Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  By the Lady it seemed to be his day for visitors! But he couldn't turn the boy away as he knew he should. Not just because he was holding on to his expensive suit so tightly, but because the boy clearly needed help. Whatever help he needed though, Baen knew it was going to cost him somehow. But he couldn't turn him away. Some days, he knew, he was just too soft. It was only a question of whether it was in the head or the heart.

  “What's wrong lad?” Baen kept asking the boy that over and over again. But the lad had worked himself up into such a state that the answers that came out of his mouth were little more than gibberish. Eventually though the boy calmed enough to make some sense.

  “You got magic. I got magic,” the boy blurted out in broken Darish. The sort of poorly spoken language used by street urchins – which was what he was. The only thing missing from the explanation was the use of the word “gov” which was half of everything the guttersnipes said. It was always “gov this” or “gov that.”

  “Alright, you have a gift. What's so bad about that?” Though lately the answer to that question would have been – “everything” – which was why his blood chilled a little.

  “I didn't mean to!”

  “You didn't mean to what?” Baen tried again, dread suddenly filling him.

  “It was an accident!” The boy blubbed.

  “I'm sure it was.” Baen got down on one knee in front of him, grabbed his shoulders and looked the boy straight in the eyes. He even resisted the temptation to check and see if his coin purse was still there. “But I can't help you if you don't tell me what you did.”

  “I burnt him – but I don't mean to!”

  “Burnt him?” Baen’s throat caught. That didn't sound good. And when he looked down and saw the boy’s fingers had been blackened he knew it wasn't. He'd cast some sort of fire spell, and obviously he'd done it directly without the aid of a medium. “Tell me the rest.”

  With that and a little encouragement every now and then, he managed to get the rest of the story out of the boy. It was a sorry tale of desperation and minor larceny much as he'd expected.

  The boy – Karl as he finally told him – was homeless much as Baen had guessed. But unlike the rest of the guttersnipes who begged, stole or did chores to earn some food to eat and a place to sleep, he entertained. Of course the entertainment was part of a larger swindle. Karl entertained the crowd, playing with fire and getting coins thrown at him. And while he did that his friends worked their way through the pockets of his audience, lifting coin purses and jewellery.

  It was a common enough confidence trick. But this time something had gone wrong. One of the audience members being robbed, had noticed what was happening. But instead of going after the one picking his pockets, he had gone after Karl. Grabbing him and shaking him hard. Karl had reacted the only way he could, releasing his fire and burning the man. After that the city guards had started chasing him. They were going to hang him!

  Naturally it was then that the doorbell rang again and a trio of guards marched in. Big, burly men with weapons in their hands and mean looks in their eyes. The sort of men who had thick callouses on their fists and for good reason. Baen knew instantly that they wouldn't hesitate to use them on the boy. And they'd probably think it was what he deserved.

  “Hold please.” Baen stood up and raised his hand as he tried to sound commanding while the boy seemed to shrink in front of them. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  “The boy! He comes with us!” The leader of the trio told him bluntly. “Witch!”

  “For what? Because one man got a little burnt when he touched a fire stick?” Baen ignored the accusation and did his best to minimise the seriousness of the incident – not that he knew how serious it was. But he knew how serious things would become for the boy shortly if he didn't do something. “Was the man badly hurt?”

  He walked over to the counter knowing that that was where the real magic in the realm lay. But he made sure to push the boy into Aribeth's arms first and she quickly had him clutched tightly.

  “Just some burns. He'll need to see the physicians,” the leader told him suspiciously. “What of it?! The boy used magic!”

  “I see.” Baen opened the register, and pulled out a few silver coins. Then he laid them out on the counter one by one, watching as the guard's eyes suddenly focused on them. “So a clumsy man burnt himself a little and then told you a story about magic to cover up his own mistakes?”.

  “Ahh?” The leader of the three answered him, clearly thinking the matter over as he realised what was happening. Guards didn't get paid a lot and a silver coin each would be appreciated. But apparently he was a man who wanted to appreciate a bit more. “I don't know.”

  “But I'm sure you do know. Wouldn't you say that really, the man wasted your time. Made you run all over town after a boy who didn't exist?” He laid three more silver coins down on the counter, one by one.

  “Didn't exist?” The man replied, his eyes fixed firmly on the silver. “Maybe. But I'm still not sure.”

  Baen let out a heavy sigh and laid out three more coins. This was turning out to be a very expensive day. “And now?”

  “I never saw a boy. And you’re right. The man looked clumsy. He probably fell over his own feet.”

  “Good.” Baen replied. “And you two?” He stared at the other two guards and watched them nod hurriedly back. It was a lot of silver.

  “Well then, I think you should be on your way and report this to your Captain.” He gestured at them to grab their coins and go. Naturally they didn't waste any time doing that, and left the store even more quickly than they'd entered.

  Bain let out a heavy breath. He hadn't truly known if it would work. Not all guards could be bribed. It was good that these ones could be, he thought. And he knew they would stay bribed for a while – because they would never admit to receiving a bribe or risk losing their silver. Still, it didn't really solve any problems for anyone. Not even for the boy. Not for long.

  “Thank you Gov!” Karl cried out the moment after the door had shut behind the guards. “Thank you, thank you!” He started crying with relief.

  But it was too soon for that, Baen knew.

  “Karl, I'm sorry, but the guards aren't done with you. They know your face and they know you have fire and work in the markets. Their memories of the silver they've just received will likely fade quickly. Probably even before they've finished spending it. You can't stay in the city. If you do, you'll be put in the work gangs within days and hanging from a rope soon after.” Baen wished that that wasn't true, but he knew it was. With the way things were going lately, even children would be hung if they had magic.

  “You have to leave the city. Now.” He turned around to look down the passage way behind him to where he knew the Protector would be listening. “Nyri?”

  “I heard.” She appeared suddenly, stepping out of the wall.

  “Good. He can't stay. So it seems you have a new favoured soul,” he told her. “Can you take him to the Mission and keep him out of sight? And then perhaps on to G'lorenvale?”

  “I can.” She walked over to Aribeth and took the boy's hand from her. “We will bring him to safety.”

  “But –.” The boy looked as if he was about to start crying.

  “I'm sorry Karl. I know you have friends here. And this is the only place you know. But it's over. You have a gift and people know that now. There's an Inquisitor in town and he'll soon be on your trail. If you stay in the city you'll die. Those guards or others like them will hunt you down. They'll bring you up before the Magistrate. He'll convict you of using your magic to hurt someone. It's a capital crime. And then they'll put a rope around your neck.”

  “They're going to kill you. It's as simple as that.” How old was the boy, he wondered? Ten? How could he say such a thing to a ten year old child? It was wrong! But he had to. Age counted for nothing. They would hang him. And that was worse.

  “But Nyri here will bring you to a new city,” he contin
ued. “A place where you can sleep in a comfortable bed, get some good food to eat, meet new friends, and learn how to use your gift properly.” But even as he said it Baen could see the look in the boy's eyes. He didn't want to go. And who could blame him?

  “You should know Protector, he is going to try and run.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “But he won't run.”

  Baen wondered what exactly she meant by that. That he wouldn't try to run, or that if he did he wouldn't get away? But it didn't matter. What mattered was that the boy got to safety. And safety no longer resided in Grenland. Not for them.

  “Good.”

  He watched as Nyri led young Karl out of the store, while the boy kept looking around nervously. He didn't want to go with her, that much was clear. But what other choice did he have? What choice in the end did any of them have?

  “That was …” Aribeth searched for a word and couldn't find it.

  “I know.” Baen shook his head sorrowfully. “It's been happening. Everywhere.” But at least she'd stopped crying.

  “They wouldn't have hung that boy!” Aribeth looked shocked. “They wouldn't! He's just a boy! It was an accident!”

  “Of course they would have!” He told her gently. “He used magic against a man contrary to the King's decree. That's a capital offence. Age doesn't come into it. Not any more.”

  Nothing came into it. How could the world have turned so quickly into this nightmare, he asked himself for what must be the thousandth time?

  Aribeth stood there, appalled by what she had just seen and what he had told her. And Baen knew there was more he had to tell her. He had tried to explain it to the rest of the family, but they hadn't listened. Because Grenland just wasn't like that! The family were lucky. They were sheltered from the worst of what happened in the world by their wealth. They never saw the truly bad things that happened. But maybe she would believe him, now that she had seen what was happening in the world for herself.

  “You know that we have to get Grandpapa and Aunt Millie out.”

  “They're safe. Father's got Grandpapa in the family house, and he can't leave no matter how much he complains. And Aunt Millie's hidden away in her private jungle. No one can get in or out. No one's even seen her.”

  “No,” he corrected her. “They're safe enough for now. But this is only going to get worse. The King's started a panic – I don't know why – and soon we'll have people being lynched in the streets. There won't even be trials after a while. And it won't just be those with gifts. It'll be anyone who's suspected of having magic. That'll include the mad. People can't tell the difference. We've got Aunt Martha riding through the city stark naked, Great Uncle Mortimer talking to himself as he wanders around and Grandfather Oliver seeing assassins around every corner. They need to get to safety too.”

  “In the Hallows?”

  “No. I don't think the Fae will take them. They're running a private network of caravans getting those with gifts out of the towns and cities. But they've got their hands full just finding gifted people and convincing them to leave. I don't think they can take anymore.” He also suspected they wouldn't want those without magic. G'lorenvale was a land of wonders. But it was for the wonderful, not the mundane. Not even the crazy.

  “You need to find somewhere quiet, far away from the cities, where they can be cared for and hidden away. A private country estate. Somewhere the rest of us can flee to in time if it becomes necessary.” Though really he suspected, it wasn't an “if” it was a “when”.

  “Father won't like that. Business is bad and growing worse. Contracts are being broken. Alliances forgotten. And the King's tax men are everywhere.”

  Of course they were. And again Baen knew it was his fault. He had become known as one of the gifted. Even worse, as a powerful wizard. Now everyone was paying for that mistake. Fortunately he had an answer for that at least. And it was time someone in his family knew the truth about him.

  “Come on. I'll show you just how stupid Edders was in running away from our family.” He locked the front door with a flick of his fingers – there weren't going to be any customers anyway – and then led her to the stairs down to his basement.

  Aribeth gasped when she walked through the wall – she'd never guessed it was an illusion – and then again when she saw his workshop at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You've been keeping secrets!” She accused him.

  “A few,” he admitted. “But nobody ever asked what I had down here!”

  “Nobody ever knew there was a down here!” She retorted.

  But then she forgot about that and let out her biggest gasp yet when he pulled open a drawer in his desk and she could see it was filled to the brim with gold coins.

  “Baen!” She began. But then she stopped, not knowing what to say.

  “I bought what was a supposedly spent goldmine some years ago. And then had my workers start mining it again.” He didn't explain that his workers were actually spells that caused the gold in the mountain to liquefy and slowly ooze its way out of the rock and form puddles on the mine floor. She had enough to take in. “Every few months I've been heading out to it and bringing back the gold and minting it into coins. There should be enough to buy a good-sized estate.” He started scooping out coins with his hands and pouring them into her bag while she stared, wide eyed.

  “But … you sell books!” She finally told him.

  “And I like selling books. But I don't do it to make coin. Haven’t needed to for some time, truthfully.” And lately he hadn't been selling a lot anyway.

  He stopped scooping coins into her bag when he judged it was full enough and probably becoming a little too heavy for her to carry easily. That would be more than the family needed. And there was more than enough left to pay for the workmen to carry out the renovations he'd been considering – making the two buildings he owned into one. If he didn't have a tenant, what was the point in keeping the building empty? And this seemed like the perfect time. Before things got really bad.

  “Madness and magic! Isn't that what you keep claiming our family's riddled with? Did it ever occur to you that you might be talking about yourself?!” Her eyes were constantly darting around from the gold to the rest of his workshop. And especially to his staff floating on its plinth in the middle of the room.

  “Sometimes. But there were always reasons for what I did.” Though possibly in this case they weren't so much reasons, he realised, as a lack of interest in telling anyone about his secret life. He simply hadn't wanted to be laughed at. By the Lady how things had changed since then! He would have given a lot to be back in those days when the only thing he'd had to fear had been a little mockery. Now he had to avoid being hung!

  “So, are there any more little secrets you've been hiding?”

  “A few.” He admitted. “Probably. But I'm sure they're not important.” Actually he wasn't. He simply couldn't think of anything else he needed to tell her that she didn't already know. “You do know I bought a wheeler?”

  “Of course! The whole damned city knows that! Father's been getting complaints! And I saw you ride it back here a few weeks ago!”

  “Oh! Right!” He'd forgotten about that! But that seemed so long ago. A lifetime in the past. “And you know I rode it to the Hallows where I fought the Duke's brigands?”

  “Oh! The gods be praised!” Aribeth's face fell a little more. “That explains why the Fae seem to be so interested in you, I suppose!” She groaned a little too loudly.

  “Well that and the fact that I'm helping them get the gifted to safety in the Hallows!”

  This time her groan was louder and she all but buried her head in her hands. “It's not just that boy? Is it?” She accused him. “He knew about you! You're actively going against the King?”

  “I'm not opposing him,” he told her, though really he knew he was. “Just protecting those like Grandpapa and Aunt Millie from the mobs before King Richmond's new decrees will get them lynched.”

  “The Magistra
te will have you hung!”

  “He might well try,” Baen answered her. But I don't think anyone has any idea just how well I can protect myself.” And that, he hoped, was the truth. Because he wasn't going to run. Not yet anyway. This was his home!

  Aribeth's answer was silence as she weighed up what he was saying and no doubt found his explanation wanting. Because if King Richmond's Inquisitors found out what he was doing, he would swiftly be labelled a traitor of some sort. And the danger in that was that they might include the rest of the family. But Baen didn’t feel like he had any choice anymore. Now it was time the rest of the family knew what he was doing.

  “Come on.” He patted her on the shoulder and then pushed her gently back towards the stairs. “I'll buy you a cup of tea and tell you all about the months I spent in G'lorenvale. And you can ask all the questions you want to. And maybe you can explain to Father that he needs to buy a new estate large enough for the entire family – preferably close to the border with G'lorenvale! If not right on it!”