by Edun, Terah
“Forgive my manners, milady,” said Mace, as noticed Ciardis standing by Sebastian’s side. “Who do I have the pleasure of encountering in this…gorgeous forest?”
Sebastian, stoic beside her, said nothing, but he did relax a bit. She suspected he’d decided she wasn’t a part of the four men’s scheme. “None of your business,” Ciardis replied, her gaze firm and stone cold.
Laughter sounded all around them, and Varden drawled, “I like a woman with spirit. I’m so going to enjoy breaking you.”
“No hard feelings, of course, lass,” said Mace. “It’s just that once we get rid of dear old Sebastian here, we can’t have anyone else telling tall tales.”
“Weepy women?” she snarled in outrage. “I’ll show you a weepy woman.”
Ciardis pulled a jeweled dagger from her sleeve. Sebastian glanced at her askance, mildly impressed.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said under his breath.
“Mind your business,” she snapped. “He didn’t insult you.”
The man in front of her snorted and pulled out a full-length sword…from the air.
“What is they say on the streets, lass?” he asked. “Ah, yes: ‘Bring it on.’”
“What is your business here in the Aether?” she demanded. “And why do you accost us here? Surely four men against one boy and a woman is entirely unfair.”
“We live in the Court of Sandrin,” said the boy standing to the east. “You learn to be pragmatic. If he dies today, our problem disappears.”
“On this I agree with Dar,” said Varden. “Whatever is necessary to restore our rightful power and connection to the lands…even killing a Prince.”
“If you’d actually paid attention in our tutorial lessons you’d know that my death would only make your power dissipate faster.” Sebastian said in a voice dripping with venom, “I am the Prince, the heir, the only one who can see the courts through this crisis.”
“On the contrary, Sebastian,” said Mace as he leaned forward, arms crossed on the hilt of the sword anchored casually in the ground, “we believe—we know—that your death is the solution we seek. Life will once more flow throughout the Kingdom of Algardis. Whether or not a direct descendant of the Algardis Emperor rules is no longer a concern. We need new blood, new power—and a new ruler.”
Ciardis was began to panick. She did not like where this was going. A new ruler? The Kingdom already has an Emperor, she thought frantically as she edged closer to Sebastian. They can’t possibly be considering assassinating the Emperor!
As she wracked her brain for a reasonable explanation, she remembered something with dread. According to the court’s Trial by Combat rules, they could get rid of an Imperial heir—and right now, there was only one.
The full impact of that thought hit her with the weight of a ton of bricks. With an internal groan, she thought in horror, The Imperial heir is a young prince. I’m standing next to a boy claiming to be that prince.
Perhaps she should have been slightly more polite to him.
Sebastian could feel the disturbed thoughts emanating from the girl, but he was more concerned with the mechanics of his upcoming fight. Perhaps he was a weakling when it came to magical talent, but he wasn’t completely inept at martial arts. He couldn’t depend on the girl; he had no idea who she really was, or if she could fight magically or physically in the Aether Realm. He thought grimly, If I fire this arrow Varden, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of seeing Varden meet his death before I meet mine.
Then Sebastian frowned. His mage core was pulsing erratically, jumping around as if it were itching to be let loose. That had never happened to him before. His magic was essentially dormant. What could it possibly be responding to? he wondered with a fascination he really didn’t have time for.
Keeping his gaze focused outward, he inwardly sought out the spike of power, diving down to his magical core. He was surprised—very surprised—at what he found. The brilliant orange ball of fire that pulsed with his magic was tightly locked down, as always, but it was rippling. As he watched, he saw flares coming off of the core, reaching for the tangled flares of another mage core that was hovering in a person right next to him.
It was the power of Ciardis Weathervane.
So she hadn’t been lying! To say he was delighted to see his magic combining with—no, feeding off of—the mage core of the girl beside him was an understatement. Assessing his suddenly revived magical talent, he realized that he had enough power to activate the spells to return from the Aether realm. If he’d been deposited o the place in the Aether Realm where thought he was, then with Ciardis’ help all he had to do was cast the enchantment to return home. Unlike some areas in Aether, the jump was relatively easy here; no portals were necessary.
He had just made up his mind when he saw that all four men had decided to pull their weapons from the holders and Mace was bringing up his sword in a firm grip. Sebastian grabbed the girl by her arm, muttered the enchantment, and they disappeared in a whirl of magic.
They landed in an opulent apartment the likes of which Ciardis had never seen. She walked forward across a priceless Sahelian rug and turned to find that the men were gone and the boy was staring at her. “What?” she said. “Still want to kill me?”
“Hardly.” His head tilted back in surprise as he let out a laugh. “I suppose I do owe you a bit of explanation, Mistress Weathervane,” he said ruefully.
She nodded sharply, crossing her arms as she said, “You’re the future Emperor, I take it. Why were those men after you?”
He cast a wry glance in her direction as he walked over to a decanter on a shelf. “Why wouldn’t they be after me?” He busied himself pouring water from the decanter into the matching crystal glasses by its side. He walked back over and handed her a glass. “They hate me and everything I stand for.”
“And what would that be?” Ciardis asked as she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. It tasted clean and new, like water from a mountain stream. Probably was, considering who he was.
“To them I am going to be a magically mpotent Emperor and doom them to powerless Imperial Court,” he replied.
Ciardis frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Where are you from?” he asked abruptly, changing the subject.
“Vaneis,” she replied, swallowing hard. She was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous, as if something were pulling at her stomach. Unsteadily she said, “Near the White Mountains. I’ve lived there all my life until now.”
As he stayed silent in his thoughts she grabbed at her stomach and dropped the glass, gasping, “What did you poison me with?”
“Nothing,” he said, startled. He saw her form begin to shimmer and said quickly, “You need to anchor yourself, or you’ll go back to where you came from! The bracelet is set to your desire to stay or to come.”
Just before she disappeared, Ciardis called out, “How?”
Sebastian stared at the damp circle of water on the carpet where the girl had disappeared and thought, Well, god dammit. And dreck, for that matter. She was who she said she was.
Once again, Ciardis felt awash with magic. Her vision faded, and she felt as if her body were being pulled apart in a thousand different ways. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling; it reminded her of a childhood incident when the blacksmith’s daughter had gotten mad at Ciardis for making eyes at the farmer’s boy she liked. One minute, Ciardis had been giving the boy a shy smile, and the next thing she knew, she had been in the middle of a dirty pond, coughing up water and struggling to stand up.
It was just Ciardis’s rotten luck. Mary, the blacksmith’s daughter, was destined to be a portal master, and Ciardis had gotten on her bad side. Mary had called it “gating.” Ciardis had called it being a know-it-all bitch who used magic to get what she wanted. She had the same gut wren
ching experience this time…but no Mary to explain its occurrence.
As her vision began to clear, she realized that she was in the bedroom off the memory room where her journey had begun. She promptly passed out in the large feather bed from magical fatigue.
She woke up to a loud clap next to her ear. There stood Serena, crowing with glee. “So it worked, then! Your powers have come in?”
Ciardis, afraid she might faint again, sat up unsteadily on the bed. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “Yes, I guess so.”
“And did you like the gift?” asked Serena.
Ciardis wondered if Serena knew what the gift really was. “It’s certainly…unusual,” she replied cautiously.
“Yes,” said Serena, still deliriously happy. “The gemstones are quite rare. We’ll make sure to get you a shorter dress to show it off on the second day of the Hunt.”
“Serena?” asked Ciardis tentatively. “What is the Aether Realm?”
Serena eyed her sharply. “Where did you hear that term?”
“Around,” Ciardis said vaguely. That answers my question then. Serena had no idea the bracelet was made with residual magic - an object imbued with mage power that would be dormant until activated by the person it was intended for.
“The Aether Realm is a dangerous, dangerous place,” Serena said quietly. “It is a Middle Realm between ours and that of the Gods, and mimics our world exactly. Mages have gone there and never returned. They got so caught up in the magic of the Realm that it has been said that they could no longer feel the drain on their mage cores, which grew worse the longer they stayed.”
“How do you get there?” Ciardis asked.
“You don’t. We don’t,” said Serena flatly. “Only mages of great power can access that Realm. And you can only leave if they want you to. You will never go there, if I can help it,” she said, twisting the rings on her fingers as she spoke. By the end of the statement, she was actually wringing her hands.
Ciardis found it weird, Serena was fidgeting. By the Gods, the woman was nervous.
“Enough of this conversation,” her sponsor ordered. “Put the Aether Realm out of your mind. You need to get ready now, because one of your patron candidates has come for a pre-interview.”
“A pre-interview?” Ciardis asked. “You didn’t tell me about any—”
“Don’t you sass me, young woman,” Serena said. “I would have had more than enough time to prepare you if you hadn’t slept the day away. I have no idea what you have done, but your magical core is practically drained. It’s a good thing that this pre-interview is only a formality, as opposed to a true demonstration of your weathervane abilities. You wouldn’t be able to enhance a small fire with what’s left of your core. He wishes to meet with you in the tea parlor for a light meal.”
“He shows quite a keen interest in you,” Serena continued, “Let’s get you changed before hand.” Ciardis nodded in acceptance and followed her out of the room and down the hall to another wing of the castle.
She was surprised when they ended up in the hammam below the castle’s main hall instead of back in her room for a quick change of dress and light make-up The hammam was a large bathing room in the basement of the castle. Ciardis liked to think of it as her own personal heaven—similar to the heated mineral pools of Vaneis, except that it was ten times more efficient and the water wasn’t cloudy. The companions used it as a communal bath; it had steam rooms, massage parlors, showers, and bathing pools. Even with a personal shower in her room, Ciardis still came down to the hammam quite often with Teachene for girl chat after their practicals. It was quite relaxing to soak in the steam and water after a long day of practice, practice, practice.
The baths served not only as a place for the women to clean themselves, but the steam heating system from the fires was also used to create steam which was piped up to heat the floors above when needed. As she and Serena entered through the main doors, Ciardis saw that three attendants awaited her: one for her hair, another to help her in the bath and to trim her body hair, and a third to powder her face and work on her nails. They were dressed in modest dresses with latched belts, and carried their tools wrapped in towels.
Bemused, she asked Serena, “Isn’t my patron waiting?”
With a wink, Serena said, “It’s never too early to learn the art of keeping a man on tether. He’ll wait, he’ll wonder, and as long as he isn’t waiting too long, he’ll be salivating by the time you arrive.”
Once they’d finished a nice, long half-hour later, Ciardis was escorted to the dressing room, where she slipped into a form-fitting gold dress with a sweeping skirt that matched the small golden butterfly ornaments pinned in her hair.
Before entering the parlor where her suitor waited, she turned to Serena, “Who is he?”
As the parlor doors opened, Serena whispered, “Viscount Iskas of Marce.” Nodding, Ciardis stepped into the room with Lady Serena by her side.
The Viscount was rather short, she decided, shorter than she’d expected, though slim and nicely built. He was tracing his finger on a large map on display behind Venetian glass – his back to them, though surely he’d heard the door open. As he turned around, she realized with an intense shock that the Viscount was none other than Prince Sebastian from the Aether Realm.
Chapter 10
If Ciardis felt shocked, it was nothing compared to the look on Sebastian’s face. She could practically hear him thinking, So she was telling the truth, with great relief.
They stared at each other for a full minute before Lady Serena stepped forward to break the silence. “My Lord Viscount, it is a pleasure and an honor to welcome you to the Companion’s Guild,” she said, “We were pleased with your request for a preparatory meeting with one of our most celebrated companion trainees, Miss Ciardis Vane. We have just confirmed that she is, in fact, a WeatherVane.”
Ciardis felt a stab of annoyance as she stared at Sebastian. The drawing in his binder didn’t look the least bit like him, and nowhere in the dossier was it mentioned not that he was still a teenager, nor that “Viscount Marce” was apparently one of the Prince Imperial’s hereditary titles. If, indeed, it was. And what was this “Iskas” business? How many names did he have, anyway?
Cutting his eyes from Ciardis’s gaze, Sebastian bowed smoothly to Lady Serena as he replied, “The pleasure is mine, Lady Serena. I hope to learn more about the woman I have become so taken with even before the Patron Hunt.”
Ciardis snorted, unable to completely stop herself from laughing. The amusement she felt at the flowery language from a boy who couldn’t be more than fifteen was threatening to undo her.
“Is there something wrong, Ciardis?” inquired Serena with ice in her voice as she swept forward to prepare the tea. Her icy tone promised that Ciardis had even more etiquette lesson in store for her, especially since Ciardis should have been the first to step forward and take care of pouring the tea.
“No, milady,” said Ciardis quietly, horrified that Serena was serving the Prince Imperial. There was no shame in that, no matter how high one’s rank, but it was Ciardis’s job. She felt ready to melt into the floor, but instead, she went to sit beside Sebastian on the couch, noting the weird expression on his face as she sat.
Calmly she took over Serena’s task, asked Sebastian if he’d like one cube or two, and dediced she ready to throw the tea in his face after all of this secrecy. With side glances she took in his nice clothing and polite manners as best she could. As soon as Ciardis had finished serving, Lady Serena said, “I’ll leave you two here until the bell tolls the half-hour.”
“Will that do?” Serena asked Sebastian. At his nod, she swept regally out of the parlor.
“I believe you,” Sebastian said as soon as the door closed. He turned toward her, his face expressionless. “I believe that you are, in fa
ct, who you say you are: the last WeatherVane in all of Algardis. And I need your help.”
Ciardis lifted a well-plucked eyebrow and raised her leg to show off the bauble encircling her left ankle above a ridiculous satin slipper. “Well, Viscount, I still don’t believe you. I know next to nothing about you, but I do know this: you say you are a prince, and yet you appear on my doorstep calling yourself a viscount. Given the inaccuracies in my dossier on Viscount Marce, including who he truly is, I’m inclined to doubt the veracity of either claim.”
“I’m not Iskas,” admitted Sebastian. “That much is true. I had my guardsman forge his personal papers in order to be considered for your patronage. But I lied about that for a very good reason.” He took a deep breath and stood, adjusting his tunic. Another green one to match his eyes, she noticed. “I couldn’t very well apply as myself. Anyone tied to me is in peril, as you saw yesterday in the Aether Realm. My real name is Sebastian Athanos Algardis.” He said the words in a rush, as if he knew that if he didn’t get it out now, he wouldn’t have the courage to keep going.
Ciardis looked him over doubtfully before she burst out laughing, hands clutching her stomach. “I’ve heard some hogwash,” she said, “but your tale, milord, takes the cake.” She stood up and rested her hands on her hips. “Do you really expect me to believe that I stand before the heir to the throne, who is posing as a Viscount, and that he wants my help?”
Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a coming headache. “Yes, I do.”
“Ha!” she said, throwing up her hands. She paced the room. “It figures. The nobles all want to mock the poor, powerless, and country Companion.” Angrily, she turned around in a swirl of golden fabric. “Do you really think I’m not worthy of a patron’s choice?”
