Magician In Exile (Power of Poses Book 2)

by Guy Antibes

  “But you will be given full citizenship rights…irrevocable.”

  Trak didn’t believe it. Tembul could just as well continue, “irrevocable, until we decide otherwise.” He had been misled in Bitrium and he suspected the same here. However, Trak had to admit that he didn’t know what else he could do. Valanna had been a goal, but if she followed Dalistro back to Espozia, Trak wouldn’t be reuniting with her any time soon.

  Trak frantically searched for options as he looked from face to face, but couldn’t come up with any. He sighed; he couldn’t commit with so little information, but he nodded his head. He hadn’t any practical training in this sort of thing, although Misson and he had conversations about spying and intrigue at court. “What would I have to do? I’m not saying I’ll go or not, but I’ll think about it while I’m in the North.”

  The man, an older gentleman who looked familiar, began to speak from Trak’s right. He might have been one of the six councilors or ministers or whatever they were, standing behind the king.

  Tembul translated. “Come back from the Lazanti Pass alive and when you get back, our preparations will be complete.” He stood. “We must leave now.” Tembul bowed to the men and led a bewildered Trak out into the streets of Kizru.

  “Am I dreaming or were they asking me to go around the world to rescue some other people’s princess?” Trak said after they had walked a block or two.

  “They were serious, I can tell you that, but we have another meeting tonight.”

  Trak heard a series of bells announcing the time. He didn’t know how the Toryans split the time of the day up.

  “We are already a bit late,” Tembul said as he pulled on Trak’s wrist. “We’ll have to hurry.” He led Trak through some alleys and even broke into a run in a few places and then stopped in front of one of Kizru’s larger buildings.

  “We meet in here? Another clandestine meeting?”

  Tembul shook his head. “Not as secret, but still confidential. Speak only when spoken to. These people are not as tolerant as the last.”

  A man opened a door for them. “About time, Tembul. I hope your young man is in shape to talk after bouncing around our illustrious taverns,” the man said in accented Santasian. He looked at Trak and gave him a knowing smile, although Trak didn’t know what he would share with this individual.

  They climbed a few flights of stairs and were let into a functional sitting room. Two men talked quietly in the Toryan language beside a small fire. Their escort didn’t accompany them into the meeting.

  The room didn’t have the feel of a residence. Perhaps whatever ministry used the building used this for less-formal meetings. He didn’t see any personal items littered about. His previous host’s study boasted plenty of knickknacks and books. This was more like a lounge in the Espozian Magician’s Guild or something he’d see in Bitrium.

  The men seemed more sanguine about this meeting. By comparison the others were frantic, driven to get Trak’s agreement. Something didn’t match.

  “Ah, the Pestle boy. Come in, come in,” one of the men said in heavily-accented Santasian. It looked like Tembul wouldn’t be translating here. “Wait outside, Sir Tembul.” He waved his hand dismissively. Tembul turned towards Trak and gave him a look of warning as he left Trak alone with the pair.

  The looks of condescension dripped from the faces of the two men, both in their fifties. Trak took an instant dislike to both of them.

  “Pestle boy,” the other said. “You have a name, but it escapes me.” He waved his hand dismissively.

  “Trak Bluntwithe, sir,” Trak said as he looked over the men. Both seemed to be overdressed, even for those he had seen in the palace.

  “Yes, Bluntwithe. We have an offer for you.” The two men looked at each other conspiratorially and smiled at each other. “We would like to recommend to King Basiul that you train for the position of Court Magician.”

  Trak couldn’t decide if he had to furrow his brow or bark out a laugh at the offer—him a Court Magician? Toryans had plenty of magicians with more experience. Why would they offer him such a position?

  “Why? I’m an outsider. King Basiul told me that he wanted me to leave Toryan lands, yet you ask me to take what must be a high position.”

  “I said train, not act, young man. We have heard of your high potential and are interested in using your power to further our… Toryan interests. In exchange, you will have full Toryan citizenship and will live an easy life, which we will fund starting as soon as you agree. In ten years or so, you will rise to the position we have offered you.”

  Ten years? That seemed like an eternity to Trak. He’d be nearly twenty-eight by that time and what would he be doing with his power for all those years?

  One of the men rapped his fingers on the table while Trak thought the offer through. Actually it wasn’t much to think about. He couldn’t abandon his friends and didn’t want to accept something that he didn’t earn. Doing that would only put him in their power, and he would become the creature of these men and those behind them.

  “Present me with the offer after the Kandannans are pushed back from the passes. I will consider it then,” Trak said. He gave them both a curt bow and turned around to leave.

  “This is a one-time offer, Bluntwithe. Think of it, a life of leisure. Consider all the new spells you will get to learn. An easy life of luxury amidst those of your own blood. If you go to the north, you may find yourself without friends or sponsors once you come back to Kizru… if you come back.”

  Trak recognized a threat when he heard one. The words sent a shiver down his spine. Why did Tembul present him to these two snakes? For Trak was sure that was what they were.

  He turned around again to face them. “If I am of the worth you seem to ascribe to me, I’m sure this opportunity or others might arise when I return to Kizru…if I return.” He gave them another bow and ignored their muttering as he walked through the door.

  Tembul stood with a patient look on his face, his hands folded. “We can return now.” He put a finger to his lips and led him down the stairs and out of the building.

  “I’m a bit disappointed,” Trak said, once they were well away from the meeting place. “I didn’t think the Toryans had the same political disease as Pestle or Santasia.”

  “Or Warish, or Bennin or Kandanna,” Tembul said. “Where there is power, bad men cluster like carrion flies to a carcass. I have my own games to play, so I agreed to let them meet you.” Tembul’s face showed the repulsion that Trak felt and that somehow comforted him.

  “They want me on a shelf. They have no intention of making me a Court Magician, do they?”

  Tembul shook his head. “The ten-year waiting period. How preposterous! You are right. There is a faction that wants you as their trained dog. If you accepted their offer, you’d be obligated to them.”

  “Who are they?”

  Tembul looked around, seemingly to see if they were alone. “A group that wants Torya to remain as it is, no matter what happens to the world around us. They have more power than those who seek more integration in the world at large. The outside population of the Torya continues to grow and will continue to encroach on our lands. If we don’t become more active in the affairs of the world, Torya will be eventually swallowed up on terms we don’t control.”

  Trak let the words sink in for a bit before he spoke. “So the split with the Western Toryans is the tipping point. If you don’t ally with them, then Eastern Torya won’t be strong enough to withstand the continual squeeze of the Kandannans and the Santasians. Colcan doesn’t matter since they are just as insular as you are.”

  Tembul chuckled. “You have been paying attention to your learning masters, it seems. You are right. First, we have to throw back the Kandannans. That will show our western brothers that we still have power—”

  “Retrieving the princess will give you a large bargaining chip? I don’t know how valuable she is, but it must be considerable since you are counting on me,” Trak said. “So
what happens if I elect a life of ease? I have to admit that in certain circumstances that would be appealing.”

  Tembul kicked a piece of trash to side of a building. “Appealing, yes. But do you think Eastern Torya will remain the same for ten years?”

  The comment elicited a shrug from Trak. “I don’t know. My teachers never taught me that,” he said, and then broke into a grin. “Nothing remains the same forever, I do know that. My father has been fighting for change ever since I was born. The Warish have just about subverted most Pestle minds.” Trak shook his head. “I don’t think he’s been very successful.”

  Tembul nodded and put his arm around Trak’s shoulder. “I will help you fight. I hope you understand a little better why you don’t belong in Kizru, as it is today, but maybe there is a tomorrow where you will.”

  ~

  Trak woke up before the others in his group. He paced the length of the dormitory a number of times, going over and over the confusing events of the previous night. The Colcanans had problems with the Santasians, who had problems with the Kandannans and rebel magicians. Torya sat in the middle squeezed from all sides. Pestle had problems with Warish. He wondered whom the Warish had problems with. He didn’t know how he could know which alliance was good or bad.

  There were decisions to make, but he had to simplify what paths confronted him. He could easily discard the Court Magician offer. He wondered how similar Misson Dalistro’s tutelage might be to that offer. That brought a shrug to his shoulders. The trip to Bennin intrigued him. Rescuing a princess had the ring of an exciting novel. He had never sought adventure, but the prospect of going to an exotic land made him smile.

  “What are you grinning about?” Able said as he sat up in his bed rubbing his face.

  “I’ll let you know, but not right now. I’m just waiting for the food to come in.” He sat down at the table and examined his fingernails as the decision rolled around in his mind. If he did bring it up with his companions, who would counsel him to go, and who would want him to stay?

  Able and Neel would probably want to go with him. Honor might want him to stay. Ben? He didn’t know about him. He was an older man, and might think Trak could learn a lot while he waited. Trak didn’t think the Toryans were really serious about teaching him anything, so Ben would probably want him to go, too.

  Rasia stretched and padded over to the table in her bare feet. “Have a good time last night? Tembul kept you out late enough.”

  Trak nodded. “The ale in Kizru is little better than dishwater. Able,” he nodded to his foster father, “you could make a bundle either making ale or importing it from Santasia.”

  “As if the Toryans would permit it. So it’s no better on the outside than what they serve us?” Able said.

  Trak nodded. “You’d be out of business in less than a week if you had to sell this at The Blunted Sword. By the way, who is running the inn?”

  “Friend of Esmira’s,” Neel chimed in as he moved from bed to table, scratching his beard and his bottom. “She promised Able,” he lifted his chin in Able’s direction, “that it would be in decent shape when he returned.”

  “Ah… how can it be in decent shape without me to meet and greet the customers? How I miss it.”

  Neel slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Better in the hands of someone you trust than in the hands of the Pestlan guard.”

  “There’s truth to that,” Able said.

  The door opened and servers brought breakfast into their quarters, which brought Ben and Honor out of their beds and to the table. They started in silence until Tembul walked into their room.

  He immediately addressed Trak. “Made a decision?”

  “Decision?” a few of them said at about the same time.

  “Trak and I had two meetings last night.” Tembul looked at Trak. “Your decision affects all of them, I think, so tell all, if you really do trust them.”

  “With my life,” Trak said without hesitation, except he didn’t quite mean Rasia. “I met with a group who want me to rescue a princess of the Western Toryans. I didn’t know it, but the Toryans have split between the West and the East side of the mountains. She is in Bennin.”

  Neel whistled. “That’s quite a trip, Trak. The other meeting?”

  Trak nodded. “I have another offer to train for the future position of Court Magician. I’d be training for ten years.”

  Ben snorted. “Blather. Simply blather. They want you put away. I suspect that faction looks upon you not much differently than the Board of Deans in Bitrium. Sitting around showing them how powerful you are will only get you killed.”

  So much for Ben wanting him to stay.

  “You do what you think is right,” Honor said. “I don’t have any basis to trust the Toryans regardless of what you decide.” She looked in Tembul’s direction. “Am I right?” she said to him.

  “There is peril in any decision Trak makes, Lady. The fewer people around the boy, the better chance he has of protecting himself. Make of that what you will.”

  Tembul had made his position known last night, but now he confirmed it, and that just about clinched Trak’s decision to go to Bennin.

  “First of all, we have to seal the northern pass and maybe help with the southern pass. It’s not in Toryan interests or Santasian interests to allow the Kandannans easy access across Toryan lands. If I survive that, then I’ll be going to Bennin. Any of you are welcome to join me.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Nine

  ~

  Kulara kept the platform aloft as well as any of the Moziran magicians. Her forays consisted of scouting out enemy positions. Not only could she see farther, but she could move the platform faster over the terrain than any mounted soldier if she traveled alone, but while she was gone, Asem couldn’t help but be nervous. He didn’t like the feeling at all. That anxiety showed a weakness that Asem would rather no one know about.

  Asem flushed with relief every time he saw her return with more information, and this time he rode towards the command tent where Garono, Misson, and General Niamo conferred. It was clear that one or all of them didn’t quite trust Asem enough to bring him into their regular meetings.

  She let the platform drift towards the top of a cart, and then set it down. Asem helped her off of the platform.

  “See anything interesting?”

  Kulara nodded. “My love, sharpen your sword and your wits. There will be a battle tonight or tomorrow. I must talk to Garono.”

  Asem followed her into the command tent. Five men looked down on a map spread out on a large collapsible table. They all turned as she entered.

  “Three columns are heading this way. They could engage as soon as the day after tomorrow.”

  “Three, you say? Then they are coming from different directions?” the General said.

  Kulara moved to the map and took a few moments. Asem couldn’t help but smile. She lived to be important in a way that the Warishian battle leaders would never allow, and now she was performing in front of the Santasian leadership. Good for her, he thought.

  “A column is moving south from here, here, and here,” she said. The eastern column is the largest and is slightly behind the others. The force sizes decrease as you go from east to west. I’m not adept at estimating the size of the forces, and some of the eastern forces were coming through a stretch of woods. I didn’t see any colored robes among any of them.”

  Asem couldn’t help but say, “So they aren’t wearing robes. Magicians are too valuable not to use in war.”

  Misson looked over and gave Asem a smile. “I suppose that calls for us to do the same. Do you agree, General?”

  “He doesn’t quite agree,” Garono said. “General Niamo has limited use for magicians in war.” He looked at the General. “Adolphus, do you think that they will draw us out with the middle column and then come at us from the sides?”

  Niamo pursed his fleshy lips and rubbed a stubbled chin. “One would come at us head on. The other largest force would come
at our flank and the western column probably can move faster and arrive at the battlefield from the rear. See how the western force’s path is mostly level farmland? Did you see how many were mounted, Kulara?” He looked up with hooded eyes. “Magicians? Bah! We will crush them with our force of arms. Magicians are only good for tricks and diversions.” The General clenched his hand into a fist.

  “Oh, I see,” she said. “Yes, I think they did. Their supply carts were also behind them and not interspersed like the other two units.”

  “Very good, Niamo. That’s why you are the General. Why don’t I take a unit of mounted scouts and magicians and slow them up?” Misson said. “Sometimes tricks and diversions are useful.”

  The General nodded. “If you engage, try to destroy their wagons, if they are all together. We have more trained men than they do, so my best force will attack the eastern column here,” he pointed to a space on the map, “and attack from the shelter of the trees. Our main force will form up at our intended battlefield, lining up wider and shallower to give them the impression of more soldiers.”

  Garono stared at the map. “I hate to see so many Santasian lives at risk. Make sure that you give quarter to the fallen so they can be attended to by the healers.” He looked at Asem. “What do you want to do? You can fight or help us with logistics during the battle, if you don’t.”

  Asem glanced at Kulara. “I will go with Misson, if you give me a horse.”

  Kulara pursed her lips at his comment, but ended up folding her arms, a signal of displeasure. He’d hear about taking up a sword as soon as they were excused.

  “Kulara, rest as you can. We will need you to fly between the three battles.”

  She nodded and left, pulling Asem with her. He smiled as her eyes flashed. “Going to battle? You are no longer a young man. I have used the flyer with the railing built around the platform. Even as seasoned a warrior as you will have nothing to fear when flying.”

  “As youth disappears, wisdom and experience takes its place, my love. My experience tells me that a fall from a horse is shorter than a fall from a flyer.”