The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘My word,’ Douanna said, her face suppressing a smile. ‘My heart leapt when Jaioun delivered your cryptic little message. This Beth girl, I would have sent away, but my old student?’

  Daphne stood on the carpet, trembling with exhaustion.

  ‘It really is you, then?’ Douanna said.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.’

  ‘Yes,’ the Rahain replied. ‘Well, here you are, though I can’t quite bring myself to say your name, for fear the neighbours hear it through these thin walls and a mob arrives to burn the place to the ground.’

  ‘You’ve heard, then?’

  ‘Heard, my dear?’ Douanna replied, arching her eyebrows. ‘The whole town is speaking about nothing else. Talk of your trial has filled the streets since the news arrived here a half third ago. I could hardly believe they were talking about the same girl that I’d tutored last summer. You certainly didn’t seem like a wicked traitor back then.’

  ‘I’m not a traitor,’ Daphne gasped, putting her hand out to steady herself.

  ‘My child,’ Douanna said, ‘are you ill? Please sit.’ She looked over at her butler. ‘Jaioun, my dear fellow, please have some hot food and drink prepared for our guest.’ He nodded and started for the door. ‘A guest,’ she said, ‘about whose presence here I would rather we be discreet, don’t you agree?’

  ‘As you say, ma’am.’ He bowed and left the room.

  Douanna helped Daphne sit, then poured a brandy from a glass decanter on the table.

  ‘Drink this,’ she said, handing her the glass.

  Douanna sat on the arm of the chair next to Daphne, and examined her closely.

  ‘You’ve certainly changed,’ she said. ‘So much thinner. But stronger-looking too. Hmmm. And what’s this? Your arm! Oh my poor dear.’ She put one hand to her mouth, while the other peeled back the robe to reveal the extent of the damage to Daphne’s left arm and hand.

  ‘The Sanang?’

  Daphne could only manage a faint nod, as she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the brandy. She nearly retched again, but then felt a warming glow spread through her.

  ‘Those damn savages!’ Douanna said. ‘What were they like?’

  Jaioun walked back in, carrying a large tray, which he set down on the table. On it were plates of steaming hot food, meat and vegetables, and bread. There were also two pots, a tall one for coffee, and a squat one for tea. There were cigarettes laid out by an ashtray and a tiny table lamp. On a side dish were a few small pieces of chocolate.

  ‘Food and drink from the Realm of the Holdings, the Rahain Republic, and the anarchic Sanang,’ said Douanna. ‘Come on, girl, you must eat.’

  Daphne struggled to the table, sat, and ate all of the chocolate from the dish.

  Douanna raised an eyebrow. ‘You had better manners last year too.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Daphne said. She poured herself a coffee and for the first time experienced it with Holdings cane sugar. She lit a cigarette, drank her sweet coffee, and leaned back into her chair, sighing.

  ‘A woman of simple tastes, I see,’ Douanna said, pouring herself a tea. ‘We have no hot drinks in my homeland, and I must confess it seemed a ridiculous notion when I first heard of it. However, I have learned the error of my ways, and am now a devout tea worshipper.’

  ‘I used to love tea,’ Daphne said, smoking. ‘Prefer coffee now.’

  ‘Spend some time with the Sanang, did we?’

  Daphne hesitated.

  Douanna raised her hand. ‘Later,’ she said. ‘You will tell me everything, but after you have eaten. And taken a bath. And sorted your hair. And just where did you get those clothes? Dear me.’

  The following morning a clean and freshly dressed Daphne told her story to Douanna, leaving out nothing except her encounter with the Creator, if indeed it had happened. She ate her way through an enormous breakfast while doing so, as Douanna sat behind her brushing her hair and braiding it into pleats.

  ‘That was most fascinating,’ she said, once Daphne had finished. ‘Now, I happen to have an account of your trial. It was posted up throughout the town, and my butler has kindly provided me with a copy.’ She reached into a small bag that she always carried around with her. ‘Ah, here it is. Now let me see. Yes, this part. It says that the clinching evidence against you was the presence of a signed receipt of the withdrawal orders that the messenger deposited with the army, once he had returned from your outpost. Mmmmm, what do you say to that?’

  Her tongue flickered.

  ‘May I see it, please?’ said Daphne.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, handing over the single sheet of thick fibrous paper.

  It was a simple report. She had been charged with disobeying orders, and remaining in the fort when ordered to leave. Her motive was stated to be the vainglorious influence of her father’s political ambition, and though this did somewhat temper her guilt, she was still found responsible for the loss of her entire company, and the consequent collapse of the Holdings withdrawal. For any doubters, the proof was in the receipt for the orders, clearly signed by Daphne’s own hand, as testified by the only survivor of the fort’s personnel, the company priest, Father Rijon.

  She gasped and dropped the paper.

  ‘My dear?’ Douanna said.

  ‘The bastard,’ she growled.

  ‘Who?’ The Rahain swooped down and picked up the document. ‘The priest? He’s the only one I see named here, except yourself and your father of course, and I assume you’re not referring to him.’

  Daphne shook her head. ‘He’s lying. I didn’t sign any receipt, because the damned orders never arrived.’

  Douanna sat back and folded her arms.

  ‘Do you know what happened to my father, to my family?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘There has been no specific word on them,’ Douanna said. ‘I imagine they’ll be lying low. I didn’t hear anything about your father being charged with any crime, but I would guess he is out of favour as it were. He is, or was, close to your queen, no?’

  ‘He’s a member of her council.’

  ‘Does Holdings law have any procedures for removing troublesome councillors? Or is it like in Rahain, where those in power are there for life?’

  ‘It would be at the queen’s discretion,’ she replied, remembering tutoring Agang not so long before on the same topic. ‘Unless found guilty of treason.’

  ‘Well then,’ Douanna said. ‘If he’s as cunning a politician as the mob here take him for, then he’ll go back to his estates for a few years, let the whole thing be quietly forgotten about, and then make his return. Of course, much would depend on whether your queen is still alive by then. She is said to be very ill. I believe her brother is next in line, no?’

  ‘Prince Guilliam, yes.’

  ‘A pious man, I hear?’

  ‘So it is said.’

  Douanna nodded.

  ‘And so, my dear,’ she said. ‘I must ask you, what is it exactly that you want from me? I am already endangering myself and Jaioun by hosting you here. At the very least the town officials would revoke my licence to trade. And, as you can see by my simple dwelling, business this year has not been as good as I’d hoped.’ She gestured around the sparsely furnished room.

  ‘By sheltering and feeding me, you have already helped enough.’

  ‘Come now, you must have a plan.’

  ‘Just to get back to the capital,’ she said. ‘Somehow try to clear my name.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to see the Holdings. I will take you, for no more than expenses and a small fee, which I am sure your father will be happy to honour once he sees his youngest daughter alive.’

  Daphne stopped eating. ‘You would do this for me?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘We’ll have to hide you of course, until we’ve left the town far behind us. It’ll take a few days to organise, but my business in Midfort is almost wrapped up for the year, and to be honest, the winter here
is horrid, all that mud. I hear it’s warmer in the Holdings, no?’

  ‘Yes,’ Daphne said. ‘Especially up in the north where my family’s estate lies.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Douanna smiled. ‘I shall pack appropriately.’

  Daphne was forbidden from leaving the apartment, but she felt safe, and there was plenty of food and drink to be enjoyed as her strength recovered.

  On her third day in Douanna’s home, she sat alone at a small table next to a window overlooking the street. Her host was taking her afternoon nap, while Jaioun was out shopping. Daphne was relaxing with a book, smoking and sipping her sweet coffee, when she started to hear shouting from the road below. There were lace curtains over the window, which she left open while smoking, and she peered through them to see what was causing the disturbance. A news-seller was on the street, holding sheets of the daily journal. The top half of the paper was dominated by a picture of someone’s face, but she was too far away to tell who it was.

  The people in the street were crowding around the seller, grabbing copies from his hand in exchange for a few pennies. Groups huddled together, reading shared copies.

  A few moments later, Jaioun came through the front door, carrying nothing but a copy of the news-sheet. He ignored Daphne, and walked straight to the door of Douanna’s chamber.

  He gave it a sharp knock.

  A sleepy and annoyed looking Douanna pulled the door open.

  ‘Yes, yes, what is it?’

  Jaioun held up the news-sheet. She snatched it from his hand, scanned it, glanced up at Daphne for a moment, then resumed reading.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Jaioun, I’ll be needing tea before we depart, if you would.’

  The butler nodded and left by the kitchen door.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ Douanna said. ‘We may have to slightly bring forward some aspects of the plan.’

  She handed Daphne the news-sheet.

  The top third was covered by a sketch of a woman’s face. Who was that supposed to be?

  Fugitive Seen In Midfort! the headline blared. She read on.

  Daphne Holdfast, Notorious Traitor – Not Dead.

  The criminal responsible for the losses in the Forest this summer, Daphne Holdfast, 21, has been seen at large in Midfort. Eye-witnesses say the most hated woman in the Holdings was seen at Brokers Tea House in the Merchant’s Quarter. Town sheriffs say she is dangerous and not to be approached, if seen…

  Daphne put the paper down onto the table’s polished surface.

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘Quite,’ Douanna said. Her tongue flickered.

  ‘By “bring forward”, did you mean…?’

  ‘We leave today, yes,’ the Rahain replied. ‘I imagine the fine sheriffs of this town will have already visited the Rahain Trading Company where that little tea house is located, and if you used my name there, then, well… Luckily, that picture looks nothing like you, and there’s no mention of any injuries to your arm, so I still have hope. So yes, we’ll be leaving immediately. Once I’ve had my tea, of course.’

  Within the hour they were ready to go. Daphne’s nerves were slowly shredding, as she waited for a knock on the door to come at any moment. Douanna had supplied her with a clean brown tunic and trousers to wear. The simple tunic was short-sleeved, and Daphne was worried about her crippled left arm being on display.

  ‘Of course people will stare, my dear,’ Douanna had said, while adjusting her hem. ‘But no one who does will think of Daphne Holdfast.’

  Jaioun carried the trunk down the stairs, while Daphne and Douanna followed. She was given a few brief instructions regarding the behaviour of the Rahain serving classes, and she kept her eyes low and said nothing as they walked out onto the street.

  Douanna went in front, with Daphne at her elbow, while Jaioun pulled the trunk along on a trolley. They garnered plenty of stares, and a few loud tuts at the sight of a crippled Holdings girl so reduced that she had to work for the Rahain, but no one challenged them. After a few turns they entered a wagon marshalling yard. A few men and women loitered near the gates, which were used as a place to pick up casual labour. Daphne caught eyes looking at her arm, but she kept her head down.

  Once in the forecourt, Douanna reached into her bag, and passed an inscribed metal token to Jaioun.

  ‘Please locate our wagon, there’s a good chap.’

  The butler left the trunk with Douanna and Daphne, and strode off to the yard’s office.

  The Rahain woman gave Daphne a wink, but her stomach was churning with nerves. She hated her useless arm.

  Jaioun emerged from the office, and came back with a key.

  They walked through the quiet yard to a row of sheds by the far wall, and Jaioun unlocked a door. Inside the dark and dusty old shed was a wagon, with a high canvas canopy. The butler undid the cover’s straps and buckles, and opened the rear doorflap. He removed a long coat, which he handed to Daphne. She pulled it over her shoulders, glad her arm was no longer on display.

  ‘I’ll get the horses,’ he said.

  Daphne started to smile.

  Douanna walked to the rear of the wagon and flipped a latch on the underside. A panel fell open, revealing a false bottom. The hatch was as wide as the cart, but less than a foot high.

  ‘So Beth,’ Douanna smiled. ‘How do you feel about enclosed spaces?’

  Chapter 13

  Arraignment

  Outside Holdings City, Realm of the Holdings – 30th Day, Last Third Autumn 503

  The quickest that Daphne had ever managed to get from Sanang to the Holdings capital had been sixteen days, switching horses at every way station, and galloping the exhausted beasts for hours at a stretch.

  With two Rahain and a wagon, the pace had been half as quick, and her growing impatience had been almost tangible. It had taken them ten days alone to reach the border of the Holdings. Although the windswept stretch of land between Sanang and the Holdings had been ceded to the Realm following the conclusion of the Rahain wars, it was sparsely populated, and wild treeless country still. Everything seemed more ordered and civilised once they had crossed the border into the Holdings, and the wide cultivated plains started to open up.

  For a few days they had kept the western spur of the Barrier Mountains to their right, then, at the road junction leading to the coal-mining city of Blackwater, they had taken the north-easterly branch, and started to cross the savannah.

  Several more days had passed before the mountains to the south disappeared over the horizon, and there was nothing but vast wheat fields all around; no hills to break the endless monotony.

  ‘I find all this mildly disconcerting,’ Douanna had commented, her arm sweeping across the land. ‘There is not a single spot in the whole of Rahain where one cannot see mountains, and of course, all seven cities are buried deep within the hills, closed in on themselves like little worlds. This land is the very opposite. It’s like someone has taken the lid off.’

  For hundreds of miles around there were no geographical features to disrupt the flow of the plains, excepting the Greater and Lesser Rivers. The course of the Greater had gouged a wide channel through the savannah, and where the current ran against anything harder than soil or sandstone, the erosion had formed several rocky outcrops, especially on the western bank. The capital of the Holdings was built around the highest of these free-standing rocks. Nine-tenths of the city was on the lower, eastern bank, where a large urban sprawl had been built from yellow and white sandstone mined from the local quarries. It was laid out around several elegant boulevards, and was the largest settlement in the Holdings.

  On the western bank, which towered a hundred feet above the river, sat the walled Upper City, comprising the royal palace, the council house, the cathedral and the prophet’s citadel. Sheer cliffs ran almost all the way round the outcrop, but on the eastern side, facing the Lower City, two sets of switch-backed steps had been cut in the side of the cliff, leading to
the summit. At the northern end, where the slopes of the Upper City were less steep, a wider ramp had been dug out of the rock, to allow more stately, horse-driven processions to take place. At the lower end of the ramp, the bridge over the river led to the enormous cavalry grounds, home of the city garrison.

  It was almost a third since they had left Midfort, and they were in sight of the city at last.

  ‘There it is,’ said Daphne, pointing along the road.

  ‘That little hill?’ Douanna said.

  ‘That’s just where the queen and prophet live,’ she said. ‘You can’t see the rest of the city yet, it’s all spread out on the other side of the river.’ She pointed again. ‘That spire there belongs to the university. It’s the highest point in the Lower City.’

  ‘So we’ll arrive in good time for tomorrow’s Winter’s Day celebrations?’

  ‘Yes,’ Daphne replied. ‘But as I’ve said, here in the Holdings it’s a religious festival. There will be no parties, just lots of praying.’

  ‘Dear me,’ Douanna tutted. ‘How dull.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’ll be perfect cover for visiting a few of the people I trust.’

  ‘Your father’s agent?’

  ‘Yes, she’s one of them,’ Daphne replied. ‘My father will most likely be at the Holdfast estate. Even if it weren’t for the difficulties I’ve caused him, he always avoided the city during religious festivals.’

  ‘Another sign of his wisdom,’ Douanna said.

  Daphne turned to her. ‘Are none of the Rahain religious?’

  ‘Oh certainly a few of the lower orders hold to their superstitions.’

  Jaioun turned his head just a fraction, a mild look of amusement fleeting over his usually expressionless features.