by Guy Antibes
“Hello, Mrs. Gougepenny. Won’t you come in?” Colcan’s spy had come calling. “How is Berin?”
That flustered the woman. “He is, he is fine. Much has happened since we last met.”
“I remember,” Valanna said. “We had tea in your rooms discussing Trak.”
The small woman’s cheeks had turned red with embarrassment. “Yes. You’ve seen Trak recently?”
“Weeks ago in Amorim. He intended to sail to Bennin on a mission for the Toryans, but I, uh, I had to leave abruptly, so we didn’t meet for very long.” Valanna felt her own cheeks grow hot. Her eyes lost their focus for a brief moment. “He was very fit. Yes, very fit.” She couldn’t feel more awkward. “Isn’t he banished from Colcan? What interest could you have in him now? He harbors no ill will towards you that I know of. We talked about that in Santasia.”
Valanna’s eyes began to water. She faked a cough. “How silly of me to come down with a cold at the beginning of winter.” She turned her head and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. When she looked at Mrs. Gougepenny, or actually Mrs. Titrius, if she had taken Berin’s surname as her own, Valanna was shocked by the compassion in the Colcan spy’s eyes.
“I knew you liked each other, and I can see how that your relationship with Trak has been difficult.” She put a hand on Valanna’s own. “I should know a thing or two about a remote relationship.”
“Difficult doesn’t even describe it, but I don’t know if you can even call it a relationship,” Valanna said. “I left him under more than difficult circumstances, I’m afraid, and I feel terrible about it.”
‘He doesn’t have anything to do with your purpose in Pestledown, does he?”
Valanna shook her head. “Trak is probably doing his best to forget me.”
“Maybe for a time, but I really think you will get together again. I honestly thought you two would go quite separate ways when the both of you left Pestledown, he to Santasia and you to Warish,.”
“I guess time will tell, but I’m trying to put it behind me until he pops up again,” Valanna said, forcing a smile. She knew her words were lies and could tell Mrs. Gougepenny did, too.
Valanna stood up. “Can I get you some tea? The pot is still hot.”
“You can call me Leaf, that is my real name.”
“I know.”
She giggled a little nervously. “I suppose you do. I see I interrupted your dinner.”
“There is honestly enough for the both of us. I haven’t really begun, would you like to join me,?”
Leaf settled back. “Oddly enough, I’d like to. We can have a frank chat that way…if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t,” Valanna said and felt the same.
As they ate, Valanna responded to Leaf’s questions on the events in Santasia. The Colcanans were interested in Santasia’s civil war and had a good idea of what happened, but not all the details. They knew little of what Trak had done in Torya.
“We made a mistake,” Leaf said after using her napkin. “A few of the Board, my husband included, feared Trak more than they should have. Benium knew of Trak’s potential better than the rest of us, and we drove him out, too, and now Ben leads the Espozian Magicians Guild.”
Valanna took a sip of her third cup of tea. The time had grown late. “I know that Trak harbors no ill will towards Colcan, and I don’t think Ben does either. You must understand that. Both would rather Colcan and Santasia settle their differences.”
Leaf sighed. “I think you are right. Riotro drove the Council into attacking us the last two times. We know that from Nullia.”
Valanna laughed. “Would you ever have thought that the two highest ranking members of the Santasian Magicians Guild would be Colcanans?”
“Three. Honor sits in council with them, but is not a formal member. It seems that Misson has an interest in her.”
Wouldn’t that upset Madame Barazzi? Valanna thought. She couldn’t help but smile. Good for Honor. She hoped that the former tutor could soften enough to return Misson’s interest. Surely she could do better than Valanna had to alternately grow hot and cold around Trak.
“Ah. Don’t you have any questions about why I have returned to Pestledown?”
Leaf put both hands on the table, palms down. “Colcan only observes what is happening in Pestle. If Warish has no designs on Colcan, then we can be, perhaps, not close friends, but women with common interests.”
“Common interests. It seems that is what binds us all in Pestledown. I’m here to find out if a third party has captured King Harl’s heart. I suspect Vashtan influence.”
Leaf nodded her head in the affirmative. “A good place to end our conversation, but you will need to connect a few strings to prove it. Most of us are of the same opinion, and the Vashtans worry me much more in the longer term than you Warishians do,” Leaf said. “Watch yourself and who you talk to.” She rose from her seat. “Our time together has been a very pleasant one for me. Let’s do it again, but at my rooms.” Leaf smiled.
Valanna joined her at the door and let her out. After nearly three hours, the words that Valanna had sought out for her mission were spoken at the very end.
Her tea had grown cold, so Valanna started a new pot. While she revived the fire in the stove, she leaned against the single counter of the kitchen area of her main room. Trak would have loved to renew his acquaintances with his old friends. Valanna didn’t know if they were her friends or not, but they all had given her the benefit of the doubt. Had any of them lied to her?
She thought back to Sunbeam, who had betrayed Trak and Honor in Gorinza. Even Colcanan bonded pairs could hide things from each other. What did Leaf hide? She seemed so benign, but she had survived as an information gatherer in Pestledown for at least four years and maybe more. She hadn’t shared much of anything about the state of Colcan or its capital city of Bitrium, other than the regret of how her husband had treated Trak.
Her words seemed honest and forthright, and that would have to do for now. Valanna knew that Colcan looked warily at Warish, but if Leaf were to be believed, the Colcanans didn’t look at her country as a rival, yet.
~
Other than a chance encounter with Podor Feely in the future, Valanna had exhausted her list of fellow spies to be contacted, so she thought she would walk the streets of Pestledown and listen to what its inhabitants had to say. That meant strolling in the marketplaces, spending time in shops and restaurants, with the hopes of overhearing something useful.
Doing so seemed to be a dreary task and one that she felt ill-suited for. Certainly Asem would have some contacts able to do a better job than a novice, such as herself, but Valanna did know her way around Pestledown. She thought Coffun Cricket could point her towards less obvious sources of information. Esmera seemed to be too strident a revolutionary, and Valanna was still a bit uncomfortable to impose on Leaf so soon after their last encounter.
Valanna decided to sit at the window of a teashop across from Podor Feely’s office building and wait until Coffun left for lunch. She observed Podor entering and leaving soon after. Coffun emerged a few minutes later and walked briskly down the street. Valanna had paid in advance for her tea, so she rushed out of the shop and followed him along the opposite sidewalk.
Coffun stopped to look in a shop window, and then entered and came out with a small package. Valanna took a deep breath and stepped down on the pavement.
“Miss Sleekbottle?” Podor said as he grabbed Valanna’s arm from behind. “Whatever has brought you to Pestledown?”
She tried to shake off Podor’s hand, but couldn’t. With the prohibition on the use of magic, the last person she had ever wanted to see again had caught her. “I’m here to see some old friends.”
Podor looked to where Coffun had stood and frowned. Had he expected Coffun to see them? Valanna quickly became confused. “Let go of me, or I’ll scream for the guards.”
He brought his face close to hers. She recoiled from his terrible breath. “You do that, Miss, and I’ll
tell them who you really are and where you are really from.”
“Warish isn’t at war with Pestle,” Valanna said.
“But magicians are still prohibited, no matter what the nationality. There are those in certain places who are interested in what you have to say.”
Podor hailed a carriage for hire and pushed her inside, giving the driver an address unfamiliar to Valanna. “You will meet them soon enough.”
She tried to twist Podor’s arm, but he quickly grabbed onto her other wrist and pressed his body on hers as she continued to squirm. “Attempt a pose and meet a quick death.”
Valanna realized that she couldn’t shake him off and went limp.
“That’s better. Fortune has shined on me today. Who were you looking for, Coffun Cricket? I thought I saw you looking at him when I found you.”
“I was just having some tea. I saw you depart from your office and noticed Coffun leave. If I wanted to talk to either of you, I would have climbed all the way up to your offices.”
“Mmmm. I suppose you are right.” Podor narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t say another word. Valanna tried to make out where the carriage headed as it passed by Honor Fidelia’s deserted old studio. The carriage made another turn and stopped in front of a dirty-windowed men’s clothing shop. Podor dragged her out of the carriage and crushed her wrist while he paid the driver.
“You are such an unfaithful wife! I don’t know what I did to deserve you!” he said for the benefit of the driver, who didn’t waste any time in leaving them at the curb.
Podor pushed her in the shop. “Timor, help me with Miss Sleekbottle.”
Valanna began to struggle anew with Timor Saddlebug, who had tried to assault her during her time with Trak. She didn’t expect any better treatment under his hands. “Let go of me!”
Timor held Valanna’s arms behind her back while Podor tied her up. “You won’t be able to use your magic on me, little girl.” He nodded to Timor. “Help me take her upstairs. We’ll get her secured, and then I’ll bring Lord Puddingfan here.”
“Can I play with her?” Timor said.
Podor shook his head. “It wouldn’t be prudent until Puddingfan has put her to his questions. He’ll want to find out why she’s here. Make sure Snively doesn’t hear about Valanna’s abduction.”
Podor acted like she wasn’t there, but he had managed to give her two names that she doubted she would have ever ferreted out. The name Snively seemed familiar, but she couldn’t match it to anything in her memory. Not that she could remember very much after being trussed up and pushed around like an animal headed for slaughter.
~~~
Chapter Nine
~
THE GUARDS SURPRISED TRAK, and he was just raising his arm when Jojo grasped Trak’s wrist. “Don’t try anything.”
Trak nodded and relaxed his unbound arm, well aware that the consequences of anything he did would be shared with his friend.
“What do you want with me?” Jojo said, turning back to Naroki, the Chief Guard of the prison camp.
“You both,” Naroki lifted his chin with disdain, “have the same visitors. Don’t try anything when you talk. We will be watching your every move.”
“Visitors?” Trak said while they were escorted to a different building in the camp.
“Perhaps Mori has come,” Jojo said, suddenly grinning. “She visits me from time to time.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, enduring the jeers from the guards, who prodded them with their crossbows while they delivered insults. When he entered the camp, he could catch about half of what the guards said, but now he comprehended most of their vile comments. Perhaps ignorance of the language might have been preferred.
Naroki shoved them both through a door into a room. A rectangular table and two chairs sat in the middle. Trak figured out that the guards wouldn’t want to help prisoners up and down to cushions on the floor.
A man and a woman were already seated at the table with their backs to them. Trak looked down and noticed that the chairs were attached to the floor. Perhaps the guards thought they might be used as weapons. Jojo didn’t look very concerned, so Trak tried to control his anxiety.
The guards ushered Jojo and Trak past the table to the other side.
“Sit down, sirs,” the man seated at the table said to Trak and his friend. Trak didn’t recognize him, but he did notice Mori, dressed quite differently from when she traveled with the merchant caravan.
“What do you want with us, Kanoki?” Jojo said glancing at Mori but glaring at the man.
Trak looked at Mori’s blank face and then at Kanoki’s reddening face.
“I can still get you out of here, you know.”
Jojo shook his head. “You can be assured that I’ll never join your cabal. I’ll stay here until I die.”
Kanoki smirked. “That can be much sooner than you intend, Lord Jomio.”
So Jojo was a nickname, Trak gathered. He could feel tension between the two men, but he didn’t know if it was real or feigned. Kanoki seemed to need Jojo more than the reverse. He couldn’t figure out why Mori sat so passively next to Jojo’s apparent adversary.
“I also control the fate of your cousin,” Kanoki looked over at Mori, whose eyes widened for the barest of moments and then looked frightened.
Jojo immediately stood up. “If you ever hope for my cooperation, you will leave Mori and the rest of my family out of your plots. I’m not without power, even in the depths of my incarceration.”
“Shinowa might have different thoughts about that,” Kanoki said.
Trak turned back to look at the Chief Guard, who puffed out his chest at the implications of Kanoki’s statement.
“Is my cousin treating you well? ” Mori said, looking directly at Trak. He could see concern on her face.
Her concern surprised Trak after the angry exchange between Jojo and Kanoki. “I am doing better than I expected,” he said.
Jojo cleared his throat and stood. He didn’t look very happy with Mori’s comment. “I think our little chat is over,” Jojo said, looking over at the Chief Guard. “Can we go now? I don’t want to miss my place in line at the mess building.”
Trak stood up along with him and withstood Kanoki’s glare.
Mori put out her hand and took Jojo’s. “Don’t worry about me,” she said.
“I won’t,” Jojo said as he gently pushed his cousin aside and let Trak follow him out of the building.
Once they had taken their permissible amount of food, Jojo sat down at the far end of a table.
“What was that all about?” Trak said.
Jojo laughed. “It was your introduction to one of my closest advisors.”
“Kanoki?”
“The same. Mori wanted the both of you to see each other and to give me a message.” Jojo raised his hand and showed a scrap of flesh-colored paper stuck to his palm. He took it off and quickly hid it in his clothing. “I’ll read it later. Now that you’ve seen Kanoki, can you remember his face?”
Trak nodded. “Especially his glare at the end.”
“You may see that glare again, since he is a functionary of the Central Committee in Beniko and may have to play his part again before this is all over. I didn’t joke about having power outside of the prison camp. Eat quickly, since the interview may cost us our second helping.”
Trak didn’t say another word. Both of them were able to go back for seconds, and then walked back to their barracks. He saw Sirul shuffling along with his group, and that gave Trak an opportunity to give Sirul a wink of encouragement. The Toryan seemed to walk a little straighter after they made eye contact, and that lightened Trak’s spirits.
The next morning, after filling their cart, Jojo pulled out the message his cousin had given him. “It looks like we will have to move sooner than later.”
“We? I haven’t given you my decision yet. I won’t leave my Toryan friends behind,” Trak said.
Jojo
grimaced. “It’s for my cause to free Bennin.”
“Your cause, not mine. I’m just here to return the princess to Torya, so I’ll need my Toryan friends to rescue the princess. I have no idea what she looks like, and Sirul is her cousin. I need Tembul to help with her protection on the journey back.” Trak didn’t want an argument with Jojo, but he had journeyed to Bennin with one goal in mind. With Jojo’s strong personality, Trak had to bolster his confidence, so that he would be able to persuade him to free his friends. Trak didn’t bluff about the need for his friends’ release.
Jojo narrowed his eyes. “All right. You will be responsible for looking over them. I have allies on the other two Shifts, so their extraction from the work teams has a chance for success.” Jojo tossed the paper to the ground. “Can you burn that paper slowly?” He backed against the wall of the mineshaft.
A test? Trak nodded. “I can do that.” He noticed that Jojo had changed the subject, but he was okay with that since he had given Trak at least a weak commitment to assist his friends’ escape, and that was a start. Trak thought about the fire pose to get his mind in the mood to project a flame, and then he banished the pose from his mind. Posing in his mind would just slow him up in a duel with another poseless magician, so he conjured up a tiny stream of flame in his mind and extended his finger.
He thought of a tiny spurt of flame leaving him and igniting the paper. He took a breath, ready to burn the message.
“I’ve changed my mind about your friends” Jojo said without emotion.
Trak filled with anger at Jojo’s betrayal and blasted the paper with a sheet of intense fire. He sat back, drained a bit.
“You lost your composure and nearly lost control.”
Trak turned back to Jojo. “You didn’t really change your mind?”
“No, but I wanted to upset you when you cast the spell. What did you just learn?”
Trak sat down and gazed at the scorched earth for more than a few moments. It ran past where the paper had been and darkened the wall of the mineshaft. “Distraction is a very dangerous thing,” he said putting his hands to his head. “Emotions can fuel the power expended on a spell as well. I learned that poseless magic has the potential to be very dangerous, if you lose the composure to control it.”
