A Clash of Magics

by Guy Antibes

  The house lights were magically produced and dimmed down as lights in reflectors pointed toward the stage. A man wearing bright green and purple clothes entered and told jokes, half of which made no sense to Trevor. Lissa giggled at a few of them, and Reena’s sense of humor was similar to Trevor’s.

  “It is a frame of reference thing,” Lissa said as she had to speak over the thunderous applause for the comedian.

  The curtain opened to an orchestra. It was larger than the orchestra Trevor was used to in Presidon, but about the same size that Jeruld Kantak used in Jilgrathian productions. Some of the instruments were quite different, and when the music began, Trevor smiled, but it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. There was no blending of music. It all sounded discordant to him. Reena seemed to tolerate it well enough, but then as Trevor listened, he could sense some similarities to Jarkanese music.

  He sat back and let his mind wander. First, he thought about what kind of music was played in Brachia, but Mara’s singing was like everything else he had grown up with. He hoped Mara’s life was everything she expected after her long absence. He thought of Keith Gorman and still couldn’t generate any misgivings about appointing him as his regent.

  Trevor considered writing him a letter explaining the Jarkanese concept of beneficial equilibrium. It was an easy enough model to understand and to use. If he had more time in Parkintown, he would seek out the Dryden bishop and see if the clerics could reinforce the concept with the people of the town.

  A song a few numbers later drew Trevor’s attention. He recognized the basic tune that they began to play. Part of it was made into the Presidonian national anthem. The music sounded odd, but the music was unmistakably the same. It almost made him homesick, but then he wondered what kind of anthem the Brachians had, since he was now a Brachian duke. He suddenly felt as inexperienced as a Brachian as he had as a soldier when he received his first commission in Red Forest Garrison.

  Trevor left the theatre in an unexpected state of contemplation. They walked back to the inn and ate a late meal in the common room. Trevor let the two women do all the talking as his mind was intent on how to handle Listenwell.

  Brother Yvan caught them when they were about to leave. He sat down and told them of his meeting with the seer.

  “The king suddenly started making some odd decisions a few months ago,” Brother Yvan said. “It sounds like a familiar story. Taxes are about to go up. There are rumors of gold missing from the Okoran treasury, which is very large, by the way.”

  Trevor leaned forward. “Did you tell him about our previous experiences.”

  “In some detail. I know the seer. She and I trained at the same time.”

  Reena’s eyebrows lifted which made Brother Yvan smile. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She will escort us to the palace for a short audience. The king has heard of you and that is why we will be able to squeeze into the king’s schedule. We are the king’s last appointment before lunch.”

  “No royal banquet for a former focus?” Reena said with a smile.

  “The king no longer eats in public. That is one of his new quirks.”

  “Is there a queen?” Lissa asked.

  “There is, but her schedule has become full in recent months,” Brother Yvan said. “It fits all the indications of a Maskumite intervention like you saw in Brachia.”

  “Then we go into action tomorrow morning,” Trevor said. If there was nothing else, Trevor knew he was excellent at thinking and acting in the moment. He suspected such a moment to arise just before lunch the next day.

  ~

  “King Bingador is a little high strung, which isn’t a particularly good trait for an agricultural country, if you know what I mean,” Morra Deepen, the Seer of Okora said to the four travelers.

  Trevor looked at the lump the bandage made on Reena’s arm, visible through the sheer cloth of her gown. “But he likes seers and focuses?” Trevor asked.

  Seer Deepen gave Trevor a sly smile. “Seers, not so much, but Focus Reena has a reputation, especially now that she has been deposed.”

  “I wouldn’t use that term,” Trevor said. “Replaced is better. She did nothing wrong and left her position as a better focus than when she started.”

  “Trevor is right. Reena didn’t leave Jarkan in disgrace. I asked her to accompany me to Collet since the Order has the opportunity to understand the role of focus better than they ever have,” Brother Yvan said.

  The Okoran seer cleared her throat. “I accept the gentle reproof,” she said with a smile. “I will ensure that is clear with King Bingador if it doesn’t come up during your audience. You won’t have long.”

  They approached a huge lobby as large as a cathedral nave littered with chairs. Trevor guessed a thousand or more supplicants could be seated in the room. There were food carts against three of the walls and huge double doors filled up most of the wall of the third. For a small capital, there were no shortage of those seeking the king’s favor.

  “We won’t have to wait long, so come this way,” the seer said as Deepen showed them through a guarded door, much more modest in size.

  The guard nodded to Seer Deepen as the five of them slipped inside and walked through a passageway lit with magic light. They emerged into a normal-sized foyer, but the intricately carved wood paneling told Trevor that King Bingador probably used this passageway to enter the throne room.

  “In here. This is our conference room,” Deepen said. “I haven’t met with the king in ten days, and that is also a recent development.”

  Trevor looked around the windowless conference room. There was room for ten people around a sumptuous table inlaid in a complex design. A large chair, presumably for the king, was at one end.

  “I’ll fetch some refreshments,” the seer said, but the door flew open, and two people entered the conference room.

  Trevor looked at the king wearing a crown and the other man, a Maskumite from his appearance, followed at his side. Did the Maskumite magicians learn how to whisper into their victim’s ear at some academy of dark learning?

  King Bingador motioned for all to sit. “I don’t have much time,” he said. He walked behind Reena’s chair and put his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t feel any differently than any other person.”

  She turned and looked up at the Okoran monarch. “Have you ever put your hands on Seer Deepen’s shoulders?”

  The seer smiled and nodded. “He has. My king didn’t find whatever he was looking for then either.”

  Reena seemed to relax. Trevor looked at Brother Yvan who seemed amused by it all. The king took his chair and steepled his fingers. He looked at Reena. “You were exiled from Jarkan?”

  Reena shook her head. “If someone told you that, you are misinformed. King Turgul had known the previous focus, Mino Kawis, for years and felt more comfortable with him as focus. I was released from my duties and am free to come and go from Jarkan as I please. Brother Yvan, the former seer of Presidon,” she took Brother Yvan’s hand, an act that made the cleric blush, “has asked me to consult with the Order of Seers in Collet.”

  “You seem to be good friends.”

  “A looked-forward-to happenstance of my release.” She gave the king a brilliant smile.

  “She speaks the unvarnished truth, Morra?”

  The Okoran seer nodded.

  Trevor saw the magician whisper something in the king’s ear. He turned to Trevor. “You are the exiled prince of Presidon?”

  The magician looked at Trevor and was shocked that Trevor met his gaze. “I am. You are correct that I am exiled. Any release from Presidon was implicit with the promise that it would be my life should I return. This is Lissa Caspur, the daughter of Seer Caspur of Viksar.”

  The king nodded to Lissa. “Morra told me that you are a gold-level magician.”

  “Not quite,” Lissa said. “I lack formal recognition.”

  Another whisper was uttered into the king’s ear.

  “Your father approves of a hi
gh-ranking magician in the family?” the king asked.

  “He has told me not to get my hopes up, but my father believes in me,” Lissa said.

  “Good, good,” the king said.

  “And will you introduce us to your court wizard?” Trevor said.

  The king looked puzzled. “What? I have no court wizard.”

  “He is at your right side.”

  Bingador turned to look right and put his hand out. “There is no one—” His hand brushed against the magician’s robe. “There is someone here!”

  Trevor rose from his chair and got between the magician and the door. He pulled off Lissa’s filmy cape and threw it over the magician. As the cape settled on the magician, it disappeared. A bolt of lightning shot out at Trevor who, lacking a sword, tackled the magician and pummeled his face until he fainted. The body gradually appeared.

  The king backed up as he stood, knocking his chair over. “No!” He covered his mouth and looked at Morra Deepen. “I thought he was my father’s ghost!” The king’s face was white with shock.

  Trevor set the king’s chair upright and let the man sit.

  “Brother Yvan can tell you what is happening in the world,” Trevor said.

  The cleric presented the king with a summary of the story in a short time.

  King Bingador stared at the inert figure on the floor and then he looked at Trevor. “How were you able to see him? I’ll have your charm while you get another made. I thought you would die from that awful bolt.”

  “I have a single magical talent, your majesty,” Trevor said. “I’m immune to magic. The magician spelled himself invisible, and the spell doesn’t fool me. Magical fire, lightning, wind, magic-propelled arrows — all have no affect.”

  “I’ll have some of that immunity, then.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that, but I learned something right now. An invisible watcher can be detected by throwing a covering over them,” Trevor said.

  “For a moment,” Brother Yvan said.

  Trevor gazed at the intruding magician for a moment. “I wonder if shadows will also be made invisible.”

  “We won’t be finding out in my court,” the king said, but Trevor guessed they would, eventually.

  After a brief discussion on what to do, a courtier poked his head into the conference room. “Your next meeting starts in a few minutes.”

  Trevor quickly told the king about their experience on the Northern Road.

  “Seer Deepen can tell me more about that later today. I will attend my meetings this afternoon, but seeing as how events have moved past me, the rest of today will be spent determining how to undo all the damage I might have caused with ‘father’s’ bad advice.”

  ~

  The four travelers met with the king the next morning, and were told the king would send an escort to take them to the Grillan border.

  “My ministers are extremely upset,” King Bingador said. “I can’t say how much Okora owes you, but you will accept free passage through my country with a little extra to get you to Collet in Ginster.

  Trevor kept quiet and let the king, Brother Yvan, and Reena talk for a bit. Trevor didn’t think the existence of the magician would be publicized, but Seer Deepen had told them that the magician had committed suicide in a jail cell before they could question the man. The Okorans told Seer Deepen that all they could tell from the magician’s effects was that all evidence pointed to Maskum.

  How far could the tentacles go? Trevor thought. Had the Maskumites infiltrated every country of the world? He didn’t think so, but Trevor guessed there were plenty of tentacles.

  They needed a wagon for the additional goods the Okoran king had given them as a reward. Lissa agreed with Trevor that they didn’t want to be slowed up by having a wagon in the party. There were inns enough so they could travel lighter.

  “We can go through the goods tonight,” Brother Yvan said. “Then we can sell the wagon and what we don’t need.”

  “Gold is portable,” Lissa said. “At least we can take a packhorse.”

  “As long as that is the limit,” Brother Yvan said.

  They traveled to their next destination and sold all kinds of gifts that were worth a surprisingly large amount of gold. Trevor was glad that the horse they chose to carry their possessions wouldn’t be unduly burdened.

  Ten royal guards and an officer accompanied them through the country along the same road that they had used traveling to Tiralina. The officer spent time with each of them getting a full picture of their experience with the brigands and with the constable’s office. When they reached the crossroads, they still headed north until they stopped at the Grillan border.

  “We will be gathering evidence in the town where you stayed just after the unfortunate attack occurred,” the officer said. The man suddenly grinned. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but the king never paid attention to the Northern Road before. He always said it was too far away from the throne for him to be concerned about it. I will admit, that wasn’t my opinion. Thank you.”

  The detachment saluted and headed back.

  “Another good deed by Dryden’s messenger,” Brother Yvan said.

  “It was all four of us,” Trevor said.

  “Then it was a good deed by the four of us, but nothing would have happened if you hadn’t seen that Maskumite magician,” Reena said. “Your Dryden appointment has already achieved wonderful results.”

  Trevor growled. “I haven’t really accepted anything yet. I want to be the duke of Listenwell, but I agreed to think about being the messenger.” He glanced at a frowning Lissa.

  “There is no ‘think’ allowed. Dryden has done the calling, not the head seer,” she said. “First things first. You complete your messenger duties until you are no longer needed, and then you can return to Listenwell.”

  Trevor sighed. Everyone was right, and he knew it. He thought back to his tower in Tarviston castle and realized he was getting close to returning to the attitude he had before he met Desolation Boxster. That wouldn’t do, he told himself.

  Chapter Five

  ~

  G rilla was a country with a paucity of resources. It sat on a plateau with thin soil and rocky terrain. There were undulating hills, and long ago, whoever ruled Grilla decided it would grow apples and grapes. From then on, Grilla evolved into a primary provider of alcoholic products from ciders to wine, and later, distilled spirits using grains grown in eastern Okora.

  With the intense specialization, Grilla’s culture had developed into the opposite of Viksar’s. Where Viksar was disciplined, Grilla was lax. Alcohol production was lucrative, Brother Yvan had taught Trevor when he was younger.

  Trevor hadn’t had the chance to travel through Grilla from Viksar. He would do so now, sampling the unique wares of Grilla as they went. Since they were on an extension of the Okoran Northern Road, they were in the midst of many travelers.

  “Nothing is as good as Zinkel’s ale,” Brother Yvan said, “although the stuff brewed in Parkintown comes close. However, for harder spirits, Grilla produces the best for the volume they make. You probably didn’t notice, but most of the wine sold in the surrounding countries is produced in Grilla, but the best vines are produced in the southern half of the country where it is warmer. We will be traveling through apple country.”

  “Don’t other trees grow here?”

  “None produce the kind of money that apples do,” Brother Yvan said with a smile.

  Mostly apples. Trevor remembered the apples raised in Bergartin in Viksar. “I can understand that. One of the villages Volst and I traveled through had an apple festival.”

  “Every day is an apple festival in northern Grilla,” Brother Yvan said. “Wait until we are at the top.”

  The trip up the escarpment separating Grilla from Okora took less than an hour. At the top, Trevor expected to see a panorama of orchards, but instead they plunged into a conifer forest. The road was well-traveled and they soon emerged into orchards that went on
for miles.

  The first village was a jumble of half-timbered buildings with wooden shingled roofs. The rough cobbles added to the atmosphere. Most travelers stopped at the first village, but Brother Yvan urged them forward.

  “Tourists spend the night at that village and end up paying exorbitant prices for everything,” the cleric said.

  They plunged back into the orchards after passing through a set of fields that ran around the village. It seemed that there were slivers of conifer forests between the apple orchards. After awhile, the smell of apples didn’t even register on Trevor. They stopped at a small town. It wasn’t as picturesque, but the place looked more like a place where the townspeople actually worked.

  They chose one of the four inns on the main town square, and Trevor was glad to finish the long ride from Okora.

  “Three days to cross Grilla,” Brother Yvan said as they clustered around the registration counter waiting for the innkeeper to arrive.

  “Are we going to visit the king?” Lissa asked.

  “No,” Brother Yvan said. “Tiralina is a short detour, but Cloove would be more than a week out of our way.”

  The innkeeper showed up. “One night? Five nights? There is a festival this week.”

  Brother Yvan smiled. “How many weeks a year are there festivals?”

  A grin split the innkeeper’s face. “You have traveled through Grilla before?”

  “A few times,” Brother Yvan said.

  “Most weeks we have something going on if the weather is good, Dryden willing.”

  “How is your chairman?” Brother Yvan asked.

  “Nothing changes much in Grilla. We use all the land, make our products, and the chairman sits in his chalet overlooking Cloove valley watching it all happen.”

  “No new taxes or strange rulings?”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “We are all integral pieces of Grilla’s greatness as long as we can make our own piece of the apple pie, that is,” the innkeeper said, still grinning.

  “One night. We are expected in Jiksara, and this lady,” Brother Yvan nodded to Lissa, “has an anxious father to visit.”