The Emerald Crown

by L J Chappell

  ‘What?’ Garran asked.

  ‘Here.’ Slorn led Garran and Thawn to the window and opened it. He studied the street below for a few seconds, and then pointed out a Human walking on the far side.

  ‘Is that man a mage?’ he asked them.

  ‘No,’ Garran said. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He doesn’t have a shaved head.’

  ‘And there you have it,’ Slorn laughed. ‘Even when I warned you, it still works. You think you can tell who is a mage and who is not because of the way they look.’ He turned back to Lanvik: ‘And that is exactly the same with these costumes: once people have seen them, that will be how they identify us. If we remove the costumes, we become someone different. Even better, if someone else puts a costume on then they become one of us.’

  The others had started spreading out the new outfits across the beds. Slorn picked up a tunic: ‘A few of these are special – bulkier – and that is because they have two faces.’ He rolled back the fabric – instead of a lining, the underside appeared to be dull linen. He pulled the tunic over his head, put his hands on his hips and smiled: ‘Now, you see a cheerful and talented minstrel.’ He removed the tunic, turned it inside out and pulled it back over his head. Now, he was dressed in a drab, working brown. ‘And now, you see a domestic servant – household or kitchen. Certainly not a member of the musical company that you saw a moment ago.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lanvik nodded. ‘The contrast helps – the colour’s so different.’

  Kiergard pulled off the tunic again, and asked, ‘Which one’s got the uniform? It needs to be checked.’

  ‘Here – this is Ubrik’s,’ Bane passed one of the red outfits to Ubrik, who changed into the disguised side.

  Kiergard Slorn stood with his arms folded and frowned: ‘It was supposed to be an Imperial uniform.’ He shook his head.

  ‘It looks alright,’ Lanvik said. As far as he could tell, Ubrik now looked exactly like one of the Imperial guards that he had seen around Darkfall.

  ‘No, it does not look “alright”. It is not at all convincing, even if it only has to pass a cursory glance. From up close, inside the Imperial compound, it will not convince people who see Imperial uniforms every day … people who are wearing Imperial uniforms.’

  ‘We have to do some work on it,’ Vorrigan agreed. ‘We’ll have a closer look through the others as well. There will be snagging and finishing problems which the outfitter should be able to resolve quickly.’

  ‘Yes,’ Slorn agreed, ‘but now we should run through exactly how we will do this. Master Wizard – you are key to this …’

  ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Mainly because you lack any musical ability. If we allowed you to play with us, then they would throw us back out onto the street before we had a chance to rescue anyone. Therefore you must take the part of our servant, our drudge, our retainer. That is why there is no costume for you.’

  ‘Also,’ Magda said, ‘you are the only Human, so you are immediately the most memorable of us. If you were on stage, they would stare at you and learn your features.’

  The plan, as Kiergard Slorn explained it, depended on them securing the use of a room within the servants’ quarters for changing and for stowing their props and costumes. That would give them a reason to pass through the guarded door a number of times.

  When they were playing their third or fourth number, Lanvik would explore, on the pretext of fetching water from the kitchen. He would take the opportunity to verify Bane’s supposition that they could easily access the kitchen, and from there the cells. If that was not the case, then he would check the direct route to the cells, through the staff and guard quarters.

  ‘And if they don’t let me go to the kitchen?’

  ‘Then act nervous,’ Garran told him: ‘act as if you might get beaten.’

  ‘And if that still doesn’t get you in,’ Kiergard Slorn added, ‘then let me know. I’ll come and throw some authority around, maybe beat you.’

  That was to be their general approach: if Lanvik encountered any difficulties, then he would call on the others. The Company’s act would include gradually changing their costumes, one by one, as their set migrated from exotic numbers to more familiar Arvedan songs. That would allow any of them a brief window to help, if their particular skills were required. They had several disguises hidden under the bright red costumes which would give them even more flexibility to deal with problems.

  Assuming they overcame any difficulties, they would release Vander of Arrento from his cell ten minutes before they were scheduled to finish playing. They had a spare costume for him.

  ‘You will sit with him while we play our final numbers,’ Kiergard Slorn said. ‘You must reassure him. If he starts to have doubts, then you must prevent him from doing anything rash until the rest of us are there.’

  ‘Anything rash?’

  ‘Like running away, or shouting for help. But don’t kill him: we need him alive.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘We all come in to collect our things, and he simply walks out with the rest of us.’

  ‘No-one will notice that our company has a different number of performers when we emerge with our bags,’ Bane explained.

  ‘And you don’t think people will be suspicious, with all that to-ing and fro-ing? With us wandering around at the back?’

  ‘Not as long as you are with us. They will recognise you as the Human, and barely notice members of the troupe in costume. We’re just there to help you carry things.’

  ‘What do we do if things go wrong?’

  ‘It depends how they go wrong – there are hundreds of things that might happen: far too many to plan for,’ Magda laughed. ‘But we are practiced and accomplished at this – we will deal with any problems that arise.’

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ It was the middle of the day – they had hours to wait.

  ‘If events unfold according to our plan, then we should be leaving early tomorrow, so we must buy supplies for the journey. Vorrigan, Menska and Ubrik should deal with that now.’

  ‘Why me?’ Ubrik asked, frowning.

  ‘To carry things, of course,’ Menska explained.

  ‘And Ethryk – you check on the wagon and the animals. Make sure we’re good to go before dawn tomorrow. The rest of us should practice: from yesterday’s efforts, we’re all a little rusty.’ They stood, and picked up their instruments. Lanvik went with them out of curiosity – to hear how well they played.

  After a word with the innkeeper, they found a space in the courtyard and then simply began to play. It seemed that their agreement had been provisional, as the innkeeper stood and watched them with his arms folded. He listened for a few minutes before nodding approval to Kiergard Slorn and returning to the front desk.

  It was immediately clear to Lanvik that yes, as they had told him, they played well enough to pass as professionals. They were all competent and some of them sounded highly skilled. After a few minutes a crowd had gathered to listen to them: they applauded after each song. Many tossed low-value coins into the open instrument cases that the Company had arranged in front of them.

  There was no dead weight in the Company – everyone was playing, and playing well. It was the same with everything else they did: everyone performed a role, and they were all comfortable in those roles. Kiergard Slorn had assumed that Lanvik would be useful to his Company as well, that he would bring particular skills and abilities. At some point Lanvik was going to have to prove him right.

  He reluctantly left them and climbed the stairs back up to their room. With the door shut, and the others playing in the courtyard, he had some privacy – some space to try and remember anything of his magecraft. He took his jacket off and tried to become calm: to still his breathing, slow his pulse and relax.

  If he had some skill with magecraft, then he felt it should be in his hands, not just in his head: like Tremano had said about playing instruments. But nothing had come to him so far �
�� there were no memories, no instincts.

  He let his hands move on their own, tried adding words and noises, did anything that occurred to him. He threw his arms from side to side, moved them dramatically and pointed at objects around the room: ‘Burn!’ he shouted at them. ‘Fly!’ ‘Move!’ ‘Open!’

  Nothing happened, but he tried again. And then he tried again, and again. He took a short break and then he tried again. Surely if he had this talent within him, then it would somehow manifest – it would show itself. Suddenly it would come back.

  There was a crash. One of his exaggerated hand gestures had caught a mug of water and sent it flying across the room. It had sprayed water across at least three of the beds.

  He cursed and tried to use some of his clothes and his own bedding to dry the spill.

  After that, he sat despondently on the bed. If he had ever had any kind of magical skills, then there was certainly no sign of them now.

  ‘Not working, eh?’ a voice said. Menska was at the doorway: he hadn’t heard her come in.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Your magecraft. It’s not working.’

  ‘You saw me,’ he felt his face burning.

  ‘No, but I heard you from outside the door. I didn’t know if it was safe to come in.’

  ‘Very wise,’ he chuckled and pointed to the dark, damp spots where the water had spilled.

  ‘Don’t let it get you down,’ she advised. ‘If your magecraft is going to return, then it’ll come back in its own time. The more you worry about it, the longer that time is likely to be.’

  ‘I just feel …’ He didn’t finish.

  ‘You feel you need to rediscover your skills to be useful. You feel you owe it to Kiergard.’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘If it helps, we all feel that way. We’re mostly misfits, but Kiergard has given us all a place here, in his Company, and we’re all so grateful to him that it brings out the best in us. We all try to be better than we really are, so that we’re not letting him down.’

  ‘But you all have something you can do: you all have useful skills.’

  ‘We have what we bring with us,’ she told him, ‘and we do the best we can. But it doesn’t need to be anything special. It doesn’t have to be magic: if your magecraft doesn’t come back, that doesn’t mean we’ll just dump you at the side of the road. It doesn’t mean we’ll send you back to prison. You’re part of the Company now.’

  ‘Thank you for saying that, but I wish I could add something instead of just tagging along after the rest of you.’

  ‘You’ve already added things,’ she told him. ‘Two weeks ago our Company didn’t have a Human, and now we have you. Just being who you are makes us better, gives us more choices and increases the range of work we can do.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘And unfortunately, if you’re hoping to recover your magecraft then you probably need a mage’s staff. That’s what all the stories say. So perhaps all we need to do is find you one.’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’ he laughed. ‘I thought Magda was supposed to be dealing with that?’

  Menska laughed as well. ‘Yes, she did say that, didn’t she? But she may have reconsidered. There are plenty of stories about people who have tried to do just that, to take the staff from a mage, and they all agree that it’s an extremely dangerous thing to do.’

  ‘You came after me?’ he asked. ‘Just to see if I was alright. Just to talk to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s a sort of “doctor” thing, and that’s who I try to be. It’s what helps me to feel that I belong in Kiergard Slorn’s Company.’

  ‘Well I’m glad you did. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And don’t get too fixated on regaining your magecraft: just try to be the best that you can be.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll try.’

  ‘Learn to fight,’ she advised: ‘Learn to play an instrument, and get stronger.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she smiled. ‘Just like that. Some of the others have decided to go and watch the sacrifices today. I don’t know if you want to go with them?’

  ‘Yes,’ he decided, though he wasn’t completely sure. Yesterday he had decided that the sacrifices were not something he wanted to see, but since then a part of him had regretted missing the experience. Throughout yesterday evening they had heard several of the pilgrims around them talking about what they had seen. None of them sounded as if they had particularly enjoyed being there, at least in retrospect, but all had agreed that it was a part of the Festival.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Menska saw his hesitation.

  ‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘But I think I will. Are you coming too?’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head.

  The others came in to pack their instruments away and pull on extra clothes before heading back downstairs. They set off at a brisk pace through the city. There was no need to wonder about the direction or to worry about getting lost since everyone else seemed to be heading the same way, mostly hurrying. Shortly after they had left the inn, the horn sounded – they would be among the last to arrive.

  Despite the throng of people – tens of thousands – the sheer scale of the stepped terraces ringing the cliff meant that it was easy to find a place where they could all stand together with a view across the bay. The little island was packed with animals now, and a few had already succumbed to the Daggerfish. The larger waves were washing right across the island, and the waters around it were a confused mass of struggling sacrifice, threshing fish, and a spreading frenzied mass of white foam and red blood.

  Lanvik stared on horrified as the area that remained above the water gradually shrank: larger animals were stamping on their attackers and on each other, desperate to get away but with nowhere to go. It had never occurred to him that cattle might scream, but they bellowed and shrieked in pain and fear as they were torn apart. He couldn’t help thinking that this was what would happen to Vander of Arrento, unless they rescued him this evening.

  Everyone around them was cheering, shouting their approval and encouragement – their appreciation for what was happening. There were Madarinn, Terevarna, Humans; young and old; men and women. Children had been lifted up onto the shoulders of their parents so that they could see better, just as they had when Tremano and Lisamel were performing. It seemed that many of the faithful had brought food with them: for those who had not, vendors pushed their way through the crowds, carrying trays of hot and cold snacks as well as the usual assortment of Darkfall souvenirs.

  Lanvik could feel passion and excitement flowing through the crowd: they were bound together by the spectacle they were witnessing. It was the behaviour of all the people around them that told them that this was normal and acceptable: given these alien experiences, this was the correct way to react.

  The Company had missed the start, but twenty minutes after they arrived the feeding was finished and the island was completely submerged.

  Nobody spoke as they walked back to the inn.

  3

  Late in the afternoon, they talked through the plan again. Lanvik felt that was mainly for his benefit since the others seemed familiar not only with what had already been discussed, but also with alternative, backup and emergency scenarios in case things went wrong. They had done a lot of work like this together, he guessed.

  ‘What happens if he doesn’t want to come with us?’ he asked. ‘What happens if he actually wants to be sacrificed? What do we do then?’ He supposed that they could hold a dagger to his ribs and threaten him. ‘How do you threaten someone who wants to die?’

  ‘With pain, of course,’ Bane said. ‘But we won’t need to do that.’

  ‘If there’s a problem like that then we’ll drug him,’ Menska explained. ‘We’ll take two preparations of the same compound – a powder that dissolves in water, and a liquid suspension that can be spread on a cloth and held over his mouth and nose. After that, he’ll appear intoxicated.
We’ll apologise on his behalf, and support him between us as we leave.’

  ‘Who carries those?’ Lanvik asked, worried that it might be him.

  ‘I do,’ Kiergard Slorn said.

  There was a rap on the door, and Ethryk came in. He had been absent for the whole morning and Lanvik had assumed he was tending to the animals and the wagon. From behind his back, though, he brought out a small stack of clothes and unfolded them on the nearest bed. It was an Imperial uniform.

  ‘I got it from one of the guards,’ he explained, proudly. ‘He looked about Ubrik’s size.’

  ‘That was not clever,’ Magda said sharply. ‘If he’s missed, then the Imperial compound will be on alert. They’ll have more security than otherwise and they’ll be more careful.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Ethryk laughed. ‘I didn’t leave him indisposed in any way. I bribed him: told him that I wanted the uniform as a souvenir and made it worth his while. So when he returns to work, I’m sure he’ll find some convincing reason why he no longer has his uniform.’

  ‘This is good,’ Ubrik said, pulling it on and adjusting it – it was a fair fit, though a little tight over his other clothes. ‘Can you do something with this? Unpick the other one and sew it in?’ he asked Tremano and Karuin: they were making a number of minor alterations to the new outfits.

  ‘Tricky,’ Tremano shrugged, ‘but easier than trying to make the one we’ve got look more convincing.’

  ‘It’s a straight replacement, under the red,’ Kiergard Slorn nodded.

  ‘We start in the blue, and come out in the red?’ Ethryk checked.

  ‘Yes. We have a red set for Vander. It’s about Garran’s size, so hopefully he’s not really large. Or really short.’

  After that, time seemed to drag through the early evening.

  Lanvik found himself pacing around the room, and then pacing around the inn. The others were on edge as well – there was less light chatter and laughter than usual. Mostly they lay on their beds, or sat and cleaned their instruments and their weapons.

  ‘You should eat,’ Thawn recommended. ‘It will help you to relax.’