Peril & Profit

by M. H. Johnson

  "The most sacred mage's law is that they can never be forced to raise their hands against one another, thus killing each other and destroying their own gifts at the whims of mundane nobles. This is how they feel, even if they would never tell me that out loud," Elissa confided with a smile. "But individually, I don't think wizards can own their own lands, or at least they can't inherit titles, though I suppose they might be able to buy and till a farm, but that could get tricky, as every lord would expect rent in the form of a share of crops, but no mundane lord is allowed to accept fealty from a mage, so it gets complex. Put simply, Sorn, I know wizards cannot inherit a formal title. As to owning their own land, I don't think they can do that either, but I'm not sure."

  "Oh great," Sorn muttered, feeling no small amount of irritation at bureaucratic technicalities that seemed bent on making his life miserable, no matter what realm he happened to find himself in.

  Elissa, noting his tone, raised a delicate eyebrow in polite enquiry. It was, Sorn noted, a rather pretty eyebrow at that. "Is everything all right, Sorn? You seem troubled by the revelation."

  "I'm fine. But tell me, Elissa, what if our ship's wizard doesn't belong to the guild or brotherhood as you put it? In that case a mage of this college couldn't compel him, could he?"

  Elissa looked both surprised and concerned. "In truth, Sorn, I have never heard of such a thing. A lad or girl is found to have talent, is apprenticed, and becomes a guild member when they have finished their apprenticeship. I have never heard of any exceptions, save for herbwomen, and they belong to their own guild of healers."

  Sorn frowned, then nodded. "Herbwomen? Yes, I made the acquaintanceship of one when she agreed to help treat our fallen friends. She didn't seem to think that our ship's wizard could help with her healing magics, though she did appreciate the offer of assistance."

  Elissa smiled. "I understand that they are not really compatible magics, and that for the most part, both guilds politely ignore one another. Unless a wizard gets sick, of course. Though wizards may have some alchemical balms or salves at their disposal, I understand that it is nothing compared to a healer's gifts. Still, I am puzzled. Are you saying that you have a wizard on board your ship who is powerful enough to blast multiple ships to cinders, yet has never been indoctrinated into the guild? Such a thing would seem terribly unlikely, at least here in Caverenoc."

  "Well," Sorn hedged, "perhaps our hypothetical wizard is from a very far away land and they have no such guild there."

  "Ah," Elissa grinned, enjoying the game. Her face lit up like a precious flower, and Sorn had to focus very hard to hear her words over the curious roaring in his ears and the pounding of his heart. A futile battle, he feared, as he lost himself to her captivating gaze.

  "Then that would have to be a distant land indeed. I am sure such a wizard would look very different from us as well. Like the bronze skinned peoples to the south, or the ivory skinned northern traders. And I'll bet if he spoke his accent would be so thick it would sound like guttural dogs, and one could barely make out a word he said."

  "Well, not necessarily," Sorn hedged, hoping his distraction wasn't too obvious. "Perhaps our ship's wizard had a very good tutor."

  "Perhaps. So tell me, Sorn," Elissa began, as if seeking to begin a fresh topic for discussion, "what about where you are from? I know that Famil is an independent duchy comprised of a number of holdings of various nobles who refer to themselves as lords, one and all. The only one with a formal title is your ruler who titles himself a duke, though I don't know why he doesn't just refer to himself as king, for that is what he is by rights and responsibilities."

  "Hmm," Sorn began, not so sure about the duke himself, "maybe he is honoring tradition. As for myself? I stayed with Lord Canterbier for a time, in whose service my cousins were esquired. As just and fair a lord as I have ever come across in Famil." Sorn could say that honestly enough.

  "It sounds like you think quite highly of him. So, what was it like growing up in his demesne? How would you compare it to living in the city?"

  Sorn smiled. "It was both peaceful and beautiful. The time I spent there I doubt I shall soon forget. I practiced swordplay and gained an appreciation for the life of trade."

  Sorn spoke then of growing up in his own home, the name of which he begged off telling, under the guise that he would not want to shame them with his tales. Nor was he on the best of terms with his family, as he put it, allowing her the impression that he had been politely exiled, perhaps an unwanted younger son. He spoke of the antics he and his cousins had gotten into what now seemed like ages ago, yet was more like a matter of weeks, at most. Elissa enjoyed hearing about his cousin's sillier moments, and seemed to sympathize with him having been saddled with their care.

  For her part, Elissa shared her own stories of life growing up in the palace, and Sorn felt both a fascination and kinship of a sort. Being both privileged and feeling somewhat isolated, she wasn't quite sure where she fit in. She was not her older brother, whose absence was felt, though where he was at present was not mentioned, and she had no clear set path laid out for her. It appeared that she was eventually expected to marry into an advantageous alliance for her family, and this was not something she was looking forward to by any means. Dread seemed a more apt description of what she felt at the prospect of an arranged marriage to a stranger she had no feelings for, though she was discrete enough to speak of it in only the lightest terms, and softly, lest her father overhear.

  Sorn's heart went out to her, for no female, he thought, should ever be trapped in a loveless mating with one who did not win her heart, or at least her admiration. In fact, the very idea of a female being forced to mate with one she did not desire was a concept completely alien to Sorn's people, and an extremely offensive one at that.

  Yet as much as he found himself naturally focusing his attention upon his most captivating dinner companion, he still could not help but sense the tension pervading the dinner entire. Like a faint miasma, Sorn felt that heavy pall of worry that laid over the proceedings as a whole. For whatever the topic of discussion in the brightly lit feasting hall, it was but the flimsiest of concerns next to the steady encroachment of the siege that could well spell their doom, even now establishing itself in the gloom of night, just a short distance outside the city's walls.

  Eventually the dinner ended, and it appeared that Halence and the king were going to retire to the antechamber once again to talk. Sorn moved to follow, but Halence raised a hand albeit smiling as he did so, the king remarking that as Sorn seemed to have enjoyed Elissa's company over dinner, he would be pleased if Sorn saw fit to enlist her company for a time and take a guided tour of the palace.

  Sorn, wise enough to sense a polite dismissal, was happy enough to accept the consolation, considering the trade more than fair. If anything, he was quite pleased to have the opportunity to engage Elissa further. For though her captivating gaze, wry intelligence, and sweet smile filled him with an unnamable ache, he knew as well that her company was a balm for that curious longing. He would indeed, he realized, be quite sorry to leave Elissa's company when he eventually returned to the ship.

  "Come, Sorn," Elissa said, emerald eyes twinkling with excitement, "I will show you something far more interesting than a boring tour of my ancestors' portraits." She then proceeded to lead him through a number of elegantly appointed halls into a discreet little passageway that was almost stark compared to the main hallways. "This is how the servants get from the main halls to the kitchen. These are what we call the servant's roads. They also lead to a side entrance that isn't quite so heavily guarded." With that, she brought them through several more passageways, past a number of servants who gave them startled looks as they popped into view before schooling their faces once more into bland politeness.

  "Is my lady lost?" asked one older gent politely, though Elissa had lived here all her life.

  "Why not at all!" She replied in her most officious voice. "This is a surprise inspection of the kitch
ens. As Father says, delegation is the tool of the intelligent, and thorough diligence the tool of the wise."

  "Oh, of course!" responded the servant, now all obsequious gestures. "Come, I shall lead the way!" With that, managing to look as haughty as Elissa was acting, he led the way past any number of other servants who avoided the leading servant's pompous officiousness like an oncoming wave, too wise to interfere with that expression, knowing that it could only bode ill for someone. Elissa gave a wink to Sorn. "I wasn't expecting this," she said with a grin that once more kindled an unnamable ache in Sorn's chest. "Oh well, let's run with it."

  Soon they were in the hot bustle of the kitchen proper, confronted with the spectacle of the cook. A large, red-cheeked, imposing looking women, she held a spoon up high like a conductor, orchestrating the baking of bread, pastries, and late night soup for all those nobles who were still adjusting to the mere three course meals the palace was at obligations to endure as a matter of policy in these troubled times, the lead servant confided. Sorn nodded solemnly even as Elissa's eyes twinkled with mirth.

  "Alice! You call that a soup? It tastes like you boiled cabbage in seawater! Parsley, tomatoes, and pepper are needed here. What's wrong with you, girl?"

  With that chastisement, the embarrassed young soup girl that had so caught the head cook's ire scampered off, presumably for ingredients, more likely to be away from the imposing head cook. At that moment, spoon still raised, she caught sight of the officious servant with Elissa in tow. She gave a polite bow, as much as her bulk would allow, combined with a curious look, as if wondering what could possibly have dragged Elissa down into the bowels of the palace.

  "Her highness wishes to inspect the kitchens," the bustling servant haughtily declared, obviously enjoying the borrowed authority that allowed him to be even more of a pompous busybody than he no doubt already was, Sorn couldn’t help thinking.

  "Indeed I do," Elissa said smoothly to the now alarmed looking head cook. "Tonight's dinner was particularly delicious. And I absolutely adored the garnish with the sea bass. Tell me, dear cook, how did you manage to make a mere three-course meal so tasty and filling?"

  The puffed up servant looked a bit taken aback, but was too schooled to show his disappointment. Instead, with a bland smile and a polite bow he made his way off, saying, "I hope that I was of service to you, my lady."

  The head cook went from flabbergasted to giving a wide smile, delighted to have been paid the highest compliment she could aspire for, a personal visit from a member of the royal family. Sorn and Elissa, sharing many wry looks and smiles, then spent the better part of a half-hour being regaled with cooking lore, having any number of family secrets animatedly passed on that neither one of them was ever likely to put into effect.

  "Have you ever considered writing a book on cooking?" Sorn asked at one point. "That way we could treasure your recipes forever, and never worry about forgetting a single ingredient."

  The head cook gave Sorn a thoughtful look at this. "You know, normally we cooks are adverse to giving away too many secrets, but you're right. If nothing is done or recorded for posterity, our secrets could be lost forever to the detriment of all. After all, what was the point of sweating and toiling to make the perfect soup, if the world can never delight in our masterpiece? It is a worthy matter, young sir. I shall give it some thought."

  "Again, master cook, the orchestra of your kitchen provides our hall with a symphony of culinary delights! We bid you a pleasant evening." With that, Elissa left a blushing cook behind, grabbing Sorn firmly in tow and leading him out a side exit where various assistants threw out the slops to a small pen of animated pigs. Large, musky, though not too dirty, Sorn was happy to see. If anything, they spiked his appetite immensely, but he held it in check. "I think they like us," Sorn managed to say.

  "No, that's not it," Elissa corrected with a smile that near took Sorn's breath away. "They like everyone. They are conditioned to expect food whenever they see people coming out this exit. Come, Sorn, this way." Still holding his hand, she walked quickly down a path that led to what turned out to be a hedge maze, making any number of twists and turns upon entering that would have left Sorn completely disoriented, save for his near perfect sense of direction. Still, it had been a complex affair with any number of turns, and Elissa had never slowed for a second.

  Still leading Sorn firmly in tow, they left the hedge maze and strolled through another fifty yards of well-manicured lawns, and Sorn found that they were before the massive wall that guarded the city proper.

  "You see that?" Elissa said, near breathless with excitement. "That is perhaps one of our city's greatest achievements. It rises forty feet high and is twenty feet thick. The walls themselves descend into the bedrock. No enemy force, however strong or clever, has ever broken through."

  "I believe it," Sorn said, also breathlessly, though not from their fast pace, nor from witnessing firsthand the scope and majesty of the massive wall before them, however impressive the man-made structure indeed was.

  "Come," Elissa said, "the stairs up are this way." She led him up the stairway past a startled looking guard who nonetheless gave a hasty salute as they made their way up to the top of the wall reinforced with battlements, no doubt to give defenders cover in the event of an enemy assault, even as they rained havoc down upon assailants below. "Look," Elissa's voice was hushed as she led him over to the crenelations.

  Sorn blinked and shuddered, captivated by the spectacle of what looked to be a thousand stars in the fields below. Glimmering lights deadly in their beauty, the campfires of a huge besieging army some half a mile away. This time Sorn did find himself breathless at the spectacle before him. Such a massive force, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of men. The conquering army of an empire in the forging. Here, before his very eyes, a saga was unfolding. History was being made.

  That part of him that reveled in the world's writing out the saga of its people on the palate of existence before him had its abstract appreciation quenched as it truly sunk in that for the first time he was not reading accounts of battles of old, wherein the mortal players were dust and memory. Rather, this was taking place at this very moment. And the outcome was uncertain and the tale did matter, very keenly to the people who were playing it.

  This wasn't about the forging of some abstract glorious people. This was a massive army getting set to overrun a peaceful city whose people he had met, laughed with, dined with, and befriended. Perhaps, he thought, as he gazed upon the wistful countenance of the beautiful girl still holding his hand, someone he had found a special connection with as well.

  "There are tales," Elissa began, speaking softly. "There are tales brought in from the refugees who sought refuge in our city. It is said that the army out there calls itself the Reforging Blade of the Lost Empire. And that they are finding themselves once again. Presumably, they will not rest until the entire continent is under their dominion. Which of course makes this, the northernmost tip of the continent, as rich as our city is, a prized objective indeed. It is said also that they have wizards in their employ, that they strike at night with balls of pulsing green flame that explode into swirling firestorms on contact, burning flesh to the bone, and shattering the morale of whole regiments. Men who before stood strong are scattered and broken like terrified children by the power of these mages, only to be ruthlessly mowed down by the regiments of soldiers you see before you, Sorn. Slaughtered to their last man."

  Elissa's haunted gaze swept over the sight of the massive force below. "They leave the cities they take over intact, but supposedly all men must prove themselves possessing some necessary talent to the running of the captured city, and those that cannot are shipped off, presumably as slaves, and are never heard from again. Even those that can stay are no longer free men, but 'servants of the Empire'. The families are also ordered to offer their daughters up for marriage to the soldiers and officers stationed in the city."

  Elissa shuddered with a chill that had nothing to do wi
th the balmy weather, and Sorn found himself gently squeezing her shoulder, giving what comfort he could.

  Her luminous eyes turned to him then, and she gave him a gentle smile before continuing. “One would suppose this better than simple rape and enslavement, that some modicum of respect was given, but any number of girls, once filled with hope and joy, are now broken shells of what they once were. They come with tales of brothers and uncles taken away to copper mines and never being heard from again, while they themselves are forced to marry brutal husbands who used them cruelly until they could stand it no longer and ran away, often with what survived of their families, all of them fearing retribution."

  Elissa's ebullient voice had turned bitter and cold. "These monsters invade our lands, butcher our people, enslave those not found 'worthy', making indentured servants of everyone else, and bond our women to men they despise, forcing them to endure unending rape and degradation. How I hate them, Sorn. How I hate them!"

  Sorn's heart ached upon seeing the glittering tears Elissa's eyes could no longer hold in check, and he held her tight, protectively, as she racked quiet sobs against his chest.

  "I am sorry," she whispered moments later, her head still against his chest. "I don't know what came over me. I guess I just hide myself from the dread I feel most of the time now. I just try to bury it, to push it away. But I fear, like that terrible force out there, it will not be denied." She gazed up at him then with a mysterious smile, eyes beautiful, sparkling for all their tears, and Sorn felt a curious silent roaring echoing through the caverns of his mind. His heart was hammering, though he knew not why, and he felt himself spinning, dizzy, though he was perfectly still. Almost as if he was falling into Elissa's beautiful emerald green eyes, he was hardly surprised to find his face next to hers, their lips suddenly pressed in a sweet, gentle kiss.