Fondaras the Wise,
Footwizard of Alshar
“Your Majesty, may I present Abbess Pleasure, of the Vorone Temple of Ishi,” I introduced, as Ishi preened for the king. I took some guilty pride in the act; as goddess of love and attraction, Ishi was inherently subject to one of the greatest forces in feminine sexuality: status. And there are few higher positions than a sovereign king over millions of subjects. Ishi gushed like a schoolgirl.
“Your Majesty, it is the greatest and most serene honor to make your acquaintance,” Lady Pleasure cooed. “Welcome to Vorone, home of wildflowers and frolics!”
Rard looked good – better than the last time I’d seen him. I suppose it is impolite and impolitic to reflect on the state of your monarch’s health and fitness, but Rard was the most important man in the Five Duchies, at the moment. His health was the sort of thing a good wizard paid attention to.
His hair was still long, though trimmed at the shoulders. The golden hue had taken on more of a silvery aspect, in the last few years, and there were furrows in his cheeks and brow that had been carved into his face by the plow of fate. But there was also a calm resignation, a possession of himself, that I found encouraging.
“Lady Abbess,” Rard said, nodding his head in a way that was an acknowledgement, but not quite a bow. “I’m always delighted to see the clergy support my daughter and her husband in such a splendid manner,” he said, with practiced efficiency. I wondered how many asses of the senior clergy he’d had to kiss, over the years. He seemed really good at it.
“We have always supported His Grace in his rule over Alshar, Your Majesty,” she assured him. “He is a young and vital lord. He has made a very passionate match with your daughter,” she praised. “Countless blessings of love and passion be upon them,” she added, along with a flamboyant display of Ishi’s holy sign over her abundant boobs.
“Yes, I’m certain I’ll have another grandchild soon,” Rard agreed, patiently. “My lady abbess, could you excuse me and Count Minalan for a moment? I have an urgent matter to discuss with him, a matter of state.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. If you need me, I’ll just be over there,” she added, unnecessarily.
“Ishites,” Rard said, shaking his head with a sigh. “Pretty, and I admire their devotion, but . . .”
“Say no more, Your Majesty,” I chuckled. “I’m thankful you rescued me. What, may I ask, is on your royal mind?” I smiled.
“Am I that transparent?” he laughed in return. “I suppose I am. In truth, I was originally coming merely to celebrate Anguin and Rardine’s return to Vorone. A bit of a lark, really, an excuse to get out of the palace. But, then . . . well, Minalan, Tavard came to me. With a letter. And a tale.”
“Oh,” I said, lightly. “That.”
“Yes, that,” he chuckled in return. “I was very amused, actually, once I understood what had happened. Not that I approve,” he cautioned. “Tavard was in error, in sponsoring a war with you while you were in exile. That contradicts the customs of the duchy of Castal. A man can be sent into exile, but he cannot be further punished with war.
“But my son is . . . persistent,” he sighed. “And you turned that persistence into opportunity, I see now. Had he asked my counsel, I would have advised against the idea at the start.”
“I have no doubt of that, Your Majesty,” I assured him. “I hold you blameless.”
“But instead of being cowed by the defeat of his plans, Tavard is incensed at your response. All the more so for its eloquent sarcasm. I fear that he might take further impetuous action, if provoked,” he added, warningly.
“Your Majesty, I have no desire to fight the Duke of Castal,” I answered, sincerely. “I have done little to provoke your son, before this. And it was the impetus of his own action that convinced me to take advantage of his misplaced ire . . . and funding. I had need of troops,” I reasoned, simply. “He was good enough to provide them.”
“Yes, so he was,” Rard said, laughing again at the impertinence of the move. “But I would like assurance that you will not respond further to him. I have already spoken to him about this; our kingdom needs no vendettas, when we face the challenges that we do.”
“Sire, I am about to journey into the wilderness for a few months,” I informed him. “I shall not even be around to respond, should he provoke me. Nor do I take offense at foolishness when the security of the kingdom is involved. I am more than willing to write off this episode as the indulgence of youthful energies.” I did my best to sound like the voice of mature wisdom. Considering my opponent, it didn’t take much.
“I know, Minalan,” Rard sighed. “But be careful, when it comes to Tavard. I may not be around to rein him in forever. I know of your power, and your importance to the realm, but he has a different policy.”
“I will take it under advisement, Sire,” I assured him. “My goals lie beyond mere secular power. I go into the unknown to seek answers in how to preserve the kingdom and sustain our world. A petty feud does nothing to further that goal. I will not seek retribution for Tavard’s efforts,” I promised.
“That is a relief to hear,” the king said, sincerely. “In truth, Tavard has become a burden to the crown, not a support, of late. Tragedy and misplaced blame have conspired with poor counsel. Failure has compounded his will to act, to prove himself. He bridles when even his mother attempts to advise him these days. He listens only to his wife, and . . . others.” It was increasingly apparent that his Ducal Court was filled with opportunists and flattery. That was a common mistake a young monarch could make. Thankfully, Anguin seemed to have more of a level head than Tavard, and he heeded wise counsel.
“If he spares the Magelaw and Sevendor his wrath, then we have no quarrel,” I said, as reassuringly as I could manage.
“But I will caution you, Sire: it is not me, alone, that need concern you. The Magelords of Vanador know what Tavard did, through the auspices of the Count of Nion. They take issue with it as unfair, an abuse of his power, though it served me in the end. They are a reasonable nobility, and follow my cues in most things. But they are also potent in their own right and used to following their heads. I will keep the magi calm, but Tavard must soothe the knights of the realm against further rash action against us, lest matters spiral out of control.”
“Aye, I’ve said as much to my son,” Rard nodded with a sigh. “Perhaps your absence from the affairs of the kingdom for a time will give him other distractions to concern himself with. Farise, perhaps, or Merwyn. Wenshar is always an issue,” he shrugged. “I don’t know, Minalan,” he confessed. “I’ve done my best to prepare my son for the throne. But he resists the dictates of wisdom and my guidance at every turn, it seems. He sees statesmanship as secondary to power. And he feels entitled to that power, despite my constant lectures to the contrary.”
“Yet your daughter has drunk from that fountain in abundant quantities,” I said, nodding toward the smiling duchess. “Alshar thrives, since her wedding. Perhaps she will rule Castalshar, one day.”
“I can’t say it would be the worst thing, my legacy be damned,” he admitted. “She’s smarter than her brother by half. But she must be content with Alshar,” he said, shaking his head. “She has a beautiful realm, here.”
“It is the only one I hear she desires,” I agreed. “She is happy, from what I can tell. Anguin is a good man, and a good duke. More importantly, he is a good husband. He holds her to account, and she values that. She takes her responsibilities seriously. She has become devoted to Alshar, and the duchy to her.”
“It is good to see,” he smiled, fondly, at his daughter. “Out of the shadow of her mother, she blooms. And Anguin is, indeed, worthy of her. That was a wise move on your part,” he acknowledged, quietly.
“It was Ishi’s whim, more than anything,” I shrugged. “Honestly, it was the last thing I expected. But then no matter how subtle the wizard, life continues to be full of such surprises. It keeps things interesting,” I offered.
&nbs
p; “So it does,” agreed the king. “Ah! I think my daughter and son-in-law are finally done with the processional. Perhaps now we shall have a moment to talk.”
“Is there some particular matter you wish to discuss with Their Graces?” I asked. “Perhaps matters of state concerning my realm?”
“More that I miss my girl, and ponder the possibility of grandchildren,” he confided. “The palace is just not the same without her.”
“I have no doubt, Sire,” I said, with absolute sincerity. Rardine had abundant faults. Being boring was not one of them.
I was privileged to watch a far more casual greeting of father and daughter than the officious introduction of the processional. Rardine hugged Rard’s neck like any daughter to her beloved sire, and I could tell that Rard genuinely returned the affection.
“This was quite a surprise, Your Majesty,” Duke Anguin said, bowing deeply. “And an unexpected honor.”
“What’s the point of having a court wizard if he can’t magically transport you to your daughter’s party?” he asked. “I love the castle, Anguin,” he added. I committed to passing that along to Carmella, who had designed and built the castle in a mere two years. “It’s a dramatic improvement over the old palace.”
“It suits me, more,” he agreed, looking around at the grand surroundings. “And it suits the Wilderlands better. I honestly enjoyed ruling from Vorone,” he admitted. “Things were a lot simpler, then. So, how is the queen?” he asked.
We chatted informally at the edge of the ballroom, for a time, and I reflected on the importance of family in matters of the nobility. Rard and Anguin chatted like any father-in-law to his daughter’s husband, with the same mixture of concern and pride that my dad had demonstrated to my brothers-in-law over the years. Rardine was eager to prove herself to her father by extolling her accomplishments in her new life. And Rard, while proud, also held a wistful demeanor as he recognized that his little girl had moved along in her life. There was little solace for him but grandchildren, now.
But then I was drawn back into the conversation, rather abruptly.
“It’s unfortunate that Count Minalan will not be here for the summer,” he said, shaking his head. “I have the most magnificent tournaments and entertainments planned. I do hope you will attend a few, Uncle? Count Marcadine has pledged to be here. He has already proposed a grand hunt through the edges of the Penumbra, where it is said the game now lies thick.”
“I don’t hunt much anymore, nor have I been allowed to raise a lance since I took the coronet,” he admitted. “But, with magic’s aid, I should be able to attend a few parties, this summer. Trygg knows I go to enough at the capital. And, of late, in Wilderhall.” The way he said it spoke volumes. I wasn’t the only one to pick up on it.
“Where Tavard the Moody yet reigns,” nodded Rardine. “Has his new palace not been completed yet, Father?”
“He keeps changing the design,” Rard revealed, with quiet frustration. “He’s driving the engineers mad with new ideas. It may be years before he returns to Castabriel. And the longer it takes, the more gold it costs. When he does have business there, he rules from one of his estates, instead of visiting the city. It’s troubling, to see a duke eschew his rightful seat,” he frowned.
“Many in Alshar would agree,” Anguin said, a subtle dig at his captivity in Castal after his parents’ assassination. “I’ve always found it wise to entrust such decisions to those who have the expertise, and then support their efforts without much criticism. Hence, this glorious new palace. And the wonder I hear Vanador has become,” he added, giving me a nod. “I plan on touring the place, this summer. Baroness Pentandra insists upon it.”
“We are rightfully proud of the City of Wizards,” I smiled. “I hope you can find your way there, one of these days, Your Majesty. It is unique in your realm.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, with a grin. “I find I’m growing used to these magical Ways of yours, Minalan. And the Mirror Array. They both have much improved the functioning of the kingdom. I look forward to more such useful wonders.”
“It is our pleasure to provide them,” I agreed. “Shall we chase down the butler? I’m finding myself thirsty.”
“How did your discussion go with the king?” Alya asked, that evening once we’d returned to Spellgarden and settled in for the night. “And the other nobles? I barely saw you tonight.”
“It went well,” I admitted. “I told Rard I wasn’t planning on going to war with Tavard, after his proxy attack. And Anguin approved my treaty with Ashakarl, although he was nervous about it. I explained that I’ll have to contend with the consequences, either way. Marcadine and the Lord Steward of Vorone agreed with me that we’d prefer Alshari sovereignty for Gilmora to Castali . . . but we’re not willing to do anything about it, just yet. All in all a productive evening.”
“Good,” Alya said, as she donned her nightdress. “Pentandra introduced me to fifty women whose names and positions I’ve already forgotten. The duchess was lovely,” she considered. “And there were a few of them I recall, favorably. Viscountess Threanas. Lady Pleasure. Some of them were very nice. But some of them were just . . . mean,” she said, condemningly.
“It’s a ducal court,” I shrugged, as began taking off my itchy court clothes. “Regardless of what people are wearing, deception and competition are always the style. But Pentandra says you did very well,” I praised.
“I mostly just kept my mouth shut and smiled a lot,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy court functions. I prefer the milking sheds.”
“You’ll have better conversation,” I chuckled. “I was wondering how you felt, though,” I added with some concern. “I know that after the commotion at Anguin and Rardine’s wedding . . .”
“Oh, I suppose I am fine,” she said, after a moment’s consideration. She retrieved her brush and began working it through her hair. “Or, at least, I’m growing more used to useless things like official court functions. I didn’t have any flashes, or moments of dumbness, or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. The Handmaiden has really helped,” she observed. “I still don’t feel . . . right, but then I don’t feel entirely wrong, either. That’s progress.”
“That’s progress,” I agreed with a sigh. “Are you certain you want to go on this journey, tomorrow, Alya?”
“If I don’t, I’ll be going to a lot more useless court functions this summer, and that I cannot abide,” she said, shaking her head as she brushed. “No, you’ll just have to endure my company while you’re hiking through the wilderness, this time. Lilastien said I was fit to go,” she reminded me. “Indeed, she said it would do my constitution well.”
I winced at that. I had secretly hoped that the Sorceress of Sartha Wood might find some good and compelling issue of health that would preclude Alya going with me. Quite the contrary, she approved the exercise wholeheartedly. Alya was as healthy as a woman her age could be, the good doctor had informed me.
“Besides,” she continued, “I couldn’t put the children through all of the wailing and crying today for nothing.” While Alya’s native sense of maternal feeling had not quite returned, she’d been far more attentive to the children and their welfare of late. I wish I could credit the Handmaiden for that – her treatments were, indeed, going very well. But it would be more honest to recognize that the blessing of Bova, the Goddess of the Kine, was likely more to blame. Alya’s sense of duty to her children had returned since the blessing.
“I’m sure they will be fine, after we’re gone,” I soothed. “They will get to play with Pentandra’s girls while we’re gone, for one. And Alurra. They love Alurra.”
“Yes, she was telling them what the cows were thinking over at the byre, today,” Alya chuckled. “They’re absolutely fascinated!”
“It’s good for the children of the magi to experience a wide range of magic,” I nodded, as I pulled my own nightshirt over my head. “There’s no telling how their rajira will become expressed w
hen they reach maturity. And if they have rajira.”
“I sometimes think things would be less complicated if they didn’t,” she sighed. “Look at how troubled poor Ruderal is with his Talent,” she pointed out.
“And look how enriched Alurra is by hers,” I countered. “If she didn’t have her little animal friends, she’d be just another helpless blind girl.”
“That girl is anything but helpless,” Alya chuckled. “But I take your point. I suppose there’s no way to determine if it will be a blessing or a curse until it gets here.”
“No, there’s not,” I agreed, as she put her brush away. “In fact, I’ll confess a little nervousness about going somewhere where magic doesn’t work. I’ll have to depend entirely on my wits.”
“Then you’d be doomed, if I didn’t go with you,” she teased, as she crawled into bed. “Really, magic is all you have.”
“Wealth!” I playfully protested. “Power! The undying admiration of my friends and family. I have a lot going for me,” I said, with mock defensiveness, as I snuggled in beside her.
“All of which came from your magic,” she countered. “Min, I know we wouldn’t be going to this place if we didn’t have to. I just don’t really understand why you have to.”
I heaved a manly sigh. Or my best attempt at one. “There might be answers there. There will be answers there,” I corrected, “just perhaps not the ones I’m seeking. But I do need to go,” I insisted.
“And I do need to go with you,” she agreed. “Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. Pentandra is worried about you going,” she added, after a pause. “Not enough to try to stop you. But she’s worried, nonetheless.”
“She worries about me too much,” I dismissed. “Doesn’t she have enough to worry about?”
Footwizard Page 7
