Wings on my Back

by Alex Sapegin

  “Get all your trunks of dirty elven laundry and hang it out to dry. Through the papers, through rumors and through the salons and the high-born nobility. It should all come out in small portions at a time, but constantly. Garad,” (the chancellor stood up straight alongside the head of the Secret Chancellery.) “You’ll assist the Secret service in this endeavor. You’ll act as agents in the neighboring kingdoms as well. Don’t forget about the southerners and Rimm. Toss a couple of nasty stories about the Forest Lordships to King Hudd. That gossip will fan the fire. Don’t bother with the Patskoi Empire; their agents will fall for any material in our newspapers as it is. But it’s worth mentioning that we’ll block their merchants’ way if Pat decides to play the situation at our expense. Sator,” the king addressed his mage and first adviser, who was already standing alongside the other two. “Get in touch with the rectors of the Academy and the Orten School of Magic. Let Rector Etran know, in no uncertain terms, that she should get the story of Bahig Trekpaly out among the people, especially emphasizing the role of the Forest Elves in the deletion of this hero from the annals of history. Have them publish a couple of historical articles on the role of the Forest in the siege of Orten and why this siege took place. At the same time as this dirt on the Forest, we need to furnish an article on the heroic gray orcs, who were prepared to defend our lands with weapons in hand… well, I don’t need to tell you about it. Garad, get a couple of envoys ready in the north. Drang should provide cover. No one should know a thing—got it? Not even a fly on the wall. I’ll give you two weeks to prepare the envoys. After all preparatory work has been done and the messengers return, and after the gray orcs respond, we’ll denounce the Orten treaty and declare Penkur. Sator and Garad, you’re dismissed. Drang, a moment.”

  “Your highness, please excuse me, but I suggest that ‘sharing’ dirty laundry with the king of Rimm is not a worthwhile decision. Hudd is still restoring his palace, which was burnt down almost a year ago by some magically gifted slave. He doesn’t want to hear about anything else. After all, he has nowhere else to hold his games and merriment,” the chancellor said sarcastically, stopping at the doors of the receiving chamber.

  “I think you’re right Garad. We won’t involve this peon, who by some strange twist of fate wears the crown, in managing our affairs. Leave me alone with Drang.”

  The decision had been made; the tasks and priorities had been established; all that was left was to enact them. The chancellor and the Archmage left the receiving room and smoothly closed the door behind them. A triple “curtain of silence” cut the room off from the outside world. His majesty made sure they had privacy and no one was eavesdropping. Even in his own palace, a whole team of experienced mages worked to provide magical cover for all the king’s royal actions.

  Gil II turned from the wall near the window, walked over to the head of the knights of the cloak and dagger, looked him in the pockmarked face, and said:

  “Drang, I need an answer to a very natural question. Just one! Why have the Arians, who sat at their little forgotten corner of the world for gods know how long, suddenly packed up and headed south? Why didn’t they head south 1,500 years ago when they sunk the Grand Imperial Navy and overthrew the Empire of Alatar? Why did they sit idly during times of trouble when massacres were taking place all around? What prevented them from taking action? Why have they awoken now of all moments? You have every resource at your disposal. Do what you will, whatever it takes but get me my answer. Without knowing that, we’re blind. What will happen if they don’t limit themselves to the northern part of Alatar but continue on? I’d rather not become Gil the Last, oh I’d really rather not!”

  “Your majesty, I’ll do everything in my power and beyond,” Drang said quietly, with a harsh serious tone of voice, and the king believed him. All would be done: the possible and the impossible. “May I be dismissed?”

  “You may, Drang,” the king returned to the window. He needed to be alone.

  Two weeks later, several caravans departed from the city northward. No one suspected that not only merchants were leaving the town. No one bothered to notice how many known or unknown individuals remained in town. People went about their business, and no one had any idea that half of them were headed northward too. The next day, newspapers came out with very interesting articles… First a few damning articles, then a few more. Rumors started in the salons…

  Orten. The Orten School of Magic. Andy…

  “The ‘Grain of the World’ sailed through the murky gray mist, floating in the endless void. There was nothing around. As the legends say, the Creator breathed life into the Grain of the World and….”

  The school bell rang and interrupted the elderly professor’s lecture. The lesson was over. Master Grall Lago scowled in disappointment. He was toothless, apparently unable to afford a dentist’s services. The professor’s allowance went towards paying the expenses of his illegitimate children, of which Lago had four.

  “Read the treatise ‘Gulim’s Song’ for next class, and be ready to tell the story of the Birth of the World,” Lago called after the students with the homework assignment as they left the auditorium.

  Andy was one of the first ones to fly out of the room. Who would have thought that he could learn to sleep with his eyes open? Only three months ago, if someone had suggested that, he would have spit in the guy’s face! It was an interesting subject, but Grall Lago made it so boring. He lectured in his monotone droning on and on to the point where it was impossible not to fall asleep. He wasn’t a teacher; he was a weapon of mass somnolence. They should put him in the field before oncoming enemy armies with a lecture on the cause and effect relationship between red cockroaches’ level of mana and their ability to wield higher magic. Andy was willing to bet that in fifteen minutes, you could tie the school bullies up with yarn. They weren’t so scary in their sleep.

  “Kerr, do you know why the rector keeps this dinosaur on?” a disheveled Rigaud came out of the room stretching. His right cheek bore the signs of its unfailing love for his sleeve and the table top. He yawned contagiously and scratched his rear end. “Targ, my butt’s numb!”

  “Yes, I know why,” Andy answered simply.

  “Hey then, spill it!” A couple more kids joined them. They had been listening and also wanted to know.

  “Our rector, a kind woman, is looking after the teenage generation’s health. Rigaud, where else could you catch up on your sleep other than in Grall Lago’s class?”

  The bookworms around smiled; some chuckled. “About your butt being numb—well, it’s a curse. And it serves you right!”

  “What do you mean? Serves me what? What curse?” Rigaud asked, worried. He looked at Andy’s stone cold face and patted his bony bottom. “Are you serious?”

  “You’ve forgotten a bookworm’s first commandment! It’s inscribed in the eternal annals: ‘Thou shalt not snore during class, for a snore will wake thy neighbor!’”

  The students around him cracked up. He would have been willing to bet once more that by the next day, the whole school will have heard this new catchline and who came up with it. Rigaud threw himself at Andy amid the LOLs.

  “You jerk, Kerr! I thought you were serious, but you were just making fun! I hope your butt falls off!”

  “Alright, alright,” Andy put his hand on Rigaud’s shoulder. “You can console yourself with the fact that I couldn’t fall asleep you were snoring so loud, and I so wanted to. I had to put up a ‘curtain of silence’ around you since the master was already glancing your way quite suspiciously. I had to guard your slumber or you might wake up and the ‘curtain’ would fall. Let’s say we’re even.”

  “Okay, that’s just like you, anyway,” Rigaud muttered. “Where are you going now?”

  “To the library. You go to the dorm. Don’t forget, we still have gym this evening and tell Timur not to be late.” Rigaud let out a quiet groan of protest. “Come on, Slim. It’s not so bad. The master warms up on you and Timur and then creams me! But yo
u don’t hear me whining about it. Take care.”

  Andy waved his other hand and headed towards the Archives building, that is the library. I’m overwhelmed with work. And who’s to blame? It’s all me.

  Questions, only questions, so many questions. And how few answers he had gotten so far. Andy stopped at the library entrance. It was closed. Master Grall Grey must’ve been held up somewhere. I’ll wait. It was unusually quiet near the library complex today. No bookworms scurrying about. Even the birds in the park weren’t singing. They had taken shelter from the midday heat.

  Andy sat down on the marble staircase that had been warmed by the sun, leaned back against the warm railing, and closed his eyes. He had learned to wait patiently. If he had told anyone what he had been through besides his family in the valley or his own family back home, no one would have believed him. They would have thought a person can’t live like that and can’t take it. As his own experience showed, people are such cattle that they can live like that; they can take it. But it was hard. He was drinking down bitterness by the spoonful.

  He would battle the archival dust in order to find ancient manuscripts or chronicles with descriptions of a multitude of worlds and how they work. Mages had philosophical treatises on this topic, but he had yet to encounter the materials in his searches. It was too bad. If he could just start with one good source of information. Karegar had said that in his youth, experiments had been conducted in constructing inter-world gates. And it seemed as if they’d been successful. How many thousands of years ago now was Karegar’s youth?

  Several powerful warriors who had thundered onto Ilanta a thousand years ago brought not only many countries and peoples there, but also the work of ancient mages. The simple, according to Karegar, archival kran, which was now considered worth its weight in gold by mages, had formerly been used to share romance novels. Thinking about it for a few minutes, Andy drew a parallel between krans and computers. You could put information into a computer and one’s memories into a kran, then go back and look at them later. The local version of the family photo album or home videos, it was a circle the size of a matchbox. Jaga had given him one.

  He was just starting to doze off in the warm sunshine when his siesta was interrupted by the appearance of master grall Grey walking to the library for a class with an imposing woman in a blue camisole. Simplicity, elegance, no frills. Master Etran, the rector of the Orten School. She was one of the most powerful mages in Tantre, perhaps in all Alatar. We meet again, master rector. Etran hadn’t changed a bit from the moment of their first meeting three months ago. The memorable day of the entrance examination had added yet another surprise to the entire line of unexpected turns and chance meetings it turned out he was in for.

  He flashed back to the day…

  “Dearly esteemed bookworms of the Orten School of Magic,” Andy said with a bow to Rigaud and Timur and a broad welcoming gesture to the baronesses. “Marika, Irma, your hands please. Let’s go conquer the administration. The mages operating the arch said they’re waiting for us with great expectation….”

  They arrived at the administrative corpus, a five-story building of green limestone blocks decorated with friezes and bas-reliefs. It had tall windows which let in a great amount of light. It was a superb combination of beauty and functionality.

  “That way,” Rigaud pointed to an arrow that illuminated their way. Without it, things would have been confusing.

  The arrows pointed them to the side annex of the administration building. Inside, the annex looked like a typical office. There was a hallway with several doors to either side. A clerk sat behind a desk at the beginning of the hall.

  “Ladies to room five, please. Gentlemen to room six. Have the tokens given to you at the arch out and ready,” one of the clerks directed them. “After the recording, proceed to the main building. Use your eyes. Look carefully and follow the magical arrows. Otherwise, there have been those who got lost forever. What are you gaping at? Go on!”

  The three guys went into room five. It was a nice office with a good atmosphere, about twenty feet by twenty-five feet. There were five clerks at desks with account ledgers. They would ask them the following: name, age, species, country of origin, and title. I get it. They’re taking student information now, rather than at the arch before you even get in. Gotta keep records.

  A dozen or so new entrants to the School of different classes were hanging out in the room. They made their way to each desk by the established procedure, one after the other. Rigaud and Timur made up the bulk of the troops, and Andy was bringing up the rear. Hold on—he overheard a talk about assigning the dorm rooms at the nearest desk . Let’s try to get in the same one.

  “Sir,” Andy asked the clerk at the desk he was standing in front of, “would it be possible to put us in the same dormitory, if possible in neighboring rooms?”

  “That will be tricky, but I’ll see what I can do. As for you three…,” he paused and flipped through a few pages in a fat leather-bound notebook on the side of his desk. “Yes, I may have something available….”

  He subtly opened his palm not looking at Andy. The mongrel! Apparently, clerks here have learned how to make their subordinate position more bearable. Andy pondered for a moment. It would be a shame to lose the silver, but in this case it was worth it. He wasn’t one to encourage corruption, but he had very little choice. You gotta pick your battles!

  Andy greased his palm with a small leather purse drawn taught at the opening with a string. He glanced to the right and left, saw that no one was looking, and placed it in the clerk’s hand, wherein it disappeared under the desk at the speed of light. Guess that’s how they do things here. I’ll make a note of it.

  “Young man, please don’t interfere with my writing—you almost knocked over the ink,” he barked. What a showman!

  After the clerk had taken the information of the rest of the gang, it was Andy’s turn.

  “Name, species, last name, title?”

  “Kerrovitarr Dragon.”

  “Dragon? So you must be from the north.” Let him write that, if it suits him. A boy from the north. The “cubs” will think I’m a duke from the north. Is it alright that there are mostly chiefs, earls, hevds, and sea-kings there? The clerk leaned over the paper. “Let’s have a quick look. Is everyone there like you? What’s your title?”

  “Just put not applicable.”

  “What? Oh, I see—half orc, half human, half elf. What’s with your eyes?”

  “Please, be careful with that ink,” Andy cut him off.

  The clerk frowned, obviously not finding the humor in this response, but didn’t say anything.

  “Give me your token.” Andy laid it in his outstretched hand.

  “Well now, a universal! You have a mix of races, may the One God help you. I see you’re also a mage of Life and Death, oh la la! You’re a relic! What remote island did they dig you up on?” the clerk continued to blab on. “Your room is in dorm three, numbers nine, ten, and eleven. You’re lucky when it comes to the rooms, gentlemen. They’re nice apartments with a view of the Ort. Here’s the directions to all three rooms. No females allowed in the rooms after 10 p.m. No parties. If the resident assistant catches you, no amount of begging or bribing will help. Dismissed.”

  Andy took three smooth cardboard envelopes with directions to the rooms and the official room assignments. Pouring out thanks and short bows, he headed back to the hallway with Rigaud and Timur where the girls were already waiting for them. There were men’s and women’s dorms here, which all came with resident assistant and strict rules of discipline. Interesting… what other moral norms will we discover here? As a group, they all left the annex and headed towards the main building.

  A gigantic hall in the central building of the administrative corpus was packed to capacity. There was a din as if they were in an open-air market. Andy eyeballed the crowd and concluded there were about four hundred people present. Everyone was waiting for something. Three thousand applicants had
stood in the square in front of the School gates, which meant about one in every six or seven had made it through the arch. The chosen ones ruled.

  After a couple of telling blows from elbows in his side, Andy decided to look for a spot not as crowded. Glancing around, he saw one spot that might work: a vacant bunch of chairs near a balustrade on the second floor.

  Without a second thought, he herded his company up towards it. Why on earth was such a crowd milling about down here while a great spot like that lay empty? Apparently, no one had noticed them.

  What a pleasure it was to stretch one’s legs and sit down comfortably in a soft chair. Oh how sweet! Irma plopped down in the chair next to Andy and lowered her curly head onto Andy’s left shoulder. Rigaud and Marika did the same thing, grinning slyly, when they saw how their neighbors had positioned themselves. Timur, who had apparently said his piece in front of the arch, only blinked in surprise, but didn’t dare mettle. How else is a high-born supposed to react to that? So what if the grateful girl is acting very forwardly? It’s not my problem. Go, take the last seat before someone else beats you to it.

  Andy winked conspiratorially at Timur making him blush. Well now, I like how this guy gets embarrassed. An embarrassed Timur could surpass a boiled lobster in terms of red color.

  People kept piling into the hall. What did the School administration need to gather such a crowd for? The din and the smell of the mass of people started to annoy Andy. Even here, on the balustrade, the air was getting stuffy and smelly. Someone should at least open a window or we’ll soon have some fainters on our hands. Although, people are hardy here and not spoiled by civilization. The local ecology is truly awesome and unspoiled as well. People drink fresh milk every morning and eat fresh meat every evening. It’s a joy.

  Look, now there’s a nice sight to see! Andy gazed at the lace of a magical interweave. One of the professors was standing on a high pedestal, lifting his hands to weave the spell. A lacy radiance ascended, sparkling with little snowflakes and the beauty of frost patterns on a window during a cold winter. The snowflakes circled and twirled in a merry dance faster and faster. What a shame he couldn’t gaze at this beautiful sight with his true eyes. The world was brighter when he used to look around with his other kind of eyes. It was fuller, and the connection between living beings and the world around them became clear and distinct.