by Garon Whited
During our parade, I was followed by black-armored knights in two columns, one line of red sashes, the other line of grey sashes. A squad of them ranged ahead to keep the crowds back, away from me, but filtered through the occasional Loyal Subject. Not all of the knights were in the parade, of course. Some still had to be on duty in the palace, others were… elsewhere. I recognized a lot of grey sashes—that is, people who usually wear armor and grey sashes, only now wearing street clothes—in the crowds, pretending to not watch for unpleasantness.
I’ve felt like a target before, but this time I was a heavily-armored target.
I was also expected to do other public-relations-friendly things with the occasional Loyal Subject permitted through the screen of knights. These were all sorts of people who wanted to meet me, to touch me, to present themselves or their children to me—can you bless our upcoming marriage? Can you bless my baby? Will you cure my warts? Can we talk about a financial deal? I have an idea for a business and need backing. Can you narrow the canals? Can you widen the road? Can you put more ditches in the southwest? Can you wall off the Eastrange? Would you do this, do that, do the other thing?
Gnashing of teeth. That’s an appropriate phrase, even if it’s more of a clenching than a gnashing.
I tried to do the Benevolent Ruler thing, though. It didn’t seem in keeping with the whole separation of church and state I was shooting for, but, well, it was a holiday. And people were just so damn earnest about their requests! I metaphorically summoned up the spirit of Fred Rogers and plastered Friendly Smile #1 on my face.
As we toured through town, I spotted a face I recognized. He was waving at me, jumping up and down on the wagon of an annoyed-looking drover. Heydyl wanted my attention and I realized he might have some trouble getting to see me through the layers of bureaucracy and security, these days. So I pointed at him and beckoned him over. People all along that line gave me the startled, Who, me? expression before realizing it was someone else. The crowd either let him through or he slipped between people; the armored ring around me let him pass.
I dismounted to meet him and we walked together, slightly ahead of Bronze. Stopping the whole procession seemed uncalled-for, but I did want to talk with Heydyl.
“You look like a man with something on his mind,” I said. “What’s wrong, Heydyl?”
“My mother,” he replied. “We lived in the Light’s quarter, and, and, and in the fighting, she… she’s dead, Your Majesty. My mom died in the fighting.”
If Lotar had been standing anywhere near me, I’d have killed him on the spot. I sometimes have a tendency to overreact. I blame Johann, but I’m afraid he can’t take all the blame.
“I see,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“I still have the shop and our space above it.”
“Of course you do. Silly me. Do you have anyone to help you with all that?”
“No.” He looked up at me and asked, “Can you bring my mom back to me? That’s why I tried to see you, but nobody at the Palace would let me.”
“I’ll have words with someone about making it easier for you to find me,” I assured him. How many people tried to reach me every day? How many actually needed to see me, but couldn’t? Should they go through the Palace gauntlet or the Temple one? Or both? And how do we sort out who does need to see me and who doesn’t? If Heydyl could get dumped, the system needed some revision.
“As for your mother, no, I’m sorry to say. I can probably call her back for you to say your farewells, but that’s as far as I can go,” I told him. He nodded, dry-eyed.
“I thought so. I had to ask.”
“So you did. In the meantime,” I went on, “would you like a job? The pay isn’t great, but the benefits package is top-notch.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Not even a question of what the job was, I noticed. Yeah, Heydyl needed someone’s help. If you can’t ask your own father to give you a hand, who should you ask?
“I have a parade to finish,” I told him. “You stick with me and we’ll get you set up when we get back to the Palace.”
I bounced up into the saddle again, leaned far down, and swung Heydyl up behind me. He seemed either awestruck or dumbfounded—I’m not sure which. He held on as we went through the rest of the parade and made our rounds through the city.
The afternoon was more pleasant, at least. It was a holiday, so the parade finished at an arena on the south side of town. I kept Heydyl with me as we parked ourselves in the royal box. There was even a place for Bronze! Below us, there was a sand-covered floor big enough for a couple of football games and a cricket match. The events included single combats, horse races, acrobats, musicians and dancers, grand melees, chariot racing, wizardry demonstrations, and a whole host of other performances.
Bronze was amused by the races. I enjoyed the lack of death-matches. Which is not to say there were no fatalities; when your chariot wheel comes off, the chariot rolls sideways. This can result in being trampled by the team of horses behind you and squished by the chariot they’re towing. They don’t have much in the way of safety equipment, but they do have magic-using medics on hot standby.
I’m torn between implementing more regulations for safety and keeping my hands off. Should I put my foot down and insist they be more cautious? Or am I setting a bad precedent for governmental regulation? Should I keep my nose out of it and let them decide if they want to risk their lives? If they were slaves being forced to race, that’s one thing. But free men who enjoy the danger…? They have free will. They’re risking their own lives. It’s their choice, not mine.
It’s still hard to watch the crunch. At least, it is for me. The crowd loved it, the bloodthirsty maniacs.
Oh, well. At least I got to meet a lot of happy children and kiss a few babies. As political duties go, that’s not so bad. And, possibly best of all, nobody tried to kill me!
Sunday, March 7th
Heydyl is working as one of the runners-messengers-gofers in the Palace. I tasked Dantos and his staff to make sure Heydyl gets time with both sword and pen. Heydyl may or may not have the unquenchable determination to be a knight, but he’ll have the opportunity to learn a little bit about everything. He can make up his own mind about what interests him. Whatever he decides to be, be it a knight, or a wizard, or a dressmaker like his mother, he’ll have his shot at it. He’s as busy as a med student on an ambulance rotation.
Which, by design, keeps him too distracted with the world—and too tired at night—to think about the loss of his mother. We talked about her after we arrived at the Palace and he decided he needed to say goodbye. I called her back with some difficulty. The Grey Lady wasn’t against the idea, and Lynae’s death was recent enough, so Lynae actually appeared. It was a bit touch-and-go, really, to get her ghost to appear. I think I succeeded in concealing how much effort it took from Heydyl.
Once Lynae’s spirit manifested, I left the two of them alone. When Heydyl came out, Lynae was already gone, which pleased me. I didn’t relish summoning her, but sending her back was even less savory.
As far as Heydyl goes, he’s cried himself out, I think, but what he needs more than anything is time. Time, and something to do. I’ve had that feeling, myself.
Dantos understood what I wanted. I think he understands what Heydyl needs, too, which isn’t necessarily the same thing. At any rate, Dantos is keeping a close eye on the boy.
While Heydyl is getting his education, I’m keeping track of various nobility in their progress toward Carrillon. Lissette has the palace castellan setting things up for the big meeting. The various houses of the nobility—the micro-estates, the lesser palaces surrounding the Royal Palace in the heart of the oldest district of Carrillon—are opening up, airing out, and getting ready for visits from Their Lords and Ladyships. Things seem to be on schedule.
Kammen suggested he go keep an eye on the place. I’m not sure what for, but I pushed him through a gate anyway. Whatever his reason, he doesn’t need to
clear it with me. If he thinks he needs to be there, I send him. Simple. Besides, Torvil has taken over the bodyguard scheduling, much to my annoyance. I’m being followed at all times by at least two guys while other pairs stand watches over various rooms—bedroom, gate room, workroom, dining room…
What makes it weird is the way everybody has been fighting to get a turn at guarding the King—it seems to be a prestigious position, but don’t ask me why. Torvil’s started formal contests. In fact, he invented a game.
Teams consist of two armored knights and one unarmored target. Everyone gets sticks instead of swords, but that’s about it for the safety measures. Two or more teams are put into the arena with the objectives of protecting their target and nailing everyone else’s target. The winning team is the one with the last “live” target. The winning teams get to serve as bodyguards. That’s pretty much the rules. Yes, you’re allowed to injure people. They feel it lends a certain sense of realism and urgency to the game if participants know they’re going to—not “likely to,” but “going to”—bleed. Fine by me if that’s how they want to do it, but I’ve put my foot down regarding helmets. Brain injuries are tricky things.
He calls it sicaricudo, which roughly translates to “Assassins Attack.” It’s surprisingly popular.
Chess may be the sport of kings, but sicaricudo is apparently the sport of knights. At least they get to practice their martial skills, quick thinking, and magic. It’s a brutal, brutal game. The Romans would have loved it in the Colosseum. Personally, I wouldn’t play it except at gunpoint.
Today also marked the latest attempt by Johann & Co. to do something nasty.
First thing this morning, I was in my waterfall, minding my own business, when the air did that spatial distortion thing. It took me a moment or two to recognize the feeling. I felt it without seeing it and had to look around for it.
The gate opened in the ceiling. Wherever the other end of it was, it was underwater. I went from waterfall to waterflood in nothing flat. One moment, I’m having a shower. The next, I’ve had a swimming pool dumped on me—make that a lake, complete with scattered plant life, murk, and a few fish! I stood in the depression serving as a bathtub, holding my breath, and considered how to avoid drowning in my bathroom. Climb to a vent hole and hope the water drained quickly enough? Push on the door and hope I could either get out or drain the room quickly?
I needn’t have worried. As the ceiling gate closed, another gate opened in the floor—not directly underneath me, thank goodness. As suddenly as the floods rose, the waters receded, doing their dead-level best to suck me down the drain with them. I grabbed for anything as a handhold and latched on to the toilet. I clung like a football frat boy after the homecoming game—that is, as if my life depended on it, which it did.
The waters drained. The gate closed. Silence fell, broken only by the gentle splash of the waterfall and a fish flopping on the wet floor next to me. It looked about as startled as I was. I didn’t blame it for a minute. I did pick it up and put it in the overflow pipe, though. It had a chance, that way, swimming downstream.
One of my bodyguards—Varicon, a grey sash recently confirmed as Sir Varicon; I’ve been doing that a lot, too—pushed the bathroom door open. As it swung aside, he stuck his head in.
“Everything all right, my lord?”
“Perfect,” I lied, sitting on the floor, next to the toilet, naked, muddy, and dripping. “Just peachy.”
He took the hint and shut the door again.
“Firebrand?”
Still here, Boss. It steamed for a moment, drying itself and the scabbard.
“I’m glad you’re on a hook, rather than just lying there.”
Me, too. I’m not liking this flushing thing, Boss. We gotta do something about this Johann guy.
“Yes,” I agreed, seething slightly, possibly even steaming a bit. “Yes, we do. Right now, though, we’re in no condition to go chasing after him. What concerns me more are his growing abilities.”
What do you mean, Boss?
“He’s getting better with gates. Sure, he’s got tons of power to play with, so he doesn’t have to worry as much as I do about niceties—having a matching structure at both ends, for example.”
You don’t worry about it, either, Firebrand pointed out.
“I always worry about it,” I countered. “I sometimes do it anyway, but it eats into my power budget something awful. He has a lot more to spend. And he’s getting better at it. That little attempt at flushing me involved two gates, large ones, in rapid sequence.”
He could have help. He’s got kids and grandkids, remember?
“And they’re doubtless helping him,” I agreed. “That makes rapid-sequence gates simpler. But my real concern is his ability to target them.”
You hit marks pretty regularly.
“That’s because I use a magic mirror to aim them. He shouldn’t even be able to pick me up on radar, much less get a target lock.”
Why not?
“Because I’m hidden. The city has a scryshield, the palace has another one, I’m wearing my Ring of Obfuscation and an amu—” I broke off. My amulet was in Carrillon, somewhere.
Language, Boss.
“Right. Fine. But I’m still hidden from magical scanning. I paid attention to the fact he’s likely looking at me from a direction other than the basic three and took it into account on Mary’s ring as well as mine. I’m not sure how he’s finding me, dammit!”
So, we deal with him sooner, maybe? Firebrand asked, eagerly.
“Not unless he really steps up his game. I have to finish things here before I go risking my neck in an all-out confrontation. Besides, I still haven’t figured out a good way to tackle him.”
If you say so, Boss. I think we should go deal with him now so you can get stuff done without going down the toilet. I don’t know where all the water went, but it can’t be a place that’s good for you!
“It’s tempting, but there’s no telling how long it will take. I’ve got time constraints to think about.”
I finished my evening transformation, cast some spells to dry, clean, and de-gunkify the bathroom, and headed over to my new gate room. I had a word with Kammen in the mirror and he started looking for my old jewelry.
Meanwhile, I examined the spells protecting my privacy. To my mind, it’s already been established that some sort of inter-universal scrying or location spell can bypass normal shields, but my Ring of Obfuscation should be effective in a hypersphere, not limited to three dimensions. But those only hide me. They don’t stop inter-universal effects of other sorts.
The problem with most defensive spells is they define a space and mark a border. Spells from other universes aren’t coming across a border. They don’t start from point A and cross the magical line on their way to point B.
Now, I’m dealing with someone who lives in another world. His spells are reaching for me across the void between universes. They “pop out” into this world wherever they like, including inside shield spells.
Draw a circle on a sheet of paper. Anything inside the circle is protected. You can start anywhere on the paper and draw a line, but you can’t go through the circle. Simple. But if you start in mid-air—if you start somewhere not actually on the paper—you can touch down anywhere inside the circle. Same deal.
The only thing I can think of is a sort of cross-universe scrying portal. Whether that requires a gate spell or not is an open question. Would it be simplest to open a pinprick-sized gate and look through it? Or would it be cheaper to create some sort of scrying window and use it like a security camera, hoping to spot me and track me down that way? Do I have one in my bathroom right now?
I did a sweep of the place because I’m paranoid. Nothing.
Still, there might not be an active one at that moment. If they could fix the coordinates of—for them—the far end of the wormhole, they could open it up for a look every so often, occasionally catching me in my bathroom. Or my bedroom. Or wherever they’ve see
n me before and choose to look again. The one thing they won’t do is leave it open and active for me to find.
Maybe I should spend more time in different areas of the palace. Would that make it harder for them to find me and target me? It’s worth a shot, at least…
I went down to my geode gate room to enchant some more power crystals. I might need them for research into inter-universal theory.
Tuesday, March 9th
There are a couple of different tactics I’m trying in my anti-Johann defenses. One of them relies on the effect I noted in my farmhouse research. It’s more difficult to establish a gate in an area of destabilized spacetime. Things like the gravity well of a planet make a dent; this is what we call “making life complicated.” Even worse is making the structure of spacetime fluctuate. It’s a bit like the differences in standing somewhere flat compared to standing on an incline compared to standing on an incline that’s rippling like a wavy sea. The difficulty keeps going up.
As a side effect, I realized I could stabilize the area around my existing gate and make things that much easier for me. By smoothing out some of the spacetime distortions we normally take for granted—or don’t even perceive! —my gates should be a lot easier to open, provided I have lots of time to set it up. More work up front means less work in use. Proper preparation is fundamental.
However, my defenses are still a bit iffy. I can create distortions inside the city’s shields, but those won’t stop Johann. At best, he’ll have to try harder, and with a nexus or four to power his spells, I’m certain he can. But I’ll make him work for it, at least.
Seldar came in with breakfast. He took the opportunity to mention he wanted to start having morning meetings again. I shrugged and agreed. With the city running smoothly and no wars to manage, it seemed reasonable. Besides, how long could a meeting take? By then, I already made considerable progress on my inter-universal research. I could use a break.
