Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  Magrane gulped the remains of his coffee, which was growing cold, made a sour face, and continued. "Without allies, without committed allies, we are alone. Alone, we cannot hope to stand against Acedor. Even powerful nations like Indus now refuse to extend us credit to buy supplies we need for our survival, they insist on being paid with gold, lest Acedor overwhelm us before we can pay our creditors. I fear that Ariana will be the last ruler of Tarador. And my fear, my lack of faith in our future, makes me unable to properly fulfill my duty to our future queen. A general who sees no hope of victory cannot lead an army. I intend to resign at the end of this year."

  Paedris was greatly alarmed. Grand General Magrane was his best ally against the Regent, one of the few people of sufficient stature to make Carlana listen, who agreed with Paedris about the need to take action against the enemy. Mostly, the two men had argued fruitlessly with the Regent, but Paedris had hope to change that soon. "General, I can understand your despair. Please remember," Paedris held his left hand open, and a searingly bright ball of fire briefly lit up the room, "that we have significant power on our side also."

  Magrane blinked to clear his vision, seeing an after image of the fireball dancing in front of his eyes. "Paedris, I know you are a powerful wizard, perhaps the most powerful wizard in the land, but even you-"

  "No, I-", Paedris caught himself before he revealed the truth. Not even Grand General Magrane could know about Koren. Carlana was safe within the castle, while Magrane went into the field with the army, where he might be captured. Captured, and given to an enemy wizard, who would strip the general's mind open, and reveal any secrets his mind held. "I do not despair. There are certain reasons, known only to wizards, why our fortunes will change dramatically, for the better, during Ariana's reign. Within a very few years."

  Magrane looked up sharply at the wizard. "You speak truthfully? Not merely providing comfort to an old man?"

  "Soon, other members of the Wizards Council will arrive here in Linden, to make plans for the future." Paedris leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "Believe me," he said as he added just a hint of reassuring magic behind his words, "this nation will survive. Leon, for the first time since I journeyed across the sea, to pledge my services to our long struggle against the enemy, I can see the end of this war. Within not just my lifetime, but yours." Paedris truly believed his words. The wizard held out his hand. "Keep your boots on, General, your nation needs you."

  Magrane nodded. He had not wanted to resign, and whether he completely believed the wizard or not, he could see the wizard believed. He took the wizard's hand in a strong grip and shook it. "I know better than to ask for the secrets of wizards, but, agreed. We'll see this through to the end, you and I."

  "Excellent! More coffee?"

  "Koren! Koren? Now, where is that boy? Oh, there you are." The wizard announced, as Koren stepped breathlessly through the doorway, having run up two flights of stairs as quickly as he could. "I need to send this message to Duke Magnico, run this," he held out a rolled-up scroll of paper, "over to the telegraph."

  Koren got a pained expression on his face, which the wizard failed to notice, as he had already turned his attention back to the bubbling glass containers on the laboratory workbench. Tell a griff? What is a griff, and what was Koren supposed to tell it? "Uh, sir, what is a griff?"

  This got the astonished wizard's attention. "A griff?"

  "Yes, sir, you wanted me to tell a griff something?" Koren assumed whatever he was to tell the griff was on the scroll.

  Paedris chuckled softly. It had not occurred to him that Koren Bladewell, farm boy from tiny Crebbs Ford, had no idea what a telegraph was. "Not tell-a-griff. A telegraph. It is a series of towers across Tarador, with one visible from the next, to carry messages. You must have seen the one atop the hill to the east of the city? The office here is at army headquarters, across the courtyard."

  Koren had indeed seen the tower, with a strange looking contraption on top; wooden arms somewhat like a windmill, only instead of sails, the arms had flags. "Is that what the tower is for, sir?"

  "Yes, it is quite clever, I had never seen one before I came to Tarador," the wizard admitted, "the position of the arms, and the type of flags, spell out words. At night, colored lanterns are used, rather than flags. The first part of each message tells who the message is from, the next part tells who the message is addressed to, then the actual message. Most royal, or army, messages, are put into a code, to keep them secret. There are such towers throughout Tarador, connecting Linden to each of the provincial capitals, and some of the Dukes have their own telegraph lines to connect them directly. With the telegraph system, a message can cross the nation from southeast to northwest in a single day! Depending on weather, of course; fog, rain or snow can block the view from one tower to the next."

  "That is amazing, sir!" Koren was truly impressed, he had never imagined such a thing. Twice in his life, he had seen couriers riding fast horses through Crebbs Ford, headed toward the Baron's castle. He assumed all messages traveled by courier on horseback, how else could it be? "But, but I thought you sent messages by, uh, magic, or something. Like that hawk last week." A hawk had flown to the windowsill, and pecked at the window glass, until the wizard let it in, and retrieved a small message scroll that was tied to the bird's leg.

  "Oh, yes, the army also uses pigeons, they are trained to fly to one place, like the royal palace, from wherever they are released. The problem you see, is that a pigeon can only fly to one place, which is not quite convenient. And pigeons, of course, can fall prey to falcons."

  "But the hawk, sir?"

  "Oh, the hawk. That was magic. I told the hawk to find a merchant I know, the man, well, he lives by the coast, and keeps an eye out for enemy agents around our ports. This merchant moves around quite a bit, so I couldn't send a message to a fixed address."

  "How did the hawk find him, sir?"

  "Huh? Oh," sometimes Paedris forgot how even simple magic wasn't obvious to ordinary people. "You see, I put a picture in the hawk's mind what the merchant looks like, hawks have exceptional eyes, of course. And I also told the hawk several places the merchant might be. That, uh, is rather odd, for birds don't see the world the way we do, they navigate by the position of the sun, and along invisible lines of energy, I don't know how to explain it. It is disturbing, that type of magic, so be in an animal's mind, however briefly. But, it might not work anyway, except that I have a piece of cloth with the merchant's scent on it. Those little metal boxes I keep in the cupboard? Each one has a cloth with a person's scent on it. The hawk delivers my message, then waits for a reply message to be tied to its leg, and returns to me."

  "I was wondering what those little boxes were, sir." Invisible lines of energy? The world of wizards would truly be forever beyond Koren's comprehension. Ah, so what? It wasn't anything he needed to know as the wizard's servant. "I will carry your message to the telegraph office right away, sir."

  While Kyre Falco was still glowing from the day, the party to open the maze was not quite a triumph for Koren. Servants in the castle had started whispering as soon as they saw Koren get out of the royal carriage on the return from LeVanne. Koren had gotten out of the carriage before it went through the castle gate, because Carlana was sure there would be a scandal if a young man was seen with the princess at the palace. Still, enough people saw Koren get out of the carriage, saw him wearing nice, clean clothes, and saw the princess lean out of the carriage, waving to him as the carriage drove through the gate. Then, the servant who brought to Koren the invitation to have lunch with the princess had told a few people, who told other people, who told other people. Word got around that this new boy, a poor, uneducated farm boy, a commoner, whose lot in life was to clean up after the wizard, this boy was putting on airs. Thinking he was better than the other servants.

  It was bad enough that Koren was invited to the palace, to dine with the princess. When Koren was invited to the grand party that opened the royal maze, a pa
rty where a large number of servants were there working properly as servants, while Koren cavorted, and ran around, and laughed and ate fine food, with the royalty, right in front of the servants, well, clearly something had to be done to put the new boy back in his place.

  Bart Loman didn’t have the best of luck. What he had imagined, when he thought of showing this Koren Bladewell his proper place in the castle, was for Koren to be dressed in the fancy clothes he wore when he visited the palace to dine with the princess, where he no doubt drank tea from fine crystal cups, with his pinky finger in the air. Bart had imagined Koren smelling of flowery perfume, having his hair cleaned, combed and tied back in a fancy ribbon. The picture should have been of Koren striding across the courtyard, nose in the air, looking down on all the other servants.

  What Bart Loman got instead was Koren, having exercised, fed and brushed Thunderbolt, and then worked for an hour in the stables hauling hay bales and mucking out stalls to pay for the horse’s keep, walking back to the wizard’s tower, bent low under a load of firewood slung over his shoulders. He was in old, patched and dirty second-hand clothing, his hair tangled with bits of hay stuck in it, and he smelled, well, he smelled like what his second-hand boots had stepped in at the stables.

  Bart chewed on his lip while he thought. The gang of servants he had gathered looked at him, questioningly. Koren was supposed to be having lunch with the princess, in the palace, like he had done on the first day of the week for the past month! Why was he looking, and working, like a common servant? Working, in fact, harder than Bart Loman ever did, since Bart preferred shirking to working. Bart’s personal motto was, in fact, why work when you can shirk? Bart didn’t know that the Regent had declared her daughter needed to spend her time studying the history and customs of the Indus Empire, which was sending a new ambassador to Tarador soon, so Ariana had no time for lunches with Koren.

  Seeing Koren working so hard didn’t make Bart reconsider his plans, it only made him grit his teeth in anger. Not only was the new boy dining with royalty above his station, he was now also making other servants look bad! “Come on, boys, let’s show him how things are done around here.”

  Bart glanced around, looking for guards, then strode out into the courtyard, leading his gang of a dozen servants. Bart stepped in front of Koren, blocking his path, while the others surrounded the tired young man.

  Koren knew this was trouble. He had seen Bart around the castle, the other boy was fifteen, almost sixteen, tall and big for his age. Bart’s straight black hair was pulled back like the way soldiers wore their hair, and the expression on his face was anything but friendly. He had a reputation as a bully, and Koren had avoided him, but that wouldn’t work now. With a sigh, Koren set the firewood down behind him. “Hey, you’re Bart, aren’t you?”

  “Aye, that’s my name, your lordship.” Bart said in a sneering voice, as he bowed mockingly. “Surprised you know the name of a lowly servant, your lordship being all high and mighty, and dining in the palace with the princess.”

  “I’m not a lord, I’m a servant.” Koren protested. “The wizard’s servant.” He added, knowing that most people feared Paedris.

  “Aye, a servant when you have to be, when you’re not putting on your fancy clothes, and dining with the princess, and having her show you around the palace like you’re picking out which room you want for yourself. Being a servant like us isn’t good enough for you, you’re better than the likes of us here.” Bart glanced at the other boys, seeing with satisfaction that his words had hit home; they were nodding, and muttering, and shaking fists at Koren. Bart kept going, before Koren could answer, “And you spreading fairy tales about how you’re a hero, saving the princess from a bear, and a pack of wolves, and half the Acedor army, and then you sprouted wings, and flew her to safety.” Bart got a good laugh from his boys from that joke. “What really happened that day, Sir Koren the Brave? Oh, I forgot, you didn’t get a knighthood.”

  It was Koren’s turn to grit his teeth. As much as he wanted to tell Bart that he had saved the princess, not once but three times, while the princess’ personal guards had floundered uselessly in the water, he had promised Paedris that he would stick to the agreed story. “She fell into the water when the boat flipped over-“

  “Ha!” Bart scoffed. “What I hear, is you fell into the water, tripped over your own feet and fell in, and she rescued you. Sounds a lot more likely a story, right, boys? Or you want us to believe fairy tales about you scaring away a bear, and a pack o’ bandits?” All the servants laughed at that.

  “You know what else I hear?” Bart continued. “I hear you’re a jinx, you’re cursed. Cursed, and there must be a reason for a curse like that, don’t happen for no reason. What’d you do, to get a curse like that?”

  “I’m not a jinx! Paedris says there is no such thing!”

  Bart shook his head slowly. “Boys, he’s as gullible as he is stupid. Course the wizard told you you’re not a jinx! Told you what you want to hear, he did. Why you think he’s got you living in his tower? So he can keep an eye on you, and stop your curse from hurting anyone else, that’s why! It’s plain as the nose on your face to anyone else, you’re too dumb to see the truth.”

  Koren paused, mouth open. He had been thinking of a good insult to throw at Bart, but the other boy’s words struck him. There was a ring of truth to what Bart said. The wizard had only offered to let Koren live with him, after Koren told him about being a terrible, dangerous jinx.

  Bart laughed and pointed at Koren. “Look at that mouth open! A mouth like that needs a hook in it, doesn’t it, fishy?”

  “Shut up!” Was all Koren could think to say in return, any clever insults had temporarily left his brain.

  Bart was encouraged by Koren’s obvious anger. “Another thing, your parents abandoned you? I don’t blame them. Any ungrateful son like you deserves to get dumped in the woods.”

  “I am not ungrateful!” Koren shot back hotly.

  “Oh, no? Your family was forced out of their home, because of you. You caused all the trouble, you stinking, cursed jinx. The decent thing to do was for you to run away by yourself, and not make your parents leave their home, because of you.”

  “I, I didn’t-” Koren didn’t know what to say.

  “Admit it! You didn’t care about your par-” Bart’s thought was cut off, when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt collar and yanked him back roughly.

  “Bart!” Cully said as he released hold of the other boy’s shirt collar. “You making trouble again, with your pack o’ ruffians? Shirking, when you should be working?”

  “Stay out of this, Cully!” Bart warned.

  “Cully, I can fight my own battles.” Koren said, but Bart’s words about how he should have run away, and saved his parents from being exiled, that stung him badly, and he didn’t have much fight left in him.

  Cully edged sideways to stand next to Koren. “Yeah, but you doesn’t always have to fight your battles alone. Shoulda told you about old Bart here, the big lummox, he don’t like to see anyone working round the castle, makes him look bad.”

  “I’m warning you, Cully!” Bart shouted as he raised his fists, looking around the courtyard to judge whether it was safe, for the moment, to get into a brawl.

  “And I’m warning you, Bart Lummox, that I’ve thumped you before, and I’ll thump you again.” Cully stood his ground, not afraid of the bigger boy. “Now, you git! Git outa here, or I’ll thump you bad enough, you’ll be shirking in the hospital.”

  Bart took a step back. Cully had thumped him before, twice before. The smaller boy was surprisingly fast, and Cully fought dirty. Bart saw the stricken look on Koren’s face, and knew he had hurt the wizard’s brat badly enough with his words, fist weren’t needed. And trouble would only get Bart assigned more working, and less shirking. “Bah,” Bart scoffed with a wave of his hand toward Koren, “his lordship’s not worth our time, boys, let’s leave him here with his servant Cully.”

  Cully helped Koren car
ry the firewood to the wizard’s tower, then left, warning Koren to avoid Bart Loman. And also warning that, if Koren continued to dine at the palace like he was royalty, he shouldn’t be surprised that some people, Cully included, got irritated at the special treatment.

  Koren hauled the firewood up the stairs in several trips, and stacked it, and added some logs to the fire in the chamber where the wizard was working. When Koren brought lunch to the wizard, he paused on his way out the door, and asked “Paedris, sir, um, are you sure I’m not a jinx? That, you’re not using your wizard power to stop me from hurting people, from making bad things happen?”