Fletcher Read online

  That wasn’t the case. Not unless these people could be placated or stopped by the stunning recitation of a story to two. In that case Anders was going to prove quite able.

  “It is not a thing I can do. So, I have come to beg aid from you.” He bowed again, and held it, going low.

  Depak took the clothing that were held out. And switched back to Istlan.

  “We have some hours then to ready you. Clothing… You will want to alter the color of them. The cut would take finer work than you have skills for yet, being new to such things. First, you should empty the water and then the chamber pot. I will lay the clothing out as you do that.”

  Anders scurried then, to get the chamber pot first, and started toward the door.

  The ambassador waved at him, his mustache twitching.

  “Using your magic. Constant practice, from this point forward. It is rushed but needed. Do the water first, since it will smell less if you spread it all over the room. Quickly now. Correctly as well. Do it simply first. There is no time for complexities.”

  That it turned out was a bit messy. Thankfully the water left the room in a single stream, heading to the hill visible past the wall. Flung in that general direction at any rate. So did the ripe contents of the chamber pot. Then the Magician set him to learning fifteen other spells, all made up as he worked. Not all of them did the job needed. Thankfully, that didn't end things in too poor of a fashion.

  His clothing wasn’t destroyed when he turned them a strange yellow color. He’d been attempting a nice black. The words for it were similar. He’d used the correct one though. Anders was certain of it. When he started to make a face at the coloration, the Magician just nodded.

  “You must spend more time focusing on the particulars you wish for. This kind of thing happens at first. Meaning you are either a beginner as you have said or truly clever in your trickery. I can’t tell which just as yet. Honestly, it is probably the latter. No true child with a day’s practice would be able to do even this.”

  The words were in Scara again and muttered, softly.

  Then, even if the goal was to teach Anders to do things, rather quickly, the Magician muttered over the ugly yellow cloth, making what seemed like green stitching show on the left sleeve. It was not small and were mystical symbols which described a simple spell.

  Then the rest of the fabric was made to shine, just a tiny bit, as if the outfit were all in silk, instead of the mid-weight canvas it had started as. The feeling was the same when he touched it. Carefully he went over the symbols, not using their magical names.

  “Move-man-now?”

  “Exactly. We can practice this here. In the other room, so that I will be knocked onto the bed only. This is not a deadly or dangerous spell working. A simple one that if used correctly will knock one unprepared back some steps. Possibly to the ground, if you move them hard enough. The words on your sleeve are only there to remind you of this, in case you forget under pressure. Come.”

  They hurried to the bed chamber, the large thing already made for the day. Depak Sona stood next to it, the backs of his legs pressed to the dark blue coverlet.

  His voice was calm, though deeper for some reason.

  “Use the spell. Envision fully the parts of it, as you have practiced. Point with your finger to indicate the direction of movement. For now, do that straight away from you. When you are ready.”

  He didn’t need to look at his sleeve, thankfully, the words came out, as he focused on the mental image for each. A sense of pushing for the first word, the location object being Depak himself, then the time he wanted it done. There was pointing at the same time, moving straight back.

  “Lod-hom-fen.”

  Part of him had expected the man to be tossed back bodily, perhaps over the bed to the far wall. Instead he simply fell over, as if pushed by a boy about the size of Anders. He rolled a little, standing up instantly.

  “Again. A bit more focus on the first portion.”

  That caused the thing to be harder. It still wasn’t anything that a good shove might not have managed. It was done from ten feet away though, which was significant, he had to think. On the fifth try, the ambassador moved away from the edge of the bed and set his feet.

  “Again. Harder now. As if you wish to move a person who does not wish to go.”

  That took more concentration. The words were smooth, flowing out quickly.

  “Lod-hom-fen.” When he pointed, the Magician slid back on the stone floor, his feet staying under him, even as his boots made a noise like leather against rock. There weren’t even other directions given after that, just him moving back forward, over and again. Until on the thirtieth or so repetition the man was pushed back far enough that his feet couldn’t hold him up well. It was more of a stumble, than knocking him down.

  “Very well. That would, if used in that fashion, give you time to keep two or perhaps three people from attacking for a time. You should change, then come with me. We have a meal to attend. You should have food, after the effort you just put forward.” He waved to the other room, where the clothing was. “That was a full day’s practice and more, for one new to such things. It cannot be helped, since these are troubled times.”

  The goal seemed to be for him to change, which the Magician didn’t stay to watch. That would have been hard, since he wasn’t used to removing his clothing in front of other people. These folk weren’t that casual in such ways at all, either. Still, most wouldn’t have thought anything of changing in front of one who had the same gender as themselves. It was simply that Farad had lived most of his life without others around him in a close fashion. His people did not swim, either. Interestingly, Anders could do that and planned to when the summer heat came.

  After he was clothed, he called out, so that the Ambassador wouldn’t be stuck in his own bedroom for too long. When he exited his clothing was a new color, this time being an intricate jade with birdlike patterns woven into the thing. It was a robe again, instead of being trousers and a tunic. The thing was nice and truly exotic at the same time.

  They hit the hallway at a fast walk, Depak Sona moving the wrong way to get food. At least as far as Anders understood. When they stopped they were in front of a chamber that was not too far from where they started. Inside the room were perhaps twenty people, most of them standing, ready to serve those who were sitting already. Most had food in front of them but not all. The only real issue was that the King was at the head of the table, his Queen directly next to the man. Then there was Prince Robarts and his attractive wife, Peri. Across from him were Alpert and Aisla, with Prince Erold one seat down.

  There were several places left, already set, it seemed.

  The King stood, bowing to them. This time it was real, not just a head nod. Anders went with the second courtly bow, as Depak bent over with his palms upward. Meaning he didn't think the King was an evil being of great power. A subject that hadn’t come up at all.

  “Please, come and sit with us. Both of you. We were just speaking of you, in fact, Depak Sona. There is an arrival today, from Modroc. They have been spotted on the road and should reach here shortly. Princess Sweyn of Modroc is coming here to marry Prince Erold. They are of common age, with the girl being only two years his senior. We were wondering if you’d like to join us for that meeting?” there was something quietly sly about the words.

  Depak moved to the table, nodding once as he sat, gesturing for Anders to move in next to Erold. The Prince didn’t seem all that enthused by the arrivals coming that day. A bit drawn and somewhat shocked seeming.

  When they were in place, with no one calling for his removal at all, the Queen spoke.

  “I was thinking that it might be nice for Anders to stand with you, Erold. I spoke to him earlier and asked if he would. That…” She seemed strained and not at all evil about what she was doing. It was more as if she might be denied for some reason.

  Quietly, the King nodded.

  “What can this boy do, if things go… Wrongly?
” It was said while looking at the Queen, whose eyes sought the table. Most of the others did the same thing.

  Not Depak Sona, who smiled.

  “Ah? He can do some simple magics. Push attackers back with his will. At need, set them ablaze or move all the water from their body, which can both kill, though given his level currently would probably irritate more than anything against a committed foe. Anders Brolly is still slow that way and might die if true battle comes. It will give space for a true defense to take place, if it must happen. This is a thing he knows and yet he is still willing to stand with your young Prince.” There was a subtle smoothing of his mustache, to hide his smile. “I do think that it is most likely only going to be a rather strained meeting of young people. Even if harm were to come, it won’t be here. Still, Anders Brolly stands ready for it.”

  The response to that speech was strange then. Prince Alpert sat up and looked at his child. The one he wasn’t supposed to admit to having had. That was done with some small pride. The others went back to eating if they had food already, as plates were placed in front of himself and Depak Sona.

  Princess Aisla looked down the table with a frown. At the Magician, not him.

  “We’re putting children in danger now? How much magic can he know? He only started learning yesterday. It takes years for that kind of knowledge to be passed.”

  It sounded for all the world as if the Princess was readying herself to fight with the Ambassador, over a boy that she didn’t know much at all. Rather than argue with her, the man waved his left hand, and drained the cup of juice in front of him dry. Then he set the empty vessel in front of Anders.

  “Fill it with water please. Now.”

  He blinked, collected his thoughts and spoke as soon as he had it ready. It wasn’t done quickly, taking half a moment or more before he spoke.

  “Od-neg ot neg-fen.” He drew a line with his finger in the air, from the bottom of the glass to below the top. It filled, at about the same rate of speed that the bucket had when the Magician had done it earlier. Again, the room warmed, if not nearly as much.

  The others clapped, as if it were a trick or amusement. Except Princess Aisla. She went open mouthed at the move.

  “That had to take years to learn…”

  There was a laugh then.

  “Ah, dear great-granddaughter… That did not take even moments. It is a trick. I did the magic just now and can do so at a distance of up to, say, as far as I can see clearly? It took some skill to pull off, I assure you. This way we may have a magical guard upon Prince Erold in case of treachery, that none will truly think to guard against. More could be done if I were to stand there myself. That would seem odd, I imagine?”

  Rather than get upset at the lie, the King clapped his hands together.

  “Thank you then, for thinking of us, Depak Sona. That should serve well, then. I’m still not certain we should risk you in this Anders Brolly. Brave of you to go, anyway.”

  It was clear that he was supposed to say something then. The trick was that nothing at all came to mind. Letting his lips move without him would be foolish, so he thought for a moment.

  “I have to think that it will probably be fine. It may well be that, having heard how brilliant and pleasant Prince Erold is that this Princess and her people are wisely moving to assure marriage with no other plan in mind. In which case we only have to make certain that you don’t stammer too much when you meet, Prince Erold.”

  There was a nudge then, which had to be improper at the table of the King. It worked though, getting him pushed back a bit, the Prince rallying enough to smile instead of seeming like he was going off to face his execution.

  “Oh, of a certainty then, Anders. You know that if she comes in, looking like a creature of legend and ready to eat me for her mid-day that it won’t be you having to wed her. I gather that makes being light about it far easier?”

  There were shocked gasps, which came mainly from Princess Peri.

  The woman spoke in a tone that seemed honestly scandalized.

  “I’m told she’s lovely, how can you think otherwise?”

  The Prince sighed then.

  “How? My own parents have still refused to allow me to see the picture of her that was sent. They claim it of poor quality, as if I could not see past that? What else am I to ready myself for, given that?”

  It was clear that a battle of sorts was brewing. One that shouldn’t be aired in front of poor Ambassadors or innocent boys that had no business being there. That was broken up by Depak Sona, who waved a hand for attention.

  “Could we look at that picture? I may well be able to show what was being placed on the canvas at the time, using my skills?”

  The King froze, then waved at the back of the room.

  “In the main drawing room. The picture of a girl in black wood frame.” That was enough for a man to scurry from the space, as they all started to eat.

  Anders did that as well, calmly copying what Prince Robarts was doing, using the same fork for his eggs, which were cooked hard. It took skill to not mimic him directly. It worked well enough that no one stared or seemed concerned with his skills that way at all. The rest of them seemed to be using similar rules for it. Small bites were taken, food balanced just on the edge of the fork or spoon. A knife was held in the off-hand and used to adjust the food being balanced, instead of fingers or other items on the plate. There was bread as well, which was cut into bite sized pieces for eating, the fork used for getting it into the mouth.

  In all it was very different than anything he’d done before. He also had to stop, since if he didn't his middle was going to start rebelling against the meal.

  The Queen noticed, seeming concerned.

  “Is the meal not to your liking? We could have something else brought to you.”

  He smiled.

  “It’s lovely, Your Majesty. I’ve been down with a small illness and this is my first meal after not eating for several days.” He stopped there, refusing to mention being sick at the table. Anyone’s, ever. Even Anders agreed on that score. There were simply things you didn’t mention in polite company.

  The Queen seemed to understand that as well, nodding a bit.

  “That’s fine then. Forgive my prying indelicately.”

  Thankfully the picture was delivered then. Even if not finished with his own meal the Magician stood up, moving to the back of the room. The object itself was only about the size of Anders’s two hands put side by side. Enough to show a face, which from the glimpses he caught of the thing was all that was there to be seen. The style of it truly was poor, as for showing what the girl looked like. It was made of blobs and angled lines of paint, with deep shadows and was, very clearly, designed to hide her true appearance. At the same time, the colors were as muted and drab as Prince Robarts had reported to them.

  This time the spell wasn’t a matter of a few rapidly spoken words like what he’d done a while before. Instead the Magician chanted things with little to no hesitation, for nearly five minutes. It was very clear that he was using many words that hadn’t been in the basic magic book that had been lent to Anders for his starting out in the world of magic.

  The last words were identifiable, giving the time the spell was to run. That was fen ot ban. From now until a week later. Then it would stop doing whatever it was that might happen.

  When Depak Sona brought the thing over, it was handed to Prince Erold directly who pushed his plate, still filled with food, well out of the way. The image that showed was amazing. The blobby picture had clarified until it was like the girl’s face was only behind glass. Almost as if one could reach out and touch it. More, it moved slightly. Giving it a sense of life. Showing what had happened as the Princess sat for the painting.

  There was a groan from the boy, next to him. That part was also explainable. She really wasn’t pretty. Not even average. Her nose was a bit snubbed and stubby, which might have been cute on another face. Her jawline was hard though, like a strong-featured
man. On her left cheek there was what seemed to be scars from a burn. It took up about a quarter of her face. The hair was short enough to give the impression that she might have been a guardsman. It looked like bristles at the top, and the sides were nearly totally removed.

  The black frame was passed around for everyone to look at. They didn't comment on it at all, though more than one of them appeared to be stricken.

  The others looked at it, moving it down toward Anders, with the King closing his eyes.

  “How accurate is this, do you think, Depak Sona?” It was clear he was worried over the answer. Possibly fearing mutiny from his youngest child.

  Just as Anders was handed the picture, the girl in it smiled a bit, instead of sitting primly and looking stern. That really did help, getting the thing held out for his friend.

  The ambassador waved a hand at it.

  “That is what the painter saw as he worked. Nothing more or less.”

  There was a groan then, from Prince Robarts.

  “We cannot ask this of him then, Father. Some other way will need to be found. War is likely, regardless.”

  That got a sad look from the King, and a nod.

  Anders held the picture out, in front of Prince Erold. Then he shook his head at the other boy, slightly.

  “I disagree. You should meet her first. Look how she fights to keep from smiling here. A person cannot help their appearance. This one might hide a good soul within. Besides, she’s nearly here anyway. She might take one look at you and flee back to her own land.”

  It was a mean thing to say and got him hit, if not very hard and on the shoulder. Then the young Prince nodded.

  “Agreed. It would be too rude and uncouth not to at least meet and talk with her. I’m certain that going this far from her home is uncomfortable and frightening to her. We should…” He stopped talking.

  No one else did for a while, with most of the others not even eating. Prince Alpert did, even as he looked over and down at the painting of Princess Sweyn. Princess Peri had to be excused from the table, since she’d started crying. The sobs faded as she fled from the room.