“I think we need to get this chest to Wizard Locksher, and fast,” Darlan said. “Where is Alfred? Is he still showing my grandmother around?”
“Yes,” Beehn replied. “They’re in the Rune Tower. He was taking Mistress Sarine to the archives where the books on spirit magic were stored before the Prophet lifted the ban.”
“Do you think you can convince him to leave her side long enough to roust our Wizard of Mysteries from the dungeon where he’s been spending all his time lately?” She asked, using that tone of hers that left little doubt that she expected to be obeyed.
Beehn nodded and Darlan focused her attention on Charz. “Charz you can take that chest up to Locksher’s rooms. I’m sure he’ll be excited to look at it.”
The giant grunted irritably. “You’re not my mistress.” She gave him a wide-eyed look and he sighed. “Fine.”
She returned her gaze to the wizard. “Beehn, you and I will get word to Valtrek and the others. We’ll need to hold another council meeting over this.”
“But what do you want me to do?” Fist asked. “What should I tell them?”
“You, my apprentice, can march back out there and tell those ogres to set up camp. Tell them that you will need a couple days to make your decision. We can’t invite them in, but we will see that food is brought out to them and blankets if they need it. And later,” she gave him a pointed look. “You need to discuss this with my son.”
Chapter Five
By the time Justan finally crawled into his bedroll, he was well and truly ready to sleep. It wasn’t exhaustion that forced him to seek the solace of dreams, but rather the desire to escape the embarrassment of his day. Lying alone in the darkness of the small tent Jhonate had commandeered for him, Justan allowed himself to relax. Surely tomorrow would be better. It couldn’t possibly be worse.
The nightbeast could attack, Deathclaw offered.
Don’t borrow trouble, Justan said with a groan, quoting one of his mother’s favorite sayings.
What do you mean? Deathclaw’s confusion trickled through the bond. The raptoid was close by, keeping watch in a tree high above. Justan had set the tent below the tree specifically at Deathclaw’s request so that the raptoid could keep better watch over him.
It’s something my mother likes to say, Justan explained. It means that you shouldn’t worry about unlikely things.
Why? Gwyrtha asked. The rogue horse was lying right outside Justan’s tent flap. He could see her silhouette highlighted by the flicker of the camp fire. The two of them were determined to keep Justan safe and hadn’t strayed far from his side all day, which had led to some of the embarrassments he’d endured.
Because it’s a waste of time, Justan said, though there was more to it than that.
I think this is an unwise saying, Deathclaw said after some thought. How can one prepare for every eventuality if one does not think of them first?
It’s not saying that you shouldn’t be prepared, Justan said. It’s that you shouldn’t worry about everything. It is good to be ready in case something happens. It is not good to focus your thought on every possible bad thing that can happen to you.
Why? Gwyrtha asked.
Well, because if you worry all the time, you’ll be miserable, Justan replied.
Deathclaw gave him a mental snort. But you will be alive.
Perhaps, Justan admitted. But there is also the superstition that worrying about things too much can cause them to happen.
Oh, Gwyrtha said in understanding.
Deathclaw scoffed. Surely you do not believe this.
Justan shrugged. When things happen to you enough, you start to see connections. Then you start to believe them, he said, knowing that it would rile the raptoid’s sensibilities. Deathclaw understood more about humans every day, but there were some things Justan doubted he would ever be able to accept. I’m not saying that the superstition is true. I’m just saying that there is a pattern. If you search for trouble long enough, you are likely to find it.
Justan could sense Deathclaw shaking his head in disdain. Humans are ridiculous. If a problem is searched for and a problem is found, it is because the problem was there already.
Maybe. Justan smiled, deciding to needle the raptoid a little. But think about this, Deathclaw. What if the problem wasn’t there already? What if the act of searching for the problem is what caused the problem to appear.
Deathclaw mulled the concept over in his mind. I don’t see how that is likely. Perhaps in certain situations . . .
Thus the superstition, Justan said. Now I’m going to try and contact Fist. Do you want to join in?
Yes! replied Gwyrtha.
That would not be wise, Gwyrtha, said Deathclaw. We must focus on guarding Justan.
I will! she said insistently.
Communicating through the bond at great distances was a difficult process. It required a lot of concentration. For Deathclaw and Gwyrtha to join in, they had to add their own focus to the bond and that could be dangerous. The nightbeast was so good at disguising himself that it could take every bit of focus they had to find him before he came too close.
We can not afford to divert our attention, Deathclaw responded. Justan is at his most vulnerable while communicating with Fist. That means it would be the most opportune time for this Vahn to attack.
Remember what I said about borrowing trouble? Justan said. There is no way for Vahn to know that. Besides, the likelihood that he will attack again this soon is low. He needs to recruit more basilisks first. He said as much in his letter.
That is what you thought before he killed the elf, Deathclaw reminded him, his thoughts thick with irritation.
Justan winced. He had no defense for that bit of logic. He’d been replaying that moment over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out how he could have done things different. They’d all had their guard down at that moment. If they had remained vigilant, Yntri would still be alive.
He touched the bracelet of Jharro wood that was still tightly clamped to his wrist. When the elf had been alive, it had pulsed with life. Now it was dead, just a memory of Yntri’s presence.
Don’t be mean to Justan, Gwyrtha warned Deathclaw and Justan could hear her low growl issuing from just outside his tent.
No. Deathclaw is right, Justan told her. Then he directed his thoughts at the raptoid. The question is, can you detect the nightbeast on your own?
Deathclaw had spent much of the last day communicating with Gwyrtha on ways to identify the assassin. The rogue horse wasn’t completely sure why she had been able to see through the nightbeast’s disguise when Yntri Yni hadn’t. To hear her explain it, she had just known. Justan’s theory was that it had to do with how immensely detailed her senses were. She could smell, hear, and taste fine details that even the raptoid could not.
I am not sure. She tried to tell me and I think I have an understanding of how she identified him, but I cannot be sure until I see him for myself, Deathclaw admitted.
I’m sorry Gwyrtha, Justan said. What Deathclaw is trying to say is that he needs your help. He can’t protect me alone.
Ohh, Gwyrtha said. Okay. I will help.
That is not what I meant. The raptoid protested.
I’ll tell you both what happened afterwards, he assured them.
Justan prepared for the communication first by making himself as comfortable as possible which, in this case, meant climbing back out of his bedroll and removing a few small rocks that were poking him in the back. Then he eased back in and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he narrowed his focus.
Justan’s thoughts slid into the bond until he was only aware of the milky whiteness of its magic. He reached out and found the link that was his bond with Fist. When the ogre was close by, he could pass through without thinking about it, but the distance thinned the bond until its entrance was tiny.
Justan grasped that link and forced it to widen so that he could reach all the way through. The process only took a few seconds, but
it felt like minutes as his mind sped through the distance separating them until he felt the place where his thoughts ended and the ogre’s began. When he knew that he was finally there, he called out. Fist!
Justan! The ogre was there immediately. He must have been waiting for Justan to initiate the connection. This was unusual because it was later in the evening where Justan was. The ogre’s thoughts were both excited and worried. Oh, I have so much to tell you.
So do I, Justan said, comforted by the familiar feel of the ogre’s mind. Today was awful. I seemed to blunder from one embarrassing moment to another.
That sounds terrible, Fist said with genuine empathy. But when you hear what-.
I knew you would understand, Justan said. He didn’t let on to the others, but Fist was the one he liked talking to the most. While Deathclaw was good at analyzing a situation and while Justan found Gwyrtha’s innocent and childish simplicity refreshing, Fist was humble and his soul was filled with such an innate goodness and compassion that speaking with him just made Justan feel better.
He continued on, Today was the first full day of travel with the Roo-Tan and I discovered that Jhonate hadn’t fully prepared me for what I should expect.
She hadn’t? Fist asked.
No! Justan said, releasing some of that frustration as he blurted out his problems. She told me all about dining etiquette and how to deal with her people in the city, but she said nothing about the rules her people have regarding marching order.
The first thing I did when we left camp this morning was run up to join Jhonate as she was walking with her mother and Xedrion’s other wife. They looked at me like I’d grown an extra nose! Evidently, it is considered unseemly for an unmarried male to travel next to married females.
Jhonate could have warned you, Fist offered.
Exactly! Justan said. She should have noticed my approach through the ring she gave me but she wasn’t paying attention. So then I went back to join the rest of the men and rode Gwyrtha for awhile. I was there half the day before Deathclaw told me that he heard the men joking about how I was a lazy dry foot because I was riding instead of walking.
That’s because they don’t ride horses there, the ogre said patiently.
I understand that now, but it was yet another thing that she didn’t warn me about. Justan said. He was starting to feel a little guilty for complaining so much about Jhonate. With a sigh, he admitted, Then again, I suppose she didn’t have a reason to worry about it up until now because none of us rode on the way here. I guess if I were in her place, I might forget some things.
That’s true, Fist said. The ogre was eager to change the direction of the conversation, but Justan barreled on, oblivious.
Well I stopped riding Gwyrtha after that, but a while later I ran up to the front of the group, hoping to speak with Xedrion about those troll creatures. One of the guards told me that he was too busy to speak with me and I knew that wasn’t true because I could see him walking up ahead and he wasn’t speaking with anyone. By the way, have you had the chance to talk to Locksher about those troll creatures yet?
Uh, no, said Fist. So much happened today that I didn’t get to speak to him.
It’s important that he knows right away, Justan sent. I have a feeling that he’s going to want to come down here and see them for himself. Since Xedrion wouldn’t talk to me, I talked to Jhonate about it. She said that she would speak with him about allowing him into Malaroo since he’s somewhat of an expert on modified trolls. I thought about it quite a bit today and I think it’s possible that the rings of Stardeon have somehow made their way down here.
They never had recovered the rings after the war. They hadn’t been on Ewzad Vriil’s corpse and no one among the remnants of the enemy army seemed to know where they were.
I will try to tell him tomorrow, Fist promised. Now there are some things you should know about my day.
Just a minute. What else was I going to tell you? Oh yes, and then there’s the tents we have to use, Justan continued, so intent on unloading his problems that he didn’t register the ogre’s irritation. Jhonate found me one in decent shape, but these Roo-Tan tents are a pain to put up and when you’re sleeping inside them the walls are so thick that it’s hard to know what’s going on around you. I would have gone without it but, according to Jhonate, sleeping in a tent is a necessity in the wilds of Malaroo because the insects are so bad.
I almost died today, Fist said suddenly.
And then I . . . y-you what? Justan asked, all of his other concerns falling away. Are you okay? What happened?
I attempted a difficult spell while sparring with Charz and I was hit by my own lightning, Fist explained. Mistress Sherl says that I had stopped breathing until Charz revived me. It took her and two other wizards a long time to heal all the burns in my body.
Wow. I didn’t feel anything, Justan said. I should have felt something if you were hurt that bad. I wonder if it had something to do with how distracted I was with-.
Squirrel almost died, too. Because of me, Fist interrupted.
Oh . . . From the ogre’s tone, Justan finally realized that his problems were small in comparison to what Fist had been through that day. Fist, I’m sorry. I haven’t been letting you speak. Go on, you have my full attention. Is Squirrel alright?
Yes, but he might not have been, Fist said and Justan could feel his guilt through the bond, something that Justan well understood. He had felt that same guilt many times since learning that his death would mean the death of his bonded. Fist felt that understanding and took some comfort from it before adding, Also I found out that your great grandmother is alive.
Justan nearly lost control of the connection in his surprise. My great what?
Fist told him about his encounter with Sarine, pushing through his memories of her face, her voice, and her attitude. Then he proceeded to tell Justan about her powers and her bonded.
Justan absorbed it all in stunned silence and when Fist finished, he said, Unbelievable. My great grandmother is the famous Mistress Sarine. She was one of the eight companions of the Prophet. Wow. And she’s still alive . . . Justan felt an excitement rising within him. I need to tell this to Artemus.
Do you think he’ll listen? Fist asked.
I sure hope so. I’ve come so close to reaching him lately. I know he’s somewhere in there behind the Scralag’s eyes. Justan was eager to tell him. How could he resist the knowledge that his wife lives? What did Sarine say when she learned that Artemus’ spirit was still . . . around?
Your mother hasn’t told her yet. She says she will soon. Fist’s voice grew curious. You seem so excited about her being one of Big John’s companions.
Are you kidding? The Prophet’s companions were some of the biggest heroes of my childhood, Justan said enthusiastically. Every kid in Reneul learned about them. The academy had two enormous tapestries describing their battle in the council hall!
Justan realized that Fist knew very little about the stories, so he went on, There were eight companions and now that you told me that Sarine is a bonding wizard it makes a lot of sense. The stories never said what her powers were, just that she was a wizardess. She was one of the Mage School representatives along with Master Vlad, the air wizard. Then there were the representatives of the blood magic races; Bill, the Dwarf adventurer, Sir Kyrkon, the elven swordsman, and Cliff, the gnome warrior.
Kyrkon is named? Fist was surprised. Evidently his rune had been covered by the riding gloves he wore.
Yes, a named elf. I always thought that was fascinating. It’s even more so now that I know that he and Bill were bonded to Sarine. Let’s see, then there was the two academy-trained named warriors; Sir Blade, the swordmaster, and Sar Haft, the axewoman.
Sar? Fist asked.
A female named warrior. There haven’t been many so you don’t hear it very often. Justan paused. Uh, where was I? Right, the last member was Lester Muldroomon, the brother of the king. Justan sighed dreamily. There are so many stories I could tell
you about their battles. I’m not sure how many of them are true, but what am I saying? You don’t need me to tell you. You could ask Sarine herself. Or Bill or Kyrkon.
That’s a good idea, Fist said hesitantly. Maybe I will do that.
What is it? Justan could tell that Fist was getting frustrated again. I’m sorry. I started taking over the conversation again.
No, I’m interested in what you’re saying. It’s just that . . . There is something else I need to tell you. And it’s a big thing. Probably the biggest thing. The ogre frowned. Well, maybe it isn’t the biggest thing. But it’s the most important. Or at least it’s the one that’s the most important right now.
Go ahead, Justan didn’t know what could be possibly bigger than the things Fist had already told him, but he listened intently.
Crag came to the Mage School today. Fist told Justan what had happened with his father and all about the big decision facing him. Then he waited for Justan’s response.
Justan felt numb. Fist had been right. This was big and it scared him. So my mother is going to let you go?
She wasn’t clear, Fist said. His confusion leeched through the bond. She encouraged me to go, but she also admitted that it wasn’t a good idea. She was going to discuss it with the rest of the High Council and tell me what they decided in the morning.
I see, Justan said. He had received a similar reaction from Darlan when he’d first told her he was going to Training School. Do you want to go?
I-I don’t know, Fist admitted. He’s my father, but that doesn’t mean the same thing to ogres that it means to humans.
It doesn’t matter what it means to other ogres, Justan said. What does it mean to you?
There was a moment of silence while Fist thought about it. Again, I don’t know. Crag was never nice to me, and we didn’t agree about what was best for the tribe very often. But I made him proud with my accomplishments until the day I defied him in front of the tribe.
That’s when he called you ‘Toompa’, Justan said. In ogre culture that was the gravest insult that could be given to a male warrior. It was basically calling him an infant.
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