War Bow

by P. S. Power

  Anders could see that one.

  “Well, you did try to kill me, so that’s probably a simple truth. A mistake though, clearly. People can change, so I’m willing to listen to you. Later though, if it serves? I truly do have some things to see to, before I can eat.”

  That got a nod, and a bow, which he returned. The Baron walked away then, allowing Countess Rainly, who was hanging back, her dress a soft white with pink and red roses hand stitched into it, moved in and taped him on the shoulder with a folded fan.

  “My chambers, after the meal. Don’t forget. It’s important.” The last bit was nearly hissed, it was so urgent seeming.

  Then she left as well, trying to catch up to the others who were already being seated for the meal. Anders went back to Depak Sona’s room and knocked gently. Daren was still there, drinking some tea that it seemed Depak had gotten for him. It was unsweetened, from the scent of it.

  Daren looked up at him.

  “You killed him. He didn’t... You know that I...”

  Anders didn’t bother hiding anything from Depak. He’d probably been told the whole thing as Daren knew it, already. Besides, he’d already explained what Agorn being found guilty would mean.

  “We stopped a war. True, killing you would have done the same thing and it was possible that they might have accepted your reasoning for your actions, without your death being required as payment for it. Ambassador Fromet seemed willing to do that. Now, don’t kill anyone else. Killing is wrong and you aren’t an evil person. You’re more important here right now than Agorn was, in case you ever wonder why he died for your crime. You have to make certain you earn the life he bought you.” He sounded hard and cold.

  It matched how he felt.

  Depak Sona watched him, closely, until Daren left, about ten minutes later. After being told to never, ever, speak of the topic again.

  When he left, the older man sighed and sat back down, having gone to the door.

  “I worry for you, Anders. It is a hard thing, to kill like that. Most would be feeling more than you seem to be. Is that the impact of Farad Ibn Istel on your soul, do you think?”

  He shook his head and spoke softly.

  “I do not think so, Depak. I really don’t. I think that the part of me that lacks care for others is me. Anders. I fear that without Farad, I would be a monster. Someday, at least. Except... Clearly, I’m one of those already. Perhaps you should have killed me, those months ago, when you considered it.”

  He wondered if it was a thing that they should revisit, given everything. Where Anders Brolly went, death seemed to follow, any longer.

  Depak Sona didn’t agree with him, but he also didn’t respond at all.

  Chapter fourteen

  Anders felt slightly bemused, walking out of Countess Rainly’s room as he was. The meeting hadn’t taken long and despite how she’d presented things, the woman had simply tried to give him coin. A decently large chest of it, in fact. Though, the woman had hinted that she, bodily, might be on offer instead, if he preferred. Or, if he wanted, as well. That had been a trap, of course.

  After all, if he turned her offer of company down directly, it could be seen as a rejection. On the other hand, if he took as much coin as she was offering, in payment for the work he’d done when she was ill, then everyone else he’d aided would, or at least could, be held to that same standard. Princess Peri could have paid such a fee, for her daughter, but not for the servants there as well.

  In the end he’d simply bowed to her and suggested they use the coin to send things to the front. Goods and armor, for those levies who couldn’t afford such things, normally. The woman had chuckled at the idea, but allowed it was a good way out for him. She had seemed a bit hurt that he didn’t want her, until he’d explained that he had orders from King Mathias and Prince Robarts, as well as a few others, to avoid such things until he was older. Again. He’d mentioned that to her before, but for some reason the woman seemed to be reassured by him that it was his real reason, not that he found her lacking in some way.

  That had allowed him to remove himself from her room without making an enemy, at least. True, now he had to come up with several wagon loads of armor and probably weapons for people, as well as hire a driver or two, who might be willing to take such things to the front with winter approaching, but that could, he assumed, be done, if he hurried and asked the right people.

  The next morning he rose early, not planning to go in to the fletchers shop, just yet. After all, while he needed to do his part there, he wasn’t certain if his time might not be as well, or better, spent making up some armor first. He wouldn’t be able to fit it individually, of course. Besides, even if he might not be a welcome sight in the Ambassadorial hall that day, after the events of the day before, that didn’t mean he could fail to show up.

  Anders tapped on Depak Sona’s door first, figuring that he, at least, would speak to him. When it opened, the man looked a bit annoyed.

  “Ah! Anders... Could we meet later in the day, do you think? I...” Before the man could finish the statement, Duma Sett pushed past the fellow, grabbing Anders up in an embrace. One that was friendly, instead of hostile as he might have imagined, after murdering a man on her very doorstep like he had.

  “Master Brolly! We were just plotting, in regards to you. Come in. If that suits, Depak?” She was dressed for the day, as was the Master Magician. Both were in finery, though in the lady’s case, it was a simple gown that glowed with an ethereal light, due to illusion being used.

  Depak’s clothing wasn’t as impressive, being a robe made of silk, with a complicated pattern woven into it. Those looked like flowers, made out of gold and silver thread. The difference was that the clothing Depak wore, if taken off, would stay the way they were. Duma Sett’s outfit would, after some time, revert to normal.

  Anders was dressed in silver mail, his gambeson changed to look a nice yellow color. A thing that seemed out of place, perhaps, being a bit too much like the colors of Yanse. That had more of an orange hue though. What he wore was meant to simply seem happy, even if he didn’t feel that way at all.

  Bowing to both people, being important like they were, he stood and then entered, not waiting for Depak to explain that he was trying to have a secret meeting. Apparently one where his name had come up.

  He grinned at the Duma, since she’d always gone out of her way to be kind to him.

  “Now, plotting? Against me? That sounds like an adventure, doesn’t it? Do you need your rooms cleaned? I should see to that. Daren might not be up to the work today. I think I frightened him yesterday. That hadn’t been my intent. Things don’t always go to plan.” He tried to seem ashamed of himself, over the death that had taken place. At least part of him, the old man inside, honestly felt that way.

  Anders, the boy, was actually just glad that Agorn, who had once angered him, was gone. On the good side, even he could see it as going beyond what was good or right.

  The lady nodded then, seeming a bit sly, as she looked at Depak from the side of her eye.

  “Yes, rather. Master Depak is taking you away to his homeland, where you are a Prince? That’s a rather heady thing to place on offer, isn’t it? I was trying to work out how to bribe you over to the side of Modroc, instead. Eltha has rather failed at seducing you. At least that she’s been willing to tell me about. Is there anything you want? I’ve wracked my brain for months and haven’t come up with anything at all. It's most frustrating. How are we supposed to influence you, if you don’t want anything?”

  He blinked at the idea, but then realized she was correct. Not that he truly didn’t have any needs at all. It wasn’t as if he were still a monk-like historian that lived in a literal cave, dug into the stone of a mountain side, in the dry lands of Istel. Those old habits, the simple way that he’d lived an entire life, had influenced him greatly, it seemed.

  For instance, he didn’t understand coin still, as a concept. Even the trading he’d done so far in this current life had mai
nly been him watching as others had done the work. Part of that was a lack of concern over worldly things, such as wealth, of course. Farad just didn’t understand why people would bother with such and Anders had never learned to be truly greedy, always having enough provided to him.

  Looking at the woman, he shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t worry too greatly, as for my new found position as royalty. Doesn’t the Sula have something like a hundred grandchildren?” He glanced at Depak, who still had short hair on the sides of his head, being well and truly bald on the top. His mustache was thick, but still tidy and well groomed, rather than flowing past his mouth on the sides.

  After a moment, seeming amused by the concept, the man let a grin come to his face.

  “Oh, at least that. Perhaps more, by now. When you have forty children, that kind of thing tends to happen rather rapidly. Though I’m nearly certain that the plan is not to woo you to our side, directly, but rather to impress Prince Alpert with our fellow feeling and openness that way. Then, through him, to gain favor with the King here.”

  Frustrated, the Duma waved her hands.

  “I know! What do we have that way? Princess Sweyn is doing well enough, with the younger Prince, I suppose. He’s been gone for months, though. I heard he saw combat, on the front of the war here? He wasn’t injured, was he?”

  Anders blinked, then simply told the truth.

  “He was in the thick of it, several times. He’ll have a nice scar on his face from it, where a blade managed to get up and under his visor, but there was no real damage done at all. Other than bruises he was untouched, otherwise.”

  The woman leaned in then her gaze almost stern.

  “I also heard that you were there, in the fighting. The hinting there was that you did rather more than wave a pointed stick at the enemy. Can you tell us of that? No one else will, for some reason. Only that each of those battles were won by Istlan.”

  They locked gazes for a moment, as it became clear, eventually, that he simply wasn’t going to speak on the matter. She snorted at him, after a long while.

  “Fine, then. I can see that pressing you on that topic won’t work. If not, then how about that tale you concocted yesterday? That some unknown servant killed Natan? Not that it wasn’t a real enough point. I’d heard about what had taken place with the serving woman, Alice. The man had been imprudent that way. That can end in death, even for those of high stature. Still, why would this fellow have killed him? Is he a relative of Daren Willet? A fast friend in some way that I don’t understand?”

  He nearly lied, since the story needed to stay straight and aligned in a certain way. He was simply too tired to be bothered at the moment, so he shook his head.

  “No. I simply didn’t like him. The man looked down on me, for being a bastard. It was a hostile thing and he’d hit me once, not that long ago, pretending it was an accident. So, instead of killing Daren for what he’d done, I placed the blame on an innocent man, to get rid of him. Ambassador Fromet had seemed willing to let the matter go, regardless, but this way Daren might be allowed to carry on with his tasks here.” Unless Duma Sett required Daren to die for his actions. That could happen, of course.

  From behind him, near the closed door, there was a soft gasp. Anders closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing, and dropping into a trance. It was clear, as soon as he bothered to check, that Mistress Colm stood there, invisible again. This time he tried to figure out why she was there. The feeling was one of spying, but without vast purpose to it. She didn’t seem violent at least, which was good. He probably couldn’t beat a dagger to the neck, if she caught him unaware. No one there would be able to, most likely.

  No one else seemed to pick up on the fact they weren’t alone, which was odd. Except that everyone there was probably a bit off their game, thanks to what had been going on in the last days and months.

  Anders did pick up something interesting, which was that Daren had gotten the poison from her. It made sense, given there were only a few places for a castle servant to get that kind of thing from. He didn’t call her out, since that could look like King Mathias had set her to watch the foreigners. As far as he knew, that simply wasn’t the case at all.

  Since there was no danger, he took a deep breath and blew it out, puffing his cheeks up a bit.

  “I know, I probably shouldn’t cover up who the real killer was like this. Daren is a friend of mine though. Agorn was probably as close to a personal enemy as I’ve ever had. At least among people who let me know about it. Now, I’m planning to send some mail and gambeson to the front, along with some other goods. For the levies? They really aren’t prepared for winter. They need cloaks and warmer clothing. I was hoping you could go over some things like that with me, Depak Sona. My skills there are fairly basic, so far. If you have any ideas for that, let me know, Duma Sett?”

  The words got a sour grin from the lady. She was pretty enough, really. Her face looked youthful, and didn’t sing of it being magical in nature at all. Her look was darker by far than the ladies of Istlan, who were fair to the point of being pale, by comparison. It left her with an exotic air there, he supposed. She had pretty eyes, which were a dark brown color.

  That and her current expression left her seeming playful, instead of mean.

  “The only way I can help is to come up with clothing and goods for men stuck off in a frozen wasteland? You do know that I’ve never even seen this mythical snow that I’m told is coming, do you not?”

  Anders could commiserate there. He’d seen it, of course. It was in his memories. Farad never had. Not even once in his ninety odd years of life. Then, he was from far closer to where these two came from than the boy inside of him was.

  Standing, he bowed.

  “You said you were looking for ways to win me over, not that it had to be easy for you. Now, I need to go and see if Ambassador Fromet and the others here require my head for killing a man in front of their doors like I did, yesterday. That... I should have managed the situation better. The truth is, I couldn’t give Agorn a chance to declare himself innocent.” He waited then, for the people in front of him to pass judgement upon him.

  They both did, though in different ways. Depak seemed honestly disappointed, though he was hiding it fairly well. Duma Sett merely nodded, as if she fully accepted that Anders would back his friend over a man he didn’t like at all. Even if he’d managed to be half insane about the idea.

  He walked to the door, bowing himself out, being extra polite. When he passed Mistress Colm, he let his right hand move out, pretending to add a flourish to the move. Instead he caught her by the arm and tugged once, sharply. Then continued moving. She stopped for a moment, he thought, then pressed into him at the door, so that she could leave with him.

  Once the door, a sturdy thing made of heavy wood, carved with a simple, but refined design, Anders whispered.

  “Walk with me. You have some time before the invisibility fades?”

  He moved away, and was two halls down, away from any guards, when the woman answered.

  “About half a glass. It isn’t that precise, but I get some hours, in the normal course. I have a counter potion of course, which takes a few moments to work, after consuming it.” There was an almost imperceptible sound, like a gulp, but Anders didn’t think she’d consumed poison or anything. Either that potion or more of the kind that allowed her to be unseen.

  He nodded at her, or at least where her voice had come from.

  “That’s handy. I should get you to teach me how to do that kind of thing. Work with herbs and potions like that? If I don’t have to have you killed first, of course.” He grinned. “By the way, everyone here knows you’ve been doing this for some time. We have wizards about, after all. Master Tolan worked it out the very first time you were in his presence and then kept a watch on you ever since. He probably even knows who your master is, or employer. I haven’t gotten that yet, but I’ve been distracted by other matters. Well, you heard this latest mess, in there. With D
aren? You gave him the poison, didn’t you?”

  She made a sound that seemed almost sassy, compared to the soft tone of even a moment before.

  “Hmph. Yes, almost certainly. He came to me for a sore tooth, some months back. The potion I gave him for the pain and to help him heal will kill if you have more than a few drops a day. He knew that, since it was too dangerous not to tell him about it. If he kept even a portion of the bottle I provided, and gave it in a drink to that man... Well. That would do it. I suppose it’s possible it wasn’t that, but what else would he use? Many of the best remedies can also kill, which is a risk of my kind of magic. Everything has drawbacks.” She waited then, as if for him to keep the conversation going.

  A thing that wasn’t kind of her, really. Anders had no clue what to ask her, other than what he had.

  “So, who are you working for? Ganges? The King of Yanse? My mother?” The last was a jest, but the woman inhaled so sharply it kind of gave things away.

  When her voice came the tone was a bit sharp.

  “You know? Also, I’m no traitor. Yes, I’ve collected some information, in return for certain favors, but I wouldn’t work for our enemy like that. I don’t know anyone named Ganges. That’s a southern continent name, isn’t it? Is he one of the Modroc?” There was a pause then. “If that’s a man’s name. I mean no offense, if it isn’t.”

  Anders shrugged, his face a bit bemused, he had to figure. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the information he sought from the mind of the invisible lady next to him. It was, as she’d claimed, all right there. Lyse had been working with her, using her skills to spy on others there, where she couldn’t be. Trading sexual favors with the woman to get her to bring her bits of information that no one else could get.

  He could have pretended to be shocked, but his mother had flat out told him that women approached her for such things. In a way that he’d understood at the time meant that she did them. Pretending it was a scandal now would be a waste of his time and energy.