by Garon Whited
True, it’ll wax and wane along with the sunlight, but that just means we’ll have day and night like regular people. Moonlight will still provide a sort of night-light underground… maybe I can tap into the waste heat coming out of the forge chimney to enhance the nightlight, too…
It’ll be a big project. I’ll need to bring back the whole wizards’ guild, I think, to get this done in any reasonable amount of time. But the individual spells aren’t complex, aren’t even energy-intensive. We can do this!
Bronze and I headed down the mountain. I asked her to take the zig-zag way down, rather than take the big spiral, to see if it was faster. Sure, we can run at full speed if we take the gentle curve of the spiral street down to the gate; our speed is limited by cornering repeatedly if we head “straight” for a gate. But the long way around is a lot longer…
I think she goes the long way around because she likes to run. If I want to get in or out in a hurry, I may have to include one long, straight street from the base of the central rise to a gate. We can take a short spiral down from the inner courtyard, corner once, and hit a straightaway all through town. I can call it the Kingsway and make sure everyone knows the clanging sound has the right-of-way. She’ll like that.
I took the opportunity to check on the outer wall progress. The northeast gate was still the same; nothing was going to change there until we had other gates already created and working. The other three were still coming along; the seams in the wall were all the way through, but the outer pits were still forming. Maybe another two days and it should be ready for us to install winches and locking bolts.
More stuff I’ll have to remember to get. You never know how much stuff you need until you move into your own place…
While I was meditating on this fact of life, Bronze carried me southward along the canal road. I was jarred out of my preoccupation by the sight of an approaching knight.
He was a big man and wore some of the shiniest armor I’ve seen. Even his beer-wagon horse had shiny armor. He had a body shield on his left arm, decorated with a coat of arms; I couldn’t make it out because of the angle. Behind him, he had a squire with a mule-drawn cart and another horse following the cart on a lead-line They were traveling at a walking pace. Whoever he was, he was traveling in style.
I also thought he was traveling in a semi-portable oven. The sun was out, the morning warm, and he was probably sweating like a cheating husband in divorce court. I was in regular clothes, but dressed warmly because Bronze creates a major headwind. I planned to lose a layer or two of outerwear once I got into town.
His visor was open, so I could see he was smiling as he raised a gleaming hand to hail me. We thundered and clanged to a stop.
“Well-met, traveler!” he greeted me. “Are you about the King’s business?”
“Well-met,” I replied. “Yes, I am.”
“I thought so, for you ride his infernal steed. Does the King reside in yonder mountain?”
“Yes, he does. May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?” I inquired, politely.
“I am the Hero, Sir Sedrick, third son of the Prince of Riverpool!” he announced, proudly.
Riverpool… I remembered a bit about it from talks with Raeth and Bouger. It was near the middle of Rethven, where the Dormer river split into the Dormer and the Mirenn rivers. It had a large river harbor, hence the name. It was a trading town, really, and quite prosperous, way back when. It didn’t hold a lot of land; it didn’t need to. It was one of the crossroads for the kingdom. I wondered if it was still as prosperous after the Balkanization of the kingdom.
“It is my honor and privilege to make your acquaintance, noble knight,” I told him. I didn’t mention that he was a long way from home. Doubtless he knew.
“Indeed. Now, hurry back and tell your master that I have come to challenge his evil.”
I blinked at him for a moment. How do you respond to something like that?
“I’m sorry,” I told him, “but I can’t really do that—I’m on an errand. But!” I hurried, holding up a hand to cut him off, “I can give you a token that will assure you entry into the city, so you may meet him directly, rather than deal only with his people.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then agreed. I dug into my pouch and pulled out a silver coin. We don’t have stamping mills in Karvalen—not yet, not yet!—so we only have coin blanks. We stepped closer, to sit side-by-side; his horse stood perfectly still while Bronze stepped up beside it. I handed him one of my coins. As he reached to take it I noted that, yes, the device on his shield might belong to a younger son of Riverpool.
“This?” he asked, dubiously, turning the coin in his fingers.
“I promise you, on my honor, that if you present this at the gate, they will listen to you when you explain where you got it. They will then allow you into the city, even accord you all the honors of a guest.”
He frowned, but he kept the coin.
“Before you go,” I said, “if I may make so bold as to ask a question?”
“You have done me a service, so I will permit it.”
“How did you know I was not the King?” I asked.
“You are tiny,” he replied. “That giant beast of dark magic could be no other than his legendary steed, yet you are dwarfed by it.”
“Ah. Of course. They do say size matters.”
“Indeed. Fare you well,” he bade me. I returned his farewell and watched as he and his goods walked past me and away. When they were a good fifty yards or so down the road, I looked at Bronze. She turned her head to regard me with one eye.
“What do you think, infernal beast of dark magic? Should I be seven or eight feet tall?” I asked. She flicked an ear: You seem a good size to me.
“Typical: A girl trying to reassure my masculine ego.” She snorted fire and her version of laughter.
I took a moment to get out my small steel mirror and look in on Tort. She felt the presence of the scrying spell and drew out a clear crystal to return it.
“Yes, my angel?”
I explained about Sir Sedrick. She frowned.
“Shall I have him killed?” she asked.
“No, absolutely not! Please accord him all the honors of a visiting knight. Show him around, feed him well, put him up for the night, whatever it takes. Be nice to him.”
“But… my angel, consider. From what you describe, I do not doubt that when word finally reached him, somewhere in Rethven, of the risen King of Karvalen he set out immediately. Heroes do go a-questing, and you are the object of his. Other heroes will seek the same; do you want to set this as a precedent? He is here to kill you!”
“Well, he can’t do it there while I’m in Mochara, now can he? But if he’s comfortable there, he’ll stay until I get back, rather than riding all over trying to catch up with me. Besides, I want to ask him why he wants me dead.”
“My angel, he sounds like a Hero. Does he need a better reason?”
“Probably not. I still want to ask him why he thinks I should be destroyed. If it’s a good reason, I’ll have to take steps to guard against other Heroes.”
“Very well; I shall send word.”
“Thank you. How’s T’yl doing?”
“I am not sure. There has been no change.”
“I see. Well, we’ll just have to hope. If there’s still no change when I get back, I’ll look inside him and see if I can spot any mistakes.”
“As you will.”
“See you later.”
“Farewell.”
I cut the connection and we set out for Mochara again.
My first stop was to see Thomen. We halted in front of the guildhall and I went in. The receptionists were still there.
“Good morning, sir,” one of them said.
“Good morning. Is Thomen available?”
“May we ask the nature of your business with the guildmaster?” the other asked. I had a terrible feeling of déjà vu.
“I’m the King of Karvalen, and I would like to
hire the guild.”
“Hire…?”
“The guild. As a whole. Everybody in it.”
They looked at each other.
“You’re the King?” the first one asked. I smoothed my tabard deliberately to display the symbol.
“Yes, I am; I just shrank in the wash. Hot baths, you know. Now please go let Thomen know I’m here.”
The first girl made a very low curtsey and hurried through the left door. The other offered refreshments, boasting that they had ice if I cared for a cold drink. I declined politely.
The first girl returned quickly and showed me up to the second floor. Thomen’s office, or workroom, was on the corner and overlooked two streets through windows made of real, clear glass. The girl vanished back downstairs.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he offered, and rose from his seat to bow.
“Good morning,” I returned, and gestured him back to his seat. He offered me one and we settled down together.
“I am told,” he continued, sitting rigidly in his chair, “that you wish to hire the whole guild?”
“Right to business? Okay. Yes, I have a large project I want to finish, and doing it alone will take a long time. If I get help, however, we can knock this out in, at worst, a matter of weeks.”
“Does this have anything to do with the strange growth of stone headed westward?”
“Nope. Well, only in the vaguest possible way,” I corrected. “That road is an extension of the mountain’s stone, but my project is putting light spells inside the mountain’s undercity. So, only vaguely related.”
Thomen nodded, slowly. He still seemed tense.
“I see what you mean, yes. Well. We are, of course, happy to help in any way the King commands. But you said ‘hire’? Am I to understand that you… I mean, that Your Majesty intends to pay us?”
“You don’t want me to?” I asked, surprised.
“Oh, no!” he replied, quickly. “No, no, no. That’s not it at all! We’ll gladly accept payment for our services!”
“Then what’s the trouble?” I asked, perplexed.
“Your Majesty does not intend to simply order it done?”
“I think we have ourselves a failure to communicate,” I told him. “Here.” I handed him a large, heavy-duty pouch. He nearly dropped it; it was full of gold coin blanks. “I’m going to work on a project to illuminate the undercity with a new spell. I will teach it to anyone who wants to learn it. Anyone who does, and can successfully cast it, can have some of what I just handed to the wizards’ guild—you determine what’s a fair division. I’ll need the spell cast several times, in different places, which is why I need the help to finish it; I don’t want to spend the next few years on it, you see.
“Any questions?”
He weighed the pouch. He had to hold it in both hands. Well, gold is dense.
“What if a wizard only wished to learn the spell, not cast it?” he asked.
“Then they can. It won’t bother me. But they only get paid if they actually help—I think they should get paid on the basis of how many times they cast the spell for me, but that’s up to you, as I said. You’re the Master of the Guild.” I paused and looked thoughtful.
“Do you have a Royal Charter for your Guild?” I asked.
“How?” he asked. He had a good point.
“Then we need to get one. See about having it drawn up, will you? I’ll sign it and put my seal on it.”
He eyed me shrewdly, almost suspiciously.
“Is that conditional on the Guild’s aid?”
“What? No! You’re a guild. You need a charter. So we’ll sort that out.” I pointed at the sack of gold. “That’s me hiring the Guild to help me on a project. I can’t hire a Guild if there isn’t one.” I grinned at him. “I can’t issue it a Royal Order, either, if it doesn’t exist. So take what you can get, that’s my advice.”
He shook his head in wonder.
“I do not understand you.”
“You’re not alone in that. But do you understand the deal I’m offering, to hire help for my illumination project?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, in your opinion, do you think anyone will help?”
“My personal opinion?” he asked.
“Of course. I want to hear what you think. You’re the man who knows these things. Your opinion matters to me.”
“I… think that quite a number of guild members will attempt to aid you. A few who are not guild members may attempt to do so, as well.”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. If they can learn my light-channeling spell, do you think they should be allowed to help? Of course, I’ll want the guild to certify that they’ve mastered it, and to monitor their work.” I smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry to load all this responsibility on you, but you’ll have to work out how much extra to pay a wizard who has that duty, too.”
“I…” he paused, swallowed. He set the heavy pouch down on a worktable with a clinking thud. He worked his hands a bit to loosen them up.
“Since we do not have a Royal Charter,” he began, “I suppose, technically, that we can allow… uh, probationary members to assist us, even if they are not actual apprentices in the Guild. Just for the piecework. I’ll have to write in some provision for that sort of thing, I think.”
“You’re the Master Wizard of the Kingdom of Karvalen,” I told him, and his eyes widened. “I trust you to work it out.”
“Is that your official word on the matter?” he asked, staring at me.
“Sure. Got a crystal or something around here you can look through, but isn’t magical?” He agreed that he did and dug around for a moment in a collection of boxes and drawers. He produced what would probably become a scrying amulet: a pendant with a flat, clear piece of quartz that would have made a good monocle. I accepted it, laid it on a worktable, and scribbled around it for a few minutes.
“Okay, stand over here,” I directed. I propped up the crystal so I could see him through it as through a camera. “You know how knights are given a sword when they’re knighted?” I asked, walking back over to him.
“I do.”
“Well, I’m thinking that, purely for symbolic purposes, I should give you your staff. I know it’s really yours, but, for the ceremony of being put on the King’s Council and suchlike, would that work?”
“Yes, although wizards will be reluctant to give up—wait, the King’s what?”
“Council. I need people to advise me, you know. Shouldn’t the Master Wizard be on it?”
“Uh.”
“Look, we can settle all that later. For now, just kneel and accept your own staff back from me, okay? You’ll see.”
Dazed, he handed me his staff and knelt. I made sure we were aligned properly for the shot, activated the spell in the crystal, then laid his own staff back in his outstretched hands. A little more work with the crystal, then, and it replayed the sequence and patterns of light that passed through it in those few seconds. A crystal video record!
“There you go,” I said, and handed it to him. He looked through it and watched it loop a couple of times.
“I find I don’t know quite what to say,” he admitted. “Thank you?”
“You don’t need to thank me, but I admit that I find that more polite. You’re quite welcome. Oh, and do you think you can establish a guildhall in Karvalen? The population is growing rapidly, and I may need wizards on hand, myself.”
“I shall definitely look into it while I’m there, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. Now, if I can leave all this in your hands, I need to run. People to see, things to do, places to go—a king’s work is never done.”
“I have never heard that kings worked,” he offered. “They have people for that.”
“Maybe so, but I started out as a hero, not a king,” I told him. He nodded.
“I will do everything I can,” he assured me. I thanked him again and left.
Finding Flim was easy enough; I headed to Harbor Gate—
the one in the southern wall of Mochara—and followed the wall to the west. The giant crossbow was still propped up where I’d last seen it, but someone had removed the broken chain.
Bronze wandered around the thing, grazing for broken links and splintered wood. I examined it, considering the problems of scaling up a crossbow to something the size of a siege engine. They were considerable, which is why most ballistae used tension in twisted rope for the power storage. I also noticed that the thing didn’t have any magic in it; no spells to hold things together or enhance it in any way. Someone was trying to build a gadget—a big gadget—the hard way.
I can respect that.
While I looked, a boy, about seven years old, approached me and stood there, watching me.
“Can I help you?” I asked, eventually.
“Are you the King?”
“Yes.”
“My Dad’s name is Flim.”
“That’s good. Is he around here, somewhere?” I asked. The boy nodded.
“He’s at home. I’m Reth.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Reth. My name is Halar.”
“I’ve been told to call you ‘Your Majesty’.”
“Oh? Who told you that?”
“Mom.”
“Ah. Then it must be the right thing to do,” I observed. He nodded again.
There was a silence while we looked at each other. He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around. I could feel Bronze laughing at me.
“Um, does your mother live around here?” I asked. He nodded.
“She lives with my Dad.”
“That’s very good. Could we go there?”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed. We continued to look at each other.
Bronze coughed some smoke along with her silent laughter.
“Let’s go there now,” I told him. That worked; he led the way. Bronze went back to grazing. I went across the street with Reth. He went right in; I paused on the threshold, rather than barge in. Moments later, a lady hurried into view. She looked familiar; she had helped haul Flim over to the square where I’d set up shop for the evening. She recognized me, too.
Once we got past the frantic curtsey and the apologies for the state of her house, I finally got in to see Flim. He was doing much better; he was sitting in front of a sand table, sketching. He had a clay pitcher of water near at hand. He also had a hand sprinkler, for keeping the sand damp so he could draw in it. Half a meal lay nearby.
