by Guy Antibes
“This way,” he said.
Ricky led, and Bespa and Siria walked behind. They were nearly to the flat when Bespa touched Ricky on the shoulder.
“Is that a Vorrian wand case?”
“It was made in Dimani for a Vorrian customer.”
“I didn’t know you carried a wand,” Siria said.
“The wand was a gift.”
“You have a Vorrian wand inside?”
Ricky shrugged. “I’ll show it to you when we get to the flat.”
Siria began to talk about their voyage, and that filled up the time. Ricky disabled the locks and let the couple inside the flat.
“Your room is in front. It is the owner’s suite.”
“We don’t want to take your room.”
“Mine overlooks a nice garden in the back. I prefer that.” Ricky didn’t say why, but he showed the rest of the flat.
They sat in the living room. Mirano Bespa looked around at the room.
“This is nicer than any inn. I like quiet.” He took Siria’s hand and squeezed. The couple’s relationship seemed to have solidified in the last half year. “Now about the wand.”
Ricky took the wand case off his belt and handed it to Mirano.
“Ah, this is a very high-quality magical instrument. Do you know what it does?”
Ricky nodded. “I do.”
The Healer looked closely at the decoration that hid the wand’s instructions and sang a pitch that filled Mirano with power. He closed his eyes. The blade emerged as his eyes opened.
“This is the best example I have seen. Duterian wands are much inferior. It self-sharpens?”
“It does. I tested it this morning.”
“So you haven’t had it long?”
“I only found out about the blade last night from a sorceress I met in Dimani.”
“Few sorcerers outside of Duteria and Vorria can read the script. She must be Vorrian.”
“I believe she grew up in Duteria.”
“Interesting. Anyway,” Bespa slapped his hands on his knees. “How much to stay? I can’t have you give us free lodgings.”
“Work on my shoulder. I damaged it fighting a great boar.”
“A real great boar?” Siria said. “They are bigger than a horse or a cow. You don’t just damage your shoulder.”
“Remember the battering ram in Applia? That’s how I defeated it. The blast blew my host and me away, and I landed oddly. If you make sure everything is working all right, then that is your payment. You might be called upon to provide means for some meals we cook in the flat.”
“That seems fair enough,” Bespa said. “Let’s get my payment over before our luggage arrives.”
Ricky took Bespa to his bedroom and took his shirt off.
“These wounds came from your fight with the boar?”
“When animals blow up, all kinds of things go every which way,” Ricky said. “I was scraped up pretty badly.”
“A few of your wounds didn’t heal very well. I’ll get you right. Lay on your stomach, and then you’ll have to sit up for the shoulder. That will hurt, I imagine.”
Bespa went to work. Ricky’s back burned from time to time, but soon Bespa got up off the bed.
“Sit. Now, why did your servant recognize me before we were introduced?”
Ricky scratched his head. “This is sort of a secret. I mean it was told in confidence. Tobia and his wife Minnie are from Duteria. They ran into some trouble and left. They came to Dimani and had to become contract servants to survive. They spent a long time in Sealio and then returned to Dimani about three years ago.”
“I imagine they are both sorcerers?”
“Minnie has significant talent. Tobia’s not without power, though,” Ricky said.
“If he wants to tell me who he is, then he will. Otherwise, I will be a gracious guest. How is that?”
“I’m happy,” Ricky said. “Now my shoulder.”
“Ooo, this is messed up. It wasn’t damaged recently and has been re-injured,” Bespa said after linking to Ricky and looking into his body. “It didn’t heal right. I can fix it, but you might want to bite on something while we work. I’ll need you conscious to move your shoulder as I heal.”
When they finished, the sun was setting outside. “I need a full dinner,” Bespa said. “You do too. I don’t get many patients who can use their power to help heal themselves.”
“I did that?”
“It’s the result of a very solid link. You’ll find your shoulder sore, but exercise it when you get a chance. Go through all your motions.”
“I can spar with my sword?”
“You can. You’ll feel some pain, and that will keep you from overdoing it. Let’s go out and get something to eat,” Mirano Bespa said. “You can leave a note for your servant.”
Ricky walked out of his bedroom, and Siria stood, looking at Minnie and Tobia. His servant and his wife carried cloth-wrapped boxes. Ricky hoped the food was inside.
“Hamina!” Mirano said as he stopped, staring at Minnie.
~~~
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
~
“Y OU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?” SIRIA SAID.
Mirano took Minnie’s hands in his. “We did when we studied in the Fourth Ring.”
“Should I be concerned?” Siria said.
Minnie laughed. “Heavens, no. Mirano liked my sister, but she never made it out of the Third Ring, and we both did, quickly. We were friends bonded by Mirano’s old girlfriend. Toberu was in my life then, and we were about to get married.”
“Toberu? Tobia?” Ricky said.
“Time changes us all. I hardly recognized Mirano, but when I did, I had to fetch Minnie.”
Somehow Ricky had expected fisticuffs or the prospect of restraining Tobia’s wild, jealous rage, but this was a joyful reunion, at least for three of the four. Siria didn’t look convinced.
“What are the rings?” Ricky said. He definitely felt his age in the presence of adults with long histories.
Mirano’s eyes crinkled, as he let Minnie’s hands go. “You are Ricky’s contract servants?”
Minnie nodded. “Ricky just bought Tobia’s contract, and he has promised to buy mine.”
“What’s a contract servant?” Siria asked.
“More or less a slave,” Ricky said. “Nobles in Dimani—”
“And, to a lesser extent in Vorria,” Minnie said.
“They take advantage of peoples’ conditions and have them sign servitude contracts that are very long.”
“Fifteen years in our cases. We both have more than two years to go. It is two years too long, especially once Lord Wamia, the contract owner, sold Tobia’s to Lord Forari Griama’s estate hours to the south.” Minnie looked at them all standing. “Perhaps we can sit and talk. My stomach is about to rumble.”
~
Ricky let them all reminisce. Occasionally they would talk about a person that Siria knew, and she was swept into the conversation. Ricky just absorbed the scene. It reminded him of Saganet and Karian talking with Effie and Mina Doria in the cottage and Ricky not knowing a single person or incident discussed for the whole time.
He did, however, pick up a glimpse of Duteria, which was a lot weirder than his imagination had ever pictured. The equivalent of Sealio University was architecturally a series of five rings of buildings, getting smaller moving towards a massive tower in the center. Instead of study years like Ricky knew from the academy, movement from ring to ring was through a sorcerer’s merits. It didn’t matter about their sex or origin, just their ability, except for one thing; Parantian sorcerers were never particularly welcome.
Siria never made it past the Second Ring, like Tobia. Bespa made it to the Fifth Ring, but not to the Tower in the center. Minnie moved at roughly the same speed as Mirano and was about to enter the Fifth Ring when she ran away with Tobia after a tower-level sorcerer assaulted Minnie.
Ricky had heard enough and retired to his bedroom.
Good night, my prince. I hope you’ve
made progress on your presentation for tomorrow, Pira said immediately after the link engaged.
A personal issue, of no great importance to your ambitious enterprise, has arisen, but I will have something tomorrow. Good night, Ricky sighed, my princess.
He woke up later that night to find three of them still talking since Siria had gone to bed.
When dawn broke, Ricky began to inspect the flat. Someone had washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He suspected Mirano and Siria slept in the front bedroom, but he stumbled upon the slumbering couple on the floor in front of the couch.
Tobia emerged from the front bedroom with his finger to his lips. He smiled and clutched the token that he now wore around his neck.
Mirano insisted we spend the rest of the night in our own bedroom and dragged Siria out of our room. It’s nearly time for us to get breakfast and head over to the theater, Tobia said through the link.
You didn’t tell him I made that, did you?
Tobia grinned. It never came up, and if it did, Minnie and I would never tell. He shook his head. We must appear awfully funny just looking at each other.
Ricky returned the grin with a smile. I’ll get ready. We’ll find a place to eat.
~
“Imagine my surprise,” Tobia said, repeating himself for about the third time during breakfast. “I guess it’s not so much a coincidence given we are both here for the grand performance. Mirano is often hired to attend performances by Parantian sorcerers? He’s that good of a healer?”
“Remember my shoulder?”
Tobia’s eyebrows went up. “He healed it? I thought you were on the mend.”
“Not to a happy recovery,” Ricky said. “He restructured my shoulder. I don’t know how he does it, but sorcerous healing works better if there is an alignment between the healer and the one being healed. Mirano has worked on me a few times so that he can do more than he might on someone else. The wounds on my back are better, too.”
“I wondered about that,” Tobia said. “He is the nicest of men. Treated Minnie as a sister.”
“I know. I was there,” Ricky said. “So what are your real names?”
“Tobia and Minnie. We’ve called each other that for so long. Our Duterian names are Toberu and Hamina Dastoya. I imagine we could go back, now. Duteria has a ten-year limit on all crimes except murder.”
“I thought you killed—”
“I didn’t kill the Tower Sorcerer; I just maimed him. I squeezed his throat so he couldn’t sing anymore. As far as Mirano knows, the man still can’t and had to leave the Tower to teach on the First and Second Rings.” Tobia rubbed his bald head. “No one would recognize me now, anyway. I nearly didn’t recognize Mirano for the same reason, but I couldn’t forget the kindness in his eyes.”
“I suppose that’s great for a healer.” Ricky stood. “It’s time to go.”
They made their way to the theater. Ricky realized he hadn’t come up with a routine and cobbled something together in his mind. He would have to practice making the fireball spell into an illusion.
Ricky wondered if Tirio Estippia lived in the theater’s lobby since he welcomed them in and warned that today’s activities would not be as casual as the previous day. Tobia and Ricky entered a brightly lit theater. Sorcery globes of all colors and sizes floated about various groups seated throughout the hall.
A man Ricky didn’t recognize called them down towards the stage. “Hendrico Valian?”
Ricky nodded.
“I sat next to Princess Pira yesterday going through the performance logistics. I am the artistic director of the performance. We have you down for the third performance from the end. The princess wanted you to be the finale, but, fortunately, cooler heads prevailed.”
Ricky wasn’t sure if the man recognized the insult he had just flung at both Ricky and Princess Pira.
“How many support artists will your act require?”
“I thought I would just go through a demonstration of my spells,” Ricky said.
“But we need a theme, a color palette, action, and reaction to emotional stimuli,” the director said. “You do know you’ll be compared to the best performance sorcerers from Paranty. All will seek the highest accolades from a very distinguished and sophisticated audience.”
“I’ll talk to the princess. Perhaps there is a misunderstanding. I was invited to participate. I’m not seeking accolades.”
“But the prize!”
“There is a prize?”
“One hundred thousand Sealian galleons to the winner.”
Ricky blinked when the man mentioned the huge amount of gold coins. That was at least three times more than what Duke Noacci had given Ricky.
“You didn’t know? That is in addition to the performance fee.”
Tobia coughed behind him. How much money did Princess Pira control? Could she afford to offer a fortune just to give for a single sorcery performance? The notion seemed outrageous. Just how much did performance sorcerers make, anyway? Now Dari Calasay’s comments about jealous sorcerers made sense with so much money at stake.
“I may have to make revisions to my concept,” Ricky said. He wondered if he could get away with some replay of the Battle of the Barracks in Applia. He was, after all, a hero of the Applian Insurgency, or whatever name Pira had concocted for the poster.
“Sit. The princess isn’t here yet. We expect explanations of the performances to be done before noon. That’s what we were doing yesterday, for the local folk, you know.” The director spoke with such condescension that it turned Ricky’s stomach. If performance sorcery meant having to deal with this kind of person day after day, Ricky could dispense with the cash, but he wondered to what uses he could put such a sum.
Ricky looked at Tobia. “Is this prize unusual?”
“It is, but not outrageously so for an international competition. King Leon has always been intent on putting golden handcuffs on the best sorcerers.”
Ricky sat back and closed his eyes, trying to pull apart the less compromising part of his trials in the fall. He explained what he wanted to do to Tobia, and his servant thought Ricky had a good idea.
“I’m sure there are a hundred versions of what happened in Applia,” Tobia said. “You can change it any way you wish.”
“He said he could provide support sorcerers.” Ricky walked down to the front and asked for a lap desk, paper, and pencil.
Together with Tobia, they crafted a story that included betrayal, friendship, and action. He only had five minutes, according to the director. Princess Pira was late to the theater, but by the time she arrived, Ricky had attempted to design the kind of entertainment the director wanted. He made three copies.
Pira looked nervously at Ricky as she passed. That worried Ricky. He didn’t perceive any playfulness in her gaze.
She conferred with the director, and they started. The person bubbling over with enthusiasm the previous day was gone. Her light complexion, ashen, and as far as Ricky could tell, she hadn’t powdered her face.
Ricky nearly attempted to communicate with her but decided against it. He made notes of the other presentations. He could tell they were giving enough of an idea of their performance, but no one made extravagant claims about their sorcerous effects. The few locals who Ricky remembered presenting the day before seemed to show everything they had. He guessed that was the difference between professionals and want-to-be professionals. Ricky didn’t know where he fell into the mix, but he wouldn’t be one to boast.
“Hendrico Valian!”
Ricky stood up. Tobia clasped his hand and gave him an encouraging nod. The walk to the stage seemed to take forever. This was worse than performing for sailors or even fighting in a battle. He looked out at Princess Pira, who leaned forward, intent on his words.
Ricky leaned over and passed two of the outline copies to the director and the princess.
“Since I am billed to be the hero of the Applian Insurgency—”
“Uprising. It’s Uprising
,” the director said, correcting Ricky like a professor.
He cleared his throat. “The Applian Uprising, that I would give the audience a taste of what happened that day.”
“You only have five minutes,” the director said, evidently getting exasperated.
“He can have whatever time he wants,” Pira said through clenched teeth.
“Uh, yes, Princess,” the director said. He looked away and made a face. Did the man even think to realize that others saw his lack of respect?
Ricky went through the brief scenario and demonstrated the spell or effect in a small way each time. The hall had gone silent shortly after Ricky performed. The crowd watched Ricky fly. He knew his spell was different from the others, so he only rose ten feet in the air, flew around the stage and returned.
He got to the part in the story about the battering ram, pointing out the need for a paper model of the battering ram. He pulled out his wand and sent a tiny tendril of flame four feet away and shut off the flow. The fireball was the size of an apple, but Ricky enhanced the explosion with his magic, and he heard a satisfying sound longer and deeper than the crack of a whip.
Ricky looked down to see Princess Pira clapping at the effect. Others followed, and Ricky bowed at the applause. He quickly ran through the final bits of the scenario and bowed to the director and Pira, and then returned to his seat.
“You can do more than that?” Tobia said. “Some of the effects I think the other sorcerers have in mind aren’t any better than what you showed so casually,” he said.
“Remember the great boar? He got the full effect of the fireball.”
“Oh, that’s right. You can’t do that in the hall, though.”
“I’ll need help from Minnie. Maybe she knows how to convert that effect into an illusion. She has to know more about sorcery than I do,” Ricky said.
“I looked around when you flew. Everyone was astounded by how you did it. I imagine a number of the sorcerers use wires, despite being able to fly by singing.”
“Flying the way they do it makes a lot of sorcerers depressed. I read where sorcerers would commit suicide if they didn’t take proper precautions. My method doesn’t affect me that way.”
