Then, John thought of his escape from the dungeon, of swimming the strait, of Golden and Platinia rowing after him.
"I have seen it done. In a row boat, no less. Across the narrows from the island to the mainland -- just back of the palace."
"Yes ... in that place. Too narrow for a whirl. But Malachite ships are there, now. Other places, it is too far. The Malachite navy patrols the whole island."
"And at night?"
"At night?" Coluth was as shocked as anyone from here would be that there could be outside activity at night, the slack skin around his mouth taut.
"Where does the Malachite navy go at night?"
"It goes to the tie up places."
"So, if we have to, we could row out at night."
"But we would be blind. The sea creatures ... monsters ..."
"I don't want to do that, but I tell you we could if we have to. For now, I want observers, spaced within line of sight, all around the island, checking on the movement of the Malachite fleet. I want to know anything the Malachites do that even looks suspicious. Is that understood?"
"And will you use your magic against them?" asked Etexin, hopefully.
"At the proper time. And let me assure you. I am with you now. There will be no more Crystal gazing on my part. I have learned everything I need to know."
"Thank you, great Mage," Etexin said, seeming both sincere and relieved.
"That will be all for today. Golden and Platinia to stay, all others to assume your duties."
When the Heads were gone, John was free to ask the question underlying this whole, confusing affair. "Tell me, Golden. When did you hear that the evil Mage was getting loose?"
"A long time ago."
"Would you say before Platinia and I were thrown into the dungeon? Think back."
"Long before that, great Mage."
So -- the "trouble" had not begun with Melcor's death.
"Do you remember an event that marked the beginning of these rumors?" That was how these people remembered everything -- by event instead of by date.
"It was near the time Pfnaravin left for the other world."
"A very long time ago."
"Thousands and thousands of up-lights, I have heard, before I was born."
"But after I came, it seems that the evil advanced more swiftly." Golden managed both to shrug and nod at the same time, the nod more vigorous than the shrug.
The picture was getting clearer. Four Mages had combined during the Great Mage War to beat the fifth -- the evil Mage-King, Auro. Each of the victorious Mages had contributed part of his power, first to black out the band over Azare, then to maintain the blackness. Why Pfnaravin had gone traveling -- apparently getting himself electrified by causing an earthquake -- was an open question.
Thinking about the dangers of such a trip, what seemed likely to John was that Pfnaravin had an early indication the evil was returning; had left to get help in what he thought of as a "magically superior" other world. Whatever the truth of that, when the Mage reached John's world he'd gotten stuck. Why? Because he lacked the static electricity it took to get back. (As a "foreigner" and a believer in magic, he wouldn't know about static electric generators like the one John had used to get across.)
"And am I to understand that Pfnaravin left his Crystal in this world?"
"You would know that, sir ..." Golden checked himself. Clearly, Golden, like Platinia, continued to think that John was Pfnaravin. And just as clearly, had learned that John didn't want him to believe that. "Yes. And Yarro stole it. But he could not use it because Pfnaravin," Golden couldn't help but nod in John's direction, "still lives. Yarro has hidden it somewhere in this palace. I am sure of that."
"And why was the green Crystal left behind?"
"You .... It must be that it is only for this world."
What Golden was saying was that, while Mages were free to "travel," their Crystals must remain behind. Just another magical oddity of the place.
This was fitting together nicely. Pfnaravin had left, leaving his Crystal which no one else could use, a consequence of his journey, that a fourth of the Mage alliance had "dropped out," so to speak. With Melcor's death, a second bulwark had fallen. Now, with the light failing over the other bands, it was a good guess that the evil Mage had found a way to "turn the tables" on his opponents.
Suddenly, John had a memory of a vision in the Weird's crystal, of a man in a circular room being crushed as the ceiling fell on him. Was this a flashback to Melcor's death? Of Melcor being killed as a result of trying to bring Pfnaravin back to help fight the evil, Platinia coming across to John's world by mistake? Was there a girl in the vision that John had seen? He thought so. Platinia?
No matter. Melcor's death took out a second Mage so that the power holding back the forces of evil was further reduced. No wonder everything was coming apart in this place. No wonder the Mage of Realgar wanted another meeting of Mages, to get things straightened out magically!
Such a meeting of Mages was still a possibility, though it would mean a night escape by small boat, getting far enough away before up-light to foil a Malachite pursuit. Dangerous.
For now, a more immediate problem must receive attention. John must check on the capital's food supply; find out how long Xanthin could hold out under siege.
It was getting late. He must eat. Get to his room before down-light canceled his ability to speak or to understand Stil-de-grainese.
John also had to admit to himself that the day's excitement had hidden another of his ... needs. To look in the Weird's Crystal. A ... pull. A compulsion that had overwhelmed him once already.
Though he also felt that with Platinia beside him, he could resist Crystal madness. Platinia. Making everything ... better ... just by her presence. Without her, would he be strong enough to resist the Crystal's fatal lure? No need to find out. Ever! "Platinia."
"Yes, great one?" she said in her tiny voice. Still seated at the table beside a silent Golden, the girl looked up.
"From now on, you will stay with me constantly. You are to be with me at supper tonight. You are to sleep in my room." Did he see a flicker of fear sweep her small face?
"I will have your bed moved in." Was terror still in her dark eyes?
Perhaps.
Fortunately, therapy for Platinia's feelings -- whatever they might be -- was something else he could postpone!
* * * * *
Chapter 20
It took the bureaucrats of the palace two weeks to assess the food supply of the island. Warehouses were visited. The capacity to produce food on the island estimated. Privately stored provisions counted. At the same time, John had the staff take a census to see how many people needed to be fed. And the bottom line was that, with the island's population eating two meager meals per day, Xanthin could withstand the blockade for two more months. (If they ate every dog, pony, and messenger bird, perhaps a week longer.)
Because John could be of no help in these kinds of evaluations, the "counting" was left to others. Then too, after forays to circle the island and review the troops, John had decided to stay in the palace except under the most extraordinary circumstances. In this, he was following the pattern set by the Roman Emperor, Diocletian. Living at a time when emperors were frequently assassinated, Diocletian deliberately cut himself off from his people to make it difficult for assassins to reach him. And this worked, Diocletian living into old age. What was of interest to John, however, was that there had been a curious by-product of Diocletian's isolation; separating himself from his people caused his "importance" to go up in their eyes, being denied access to the emperor making people imagine Diocletian to be greater than he was.
Applying that technique to his own situation, John hoped to become a figure of mystery to the people of Stil-de-grain, a sense of wonder about their Mage increasing John's power over them. (Also to be considered was the example of the Wizard of Oz who lost all credibility as soon as he came out from behind his fearsome mask!)
While
Xanthin's defensive situation was being appraised, another, smaller problem got an almost "magical" solution. The difficulty? What to do about the child king, Yarro II. John didn't have time for him, and yet the boy was the titular head of the country, everything that John commanded, done in the king's name.
What made John's position (vis-a-vis the child) less difficult was ... Coluth. With little to do after Coluth had counted Stil-de-grain's remaining ships (46 merchant vessels, 5 cruisers in fighting trim, another war ship that would be ready when repairs were completed to its rudder) Stil-de-grain's new navy Head took charge of the king. It was almost as if the weathered sea captain had found, in young Yarro, the son he never had.
Instead of the frightened, petulant child John had found when John first became Mage, John would see a happy, giggling Yarro being carried about the palace on Coluth's raw-boned shoulders. Or find the captain and the boy tucked into a quiet corner, both Coluth and the child delighting in tall tales of the sea.
In short, the "taming" of young Yarro let John get on with the defense of the realm, John's immediate problem: to find a way to drive off those Malachite cruisers.
Remembering the song, "Luck be a Lady Tonight," it was shortly after the final tallies were in that John lucked into a solution to the cruiser conundrum, John in the dado-paneled war room as usual, needing to "fix himself" in a single location where he could be reached with important information. Golden and Platinia were there, too, of course, Golden, because John wanted to know where the Malachite was at all times, Platinia, because the "pull" of Zwicia's Crystal on John was still strong enough that he felt better having Platinia beside him.
Was the Crystal's power over him like that of a magnet on iron; the closer you were to the disk, the stronger the "pull?" If so, John should send Zwicia as far away as possible. It was just that, John still thought that the Weird and her Crystal were his means of escaping this "other reality." (Either option was moot, of course, as long as he and Zwicia were trapped on the island.)
It was while John was thinking dark thoughts like these that a slavey ushered in Gagar with another bird-on-glove.
"Where does this one come from?" John asked as the "bird man" hippety-hopped forward to give his bobbing little bow.
"I cannot tell, great Mage," chirped Gagar. "I have not, of course, ordered it to deliver its message. And until I hear the speaking pattern of the bird, I will not know the source." Far from the lowly bird-tender John had taken Gagar to be, it was increasingly apparent that Gagar was central to Stil-de-grain's spy system. He was the man who "hatched" the birds, for instance (which meant in the language of John's world, that the birds were "imprinted" on Gagar,) Gagar, the man to whom the spy-birds returned. He was also in charge of sending intelligence men to other bands and of eliminating enemy spies on Xanthin island. (No more spies on Xanthin, was Gagar's claim. Said in such a way that John believed him.)
"All right then, fire it up."
"Fire it up ....??"
"Just an expression. Make it deliver its message."
At that, Gagar turned a sharp eye on Golden, Golden looking out a window, glumly. (Gagar already knew that the diminutive Platinia, cat in hand and "lost" in a chair designed for a person of normal size, was "safe.")
"It's all right. I have no secrets from my staff."
Satisfied, Gagar hopped a step closer and waved his hand, the bird cocking its head to one side, his (both Gagar and the bird's) beady yellow eyes on John.
"Help . we . are . under . attack . at . Carotene . by . the . army . of . Malachite . the . walls . hold . but . we . cannot . withstand . siege . for . more . then . one . hundred . fifty . up-lights . Realgar . army . too . few . to . defeat . massive . Malachite . forces."
"What!?" John shouted. Impossible! How could the Malachites be in two places at once, in ships off Xanthin and at the same time attacking this place called Carotene? ... Carotene. ... John knew it was a location that had been pointed out to him on Golden's map, but .... "Golden, where's Carotene?"
Though John was already up and on his way to the chart, Golden arrived before him, Golden pointing to the right, down-light side of the map.
"I see it, but what is it?"
"It is a city in Realgar."
"That's right. I remember. So, what's its military position? Have you ever been there?"
"Some years ago, sir. It is located on a steep hilltop behind double thick walls. Impregnable to attack."
"What about a siege?" Golden shrugged. "Apparently, they have a lot more food inside than we do, at least."
"Though landlocked," Golden added, "a branch of the Carotene river flows into the city through an iron-barred opening in the wall, great Mage. They will have water to drink, whatever happens." Fresh water wasn't Xanthin's problem either, situated as it was, on a fresh water port. From what John had seen, all water in this place was fresh. And what did that mean? That these Band-countries were so "new" that salt from the land had not yet leached into the sea? Or, thinking of something he remembered seeing in the Weird's Crystal, could the water system of this place be self-purifying: the sea constantly draining into the center of the world to be heated, boiling up from mountaintops as condensed steam, the rivers renewed as "distilled" water in that way? John's mind was wandering. Too many problems. Too few answers. It had been that way since he'd arrived in this strange place.
The mystery of the moment was, how the Malachite military could be attacking Carotine when the enemy, on Malachite cruisers, was keeping John et al bottled up on Xanthin island? John couldn't believe the Malachites had enough military strength both to hold down Xanthin and also to encircle Carotene.
So, what did it mean that Malachite was besieging the Realgar city?
The realization struck John like a revelation! Only one thing! That, no matter how it looked, the Malachites did not have their troops on those cruisers rowing about Xanthin island!
Now that John had begun to think along these lines, just how many war ships were patrolling Xanthin? He -- and everyone else -- had assumed that the whole Malachite navy, its army on board, lay just off the coast, but .... John looked over at Golden who had gone back to "window gazing."
"Golden. Find Etexin. I want to know how many Malachite cruisers are currently surrounding Xanthin. I think he's set up a signal system of some kind -- flags, smoke, runners; I don't trouble myself with the details. But it's my understanding he can communicate with the observers. One way or the other, I want to know how many Malachite ships are actually on patrol and I want to know today!"
"Yes, sir." And with his fluid motion, Golden "flowed" from of the room.
"You're sure this bird came from Realgar?" John asked, John still at the map trying to gauge the distance to Carotene from his experience of shipping out to Bice.
"I can be certain that it came from Carotene, sir. The agent, Uzze, taught it the message. I can tell by the pauses between the words as well as by ..."
"I'll take your word for it," John said, leaving the map, crossing the room to sit down again. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, it was all John could do to keep from smiling at the bird-like, pecking movements Gagar made when talking. Gagar even smelled like John's memory of the chicken coop he'd visited on his fourth grade's "Trip to a Farm."
A wave had Gagar packing up his bird, Gagar hopping from the room.
Nothing to do now but wait, waiting, something John did poorly.
Wait. Throughout the rest of the day, lunch brought to the war room, John then having to suffer a visit from his barber before spending the afternoon resolving minor problems of palace intrigue.
It was just before down-light when the Army Head reported in.
Twelve patrol ships.
The following day, the count taken this time in the morning: twelve Malachite cruisers.
In the afternoon, the same twelve war ships.
And that was the answer. While it seemed like more because they were constantly on the move, there were only twelve Malachi
te cruisers "holding down" Xanthin island, the rest of the Malachite fleet slipping away to cover the assault on Carotene! A bluff? Or was it that the Malachites thought twelve war ships were more than enough to defeat the remaining five or six Stil-de-grain cruisers?
It didn't matter. What did, was that the remaining Xanthin cruisers were equipped with their "virgin" rams.
The next two weeks seethed with activity! Using ropes and specially constructed, underwater grapples, Stil-de-grain tugs were used to drag the two sunken ships from the harbor mouth; shagging them back within the harbor and to one side so the entrance was clear once more. This was done at night to keep the Malachites -- at their tie-ups on the main coast -- from learning that the harbor was no longer obstructed. (As John had anticipated, it had taken all his "magic" to force men to work out of doors after dark. Even though everyone admitted there was little chance of the feared, nighttime animals entering a city!
At the same time, John saw to it that ten merchant ships were equipped with makeshift rams.
When all was ready, just at up-light, clothed in his complete Mage regalia including his sparkly, pointed hat, John had gone to the dock to threaten captains and crews with the most terrible magical punishments if they failed to follow orders to ram the enemy ships. That done, Coluth led the cruisers and converted merchant vessels out of the harbor.
Any nervousness John felt about his orders not being followed was relieved that afternoon when all Stil-de-grain ships returned to port, all twelve enemy ships, outnumbered and out "gunned" by the "modernized" ships of Stil-de-grain, sunk.
Wild rejoicing by the populous!
Medals conferred on one and all!
Following a day and a half of effusive compliments and congratulations from Etexin, as well as from Bachur, the palace Plenipotentiary, from Heimig, vice legate, from the paranymph, the kingly internuncio, from Aber, the prolocutor, and from various other palace functionaries -- including a little, memorized speech of thanks from the boy king himself (Coluth beaming in the background like any proud father) -- and John was finally free to carry out his overall strategy. Which was to use his merchant fleet to transport the Stil-de-grain army as close to Carotene as possible (without running the risk of alerting the Malachites) landing troops at that point, then marching them to Carotene. Done carefully, the arrival of the Stil-de-grain army should be a total surprise to the Malachites outside the Realgar city.
Under The Stairs Page 28
