A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  “… conclusion that they might be the same,” the countess said, sounding excited. Iltar stopped and listened. What was she talking about?

  “That’s intriguing!” Pagus blurted.

  “Makes me wish I had gone with them,” Elsia said, sighing.

  “I’m sure you can go visit it later,” Pagus reassured her. “And this way you won’t have to go through any of the grueling dangers of exploration.”

  Elsia chuckled. “Oh, Pagus…”

  Once the conversation ceased, Iltar knocked twice and then strode inside. Pagus sat in an oversized chair beside his aunt, who lounged in her own throne-like seat turned partway from her desk.

  Elsia smiled at him as he entered. Iltar found it odd to have a woman smile at him like that. Sure, Belsina smiled at him, but he was her employer. Belsina was obligated to smile.

  “Had enough fresh air?” Elsia asked, putting her elbow on the desk.

  “One can never have enough fresh air,” Iltar said, pacing the cabin. It was quite large, about the size of the parlor were all the acolytes were relaxing. “Some ships were sighted nearby, all heading north.”

  “We should be close then,” Elsia said, running her fingers through her hair. “I was just telling my nephew here about a theory I have been musing upon.”

  “Oh?”

  Elsia looked at Iltar with a wry grin, pursing her lips. Iltar learned that expression meant she was not pleased with him. It was not quite exasperation, but it was close to it. Damnation, what would it have been like to be married to this woman? No wonder the count was willing to let her come along.

  “You said that Krindal was searching for an ancient Order,” Elsia said. “I think the Chosen are that Order.”

  That connection had crossed his mind, but Iltar had dismissed it. Reflection hadn’t mentioned them being one and the same.

  “Nothing to say?” Elsia asked.

  “It makes sense,” Pagus chimed in. “The Keepers title conveys the same responsibility as the Chosen. A select group of men, meant to make sure everything stays right. I bet that’s why our world has regressed, as Krindal put it—”

  “Master Krindal,” Iltar interrupted. He would ensure Pagus used proper titles.

  Pagus rolled his eyes, “Yeah… Uh, where was I? Oh! Without any Keepers or Chosen to maintain things, society crumbled. That would explain why the prince is so interested.”

  What an interesting theory. Although, it probably wasn’t correct. Pagus was jumping to conclusions without all the facts.

  “You’re not convinced,” Elsia turned back to her desk. “That’s okay…” Was she sulking now? Women, Iltar groaned.

  “I have everything prepared for your acolytes,” Elsia said, rising from her chair with a stack of sheets in her hand. “I included your questions, as well as detailed breakdowns of what we have discovered.” She handed the papers to Iltar.

  He took them, perusing their contents: twelve sets, one for each of his acolytes.

  “I already gave my nephew his copy,” Elsia said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest before we moor.”

  * * * * *

  That afternoon, Iltar stood at the bow with the boys. The acolytes gazed eagerly toward the horizon at the majestic city of Mindolarn. Towers rose into the sky all around the city, higher than Iltar had ever seen in the human realm. They were probably lookout towers. Two of the towers were in the ocean, on either end of the port. Walls connected the towers to the land, hemming the port.

  Much of the city’s terrain was hilly, which raised Mindolarn considerably above the ocean. Except for the towers, the city’s skyline didn’t look too different from other cities across the world.

  “Amazing!” one of the boys exclaimed.

  “Look, is that the palace?” another cried, pointing.

  Iltar followed the acolyte’s gesture. A shallow, red-brown, domed structure stood atop the highest point in the city; it was surrounded by several towers like those around Mindolarn.

  “Probably,” Iltar said.

  “Do you think we can visit it?” Bilda asked. The boy held tight to the rail, just as he had done earlier that day.

  “I doubt they’ll let us tour it,” Pagus said, folding his arms. Bilda frowned. Several of the other boys murmured about Pagus’s answer.

  “This place sure is busy,” Agen said, noting the vessels that were moving toward the port. The Yaelinum had been joined by dozens of other ships sailing for Mindolarn.

  Distinct footsteps—from a woman’s boot—clicked across the high deck behind him and the boys. Iltar glanced over his shoulder as Countess Elsia approached. She was dressed in a pair of women’s trousers and a plain blouse. Her light-brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and her face bore hardly any makeup. Elsia didn’t look aristocratic in the slightest.

  “Enjoying the view?” she asked the boys.

  “Yes, ma’am,” several replied in unison. Others just nodded, still gazing across the bow. The acolytes continued staring at the city as the Yaelinum veered westward, following the other ships. An acolyte shouted to one of the sailors, asking where they were going. The sailor replied that all ships coming into Mindolarn from the sea flowed into port from the west while all departing vessels left along the east.

  The Yaelinum drifted close to the western tower in the ocean. At this distance Iltar had a better view. It rose to what he guessed to be twenty stories. The wall that connected it to the city was eye level with the Yaelinum’s high deck—which was four decks above the waterline.

  “So where are we staying?” Agen asked.

  “I have a friend that will give us lodging,” Elsia said while eyeing the bridging wall. “She has a guesthouse that is big enough for all of us.”

  The young acolytes gasped; probably surprised at the implication that the guesthouse could fit them all. They undoubtedly expected that each would have their own room. Iltar knew better. The acolytes would probably be squished into a couple of bedrooms. Iltar and the countess would be the only ones not sharing a room.

  Iltar raised an eyebrow at her. “I was planning on renting some rooms near the Hilinard.”

  “She’s not too far from there,” Elsia said, not looking at Iltar. Was she still upset about his reaction earlier? Women…

  After an hour of sailing through the port, the Yaelinum moored at the end of a long stone pier far more extravagant than the wooden piers in Soroth. Lightstones imbedded into ornate stonework lined the pier, with gold-plated reliefs of a seven-headed hydra between berths. Deckhands scurried about the high deck, furling the sails and securing the lines.

  “We should get moving,” Elsia said, then gestured for Iltar to follow. “I suggest we leave the boys here,” she said, waiting for Iltar. Once he was near, Elsia intertwined her arm with his.

  “Why?” Iltar glanced to her arm, not amused.

  “It’ll be easier to get a carriage for two,” she said, guiding him across the deck. “We can send for them in the morning.”

  Leaving Pagus alone overnight? That struck Iltar as worrisome.

  “My nephew will be fine,” Elsia said, gesturing with her freehand to the boys still at the bow. The acolytes were watching the sailors lower the gangway. “I’ll instruct the servants to keep everyone aboard. They’ll see to it.”

  Elsia obviously didn’t know her nephew as well as she thought she did. Iltar could easily imagine Pagus slipping away, using his abilities to make an illusion of himself to stay aboard while invisibly sneaking off the boat.

  “You don’t approve?” Elsia asked as they descended the stairs.

  “I think you underestimate Pagus’s sense of curiosity.”

  “Do you mean mischief?” She grinned. “I’m not naïve, Iltar. And you don’t need to hold back with me.” They descended another flight of stairs and wound their way through the ship’s corridors. “The servants packed your things,” Elsia said. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want your time with the boys interrupted.”


  Iltar drew his lips to a line. He didn’t like anyone touching his things.

  Elsia laughed, patting his shoulder. “Iltar, Iltar… you’re going to need to accept others doing things for you. You are—by association—a member of the higher echelons of society. I had heard of your grandmaster’s need to control every facet of his life, but I didn’t expect you to be as bad as he is.”

  How dare she compare me to—

  “Your Excellency.” A servant stepped up, drawing Iltar’s attention. The man bowed to Elsia. “I have ordered a dockhand to fetch a carriage. Yours and Master Iltar’s trunks are waiting on the pier.”

  “Thank you,” Elsia said, bowing her head. She looked to Iltar and asked, “Shall we wait outside?”

  “Kildath shall fall in one day. The Tower shall vanish before the glorious power of the Chosen.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  The ride through Mindolarn was quite interesting. It wasn’t laid out in a grid like Soroth. Many of the roads followed the terrain, weaving around hills. Most buildings they passed were made of stone, of what stone Iltar couldn’t tell. The buildings looked like they might have been transmuted, but most transmuted structures would collapse after the mage who formed it lost his concentration.

  Each road they traveled was more affluent than the last. They hadn’t passed through any of the poor parts of the city, of course. The coachman driving the carriage knew his passengers were important people, even though they were dressed simply.

  Darkness settled upon the city as the carriage came to a halt.

  “We’re here,” Elsia said, gazing out the window. She had since put on more makeup and braided her hair since leaving the docking district. Elsia looked like herself; at least the self Iltar was accustomed to seeing. Even throughout their long nights of research, Elsia had looked her best.

  The door opened, and the coachman stood nearby, hand on the door. Elsia exited first, carrying a small bag, then Iltar stepped down to join her. The carriage door shut behind Iltar as he eyed the home belonging to Elsia’s friend, the High Duchess Alanya Tasivir. It was massive. This wasn’t a home… it was a mansion!

  A fence made of dark-orange stone and wrought iron surrounded the property, spanning several city blocks. The mansion—which was set back from the fence—was made of the same orange stone and rose five stories in some spots. Another building, about the size of Cornar’s country home, was off to the left—most likely the guesthouse.

  The coachman removed Elsia and Iltar’s trunks and set them before a pair of guards standing at a gate in the wall. Each guard wore an elaborate red coat adorned with fanciful patterns over red-and-brown leather armor. Side swords hung at their waists, sheathed in black scabbards.

  “I am Countess Elsia Scurn of Sarn,” Elsia said, approaching the guards. The guards bowed and then opened the gate. They must have been expecting her. How, Iltar didn’t know.

  One of the guards entered the grounds while the other stooped to grab Iltar’s trunk.

  “I’ve got it,” Iltar said, extending his hand. Wordlessly, the man turned to the countess’s belongings.

  Elsia sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Iltar, I thought I told you that—”

  Iltar held up a finger, then began an incantation. White-gray light gathered in his hand, and then shot to the trunk, lifting it into the air. It hovered at waist height.

  With his spell finished, Iltar grabbed a handle and dragged the trunk through the air. Elsia’s eyes widened, and she looked impressed. “You were saying?” Iltar asked smugly. Elsia shook her head, fighting a smile.

  Soon, more guards joined them at the gate. They had undoubtedly been fetched to help with the luggage. Each started upon seeing Iltar dragging his trunk through the air.

  “Come with me, Your Excellency,” one of the guards said. He led them down a wide stone walkway toward the mansion. They entered a towering portico, held up by off-white pillars. Colorful stone vines wound up each of the pillars. At first glance they looked to be real, but once Iltar was closer, he could see the vines’ stone texture.

  Another man stood near the mansion’s two-story doors. He was of average height and wore a fancy dark-orange coat with white tassels. “Welcome, welcome!” the man said. “I am Hazais, the high duchess’s butler. You are Countess Elsia Scurn of Sarn, I presume?”

  “I am,” Elsia said as she curtsied.

  “And this is your bodyguard?” Hazais asked, pointing to Iltar.

  “Yes.”

  Oh right. The whole lie. Iltar had nearly forgotten about the ruse. Elsia hadn’t mentioned it since their first meeting.

  Hazais studied Iltar for a moment with pursed lips and a raised brow. Iltar didn’t look like a bodyguard. Cor would have been more believable, he thought. Cornar’s physique was more imposing than Iltar’s. Perhaps I should have worn an illusion, he thought, chuckling inwardly.

  The butler abruptly shot a glance beyond Iltar, where his trunk floated. “Ah… a mage,” Hazais said, nodding. “A wise choice for protection, Your Excellency. Please, come in.”

  Guards opened the two-story doors, and Hazais ushered Iltar and Elsia into the mansion. They entered a foyer that was at least double the size of Iltar’s living and dining room combined. Suits of armor lined the walls between archways and hallways.

  “Follow me,” Hazais said, walking to the right. “I will inform the high duchess of your arrival.” The butler stopped at an archway leading to a parlor that could seat thirty. The parlor was lit by extravagant lightstone sconces and a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.

  Elsia entered the room briskly, and Iltar trailed behind her, leaving his trunk hovering within the archway. The butler instructed the guard to set Elsia’s trunk near the parlor’s entrance.

  A thud echoed between the rooms, followed by fading footsteps. Iltar and Elsia were alone in the parlor. The countess walked to one of many couches and sat primly upon it. Iltar, however, roamed the parlor.

  “Are you playing the part?” she asked, fighting back laughter. Iltar looked to Elsia. She had her hand to her lips, smiling deviously. Was she mocking him?

  “No,” Iltar answered, and continued walking around the room. He was simply admiring the room’s detail: deep coffered ceilings, walls with colorful scrollwork. Paintings hung on the walls as well, and those intrigued him. Most were beautiful landscapes, except one. Iltar started upon seeing that remarkable scene, then picked his way across the parlor toward the peculiar painting.

  “Impossible…” he muttered.

  “What are you whispering about?” Elsia asked, sounding playful.

  Iltar ignored her and focused on the painting. Seven figures lay prostrate upon a glassy ground before a slender man in a red robe. The man in red stood with his hands outstretched, looking up at a yellow sky and surrounded by a black aura. An elaborate crown with seven curved points, ornamented with crimson jewels, hovered above him. Above the crown hung a blue sun, its pale-blue light beaming through the crown and highlighting the centermost prostrate man.

  “Reflection…” Iltar whispered. “In Vabenack…” But who are these seven? Curious, Iltar stepped closer to the painting, searching the red robe for any symbols. But there weren’t any. Iltar examined each of the prostrate men, but he couldn’t see any detail on their faces. Their hair color was their only distinguishable feature. The center one had blond hair. The others were varying shades of brown and black.

  “Iltar…” A hand pressed on his shoulder. Turning around, Iltar found Elsia staring worriedly at him.

  “What?”

  “You weren’t answering me,” she said, removing her hand from his shoulder.

  “Sorry,” Iltar said dispassionately and returned his attention to the painting.

  “Do you suppose that’s the Messenger of the Promise?” Elsia asked, pointing to the man in red. Iltar didn’t answer. He continued to marvel at the painting. Those details are too perfect to be a coincidence, Iltar thought, looking for an
ything else that might prove enlightening.

  “Elsia!” A woman’s voice rang from the foyer. The unmistakable clicking of Elsia’s boots filled the parlor as she spun and crossed the room. Both women exchanged greetings, sounding like excited girls sharing a secret.

  Women… Iltar rolled his eyes, still studying the painting.

  “Iltar, come here,” Elsia urged.

  Sighing, Iltar turned around and started upon seeing the high duchess. By all that’s magical, he gasped. Alanya Tasivir was tall and slender, with a mature but lovely face. Olive skin accented her braided brown hair. Golden jewelry contrasted with her striking emerald eyes. The gown she wore would make most women’s dresses look like rags. Despite the elegant attire, she looked Sorothian. She was… she was breathtaking! Iltar couldn’t help but stare at her.

  Alanya grinned playfully at Elsia, then looked Iltar up and down. She turned away from him and focused on Elsia.

  “Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” Elsia said, waving her hand in a placating gesture.

  “That’s a horrible trait for a bodyguard,” the high duchess said with a chuckle.

  Elsia laughed, clapping her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, and then ran her hand through her hair. “I mean, in other ways.” What did she mean by that?

  The women moved to the couches and resumed their conversation. Iltar stared at Alanya as she seated herself with perfect poise. She’s tantalizing.

  While the women conversed, Alanya glanced to Iltar several times, but always redirected her focus to Elsia.

  Got to stop staring. Iltar gritted his teeth and spun around. Focus on the painting.

  “Do you like that painting, Master Iltar?” the high duchess asked.

  Iltar turned slowly. “It is interesting,” he said. “Does it have a name?”

  “The Calling of an Emperor,” Alanya said. “It’s supposed to be Emperor Mindolarn’s divine appointment by… I don’t remember who.” She chuckled and waved her hand negligently over her shoulder. “Some important figure in Cherisium.”

  Alanya resumed talking to Elsia but Iltar interrupted them. “Do you know where this scene is supposed to have taken place?” Elsia turned to him, surprised at his intrusion.