“Let us go talk to the housekeeping staff,” Traibble replied, his eyes nervously fixed on the lights above.
They followed the court official downstairs, where they were instructed by the head housekeeper to follow another servant to the designated part of the palace. The growing group went upstairs and through halls, then across a garden and up further steps, in a part of the palace that looked run down and uncared for.
“This is not acceptable,” Jenniline said minutes later, as the servant stood on a landing in front of the door of a room on the next to top floor of the isolated stone tower they had ascended.
“No, no, I think this will be alright,” Grange countered. “We’ll have access to the roof of the tower, won’t we?” he asked. “I’d like to carry out some activities in the open air. And I like to sleep under the stars,” he added with a grin.
“But look at this,” Jenniline objected. “They’ve given us space where the mortar is rotting away from between the stonework.”
“Powers, please fix all the mortar in this tower, making it good as new, stronger than solid stone, and more attractive than gold and silver,” Grange muttered softly, his eyes closed as he focused on his effort to exercise the energy around him.
There was a series of gasps from the others in the group, and his eyes popped open.
The lights he had created overhead had dimmed tremendously, as they immediately surrendered a portion of their energy to the new task Grange had commanded. All around the group there was a sound of crackling and popping, and streaks of pure white light were soaring across the walls of the tower, following the trails of the mortar joints between the stones, leaving gleaming metal sparkles behind.
“That seems better,” Jenniline said weakly, surprised and overwhelmed by Grange’s action.
“We’ll take this,” Grange said to the two palace staff members, while the whizzing lights continued to race among the mortar lines around them. “Let’s see if there’s anything that needs to be done inside the rooms,” he added. He reached forward and opened the door to the suite.
“You’ll need to have clean, good beds brought up here immediately,” Grange told Traibble five minutes later, after a brief walking tour of the rooms on the two top floors of the tower.
“How fast can you make that happen?” he asked.
“Immediately, my lord,” the chamberlain instantly answered.
“Good, go see that it is done. Jenniline, would you go with him, and see to anything else you think we need done here?” Grange asked his ally.
She looked at him in surprise. “You want me to go?” she asked.
“There’s no one else I trust any more than you in Southgar,” Grange answered.
It was true, but he also simply wanted a chance to be alone at last. He needed to sit down and simply let the strange new reality of his life wash over him. He needed to understand, and digest, and adjust. He needed to begin to plan, and to experiment.
“Thank you,” she replied. “It’s faint praise, but I accept it.”
The others left Grange alone in his rooms, and he stood still, glad to be alone. He walked into the interior rooms and stopped. He wanted a set of stairs inside the space set aside for him, rather than having to use the stairs in the center of the tower. He could change it, he knew. He felt a much stronger affinity with the power now, a better sense of what it would accomplish, and how he could control it. He seemed to see the Flame of Focus within himself, lending him instant access to the self-control needed to call the energy.
What had caused it, he wondered, if it was even true? He might be simply overstating his case to himself in the present, he suspected, while downplaying how much control he had held in the past. No, he decided, it was a true case – he did feel more affinity with the power. Perhaps it was the result of having been honed down to his own essential core while in the wilderness, or perhaps it was simply a part of the gift of God Acton – who had given him health and memories, and might have given him greater control of the powers as well, or perhaps, he thought sadly, perhaps it was something that had been catalyzed by experiencing the deaths of the jewel elementals.
Whatever it was, he felt he could take control of the energy better than ever before, a strength that sat within him beneath all the churning emotions and shocks that were running through his soul.
And so he challenged himself to create the interior staircase he wanted.
He went back to the front room of his quarters, and looked up at the ceiling where he felt he could attempt to create the space for the stairs – or perhaps accidentally pull the top of the tower down in a pile of rubble on top of himself, he gave a grim internal laugh.
He raised his hands and pointed up, then focused on the very mortar he had just hardened.
“Great energy, please help me to make those stones open up, to build stairs inside this room, up to the next floor,” he requested of the power.
There was a sense of strain. The energy seemed to be considering the request, seemed to be interested in attempting the onerous task, but seemed not to be convinced, or perhaps strong enough, he couldn’t decide what resistance he felt.
“Energy, this is my request and command, to create the stairs here. Be my partner in this, all energy in the area,” he rechanneled his attention, closed his eyes, looked for that internal Flame of Focus, and sought to find enough power in the vicinity to make his vision a reality.
There was a loud clunk, and he opened his eyes, to see that a stone had fallen from the space he had pointed to. It sat on the floor, directly beneath where it had come from, where there was now a hole in the ceiling.
A grinding sound began, and a second stone fell into place. As Grange watched, new mortar crumbled away, and stone by stone, the ceiling opened up, creating the opening for a stairway to rise to the next level.
Except, when the opening finished creating itself there were only a portion of the stones needed to build the stairs. He had a few steps up, and then nothing more – an incomplete task.
Grange opened the door of his space, and looked out at the stairwell that rose up to the top floor. It would no longer serve any purpose, he decided, and so its stones could be salvaged and reused for his stairwell inside.
“Energy, let us finish this task by using these stones from this stairwell to complete the task,” Grange spoke to the power, as he motioned both hands towards the staircase he wished to disassemble. The blocks of stone groaned, as Grange watched the glow of arriving energy envelope them, then began to lift them free of their moorings and steadily move them through the doorway and across the floor, then up the rising steps, to settle into new spots.
He stepped from the doorway, back into his suite of rooms, to watch the new staircase rise, then was startled when he heard a shout from the doorway, and turned to see Jenniline and three servants carrying furniture up the tower stairs and into his suite of rooms.
“Grange, what are you doing?”
“Oh my word!” she said as she spotted the growing set of stairs.
“You’re,” she paused, as a stone came trundling through the door and past the wild-eyed furniture haulers, then lifted itself into place, “you’re making the stones move? You’re creating stairs?”
“I am,” Grange agreed. “Can you put the bed down there? I’ll move it to where I want it later,” he told the movers nonchalantly.
“That’ll be all for now. You can go,” Jenniline told the men, who bowed their heads and left the suite immediately, the sound of their boots on the steps clattering rapidly away.
“What about you? Do you want them to bring a bed up here for you as well?” Grange asked Jenniline.
“I think it would be better for all if I do not sleep in your quarters, in any way, shape, or form,” she answered coolly. “I have my own room in the palace, and I can be here soon enough if needed. There’s no need to give meat to wagging tongues.”
“That makes sense,” Grange said, understanding the delicacy of the situ
ation while feeling a small sense of disappointment that he would not have a companion within his quarters.
“I don’t know that I need you do to anything else for me at the moment,” he told her. There was a loud clunking sound, and he turned to see that the last stone had slid into its position, creating the new staircase between the floors of his chambers.
“You can return to your life. I’m sure you had things planned to do today,” he glanced out a window on the far side of the room, and saw that it appeared to be mid-afternoon. “Can you come back at dinner time and show me where meals are served?”
“What are you going to do?” She asked. “I don’t have to leave; I can stay if you need help,” she seemed to sense that she had stung him by refusing to reside in his quarters, and wanted to make amends.
“No, I need time alone,” Grange said sincerely. “I need time to,” he paused, “to adjust.”
Jenniline nodded her head. “I’ll be back at dinner time, if you still have stairs available to reach this place,” she told him, then left the room.
Grange smiled, and listened to her descend the stairs, then climbed up to his second floor. He walked through the rooms, and decided which he wanted for his bedroom, and summoned the bed to rise up the stairs to meet him, then settled it into place.
There was one more thing he wanted to do, while he was exercising his powers so fully, one more physical, tangible activity that would improve his quarters, and occupy his attention while he did it. Then, once it was done, he would think; he would have to think, and consider, and try to make sense of more than he could possibly comprehend.
“Friendly power, please let us make a set of steps up to the roof,” he commanded the energy, and he watched as the stones in the ceiling of his second floor descended and formed the beginning of another stair case, and were supplemented once again by more stones that came waddling up from the main staircase in the tower. Within minutes he had another staircase, and he climbed up it to reach the roof.
He would have some rain falling into his suite, he belatedly thought with a grin as he climbed up to the top of the tower and looked around. The view from the roof was outstanding. He could see nearly all the palace grounds, and what’s more, he could see wide swaths of the city spread out in every direction.
It was a lovely landscape, an inspiring view. And in the evening, he would once again have a wide open view of his beloved stars overhead. And the city would have a view of his pyrotechnic displays of power, when he engaged in them, as he expected to do. That would satisfy Jenniline by giving a demonstration of his abilities.
That would be the easy part, in some respects, he told himself, as he lay down on the roof and looked up at the sky. There were innumerable other challenges and activities he apparently faced which he could not conceive of a way to address. He was supposed to play peacemaker among warring factions in a country that he knew nothing about, and he was supposed to marry a girl from the court, and he seemed destined to be a ruler. Aside from the unimaginable prospect of living in a palace and becoming a member of the royal family – indeed, perhaps becoming the king himself someday! – there was little that appealed to him about the notion.
He imagined himself living long lazy days in the tropical northern climes of Kilau, or at worst, Palmland. They were not the place he had been born in, but they were the places that he now thought of as home, where he was comfortable and felt accepted among friends. He thought of the pleasure he would have if he could just raise his flute and play music with Guy’s band, or even perform with Grace to help crowds of listeners heal.
He suddenly thought of his flute, and wondered where it was. He had called for his sword and knife and wand to come to him, but he had forgotten to summon the flute. “Power friend, please deliver my flute to me,” he called. He heard the sound of something rattling around in the rooms below, and then his flute quickly appeared. He didn’t play it; he merely let his fingers caress it thoughtfully as he tried to grasp what his immediate future held.
Grange lay upon the tower roof, and looked up at the sky, and thought about all that confused him, and all that frustrated him, and all that he wished he had. Most of all, he wished he had a wizard advisor, a friend, with him. He could tell that his ability to use the power was enhanced; it had grown significantly thanks to Acton’s gift. But he had little idea of ways to use it best. He suspected he needed to produce amulets, tools and weapons that he could use when the time of battle descended upon Southgar.
What he needed most was his wand to be fully functional. He wanted it to be a true wand, one that he could use and control and rely upon. He wished there was a way to reach out to Brieed, to speak to him and ask his master for advice about the use of the energy. Otherwise, Grange would have to experiment, slowly going through a trial and error method of discovering what tools were practical and would be at his disposal when needed. That seemed time-consuming, and unproductive.
Was there a way, he wondered, to skip such a laborious use of time? Could the energy itself provide a means of speaking to Brieed so that he could learn tried-and-true methods of exercising the power, and undoubtedly be taught things he would never conceive of on his own?
He could ask the energy, he supposed. Or, more likely to succeed, he could go to the temple and ask Acton if it was possible, and how to do it if so. It was worth the effort, he decided. Acton would be able to tell him if he could converse with Brieed – Acton might even act as his mentor instead of Brieed, making the task even easier.
There were streaks of red beginning to rise from the western sky. The sun was setting, and evening was approaching. That meant that he would soon have to go to dinner with Jenniline. But afterwards, once night had fallen, he would be able to go to the temple and speak to the god, he felt certain. And he might, if the visit went well, even tell Acton about the behavior of Hockis, as Grange knew him.
Of course, Hockis might already be telling Acton about Grange’s own unsavory past as a pickpocket, but Grange could justify his thefts, in his own mind. He had wanted to give money to his orphanage. Plus, he had been ready to stop the pilfering, and would have stopped, if Hockis hadn’t insisted on one more round of larceny, which had turned out to be a set up that had led to Grange’s ironic arrest, he recollected.
“Grange?” Jenniline’s voice called.
“Up here,” Grange replied, opening his eyes and sitting up, as he heard the sound of Jenniline’s shoes climbing the steps.
The steps were softer than they had been before, due to some change in the quality of the stones in the new stairs, Grange realized.
“Grange, is this your new home?” Jenniline asked from just behind him.
He turned and rose in one motion to face his designated counsel, then stopped in astonishment.
Her steps had sounded soft because she no longer wore the solid, dependable riding boots that Grange had seen her in; instead, she was wearing dainty shoes, virtually slippers.
Had he not heard the difference in her footsteps, he might not have noticed the shoes though, because the rest of her appearance had changed by an amount at least equally astonishing. She wore a sleek gown of light blue material, with silver trim, the heraldic colors of Magnus’s line. The clothing revealed how slender she was, other than a slight swelling in her muscular shoulders, and it removed the vaguely mannish appearance she had cultivated with her usual attire. The replacement was a figure that was more one of a youthful girl, one hovering on womanhood, without having reached maturity yet.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she commanded in a voice that was still just as domineering as it had ever been.
“You look so much younger,” Grange marveled. “And,” he paused, then decided not to offer any further description, sure that it would be a venture into dangerous waters.
“I know,” she bit off her answer. “That’s why I don’t dress this way often.”
“Why are you dressed that way now?” Grange asked.
“I thought
I needed to look more like a court person if I’m going to help you in the court,” she answered. “But every male I’ve passed in the past ten minutes has looked at me with the same expression you had thirty seconds ago.”
“Well, tonight, stay that way; it’s good to keep people off-guard,” Grange suggested.
“But after dinner, I’m going back to my usual style,” Jenniline said. “And there’s no room for discussion.”
“I wasn’t going to ask for any,” Grange smile. He turned and waved his arm in a wide circle. “Do you like the view?” he asked.
“It’s tremendous,” Jenniline said with more enthusiasm in her voice. “You turned rooms at the top of the tower from a burden to an asset,” she smiled.
“There’s my room down there,” she pointed at a building in the palace complex.
“Which one?” Grange asked.
“There, the one with the blue curtains. The curtains that are moving!” she said in alarm. “Why are my curtains moving? Someone’s in my room!” she grew agitated.
Her comments immediately triggered agitation on Grange as well – regret that he didn’t know how to use the power to prevent the invasion of Jenniline’s space. It was all the more reason to receive instruction on the use of his wand and energy.
“Let’s go see if we can stop them,” Grange insisted.
“By the time we go down, through the palace grounds, and then into my building, they’ll be gone,” she said angrily.
“But let’s go anyway,” she changed her mind.
“I’ll come back and admire your home some other time,” she promised, as she lifted her gown and ran freely down the stairs to the top floor of Grange’s tower apartment.
Minutes later they crossed a garden and entered the hall where Jenniline and several other members of the court lived. When the princess opened the door to her rooms, there was no one else present, but her belongings had clearly been rifled through, as someone had searched for something.
“What’s missing?” Grange asked, as Jenniline angrily lifted and dropped items, looking among her clothes and furniture.
The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) Page 12
