With that, Chancellor Donovan declared the meeting over and gave another whack of his gavel. With the gathering finished, magicians and officials alike left the room, leaving General Ruardin alone with his aides.
CHAPTER THREE
Overland
Samuel and Goodfellow awoke and ate early while the majority of the palace was still sleeping. It was mostly the domestic staff who were awake and busied at such an hour, preparing for the coming day in their neat uniforms. Armed checkpoints were still in place and the soldiers saw to their duties with solid Turian precision, showing no sign of sleepiness or lack of attention.
After breakfast, the pair readied their travelling packs and went out into the palace grounds to meet Grand Master Anthem as they had agreed. There was a great sense of urgency to their new plan and Samuel was only glad that they had been afforded the luxury of being allowed to sleep before leaving. He was sure that if General Ruardin had been allowed his way, they would have been set upon their horses and sent off to Ghant in the middle of the night,
Anthem was waiting there, with a set of stable hands nearby with horses at the ready. The old man had visited their room late in the night and given them a brief outline of the situation. It had been decided that Goodfellow should also go along, and the spectacled young magician was happy to oblige. It seemed a note had been found during the night, exactly as Celios had predicted, so it seemed the old seer’s visions were, indeed, proving true. Still, it did not put Samuel any more at ease. He only hoped he lived up to the Desert Queen’s expectations.
‘Is everything set to go?’ Samuel asked.
‘There have been a few changes since we last spoke,’ the old man revealed. Almost as if on cue, Grand Master Tudor and Eric Pot appeared through the nearby hedge gate and began approaching, also carrying their light travel packs. ‘I know you and Eric have not been seeing eye to eye recently, but it’s time to put all that behind you. He is one of the most powerful magicians we have, and we are investing all our resources into this mission. The fate of the Empire depends on it—perhaps even more.’
Samuel took a deep breath. ‘Very well. I understand,’ he replied despondently.
‘Also, I will not be accompanying you. Grand Master Tudor will lead the party.’
‘Why is that?’ Goodfellow asked with concern.
‘Grand Master Gallivan and I will be heading north. We aim to pierce the Paatin force and make for Garteny. There we will endeavour to meet with King Otgart and forge an alliance against this new threat. Grand Master Tudor has some experience in the desert. Admittedly, it was some time ago, but he has the rudimentary knowledge of such lands that will be required.’
‘Do you think King Otgart will be responsive?’ Goodfellow asked.
‘In these days, Master Goodfellow, who knows? I just hope he still has some sense left in his head. We can only try. Together we have more chance of repelling the Paatin but, if the desert people have decided not to further harass his lands, then I see little benefit in him joining us. Better for him to wait until the Empire’s demise. The Paatin will be doing his work for him. My task will be to convince him that such a situation would not be to his favour; although I still haven’t worked out quite how I will manage that, but Gallivan and I will think of something along the way. We always do.’
Just then, Grand Master Tudor and Eric arrived at their sides. Eric walked straight past them and to the horses, chose one, and began strapping his pack to it.
‘Everyone ready?’ Tudor asked and then turned to Anthem. ‘Have you given them all the bad news?’
‘Not quite,’ Anthem responded.
‘There’s more?’ Samuel asked.
‘Just a little,’ Anthem admitted. ‘Master Celios had another minor revelation during the night. Although at first he was sure the arrival of the Koians was some blight upon us and spent all night screaming about our doom, he now believes their arrival has some deeper meaning.’
‘No,’ Samuel uttered with disbelief, guessing what his old teacher was about to suggest.
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Anthem returned. ‘The Koian party will be accompanying you as far as Ghant. He feels they will be required there or at some point along the way. What for exactly, he cannot say.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ the ever-practical Goodfellow asked. ‘We know nothing about them.’
‘No, it’s not at all wise,’ Anthem admitted, ‘but Master Celios spat the statement out in front of everyone, so there’s no retracting it now. He is the infallible Seer of Cintar and the old Emperor’s most trusted of magical advisers. If General Ruardin alone had heard him, that would have sealed the matter, but he leapt up in the middle of our meeting and announced it for all to hear. I’m afraid that is how it is going to be.’
‘And what do the Koians think about this?’ Samuel asked, full of ire.
‘They did not need much persuading. I spoke to Ambassador Canyon at length last night and he revealed many interesting things about his people. He, himself, is a man of many layers. They have recovered their strength rather quickly and seem eager to repay us for our hospitality. They are a pride-driven people and will go to great lengths to assist us in any way they can. And, as their ambassador says, with Cintar under threat they are in danger wherever they are. As long as we respect their traditions, they will keep to their side of the bargain and help us when asked. I have briefed Grand Master Tudor on the bare necessities of what is required.’
At this, the other frail magician nodded with consideration.
‘But, Grand Master,’ Goodfellow began. ‘They will slow us down immensely. I thought we were on a mission of utmost speed and importance?’
‘We’ve been through all that already with Master Celios,’ Grand Master Tudor stepped in to explain. He looked a little under the weather and was perhaps not too keen on some of the finer details of the mission himself. ‘He is adamant that this is the way things should be and that fate will play its hand accordingly. What can we do, Samuel? We have little choice but to agree.’
‘If worse comes to worst, perhaps we can find a way of losing them along the highway?’
‘Not likely,’ Tudor responded. ‘Celios will kick up a fuss.’
‘One moment,’ Samuel said, feeling another imminent disappointment about to manifest itself. ‘Why are there six horses here? Who else is coming?’
‘That is the part I was about to explain,’ Anthem said. ‘So you can be guided appropriately, Master Celios and Sir Ferse will also be accompanying you.’ To which Samuel could only groan and Goodfellow started rubbing at his eyes nervously. ‘I know he has his quirks, and he has not been improving with age, but Sir Ferse will be there to take care of him. The two of them have been close since the Emperor’s death and Sir Ferse knows how to settle Master Celios when he gets agitated.’
‘This keeps getting worse and worse.’
‘I’m sure you will barely know they are there,’ Anthem added with a smirk. ‘I wish I were going with you!’ he added sarcastically.
At that moment, Master Celios came hobbling out into view, with Sir Ferse in tow carrying their bags. The party waited in silence for the two of them to arrive.
‘What a brisk morning!’ the old Master Celios announced. ‘And a lovely day for a trip! I feel twenty years younger!’
Samuel could only shake his head as he set about choosing his mount from the group.
‘It is time for me to go and prepare with Grand Master Gallivan,’ Anthem announced. ‘We will be travelling light and fast. We all have a great distance to travel, so I trust your journey will be successful and I hope to meet you back here upon your return. Once all these distractions are out of the way, perhaps we can start sorting out this infernal Empire once and for all.’
They bade him farewell and the old magician stalked back towards the palace, leaving them to finish their preparations and mount up.
‘Which way are we going?’ Master Celios said, turning his horse in circles beneath him.
‘To the East Gate,’ Sir Ferse replied, leaning over in his saddle and grasping the old master’s reins and setting the animal straight. The pair led the way across the grass towards the great gates of the palace grounds.
The two Erics set their horses to a trot and started out after them.
‘Well? Coming?’ Grand Master Tudor asked, slapping his boots into the sides of his mount and clicking his tongue to start it away. He was quite frail-looking and somewhat resembled a scarecrow strapped atop his horse.
Samuel could only shake his head on sight of the group.
‘Well?’ he said, patting the neck of the brown animal beneath him. ‘What shall we call you then?’ Of course, the animal did not reply. ‘I’ve already had one Jess. How about Brown Eric? But you’re a girl and we already have two Erics, so it makes no sense. Then again, neither does any of this, so it’s quite befitting. Let’s go, Brown Eric.’ And with that, he shook the reins with a sharp snap and set Brown Eric off after the others, shaking his head with concern at the whole affair.
The party began out of Cintar under a drab sky, leaving behind the noisy streets and bustling markets of the greatest city in the known world. The hundred horses of Captain Orrell’s guard went ahead with the said captain in the lead, with Master Celios and Grand Master Tudor on either side. The enigmatic Sir Ferse, as always, was shadowing Celios, riding immediately behind the disturbed magician.
Samuel and the Erics were left to mingle amongst the wagons at the rear of the column. The male Koians seemed comfortable on horseback, while the ladies rode upon a light-hooded carriage, with their costumed crone peeking out from beneath the retractable cover. The other wagons were far less luxurious and only served to carry their supplies for the journey, as well as items required by the fortress. Samuel had been alarmed to learn that one whole wagon was utilised only for clothes and paraphernalia belonging to the Koian god-woman. It seemed it was impossible for her to exist without her many changes of appearance. There was some extravagant and complicated costume routine that she followed, and a daily set of rituals that often had them halting while she stepped down and scratched at the dirt, or which had her throwing a handful of feathers into the air while she screeched aloud. All this was supposed to allow the universe to continue existing, but it mostly served to annoy Samuel. He could scarcely believe Captain Orrell was entertaining such nonsense, but the man waited patiently as he had been instructed to do.
Eric kept his distance and rode beside the Koian men, chatting to them, and that suited Samuel fine for the moment. Despite Anthem’s suggestion to let ‘bygones be bygones’, he was not ready to forgive his friend quite yet.
‘They are nothing but trouble,’ Samuel said, eyeing the foreigners bleakly.
Goodfellow looked back at the bouncing vehicle with concern. ‘I agree. It seems a strange arrangement.’
‘Master Celios seems confident. We can only hope his visions are well founded and don’t waste all our time.’
‘Master Celios is beginning to worry me,’ Goodfellow admitted. ‘His behaviour is becoming more and more erratic. I keep thinking back to Master Sebastian, the magician who went mad and lost his magic.’
‘Master Celios’ magic is not waning yet and, besides, Sebastian had been working with black magic for some time. The summoning of the Ti’luk creature merely pushed him over the edge.’
Goodfellow took another glance up towards the balding seer. ‘But can we trust a man on the edge of madness?’
Samuel was not sure himself, but answered more to reassure his friend. ‘Madness is the spark of greatness, so they say. I suppose we shall see if that is the case with Master Celios or not. For the moment, we are in his hands. Grand Master Anthem trusts his visions, so that is enough for me.’
The road was curving and Samuel could see Captain Orrell far ahead leading their column, with the two black-cloaked magicians beside him. Sir Ferse was riding upright in his saddle, with a stiff posture that seemed almost regal. His aura spoke of nothing unusual—he was just a man—but something about him was eerily familiar to Samuel.
They followed the busy highway through the fields and pastures that surrounded Cintar, away from the impregnable city walls and towards the coastal hills. Samuel could not help but pause a moment once they reached the crest of the hill and take one last look at the city. He remembered well coming down this same road many years ago when Tulan Goodwin had first brought him to try his luck as a magician. He wondered if he would ever see his friend again, for Tulan had been banished to his native Garteny for his role in the assassination of the Emperor. The world was certainly much more complicated than Samuel had first imagined.
Taking one last glance at the vista, Samuel took a great breath. The Bardlebrook river, stretching down from the hills; the satellite town of Northbank, sitting just on the river’s edge; the great walled city of Cintar itself, covering the land like a testament to the industriousness of man; the enormous, curving sea beyond them all, which made him feel tiny every time he gazed at it—these things seemed part of him now and he could not help feeling that this time, in leaving them, he was leaving some part of himself behind.
‘No need to be nostalgic,’ Goodfellow said, still waiting just nearby. ‘We’ll be home soon enough. I doubt little will change while we’re away.’
Samuel pulled the reins sideways and his mount brought him around to face his friend. ‘The city may not change, but we might.’
The sandy-haired magician laughed good-heartedly. ‘Now you’re just being sentimental. What kind of magician are you? Come on. The others are getting away from us. We’ve a long way to go.’
Samuel spent most of his time during the journey chatting with Goodfellow and the good-natured Captain Orrell, along with his reliable second-in-command, Lieutenant Valiant. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that the pair was leading their adventure, and that Orrell was now held in such high regard within the Royal Guard. Days were spent moving at a quick pace and the light wagons did a good job of keeping up although, by nightfall, they had generally fallen a good way behind and only caught up while everyone else was already into their dinners.
In the heart of Turia, there were plenty of major towns and cities where they could lodge, such as Grendin and Callaisia, and the vast, lake-hugging settlement of Seven Oaks. Captain Orrell and his men usually spent the nights in the local barracks, and they were happy enough with that, while the magicians and their Koian guests found their way to the local Order inns and slept there in relative luxury.
Old Tudor sent Samuel to check on the Koians’ needs each night, and he did so with a minimum of interest. They would only request water or towels or fresh bedding and it seemed pointless to have Samuel running about like a common servant. They tried to goad him into conversing with them, but stopped their attempts after he declined quite tersely. Soon after, Tudor gave up sending him.
At first light, they would all meet up again on the outskirts of the town and head off again. Orrell’s men took care of their horses and they were given different mounts each day, so Samuel had no time to bond with Brown Eric and did not bother to name any of the horses after that. There seemed little point.
They managed to cover a decent amount of ground each day, but it was eternally frustrating getting Master Celios and Sir Ferse to be ready on time. More than once the two of them could be heard arguing at the top of their voices. Even Grand Master Tudor had to give Celios stern words after he had caused them to make Captain Orrell late for the third day in a row, but the words seemed ineffectual on the distracted old Master. Several times, they questioned Celios if they should not be moving along faster, but he would only say that they were travelling according to plan and there was nothing to worry about. Still, Samuel could not help but feel they would do much better to leave the Koians and the supplies behind and ride for Ghant with all haste. Every day they dragged their feet was another day the Empress was slipping further away from them.
Eric spent
the days riding alongside the Koians and it only irked Samuel even further that his friend seemed to be getting along with them so well, chatting and laughing all the way. It seemed that the three younger Koian men—at least a decade or two older than Samuel—came from the same small region of Koia and they spoke together in their own incomprehensible tongue. Only the one called Horse spoke Old Tongue and he acted as translator between Canyon and the other two. It had surprised Samuel when he learned that the Koians were culturally diverse, but then he supposed every continent would be similar in some respects. Even Turia still had pockets of differentiation, despite the Empire’s best efforts to make the people homogeneous in every way.
‘Don’t worry, he won’t give away any of our secrets,’ Grand Master Tudor said, noticing Samuel’s concerned looks. ‘I’ve already spoken to him about what he says and what he does. He is a grown man and he knows better than to discuss Order secrets with common folk.’
‘Can we trust them, Grand Master? They seem so strange to me. We know nothing about them or where they really come from. Everything they told us could be a lie.’
‘Samuel, I would have thought that all your experiences as an Outlander in Turia would have taught you better. Did you learn nothing from all your years in Cintar? It’s our nature to be wary of all things that challenge the expected but, as magicians, that is our main function. No, I don’t think there is anything amiss about them—at least, not yet. Yes, they do look strange and they have strange ways, but we cannot let that cloud our judgement. I’m only disappointed that you have decided to keep yourself aloof from them. They are people, the same as we are, and Master Celios has never been wrong. I will not start doubting him now. We must trust him, and trust the faith the Council have invested in him. These people, thrown upon our shores, will have some role to play in the coming days and we can only thank fate that we have the foresight of Master Celios to prepare us for such.’
She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 13
