Jhonate nodded. Justan had already surmised as much.
“This creature, along with the others, was made by something else and recently,” Vannya said.
“What do you mean?” Jhonate asked.
“Well, it obviously isn’t a type of creature that exists in nature so it had to have been created by something or someone,” the mage replied. “And though it seems to be fully grown, the bones in its body have the appearance of the bones of a child. In fact I would say that it is only a few months old.”
“I do not see how that is possible. It was walking around and using spirit magic,” Jhonate pointed out. “And the way Deathclaw described it, the creature threw a knife at him with practiced skill.”
“I agree. That is strange, but the bones do not lie.” Her brow furrowed and she pulled a small notebook and an ink cylinder from one of the vast pockets in her baggy trousers. She flipped open to a page and made a few notes. “Unless this particular type of creature simply does not age, which would be strange since even the bones of regular trolls have these signs.”
“So you believe that these creatures have been created recently,” Jhonate said. “Do you know for what purpose?”
“I have no idea,” Vannya replied. “Not without further study. However I have learned a bit more. For one thing, these things actually have souls.”
Jhonate gave her a wry look. “All creatures have souls, Mage Vannya.”
“Ah, but they don’t. Ever since the ban on spirit magic was lifted at the Mage School I have been doing research on bonding magic and I have learned some very fascinating things.” The more excited the woman grew, the more clinical she sounded. “One of them is that trolls do not have souls.”
“How could they not?” Jhonate asked. “They live.”
“Yes. As do plants. But, with a few rare exceptions, plants are soulless.” Vannya continued with a lecturing tone, “Souls are basically the essence of our being, evidenced by our ability to think and learn. Trolls are creatures completely governed by instincts. Hunger is their only motivating emotion and the only fear they have is of fire. The proof that they are soulless was given in a book written by a man who lived with the Roo-Tan for many years.
“He maintains that during his study of binding magic, he attempted to bind the soul of a troll. The local enchanter laughed at him and told him that this was a wasted endeavor, but the author felt that the soul of a troll would make an excellent companion for a spear. Because of their incessant hunger, you see. He went through all of the proper techniques, even eating part of the troll’s flesh and coating the spear with its slime, but all of his magical efforts were fruitless because, as his enchanter friend had tried to tell him-.”
“Trolls do not have souls,” Jhonate surmised. The woman was becoming as tedious as Wizard Locksher when he ran off on an academic tangent. “Anything else?”
Vannya frowned. “You treat this like a non-fact, but this is news, Jhonate, because it adds together with the other evidence I found and it creates a deeper level of understanding. You see, my latest findings are even more fascinating when you keep these things in mind.”
“Very well. What?” Jhonate asked. She really wanted to know where Vannya was going with this information.
Vannya began to pace, another Locksher trait. “It didn’t occur to me until just this morning, but as I was waking up, bam! There it was. This creature wasn’t just made up of troll parts and human parts and cat parts or whatever. He was all of these creatures in one.”
“So . . . What?” Jhonate squinted. “That does not make sense, Mage Vannya.”
“Alright. Let me explain better.” She gestured wildly with her hands as she spoke. “When Ewzad Vriil made his creations, he took different body parts from different types of creatures and used the magic in the Rings of Stardeon to alter the tissues so that he could kind of glue it all together. But the method of creation of these creatures is quite different. In this case it was like as if a human, a troll, and a cat, and a few other things all got together in some weird combinative orgy and somehow produced a single child from their coupling.”
Jhonate’s face twisted with disgust. “That description was incredibly revolting and likely unnecessary.”
Vannya cocked her head at her. “Of course. You’re right. Besides, it’s not even a complete analogy because trolls don’t have genitalia,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “The point is that this creature wasn’t pieced together with all these different parts. It was grown together as if in a womb, each animal material sort of randomly competing for a function. Kind of like the way a human baby has different components of its mother and father. The thing is that these various creatures aren’t anatomically compatible so it led to multiple deformities.”
Jhonate stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to piece together what Vannya had just said. “How is this possible?”
“Again, I have no idea,” Vannya said, grinning. “But we have to find out. I need more specimens and that’s why I need to talk to your father.”
“I agree with you,” Jhonate said. “Why then did you bring this information to me?”
“Because the Protector won’t see me,” Vannya replied. “I have been trying to get in to talk to him for several days and all they will tell me is that he will be notified of my request.”
Now Jhonate understood. Vannya saw her as the back way into seeing her father. Little did she know that Jhonate had been having just as difficult a time getting in to see him these last few days. “Exactly who is this ‘they’ that you have been speaking with?”
“The guards at the door to the conference room,” Vannya said. “Should I have talked to someone else?”
No doubt she had hoped to charm her way inside. Unfortunately for her, the Protector’s guards were hand-picked for their diligence. They would, however, have passed the message on as promised. Xedrion did know that she wanted to meet with him. He just chose not to reply.
Jhonate wondered if it was because she was a mage. The Roo people had long held a traditional belief that elemental magic was a sacrilege. They preached that the elements belonged to the gods. The Roo-Tan were long removed from their former belief system, but the old ways died hard and her father was very much a traditionalist.
When Justan had told Xedrion that he had sent for an expert on modified trolls, he hadn’t mentioned that she was a Mage School graduate. Officially wizards were not allowed in Malaroo. If Sir Hilt hadn’t needed her help with his injuries it was likely Vannya would either still be in prison or on her way to the border.
What Jhonate said was, “Perhaps he does not believe the matter important enough to warrant a meeting.”
“Not important enough? Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying?” Vannya asked, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Somewhere in those swamps is a wizard or a creature of some type that is creating these part-troll abominations. Aren’t you curious as to what its intentions are or how many of these beasts have been created? This could be every bit as big a threat to your people as some group of merpeople and a bunch of primitive savages cavorting along the coast.”
“Cavorting?” Jhonate said, momentarily amused by her outburst. Then a plan began to take shape in her mind. Perhaps Vannya’s dilemma was just the excuse she had been looking for. Her tone changed to one of curiosity. “What is it exactly you want from my father? Besides telling him what you told me.”
Vannya stopped her pacing. “Are telling me that you’ll talk to him?”
“If I think he will be interested,” Jhonate replied. “What is it?”
“Well, I believe I’ve learned all I can with these remains. What I need now is to see one of these things alive. I would like permission to go into the swamp, with some warriors of course, and attempt to capture one of these things.”
“Mage Vannya, what you are suggesting is extremely dangerous. This creature you have been studying had spirit magic. What if all of them do?”
“I doubt th
at’s possible,” Vannya said. “Their makeup is too random for that and anyway, when your brother’s men killed those first three they didn’t report any magical attacks.”
“I suppose not,” Jhonate admitted. “Very well, I shall talk to him. Nevertheless, I think you should ask him for a witch to come along with you just in case.”
“Thank you!” Vannya rushed over and wrapped Jhonate into a hug. “I appreciate it. I truly do!”
Jhonate tried to think of a reason why she shouldn’t just deliver a sharp knee to the girl’s stomach. In the end, she decided that such behavior was unseemly. She gently, but firmly extracted herself from the mage’s grip. “Now go. I will bring your proposal to him later today.”
“Okay,” Vannya said and strode to the door. She turned and waved cheerfully before letting herself out.
“What does she think I am, one of those twittering men that she can charm?” Jhonate mumbled. She laced up her boots and forced herself to wait a full five minutes before she walked out the door and made her way to her father’s conference room.
The door of the conference room stood out from the rather plain doorways of the rest of the palace. It was made of dead Jharro wood and the elves had carved it with a depiction of the day that the Roo-Tan dedicated themselves to the grove. A woman and an elf stood before a bearded, but faceless representation of the Prophet as he had them sign the accords.
Standing on either side of the door were two of the Protector’s guards. Usually they were posted just inside the room. The fact that they were waiting outside told her that her father thought this meeting with the ambassador was very important and didn’t want so much as a soft knock to interrupt him.
Jhonate projected a sense of purpose as she approached. She nodded at the guards. “Eldritch. Chandley.”
“Good morning, daughter of Xedrion,” they replied in unison.
“I have an important message for my father,” she announced. “And I must deliver it in person.”
“I am afraid it must wait,” Eldrich said, his tone firm but respectful. “He has told us that this meeting is not to be interrupted. You should come back later.”
Jhonate inclined her head at them, acknowledging that they were doing their jobs well. “Then I shall wait inside and speak with him after the meeting is over. I shall be silent until he is ready for me.”
The guards frowned. “I am sorry, daughter of Xedrion, but your father did not mention any exceptions.”
“Gentlemen, have you ever known my father to deny me anything?” she asked arching a single eyebrow at them.
They glanced at each other and shrugged. Everyone was well aware of the preferential treatment Jhonate received. Eldrich motioned her forward with his head and slowly opened the door on its well-greased and silent hinges.
The Protector’s conference room was wide and hexagonal with a domed ceiling. In the center of the room was a six-sided table where Xedrion and the Mer-Dan ambassador stood facing each other. Standing at her father’s shoulders were Hubrin, his second son, and his first wife, Herlda. Justan stood a short distance away, his hands held behind his back as he watched the conversation unfold. It was Xedrion’s preference that the speakers in any meeting stay on their feet. It helped discourage endless droning and kept everyone alert.
Justan’s eyes flickered Jhonate’s way and she heard his voice in her mind, What are you doing here?
She replied through the Jharro ring that was their connection to each other, I need to speak with my father. I came inside to wait.
My feet are sore, he complained. Three straight days of meetings constantly standing still. I would much rather have been training with you this morning.
A wise choice of words, Jhonate replied.
She looked around the room and saw her mother reclining on one of the wicker benches. She wore a flowing white dress that was covered in intricate green embroidery that matched the ribbons in her hair. Jhandra bin Tayl was a beautiful woman at any time, and she was particularly radiant when she was pregnant. Today, however, her face was marred by a scowl that would have rivaled one of Jhonate’s best. Jhonate’s youngest brother, Trincy, just ten-years-old held a feather in one hand that fluttered madly as he tried to keep his mother cool.
Jhonate walked quietly over to join her. She sat down on the bench next to her and bent to the woman’s ear. “What is bothering you, mother?”
“Incessant meetings,” she grumped quietly. “My back and hips are aching and this insolent brat inside me is kicking my bladder to pieces.”
“Is there anything I can do to help make you more comfortable?” Jhonate asked. Jhandra had pillows piled all around her and Trincy kept a pitcher of spiced banana punch nearby in case she became thirsty.
Trincy looked at Jhonate with bored and pleading eyes, but she shook her head gently. There was no getting him out of this assignment.
“You can walk over and lop that disgusting merman’s head off is what you can do,” Jhandra hissed. “Every expression on that pig’s face is either a veiled insult or a veiled threat. This whole treaty nonsense is a sham and your father knows it.” She winced and placed a hand over her belly. “Blasted pains.”
Jhonate looked up at the merman ambassador. He was listening to Xedrion’s speech with a look of long suffering that made Jhonate want to do just as her mother had requested. He wore silken robes of a wispy yellow and spoke with an aristocratic accent. His jowls jiggled as he talked.
The first time she had seen Elder Qelvyn, she had thought him a fat elf, but had quickly learned that he was retaining ocean water in his skin in order to keep himself moist. As a result, he always looked like he was sweating profusely. Her father found it a grave insult, insinuating that the Roo-Tan could not provide him with water. In effect, he was calling them a dry people.
“The Roo-Dan and the Merpeople have the right to gather together in any way they wish,” Xedrion was saying. “However I will not sign away our right to mass my people along the border in kind if I feel that you are likely to attack.”
“My dear Protector,” Elder Qelvyn said. “As I have attempted to reassure you from the moment we met, the members of the Mer-Dan Collective have given up all claims on the land that you inhabit. In addition, we have decided to let go of any past antagonism our peoples have felt toward the Roo-Tan. Why, your purpose is to protect the grove. What possible quarrel could we have with such a noble goal? After all, what good would it do us to harm that holy place?”
Jhonate resisted the urge to let out a derisive snort. It was true that the Roo-Dan’s enmity had mainly been with the Roo-Tan and had little to do with the grove, but it was a well-known fact that the merpeople in their hidden fortress of Pearl Cove had long wished to destroy the elves and take the grove as their own.
“Is that so?” Xedrion said.
Jhonate had once heard her father described as a rock of a man during his meetings, someone who rarely showed rage or amusement. Jhonate disagreed. Her father’s face was a constant ebb and flow of emotions. At the moment, what she saw was fury. He didn’t show it with a wrinkled brow or a curled lip. It was in his eyes.
The Protector of the Grove placed his hands on the table before him and leaned forward. “Then what is this I hear of a demon army that has invaded our country?”
The ambassador blinked as if in surprise, but Jhonate wasn’t convinced. “This is the first I have heard of such a group. Are you sure they are an army? Could they be refugees fleeing Alberri? I hear that there is quite the war going on in our neighboring country.”
“They are a group of demons thirteen hundred strong and led by a general. That sounds like an army to me,” Xedrion replied. He added, “I have it by a trustworthy source that this army has plans to join your forces and that their leader’s end goal is to conquer the Jharro Grove.”
The merman sputtered. “As-as I said before, the Mer-Dan Collective has no designs on the most holy Jharro Grove. We are well aware of the catastrophe that the grove’s destructi
on would bring. If this encroaching ‘army’ were to come to us seeking our aid in such an endeavor, the Mer-Dan Collective would attempt to dissuade them, of course.”
“Indeed,” Xedrion said, leaning back once more. “And would your ‘collective’ assist us if this army were to have such designs?”
Elder Qelvyn hesitated. “Well, Protector, as of the moment there is no agreement or treaty between our two peoples. That is why I am here; to broker such a deal. If there were a signed document ratifying our alliance, why of course we would fight alongside you, just as we would expect you to fight alongside us if we were under attack.”
“Do you have such a document prepared?” Xedrion asked.
“The scholars of Pearl Cove have met with the Roo-Dan leaders and have a tentative version compiled. Of course we would expect you to go over this treaty and we could then discuss any changes you feel necessary,” the merman replied with a wet smile.
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 17
