A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  Iltar dwelt in his reverie until the carriage came to a halt.

  Elsia exited first, speaking with the driver about their intentions for their visit here at the Hilinard. They would be staying until the boys arrived, and then he was to return and retrieve them. High Duchess Alanya’s mansion was only a short ride from the Hilinard. Iltar thought it to be two or three grand phineals away.

  Iltar grabbed a small pack full of notes and The Codices of Soron Thahan. He stepped out of the carriage and was taken aback by the grandeur of the Hilinard. Was everything here in Mindolarn so fantastically massive?

  A building shaped much like the palace rose before him: round, with a shallow dome for a rooftop. Red-brown stone covered the exterior. White galstra columns lined part of the building; they looked decorative. Statues of men in robes—carved from the same white stone—lined a walkway leading to the building.

  Elsia hurried down the walkway, not waiting for him.

  Iltar followed her, but glanced about the grounds. More buildings were nearby, each with similar architecture. The Hilinard and the other buildings were atop a wide hill and overlooked the city. Iltar could see the bay in the distance. The moored ships looked like tiny specks.

  Several steps led up to the Hilinard’s entrance, a three-story doorway with the doors opened. They looked heavy and were probably moved by mages.

  Elsia strode ahead of Iltar, swaying her hips as she entered. Sunlight spilled into the rectangular foyer from windows on either side of the opened doors.

  Iltar slowed as he entered, eyeing the floor. His scholar-friends had mentioned that one of the symbols on Reflection’s robe was in the floor. But there was nothing here. The floor consisted of squares of sparkling gray galstra. He finally reached Elsia, who was speaking with an attendant dressed in a white robe.

  “… Royalty from Sarn. That should afford me some leniency.”

  “I’m sorry, m’lady,” the balding attendant said. He was a short man with a large mole on his cheek. “But the tribute is the same for all people. Not even the aristocracy of the empire can negotiate the price.”

  Elsia sighed and stepped aside, letting Iltar join the conversation. “He’ll be paying.” She folded her arms and ignored the man. Snooty woman.

  “As I was telling her,” the attendant gestured to Elsia, “you will need to pay tribute to access the records held here in the Hilinard.”

  “That’s fine,” Iltar said, opening his pack. He had exchanged some of his Sorothian coin with Alanya’s treasure keeper. Normally, Iltar would have stopped at the docks to exchange his money, but Elsia insisted they head straight for the high duchess’s mansion after leaving the Yaelinum. That proved fortunate, as the treasure keeper didn’t charge him any fees.

  “It will be five schigarins,” the man said.

  How much was that? Iltar raised an eyebrow at the man. He should have paid more attention to their currency system.

  “Do you expect me to know how much that is in your currency?” the attended asked.

  “I have your coin,” Iltar said, removing five round coins. They were made of gold, with a side-profile depiction of a man on one side and the empire’s seven-headed hydra symbol on the other.

  “Thank you,” the attendant said, handing him a green token. It was about the size of his palm, with a triangular symbol on one side. “Return this to one of us when you leave. At least one attendant is always at an entrance.”

  Iltar took the token without a word and walked with Elsia through the foyer, passing other patrons and attendants in white robes.

  “Alanya thinks we should rent an alcove,” Elsia said. “Do you want to spend the money?”

  “How much is it?” Iltar asked as they stepped up to a black monolith with a map of the Hilinard etched in stone. The lines of the map were glowing a pale-blue hue.

  Taken aback, Iltar raised an eyebrow at the map. He thought at first that the stone surface was a slab with holes, lit by lightstones placed within a cavity behind the slab to illuminate the map, but that wasn’t the case. This wasn’t light from a lightstone. It was too uniform, not to mention that the lines were shallow grooves in the stone, not holes. Was this some kind of tevisral?

  Iltar studied the map, which consisted of seven floor plans, one for each of the floors of the Hilinard. Tiny text was inscribed within many of the floor plans, denoting topics of study.

  “I suppose I should learn to wait to speak until you’re facing me,” Elsia said. Had he missed something again? Probably the price of the alcove.

  The countess stepped around the monolith. She opened her mouth to speak but gawked at the monolith’s other side.

  “Iltar, there’s more to the Hilinard than this building,” she said, gesturing for him to come close. He complied. Another map was on the rear side of the monolith. On it several outlines denoted the various buildings Iltar had seen from outside. Six other buildings were connected to the one where they stood, each about the same size. There were also a dozen more scattered around enormous compound. Descriptions within each of the outlines detailed the topics of study.

  Elsia slid her finger across the stone and came to a menu etched beside the map of the complex. It had general subtopics listed below the names of each of the buildings. “I think you’ll want this wing in the center,” Elsia said. “Religion and Philosophy.”

  Iltar read each of the subtopics: History of the empire and Sociology, Battle Records and War Strategy—They have an entire building devoted to war? That surprised him. Other wings included various sciences—mathematics, biology, physics, and chemistry—and their applications, various topics of magic, and lastly literary fiction.

  He felt a poke against his arm and turned to see Elsia’s finger wrinkling his sleeve. “That got your attention!” she exclaimed, sounding like she had just made some great discovery. “I’ll do that when I need to talk to you. We should make our way to the center wing, the one called Religion—”

  “I heard you the first time,” Iltar said. He took one look at the map, then walked around to the front of the monolith. Three lines protruded from the floor plans. Small script beside each indicated to which wing the hall led.

  Looks like we take that corridor. He looked to a circular hallway not far from the monolith. According to the map, it wrapped all the way around the building. A well planned layout, he mused. Iltar hated buildings with deliberately elongated paths. Those were all too common in Soroth.

  “This way,” he said, pointing to the curved hall lit by white lightstones.

  * * * * *

  Iltar decided to rent an alcove in the Religion and Philosophy wing of the Hilinard. The alcoves were arranged around the edges of all the floors but the first. Those on the second floor were the most expensive, with those on the seventh being the cheapest. Being a frugal man, Iltar decided to rent a spot on the seventh floor. He and his acolytes would be running to other wings, so Iltar didn’t think the distance between the second and seventh floors would make too much of a difference.

  His alcove was nestled partway into the dome ceiling. It was large enough to fit two chairs and a table. Shelves lined the upper parts of the alcove, undoubtedly meant for books and scroll cases. Two empty sconces meant to hold lightstones or candles were aligned with the chairs. One of the attendants said that they would have to provide their own lightstones; too many people had walked off with them in the past.

  A wrought-iron gate was folded along the right side of the alcove. When closed, the gate signified that the patron did not want to be disturbed. Iltar and Elsia had passed several alcoves with their gates shut and their tables full of books and loose pages.

  Iltar stepped up to the wrought-iron gate and examined a lock with its key stuck in it. He took the key and slipped it into his pants pocket.

  “What do you want to search for first?” Elsia asked. She leaned back against the table, her hands gripping the edge.

  “I want to start with something called the Will,” Iltar said. He tur
ned from the alcove, moving to the nearby railing. This hall containing the alcoves wrapped all around the seventh floor, like a balcony looking down into the rest of this wing of the Hilinard. There weren’t many books up here. A few platforms with bookshelves stood in the center of the space, accessed from bridges connected to this circular hall.

  Sunlight shone from a ceiling made mostly of glass secured within red-gold framing. That allowed ample sunlight to fill the wing during the day. It was quite intriguing to see a glass ceiling. There were seven tiers to the ceiling’s framework. Mindolarnians and their obsession with seven.

  And then, he saw it.

  One of the symbols—the same which Kilan claimed seeing here in the Hilinard—was at the top of the glass dome in the form of golden trim. The trim looked fused into the glass. It had a jagged triangle with two points wider than the third. Seven eight-sided stars were arrayed within its interior, with six around a central one. It was, however, lacking the three lines beneath the triangle.

  “Are you okay?” Elsia asked, poking his shoulder.

  “Yeah…” Iltar muttered.

  Elsia sighed. “Well, we’d better start grabbing books. I doubt we’ll be able to do much reading before the boys arrive.”

  “The Harbinger will confront the Beast. He will stand alone against him, slaying him in a mighty battle. But the Beast’s death will not be lasting.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  Nearly eight days had passed since Cornar and the others had left the village of Klarin. The trek had been uneventful thus far. They had traveled southeast for a time, following the course of a river that emptied into a bay near Kretin. Now, the expedition was traveling along the central mountain range, moving northeast between a river and a forest.

  The path they were traveling was made mostly of dirt, but occasional protrusions of stone marked the path’s edge. Krindal and several scholars thought them to be ancient markers for a road buried beneath the path. A few scholars wanted to dig to see if they could find such a road, but they hadn’t had the opportunity.

  All in all, the trek was leisurely. The Isle of Klindala was quite beautiful this time of year, not to mention the fall temperature was perfect for traveling long distances. The forest was quite colorful, unlike those in Soroth which had mostly trees with yellow and orange leaves. Cornar took note of a few trees with purple and pink leaves. He had not seen many trees like that.

  As evening drew near, Kaescis called for the expedition to halt. The prince had spotted a grove beside the path where he wanted to set up camp.

  The six hundred or so Mindolarnian men and women erected their campsite swiftly. The Mindolarn encampment was like a tiny war camp, set up in three ringed tiers: the soldiers’ ring, the officers and servants’ ring, and the Royal ring.

  A few-dozen paces from the Mindolarn camp, Cornar directed his band to set up their tents. From the outside, it would look like two different groups camped together. Cornar’s was a tenth the size of the Mindolarn encampment.

  Years ago, Cornar had established a standard layout for his band’s camp: a fire pit in the center, with two rings of tents facing the fire, staggered so that each tent door could easily access the central part. They had fifteen tents set up, eight on the inner ring and seven on the outer. Each tent could comfortably hold three men, although it could accommodate four in cramped fashion.

  Cornar had a tent to himself. Usually, he shared the tent with Iltar. Camping without him felt odd the first few nights, but Cornar was now getting used to sleeping alone.

  He hadn’t had any more dreams since Kaescis’s arrival in Klarin. Since that first night on the road Cornar actually wanted to go back to that strange dreamland. If the dreams could tell him about this quest, he needed to experience more of them.

  After everyone was settled, Cornar surveyed his campsite. Ordreth and Sharon were cooking a stew over the campfire. His nephew loved to cook, and he had quite a talent for it. Cornar wondered if Ordreth would have chosen the life of a chef if he hadn’t gotten into adventuring. Sharon constantly teased him that the only reason they were still together was because of that talent. Of course, there was more to their relationship than that, but it was a running joke between them. Ordreth kissed Sharon as he stirred the pot. She smiled coyly and stepped away to get more ingredients.

  Many of the other warriors were seated around the campfire, talking about the trek or gazing at the evening sky. The sun had already passed the mountains beside them, but they could still see the effects of the sunset over the peaks. It was a beautiful sight.

  Cornar rounded the common area of the campsite and went straight for the opening that led to the Mindolarn encampment.

  “Where are you going, Cor?” Nordal called.

  Cornar stopped and glanced back at the man, who was playing Sharzen with a few other warriors. “To meet with Kaescis. They’re looking over maps tonight.”

  Nordal nodded and returned to playing. Several others heard Cornar’s reply and watched as he exited the camp.

  The Mindolarn camp had two entrances, one leading to the road and another to Cornar’s band. Soldiers guarded both entrances at all times, taking shifts so everyone could be rested for the next day’s march. Cornar nodded to them as he entered, but the soldiers didn’t reply.

  Once inside the camp, Cornar passed a tent barrack that could hold fifty men. This particular barrack was beside the spot where they had gathered all the wagons beneath a cloth pavilion. Another barrack flanked the wagon pavilion on the other side. There were other clusters like this set up across the camp. Even the horses had their own tent-like stable with barracks beside them. Cornar wondered why they didn’t use picket lines… it seemed a waste to erect covering for the horses.

  Several servants rushed past Cornar and into the wagon pavilion, grabbing foodstuffs. He glanced at them but continued through the camp along the outer ring. He finally came to the entrance to the second ring where the officers were lodged. The chefs’ station was also in this middle ring.

  A sweet aroma of cooked meat tingled Cornar’s nostrils. Several soldiers had spotted a pack of wild animals at the forest’s edge earlier in the day. He knew they had ventured off but didn’t know if their hunt had been successful. The aroma answered that question. The creatures—called deer by the Mindolarnians—were a little gamey for Cornar’s liking, but the meat wasn’t bad. They kind of looked like horses, but the males had wicked, vicious-looking horns. Cornar imagined squaring off with such a creature, head-to-head. One would have to be good at dodging to evade the beast’s attacks.

  “Excuse us!” a voice yelled behind Cornar.

  He turned, noticing the same servants who had passed him. They ran by again, carrying bags of supplies, hurrying off the opposite way Cornar was headed.

  Soon, Cornar passed an open tent door and glimpsed the scholars from the Order of Histories. The Mindolarnians hadn’t accounted for the scholars when planning the encampment, so the scholars were lumped together with the various servants. The tents were brimming to capacity.

  Cornar heard a few of the scholars complaining, and Jahevial stalked out of the tent, noticing Cornar as he passed.

  “There’s still room in our camp,” Cornar said, slowing his walk.

  “I might consider that,” Jahevial said, clutching his robe. It looked like he was holding something under it. Cornar narrowed his eyes to get a better look, but Jahevial hurried off, moving toward the entrance to the war camp’s outer ring.

  Soon, Cornar came to the entrance of the innermost ring, where two Crimson Praetorians stood as sentinels. They looked to Cornar but didn’t speak. The Praetorians knew they were to allow him entrance, but both kept a watchful eye, vigilantly searching the war camp, although there was no sign of danger. But even if there were, the soldiers at the outer ring would sound an alarm.

  Cornar strode through this third opening and entered the center of the encampment, where the Royal retinue was lodged. Several more Crimson Praetorians marc
hed past him, circling an enormous tent with various parts: the Imperial Tent. Cornar had watched them set up this place on the first night. It consisted of a central tent and three smaller tents, all joined together. Each of the smaller tents had their own purpose. One was a war room, another a chapel, and the third was a common room. Kaescis’s chambers were in the central section, at the cluster’s heart. Cornar hadn’t been inside, since a pair of Crimson Praetorians always stood watch. They allowed entrance to only Kaescis and his two friends, Laeyit and Bratan.

  Other tents composed the Royal ring: a few mid-sized tents for five, used to lodge the Crimson Praetorians, the tents for the grand marshals, and some for Admiral Kaetet and the other ship captains.

  Once Cornar arrived at the entrance to the Imperial Tent, a Crimson Praetorian lifted the tent flap, and Cornar slipped inside.

  As one would expect, the Imperial Tent’s interior was a bit ostentatious. From what Cornar could tell, the tent had three layers to its walls: an outer layer made of water-resistant material, another layer of a thicker sturdier cloth, and the inner layer made to look like fine tapestries. The inner layers looked like the walls of a palace. Some parts had picturesque scenes woven to look like paintings hanging on a wall. It was a little much…

  Cornar hurried through the tent’s foyer and turned a corner, walking along the tent’s outer hallway. A faint conversation reached his ears, but Cornar couldn’t tell what was being said. He didn’t walk far before reaching the war room. Two more Crimson Praetorians stood watch while another pair marched through the tent’s hallway.

  Thus far, Cornar had passed a third of the Crimson Praetorians assigned to the expedition. These men were ever vigilant to protect their prince. More were probably stationed throughout the camp. That meant half of the Praetorians were on duty. They must switch off during the night, he thought. That didn’t give much time for sleep. But this part of the camp was always struck the last. Perhaps Kaescis let them sleep up to the moment of disassembling their tents.