A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

“Over here,” Teviz said, moving to a table along the portside bulkhead.

  Solidin stepped up beside the captain, eyeing a map of Kalda. Where are you? On the run back to the ship, Solidin could feel a yearning that pulled him southward. Solidin could see the Isle of Dalgilur in his mind. A vision had been burned into his soul.

  Is this how the Ancient Keepers found their way? he wondered, remembering a passage from one of the books discovered by the Aristocracy. It claimed that a Keeper could always navigate back to their Order.

  Solidin stared at the map, visualizing a three-dimensional version of it. In his mind, he soared across Kalda, searching for the island. He veered away from the Mainland, following that internal pull. Not Acheylon, he thought, shaking his head, referring to the smallest continent located near the center of the map. Dalgilur was farther south; he could feel it. The ocean sprawled in his mind’s eye. Solidin passed island upon island, but they were not Dalgilur. Soon, he came upon an island partway between the icy continent of Abodal—known by men as the Abodine Wasteland—and the continent of Kresh’dal, a forbidden land.

  The yearning subsided as Solidin visualized the island. This was Dalgilur.

  “There…” Solidin pointed to the ocean between the two continents. It was one of the few uncharted parts of Kalda’s vast oceans.

  Teviz gasped. “But that is the Anomalous Corridor!”

  “Solidin,” Gladis called, his footsteps echoing across the bridge.

  “It’s there,” Solidin said in Common, tapping the map. “Prepare the ship. We leave at once.”

  Solidin stepped away from the map and turned to Gladis, who stood with his arms folded and a stern look across his sharp face.

  “Have you so soon forgotten?” Solidin asked, grinning. Gladis shrugged.

  “This is madness, Solidin!” Teviz shouted. “An endless storm assails those waters. We will not survive such a voyage.”

  Solidin turned from his friend, gazing at the captain. “When I was called to be a Bladesinger, I saw Dalgilur. Its location was imbedded within my mind. I can see it!”

  Teviz was stunned. Gladis stepped forward, eying both of them thoughtfully.

  “We don’t need the tevisral anymore, because now I am the tevisral.” Teviz laughed at Solidin’s declaration. “You think me mad,” Solidin declared stoically, “but I will prove we can reach Dalgilur.”

  “He shall be broken, but shall find an undaunted resolve that drives him to his purpose.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  Accessing Vabenack had not been as easy as Iltar assumed. His attempts were fruitless, despite using all the techniques found in Dreamwalker. He even resorted to subjecting himself to the hypnosis method, but not even that worked. Alanya had only found a limited supply of ingredients, so Iltar could only use the elixir on the second night.

  Not even that worked. Iltar did, however, find himself in a lucid state. That wasn’t a problem to achieve. The doorway, on the other hand, proved more difficult. One couldn’t manifest any old doorway. It had to be specific. There was an illustration within Dreamwalker that gave detailed information about the doorway’s specifications. It was supposed to be round, with seven keystones. Sharp-looking symbols were to be engraved on the keystones in a specific order. The author of Dreamwalker said they were the characters in their god’s divine tongue that spelled Vabenack.

  Iltar awoke with frustration, throwing aside his sheets. Luckily, his outburst hadn’t wakened Alanya. The room smelled of calming incense. Alanya claimed it helped her experience pleasant dreams, and so she assumed it might help her achieve a lucid state. Iltar just found it smelly.

  He hurriedly put on his clothes and sought out Elsia. The countess had been trying the last three nights to access Vabenack, and so had the acolytes. None of them had succeeded. Iltar found Elsia in the guesthouse’s solarium, eating breakfast with Pagus.

  “Good morning,” Elsia said before eating a spoonful of sweet porridge. Her bowl was filled with oats and sliced fruit dipped in a caramel glaze. “Were you successful?” she asked between bites.

  “No.” Iltar sat in one of the chairs.

  “What a pity,” Pagus said, and took a bite of a pastry, and then continued with a full mouth. “We didn’t either.”

  “Pagus!” Elsia chided the boy. “Where are your manners?”

  Pagus raised an eyebrow at his aunt. “I’m not in public. Besides, Master Iltar does it all the time.”

  Iltar grunted. Sure, sometimes Iltar would talk while his mouth was full, but only when discussing something important that he didn’t want slipping from his mind. Besides, Iltar only did that when around his closest friends.

  “Well, it’s a bad habit,” Elsia said primly. She glared at Iltar with displeasure but soon returned to her food.

  A servant entered the solarium and asked Iltar if he wanted anything to eat. He discovered that he was hungry. He pointed to Pagus’s half-eaten plate. “Eggs and a couple of those pastries.”

  “Alanya wants to try another market today,” Elsia said, resting her spoon in her bowl. “And she might know someone who can help with the elixir. I think we did something wrong with mixing it.” Iltar nodded. “The boys finished with the library last night,” Elsia continued. “We found nothing else related to the Chosen or the other things.”

  “That’s fine,” Iltar said. “They can continue at the Hilinard. Pagus, see that they resume their research today.”

  “Aww,” Pagus said with a full mouth. Elsia shot him a sharp scolding glare. Pagus met her gaze, swallowed, then continued complaining. “And here I was hoping I’d get to go with you to the market.”

  Iltar gave the boy a hard look, and Pagus sighed.

  “Another time,” Elsia said, patting her nephew on the shoulder. “Was Alanya awake?” she asked Iltar.

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Elsia said, rising from the table. “I’ll get ready to leave, then have Hazais fetch her. Will you be ready to leave after you eat?”

  “Yes.”

  * * * * *

  The streets of Gilganar’s market were crowded. But that didn’t matter, as Alanya’s guards cleared enough room for Iltar and the women to walk freely. Not long after arriving at the market they entered the herbalist’s shop—a one-story building that lacked any windows. A bell rigged to the door rang as Alanya’s guards entered.

  “Be with ya in a moment!” a raspy voice called from the back of the shop.

  Was that a man or a woman? Iltar wondered. He fell in beside the guards and shivered at the sudden change in temperature. How was this shop colder than the market?

  Shelves full of bottles lined the walls. Tables occupied most of the floor with groupings of jars and bottles atop them. Iltar wandered through the shop as the women entered. He ignored their chatter and perused the shelves. There were herbs here that he had never seen. The herbs were all organized by their uses and purposes.

  A small section titled “Regrowth” caught Iltar’s eye. It had only a few bottles, one of which was labeled Taegish Leaf.

  That sounds Elvish, he thought, grabbing the bottle. Iltar was familiar with the language, though he wasn’t fluent. He was more proficient at reading Elven texts than holding a conversation in Elvish. Iltar expected to find something else on the bottle, but there were no other markings on it.

  “Put that down!” the raspy voice shouted. Was that aimed at him?

  A short person—Iltar couldn’t tell if they were male or female—hobbled toward him. This was obviously the herbalist.

  “That is very expensive!” the herbalist snapped, stepping up to Iltar. The he-she took the bottle right out of his hands and cradled it like a baby.

  Odd person…

  The herbalist muttered complaints and put the bottle back on the shelf. “Don’t touch anything!”

  Iltar stepped back and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t some clumsy child. The herbalist hobbled away, attention focused on the guards. He-she assumed that whoever was with them wa
s obviously more important than Iltar. “What can I help you with?” the herbalist asked. That raspy voice was annoying.

  “I’m looking for these ingredients,” Alanya said, stepping forward and holding out a sheet of paper with the herbs required to make the dream elixir, as Iltar had come to call it.

  “How much do ya want?” the herbalist asked, swiping the paper from the high duchess and humming as he-she read it.

  “As much as you have,” Alanya said.

  The herbalist snorted. “Why do you want all this stuff?” the herbalist asked. “Havin’ trouble sleeping, are ya?”

  Alanya didn’t know what to say. She sucked in her breath and looked to Iltar.

  The herbalist glanced back to Iltar, grimacing at him. “Maybe it isn’t as innocent as that… planning to drug people?”

  “I take it you know what those things combined will do?” Iltar asked.

  “Of course I do!” the herbalist said, snorting. “Were you expecting an idiot?”

  “No,” Iltar said defiantly.

  “Then what are ya doing with it?” the herbalist demanded, hobbling over to Iltar. The herbalist didn’t stand very tall, but he-she looked fierce.

  “That’s our business,” Iltar said.

  “Your business?” the herbalist shook his-her head. “Well, it’s my business to see these things aren’t used improperly!”

  “Will you sell to us or not?” Elsia demanded.

  The herbalist spun around. “Only if you tell me what ya intend to do with it! There will be no drugging of any kind coming from my shop! No nefarious acts will be traced back to me!” He-she shot a glance back to Iltar, but settled a probing gaze on the women.

  What’s this person’s problem? Iltar wondered.

  “As he said”—Elsia gestured to Iltar—“it is our business. But I can promise you that what we are doing is in the pursuit of scholarship. Nothing nefarious will come of our activity.” She sounded cordial, perhaps too cordial.

  The herbalist grumbled in disbelief. “If you can’t tell me what you’re up to, it must be nefarious!” he-she retorted and spun around, facing Iltar.

  What an insolent little git… He fought back a scowl as the herbalist glared at him. His-her dull blue eyes were fierce. Iltar exchanged a short stare-down with the herbalist, and then the herbalist’s eyes changed… What on Kalda? The irises were swirling around his-her pupils.

  Iltar started and went to step back but froze. He couldn’t move. It was like he was under an enthralling spell… But he hadn’t felt any magic penetrate him. What was happening? All he could do was stare at the odd herbalist.

  Vivid images flashed within Iltar’s mind, like a waking vision. Iltar relived the research he had done at the Hilinard. Every bit of information flooded back to him in an instant. The scene suddenly changed, and he was reading on the lawn of Alanya’s mansion. Every page of Dreamwalker flashed before him. Iltar saw what he had been doing wrong; he missed a sliver of detail about awakening the mind. He needed a specific object to manifest in his dream before becoming lucid—

  The odd vision abruptly ended. Was this something sent by Reflection?

  Iltar blinked. The herbalist glared at him with fiery indignation. It was as if the herbalist were his most bitter enemy. A scowl formed upon his-her face and the herbalist spun around, grabbing a bottle.

  “Get out!” the herbalist shouted, throwing the bottle at Iltar.

  What fury…

  Iltar threw himself sideways, barely dodging the bottle; it shattered against the bookshelf behind him, and Iltar felt shards of the glass bounce off his skin.

  “Get out now!” the herbalist shouted, grabbing two more bottles. He-she yelled like a growling beast.

  Iltar instinctively stretched out a hand—No, he stopped himself from mustering his most deadly magic, the same that had killed Rovin. Not here… Too many witnesses.

  The herbalist continued hurling bottles, and Iltar barely had time to shield his face with his outstretched hand. The bottles exploded against his forearm. Shards of glass flew in every direction. Some caught in his hair, another scraped his cheek.

  “I said get out!” the herbalist yelled.

  Iltar glimpsed him-her spinning to the guards and the women while grabbing two more bottles. He crunched on glass as he got up, watching as the herbalist hurled the bottles across the shop. Alanya and Elsia ran for the door. They made it outside just as the bottles shattered against the guards’ armor.

  What kind of madness was this?

  The herbalist grabbed two more bottles as the guards hurried to the door. They were out before Iltar could reach them.

  “Never come back!” the herbalist shouted with his-her raspy voice as Iltar dashed into the street.

  The women had disappeared into the crowd, and the guards chased after them. Iltar turned to see the herbalist at the door, glaring at him one last time before slamming it shut. He stood in the street, bewildered. What had caused the herbalist to become so adversarial?

  Iltar heard his named carrying above the hustle and bustle of the market, shouted by Alanya and Elsia. They were standing beside a lavish carriage bearing the symbol of the Mindolarn Empire; the seven-headed hydra. They were talking to someone inside the carriage.

  “… woman just went ballistic,” Alanya said, talking into the carriage. “She just started chucking things at us.”

  “I thought it was an old man,” said one of Alanya’s guards.

  “Definitely a woman,” Elsia said, nodding.

  Iltar wasn’t so sure of that assumption… But who were they talking to?

  “I’ll have someone look into it,” a woman’s voice said from within the carriage.

  “Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” Alanya said.

  “Oh, please, Alanya. How many times have I told you to drop the formalities? We’re friends.”

  “It’s a habit,” Alanya said, then gestured to Iltar. “I want to introduce you to someone, my friend’s bodyguard.”

  Iltar stepped up to the carriage’s window, seeing a regal-looking woman inside. She wore a blood-red gown that looked like it belonged to a princess. She looked tall—although she was sitting—and her figure was slender. Her long black hair was braided and hung partway down her chest. Vibrant green eyes settled upon him with a look of intrigue that soon turned to shocked surprise.

  “This is Iltar, a powerful mage from Soroth,” Alanya said, then gestured to the carriage. “And this is Her Highness, Princess Raedina Midivar, eighth in line to the Mindolarn throne.”

  Raedina’s expression became fierce as she saw Iltar. What was with people looking at him hostilely today? It was as if they perceived him as some kind of monster.

  Alanya started, noticing Raedina’s hostility. She looked to Iltar, then back to the princess. “Is there something wrong, Raedina?” she asked warily.

  The princess relaxed her gaze and sucked in a deep breath. Iltar had never seen this woman, so why would she react angrily at his presence?

  “My apologies,” Princess Raedina said, sounding like she was forcing a tone of cordiality. “I thought you were someone else…”

  Thought I was someone else? Iltar wondered, raising an eyebrow. He stepped away from the carriage, contemplating the possibilities of the princess encountering someone that looked like him. That attack on the Mindolarn Palace nine months ago… could it have been—

  “Iltar,” Elsia said, pulling Iltar from his contemplation. “Why don’t you and I check one of the other markets for the herbs? Alanya can go get the rogulin powder.”

  “Fine,” he said, glancing back to the high duchess, who was still talking with the princess.

  * * * * *

  It was late when Iltar finished brewing the elixir. The sun had already gone down in the east. He, Elsia, and Alanya’s head chef had used the main kitchen in the mansion. The room reeked of the potent concoction. The heat used to boil the elixir had caused the rogulin powder to give off its putrid odor. That hadn’t happen
ed the first time they made the elixir. Iltar thought it might be because of the length of time between purchasing the crystal and grinding it into a powder. Earlier that day, Alanya had met with an acquaintance, and the man had made the powder shortly thereafter. Iltar didn’t know how long the other powder had been lying around. Perhaps freshness would make a difference.

  The chef portioned out goblets of elixir for Iltar, Elsia, Alanya, and Pagus.

  “Why don’t you get some more served for the other servants,” Iltar said. “Hazais and a few of the guards.” The chef started and looked to Elsia, seeking permission from her.

  “Do as he says,” she said, and shrugged. “I’m sure your mistress will be fine with it.”

  Wary, the chef grabbed some more goblets as Pagus and some of the acolytes entered, including Agen and Bilda.

  “We’re ready,” Bilda said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “I’m not letting you drink this,” Iltar said, gesturing to the pot of elixir. “You’re too young.”

  “And us?” Agen asked, gesturing to the other acolytes. Iltar raised his brow at the question. A stern gaze was his only answer.

  “C’mon, Master Iltar,” Kaelar said with a frown. “It’s not like there’s anything harmful in that drink.”

  “Yeah!” Bilda chimed. Several of the other boys agreed with him, pestering their master to grant them permission.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Iltar said. “Perhaps after I can successfully access that realm. But I can’t let one of you go tromping into that place without me there.”

  “You just want the discovery all to yourself, huh?” Tigan griped. Iltar shot the youth a perturbed glance. That wasn’t the case. He was genuinely worried for the boys. If the information in Dreamwalker was true, then the boys could die in Vabenack. Iltar couldn’t allow that.

  Soft pitter-patter echoed into the kitchen and Alanya entered. She was wearing a silky robe that showed off her elegant figure. Iltar caught several of the boys gawking at her. He cleared his throat, jarring some, but Agen and Kaelar continued staring with lustful eyes.

  “This stinks,” Alanya said, walking to the counter where the goblets were waiting. She made a face and raised the goblet to her lips. “Did you do something different?” she asked.