The small section of the ruins that the Mhajhkaeirii had commandeered was a quite busy place during the day. Everyone, it seemed, was working. Civilians and armsmen alike, save for those on lookout duty at the apex of the square tower, had attacked the task of renovating the buildings with a decided passion. Where needed, permanent roofs and floors were under construction and masons had already begun repairing walls, arches and buttresses. In some areas, small trees, evergreens for the most part, had taken root, and gangs were industriously clearing these out. Individuals and smaller groups, many composed of younger children, were clearing plots of open ground of stones, small bushes, and weeds in preparation for the planting of vegetables.
Practically all paused to wave as Mar and his escorts passed, and he made sure to wave and smile in return. While his wave was reflexive, his smile was not. There was something undeniably enervating about all the attention.
As he climbed the damaged steps to the courtyard of Telriy's villa, Mar encountered two of Quaestor Eishtren's men and an adolescent girl, obviously standing guard. While both legionnaires simply saluted and stood aside, the girl ran off immediately, no doubt to relay news of his arrival. Only a small portion of the cracked pavement of the courtyard beyond had been unearthed, but the rest of Eishtren's Auxiliaries were digging eagerly if inexpertly, filling buckets with sand and earth and emptying them out through a large hole in the wall at the north end. Ramps and scaffolds had been erected to access the hole, and though the youths struggled upwards with full buckets, they raced downward with the empties, displaying utter abandon, and seemed to be having riotous fun.
Signifier Aael, ensconced in his floating chair, supervised with good-natured gruffness. Inspired by his own recent experience of limited mobility, Mar had spent some time crafting the modulations that gave the amputee near complete freedom of movement. The chair would not tip in any attitude, even under the largest of weights -- Mar had asked Mhiskva to test it by standing upon it -- but would rise or descend to follow slopes or stairs and move in any lateral direction with the application of a moderate force. Aael had mastered the process in short order, navigating with two shortened spear shafts, and had achieved speeds equal to a sprinting man.
Telriy appeared between two columns on the second floor balcony of the structure to the right. Dressed in dusty trousers and a stained white cotton blouse, with her hair pulled back in a single braid draped down the center of her back, it was apparent that she too had been industriously engaged in the cleansing of her new abode.
She smiled and gave him a half wave. "Come on up."
Mar, his brigandine now the fundamental component of his wardrobe, flew up and settled lightly beside her. The legionnaires and marines of his guard watched him land, glanced at each other for a moment, and then went to help the Auxiliaries.
Telriy grinned at him. "You should teach me how to do that."
"It's a variation of the flux that goes into the skyships. You just have to get the sound-colors right."
Telriy chuckled. "It's not as simple as you make it sound. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thanks. I'd like to talk to you about Oyraebos' texts."
She raised her eyebrows slightly, but her expression betrayed no other commentary. "Alright. Let's go inside."
Beyond the balcony, a wide, well-swept corridor led by dark, doorless side rooms still choked with dirt and dross. The room at the end likewise had no door, but was larger and had expansive, marble-cased openings that stretched along the entirety of one wall. Looking north out over the ruins, these glassless windows admitted quite a bit of light. The room was spotless, with solid, rough walls and a worn, set stone floor that had stained outlines suggesting that it had once have boasted a tile mosaic. A delicate oak chair and matching table, artisan made and varnished, sat adjacent to the windows and a more ruggedly carpentered four-post bedstead against the facing wall. Formed of rough sawn pine, the bed had a beautifully patterned quilt spread upon its thin tick mattress. Supporting some neatly folded clothing, a water bucket, and a large copper basin, a shelf made from stacked salvaged stone blocks and rough lumber rested against the right wall.
"There's only one chair," Telriy told him breezily. "We can sit on the bed."
She went to the bed, slipped her feet from the sandals that she wore, nudged them precisely underneath, sat down primly with one leg tucked under her, then patted the quilt beside her.
Mar followed, and sat warily, leaving an armlength's space between them.
"Don't get those dusty boots on the bed," Telriy warned him with another smile. "We have to haul water and washing bedclothes is a major chore." She pursed her lips. "Here, let me get them off."
Before he could protest, she got up, reached down to grab his right boot, and tugged if off, leaving him the option of having one bare foot or two. Rather than make some absurd sounding complaint, he complacently raised his left leg when she gestured for it. Wrinkling her nose, she placed the boots together beneath the bed, and then walked over to the shelf. After pouring the basin half full, she tucked a cloth in the waistband of her trousers and returned, the basin cradled carefully in her arms.
Wondering at her curious behavior, he asked, "What's that for?"
"Your feet stink. You should wear socks."
"Socks are in short supply." In Khalar, he had routinely stolen socks from clotheslines in the winter, but normally did not bother with them and certainly had not made them a major concern since the retreat from Mhajhkaei.
Careful not to spill any of its contents, Telriy placed the basin on the stones beside him, returned to the shelf, and unwrapped a half cake of yellow soap from a scrap of muslin.
"Where'd you get that?" The lack of soap was a daily complaint among the Mhajhkaeirii civilians.
"Yhejia bought it for me from an old woman that knows how to make it. It cost twenty-five thal."
Mar started to ask where she had gotten the money, but decided against it. He remained cooperative while she knelt and bathed his feet and ankles efficiently and thoroughly, but when she rose up and reached for the buckles of his brigandine, he caught her hands.
"Hold on."
She did not resist his grip, but rather leaned in close and gave a loud sniff. "From the smell, the rest of you could use a bath as well."
"I'll be alright."
She frowned. "You're not getting in my bed without a bath."
He tensed, but did not release her hands. "I think you've gotten the wrong idea."
"Do you want to discuss The Mother of the Seas?"
"That's what I said."
"I've already told you my terms."
"I still don't think that would be a good idea right now."
"We won't be disturbed. Making a baby isn't complicated and it doesn't have to take very long ... if that's what you want. My grandmother, though, said it's better if --"
Moved by a sudden impulse, Mar pulled her down onto his lap and slid one arm around her waist. She stiffened, but then made a visible, if not completely successful, effort to relax. For all her nonchalance, as he had sensed, she was almost certainly as lacking in direct practical experience as he was.
Then, with a certain amount of deliberation, she put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him lightly on the neck. The warmth of her body, the welcome weight of her pleasantly soft bottom on his lap, and the energizing touch of her skin made him feel a desperate desire that almost overwhelmed his resolve.
"I still want you to have a bath first," she said softly into his ear.
He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. "Where's The Mother of the Seas?"
She leaned back and glared with some exasperation. "Baby first."
"No, you tell me how to find Oyraebos' second text and then I'll give you what you want."
She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Mar. What I'm giving you is one thing that any man would be quite eager to receive from a woman. I know for certain that you'll enjoy the experience and cannot possibly imagine that
you'd feel cheated in any way by our bargain. Let's be clear. I don't simply want to be with you for one afternoon or for one night. I want you to be with me until I can confirm that I'm with child. After that, I'll tell you what I read in the book."
"How about a compromise?" His scheme was simple -- lie and delay, and when necessary, lie some more.
Eyeing him with some suspicion, she prompted, "Explain."
"We can conduct our exchange at the same time. We'll begin the search for the text and during the trip I'll perform my duties as required."
"You sound like a farrier agreeing to shoe a horse."
Mar could not help but smile.
Telriy responded with a dismissive puff of air, then asked, "So, I would only have to reveal a portion of the directions per episode?"
"Yes."
After several moments of silent thought, she nodded. "Alright. I agree."
"To plan for the trip, I'll need a starting direction."
"We should go north from here."
"North? Not south?"
"Yes, north."
"You were letting Waleck lead us in the wrong direction."
She shrugged.
"Back to Khalar?"
"Not specifically, no."
"How far north, then?"
"I'll tell you that later." She tightened her arms about him. "Unless you want to get started now?"
With supreme reluctance, he disengaged from her embrace, slid her, unprotesting, onto the bed, and got up. "I've promised Berhl that I would raise more roof beams for the carpenters today."
With a sigh, she pulled her sandals from under the bed, put them on, and got up. "And I have a lot of work to do here."
As Mar reached the edge of the balcony, preparing to fly down, she caught his arm and, in full view of everyone, gave him a brazen kiss, hot and full mouthed. Slightly dazed, it took every ounce of his willpower to step away and descend to the courtyard.
Halfway down the curving stair, Phehlahm, with exaggerated casualness and a barely repressed smile, mentioned, "It's good to see you and the Queen gettin' on better."
Aside from a half-voiced grunt, Mar made no comment.
"By the way, my lord king, you forgot your boots."
TWENTY-NINE
Mar's original plan for his expedition had been to grab the rowboat, or have a barely larger vessel built, something that would permit him to move quickly and unobtrusively, and take off. He had assumed that it would be no more difficult than that. Just as soon as he completed his project for the aerial defense of the Monolith, he and Telriy would jump aboard with the bare minimum of supplies and streak away.
With almost unanimous agreement, everyone else opposed this intention out of hand. From Lord Ghorn on down, the Mhajhkaeirii proclaimed it completely unacceptable. The prince urged him to simply abandon the idea altogether. Berhl and Aerlon suggested that he await the construction of a proposed fleet of war ready skyships, a project that would take at least a year. The two had begun championing a new design that would create iron-plated behemoths half the size of a city block. Mhiskva had argued that the king should never venture from the Monolith with less than a full retinue of five full troops of marines.
Mar, growing daily more comfortable with the supposed authority of his artificial role, gleefully and unilaterally vetoed all of these proposals.
However, it was Telriy herself who settled the issue by declaring adamantly that she would only travel in Number One with her experienced crew, specifically not excluding the Auxiliaries or her so-called household staff -- Ulor's wife Yhejia and her extended family.
With no bargaining leverage and his titular power ignored completely by the young woman, he had no choice but to accept this stipulation, but did succeed in restricting the additional crew insisted upon by Lord Ghorn to nine -- Ulor, who would also act as standby pilot, and two quads of guards, specifically including Phehlahm, Chaer and E'hve.
Aerlon then raised a new objection. If all three of the most accomplished skyship pilots were to depart, how would the Monolith be supplied? As this question threatened to again scuttle the expedition, Mar had to take out the time to drill Wloblh, Mrye, Srye, Trea, and Ihlvoh until the five could demonstrate to everyone's satisfaction that they could independently, competently, and reliably, if occasionally erratically, operate the skyships needed to transport wood from the forest, fish from the river village, and other supplies from the provinces. Grandmother Heldhaen, though she continued to practice with a single-minded diligence, had not yet succeeded in controlling anything larger than a wooden saucer with any modest proficiency.
For a full fortnight, while Berhl oversaw modifications to Number One, adding weather tight cabins, storage spaces, reinforced hull planking, and a shielding bulwark around the steerage platform, Mar made sand spheres.
Finally, when he thought he had enough, he invited Lord Ghorn and his senior officers to the top of the Docking Tower, as the square tower had come to be known, to observe a demonstration of his newest magical effort. He was confident in his plan, but felt that a practical example would better convince the Mhajhkaeirii than a verbal description.
The upper platform of the tower, some fifty paces square, had lost its crenellated walls, but Berhl's carpenters had added waist high wooden railings. As there were always four quads of lookouts stationed here, eight armsmen watching while eight rested, a collection of tables and stools had been brought up and a shaded area provided under an arbour covered with a tent. Luckily, since it had been raining heavily since daybreak, the tent was also sound enough to shed water.
While the fat drops pelted down without any sign of let up, Mar waited beneath the tent with Chaer, E'hve, and the men of the resting watch. The canvas kept the rain from falling directly down the stairwell, but sandbags had been needed to keep the puddling water draining across the flagstone deck of the platform out of the shaft. From time to time, one of the legionnaires would get up and use a pole to dump out water that collected in sags in the tent.
While he had no great fondness for venturing out in the rain -- he had too many unpleasant memories that usually involved being soaked, shivering, and chased -- and might have preferred to wait until a better day, the nastiness did have two advantages for his purposes. First, with practically all exterior work in abeyance, he had had no lack of volunteers to help move his more than five thousand sand spheres to the tower. Second, an exhibition in the rain of his modified spheres would demonstrate that his magic would not be adversely affected by inclement conditions.
The prince arrived within fifteen minutes of Mar's dispatch of Phehlahm with the invitation. Accompanying him were Lord Purhlea, Aerlon, Berhl, Mhiskva, half a dozen under officers, and Shipwright Khlosb'ihs, who, having been given charge of the ongoing conversion of Number Nine, had recently joined the Prince-Commander's staff. There was no room for this crowd under the tent and without hesitation, Lord Ghorn led his staff out into the rain. All of the officers, like the legionnaires on watch, were wrapped securely in oilcloth greatcloaks and moved through the streaming water with little concern. Khlosb'ihs, however, had only a wool topcoat and floppy leather hat and looked entirely miserable.
The prince, water streaming from his greatcloak and helmet, asked Mar cheerfully, "What new marvel have you for us today, my lord magician?"
"A means of aerial defense for the Monolith that can be used while I'm away."
The Prince-Commander glanced at the buckets resting on one of the tables. "Excellent. Could this new spell be applied to our own skyships?"
"Unfortunately, no. It's just an adaptation of the magic that I already know. I'd like to show you how it'll work."
"Of course."
With the officers and the idling legionnaires observing him with near predatory intensity, Mar took a sphere, rapidly brought up his arm, then dropped it onto the damp stone. Only Lord Ghorn did not react. Mar's own guards knew what to expect, but some of the watchmen ducked or dove flat to the platform. The officers of the s
taff flinched to a greater or lesser extent. Mhiskva, who now had considerable direct experience with the destructive power of the spheres, turned his head and threw up his arm to protect his face.
There was no explosion, however. The sphere only bounced and rolled, lodging in a joint between two flagstones, where it spun for a few seconds before becoming still.
"I've reduced the amount of energetic flux by half and locked it into the matrix in a more stable fashion," Mar explained. "These spheres are safer to handle and not liable to detonate accidentally." He retrieved the sphere and quickly spelled it so that it flew off into the rain. When it was about thirty armlengths out, he nodded at E'hve, who stood by with a cocked crossbow. The legionnaire brought the butt of the weapon to his shoulder and fired.
E'hve's aim was perfect and the bolt flashed out and pierced the sphere. The force of the ten-armlength diameter detonation lit up the gray downpour, sprayed Mar and the others with a wash of mist, and made the tent overhead snap in the staccato turbulence.
"It takes considerable speed and force to rupture these," Mar told his audience. He took another two spheres, raised them above his head, and left them hanging. As soon as he stood aside, Chaer, as they had previously practiced, stepped in his place, grabbed the floating spheres, one in each hand, and then pulled himself upward, raising his boots completely off the flagstones. The spheres did not bobble or budge.
"But once fixed in place using an equalized driving force that pushes in every direction at the same time, they cannot, as far as I have been able to determine, be moved. I'm going to arrange several thousand of these above and around the occupied area of the Monolith in the shape of a dome."
Key to Magic 03 King Page 20
