by Guy Antibes
“There. Faster than any bird,” Pol said.
“Good.” She put her chin on Pol’s knee. “I like it here. Can we make Redearth as warm a place?”
Pol laughed. “It’s not the house that makes it warm; it’s the people inside.”
She smiled at him. “You are exactly right. I’m afraid I’ll never be as warm as Kell’s mother.”
“You can work on it, just a bit. I like you as you are. Anyway, you can cook more than omelets.”
Shira looked up at him. “I know. I enjoyed her banter with the cook. I can be just as nice to our servants.”
“Our servants,” Pol said. “I like the sound of that.”
~
Pol and Shira walked through Trollhem looking at the faces of the citizens, choosing which faces they would use when they traveled to West Huffnya. Kell and Loa had some family members that his mother wanted them to visit with their good news.
Shira pulled Pol into a clothing store. “We are going on a trip to West Huffnya and will need some traveling clothes.”
The clerk, a woman, eyed both of them up and down. “Those are Yastan-style clothes.”
Pol nodded, “I work for Digbee Trading and don’t want to stand out.”
“Traveling on the sly, eh?” Her face brightened after a conspiratorial look. “Certainly. We have some styles that are worn from here to the north. That would work best.”
Pol nodded. “Something less feminine for Shira.”
“Traveling as a boy?” The woman nodded. “I have just the thing for you.”
They walked out of the shop, their arms filled with packages.
“I think we bought more than we needed,” Shira said.
“In retrospect, I believe we encountered an expert salesperson.”
“We did indeed,” Shira said. “But we are well-prepared to head north.”
“We are. I can leave my Yastan clothes behind.”
“There is no choice. I can’t bring anything else.”
With their burdens, they cut short their tour of Trollhem and returned to the Digbee mansion.
The cook answered the door. “Your hosts will be out until late tonight. Master Kell told me that you would be leaving tomorrow before noon, and you can spend the rest of the day getting ready to leave if that is acceptable, My Prince.”
Pol smiled. “It is if you fix us a good dinner.”
The Cook returned Pol’s smile with a grin. “Always a pleasure to cook for royalty. There’s none in Fen, being run by a council and all. Kell’s father is on the Fen Council, so he’s as close as it gets.”
“We will leave it to you,” Shira said. She looked at Pol. “I’m going up to my room and try on my clothes. You should do the same.”
As Pol finished testing the fit of his new clothes, he noticed the runes looking different in his rune book. Malden had replied. He had to smile at the response. Within less than a day, he had sent a message, and it had a reply. Malden would take the information to Ranno, who still had more sway over the Imperial magicians, and then send out teams. Pol noted the correct code and erased the message with a small lodestone.
~~~
Chapter Six
~
P ol turned in his saddle, looking back at the skyline of Trollhem. He had enjoyed his few days in the capital of Fen and looked forward to returning sometime.
They had excellent grain, Demeron said. I hope we come back through Fen.
Shira laughed. “Amble agrees. As for me, our dinner last night was very, very good. Kell’s parents have an excellent cook.”
Kell nodded his head. “It’s that or omelets for every meal. My mother loves to make them, but it doesn’t take too many meals to wish for variety. Our cook is worth her weight in gold, and that is about what my father pays her. She is well-compensated.”
“I should steal her away when I take up residence at Redearth.”
“That won’t happen. She is my mother’s best friend, despite being a servant.”
“I like that,” Shira said.
“Time to disguise,” Pol said. He went through a bit of pain, although less than usual, as he turned into a brownish blond Fenian.
Shira kept her dark hair, but now she had a lighter complexion, and Pol could see the features of one of the Digbee’s stableboys looking at him.
Kell squinted his eyes at Shira. “Dale. You look like my father’s—”
“Stable boy, I know,” Shira said. “At least you’ll be able to recognize me standing amidst other teenagers.”
“That’s one way to look younger,” Pol said, smiling. “Are you going to go by Dale?”
“Why not?” Shira said, lifting her eyebrows.
She still acted like a girl. Pol corrected himself. Shira was older than he and now a woman. “What’s a good Fenian name for me?”
“Buck. Let’s call you Buck. That’s a manly name,” Kell said. “It’s not one usually used by traders, but then you are my assistant, right?”
“Buck it is. Start calling me that so we can get used to it. Does that work for you, Dale?”
Shira smirked. “Sure, Buck.”
She said Pol’s new name with a little too much emphasis for Pol’s taste.
~
They crossed the border into the Kingdom of Ziastya. Pol could feel the difference. Gone were brick and stone construction. Most building walls had light-colored plaster. The villages reminded Pol of Kirian villages, except for the high-peaked roofs the Ziastyans held in common with the Fenians.
The night was just about on them, and Kell knew of an inn he’d stayed at before. The only room left for the night was a four-bed affair, so they would sleep in the same room.
The inn’s dining room had a wait, making them take their dinner in the common room.
“What is filling up the inn?” Kell asked the server.
“Look at the clientele.”
Pol saw rough men. “Mercenaries? How long has it been like this? They are heading to West Huffnya?”
The server nodded. “Ten days. They are coming from Daftine and the Dukedoms. This lot will clear out in a day or two, and there will be more. Is that where you are headed?”
“I’m a trader. I’d like to go into West Huffnya, but perhaps I’ll enter from Barna,” Kell said.
“That is what I would do.”
“Are there recruiters in town?” Pol looked around but did not see the kind of person the Winnowers used to spread mind-control.
“Recruiters for West Huffnya?”
“The Winnow Society. We ran into a few last week.”
She shook her head. “We aren’t very happy about them. Zalistya is an Imperial Kingdom, and we’d like to keep it that way.”
Good for her, thought Pol.
“We won’t keep you,” Kell said. “What is good tonight?”
“For you? Lamb, not mutton, served with potatoes and creamed celery.”
“Creamed celery?” Shira said.
“Quiet, Dale,” Pol said.
“Keep your own tongue in your head, Buck.” Shira sounded like a surly character.
Pol half expected her to stick her tongue out at him, but she gave him a surreptitious wink.
“We’ll have that,” Kell said, looking at Shira with half a smile.
“I’ll be doing a little writing tonight,” Pol said.
“A little bedtime story?” Shira smiled.
“Bedtime for Ranno. It’s apparent that things are heating up. I wonder what confronts us to the north.”
The server brought their food.
Pol had to admit he had not eaten creamed celery before, but it was like a small stew with carrots, onions, and tiny cubes of chicken. The celery was bigger, and he liked it.
“Is this a specialty of Ziastya?”
“Special to this inn,” she said.
“How come we didn’t get any of that?” a ruffian from the next table said, looking at their meals.
“We are paying a higher price, right?” Kell said.
�
�Double,” the server said.
The lanky man stood up. He had a week’s worth of whiskers blurring his face. He pushed his chair aside, showing a table full of mugs.
“I don’t like the looks of all you,” he said, pulling a knife.
Pol stood up. “It would be better if you sat down.”
He looked down at the drunk who looked up at him with a sneer. “I’ll make you more than sit down.”
“Sit down,” one of his mates slurred. “We promised we wouldn’t get into any trouble.”
“I’m reneging on that,” the man said as he took a swipe at Pol, who moved back with the barest sip of magic. The ruffian did it again, but Pol moved in this time and grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting his hand down and away. The knife clattered to the floor.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” Pol said to the men at the drunk’s table. “I’m traveling with this trader as his bodyguard. I say that as a warning. I don’t want any trouble. Take care of your friend, and we can all be friendly.”
Pol sat back down and had some more of the creamed celery concoction. He set a physical shield, something he was loathe to do, but he would not be taken unawares as he had been with the Scorpions. A knife clattered to the floor. Pol jumped up and saw one of the drunk’s friends looking amazed.
“Are you a magician?”
“What a stupid thing to say,” Pol said. “Of course I am. I warned you, I am an expert bodyguard.”
The man standing nodded to his fellows. They all struggled to their feet, but before they stood upright, Pol put them to sleep. Some fell on the floor, and a few more collapsed on the table.
“I am sorry,” Pol said, still standing as he addressed the onlookers. “I did warn them. If any of you are these gentlemen’s friends, I would appreciate your taking them to their rooms.”
“Or I’ll take them to less-friendly rooms at the constabulary,” a uniformed individual said, standing at the entrance to the common room. Two men in similar garb stood next to the officer.
That quieted the room down. The patrons ducked their heads and sipped their mugs or continued to eat quietly.
Pol nodded and continued to eat his dinner. Kell, Shira, and he did not mutter another word. When they finished, they called the server over.
“How much?” Pol said.
“No charge,” she said in a small voice.
“Nonsense.” Pol pressed a small Fenian gold coin in her hand. “This should be enough. Don’t look at it until you are out of the room,” Pol said quietly. The coin would have probably paid for all the food and drinks consumed that night.
Kell nodded at Pol and Shira to leave. The local guard still stood watching over the room as Pol walked past.
“A moment if you’ve a mind,” the officer said.
“Of course,” Pol looked at Kell and Shira. “Why don’t you head up to our room?” he said. Pol watched the pair go up the stairs before he turned to the officer. “How can I help you?”
“Your name will make a start.”
“Buck.”
“Buck from where?”
“Yastan,” Pol said.
The officer crossed his arms and stared at Pol. “Outside.”
Pol nodded and walked between the officer and his two men.
“So, are you a Seeker?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You’re wearing a disguise. You are a high-level magician, likely a pattern-master.”
“I am that, but I’m not officially a Seeker,” Pol said. He had no reason to lie to the officer and possibly gain some local information. “My real name is Pol, and you are?”
The man looked at Pol. “I’m Sergeant Backburn.
“I assume you don’t like the customers streaming through Ziastya?”
“I don’t.”
“Perhaps we can talk in more private surroundings,” Pol said, once he let a small group of men pass them.
“Across the street,” Backburn said, as he pointed to a guard office with the sign ‘Constabulary’ hanging above the window.
Once inside, Backburn told his men to return to the inn. “That’s the best inn in town, and whoever is sending those men to West Huffnya is telling them to stay.”
Pol nodded.
“Why are you here?”
We are just passing through. Kell really is a trader. He is part of Digbee Trading.”
“I’ve heard of them. Where are they based?”
“Trollhem. They have offices on both sides of Volia. I’ve been to both.”
“At least you’ve done your preparation.”
“More than that. I am on a mission for the Emperor.”
“You said you weren’t a Seeker.”
“Not officially, but I was asked by the Emperor’s Instrument to investigate what is happening in West Huffnya.”
“Can you prove it?”
Pol laughed. “I carry an authorization on me.” He showed his badge to the sergeant.
Backburn bit his lip. “What can I tell you?”
“How long and roughly how many have passed through this town heading north?”
“Probably a thousand or a few more. They are all like the ones you met tonight. I have two men watching the inn all day and all night. Most of the time, they just pass through. Occasionally, we have to take further measures.”
“I tried to calm things down,” Pol said.
“I know. I watched the common room before you and your friends came down.”
Pol looked around the constable’s quarters. “And you are a magician?”
“Ex-Seeker. There are enough around the Empire.”
“Do you know Fadden Loria?”
The officer sat up straighter. “I do. He is a friend of yours? I thought he went to Volia.”
“He returned with us. He is at Port Mancus.”
“Are you from Deftnis?”
Pol nodded.
Backburn’s eyes narrowed. “What is the name of the mayor of the village on the Isle?”
“Garylle Handson. Do you want me to describe his house?”
“I guess I have to believe you, even if you tell me you are the Emperor.”
Pol grinned. “His adopted son, actually.”
“Prince Pol? I thought you disappeared,” Backburn said. “My Prince.”
“You need to get more up-to-date. I returned not too long ago. From Daera, actually.”
“The Emperor doesn’t hesitate to send you into danger.”
Pol nodded. “The West Huffnyans have been able to evade a string of Seekers. I have some unique abilities, and the Empire needs to assess what it is up against.”
“An army much larger than two thousand men,” Backburn said.
“Armies in more than one place. An army is rising in Daftine, and the Winnow Society is already in league with North Salvan.”
“You make it sound like desperate times, but I suppose that’s where the Empire is headed, civil war.”
“How solid is Zalistya?”
Backburn looked into Pol’s eyes. “You’ve shared with me, now I’ll share with you. I took this job to keep the peace with the flow of ruffians through this town. They need a bit more minding than the former constable did. I haven’t seen the likes of you here for some time.”
“What level magician are you?”
“In Deftnis terms? Maybe a gray. The highest is black, right? I didn’t learn at Deftnis, but I’ve been there twice.”
Pol rose to his feet. “It’s time I introduced you to my friends. I have something to give to you, but it is in our rooms.”
~
“Amazing,” Backburn said, holding a thin rune book in one hand and a thumb-sized lodestone in the other. “How many of these do you have?”
“I have one other in my things. You will have to share this with others. Do you think you can work it?”
“With pleasure. This is much better than birds.”
“Faster, easier, with confirmation, and no bird droppings,” Shira said.
<
br /> He looked at her. “A woman, huh? She must be a powerful magician to send her to West Huffnya.”
“I’m not without skills,” Shira said.
“Ranno Wissingbel knows what he’s doing, uh, Dale?” Backburn looked back at Pol. “It only gets more dangerous heading north. Good luck.”
Pol smiled. “Thanks. That is a two-way book, so let us know if you hear anything significant. Remember the page marked ‘M’ is linked to Malden Gastoria’s book.”
Backburn shook his head. “This is wonderful. I can even imagine it has commercial purposes.”
“That’s how it started,” Pol said. “I learned about rune books in Zasos on Daera. They were used for gambling.” He made sure he taught Backburn how to shield himself from mind-control. “I would refresh it every few weeks.”
“Then I’ll help as many as I can and renew the shield every week. The Winnow Society is only going to get worse.”
In the morning, Pol stopped the server from the night before. “Do you know Constable Backburn?”
“We all do. He has intervened in fights a number of times. He’s a former Seeker and seems to be a good man,” she said.
“Thanks,” Pol said. He might have been a bit hasty trusting the man, but he did know all the right answers and saw through their disguises. Right after they left the town, Pol sent a message to Malden to verify if the man was a Seeker and that he had no complaints.
Pol sighed with relief after Malden sent a message that Backburn had already sent a message asking about Pol and if he should have trusted him.
“That is a mark for him,” Kell said as they turned west at a village crossroads a few hours north of the town. “I wouldn’t trust anyone in Barna or West Huffnya at this point. The Barnans are always restless. Remember the border dispute when we first visited Yastan?”
“How can I forget Namion’s shield? I no longer have my Demron steel weapons.”
“I know where some of the knives and splinters are,” Shira said. “In Tishiko. I think the Bureaucracy was able to retrieve them. Your sword and long knife must be in possession of the Scorpions.”
“No, they aren’t,” Pol said. “I hid them in the bedroom wall at the Fearless pagoda. They won’t do me much good all the way up here, six or seven weeks of hard travel away.”
“What will you do if you have to fight warded opponents?”
