A Sorcerer's Fist

by Guy Antibes

  People dressed in somber colors spoke in low tones, but the emperor was not evident, at least not to Ricky. As they walked through the room, Ricky noticed the men and women staring at him. They were not friendly faces.

  “Ignore them,” Laria said. “They are courtiers who do not like anyone from the outside approaching Emperor Hanni. It only means that there is less time for them. Hanni will see me, don’t worry.”

  They reached another gold door, but this was normal-sized. Two huge guards stood at attention holding nasty halberds. They wore golden breastplates, short pleated skirts, greaves, and armored sandals. Their hair was tied in a topknot with a red skewer keeping it in place.

  “Ceremonial garb?” Ricky asked.

  Laria nodded.

  “Laria Bwasee, third paternal cousin, to speak to his Excellency Emperor Hanni Bwasee,” she said in Parantian.

  The guards nodded, and one of them opened the door and slipped inside.

  “You may enter,” the guard said upon returning.

  They walked through the door. A row of tiny skylights far above lit a long gallery filled with supplicants. Laria ignored them and walked to the front of the line.

  A white-haired man garbed in red robes sat at a golden table stacked with paper on both sides. He looked up as Laria approached. He stood when he recognized Ricky’s escort.

  “I bring a visitor from Paranty,” she said in Parantian.

  “Laria. What brings you to the palace?” He replied in Parantian, glanced at Ricky, and then looked over her shoulder. “They are not likely to be happy you jumped the line.”

  “Do you think I care, Uncle?”

  The man laughed. “Not at all. Consider yourself next.”

  They didn’t have long to wait before three men walked out of the room beyond, scowling and muttering in Jarracian.

  “Here we go,” Laria said. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and shook out her hair.

  Ricky followed her past another pair of massive guards into a red room inhabited by a person garbed in red, standing on a red carpet. Hanni wore a uniform, more conventional than the guards with gold braid and gold buttons. He had a yellow streak going from his part across and down his shoulder-length black hair.

  Hanni stood and walked out from his desk. He took Laria by the shoulders and kissed her forehead.

  “Speak in Parantian, please,” Laria said.

  “Of course, cousin, it has been too long.” The man ignored Ricky and pawed Laria and kissed her on the lips.

  Ricky saw and heard the slap. Hanni put a hand to his face, but the man smiled.

  “My little chicken has pecked me.”

  Ricky didn’t hesitate and sang the sterility counterspell. Hanni didn’t seem to notice, so he applied the counterspell to compulsion. Nothing happened. Ricky sighed, thinking he hadn’t been noticed.

  Hanni turned to Ricky. “What were the spells?”

  “One was a counterspell to counteract a sterility spell given to all the leaders of Kerrothia, and the other was to see if you were compelled.”

  “I wasn’t compelled, was I?” Hanni said.

  “No,” Ricky said. “If you had been you would be affected.”

  Hanni clapped his hands. “Good!” he turned to Laria. “That means we can produce offspring?”

  “In your dreams, Hanni,” Laria said.

  Hanni leered. “I can always try.”

  “You wouldn’t want your reign to end prematurely, would you?”

  The emperor put out his arms. “You have me there, precious. But now I have a new goal to make lots of little emperors.”

  “You do that,” Laria said, “Just don’t do it with me.”

  Hanni turned his attention to Ricky. “You are young for an accomplished sorcerer. You should be just old enough to enter Duteria’s Rings.”

  “I am a Tower sorcerer.”

  “Really?” Hanni said sarcastically. “Show me some tower sorcery.”

  Ricky shot up towards the tall ceiling and came back down.

  “You are a performance sorcerer, too?”

  Ricky pulled out his wand and generated a thread of flame. It exploded with a loud enough pop to draw the two guards at Hanni’s door.

  “You may return,” Hanni said to the men, flitting them away with his hand.

  “I imagine the effect can be magnified?”

  Ricky nodded.

  Hanni shook his hand. “I am convinced. Your name and rank?”

  Ricky looked at Laria. “Rank?”

  “Title.”

  “I am Hendrico Valian, a Tower sorcerer, and heir to the duchy of Naparra in Paranty.”

  “A budding duke. You intend to put down King Leon with your lovely companion, the Princess Pira?”

  “I see my fame precedes me,” Ricky said. He shot a glance at Laria, who shook her head as if to say she didn’t know that Hanni knew.

  “There are birds, you know.” He looked meaningfully at Laria, who blushed.

  “I have no love for King Leon, and I know of no one who does. I have one condition. Whoever ends up ruling Sealio must invite me for a visit.”

  “I can invite you to my castle in southern Naparra.”

  “Sealio. Emperors won’t settle for less.”

  Ricky nodded. “If I am in a position to do so, I will, Your Excellency.”

  “Very good, Laria.” He walked closer to her and touched her face. “Very good, indeed. You may go.”

  Laria gave Hanni a curt bow. Ricky did the same. She took his hand and led him back through the door without looking back. They quickly walked all the way out of the palace. Once in the sun, Laria shuddered.

  “I hate that man.”

  “I can see why.”

  She just nodded. “You are leaving Raircoo tomorrow?”

  Ricky shook his head. “Today. Do you have any advice for Cralt?”

  Laria laughed. “You walk from the light into the dark. Craltians are base, vile creatures. I would call them thugs, but that is too nice a name. I don’t suggest you try the same approach. The Craltian king flaunts his openness. Just wait close to the castle for a day or two, and you’ll be able to throw your counterspell at him.”

  “Is he as strong a sorcerer as your cousin?”

  “You noticed?” Laria said.

  “He was shielded the entire time.”

  “You are a Tower sorcerer.”

  Ricky nodded.

  “I wish I could shield myself from him, but now that he knows he is no longer sterile, he will lose interest. Any issue between blood relatives cannot rise to the Imperial throne.”

  “Then may he quickly verify his fertility.”

  “There will be many terrified Raircooan maidens. I will treat you to a hearty Jarracian lunch, and then you can be off.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~

  R icky ate a cold dinner in a little wood close to the Craltian border. He linked with Pira.

  I keep running into queens and princesses, he said as he described his experience in Jarrace. I can do without returning to that country, but I did make a promise to invite the Emperor to Sealio when King Leon is deposed.

  That is problematic, Pira said. The Jarracians feel if their Emperor visits a former subject, it is a re-affirmation of Jarracian dominance.

  Then he’ll have to negotiate the terms of his visit to disavow such a thing, Ricky said.

  Good. You do the negotiating, then.

  I will if I have to. Ricky felt his cheeks burn in the cool night, but he would do what he said. He had given his word, even if it would have to be modified.

  Laria Bwasee said the Craltians are double-dealing barbarians. Is she correct?

  He could feel Pira laugh. No. It is a reflection of Jarracian arrogance. The Craltians are mostly honest, but they are very direct. They don’t respond to people with airs. That’s why my cousin didn’t like them and didn’t hesitate to try to take over their mines. You will do just fine. The king is very acc
essible.

  I will be in the capital tomorrow evening. Do any of them speak Parantian?

  Many do, Pira said. We went over this before you left.

  I needed your perspective reinforced after my Jarracian experience.

  Just make sure you succeed. I’d like you back at my side. There are decisions that are beyond me. Have a wonderful night.

  I will, Ricky said.

  ~

  If there was an opposite culture to Jarrace, it was Cralt. Instead of thatch roofs, all Craltian dwellings appeared to be roofed with black stone. The orderly fields of Jarrace gave way to every field a different size and shape. Ricky wondered if that was an indication of the Craltian culture.

  He stopped in the middle of a wood to finish the food he had brought from Raircoo. Hoksakel, the capital, wasn’t far. It was on the coast, just like most capitals. It wasn’t long before Ricky landed in a fallow field not far from the road to the capital.

  No one guarded the gate to the city. Ricky walked under a squat stone wall. It was thick with crenellations. The Craltian king didn’t live in a palace, but in an impressive castle built on the highest point in the city. As Ricky walked among the people, he could tell their language was close to Vorrian. He couldn’t understand either, but they used the same alphabet that Paranty did.

  If the king was so accessible, Ricky thought he could walk right up to the castle and ask to see King Wako, so he did.

  “I have a message for your king,” Ricky said in Parantian.

  The guards looked blankly at one another, but one’s eyebrows finally rose, and he trotted off. Ricky waited until the guard returned, dragging an old skinny man. He reminded Ricky of a tall Wedo Sinkel, the wand maker.

  “You are from Paranty?” the man said. His front teeth were missing, so he spoke with whistles, as well as an accent.

  “I am. I have an important message for King Wako.”

  “Are you someone important? You look like you haven’t seen twenty, yet.”

  “You may show him this. It is my wand. I am a Duterian Tower sorcerer.”

  “A powerful sorcerer from Duteria, representing Parantian interests? There is a paradox there, young man.”

  “I will explain the paradox to your king.”

  The man weighed Ricky’s words. “Very well. You can put your wand away and come this way.”

  The interior of the castle was made of heavy timber covered with carvings that seemed to have blurred over time that provided support for rough stone walls. It looked like some old massive hunting lodge. On his way, he passed a line of seven young children, giggling to each other as they marched somewhere. Could they be King Wako’s children? Maybe he didn’t need to be in Cralt. The two men climbed chunky stairs to a room that rose to the castle roof. Like the throne room in Jarrace, skylights were placed so that columns of light made from the dusty air appeared to be holding up the ceiling.

  A youngish man about King Courer’s age sat on his haunches, warming his hands in a small fire that didn’t warm the room up at all. Ricky felt the chill the minute he saw the tableau. The man rose. He was short and looked strong and had the same white-blond hair as Hemo. A tarnished silver circlet controlled his straight hair.

  “What has my steward brought in?” King Wako said to Ricky in Parantian.

  “Hendrico Valian of Tossa, recently advanced to the Tower of the Duterian Rings.”

  The king’s face showed no sophistication as it broke into a wide grin. “I’ve heard of you, I think. You killed the Crown Prince of Dimani? A performance sorcerer?”

  “That I did, King Wako. I bring news from the West,” Ricky said.

  “Come into the council room. I was in this dreadful room only because it helps me concentrate when I am by myself, but that’s not the case any longer, is it?”

  “Hopefully not.”

  “Good. Come with me.” Wako dismissed the steward and led Ricky out of the hall and into a room dominated by a thick table made out of a single slab of some large tree.

  Ricky looked around. Desks surrounded the table. Some were filled with papers, and others were empty.

  “I have heard of you, indeed. In fact, just this week I learned that you were instrumental in cleaning out southern Dimani, and that was after you stopped a sorcerer’s revolt in Okansil.”

  “You are well-informed.”

  Wako raised his hand. “We may look unsophisticated in Cralt, but make no mistake, we keep up with the doings on the continent we share with friends and foes. Paranty is not a friend, by the way.” He stared at Ricky. “Your business.”

  “I am a friend of Paranty, but not of King Leon,” Ricky said.

  “Some would say Paranty and the king are one and the same.” He paused and looked at Ricky. “But I am not one of them.”

  Ricky couldn’t help but smile. He found himself liking the king from what he could tell, even though Ricky knew the man was teasing him. “I understand you have not been able to father children. Am I correct?”

  “So far you are. It’s not that I’m not willing. I get my practice in,” Wako said.

  “A fanatical sect of the Duterian god, Botoy, spelled all the monarchs of Kerrothia and Dimani with a sterility enchantment years ago.”

  “That didn’t work for King Korlia, my neighbor to the south.”

  “It did, but his wife somehow was able to eliminate the spell. King Renako holds a lifetime appointment, but his son, Blinak, doesn’t inherit the throne.”

  “Indeed he doesn’t. Especially since he led an effort to remove his father.”

  “Vorrian sorcerers led Blinak. They were under the influence of the same Duterian sect. They have become more active in Paranty. Duke Bariani of my hometown of Tossa fell under a compulsion spell and was in the process of ruining the city.”

  Wako squinted at Ricky. “You think I have the spell?”

  “If you will permit, I can lift the spell and provide you with some protection from it reoccurring.”

  “It won’t hurt, will it?” Wako said, smiling.

  Ricky shook his head. “Not at all. Can I?”

  Wako put his arms out at his side. “Spell away, young Valian.”

  Ricky couldn’t help but smile. He removed the sterility spell, protected the king from another, and sang the counterspell for compulsion when he was through.

  Wako’s eyes goggled for a second. “I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt. My head feels like it is splitting open.”

  “You’ve been compelled. I didn’t expect it.”

  “I have?” Wako held his head with both hands as he sat down on one of the thick, carved chairs at the table. “It is recent. Can you keep that from happening again?”

  Ricky sang the protection spell.

  Wako looked at Ricky with a painful smile. “That didn’t take away the headache, but it didn’t make it worse. It seems there has been a recent visitor, less than a week ago, as it happens. She might have been from Duteria. I couldn’t seem to tell you in the Great Hall. She was persuasive in other ways, as well,” Wako said. “The woman has suggested that I change some policies. I have been thinking about it. In fact, I was just doing so when you arrived. I knew her suggestions were wrong, but I was trying to think why. I couldn’t come up with an answer.” He looked up at Ricky. “Luckily, you did.”

  The steward poked his head in the room. “The council is assembling. When you are through with the young man, I will have them enter.”

  “They can come in now,” Wako said. “Valian, you can sit at that desk.” The king pointed to a cleared desk close to the head of the table where the chair was a little larger and a little more ornate with gold painting on the carved leaves.

  Ricky took a seat and made sure to sing a shield in case the Botoyan sorceress made an appearance. The councilors filed in. Their aides took places at the desks after conferring with their superiors.

  Wako looked over the assembled group. “I have one other to visit us today.” Wako looked at the steward standing by
the door and nodded.

  Ricky slipped his wand out of the case, ready to defend himself. A hooded woman walked into the room. Ricky couldn’t see her face. Her hands were shoved into the opposite sleeves.

  “My inspiration has arrived,” Wako said. “Come here and tell me what you wanted me to say.”

  The woman shuffled her way towards the king.

  “Go on.”

  Ricky tensed. He wondered if he knew her from the Rings. He would find out soon enough. He slid his chair back so he could jump up during their inevitable confrontation.

  The woman put her hands on her hood, that so far had covered her face. Ricky held his breath as she peeled it back.

  Ricky jumped to his feet. “Pira! What are you doing here?”

  King Wako laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. Everyone else in the room was in on the joke because the room erupted.

  She put her lips in a little pout. “I needed a distraction in the worse way,” she said, “and I decided to play a prank. King Wako was kind enough to play along.”

  “Oh, my splitting headache,” the king said playfully. His mirth continued.

  Ricky couldn’t help but grin. “Now you are fully protected, King Wako,” he said, “but not from her.”

  Pira walked to his side.

  “I hope you have no hard feelings. I agree I will need protection from this sorcerous woman in the future.”

  “Your intimation of the sorceress’s attentions were part of the act?”

  Pira’s laughter stopped. “What did he say?” she said to Ricky.

  “I can’t repeat it, can I, King Wako?”

  The king looked confused until he remembered their conversation before the council arrived. “No, you can’t at all. Please don’t. It would ruin Princess Pira’s reputation.”

  Pira pursed her lips and lifted her chin. “I will ignore your comments from here on out,” she said.

  The council looked entertained by it all.

  “If you two would leave us, I really do have a kingdom to rule,” Wako said. “We will have a dinner in your honor tonight, so you are commanded to stay.”

  ~

  Ricky sat with Pira in one of the castle’s gardens. He liked it even though it was more rustic and casual than other formal gardens, including Samira’s.