Council of War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Zynor frowned again. He probed deep within his own mind, but his memories were a veritable jungle of plants and animals. He subconsciously raised his arm and pointed at the ceiling. With a snap of his fingers a mage light appeared suspended in the air above him. It showered light all over the inside of the cabin, and Zynor walked to the stacks of books. He moved the closest stacks away and bent down next to the stack all the way in the corner. He effortlessly lifted the tall stack with one hand and pulled out a small book with the other hand. He placed the stack back on the floor and stood up.

  The book he held in his ancient hands was a children's book and seeing it again brought a smile to his lips. His eyes glowed with the flare of youth as he paged through the book. With a wide smile he placed the small book on the top of the stack.

  "What is knowledge for?" Zynor asked.

  "To make the world a better place," smiled Fakir Aziz. "Come, we have days of travel ahead of us before the next stop."

  "How long will I be gone?" asked Zynor.

  "For most men the time would be long," answered Fakir. "For an ancient it might seem short, but it might also be forever. Do not worry needlessly. Your dogs will survive as dogs do. I have some interesting insights regarding dogs that you might be interested in hearing. We can talk about it on the way."

  Chapter 32

  Kalmar

  Garth and Kalina bade farewell to King Persimon, King Myer, Queen Romani, and Sidney. The Tyronian merchant offered to see them down to the stables for a brief moment of private conversation before the Alceans departed Traginak.

  "I am once again sad to part company with you," Sidney smiled wistfully. "Have you had any word from Clint? Edmond was supposed to be taking the ferry to Tyronia when we fled the country. I am worried about him."

  "Peanut arrived this morning," replied Garth. "Edmond arrived safely."

  "It was not the boat journey that I was worried about. How are things in Ur?"

  "As to be expected," answered Garth. "The Tyronian army has been disbanded, and the Federation is accepting recruits. Food rationing has been instituted and those without a family member in the army will receive little in the way of food. Most of the Tyronian soldiers are enlisting in the Federation army, but their hearts aren't in it. They are doing so to feed their families. So far the merchants have not been harassed. I suspect the Federation will leave them alone as they need the trade avenues to remain open to transport their booty back to the empire."

  "They could just seize the wagons and do it themselves," posed Sidney.

  Garth chuckled. "Who would you be more likely to trust with food deliveries, merchants who respect the safety of their cargo, or starving soldiers forced into service?"

  "Good point," conceded Sidney. "Does this mean that Edmond and my men will be spared the wrath of the Federation?"

  "Most likely," nodded Garth. "In fact, I understand Edmond was contacted to caravan a large food delivery to Giza. Clint asked him to use every available wagon for the caravan so as to create a shortage of wagons in Ur. He thought it might slow down the depletion of the food supply."

  "Clever," smiled Sidney. "It is helpful to have Clint in a position to help the Tyronians, even if he has to do so covertly. How can I help you with the task set out for you by Baron Stikman?"

  "I am not sure that you can directly," Garth frowned in thought. "I still intend to visit Valdo and Despair posing as your Special Agent, but I cannot think of anything you can do that you have not already done."

  Sidney pulled a small pouch from his belt and handed it to Garth. The Knight of Alcea opened the pouch and whistled softly when he saw the two large diamonds inside.

  "These are worth a fortune. Why would you part with them?"

  "They were to secure an estate here in the horse countries," smiled Sidney. "King Wendal has extended an offer for King Myer, Queen Romani, and me to live in Herinak Castle. I will have no need for an estate until this business with the Federation is resolved and then I will be returning to Ur. I think you might make better use of the funds."

  "I am honored by your faith in me," Garth said with sincerity. "I will use them wisely."

  "Where will you go now?" asked Sidney.

  "We will ride east today, but tonight we head south over the Sands of Eternity. It is time to raise some armies for the Council of War."

  "Farewell Sidney," Kalina said as she sensed the conversation coming to an end. "May we meet again under sunnier skies."

  Sidney embraced Kalina and then the Knights of Alcea mounted their unicorns and rode through the castle gates into the courtyard. Ted, Natia, Karl, Max, and Shawn were waiting for them in the courtyard.

  "Runt arrived back from Alcea," Tedi said softly to Garth.

  "We will talk once the city is behind us," Garth replied. "Let's ride."

  The Alceans rode proudly through the city streets of Traginak. While no one threw flowers in their path, many of the citizens waved or nodded in respect. The guards at the city gates opened the gates when they approached, and the Alceans left Traginak with warm feelings for the Zaroccans they were leaving behind. They rode eastward for over an hour before Garth called a halt in a small stand of trees alongside the road.

  "What did Runt have to say?" Garth asked immediately upon dismounting.

  "Runt managed to get to Alcea before the ship," answered Tedi. "King Arik was setting up to track the deployment of the Doors."

  "Track them?" asked Kalina. "Is he aware of the danger of leaving those Doors intact?"

  "He is," nodded Tedi. "They are hoping that by letting the Doors be deployed, they will be able to determine where the others are."

  "The others?" asked Garth.

  "The Doors were numbered," reported Tedi. "The three Doors on that ship were numbered sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen."

  "Why would they number the Doors?" balked Kalina. "That seems so unnecessary."

  "Unless they have a large number of them," frowned Garth, "and it appears that they do. When it comes time to attack, they want to be sure that they know where they are going. They cannot afford to get confused about where the troops will emerge. The numbering makes perfect sense to me. Everything the Federation has done so far speaks of excellent organizational skills. I suspect somewhere in the bowels of Despair is a map of Alcea with little numbers on it. Those numbers will indicate the locations of the Doors."

  "How are things going back there?" asked Kalina.

  "Runt reports that the Bringer is doing well," replied Tedi. "Arik and Tanya had just broken up a ring of Snakes in Trekum. There is also a plan for fairies to start traveling between Alcea and Zara using the Zaran ships part of the way. Runt told them to report to Squirt on the Isle of Despair. That was the only location that he could think of that was sure to have a fairy present."

  "Runt has done well," smiled Garth. "Where is he?"

  "Fast asleep in Karl's pocket," answered Tedi. "He searched all over for us. He did not expect to find us up here in Zarocca."

  "Then I will assign Peanut permanently to Clint," nodded Garth. "Is that all right with you, Karl?"

  "Of course," nodded Karl Gree. "Peanut will do fine in a covert mission."

  * * *

  Kalmar was still a young man, but he was already one of the most prosperous citizens of Herinak. The Koroccan was widely known as The Healer, and his potions and elixirs were sold to the most prominent people in the horse countries. Customers sent their servants from hundreds of leagues away merely to purchase what Kalmar sold. The king of Korocca invited him to balls, and the most important people in the city liked to boast that he was a personal acquaintance. To say that fame had gone to Kalmar's head was an understatement. The prices for his potions rose every few months merely because his fame allowed him to command any price he charged.

  In addition to potions and elixirs, Kalmar was also adept in the healing arts, but he seldom practiced them any more. He abhorred traveling to the homes of the patients and considered it a waste of his valuable ti
me. He would still treat a wealthy client if the person would travel to his laboratory, but those few souls willing to pay his exorbitant prices were often too ill to make the journey. That suited Kalmar just fine as he was moving away from the healing arts and becoming an investor. He had so much gold from his business that he was purchasing buildings by the block. He was a shrewd investor having learned at an early age the benefits of leveraging. Many of his buildings were purchased with contracts that required only a small deposit to secure the holdings and then the renters made all of the remaining payments. Kalmar estimated that he would own half of Herinak by the time he reached his father's age.

  Kalmar's Laboratory and Potion Shop was located on the main street of Herinak, right across the plaza from the gates to Herinak Castle. The shop occupied the ground floor, and it was an extravagant showcase of colorful bottles. In the basement of the building was Kalmar's laboratory, and it was packed with a wide array of instruments and ingredients. It was there that Kalmar made his incredible cures for the showcase above. The three floors above the showcase used to be apartments, but Kalmar had converted all three floors into his home, and he had lavished it with exotic furniture and fine paintings.

  Outside his showcase passersby often stopped and marveled at the colorful displays he created near the door. Sometimes others stopped and only stared in wonder at potions they could only wish to afford. And once in a while, a stranger to the city might not understand the cost of a healing potion. That person might wander in and inquire about a cure for a particular ailment. On this particular day, that is exactly what happened. Two old men sat in the plaza feeding the squirrels. One of them looked around the plaza with an enquiring eye, but the other grimaced as he called a squirrel to come and get his treat.

  "Haven't you suffered enough?" asked Fakir Aziz.

  "I will be fine," groused Zynor. "I just haven't ridden in a very long time."

  "I do not understand you," retorted Fakir. "You are not an obstinate man. Why don't you heal yourself?"

  "Why do you keep asking me to?" countered Zynor.

  "Because it is what you should do," replied Fakir. "Have you forgotten how?"

  Zynor didn't answer, and Fakir smiled inwardly. A few minutes passed until Zynor groaned once again. He turned to glance at Fakir and saw the old man staring at him with a smile on his face.

  "Alright," snapped Zynor, "I have forgotten how. I can't even remember the last time I felt so sore. Why don't you heal me?"

  "I could," admitted Fakir as he nodded towards Kalmar's shop, "but I think there is another option. There is a potion shop right over there. Why don't you go get a potion, and I will refresh your mind on the healing arts later while we travel."

  "Travel to where I wonder," groused Zynor as he painfully rose from the bench.

  "Who can tell?" Fakir replied cryptically as he rose to accompany his companion.

  The two men walked across the plaza and entered Kalmar's Laboratory and Potion Shop. Fakir stopped and admired the colorful display of bottles while Zynor pulled a rope to summon the proprietor. A moment later Kalmar stepped into the room from behind a curtain. The Koroccan's eyes narrowed as he gazed upon the two old men. The smell of the closest man caused Kalmar to crinkle his nose in disgust.

  "What can I do for you?" Kalmar asked.

  "I fear I have ridden too long for the welfare of this aged body," replied Zynor. "Have you a potion that will ease the pain?"

  "Certainly," Kalmar replied. "It costs three hundred in gold."

  "I don't have any gold," frowned Zynor. "I just want a simple soothing potion, not to buy your store. Perhaps I could do something for you in exchange for the potion?"

  "I don't think so," Kalmar replied with disdain. "Your very presence in this shop would lose me customers. Be gone."

  "I thought you were a healer," Fakir Aziz said as he turned to face the shopkeeper.

  "I am the finest healer in the horse countries," Kalmar replied proudly.

  "Healers have an obligation to care for their fellow man," declared Fakir. "Yet you are turning this man away."

  "I do care for my fellow man," retorted Kalmar, "and they pay me very well for it. Now if you two will move along, I have work to do."

  "You were given a gift," Fakir said sternly. "That gift was given with an expectation of its proper use. Heal this man."

  "No one gave me anything," scowled Kalmar. "Everything I own I have earned for myself. Now get out of my shop before I call the soldiers to have you thrown out."

  Zynor shook his head and frowned in disgust, but he hobbled out of the shop. Fakir paused in the doorway and stared at Kalmar.

  "May your sales be splendid this day," Fakir said before turning and stepping out the shop.

  Kalmar stared at Fakir as he left and shook his head. He mumbled something under his breath about crazy old men and went back to work. A few minutes later the bell rang again. Kalmar returned to the showcase. He found six soldiers waiting for him, and he briefly wondered if the two old men had complained to the authorities. He shrugged with the knowledge that the king would not lift a hand against him even if his sales were illegal, which they weren't. He was too famous for the king to make a spectacle of him.

  "One of our patrols encountered a swarm of angry bees," stated one of the soldiers. "We need forty bottles of a cure for the swelling. You can add the cost to the Baron Stikman's bill."

  "Certainly," smiled Kalmar. "Let me get you something to carry them in."

  He went behind the curtain and filled a pack with the bottles and hastily drew up a bill for the soldier to sign. When he walked back through the curtain to deliver the pack, there was a line of customers stretching out the door. Kalmar's eyes grew wide with excitement. For two straight hours The Healer sold potions and elixirs as he never had before. Before the sun had set, his shelves were bare, and he had to turn away the rest of the customers. As he closed the door to the shop and hung out a sign telling customers to come back tomorrow, he saw the two old men sitting on a bench in the plaza. He chuckled inwardly about his superiority over the common man and hurried down to his laboratory to make up more potions.

  It was less than an hour later when Kalmar knew that something was amiss. None of the ingredients would mix properly, and none of his spells worked. He dumped the batches and mixtures into the garbage and began again, but there was no improvement. He grew increasingly anxious and tense as spell after spell failed. As he struggled through the night to replenish the empty shelves upstairs, his temper grew beyond his limits to control it. He started throwing glass beakers against the wall and shoving delicate measuring instruments onto the floor. In a few moments of uncontrolled fury, his laboratory was destroyed. So tired and distraught that he refused to walk up the stairs to his plush home, Kalmar curled up in a ball on the floor of the laboratory and fell asleep.

  There were no windows in the laboratory, so Kalmar was unsure of the time, but the distant shouting and banging woke him up. He slowly rose to his feet and gazed down at his clothes. They were wrinkled and stained, and he smelled much too much like some of the vile components he used for the potions. He groggily climbed the stairs intending to go up to his home to freshen up, but as he reached the ground floor, he heard a loud crash followed by shouting. He peeked his head through the curtains to see what the noise was, and someone grabbed him and pulled him into the showcase.

  "Here he is!" shouted the man who grabbed him. "We want our money back, you fraud."

  Kalmar stared in horror at the mob of people crowding into his shop. He recognized many of the faces as belonging to customers who purchased the day before.

  "Your potions did nothing," scowled a woman. "I want my gold."

  Kalmar shouted for soldiers to come and rescue him, and sighed with relief as six of them pushed their way through the crowd.

  "Get these people out of my shop," Kalmar demanded. "They are threatening me."

  "With good cause," scowled the soldier. "Those potions you sold us yester
day only made the swelling worse. I should let these fine people drag you outside and have their way with you."

  Kalmar's eyes grew wide with fear as he gazed at all the angry faces. He reached under his tunic and produced a hefty pouch of gold. He handed it to the soldier.

  "This is all the gold I made yesterday," he said. "Pay each of them back. I do not know what went wrong with the potions. I have to make more. Get them out of here, please."

  The soldier hefted the pouch to measure its worth and eventually he nodded. "Everyone outside," he shouted. "I will be handing out refunds for your purchases. Outside please."

  The angry mob moved out of the shop and Kalmar gazed at the destruction left behind. The door was shattered and shelves were pulled off the walls. He leaned against the wall and sighed in despair.

  "Ah, there you are," said the banker. "I stopped by earlier, but your shop was closed. What happened here?"

  "I am not sure," lied Kalmar. "I can't help you today. My potions are all sold out."

  "Business must be good," stated the banker. "I am glad for that because your investments are not doing so well."

  "What do you mean?" Kalmar asked with alarm.

  "The king has condemned several of your buildings," explained the banker. "It seems that they are infested with rats. The tenants all fled during the night. As those rents are used to pay for your other buildings, I have come to secure another method of payment."

  "I can't deal with that today," Kalmar said. "I need more time."

  "The contracts are quite clear about this," insisted the banker. "All of the payments must be certified. You have lost fifty tenants. You must make up the difference immediately, or you will lose the rest of your buildings. You have until sunset to comply."

  The banker turned and left. Kalmar stood for several minutes, his mind racing for a way out of his predicament. Eventually, he made up his mind to appeal to the king. He raced out of the shop and across the plaza to the Herinak Castle gates. He announced that he wanted to see the king, but he was told the king was too busy to see him today. He asked for Baron Stikman and received the same reply. Reeling in confusion, he ran through the city knocking on the doors of his wealthy clients. None of them would see him. Seething about the way the city had turned on him, he returned home to bathe and change his clothes. When he climbed the stairs to his home, he found the door was open.