by Guy Antibes
That made her mother laugh, more tinkling bells, but Sulm only managed to give Vish a half smile. “Thank you, Vish,” the princess said. “There has only been one of your many brothers who has tested sufficiently sensitive to be schooled by the Sorcerer’s, so your chances of failure are good.” Sulm flashed a quick, frightened look at Yalla.
Sulm excused himself before Vish had even started to eat.
“Mother, will I have power?”
She looked towards the door where Sulm exited. “I don’t know, but you are the 22nd son of the Emperor of Dakkor. Older sons have always had a bad habit of getting the younger ones out of the way. It has ever been so.” She hugged Vish. “Any edge you might have that will keep you alive longer is a good thing. If you have power, grasp it and learn it quickly, so you can survive.”
Yalla’s words disturbed Vish. He barely made it through numbers after the mid-day meal, and Sulm didn’t have the usual enthusiasm, either. Did his tutor know more about the situation than Vish knew?
“You aren’t happy about the testing?”
Sulm looked out the open window, his gaze focused far, far away. “No,” He looked at his hands and then at Vish, “you are a very bright boy. Most of the times exceptionally bright boys have some Affinity. Even I have traces. It’s not a certain thing, but I think the chances are good that you will move on from my tutelage.”
That didn’t match what he said earlier. “You told my mother--”
“I told your mother something to soothe her and something to soothe me.” Sulm took a deep breath. “I will leave now and be back to escort you to the Sorcerer’s Tower tomorrow.” He turned and walked out the door, his shoulders and head bent down just enough to convince Vish his life might be about to change.
Sulm didn’t bother to hide his true feelings with ‘perspective,’ that was clear. Sulm’s sadness had infected him. He did not look forward to tomorrow.
~
To Vish’s new way of seeing things, the Sorcerer’s Tower ended up much like the Thousand Steps. A clump of buildings surrounded the tower’s base. As they walked down, from the Palace Hill, he could count at least ten or fifteen little towers around one somewhat higher than the rest. Calling the compound with the name of a single tower evidently put more ‘perspective’ into play.
Red marble covered the surface of the stubby towers and the same color stone found a place on all the buildings that Vish could see. Some only had a line of reddish stone at the top. Others had window trim out the material and he saw another with bands of red contrasting with the yellowish tan stone used for everything else in the imperial city except for the palace itself. Trees and bushes growing at their bases softened up the buildings.
Sulm didn’t say a word. His normal pedantic mood had given way to something else that Vish couldn’t recognize. He carried himself with a cloak of seriousness, perhaps. Vish would do the same. He put a fierce frown on his face and continued on, adding a furrowed brow.
“In here,” Sulm said. They entered a large hallway that instantly cooled them from the hot sun outside. Sulm led him to a desk underneath a curving stair that seemed to float away from the walls.
“Vishan Daryaku,” Vish said. “I have come for testing.”
The young man raised hooded eyes at Sulm. “And you are?”
“Just going. I am his tutor and escorted Prince Vishan and have fulfilled Princess Yalla’s wishes.” He turned around and left the way they entered.
Vish smiled. He liked the way Sulm ended the snooty man’s sentence.
“No smiling during the test. This is a serious time in your life, Prince Daryaku. You aren’t the first of the Emperor’s children to enter these walls, nor will you be the last.”
Vish’s eyebrows rose. “Are any being taught in this tower?”
The sorcerer frowned. “Do not talk, either.” He ignored Vish’s question and rose from his desk, stepping across the large sterile hall to a door. Vish stayed rooted to where he was. “Aren’t you coming?” the man said.
Vish pursed his lips. No smiling. No talking. He didn’t like this place at all, and reluctantly followed the sorcerer.
The room consisted of a table with two chairs facing each other. A battered brass box sat on the table. Something about the whole setup to the room made Vish’s skin crawl.
“Sit and a tester will come soon. There will be others in the room to witness.” The man left.
The room was warmer than the lobby. He rubbed his hand over the old worn table, except it didn’t feel like wood. The worn corners didn’t seem worn at all underneath his touch. There were no windows, yet he could feel the hint of a warm breeze.
He rose from the chair and followed the air currents to the blank wall. He put out his hand to touch the dirty stone, but his eyebrows rose when his hand and half of his forearm disappeared as he plunged them into… nothing. He felt the sun on the skin of his hand. For the first time he wondered if what Sulm called perspective was, in actuality, deception. There was deception in this room.
Vish had seen enough to know he’d been tricked and sat back down. The brass box still seemed intact as his fingers brushed against the design hammered into the metal.
“Young Daryaku,” a shaven headed old man said. The sorcerer walked slowly into the room staying as stiff as an iron rod. His costume seemed to come from old pictures Vish had seen. What was the word Sulm used? Archaic. That meant old-fashioned. Sorcerers didn’t dress like this when visiting the palace. “You have examined the room?”
Vish thought that one of the walls must have contained a window or opening so they could see him as he sat. “Only part of it. This table is made of stone. There’s an open window over there.” He pointed to where his arm disappeared. “The box is made of metal, but I can’t tell if it is brass or something else. I didn’t have to use any magic to find this out. My senses told me all I needed to know.” That should put the old man in his place.
The old man took his time sitting in the chair across from Vish. He moved slowly and seemed to be in pain. Vish could smell a strong sickly sweet odor coming from the sorcerer. The man, along with the whole room, repelled him
“Is there any way I can help you?” Vish could nearly feel the old man’s discomfort and tried to be polite where the sorcerer at the desk was nasty.
“No, but thank you for asking. I am your tester. You have already shown promise.”
Those words were not what Vish wanted to hear. That meant his life would change. Sulm would not like it and he wasn’t sure about his mother. Did she deceive him? Vish didn’t feel right about a lot of things at the present.
“What would you have me do?”
The sorcerer lifted his chin and opened the box. The lid hid the contents from Vish. “Here hold this.” He offered a simple stone ball. “Say the words: Show my power.”
Vish took it and recited the phrase. The ball glowed with different colors swirling around inside of it. “Is this the test?” The glowing part made him uncomfortable and he had to shift in his chair.
“An important part, but not the only part. Read this.”
Vish examined the proffered scroll. It smelled old and unpleasant. “I hereby pledge my life and loyalty to the Dakkoran Sorcerer’s Cabal to the exclusion of all else.” He looked at the sorcerer. “I don’t agree with this. It would make me an enemy of my father.” They were trying to trick him!
“There are many loyalties one might have, Young Daryaku. Ours would be one of many. You are loyal to your mother?”
“Of course,” Vish said. What did this man mean?
“And you are loyal to your father?”
“I am. He is the Emperor.”
“What if your father commanded you to kill your mother? Whose loyalty would win out?”
Vish put his hand to his forehead. Why would this man ask him to do such terrible things and make such an awful choice?
“I would tell him I wouldn’t kill my mother. Someone else could do it.” Is that how he really fe
lt? He knew he couldn’t stand by and watch another take his mother’s life. He couldn’t retract the words in front of this terrible man.
“Ah. So your loyalties are split. So it is with all loyalties. But loyalty can be bought and we buy it with teaching you how to tap into the power of the nexus. You have sufficient power. The ball shows it.”
Vish rose from his seat. “I won’t. I love my mother and I love my father.” He didn’t really love his father. He feared his father, but he wouldn’t say that here, but would exercise a bit of perspective with this old stinky man. “I’m leaving. I won’t take the test.”
“Think about what I have said. We will speak to your father about your test results. You may go.” The sorcerer waved his hand and muttered some words. The room changed. Gone were the illusions. Four sorcerers stood at an opening into the room. They didn’t look pleased. He rose from his seat, moving carefully and opened the door. He’d never been so scared in his entire life.
Vish tried not to run out of it, but he couldn’t keep his feet from shuffling quickly as he quickly glanced at the man at the desk and bolted out the door. He ran down the steps and out of the compound. After he started to breathe heavily he stopped and leaned against a wall of an alley on the shady side of the street.
He didn’t feel threatened by the old man, but by something else. The Cabal, the sorcerer called it. A cabal was a secret organization according to his studies. He’d have to ask Sulm. His tutor wouldn’t be fired, after all. He hoped he would never look on that red tower and not think of evil, smelly men.
After carefully peering around the corner looking for pursuers, Vish put his hand to his head to calm his mind. He took a few deep breaths and re-entered the street and quick-walked all the way home.
He spent the rest of the morning in his room. Vish, sitting at the head of his bed, started at a knock on his door, as he listlessly turned the pages of the book on the Warstones.
“May I come in?” his mother said as she went ahead and opened the door anyway. Vish didn’t mind. She did it all the time. He had no privacy, even though he wished he did. “I have received a copy of the message from the Sorcerer’s Tower that you are not ready to begin instruction. Did something go wrong?”
She sat at the foot of his bed. Vish pulled his feet in close and looked at his mother over his knees. He nodded, afraid to begin.
“You can tell me.” She smiled. Vish recognized that smile as one that he couldn’t resist.
“I saw through their deception and I told them that I didn’t like it. I held a ball that glowed with colors, so I must have some power. They wanted me to answer questions in a way that I didn’t want to, so I refused to let them proceed.”
“What kind of questions?”
Vish pursed his lips. “I can’t tell you.” He turned his head away, her gaze now made him uncomfortable. “They were about loyalty.”
“Loyalty, eh?” Vish now felt like he could chance a look. Her eyes had narrowed and her happy appearance had faded. She bit her lip as she thought. “About your father? Me? The sorcerers?”
Vish could only nod. “That’s all I’ll say. I ran away when I wouldn’t give them what they wanted.”
“What did they want, Vish?” she said, leaning forward, anticipating his answer. How could he resist his mother’s questions? He couldn’t.
“The sorcerers, they wanted me to pledge my loyalty to their cabal above all else or they wouldn’t teach me.” There! He said it. “I don’t want to be a sorcerer and fool people like they do. Nothing was real in the room they put me into. I don’t like them!” Vish had to breathe heavier to keep from bringing tears to his eyes, but they watered just the same.
Her mother slid up to his side and held Vish in her arms. “You don’t have to go back there. I think your tutor will be very happy with the outcome.” She put her hand through his hair and hugged him tighter.
Vish enjoyed the hug and the familiar smell of her perfume, but it did not remove the fear that still upset him.
~~~
CHAPTER TWO
~
AS A TEN-YEAR BIRTHDAY PRESENT, PRINCESS YALLA LET VISH ATTEND a council meeting, escorted by Sulm. Vish had never been in the council chamber before.
“Your father has fifteen councilors, no more. A circular table, and the chairs that surround it, are the only pieces of furniture in the Imperial Council Chamber. There is flat part where the Emperor sits and an opening directly across, where people can address the council and your father. The councilors are arrayed around the rest of the circle. Above the chambers is a gallery that goes all the way around for waiting supplicants, nobles and those given specific permission by your father and his councilors to attend.”
“Have you been to a council meeting before?”
Sulm shook his head, but grinned. “I’ve been in the chamber when empty, but this is my first session, too. I’m probably more excited than you are.”
As Vish walked with Sulm up the steps and into the coolness of the Emperor’s Palace, he wanted to see his father more than anything else. It had been months since he had been as close to his father as he would be, looking down from the gallery. They were searched for weapons of any kind.
“I left my knife at home,” Sulm said. “They would confiscate it and I’d have to petition them to return it to me.” He shrugged. “It’s happened before. The Emperor allows no weapons in his presence. It’s a good rule.”
Vish saw a handcart that already contained various items that the guards would recognize as weapons as they left the searching area.
Sulm presented a card with an imperial seal to a guard who pointed down the hall to the gallery entrance. They trudged on stone steps up a narrow, chilly staircase lit by magical balls of cold fire and emerged into the bright light of the chamber. Vish looked up at the glass dome that covered the chamber. Bright white light came from above through a circle in the center and then colored glass formed pictures of soldiers and sorcerers in battle followed by farms, orchards, rivers, deserts, and cities until soldiers and sorcerers fought again in battle. The scenes astounded him.
“What does it all mean?” Vish said. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the dome.
“It means that the Council presides over all of Dakkor in times of peace and in times of war. At one time, Dakkor ruled all of Zarron, from Cuminee to the northern tip of Serytar. Some would like a return to those days. Your father, seemingly, does not. Another good thing.”
Vish tore his eyes from the dome and looked down at the council table. A large, empty chair made of gold stood at the head of the table. A few of the councilors sat shuffling through papers or stood talking to their helpers. Papers were being examined and exchanged.
More councilors arrived and took their places. Vish looked at the gallery filling up with all kinds of people, but most of them were well-dressed nobles.
“You have brothers in attendance today,” Sulm said.
“I can’t see any.”
His tutor laughed. “How many of your 26 brothers have you ever met?”
“My two full brothers. Neither is here since they are still with their nursemaids and two who are from houses close to ours.”
“I see one of them.” Sulm pointed across the gallery. “The one in blue and white.”
Vish noted a boy much older than he, maybe fifteen? Sixteen? He wore a loose silk tunic with white stripes and white pantaloons. Vish could see the flash of jewelry. He squinted and noticed the gold rings on his hands as he talked and laughed together with a girl about the same age.
“Is that a sister?” Vish asked.
Sulm laughed. “I doubt it. She is probably a concubine. The Emperor forbids his sons to wed until they are twenty.”
The thought of marrying a girl gave Vish shivers. But twenty seemed a long way off since he had only reached halfway there. “What’s a concubine?”
“A female companion. She is more than an acquaintance, but not a wife, definitely not a wife.”
Vish thought back on his readings. “A prostitute? A woman who sells her body?”
“Where did you learn that?” Sulm asked. He looked indignant.
It didn’t matter to Vish. “In one of the books in my room. It’s a story of a great warrior and his travels to Serytar looking for a chest of gems. He meets a prostitute along the way and uses her for information. I didn’t understand all of it, but she accompanied the men and made them laugh.”
“And that’s nothing that I taught you, remember that!” Sulm said. “But as to your question, not a prostitute, but something more honorable.”
Vish had lost interest in the conversation and looked down onto the council floor. Most of the councilors’ seats were occupied and their helpers began to leave. He saw them emerging onto the gallery and he noticed one group that sat together across from their master so they could look at each other.
“Do they signal each other?”
Sulm had been looking elsewhere and became distracted himself. “Who?”
“The councilor’s helpers. They are sitting so they can see each other.”
“I suppose they might. Why not?” Sulm shrugged. “They are called ‘aides’ and that is an excellent observation, young Prince. During the session, see if they do.”
People began to rise. Sulm pulled Vish to his feet.
A man walked into the center of the table and raised his hands. He wore a gold and white uniform. “All rise and all hail to Shalil, Emperor of Dakkor and Protector of Zarron!”
Vish heard everyone else say, “All hail to Shalil, Emperor of Dakkor and Protector of Zarron,” as his father walked slowly from a door that Vish didn’t notice set within the round wall below.
He looked a little older than Vish remembered, but that was his father. He dressed in gold and white silk robes and wore a turban with a gold band at the bottom and a spike of jewels that thrust from the top. He strutted to his golden chair and sat slowly down, adjusting his robes. A shaven-headed man followed him with a folding stool and a box.
“What is the box for?” he whispered to Sulm.
