to catch up to the others who were already being seated for the meal. Anders went back to Depak Sona’s room and knocked gently. Daren was still there, drinking some tea that it seemed Depak had gotten for him. It was unsweetened, from the scent of it.

Daren looked up at him.

“You killed him. He didn’t... You know that I...”

Anders didn’t bother hiding anything from Depak. He’d probably been told the whole thing as Daren knew it, already. Besides, he’d already explained what Agorn being found guilty would mean.

“We stopped a war. True, killing you would have done the same thing and it was possible that they might have accepted your reasoning for your actions, without your death being required as payment for it. Ambassador Fromet seemed willing to do that. Now, don’t kill anyone else. Killing is wrong and you aren’t an evil person. You’re more important here right now than Agorn was, in case you ever wonder why he died for your crime. You have to make certain you earn the life he bought you.” He sounded hard and cold.

It matched how he felt.

Depak Sona watched him, closely, until Daren left, about ten minutes later. After being told to never, ever, speak of the topic again.

When he left, the older man sighed and sat back down, having gone to the door.

“I worry for you, Anders. It is a hard thing, to kill like that. Most would be feeling more than you seem to be. Is that the impact of Farad Ibn Istel on your soul, do you think?”

He shook his head and spoke softly.

“I do not think so, Depak. I really don’t. I think that the part of me that lacks care for others is me. Anders. I fear that without Farad, I would be a monster. Someday, at least. Except... Clearly, I’m one of those already. Perhaps you should have killed me, those months ago, when you considered it.”

He wondered if it was a thing that they should revisit, given everything. Where Anders Brolly went, death seemed to follow, any longer.

Depak Sona didn’t agree with him, but he also didn’t respond at all.

Chapter fourteen

Anders felt slightly bemused, walking out of Countess Rainly’s room as he was. The meeting hadn’t taken long and despite how she’d presented things, the woman had simply tried to give him coin. A decently large chest of it, in fact. Though, the woman had hinted that she, bodily, might be on offer instead, if he preferred. Or, if he wanted, as well. That had been a trap, of course.

After all, if he turned her offer of company down directly, it could be seen as a rejection. On the other hand, if he took as much coin as she was offering, in payment for the work he’d done when she was ill, then everyone else he’d aided would, or at least could, be held to that same standard. Princess Peri could have paid such a fee, for her daughter, but not for the servants there as well.

In the end he’d simply bowed to her and suggested they use the coin to send things to the front. Goods and armor, for those levies who couldn’t afford such things, normally. The woman had chuckled at the idea, but allowed it was a good way out for him. She had seemed a bit hurt that he didn’t want her, until he’d explained that he had orders from King Mathias and Prince Robarts, as well as a few others, to avoid such things until he was older. Again. He’d mentioned that to her before, but for some reason the woman seemed to be reassured by him that it was his real reason, not that he found her lacking in some way.

That had allowed him to remove himself from her room without making an enemy, at least. True, now he had to come up with several wagon loads of armor and probably weapons for people, as well as hire a driver or two, who might be willing to take such things to the front with winter approaching, but that could, he assumed, be done, if he hurried and asked the right people.

The next morning he rose early, not planning to go in to the fletchers shop, just yet. After all, while he needed to do his part there, he wasn’t certain if his time might not be as well, or better, spent making up some armor first. He wouldn’t be able to fit it individually, of course. Besides, even if he might not be a welcome sight in the Ambassadorial hall that day, after the events of the day before, that didn’t mean he could fail to show up.

Anders tapped on Depak Sona’s door first, figuring that he, at least, would speak to him. When it opened, the man looked a bit annoyed.

“Ah! Anders... Could we meet later in the day, do you think? I...” Before the man could finish the statement, Duma Sett pushed past the fellow, grabbing Anders up in an embrace. One that was friendly, instead of hostile as he might have imagined, after murdering a man on her very doorstep like he had.

“Master Brolly! We were just plotting, in regards to you. Come in. If that suits, Depak?” She was dressed for the day, as was the Master Magician. Both were in finery, though in the lady’s case, it was a simple gown that glowed with an ethereal light, due to illusion being used.

Depak’s clothing wasn’t as impressive, being a robe made of silk, with a complicated pattern woven into it. Those looked like flowers, made out of gold and silver thread. The difference was that the clothing Depak wore, if taken off, would stay the way they were. Duma Sett’s outfit would, after some time, revert to normal.

Anders was dressed in silver mail, his gambeson changed to look a nice yellow color. A thing that seemed out of place, perhaps, being a bit too much like the colors of Yanse. That had more of an orange hue though. What he wore was meant to simply seem happy, even if he didn’t feel that way at all.

Bowing to both people, being important like they were, he stood and then entered, not waiting for Depak to explain that he was trying to have a secret meeting. Apparently one where his name had come up.

He grinned at the Duma, since she’d always gone out of her way to be kind to him.

“Now, plotting? Against me? That sounds like an adventure, doesn’t it? Do you need your rooms cleaned? I should see to that. Daren might not be up to the work today. I think I frightened him yesterday. That hadn’t been my intent. Things don’t always go to plan.” He tried to seem ashamed of himself, over the death that had taken place. At least part of him, the old man inside, honestly felt that way.

Anders, the boy, was actually just glad that Agorn, who had once angered him, was gone. On the good side, even he could see it as going beyond what was good or right.

The lady nodded then, seeming a bit sly, as she looked at Depak from the side of her eye.

“Yes, rather. Master Depak is taking you away to his homeland, where you are a Prince? That’s a rather heady thing to place on offer, isn’t it? I was trying to work out how to bribe you over to the side of Modroc, instead. Eltha has rather failed at seducing you. At least that she’s been willing to tell me about. Is there anything you want? I’ve wracked my brain for months and haven’t come up with anything at all. It's most frustrating. How are we supposed to influence you, if you don’t want anything?”

He blinked at the idea, but then realized she was correct. Not that he truly didn’t have any needs at all. It wasn’t as if he were still a monk-like historian that lived in a literal cave, dug into the stone of a mountain side, in the dry lands of Istel. Those old habits, the simple way that he’d lived an entire life, had influenced him greatly, it seemed.

For instance, he didn’t understand coin still, as a concept. Even the trading he’d done so far in this current life had mainly been him watching as others had done the work. Part of that was a lack of concern over worldly things, such as wealth, of course. Farad just didn’t understand why people would bother with such and Anders had never learned to be truly greedy, always having enough provided to him.

Looking at the woman, he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t worry too greatly, as for my new found position as royalty. Doesn’t the Sula have something like a hundred grandchildren?” He glanced at Depak, who still had short hair on the sides of his head, being well and truly bald on the top. His mustache was thick, but still tidy and well groomed, rather than flowing past his mouth on the sides.

After a moment, seeming amused by the concept, the man let a grin come to his face.

“Oh, at least that. Perhaps more, by now. When you have forty children, that kind of thing tends to happen rather rapidly. Though I’m nearly certain that the plan is not to woo you to our side, directly, but rather to impress Prince Alpert with our fellow feeling and openness that way. Then, through him, to gain favor with the King here.”

Frustrated, the Duma waved her hands.

“I know! What do we have that way? Princess Sweyn is doing well enough, with the younger Prince, I suppose. He’s been gone for months, though. I heard he saw combat, on the front of the war here? He wasn’t injured, was he?”

Anders blinked, then simply told the truth.

“He was in the thick of it, several times. He’ll have a nice scar on his face from it, where a blade managed to get up and under his visor, but there was no real damage done at all. Other than bruises he was untouched, otherwise.”

The woman leaned in then her gaze almost stern.

“I also heard that you were there, in the fighting. The hinting there was that you did rather more than wave a pointed stick at the enemy. Can you tell us of that? No one else will, for some reason. Only that each of those battles were won by Istlan.”

They locked gazes for a moment, as it became clear, eventually, that he simply wasn’t going to speak on the matter. She snorted at him, after a long while.

“Fine, then. I can see that pressing you on that topic won’t work. If not, then how about that tale you concocted yesterday? That some unknown servant killed Natan? Not that it wasn’t a real enough point. I’d heard about what had taken place with the serving woman, Alice. The man had been imprudent that way. That can end in death, even for those of high stature. Still, why would this fellow have killed him? Is he a relative of Daren Willet? A fast friend in some way that I don’t understand?”

He nearly lied, since the story needed to stay straight and aligned in a certain way. He was simply too tired to be bothered at the moment, so he shook his head.

“No. I simply didn’t like him. The man looked down on me, for being a bastard. It was a hostile thing and he’d hit me once, not that long ago, pretending it was an accident. So, instead of killing Daren for what he’d done, I placed the blame on an innocent man, to get rid of him. Ambassador Fromet had seemed willing to let the matter go, regardless, but this way Daren might be allowed to carry on with his tasks here.” Unless Duma Sett required Daren to die for his actions. That could happen, of course.

From behind him, near the closed door, there was a soft gasp. Anders closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing, and dropping into a trance. It was clear, as soon as he bothered to check, that Mistress Colm stood there, invisible again. This time he tried to figure out why she was there. The feeling was one of spying, but without vast purpose to it. She didn’t seem violent at least, which was good. He probably couldn’t beat a dagger to the neck, if she caught him unaware. No one there would be able to, most likely.

No one else seemed to pick up on the fact they weren’t alone, which was odd. Except that everyone there was probably a bit off their game, thanks to what had been going on in the last days and months.

Anders did pick up something interesting, which was that Daren had gotten the poison from her. It made sense, given there were only a few places for a castle servant to get that kind of thing from. He didn’t call her out, since that could look like King Mathias had set her to watch the foreigners. As far as he knew, that simply wasn’t the case at all.

Since there was no danger, he took a deep breath and blew it out, puffing his cheeks up a bit.

“I know, I probably shouldn’t cover up who the real killer was like this. Daren is a friend of mine though. Agorn was probably as close to a personal enemy as I’ve ever had. At least among people who let me know about it. Now, I’m planning to send some mail and gambeson to the front, along with some other goods. For the levies? They really aren’t prepared for winter. They need cloaks and warmer clothing. I was hoping you could go over some things like that with me, Depak Sona. My skills there are fairly basic, so far. If you have any ideas for that, let me know, Duma Sett?”

The words got a sour grin from the lady. She was pretty enough, really. Her face looked youthful, and didn’t sing of it being magical in nature at all. Her look was darker by far than the ladies of Istlan, who were fair to the point of being pale, by comparison. It left her with an exotic air there, he supposed. She had pretty eyes, which were a dark brown color.

That and her current expression left her seeming playful, instead of mean.

“The only way I can help is to come up with clothing and goods for men stuck off in a frozen wasteland? You do know that I’ve never even seen this mythical snow that I’m told is coming, do you not?”

Anders could commiserate there. He’d seen it, of course. It was in his memories. Farad never had. Not even once in his ninety odd years of life. Then, he was from far closer to where these two came from than the boy inside of him was.

Standing, he bowed.

“You said you were looking for ways to win me over, not that it had to be easy for you. Now, I need to go and see if Ambassador Fromet and the others here require my head for killing a man in front of their doors like I did, yesterday. That... I should have managed the situation better. The truth is, I couldn’t give Agorn a chance to declare himself innocent.” He waited then, for the people in front of him to pass judgement upon him.

They both did, though in different ways. Depak seemed honestly disappointed, though he was hiding it fairly well. Duma Sett merely nodded, as if she fully accepted that Anders would back his friend over a man he didn’t like at all. Even if he’d managed to be half insane about the idea.

He walked to the door, bowing himself out, being extra polite. When he passed Mistress Colm, he let his right hand move out, pretending to add a flourish to the move. Instead he caught her by the arm and tugged once, sharply. Then continued moving. She stopped for a moment, he thought, then pressed into him at the door, so that she could leave with him.

Once the door, a sturdy thing made of heavy wood, carved with a simple, but refined design, Anders whispered.

“Walk with me. You have some time before the invisibility fades?”

He moved away, and was two halls down, away from any guards, when the woman answered.

“About half a glass. It isn’t that precise, but I get some hours, in the normal course. I have a counter potion of course, which takes a few moments to work, after consuming it.” There was an almost imperceptible sound, like a gulp, but Anders didn’t think she’d consumed poison or anything. Either that potion or more of the kind that allowed her to be unseen.

He nodded at her, or at least where her voice had come from.

“That’s handy. I should get you to teach me how to do that kind of thing. Work with herbs and potions like that? If I don’t have to have you killed first, of course.” He grinned. “By the way, everyone here knows you’ve been doing this for some time. We have wizards about, after all. Master Tolan worked it out the very first time you were in his presence and then kept a watch on you ever since. He probably even knows who your master is, or employer. I haven’t gotten that yet, but I’ve been distracted by other matters. Well, you heard this latest mess, in there. With Daren? You gave him the poison, didn’t you?”

She made a sound that seemed almost sassy, compared to the soft tone of even a moment before.

“Hmph. Yes, almost certainly. He came to me for a sore tooth, some months back. The potion I gave him for the pain and to help him heal will kill if you have more than a few drops a day. He knew that, since it was too dangerous not to tell him about it. If he kept even a portion of the bottle I provided, and gave it in a drink to that man... Well. That would do it. I suppose it’s possible it wasn’t that, but what else would he use? Many of the best remedies can also kill, which is a risk of my kind of magic. Everything has drawbacks.” She waited then, as if for him to keep the conversation going.

A thing that wasn’t kind of her, really. Anders had no clue what to ask her, other than what he had.

“So, who are you working for? Ganges? The King of Yanse? My mother?” The last was a jest, but the woman inhaled so sharply it kind of gave things away.

When her voice came the tone was a bit sharp.

“You know? Also, I’m no traitor. Yes, I’ve collected some information, in return for certain favors, but I wouldn’t work for our enemy like that. I don’t know anyone named Ganges. That’s a southern continent name, isn’t it? Is he one of the Modroc?” There was a pause then. “If that’s a man’s name. I mean no offense, if it isn’t.”

Anders shrugged, his face a bit bemused, he had to figure. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the information he sought from the mind of the invisible lady next to him. It was, as she’d claimed, all right there. Lyse had been working with her, using her skills to spy on others there, where she couldn’t be. Trading sexual favors with the woman to get her to bring her bits of information that no one else could get.

He could have pretended to be shocked, but his mother had flat out told him that women approached her for such things. In a way that he’d understood at the time meant that she did them. Pretending it was a scandal now would be a waste of his time and energy.

“Fine then. You can’t spy on the King, Queen, or Prince Robarts any longer. Not using your magical skills. If you manage to gain information from them otherwise, well, that’s part of their work, I have to imagine. Everyone else is fair enough game, of course. It probably won’t work on myself or Master Tolan. I’ll be reporting this to the King, so I wouldn’t try that one again.”

There was a strong inhalation then.

“I’ll be killed for it.”

He rolled his eyes, then smiled.

“Will you? I notice that you’re managing to breathe pretty nicely still, even after months of pressing into the wrong places. Really, if you go to Prince Robarts and suggest that you might be open to working with him as well, I have to think you’ll be safe enough. Do it carefully, of course. Make an appointment and be visible at the time. Also let him know who I said you can’t spy on? Now, you’re seeing Master Belford? How is that going?” It was possible that she only liked women, in which case it wouldn’t be going well at all.

She giggled a bit then. It was eerie, since no one was standing there, like a shade or spirit of mirth had descended on the dim hallway of gray stone. There was light through the long slit windows, but the sky was gray that day, making everything dim and gloomy.

“Nico is a nice enough man, isn’t he? Attractive and clean, which are two of my favorite things. We’ve been discussing marriage. I suppose that will go away now. It’s a shame. I need to marry soon anyway and have no other prospects in particular.”

Anders shook his head at that idea.

“Well, if you get with Robarts, see what he suggests that way? You may be surprised at his response, if you’re truly interested there. Now, I should go and do... Something. I don’t want the Modroc to think I’m avoiding them, after what I did. Oh, if you could keep that quiet? I don’t want Daren to get into trouble.” He could see that she might think to blackmail him using that, so he smiled. “I don’t have to mention that, though, do I? I don’t want to make threats, since so far we haven’t had anything like that between us.” He stopped then, since even one word more would be that threat he was trying not to make.

After a moment, there was a sigh.

“Heh. Well, I can’t agree with letting a murderer go like that, in the main. Still, I understand how he could have been pressed to the action. If he does it again, it’s on you though, you realize that, don’t you?”

Anders, feeling incredibly young just then, closed his eyes. After a moment, he spoke with a voice that sounded half dead.

“I know that. I just have to imagine that a few more bodies tossed on the pile of thousands that have died by my hand won’t really make much of a difference. I don’t know if you’ve ever caught your reflection in a puddle of water or a looking glass and noticed a monster regarding you from it? I can’t recommend the experience, if you can help it.” He walked away then, since it felt like the right thing to do.

Then, he didn’t reflect on what he’d spoken of, until later in the day, after several hours of working out what kind of cloaks, armor and weapons the levies at the front would need from him.

The amount of materials needed would be vast, of course. He’d need to sell part of the armor that he had for it. True, plate was more valuable than mail and gambeson, but outfitting bowmen with that kind of thing wasn’t going to work at all. A knight could use a bow in full armor. Poorly. Mail didn’t get in the way of the use of a war bow at all.

After the mid-meal, wearing a heavy blue cloak, his gambeson altered to match it, he found Prince Alpert and his mother at his chamber door.

The Prince clapped him on the shoulder when he opened the door.

“Anders! It’s time for that ride, if you have the time? You seem well dressed for it. Is that a new cloak? It seems quite fine for winter wear.”

The man reached out, as if to touch the fabric, but hesitated, as if asking for permission. Anders presented the edge of it. His mother didn’t ask, merely doing the same thing, her lovely face impressed when she felt the layers of quilting and how thick it was.

“That is very well made. Did you have it commissioned?”

He took her meaning, since it was a good bit nicer than anything else he owned. Even the gambeson was sort of plain, compared to it.

“I made it. Countess Rainly is shipping some goods to the front and I was thinking of doing the same for the levies there. It’s going to be cold soon.” He glanced at both of the people there, closed his door and walked with them, since there was a ride in the offing, to condition them for their trip to come.

They made small talk until they were actually on horseback, riding a trail into the forest behind the castle. There was a guard patrol there, but they were often alone for long stretches of time.

His mother shook her head at him, finally.

“Countess Rainly has too much interest in you. She’s not the most evil of people here, but go carefully there. Being too involved with her will almost certainly lead to you being in her bed. She’s past the age where a child will come of it, at least.” The words weren’t jesting at all, just matter of fact and rather too calm.

“I put her off, for the moment. I have orders not to get involved that way. Though King Mathias did mention putting forth a marriage with the daughter of a baron from Yanse, in an attempt to heal the rift between our lands.”

Lyse made a choking sound at the words, and Prince Alpert... Smiled.

“That probably won’t work, but it was mentioned in the meeting last night. It would be worth the doing on their side, even if it doesn’t end the war. They already offered that land and wealth, to have you removed from the field of battle. Father is suggesting to them that they up the offering, if they wish to woo you to their side.”

Anders nodded at the words, since, even if it were said for the humor of it, he had no doubt that Yanse would be told all of what was being said.

“Oh... Mother... I had a nice long talk with Mistress Colm earlier today. She was most impressed when I figured out that you were the one getting her to spy on everyone. Is that for... Baron Brolly, or for you Prince Alpert? I told her that she couldn’t spy on the King or Queen any longer. Prince Robarts, either. If that ruins any plans... Well, then change them.” He sounded a bit short, but managed a smile for the people with him. Starting a fight would aid no one.

The Prince went wide eyed, and then made a soft sound in the back of his throat, like he might just be choking on a laugh.

“Ah. Well, your mother was working with me on that one. So, that’s done then, in part. A shame, really. Nico seems to be doing rather well with her, as far as I’ve been hearing.”

It took Anders a few moments to realize that Nico was the name of Master Belford. A thing that he’d heard before, but only a few times.

He simply shrugged.

“I sent her to Prince Robarts, if she doesn’t flee the castle. I also mentioned she get his opinion in that direction. She seems a kind enough woman. One with her own profession, even. She would make a good wife, I think, given that.” Even if she loved women.

Then, the two things had very little to do with each other. Marriage was a duty. Love was a thing of the heart.

No one mentioned that portion of things, but he didn’t doubt that they all understood them. The others much better than he did.

“Now, you wanted to speak to me about something? I think that most of the major points are taken care of, for the time being. I have work to see to, but that’s just what a man must do.” Not that he was one of those. Except, of course, that in many ways he truly was.

Prince Alpert nodded, looking straight ahead.

“Yes. There has been some mention of those you had to kill, in battle, for our kingdom. Your mother and I have both wondered if you are all right? Inside your mind, that is.”

Lady Lyse nodded.

“You also had to kill that fiend, yesterday. It was well done, since it prevented another conflict, where one isn’t needed. I truly had that one figured incorrectly. I’d thought it was the Yansians, to be truthful. Not one of our own servants. Still, Agorn was Alice’s cousin, so one can see how he might respond that way. She’s not with child, as it turns out. Either lost, unknowing or she never was. Being late can happen to women, after all.”

If she knew more of what was going on, it didn’t show in her words. Anders, for his portion, was merely honest with them.

“My mind... My soul, perhaps, has been affected by what was done in battle. Outside of it, too. I fear that I might be a monster now. Still, I’ll weather this. It will, I think, be nice to go and visit another place for a while. Also, I have some business, down on the other continent.” That was, most likely, where Ganges had hidden himself, or herself as the case may be at the moment, away.

Prince Alpert nodded, his face going dark for a moment.

“Are you ready for that, do you think?”

Anders shook his head.

“I’m not. Not even close. Still, it does no harm to take a look around and figure some small matters out, if I can get closer to the heart of the situation. The truth is that I may never be the equal of Ganges, the Great and Terrible. From what I’ve heard he was and still is, one of the greatest magic users in all of history.”

Lyse furrowed her brow, her horse moving forward a little, in response to some hidden signal from her. She clearly rode very well. Much better than Anders did, to be honest.

“Ganges? I’ve not heard the name.”

Anders could see that. The King and his sons knew of it. So did Master Belford and Captain Ford. Anders hadn’t told his mother about that situation, however. It seemed no one else had either. The Prince stiffened then.

Anders didn’t really care about that, so told her the truth.

“The enemy who is likely behind these current wars and hostilities. He, or she, is behind much that had affected us all, I think. In another life, Ganges was my student and friend. It was he who placed the mind of old Farad in that crystal. I remember him doing it, as if it were no more than five months ago. I think, as strange as it may sound, that he was as close to me as a son would have been. Now, perhaps corrupted by time and madness, he seeks to rule the world. I must try to stop him, if I can. As I would have to do if my own child became a monster that would destroy the world.” As they might have to do for him, one day, if he wasn’t very careful.

They rode for a long while then. No more questioning or speeches being in the air.

After some hours, they all headed back inside the castle, to ready themselves for the journey that lay ahead. Anders sighed as he settled to his work table, thinking about what was to come. Not the journey itself, though he didn’t doubt it would be interesting. Possibly informative, as well.

He just considered the work he needed to do, all that had to be arranged, first.

Then he settled in to get that done. What portions of it he could, before they left.

Afterword

You may have noticed that the world is changing. That the way we have to do things now is very different than it was even five years ago...

To that end, I’d like to request you take a few moment (please!) and check out my Patreon page. I know, why should you support an author directly, if you buy their books already? (Or why support if you get them for free, from certain places online?) Well, I think that you might find the “gifts” on Patreon to be worth it, outright. Besides, a dollar that goes to me through that venue is worth ninety-seven cents to me, where a book purchased is worth about half that, if I’m lucky.

Mainly though, it’s that you can control what you are doing. Even making a donation to a person directly, to support their efforts is bypassing the gatekeepers and exercising true power over the situation. Regardless of why you help, it truly does!

https://www.patreon.com/pspower

Thank you! What you do counts!

P.S. Power

Table of Contents

- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- 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