“How did you know that?” I asked.
“You weren’t drinking, and I found two strange books in the reading desk. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were in league with dark gods; the stuff in one of those books looked suspicious,” she explained. “Now stop dissembling and tell me what you’ve been whispering about with Marc and Dorian.”
Remind me never to underestimate women.
“I doubt you’d believe it. Maybe it would be better if I showed you,” I replied. “Go close the curtains; this will be easier to see if it’s darker.” To her credit she didn’t ask any questions, although she did look at me oddly as she pulled the drapes shut. “Come sit on the bed with me, this will take a moment.”
“I saw that earlier if that’s what you want to show me,” she said sarcastically.
“Just hush for a second, and let me concentrate.” I had read through the first few days of Vestrius’ apprenticeship last night, and although I hadn’t studied the Lycian vocabulary yet, his journal included the first few words he had learned, and their application. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my mind. I held up my hand and cupped my palm. “Lyet” I vocalized and focused on the empty air in my hand. A warm glow formed there, dim but visible, rather disappointing. “Lyet!” I said again, putting more force into it. The light flared, becoming a brilliant incandescent ball too bright to look at. I closed my eyes, but the glare was strong enough to show through my eyelids. Penny’s response was more interesting.
“Shit!” She leapt backwards across the bed and fell over onto the floor on the other side. That made twice she’d landed on her backside in less than an hour. I left the ball of light hovering there in the air and moved to help her up. Truth be told, I hadn’t figured out how to move it yet, I’d had enough trouble working out how to turn it off last night when I tried it the first time.
Everything looked bizarre in the harsh white light. It cast shadows that made her face seem strange. The worst part was the fear I saw in her eyes. I could only imagine what I must look like in the glare. “Now you see why I had such trouble telling you?” I tried to smile, and put a familiar face on to reassure her, but that only made it worse. She was backing away, edging toward the door.
“Wait Penny, this isn’t as bad as you think. Here, let me put out this light, and then I’ll try to explain better.” I gestured at the light, “Haseth” The light went out abruptly, plunging the room into relative darkness since our eyes were still accustomed to the glare.
I heard her give out a yelp, and then there was a loud thump. That would be the divan I’ll wager. There was a loud knock, and the door flew open.
Marc stomped into the room, “Alright you slugabed, it’s high time you got up! If you sleep any longer… huh?” Penny ducked past him and ran from the room. My eyes were finally adjusting to the dimmer light, and I could see Marc staring at me from the doorway. I’ll be the first to admit things didn’t look good. The bed was a complete mess, with blankets still on the floor. The divan had flipped over onto its side. I knew it was the divan, I thought to myself.
“Was that Penny?” he asked turning in a circle.
Oh damn! I knew it had to be her he was talking about last night, and this looks bad. My thoughts were racing, “It isn’t what it appears.”
“And what would that be? That you’re chasing the staff around your bedroom with the curtains drawn in the middle of the day?” He seemed a bit miffed but not nearly as much as I would have been if I thought someone was poaching my game. “Listen Mort, I know we’ve both known Penny a long time, but she’s been through a lot recently. You shouldn’t give her a hard time. I meant to tell you this earlier, but she lost her Ma not long back and since then…”
Obviously I was destined to travel from one misunderstanding to the next in this life. “No, no, no! I was explaining my situation and it upset her.” It took almost ten minutes to describe what had happened. It would have been quicker, but Marc has a bad habit of interrupting.
“So you came straight back here and immediately ignored our promise to wait?” He was shaking his head.
“That pretty well sums it up,” I said this with my most charming smile.
“You understand I had to tell my father that we were up drinking late last night, and you passed out from an excess of wine?” he replied, pointedly ignoring my overwhelming charisma.
That took the wind out of my sails, “He probably thinks I’m a drunkard now, eh?”
“I doubt that Mort, but he certainly thinks you can’t handle your wine,” he gave me an evil grin. “Come on, I told Father I’d fetch you before our noble guests start arriving.” Since I was already dressed we headed for the door, but I did pause to set the divan back on its legs.
As we left he turned to me, “And if I ever find you chasing Penny around your chambers again, I’ll toss you out on your ass. The other maids I might forgive, but Penny is special.”
“Dammit! I told you that’s not what happened!”
Marc winked at me, “I know. It’s just fun to see you get flustered. You know, now that I think on it… if it had been some other maid, I don’t think the misunderstanding would have bothered you nearly as much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” I snapped back.
“Nothing, my friend, nothing at all.” He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked down the hall. Well he tried; I’m still taller, so he had to settle for thumping me between the shoulders.
Chapter V
RARELY, SOME ARE BORN WITH a moderate to high emittance but with a low capacitance. This trait occurs with no more frequency than one in a hundred. Those born with it usually do not become aware of it until puberty, when their bodies begin to mature, although occasionally it becomes active even earlier. The primary trait found in those with a high emittance is known to the common folk as ‘the sight’. This refers to their ability to sense and see things of a purely magical nature. They sometimes manifest precognitive abilities or other forms of prescience and clairvoyance. Most become mystics, soothsayers, and fortune tellers. Some enter the clergy or priesthoods of various religions as their ability allows them to channel the powers of their gods. Thus are born the legends of ‘saints’. Such would likely have been my own destiny if fate and my own intellectual curiosity had not interfered.
~Marcus the Heretic,
On the Nature of Faith and Magic
My audience with the Duke had gone much as I’d expected. He made light of my late sleeping, passing it off as the ‘excess of youth’, but I was still sure I had disappointed him. In any case, he made sure that I was aware that he and the Duchess both were colluding in misrepresenting my social status. As Marc had said earlier, I was to represent myself as a traveling scholar and avoid questions regarding my exact place in society; they for their part would divert questions by remarking that I was a distant cousin of some sort.
Looking back, I cannot help but wonder at their nonchalance at deceiving so many people as to my social standing. It seems incredible from the standpoint of a lowly blacksmith’s son, but when I consider it from their lofty station, it makes a bit more sense. It quite literally was no big deal to them; the Lancasters were second in rank only to the royal family itself. Who would gainsay them? Who would bother to question the rank of an unknown scholar? And if the truth should out, what of it? They could pass it off as a minor joke, and the worst consequence might be some ruffled feathers. For my part, it scared the living shit out of me, and I felt as if I had my neck on the executioners block.
I took a free moment that afternoon to continue reading and do some experimentation. One of the more interesting things Vestrius had learned early in his apprenticeship was a spell to put others into a magical slumber. Apparently it was a simple feat and one taught early because of its general usefulness. It could be used defensively against men and beasts or to escape from delicate situations. It also had the advantage of plausible deniability, assuming that all the witnesses were included in the effect. G
rummond made a point of telling Vestrius that it would have no effect on stoics, but I had yet to find out what that meant.
I set out to find a suitable target for experimentation. I initially considered Marcus or Dorian, but I put that idea aside. I was still uncertain of my abilities, and I didn’t want to risk putting them into some sort of permanent coma. I settled for sitting at the window and attempting to put birds to sleep. My first target was a blackbird that was kind enough to land on the windowsill.
I focused my will and looked at the bird, “Shibal.” It collapsed as though someone had struck it with a well-aimed stone. I watched it for several minutes to see if it would awaken. It didn’t. The spell was supposed to last a while, depending upon how much power the caster put into it, but I had no idea if the size of the creature was a factor. I tried waking the bird with loud noises, but it remained stubbornly asleep. I was pretty sure that was not normally the case with sleeping birds. Finally I picked it up and made sure it was still breathing. It seemed to be fine, with the exception of being a very sound sleeper. I tried shaking it a bit and then I poked it with my finger.
“Ow! Shit!” the bird had wakened and promptly bitten my finger. It flew around the room for several minutes while I chased it, trying to herd it toward the open window. Eventually it found the exit, and I sat down to consider what I had learned. I definitely wouldn’t be bringing more birds into the room; my finger was still throbbing painfully.
I decided to try again, this time on something further away. I spotted a hawk circling overhead. “Shibal.” The bird faltered for a moment but quickly recovered. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the distance or whether it was more difficult to put it to sleep because it was flying. I drew myself inward mentally and focused my intention on the bird, “Shibal!” The hawk dropped from the sky like a stone. I felt more than heard the hard ‘whump’ as it hit the stone courtyard. Bollocks! I killed it. I quickly drew back from the window, lest someone see me and make the connection. The story of the burning of the college in Albamarl had left an impression on me.
A knock sounded on my door, and I started. Surely no one could have seen the hawk and gotten up here already? I opened it and found Dorian standing there.
“You need to come down in a few minutes, Mort. The first of the guests are here, and Marc wants you there to greet them with him.” He glanced around the room. The bed was still in disarray, and the pillows were scattered. “Looks like you’ve been making friends with the cleaning staff already.”
I wondered for a moment if he had been talking to Marc. “Dorian you trust me, right?” I tugged him into the room and shut the door.
“Well sure. You remember that time you and Marc dragged me out to old man Wilkin’s farm to help you steal pumpkins?” He had an endearing habit of repeating our childhood stories every time he got the chance, or an annoying habit, depending on the circumstances.
“Yeah, yeah, here come sit down for a second.” I hustled him over to the divan.
“You and Marc told me you were gonna use the pumpkins to scare the crap out of…” he started to continue the story. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but I had heard it a dozen times already, and I had other things on my mind.
“Shibal,” I intoned seriously. Nothing happened.
“…Sir Kelton while he was standing watch that night,” Dorian continued without missing a beat. It might have been because I was staring at him intently. He probably thought I was listening. A second knock interrupted my thoughts.
Benchley, Marc’s valet stood in the doorway, “His Lordship thought you might need some help getting ready,” he said. I guess Penny had changed her mind about dressing me, or perhaps Marc had.
A sudden thought occurred to me, “Actually Benchley, I’m already properly dressed, but you could give me a hand with the bed. I haven’t a clue how to get the sheets and pillows back the way they were.” I waved in the general direction of the disaster zone I was calling a bed.
Benchley stood a bit straighter, and I realized I had probably insulted him since such tasks were usually the domain of the chamber maids. He was a ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ after all. He kept his tongue though, and walked over to pick up the coverlets. I watched him carefully, biding my time. Meanwhile, Dorian had stopped his story and was looking at me with an odd expression; he knew I was up to something now.
As soon as Benchley leaned over the bed to smooth the sheets I spoke, “Shibal.” He collapsed across the mattress as if he had been poleaxed.
“Sweet Mother!” Dorian stood up and stared at Benchley, then looked at me, his mouth agape. Then he silently mouthed, “What did you do?” as if we were in danger of being overheard. Honestly, his overly serious expressions are half the reason I love Dorian.
I spent the next few minutes explaining what I had done. One nice thing about Dorian, as opposed to Marc, is that he doesn’t interrupt. He listened intently, his eyes growing wider as I talked. My demonstration had definitely sent him into a state of high anxiety, but the other thing I love about Dorian is his intense loyalty.
“I better go stand guard in the hallway to make sure no one comes in.” He spoke in a hushed tone. I tried to convince him that wouldn’t be necessary, since there was nothing more incriminating in the room than a sleeping manservant, but you can’t shake these ideas from him once he gets his mind set on them.
Once he had left the room, I stepped over to Benchley. My first thought was to awaken him with a shake, since that was what had worked with the bird, but then I figured I should use the opportunity to get more information from my experiment. I tried shouting first, that didn’t work, but it did draw a worried Dorian back in from the hallway. “What are you doing?” he silently mouthed at me.
“Nothing, go back to the hall,” I silently mouthed back. Lord, now he had me doing it too! He went back out, so I decided to try gently shaking the sleeping valet. After a moment, I had to get more vigorous, for it seemed I had put Benchley into a deep slumber. That didn’t work either. Finally I went and got a slender straight pin from the dressing table. I’ve never been sure why they keep those there, but it came in handy.
“Gah!” Benchley uttered a most ungentlemanly sound and sat straight up from the bed. I quickly hid the pin I had just plunged into his posterior. “What happened to me?” He seemed very confused.
“It appears that you fainted, Benchley. Do you think perhaps you might be working too hard lately? You might do well to get some more rest.” I did my best to look concerned for his well-being as I gently ushered him to the door.
“What about the bed sir?” he asked.
“Never mind that,” I replied, “the chamber maids can get it in the morning.”
“Very good sir,” he ambled down the corridor while I watched him go.
Dorian nudged me, “If we don’t get moving, you’re going to miss greeting the Duke’s guests.”
“Oh, right!” I shut the door, and we headed down.
As we walked, he looked over at me, “We’re going to need to talk about this later.”
“Be sure to invite Penny to the meeting,” I muttered sarcastically to myself.
“What? I didn’t hear you,” he said.
“Nothing, I was talking to myself.” Inwardly I did resolve to try to make sure I included her more in the future. Her speech earlier had made me feel like a complete jerk. All of this assumed of course that she didn’t think I was an agent of the dark gods. The last I had seen her, she had been putting as much distance between us as possible.
I wound up standing at the steps leading into the main keep with the Duke and his family. The Lord and Lady Thornbear were there as well, which left me feeling distinctly out of place. While the coaches drew up, the Duchess was kind enough to explain my role.
She was a striking woman in appearance despite her middling years, and she placed her hand over mine as she spoke, “As the guests get out of the carriages, James and I will greet them one by one. Each person standing here will esco
rt one of the guests into the front hall and then show them to the sun room upstairs.” In case you’ve forgotten, James was her husband, the Duke; although she was the only person I had ever heard refer to him by his given name. The sun room was a brightly lit parlor upstairs near the Duke’s rooms. “Mordecai, you will escort Rose Hightower.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Do you remember how to address her?” the Duchess had some qualities that reminded me of my own mother.
“I address her as Lady Hightower,” I said confidently.
“No, Mordecai. Lady Hightower is her mother, you address her simply as Lady Rose,” she remonstrated.
“Yes, Your Grace, Lady Rose.” I had known that, but I was nervous.
By then the first coach had drawn up, and the occupants were getting out. Naturally the first was Devon Tremont, the son of Duke Tremont. The Duke of Tremont was the only peer of the realm who had equal standing with the Duke of Lancaster; accordingly his son and heir had equivalent standing to Marcus. I took that to mean I should be exceedingly polite. The Duke and his wife greeted him warmly, and Marc stepped forward to escort him upstairs.
Knowing Marc as well as I did, I could tell he didn’t like Devon. He tipped his head slightly in greeting, “Devon, it is good to see you again.” Something told me that was exactly the opposite of how he felt, but he hid it so well I doubt anyone else could have discerned it.
“Marcus, well met. I see you are in good health…still.” Devon replied. The slight pause before the word ‘still’ made it abundantly clear he wished it were otherwise. I watched him intently as they mounted the steps. He was of middling height with a lean athletic build and light brown hair. The moment I laid eyes upon the young lord I nearly gasped. He carried about him a strange radiance, almost a purplish aura, and something about it made me feel mildly ill. I had never encountered anything like it before. For a moment his eyes met mine and they narrowed, I wondered what he might be seeing. Did I have a similar aura, and if so… could the young nobleman see it?
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 10
