“They thought they were finished….” Quaos said dramatically. She was telling the story to Kayli and Edjica, the only children currently in the Magiary, but Aniya and Devrin were listening just as intently. “But then, a miracle happened. Hundreds of seahorses came up and surrounded them to protect them from--” The story was interrupted by a thunderous pounding at the door.
“No, don’t stop!” Kayli protested.
“I’ll get it,” said Devrin, already on his feet. “If you get interrupted they probably won’t get to bed till midnight. You or Aniya can tell me what happened, later.” He strode down the corridor to the front door. It was storming too hard for him to be able to see anything through the peephole, so he opened the door.
The man on the doorstep was not dressed for the weather, and his clothes were soaked and ragged; his face was dirty and sporting ragged stubble, his hair unkempt. Devrin thought he must be a beggar, until he spoke. “Is there a woman named Quaos here?” he asked. His voice had a hint of Sarcish accent, under the desperation.
“Possibly,” said Devrin with caution. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Iaedan. Quaos is a friend of mine, and she’s in danger, though she probably doesn’t know it.”
Devrin studied the man carefully, then nodded. “All right, come in.” He led Iaedan inside.
Quaos was just finishing the story. “And she married the prince and they lived happily ever after.”
“And then she killed him,” added Iaedan.
Quaos gave a bark of a laugh that was cut off when she recognized Iaedan. She stared at him in shock. The children were not amused. “No!” cried Edjica, and Kayli also looked stricken.
“Don’t worry, he’s joking,” Aniya assured them. “They loved each other very much and lived happy and peaceful lives, and never had to kill anyone again. Now go to bed.” With only a few token protests, they went.
“Iaedan, what have you been…? what are you…? What happened to you?” Quaos asked.
“They’re after us,” he told her.
“And that explains it all!” said Devrin
“It does, actually,” Quaos told him sharply. “How close are they, how many are there, and who’s behind it?”
“Close. Lots. King Evrich, who eventually emerged as the demon’s heir.”
“Since this is you talking, by ‘lots’ and ‘close’ I assume you mean armies that are about to descend on us at any moment.”
“That’s about right,” Iaedan admitted.
“We have to go tell Malexandra.” Quaos led Iaedan toward the stairs, but stopped at their foot. “Can you wait down here… just in case?” she asked Aniya and Devrin. They’d never heard her sound scared before, and they agreed anxiously.
“Who exactly is coming?” Devrin asked.
“Armies, apparently, from Sarca, to arrest Quaos for regicide.”
“Right, of course. Well, while we wait to fight off armies by ourselves, what did I miss in the story? I don’t want to die without knowing.”
“Fine, it’s not like there’s anything better for us to do. Basically, there was an epic battle, with the girl and the seahorses and all the creatures of good on one side, and all the creatures of evil on the other side. Quaos went into great detail on the descriptions, but I don’t really remember exactly. Anyway, they were losing and then the prince rode in with an army behind him and joined the fight, and they defeated their enemies and got married and lived happily ever after. Until she killed him, if you believe Quaos’s friend,” she added with a smile.
“You have to admit, in real life it would be more likely than a happy ending.”
“Come on, Devrin, even you’re not that cynical.”
“I’m not saying that people killing each other is always more likely than them getting along, but royal marriages don’t tend to work out, if one of the people wasn’t born royal and it’s a love match rather than being political.”
“They do sometimes!” snapped Aniya.
Devrin was about to continue the debate, until he saw her expression. “I thought you and Skyler were just friends.”
“We were! And then we were practically enemies, and now that we’re friends again, well, I don’t think we are just friends.”
“I don’t even want to think about giving romantic advice, but you do need to remember that 98% of the country hates you.”
“I know! I know! I didn’t say there was any way it could possibly work out--” She froze. “He said ‘armies,’ didn’t he?”
“Yes… what’s your point?”
“Armies aren’t going to march through the capital of Majardea, right under Skyler’s nose, and knock on the front door. They’ll come across open country and arrive around back.”
They rushed through the house. Aniya reached the back door an instant before Devrin, and flung it open.
Iaedan had not been exaggerating. A full army stood facing the building. The rain and wind didn’t seem to faze them in the slightest. A single, armored man rode forward, holding up a scrap of white cloth that was nearly blown out of his grasp.
“Turn over the criminal, Quaos of Sarca, and we will leave you in peace!”
Devrin thought of trying to stall, pretending not to know who they were talking about or saying they didn’t have the authority. He glanced at Aniya. She gave the slightest shake of her head, turned to the soldier, and said, “Hell no!”
The man rode back to join the other men in front of the house. He said something, and they rushed towards the Magiary.
Before they could reach it, a shimmery, transparent wall sprung up around the building. The army hesitated. One of the soldiers touched it, tentatively, then tried to ride through it. It stopped him as surely as if it were made of stone.
“Let’s go see what the plan is,” Devrin said, and they closed the door and went upstairs.
A strong wind blew through the room when Devrin opened the door to the top of Malexandra’s tower, and he saw to his surprise that despite the weather, one of the large windows was flung open. Malexandra faced it, concentrating intently on something, and Quaos stood on the window ledge, facing outwards. Drops of rain battered her and flew past her into the room, but no one seemed to notice. Iaedan was asleep in an armchair in the corner, and they could sense the sleeping spell laid over him.
“…can’t let innocent people take the blame for what I did!” Quaos was screaming into the storm.
“No!” cried Aniya, and before Devrin even realized what was happening, Quaos leapt.
They rushed to the window. They could barely see Quaos’s crumpled figure through the storm, but it was clear that she wasn’t moving. The shimmering wall disappeared as Malexandra joined them at the window, but the army stayed where it was.
“How could you let her…?” Aniya demanded.
Oddly, Malexandra smiled. “Surely you can’t think I would have let her kill herself.”
“But… she jumped.”
“Breaking a fall is one of the easiest things to do, magically, you know that. And Quaos is a good enough actor to play dead quite convincingly. We just need to take her inside before they decide they want her drawn and quartered, or some such thing.”
Devrin began to laugh rather hysterically, and a tear rolled down his face, and he rushed to the stairs. Aniya and Malexandra hurried after them.
Malexandra stopped them at the back door. “Wait here. If either of you go outside, you might give it away.”
Devrin would have protested, if he hadn’t known she was right. Aniya took a tentative step to follow Malexandra outside, but Devrin grabbed her arm. “Do you really want to risk her life on your ability to act as though she’s dead?” His voice was not his usual sarcastic tone but something darker, and Aniya stayed inside.
They waited tensely, both aware that Malexandra was facing down an army who would quite possibly insist on taking Quaos’s “body.” She wasn’t dead, but that could only mean she wasn’t dead yet.
Finally, the door opened. A gust of wind and a shower of rain flew in their faces, and then Malexandra came in, Quaos floating at her side, looking dead.
As soon as the door closed, she popped up and jumped down to the ground. Relief flooded over Devrin and Aniya. “We thought you were dead!” Aniya said.
“I’m sor-” Quaos began, but before she could finish her sentence Devrin embraced her fiercely, and kissed her. It might not have been best of kisses, since Quaos was drenched and shivering, and her near death was on both their minds, but it lasted a long time. Aniya stared at them, then fled. Malexandra had already slipped away.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Devrin said finally. “I didn’t even know there was anything to lose, not like that.”
“That makes me even more glad that I’m not really dead.”
“Was it horrible? They could have killed you.”
Quaos nodded. “I would have jumped for real, if I’d had to. I’m just glad I didn’t.”
Showing posts with label Malexandra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Malexandra. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A Kingly War
Quaos was surprised by the sudden appearance of an elderly woman in the middle of Malexandra‘s room, but only for a moment. “Good disguise,” she said when she realized the toothless old woman smelling of sewage was, in fact, Malexandra.
“Alas, the smell’s real,” Malexandra said. She removed the spell and returned to her normal appearance.
“Are you alright? You look… drained.”
“Nothing a few day’s sleep won’t cure. Unfortunately, that’s a luxury we can’t afford right now.”
“You found what you were looking for?”
“And then some. Get Anonymous.” Malexandra hesitated. “And tell him to bring the king.”
*****
King Skyler had been in the Magiary once before, and even in that dire emergency, he had not exactly been made welcome. So when Anonymous told him of Malexandra’s summons, he knew it was serious.
A tall girl with cropped black hair met the two men at the door of the Magiary. She introduced herself as Quaos, and led them up into the tower.
The room stank. Malexandra was sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously and looking exhausted. Anonymous went up to her, waved his hands around, and the smell disappeared.
“Wow, I wasn’t aware you could do anything practical,” Skyler told him. Malexandra stifled a laugh.
“I’m sorry about that; I just got back from Balirmind and I spent most of the day in the sewers, and I’ve had more important things to worry about.” She looked at Skyler. “They’re preparing for war.”
“Against us?”
“Yes.”
There was silence.
“Can Majardea survive another war against them?” Quaos asked. “I didn’t live here yet, during the last war, but I heard it was… close.”
“No,” Skyler admitted. “That was only three years ago, we’re still recovering. If we were attacked now--it’s not quite a sure thing that we’d be defeated, but even if not… another war would take its toll.”
“Is there a reason they’re attacking?”
“It’s because of what happened with your crown. The thieves that stole it used it to destroy a Balirmindian plantation. That wouldn’t be enough to start a war, except that it was owned by King Codroy’s nephew, and he was killed.”
“Could we give them the thieves?” Skyler suggested.
Malexandra shook her head. “Even if you could find them, and capture them, there’s no guarantee it would work. They blame you; it was your crown, and a Majardean subject who used it.” She looked at the paper she’d been writing on, “I’ve been trying to think of some way to stop it, but there’s not much. We could kill him, maybe.”
“Killing kings isn’t easy,” said Quaos. Skyler looked at her.
“You might not want to talk about that,” Malexandra warned her.
“What, it’s not like Majardea was on the best of terms with Sarca under their old king.”
“That was you?” Anonymous asked incredulously.
“The point is,” Malexandra tried to bring them back to the subject at hand, “Having Codroy assassinated might prevent the war. Except that, as Quaos said, it’s difficult, and his son is the cousin of the plantation-owner who was killed and might feel the same way, especially if he got an inkling that Majardea was behind the assassination. So that’s pretty much out.”
“We could try to treat with Balirmindian,” said Anonymous.
“No,” said Malexandra. “If Codroy would even agree, his terms would be too high a price--from what I gather, he wants to rule the country, or at least have control over it, get revenge on you, Skyler, bring slavery to Majardea…. We’re not that desperate.”
“Aren’t we?” Skyler said quietly.
“No! I don’t believe kings should have the absolute authority to rule over everyone else, but since you do, you should at least take responsibility to protect your people from that tyrant!”
“So you agree that not all rulers are tyrants,” said Skyler.
“I never said otherwise. I just don’t think that anyone should have that kind of authority.”
“Is this really the time to be having a political discussion?” Anonymous asked. They ignored him.
“What’s wrong with having power, if you do the right thing with it?” Skyler demanded of Malexandra.
She hesitated before answering. “It wasn‘t a tyrant that made me realize how oppressive power is. There was once a king, a decent enough king, who thought he might not like me very much. He sent soldiers to bring me to the palace, to decide what to do about me. I stood before his throne, in chains, a trembling rabbit in the hands of a hunter. We both knew he had complete, absolute control over my fate. It was his whim whether I lived or died. He let me live, obviously.”
“I don‘t understand,” said Skyler, “If he let you go…?”
“It shouldn’t have been up to him,” said Malexandra.
There was silence for a moment, then Anonymous said acidly, “We were discussing how to prevent a war.”
“Any ideas?” She matched his tone.
The four of them tried to come up with plans, but they didn’t really get anywhere. Finally, Malexandra said, “Could we continue this tomorrow? I’m going to pass out if I don’t get some sleep.”
“We’ll all keep thinking about it,” said Skyler. And then, more quietly, “Unless we come up with something, we’ll have to start preparing for war.” On that somber note, they left.
Skyler told the news only to his advisors, who had no ideas on how to prevent a war, but started making plans on how to fight one. He had to leave the meeting to stop himself from screaming at them. They had to find a way to avoid war!
That night, Skyler dreamed he was very small, and something--a giant hand?-- was descending on him, about to crush him, and then suddenly it wasn’t and he was looking up into a giant smirking face.
The dream was still vivid when he woke, and he understood what Malexandra had meant the previous evening. And then he realized he had a plan.
When he returned to the Magiary, it was not Quaos but Aniya who let him in.
“I miss you,” Skyler said suddenly. She looked away.
“Have you heard?” he asked her.
“About Balirmind? Yes. If you’re going to tell me it’s my fault--”
Skyler cut her off. “I wasn’t. It isn’t. I just wanted to tell you I have a plan.” He told her his plan.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Skyler, holding his breath and telling himself he shouldn’t care so much what she thought.
“I’ve missed you too,” said Aniya.
They went up to the tower. Malexandra, Anonymous, and Quaos were already there. None of them looked any more hopeful than they had the night before.
“Skyler has a plan,” Aniya said.
“Codroy wants revenge on me,” Skyler said. “Not on Majardea, but on me. Instead of Majardea fighting Balirmind, I’ll fight Codroy.”
“And if you lose?”
“Then I die, not thousands of people fighting for their country.”
No one argued against it. Malexandra gave Skyler paper and a pen and wax for his seal, and he wrote a missive to the king of Balirmind.
To His Majesty, King Codroy of Balirmind,
It has come to my attention that there are unsettled differences between the two of us that could lead to war between our countries. If you are of this mind, I hope you will agree for the two of us to settle the matter like gentleman, in single combat. I do not feel it necessary to involve any innocent citizens of my country or yours in this matter, if matter there is.
Sincerely yours,
King Skyler of Majardea
He folded the paper and sealed it. Malexandra touched it lightly, and it disappeared.
They waited tensely. For hours, there was no reply. Malexandra had food brought up. Skyler pushed his around his plate. It was nearly dusk when a letter appeared in the air in front of Skyler. It was sealed with the seal of Balirmind, and read simply,
Yes.
When and where?
The details were arranged, and two weeks later, Codroy arrived in Majardea with an entourage.
Skyler had spent most of the intervening weeks practicing his swordplay. He was already good with a sword, and he was confident that he was in practice, but then, Codroy would be as well.
The fight took place in the square where executions were held. That was not, Skyler thought, a good omen, but practically, it made sense; there was plenty of room for the fight, and for an audience.
The crowd was far larger than that at executions. Skyler tried to ignore it and concentrate on fighting. He and Codroy were about evenly matched. The fight dragged on. They sweated and grew tired and blocked and dodged and hit and bled.
Finally, just when Skyler thought he couldn’t fight anymore, Codroy lowered his guard, and Skyler stabbed him in the chest.
The crowd cheered. Skyler tried to focus only on the fact that if there had been a war, the cheering people would be the ones killing and dying. He moved stiffly through the crowd, ignoring the cheering and congratulations and efforts to bandage his wounds, and went started home towards the castle.
Halfway there, he changed direction and went to the Magiary instead.
“You’re dripping blood,” Aniya told him. She had the beginnings of a black eye.
“Oh. Right.”
She gave him some bandages, and watched as he wrapped his wounds. None were major enough to require anything more.
“Were you there?” he asked.
“I went. I was too bust fending off people who recognized me to see much of it.” She gestured towards her eye.
“I’m sorry,” Skyler said. “You’d think people would have gotten over it by now.”
“Have you?”
“I voided the warrant. You’re not wanted for treason.”
“Maybe not officially. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know if it’s that I’ve gotten over it… but I think you were right to destroy the Talisman. Funny how little that matters, what I think about it.”
“It matters,” said Aniya.
“Alas, the smell’s real,” Malexandra said. She removed the spell and returned to her normal appearance.
“Are you alright? You look… drained.”
“Nothing a few day’s sleep won’t cure. Unfortunately, that’s a luxury we can’t afford right now.”
“You found what you were looking for?”
“And then some. Get Anonymous.” Malexandra hesitated. “And tell him to bring the king.”
*****
King Skyler had been in the Magiary once before, and even in that dire emergency, he had not exactly been made welcome. So when Anonymous told him of Malexandra’s summons, he knew it was serious.
A tall girl with cropped black hair met the two men at the door of the Magiary. She introduced herself as Quaos, and led them up into the tower.
The room stank. Malexandra was sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously and looking exhausted. Anonymous went up to her, waved his hands around, and the smell disappeared.
“Wow, I wasn’t aware you could do anything practical,” Skyler told him. Malexandra stifled a laugh.
“I’m sorry about that; I just got back from Balirmind and I spent most of the day in the sewers, and I’ve had more important things to worry about.” She looked at Skyler. “They’re preparing for war.”
“Against us?”
“Yes.”
There was silence.
“Can Majardea survive another war against them?” Quaos asked. “I didn’t live here yet, during the last war, but I heard it was… close.”
“No,” Skyler admitted. “That was only three years ago, we’re still recovering. If we were attacked now--it’s not quite a sure thing that we’d be defeated, but even if not… another war would take its toll.”
“Is there a reason they’re attacking?”
“It’s because of what happened with your crown. The thieves that stole it used it to destroy a Balirmindian plantation. That wouldn’t be enough to start a war, except that it was owned by King Codroy’s nephew, and he was killed.”
“Could we give them the thieves?” Skyler suggested.
Malexandra shook her head. “Even if you could find them, and capture them, there’s no guarantee it would work. They blame you; it was your crown, and a Majardean subject who used it.” She looked at the paper she’d been writing on, “I’ve been trying to think of some way to stop it, but there’s not much. We could kill him, maybe.”
“Killing kings isn’t easy,” said Quaos. Skyler looked at her.
“You might not want to talk about that,” Malexandra warned her.
“What, it’s not like Majardea was on the best of terms with Sarca under their old king.”
“That was you?” Anonymous asked incredulously.
“The point is,” Malexandra tried to bring them back to the subject at hand, “Having Codroy assassinated might prevent the war. Except that, as Quaos said, it’s difficult, and his son is the cousin of the plantation-owner who was killed and might feel the same way, especially if he got an inkling that Majardea was behind the assassination. So that’s pretty much out.”
“We could try to treat with Balirmindian,” said Anonymous.
“No,” said Malexandra. “If Codroy would even agree, his terms would be too high a price--from what I gather, he wants to rule the country, or at least have control over it, get revenge on you, Skyler, bring slavery to Majardea…. We’re not that desperate.”
“Aren’t we?” Skyler said quietly.
“No! I don’t believe kings should have the absolute authority to rule over everyone else, but since you do, you should at least take responsibility to protect your people from that tyrant!”
“So you agree that not all rulers are tyrants,” said Skyler.
“I never said otherwise. I just don’t think that anyone should have that kind of authority.”
“Is this really the time to be having a political discussion?” Anonymous asked. They ignored him.
“What’s wrong with having power, if you do the right thing with it?” Skyler demanded of Malexandra.
She hesitated before answering. “It wasn‘t a tyrant that made me realize how oppressive power is. There was once a king, a decent enough king, who thought he might not like me very much. He sent soldiers to bring me to the palace, to decide what to do about me. I stood before his throne, in chains, a trembling rabbit in the hands of a hunter. We both knew he had complete, absolute control over my fate. It was his whim whether I lived or died. He let me live, obviously.”
“I don‘t understand,” said Skyler, “If he let you go…?”
“It shouldn’t have been up to him,” said Malexandra.
There was silence for a moment, then Anonymous said acidly, “We were discussing how to prevent a war.”
“Any ideas?” She matched his tone.
The four of them tried to come up with plans, but they didn’t really get anywhere. Finally, Malexandra said, “Could we continue this tomorrow? I’m going to pass out if I don’t get some sleep.”
“We’ll all keep thinking about it,” said Skyler. And then, more quietly, “Unless we come up with something, we’ll have to start preparing for war.” On that somber note, they left.
Skyler told the news only to his advisors, who had no ideas on how to prevent a war, but started making plans on how to fight one. He had to leave the meeting to stop himself from screaming at them. They had to find a way to avoid war!
That night, Skyler dreamed he was very small, and something--a giant hand?-- was descending on him, about to crush him, and then suddenly it wasn’t and he was looking up into a giant smirking face.
The dream was still vivid when he woke, and he understood what Malexandra had meant the previous evening. And then he realized he had a plan.
When he returned to the Magiary, it was not Quaos but Aniya who let him in.
“I miss you,” Skyler said suddenly. She looked away.
“Have you heard?” he asked her.
“About Balirmind? Yes. If you’re going to tell me it’s my fault--”
Skyler cut her off. “I wasn’t. It isn’t. I just wanted to tell you I have a plan.” He told her his plan.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Skyler, holding his breath and telling himself he shouldn’t care so much what she thought.
“I’ve missed you too,” said Aniya.
They went up to the tower. Malexandra, Anonymous, and Quaos were already there. None of them looked any more hopeful than they had the night before.
“Skyler has a plan,” Aniya said.
“Codroy wants revenge on me,” Skyler said. “Not on Majardea, but on me. Instead of Majardea fighting Balirmind, I’ll fight Codroy.”
“And if you lose?”
“Then I die, not thousands of people fighting for their country.”
No one argued against it. Malexandra gave Skyler paper and a pen and wax for his seal, and he wrote a missive to the king of Balirmind.
To His Majesty, King Codroy of Balirmind,
It has come to my attention that there are unsettled differences between the two of us that could lead to war between our countries. If you are of this mind, I hope you will agree for the two of us to settle the matter like gentleman, in single combat. I do not feel it necessary to involve any innocent citizens of my country or yours in this matter, if matter there is.
Sincerely yours,
King Skyler of Majardea
He folded the paper and sealed it. Malexandra touched it lightly, and it disappeared.
They waited tensely. For hours, there was no reply. Malexandra had food brought up. Skyler pushed his around his plate. It was nearly dusk when a letter appeared in the air in front of Skyler. It was sealed with the seal of Balirmind, and read simply,
Yes.
When and where?
The details were arranged, and two weeks later, Codroy arrived in Majardea with an entourage.
Skyler had spent most of the intervening weeks practicing his swordplay. He was already good with a sword, and he was confident that he was in practice, but then, Codroy would be as well.
The fight took place in the square where executions were held. That was not, Skyler thought, a good omen, but practically, it made sense; there was plenty of room for the fight, and for an audience.
The crowd was far larger than that at executions. Skyler tried to ignore it and concentrate on fighting. He and Codroy were about evenly matched. The fight dragged on. They sweated and grew tired and blocked and dodged and hit and bled.
Finally, just when Skyler thought he couldn’t fight anymore, Codroy lowered his guard, and Skyler stabbed him in the chest.
The crowd cheered. Skyler tried to focus only on the fact that if there had been a war, the cheering people would be the ones killing and dying. He moved stiffly through the crowd, ignoring the cheering and congratulations and efforts to bandage his wounds, and went started home towards the castle.
Halfway there, he changed direction and went to the Magiary instead.
“You’re dripping blood,” Aniya told him. She had the beginnings of a black eye.
“Oh. Right.”
She gave him some bandages, and watched as he wrapped his wounds. None were major enough to require anything more.
“Were you there?” he asked.
“I went. I was too bust fending off people who recognized me to see much of it.” She gestured towards her eye.
“I’m sorry,” Skyler said. “You’d think people would have gotten over it by now.”
“Have you?”
“I voided the warrant. You’re not wanted for treason.”
“Maybe not officially. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know if it’s that I’ve gotten over it… but I think you were right to destroy the Talisman. Funny how little that matters, what I think about it.”
“It matters,” said Aniya.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Crown
"What happened, Malexandra?” Anonymous demanded, rushing across the lawn to the dark corner she was standing in. “Don't tell me nothing- something happened, something huge and horrible- I can still feel it."
"Of course something happened, and I wouldn't tell you otherwise, but this is hardly the place. Come with me." Without giving him a chance to respond, she hooked arms with him and began to walk, saying loudly, "I know some people think the Jaelic style is more elegant, but you know how I prefer actual aesthetic beauty over whatever happens to be the style of the hour, surely you agree?" Some of the elegantly dressed people sipping drinks turned to look as they walked past, but there was nothing unusual in her manner. She was speaking in the exact way she did when she really was drunk- she did such a perfect imitation of her intoxicated self that he began to wonder if she really had been under the influence any of the times he'd thought she had been. He wouldn't really be surprised if those times were as fake as this, knowing her.
"I don't give a toss about that kind of thing!" he replied loudly, slurring his words.
"No, but surely even a philistine like you can't find anything to appreciate in it. Even if you don't like the one, anyone must agree that the other is even more undesirable-" They were past the people now, and she abruptly cut off her sentence, let go of his arm, and led him up into the tower.
They climbed the stairs in silence. It was not until she'd led him into the room at the top of the tower, barred the door, and checked under the bed for good measure that she finally returned to their true topic of conversation. "Yes. Something's happened."
He waited just a moment, then said, "I knew that."
"Yes. I'm just not sure how to say it."
That surprised him- he'd never seen her at a loss for words, and could hardly imagine it.
“He used the crown.”
Anonymous paled. “He wouldn’t! And even if for some reason he felt he had to, he’d consult with me first! Malexandra, whatever you think of him, Skyler is a good king and he would not unleash that if it weren’t utterly necessary. And anyway, he couldn’t have used it, he’s on the way to my party!”
Malexandra was unfazed. “What else could have done that, then?”
“Any number of things. The crown’s not the only thing with that much power. It hasn’t been used since Skyler’s great-grandfather’s time, Malexandra, and then only during the worst war the world’s ever seen. We aren’t even at war now. Why would he s use it?”
“Let’s go ask him,” said Malexandra, gesturing towards the window. Anonymous looked out and saw the king approaching the party.
“I will do the talking,” Anonymous told Malexandra firmly as they climbed down the tower stairs. “I have no wish to see you executed.” He knew Malexandra too well to take her silence for consent, but he’d warned her, and he’d try to stop her from saying anything treasonous.
They met King Skyler on the lawn. He was about twenty five, and looked the part of king. Anonymous introduced Malexandra to him. She did not curtsey or bow, but didn’t say anything rude either, which was about as much as Anonymous could hope for.
“I’m pleased to finally meet you in person,” King Skyler said to Malexandra. “Anonymous, how did you do it with the floating lights? It’s a great effect, I might copy it sometime if you don’t mind.”
“We are not here to talk about the decorations,” Malexandra snapped coldly.
“Something’s happened,” Anonymous told the king before he could react to Malexandra.
“He knows,” said Malexandra. To the king, she demanded, “What the hell were you thinking?”
Skyler blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”
Malexandra merely stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s about the crown,” Anonymous began, but broke off when Skyler’s expression changed to one of utter shock.
“How did you know?” the king whispered.
“How did we know? How did we know?” Malexandra said angrily. “How can you have expected anyone not to know? Did you really think that you could use that much power and nobody would know?”
Skyler’s expression grew even more shocked. “You mean… you mean it was used?”
“You didn’t know,” Malexandra stated. “But what else could it be? You didn’t use the crown, the Talisman was destroyed, the Locket of Amir is… safe. There isn’t anything else with that much power.”
But Skyler was shaking his head. “I didn’t use the crown. Someone else must have. It was stolen.”
“When?” Anonymous asked him.
“Last week. I was keeping it quiet. I assumed it had been stolen for the jewels; I never thought anyone would use it. Do you have any idea of the destruction it can cause?”
“I was there last time it was used,” Malexandra said.
“But that was a hundred years ago!”
“Yes,” she agreed matter-of-factly. “Have you tried scrying for it?”
“It can’t be scried for,” Anonymous told her. “That way a king can wear it and not be found by enemy magics.”
“Ah. How unscryable is it?”
“We did some experiments a few years ago. It’s beyond my power to find it, or anyone wearing it.”
“Past, present, and future?”
“Um… I only tried finding it in the present. But the past would be no help, and even ordinarily it’s hard to see into the future.”
Malexandra ignored that. “We’ll have to go back to my place, then; there’s too much going on here to do such a delicate spell.”
“I’ve never been to the Magiary,” King Skyler said with interest.
“And you never will,” Malexandra told him.
“I could make you let me in.”
“You could try.”
“You’re right, I couldn’t make you,” he admitted.
“Won’t you need him as a focus?” Anonymous asked.
“Yes,” Malexandra admitted grudgingly, after consideration. “I’ll just get the supplies from home, and find somewhere else to do it.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to let me in?” the king asked.
“Yes. Look, I’m sure you’re aware that some of the people there are on the wrong side of your laws.”
“Of course. I won’t do anything about it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Malexandra studied him closely, then nodded, and suddenly they were standing in the room at the top of her tower. As Anonymous and the king got their bearings, she took out a large ceramic bowl and some vials. She poured a shimmery silver liquid into the bowl, then a dark blue liquid that floated above the other. She stirred them together, muttered something over the bowl, and stared into it. After a minute she shook her head and took out a pin. She held it in a lit candle, then handed it to the king.
“A drop of your blood.”
Skyler looked at Anonymous, who nodded. He pricked his finger and allowed a drop of blood to fall into the bowl. Malexandra stared into it again.
Just then, the door opened and a head peaked in. “Malexandra, have you seen—oh.” Aniya stared at the king. She started to duck back out of the room, but Skyler grabbed the door and opened it all the way.
“Aniya,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to see you again.”
“It would be better to see you again if you hadn’t ordered me killed,” Aniya replied.
Malexandra looked up. “Remember your promise,” she warned Skyler.
“I know. Aniya, I don’t want you dead. We used to be friends, remember?”
“Until you signed a warrant for my execution.”
“No, until you destroyed Majardea’s chance for peace and prosperity!”
“Stop it,” Malexandra ordered. “If I’m going to find something that’s impossible to find, I need to concentrate.”
“What are you looking for?” Aniya asked.
“The crown. It was stolen. And someone used it.”
“Why are you telling her? She’d probably just go and destroy that too!”
Aniya ignored him. “But it’s unscryable.”
“I know! That’s the problem. But really, didn’t you feel that earlier? Anything that unleashes that much energy has to leave some kind of mark. At least if I can find out what’s been destroyed, or will be destroyed I can trace it.”
Aniya frowned. “But you’re not having any luck?”
“I think if I make the spell strong enough, and look into the future rather than the present—”
Aniya interrupted her. “Do you remember the woman who was her for a few days, maybe three weeks ago? Who wanted to learn about getting past magical obstacles?” Malexandra nodded. “Well, she was telling me that her friend had the Mirror of Azerbjingardolinderia… that would be able to find the crown, maybe he’d let us borrow it.”
Anonymous drew in a sharp breath. “That would probably have the capabilities to find it,” he admitted.
“Do you know where to find… what’s her name, Rakayl? Or her friend?” Malexandra asked Aniya.
She nodded. “I’ll go ask them,” Aniya said, and left.
Malexandra tried scrying for it a few more times, then emptied the bowl and put it away. “If Aniya can’t borrow the mirror, we’ll have to get it through nonmagical methods.”
Anonymous and King Skyler agreed, and then the three of them stood around awkwardly. However, by the time Aniya returned three hours later, Malexandra and the king were in the midst of a heated debate, with Anonymous making occasional comments.
They dropped the conversation when Aniya returned, carrying a sack. Out of it she pulled the crown, and handed it to Skyler. “See, I didn’t destroy it,” she said.
“So you were able to scry it and get it back?” Anonymous asked curiously.
“Yes, that is exactly what happened,” Aniya told him, not meeting his gaze.
“Who stole it? And what had it been used to destroy?”
“Just a plantation in Balirmind. It was stolen by a former slave who wanted revenge. You don’t have to worry about it happening again.”
“That’s going to be a lovely diplomatic mess to smooth over,” groaned the king.
“You’ll manage,” Malexandra told him. Once he and Anonymous were gone, she asked Aniya, “What really happened?”
“Well, they didn’t actually need to scry it,” Aniya admitted. “But Rakayl was done with it, so they gave it back to me. Besides for that, it happened exactly as I said.”
"Of course something happened, and I wouldn't tell you otherwise, but this is hardly the place. Come with me." Without giving him a chance to respond, she hooked arms with him and began to walk, saying loudly, "I know some people think the Jaelic style is more elegant, but you know how I prefer actual aesthetic beauty over whatever happens to be the style of the hour, surely you agree?" Some of the elegantly dressed people sipping drinks turned to look as they walked past, but there was nothing unusual in her manner. She was speaking in the exact way she did when she really was drunk- she did such a perfect imitation of her intoxicated self that he began to wonder if she really had been under the influence any of the times he'd thought she had been. He wouldn't really be surprised if those times were as fake as this, knowing her.
"I don't give a toss about that kind of thing!" he replied loudly, slurring his words.
"No, but surely even a philistine like you can't find anything to appreciate in it. Even if you don't like the one, anyone must agree that the other is even more undesirable-" They were past the people now, and she abruptly cut off her sentence, let go of his arm, and led him up into the tower.
They climbed the stairs in silence. It was not until she'd led him into the room at the top of the tower, barred the door, and checked under the bed for good measure that she finally returned to their true topic of conversation. "Yes. Something's happened."
He waited just a moment, then said, "I knew that."
"Yes. I'm just not sure how to say it."
That surprised him- he'd never seen her at a loss for words, and could hardly imagine it.
“He used the crown.”
Anonymous paled. “He wouldn’t! And even if for some reason he felt he had to, he’d consult with me first! Malexandra, whatever you think of him, Skyler is a good king and he would not unleash that if it weren’t utterly necessary. And anyway, he couldn’t have used it, he’s on the way to my party!”
Malexandra was unfazed. “What else could have done that, then?”
“Any number of things. The crown’s not the only thing with that much power. It hasn’t been used since Skyler’s great-grandfather’s time, Malexandra, and then only during the worst war the world’s ever seen. We aren’t even at war now. Why would he s use it?”
“Let’s go ask him,” said Malexandra, gesturing towards the window. Anonymous looked out and saw the king approaching the party.
“I will do the talking,” Anonymous told Malexandra firmly as they climbed down the tower stairs. “I have no wish to see you executed.” He knew Malexandra too well to take her silence for consent, but he’d warned her, and he’d try to stop her from saying anything treasonous.
They met King Skyler on the lawn. He was about twenty five, and looked the part of king. Anonymous introduced Malexandra to him. She did not curtsey or bow, but didn’t say anything rude either, which was about as much as Anonymous could hope for.
“I’m pleased to finally meet you in person,” King Skyler said to Malexandra. “Anonymous, how did you do it with the floating lights? It’s a great effect, I might copy it sometime if you don’t mind.”
“We are not here to talk about the decorations,” Malexandra snapped coldly.
“Something’s happened,” Anonymous told the king before he could react to Malexandra.
“He knows,” said Malexandra. To the king, she demanded, “What the hell were you thinking?”
Skyler blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”
Malexandra merely stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s about the crown,” Anonymous began, but broke off when Skyler’s expression changed to one of utter shock.
“How did you know?” the king whispered.
“How did we know? How did we know?” Malexandra said angrily. “How can you have expected anyone not to know? Did you really think that you could use that much power and nobody would know?”
Skyler’s expression grew even more shocked. “You mean… you mean it was used?”
“You didn’t know,” Malexandra stated. “But what else could it be? You didn’t use the crown, the Talisman was destroyed, the Locket of Amir is… safe. There isn’t anything else with that much power.”
But Skyler was shaking his head. “I didn’t use the crown. Someone else must have. It was stolen.”
“When?” Anonymous asked him.
“Last week. I was keeping it quiet. I assumed it had been stolen for the jewels; I never thought anyone would use it. Do you have any idea of the destruction it can cause?”
“I was there last time it was used,” Malexandra said.
“But that was a hundred years ago!”
“Yes,” she agreed matter-of-factly. “Have you tried scrying for it?”
“It can’t be scried for,” Anonymous told her. “That way a king can wear it and not be found by enemy magics.”
“Ah. How unscryable is it?”
“We did some experiments a few years ago. It’s beyond my power to find it, or anyone wearing it.”
“Past, present, and future?”
“Um… I only tried finding it in the present. But the past would be no help, and even ordinarily it’s hard to see into the future.”
Malexandra ignored that. “We’ll have to go back to my place, then; there’s too much going on here to do such a delicate spell.”
“I’ve never been to the Magiary,” King Skyler said with interest.
“And you never will,” Malexandra told him.
“I could make you let me in.”
“You could try.”
“You’re right, I couldn’t make you,” he admitted.
“Won’t you need him as a focus?” Anonymous asked.
“Yes,” Malexandra admitted grudgingly, after consideration. “I’ll just get the supplies from home, and find somewhere else to do it.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to let me in?” the king asked.
“Yes. Look, I’m sure you’re aware that some of the people there are on the wrong side of your laws.”
“Of course. I won’t do anything about it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Malexandra studied him closely, then nodded, and suddenly they were standing in the room at the top of her tower. As Anonymous and the king got their bearings, she took out a large ceramic bowl and some vials. She poured a shimmery silver liquid into the bowl, then a dark blue liquid that floated above the other. She stirred them together, muttered something over the bowl, and stared into it. After a minute she shook her head and took out a pin. She held it in a lit candle, then handed it to the king.
“A drop of your blood.”
Skyler looked at Anonymous, who nodded. He pricked his finger and allowed a drop of blood to fall into the bowl. Malexandra stared into it again.
Just then, the door opened and a head peaked in. “Malexandra, have you seen—oh.” Aniya stared at the king. She started to duck back out of the room, but Skyler grabbed the door and opened it all the way.
“Aniya,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to see you again.”
“It would be better to see you again if you hadn’t ordered me killed,” Aniya replied.
Malexandra looked up. “Remember your promise,” she warned Skyler.
“I know. Aniya, I don’t want you dead. We used to be friends, remember?”
“Until you signed a warrant for my execution.”
“No, until you destroyed Majardea’s chance for peace and prosperity!”
“Stop it,” Malexandra ordered. “If I’m going to find something that’s impossible to find, I need to concentrate.”
“What are you looking for?” Aniya asked.
“The crown. It was stolen. And someone used it.”
“Why are you telling her? She’d probably just go and destroy that too!”
Aniya ignored him. “But it’s unscryable.”
“I know! That’s the problem. But really, didn’t you feel that earlier? Anything that unleashes that much energy has to leave some kind of mark. At least if I can find out what’s been destroyed, or will be destroyed I can trace it.”
Aniya frowned. “But you’re not having any luck?”
“I think if I make the spell strong enough, and look into the future rather than the present—”
Aniya interrupted her. “Do you remember the woman who was her for a few days, maybe three weeks ago? Who wanted to learn about getting past magical obstacles?” Malexandra nodded. “Well, she was telling me that her friend had the Mirror of Azerbjingardolinderia… that would be able to find the crown, maybe he’d let us borrow it.”
Anonymous drew in a sharp breath. “That would probably have the capabilities to find it,” he admitted.
“Do you know where to find… what’s her name, Rakayl? Or her friend?” Malexandra asked Aniya.
She nodded. “I’ll go ask them,” Aniya said, and left.
Malexandra tried scrying for it a few more times, then emptied the bowl and put it away. “If Aniya can’t borrow the mirror, we’ll have to get it through nonmagical methods.”
Anonymous and King Skyler agreed, and then the three of them stood around awkwardly. However, by the time Aniya returned three hours later, Malexandra and the king were in the midst of a heated debate, with Anonymous making occasional comments.
They dropped the conversation when Aniya returned, carrying a sack. Out of it she pulled the crown, and handed it to Skyler. “See, I didn’t destroy it,” she said.
“So you were able to scry it and get it back?” Anonymous asked curiously.
“Yes, that is exactly what happened,” Aniya told him, not meeting his gaze.
“Who stole it? And what had it been used to destroy?”
“Just a plantation in Balirmind. It was stolen by a former slave who wanted revenge. You don’t have to worry about it happening again.”
“That’s going to be a lovely diplomatic mess to smooth over,” groaned the king.
“You’ll manage,” Malexandra told him. Once he and Anonymous were gone, she asked Aniya, “What really happened?”
“Well, they didn’t actually need to scry it,” Aniya admitted. “But Rakayl was done with it, so they gave it back to me. Besides for that, it happened exactly as I said.”
Friday, August 21, 2009
Execution
I’ve been here for a few months now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Here—I’m not sure what to call it. Someone called it a menagerie of mages, a Magiary, and the name seems to have stuck somewhat, but since it was meant as an insult, those of us who stay here are torn between rejecting the name and trying to reclaim it.
The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.
It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.
You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.
But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.
“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.
“We should go,” I said.
“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”
“No, to the execution.”
Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.
“No, because it could have been me.”
“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”
“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”
They didn’t, of course.
Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.
The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.
That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.
“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.
“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.
“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”
“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.
“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.
“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.
“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”
“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’
“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.
“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.
And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
We ran.
It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.
Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—
And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.
“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.
The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”
We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.
“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”
“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”
“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”
We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.
“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.
The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.
It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.
You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.
But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.
“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.
“We should go,” I said.
“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”
“No, to the execution.”
Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.
“No, because it could have been me.”
“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”
“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”
They didn’t, of course.
Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.
The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.
That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.
“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.
“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.
“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”
“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.
“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.
“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.
“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”
“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’
“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.
“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.
And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
We ran.
It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.
Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—
And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.
“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.
The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”
We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.
“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”
“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”
“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”
We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.
“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Alchemy
“To what do I owe the pleasure of being interrupted in my studies?” Anonymous demanded sourly. He clearly had been engrossed in whatever he’d been doing—his robes looked as though they’d been slept in, or more likely, fallen asleep in a chair in, and he had several days worth of stubble.
“Don’t be like that; I can assure you this will be far more interesting,” Malexandra told him. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday? Maybe. I was busy.”
“You don’t want to do blood magic on an empty stomach; I’ll have someone get you something.”
“If you’re already fortifying your magic with blood, I fail to comprehend why you need a confederate.”
“I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, which, once closed, became a shimmery window looking into the kitchen. She stuck her head through, and Anonymous could hear her talking to someone. After a moment she withdrew, and a platter containing a bowl of rice and vegetables and a mug of tea was handed through. “Thanks, Devrin,” Malexandra said through the window. “When you see Aniya, can you tell her to go through the wards when she comes up?” She received a reply, and pinched the edges of the window together, closing it.
Anonymous asked between bites, “So, what is it that we are doing?”
“You’re eating. I’m sitting here waiting for you to finish.”
“You know what I mean. You said we’re doing blood magic,” he prompted her.
She nodded. “In more ways than one.”
“Which cryptic phrase means ever so much to me,” he said sarcastically.
“To put it plainly, we’re going to be undoing a work of alchemy.”
His fork clattered to the table at the word. “Alchemy??? But that’s.... The secret of alchemy has been lost for centuries.”
“That’s never been true,” Malexandra replied solemnly. “Such a thing is very hard to lose. It can be forgotten, yes, but then at some point someone turns it up and no one has any idea what to do about it. So there are people who guard that secret, in case something like this happens.”
“Then why isn’t one of them doing—oh.” He gave her a long look. “You know alchemy.” He said it half-disbelievingly.
She nodded. “Me, and two others in the world. But you understand, none of us would ever do such a thing.”
“But someone did?”
“Are you done eating?”
He nodded, and she reopened the magical window, shoved his dishes into it and closed it. She then opened her door, hung a sign that said, “Do Not Disturb on pain of very bad things,” and put up a ward around the room. Once finished, she took a small, ornate glass vial out of her desk and poured it into a small bowl.
Anonymous leaned closer to look at it. “Don’t touch it,” she warned him.
“I’m hardly an idiot,” he answered sharply, probing at it with his magic. He shuddered and sat back. “Gods,” he said under his breath.
“You see what it is?”
“Pure power, created through pure evil. I knew the fundamentals of the concept of alchemy, but I never realized how… much so.”
“You understand what I’m trusting you with then, in asking for your help?”
He did. Alchemy was the ultimate temptation, the ability to create infinite wealth and eternal life. Such a thing has, of course, an even greater cost.
“Malexandra?” he asked tentatively. “They say that you’re immortal…”
She gave him her very coldest glare. “If I thought you believed I would do such things, we would no longer be friends,” she told him. “They’re wrong. I’m long-lived, yes, but I come by it naturally, as you should well know.”
“I do,” he assured her. “I was only speaking of your reputation. Has it never been suggested that you’ve employed alchemy?”
“Considering that even you thought the knowledge lost, it has not occurred to the gossips that speculate on such things. And I would appreciate if that remains so. Now back to what I was saying before, can I trust you with this?”
“Of course; I would no more commit such acts that you would.”
“And you will tell no one what you know, or even that you know it? Not even your friend?” She put a slightly sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
“If by my friend you mean the king—”
“Do you have other friends?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I was under the impression we were friends, as well as—”
“We are, but I don’t refer to myself in third person. And I was going to say, do you have other friends who I won’t call by name?”
He rolled his eyes. “He’s really not such a terrible person, you know. And he’s the best king we’ve had in the last two hundred years.”
“We have better things to do than argue politics, dear, especially as we won’t change each other’s opinions. Do you mean to tell him about this?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want me not to?”
“Of course I want you not to! Kings are the very worst people for wanting eternal life and gold, and the very best at justifying doing anything to get it. After all, it could help their kingdom, what does torturing a few children to death matter?” Her last sentence was, of course, sarcastic.
“Gods, is that what it takes?” Anonymous murmured, the sight of the liquid now making him feel slightly queasy. “He’s not like that, though, Malexandra. But I won’t reveal this to him, or anyone else. You have my word on that. Now what must we do?”
“I could destroy this by burning it or dissolving it in acid. But that wouldn’t tell us anything that could help us find the maker. We need to—”
She was interrupted by a young woman suddenly appearing in the beginning of the room. “Ah, Aniya. I was just telling Anonymous how we’re going to go about this. I’m going to need you to take charge of the timer again.”
Anonymous looked at the woman suspiciously. “Isn’t there a warrant out for-”
Malexandra gave him her most intimidating look. “Aniya will assist us with this. Now, what we need to do is take the spells that make this up apart strand by strand, looking for any traces of its creator’s magic. With something as powerful as this, it will be difficult, so we will take turns adding drops of blood to the spell.” She paused, then continued, “I should warn you, this could be… emotionally difficult as well.”
“I am prepared to proceed whenever you are.”
She lit a candle, pulled out two pins, and held them in the flame to sterilize them. She handed one to Anonymous, then took out a sheet of paper, saturated it with her magic, and held the candle to it. As the paper caught fire, Malexandra dropped it onto a plate and blew out the candle. “Aniya will tap the table every thirty seconds, at which time we’ll take turns adding a drop of blood.”
“I’ll tap once when it’s Malexandra’s turn and twice when it’s your turn,” Aniya told him. She was without doubt who he thought she was, but he let that matter rest and agreed.
Aniya tapped the table once and Malexandra pricked her finger with the pin and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the paper, which was burning with unnatural slowness. Anonymous felt a surge of magic, and the two of them sent their magic into the fluid.
Malexandra had been right; it was emotionally difficult. Hatred and fear pushed into his magic, and it took more strength than he would have guessed to keep it out. He began to prod at the strands of magic making up the liquid, untangling them. He habitually took apart spells to study them, so it was not difficult. He examined the first strand he’d separated for anything that could lead back to the alchemist—and heard two taps. He plunged the pin into his finger and shook the drop of blood into the fire, then continued his examination of the magic.
It was just after his second drop of blood that he felt something, a sense of magic not part of the spell. He wrapped it in his own magic to isolate it, and began to test its properties. Two taps on the desk, he added another drop of blood to the flames, and was suddenly aware that he was doing most of the work. Malexandra’s magic was no longer picking at the spell. Anonymous felt its presence, but not its activity. He glanced up at her, but she was in deep concentration, so he shrugged it off and continued with the thread of magical energy he was examining. He cautiously sent a bit of his magic down it—
And a surge of fire and hate surged down the thread and engulfed him. A scream flew from his throat, and now he could feel Malexandra’s magic, just for a moment, because then he was unconscious.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was that of the room he’d been in, though darker—hours had passed. “Malexandra?” It came out as barely more than a croak, but as he managed to look up, she was there.
“I guess I should have warned you about that.” He couldn’t tell whether she was kidding or she really had expected it. Knowing her, probably both.
“What happened?”
“You found the alchemist. He found you right back.”
“I knew that much, Malexandra. I am quite aware that I didn’t lose consciousness due to your sense of humor. Probably. But what happened?”?
“He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Her tone allowed no argument.
“How?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, and he knew she’d killed him.
“You have no doubt?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, Anonymous, I have no doubt,” she said with less exasperation than she would have shown had he been able to sit upright. “I am completely sure. I would show you whatever bits of ash are left of the body if I knew where they are, but I don’t, and I hardly care enough to try to find them.”
“What about me?” He only meant to ask what his condition was, but before he could clarify she warned, “This’ll hurt,” and it did, so much so that he couldn’t pay attention to what she was doing, but when the wave of pain passed he felt almost normal.
“Thank you,” he told her, though less graciously than he would have had it not been her fault in the first place. “I’ll just leave now.”
“No. I already have one of the rooms set up for you. I know you well enough to not trust that you’d actually get sleep, if you went home.”
He glared at her.
“Anonymous, remember that you’re one of only four living people who know the secret of alchemy. Surely that’s worth it to you.”
It was, of course, but he’d never admit it to her.
“Don’t be like that; I can assure you this will be far more interesting,” Malexandra told him. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday? Maybe. I was busy.”
“You don’t want to do blood magic on an empty stomach; I’ll have someone get you something.”
“If you’re already fortifying your magic with blood, I fail to comprehend why you need a confederate.”
“I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, which, once closed, became a shimmery window looking into the kitchen. She stuck her head through, and Anonymous could hear her talking to someone. After a moment she withdrew, and a platter containing a bowl of rice and vegetables and a mug of tea was handed through. “Thanks, Devrin,” Malexandra said through the window. “When you see Aniya, can you tell her to go through the wards when she comes up?” She received a reply, and pinched the edges of the window together, closing it.
Anonymous asked between bites, “So, what is it that we are doing?”
“You’re eating. I’m sitting here waiting for you to finish.”
“You know what I mean. You said we’re doing blood magic,” he prompted her.
She nodded. “In more ways than one.”
“Which cryptic phrase means ever so much to me,” he said sarcastically.
“To put it plainly, we’re going to be undoing a work of alchemy.”
His fork clattered to the table at the word. “Alchemy??? But that’s.... The secret of alchemy has been lost for centuries.”
“That’s never been true,” Malexandra replied solemnly. “Such a thing is very hard to lose. It can be forgotten, yes, but then at some point someone turns it up and no one has any idea what to do about it. So there are people who guard that secret, in case something like this happens.”
“Then why isn’t one of them doing—oh.” He gave her a long look. “You know alchemy.” He said it half-disbelievingly.
She nodded. “Me, and two others in the world. But you understand, none of us would ever do such a thing.”
“But someone did?”
“Are you done eating?”
He nodded, and she reopened the magical window, shoved his dishes into it and closed it. She then opened her door, hung a sign that said, “Do Not Disturb on pain of very bad things,” and put up a ward around the room. Once finished, she took a small, ornate glass vial out of her desk and poured it into a small bowl.
Anonymous leaned closer to look at it. “Don’t touch it,” she warned him.
“I’m hardly an idiot,” he answered sharply, probing at it with his magic. He shuddered and sat back. “Gods,” he said under his breath.
“You see what it is?”
“Pure power, created through pure evil. I knew the fundamentals of the concept of alchemy, but I never realized how… much so.”
“You understand what I’m trusting you with then, in asking for your help?”
He did. Alchemy was the ultimate temptation, the ability to create infinite wealth and eternal life. Such a thing has, of course, an even greater cost.
“Malexandra?” he asked tentatively. “They say that you’re immortal…”
She gave him her very coldest glare. “If I thought you believed I would do such things, we would no longer be friends,” she told him. “They’re wrong. I’m long-lived, yes, but I come by it naturally, as you should well know.”
“I do,” he assured her. “I was only speaking of your reputation. Has it never been suggested that you’ve employed alchemy?”
“Considering that even you thought the knowledge lost, it has not occurred to the gossips that speculate on such things. And I would appreciate if that remains so. Now back to what I was saying before, can I trust you with this?”
“Of course; I would no more commit such acts that you would.”
“And you will tell no one what you know, or even that you know it? Not even your friend?” She put a slightly sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
“If by my friend you mean the king—”
“Do you have other friends?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I was under the impression we were friends, as well as—”
“We are, but I don’t refer to myself in third person. And I was going to say, do you have other friends who I won’t call by name?”
He rolled his eyes. “He’s really not such a terrible person, you know. And he’s the best king we’ve had in the last two hundred years.”
“We have better things to do than argue politics, dear, especially as we won’t change each other’s opinions. Do you mean to tell him about this?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want me not to?”
“Of course I want you not to! Kings are the very worst people for wanting eternal life and gold, and the very best at justifying doing anything to get it. After all, it could help their kingdom, what does torturing a few children to death matter?” Her last sentence was, of course, sarcastic.
“Gods, is that what it takes?” Anonymous murmured, the sight of the liquid now making him feel slightly queasy. “He’s not like that, though, Malexandra. But I won’t reveal this to him, or anyone else. You have my word on that. Now what must we do?”
“I could destroy this by burning it or dissolving it in acid. But that wouldn’t tell us anything that could help us find the maker. We need to—”
She was interrupted by a young woman suddenly appearing in the beginning of the room. “Ah, Aniya. I was just telling Anonymous how we’re going to go about this. I’m going to need you to take charge of the timer again.”
Anonymous looked at the woman suspiciously. “Isn’t there a warrant out for-”
Malexandra gave him her most intimidating look. “Aniya will assist us with this. Now, what we need to do is take the spells that make this up apart strand by strand, looking for any traces of its creator’s magic. With something as powerful as this, it will be difficult, so we will take turns adding drops of blood to the spell.” She paused, then continued, “I should warn you, this could be… emotionally difficult as well.”
“I am prepared to proceed whenever you are.”
She lit a candle, pulled out two pins, and held them in the flame to sterilize them. She handed one to Anonymous, then took out a sheet of paper, saturated it with her magic, and held the candle to it. As the paper caught fire, Malexandra dropped it onto a plate and blew out the candle. “Aniya will tap the table every thirty seconds, at which time we’ll take turns adding a drop of blood.”
“I’ll tap once when it’s Malexandra’s turn and twice when it’s your turn,” Aniya told him. She was without doubt who he thought she was, but he let that matter rest and agreed.
Aniya tapped the table once and Malexandra pricked her finger with the pin and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the paper, which was burning with unnatural slowness. Anonymous felt a surge of magic, and the two of them sent their magic into the fluid.
Malexandra had been right; it was emotionally difficult. Hatred and fear pushed into his magic, and it took more strength than he would have guessed to keep it out. He began to prod at the strands of magic making up the liquid, untangling them. He habitually took apart spells to study them, so it was not difficult. He examined the first strand he’d separated for anything that could lead back to the alchemist—and heard two taps. He plunged the pin into his finger and shook the drop of blood into the fire, then continued his examination of the magic.
It was just after his second drop of blood that he felt something, a sense of magic not part of the spell. He wrapped it in his own magic to isolate it, and began to test its properties. Two taps on the desk, he added another drop of blood to the flames, and was suddenly aware that he was doing most of the work. Malexandra’s magic was no longer picking at the spell. Anonymous felt its presence, but not its activity. He glanced up at her, but she was in deep concentration, so he shrugged it off and continued with the thread of magical energy he was examining. He cautiously sent a bit of his magic down it—
And a surge of fire and hate surged down the thread and engulfed him. A scream flew from his throat, and now he could feel Malexandra’s magic, just for a moment, because then he was unconscious.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was that of the room he’d been in, though darker—hours had passed. “Malexandra?” It came out as barely more than a croak, but as he managed to look up, she was there.
“I guess I should have warned you about that.” He couldn’t tell whether she was kidding or she really had expected it. Knowing her, probably both.
“What happened?”
“You found the alchemist. He found you right back.”
“I knew that much, Malexandra. I am quite aware that I didn’t lose consciousness due to your sense of humor. Probably. But what happened?”?
“He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Her tone allowed no argument.
“How?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, and he knew she’d killed him.
“You have no doubt?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, Anonymous, I have no doubt,” she said with less exasperation than she would have shown had he been able to sit upright. “I am completely sure. I would show you whatever bits of ash are left of the body if I knew where they are, but I don’t, and I hardly care enough to try to find them.”
“What about me?” He only meant to ask what his condition was, but before he could clarify she warned, “This’ll hurt,” and it did, so much so that he couldn’t pay attention to what she was doing, but when the wave of pain passed he felt almost normal.
“Thank you,” he told her, though less graciously than he would have had it not been her fault in the first place. “I’ll just leave now.”
“No. I already have one of the rooms set up for you. I know you well enough to not trust that you’d actually get sleep, if you went home.”
He glared at her.
“Anonymous, remember that you’re one of only four living people who know the secret of alchemy. Surely that’s worth it to you.”
It was, of course, but he’d never admit it to her.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
They Burn Witches Here
“You might not want to stay around here too long,” the man in the shop warned the woman at the counter. “They burn witches here.”
“I’m not a witch,” she said calmly.
“Try telling them that when they have you tied up to a stake and doused with oil.”
“What, you people burn everyone who passes through town? I can’t imagine that helps your economy.”
“Not everyone. It’s just, your reputation precedes you.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you burn everyone interesting who passes through town.”
“Yep. Look, I’m not saying I agree with it, which is why I’m warning you.”
“Well, I thank you for that. I’ll be gone as soon as I finish what I came here to do.”
He didn’t ask her what that was, just handed her her change and watched her walk out of the store.
Mindful of his warning, she eschewed the main roads, taking a more circumspect route through unsavory alleys that grew even less savory as she reached the poorer part of the town. Finally, she came to a ramshackle tenement. She circled around to the front and climbed up the rickety stairs to the topmost apartment, the cheapest due to the long climb and extreme danger in the case of a fire. She knocked three times on the door.
It was opened by a middle aged man who crossed his arms and stared at her suspiciously.
“Yes?” he demanded.
“I’m here about your daughter. May I come in?”
The suspicion did not leave his face, but he let her inside. The room was small and shabby, and had no furniture but for a large bed and a wood stove. A woman and a girl of perhaps ten were sitting on the floor in the far corner, next to the window that was the only source of light, sewing.
“What does she want?” the woman asked without looking up from her sewing.
“She says she’s here about Kayli.” He turned to their visitor. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, we don’t have any.”
“That’s not a problem,” she replied with a smile, and gracefully seated herself on the floor next to the child. “Are you Kayli?”
The girl nodded but said nothing. The visitor turned back to her parents. “I hear they burn witches here.”
“So?” the man demanded.
“So if someone from here were to have magical ability, it would be wisest for them to study away from home.”
“What are you saying?” demanded the man as the woman told her daughter, “Kayli, go play outside.”
The girl wordlessly left the room, and the visitor had to suppress a smile as the finding spell she had used to get here told her that Kayli was right outside the door listening at the keyhole.
“Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what? What are you going on about?” Kayli’s father demanded, but the girl’s mother ignored him and said quietly to their visitor, “Yes.”
“You can’t really think she’s safe here.”
“As safe here as anywhere,” Kayli’s mother said bitterly.
“Riantha, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Riantha ignored her husband. “You see? If her own father doesn’t know, it’s hardly likely anyone else will.”
Their visitor shook her head. “For now, maybe. But when she starts levitating things or causing explosions or turning people into rats? There’s too much magic in her to stay quiet for long.”
They both stared at her. Finally, Riantha demanded, “So are you saying she’s doomed?”
“Only if she stays here.”
“Are you saying my daughter’s a witch?” Kayli’s father demanded.
“No. Witches, and most magicians, are merely people who know how to use magic. Kayli has magic in her blood.”
“So you’re saying my daughter’s worse than a witch?” he demanded furiously. Without giving her time to answer, he bellowed, “Then you don’t have to worry about her staying here! I won’t have a witch under my roof!”
“Wait,” Riantha pleaded. “Maybe she can be cured, exorcised, something…”
Their visitor shook her head. “It’s not like that. She can learn to control it, of course, but she’ll always have magic. It’s not some kind of disease; it’s part of who she is.”
Riantha began to cry. “So she really is doomed,” she said. “She really is doomed.”
The visitor looked at them sadly. “If that’s how you want to see it.” She turned towards the door. “Kayli, do you want to come with me?”
The door opened slowly. Kayli’s eyes were red and wet with tears, but she nodded. The woman took her hand and looked back towards her parents, but neither protested.
“I promise she’ll be safe,” she told them anyway, just before she and Kayli disappeared.
“I’m not a witch,” she said calmly.
“Try telling them that when they have you tied up to a stake and doused with oil.”
“What, you people burn everyone who passes through town? I can’t imagine that helps your economy.”
“Not everyone. It’s just, your reputation precedes you.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you burn everyone interesting who passes through town.”
“Yep. Look, I’m not saying I agree with it, which is why I’m warning you.”
“Well, I thank you for that. I’ll be gone as soon as I finish what I came here to do.”
He didn’t ask her what that was, just handed her her change and watched her walk out of the store.
Mindful of his warning, she eschewed the main roads, taking a more circumspect route through unsavory alleys that grew even less savory as she reached the poorer part of the town. Finally, she came to a ramshackle tenement. She circled around to the front and climbed up the rickety stairs to the topmost apartment, the cheapest due to the long climb and extreme danger in the case of a fire. She knocked three times on the door.
It was opened by a middle aged man who crossed his arms and stared at her suspiciously.
“Yes?” he demanded.
“I’m here about your daughter. May I come in?”
The suspicion did not leave his face, but he let her inside. The room was small and shabby, and had no furniture but for a large bed and a wood stove. A woman and a girl of perhaps ten were sitting on the floor in the far corner, next to the window that was the only source of light, sewing.
“What does she want?” the woman asked without looking up from her sewing.
“She says she’s here about Kayli.” He turned to their visitor. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, we don’t have any.”
“That’s not a problem,” she replied with a smile, and gracefully seated herself on the floor next to the child. “Are you Kayli?”
The girl nodded but said nothing. The visitor turned back to her parents. “I hear they burn witches here.”
“So?” the man demanded.
“So if someone from here were to have magical ability, it would be wisest for them to study away from home.”
“What are you saying?” demanded the man as the woman told her daughter, “Kayli, go play outside.”
The girl wordlessly left the room, and the visitor had to suppress a smile as the finding spell she had used to get here told her that Kayli was right outside the door listening at the keyhole.
“Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what? What are you going on about?” Kayli’s father demanded, but the girl’s mother ignored him and said quietly to their visitor, “Yes.”
“You can’t really think she’s safe here.”
“As safe here as anywhere,” Kayli’s mother said bitterly.
“Riantha, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Riantha ignored her husband. “You see? If her own father doesn’t know, it’s hardly likely anyone else will.”
Their visitor shook her head. “For now, maybe. But when she starts levitating things or causing explosions or turning people into rats? There’s too much magic in her to stay quiet for long.”
They both stared at her. Finally, Riantha demanded, “So are you saying she’s doomed?”
“Only if she stays here.”
“Are you saying my daughter’s a witch?” Kayli’s father demanded.
“No. Witches, and most magicians, are merely people who know how to use magic. Kayli has magic in her blood.”
“So you’re saying my daughter’s worse than a witch?” he demanded furiously. Without giving her time to answer, he bellowed, “Then you don’t have to worry about her staying here! I won’t have a witch under my roof!”
“Wait,” Riantha pleaded. “Maybe she can be cured, exorcised, something…”
Their visitor shook her head. “It’s not like that. She can learn to control it, of course, but she’ll always have magic. It’s not some kind of disease; it’s part of who she is.”
Riantha began to cry. “So she really is doomed,” she said. “She really is doomed.”
The visitor looked at them sadly. “If that’s how you want to see it.” She turned towards the door. “Kayli, do you want to come with me?”
The door opened slowly. Kayli’s eyes were red and wet with tears, but she nodded. The woman took her hand and looked back towards her parents, but neither protested.
“I promise she’ll be safe,” she told them anyway, just before she and Kayli disappeared.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
A Sacrifice
You’re never so alone as when you’re in a crowd of people who hate you, except when you’re in a crowd of people who don’t know you exist. And that is the position I found myself in on that fateful day. It was summer, hot and bright, a beautiful blue sky above and throngs of happy people all around me. Their pleasant smiles and cheerful laughter opened an emptiness in my heart.
My loneliness was so intense that I was almost glad when Liana and the others showed up. Almost, but not quite. Loneliness is awful, but pain and humiliation can be worse.
It went exactly as I expected, exactly as it always did whenever I see them now. They used to be… well, we were never friends, but we were all cordial to each other. I guess now they feel they need to make it very clear that they hate me as much or more than anyone else, so they won’t be tarred with the same brush. Not that that excuses them.
They started off making fun of me, then moved on to vicious accusations, and finally started hitting me, knocking me down, kicking me, spitting on me. Tears ran down my face, and I screamed out in pain.
“HEY!” a female voice yelled out, and they stopped, probably more in surprise than anything. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Leave her be and run off before I call the guards!”
“Like they’d care about that piece of trash,” Liana muttered, but they slunk off.
The woman who’d chased them away helped me to my feet. “Are you alright?” she asked.
I nodded. “It hadn’t gotten too serious yet. Thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help. I’m Crisabella.”
“I’m Aniya.”
“Ohh,” she said in sudden understanding as the friendliness left her face, and she hurried away.
“I did the right thing!” I called after her, but she didn’t look back, and no one else looked my way.
That’s when you’re the very most alone—when you’re in a crowd of people who don’t know you exist, but if they did, they’d hate you.
It wasn’t always this way. Back when, I was… not famous, but well-known, well-liked. It was an honor to be chosen to go on the quest. I’d have been a hero if I’d succeeded. And I did succeed. Then, I ruined it all by doing the right thing.
Not that I regret it. Not really. Not that part, anyway. I regret finding the damn thing. I regret agreeing to go in the first place—agreeing, I would have killed to go. Sometimes I regret being born. But I don’t regret what I did.
What happens in stories, what’s supposed to happen, is that a hero goes on a quest, succeeds, brings back the fruits of their victories, the kingdom is restored to health and prosperity, and they all live happily ever after. What happened in real life is that I went on the quest, I succeeded in finding the Talisman, I brought it back, and I destroyed it. We got attacked from two sides and the kingdom barely survived the war, the crops failed, the economy collapsed, there’s been political dissent and the crime rate has gone up. It’s all my fault, of course.
I will freely admit that had I delivered the Talisman to the king as I had been expected to, as I had originally intended, none of that would have happened. We would have lived in peace and prosperity, or in prosperity, anyway, for surely if he’d had something that made his kingdom undefeatable, he’d take advantage of it. And it would have taken advantage of him, and of everyone around. It would have sucked up happiness and hope and replaced it with greed and malice. I held it in my palm for only a few moments, but it was enough. I know its nature as surely as I know anything, and it was pure evil.
It wasn’t hard to destroy. I smashed it between two rocks and it shattered into a million pieces. I fed the pieces to a goat. Goats will eat anything. I will note that the goat suffered no ill effects. Evil has no hold over goats.
It’s rather a miracle that I wasn’t executed. I don’t know why I wasn’t. I once heard it said of the king that he was a good king, as kings go, meaning he usually had some kind of reason before torturing people to death. But I’d given him plenty of reason, and never even been arrested. Maybe he figured a lynch mob would’ve done his job for him by this point.
But the most recent attempt at vigilante justice hadn’t done me any serious harm, thanks to my regretful rescuer, so I went home, moped around for a while, and eventually went to bed. I fell asleep crying, “I did the right thing,” over and over into my pillow.
I was awakened by a pounding on my door. I shot up in terror. Was it Liana and her gang, come to finish what they’d started? Or the king’s men, with a warrant for my execution? Did it much matter?’
I decided it was better to get it over with, whatever it was, so I went to open the door.
It was no one I had expected, no one I knew. A tall woman in a dark green cloak was standing at my door. “I’m quite sorry for the noise,” she said when I opened it. “You didn’t wake up when I first knocked, and it would have been rude of me to come in uninvited.”
“I keep my door locked, anyway.” I was still to half-asleep to make intelligent conversation.
“There’s that too,” she said with a smile that made me think the only reason she hadn’t come inside, locked door or no, was politeness.
“Anyway, you managed to wake me, you might as well come inside.” I belatedly realized how rude I sounded- I had been jolted from my sleep in the middle of the night. “Would you like some tea?” I offered as I locked the door behind us.
“If you’re having some. You could use it, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I nodded. As I began brewing the tea, I explained, “I thought you had to be either guards with a warrant for my arrest or a mob with torches and pitchforks.”
“I’m very sorry.” I could tell she meant it. “My name is Malexandra. Do you know of me?”
I did, everyone did. Lady Malexandra was some kind of sorceress, and had a sort of school or something just outside of the city. Her politics were anarchistic, but the king mostly left her alone, as had his father and grandfather before him—it was debated whether she was immortal, I remembered, as the woman standing before me didn’t look more than thirty-five. She was, now that I think of it, the one who’d made the comment about the king not torturing people to death without a reason.
“Yes. And you know who I am, I assume?”
“Of course. I don’t wake complete strangers in the middle of the night for no reason.”
I waited until the tea was done, and we were each sitting on my sofa with a mug of it, before asking, “So why are you here?”
She took a sip of tea before answering. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. I came across the information that the king has ordered your arrest for treason.”
I shouldn’t have been shocked, and guess I wasn’t, but there’s a difference between worrying that you’ll be killed and knowing that you’re to be tortured to death, and her words hit me harder than the fists of the morning’s attackers. “When?” I managed to ask.
She looked at me sympathetically, but her voice was matter-of-fact. “Perhaps an hour ago. You should have a few more hours before they come for you.”
“I have a few hours before I’m arrested, and we’re sitting here drinking tea?” I asked, but my voice held no emotion, and I found I really didn’t care. It all seemed so far away, the king’s guards and Malexandra and my hand holding the mug of tea.
“Aniya,” Malexandra’s voice was stern. “Listen to me. I understand this is very difficult, but you can’t go into shock right now.”
“Why not? I haven’t anything better to do for the remainder of my life.” But I knew she was right, and took a sip of tea and tried to force my mind back into place.
“Nonsense, you need to go pack whatever’s important to you.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
She gave me a look that said to stop being stupid. “You’re coming back with me.”
“I am?” For nearly a year, nobody would speak a civil word to me, and now I was being offered a place to stay. “Why are you recuing me?”
“Because you need it, for one thing, and I dislike executions.” As I got up to pack my things, she added, “And because you did the right thing, destroying the Talisman. Someone as brave as that should get at least a few breaks.”
I spun to look at her. “So you don’t hate me for it?”
“Gods no. Could you imagine the king, or anyone, with that much power?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, you’ll fit right in at my place.”
And I did.
My loneliness was so intense that I was almost glad when Liana and the others showed up. Almost, but not quite. Loneliness is awful, but pain and humiliation can be worse.
It went exactly as I expected, exactly as it always did whenever I see them now. They used to be… well, we were never friends, but we were all cordial to each other. I guess now they feel they need to make it very clear that they hate me as much or more than anyone else, so they won’t be tarred with the same brush. Not that that excuses them.
They started off making fun of me, then moved on to vicious accusations, and finally started hitting me, knocking me down, kicking me, spitting on me. Tears ran down my face, and I screamed out in pain.
“HEY!” a female voice yelled out, and they stopped, probably more in surprise than anything. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Leave her be and run off before I call the guards!”
“Like they’d care about that piece of trash,” Liana muttered, but they slunk off.
The woman who’d chased them away helped me to my feet. “Are you alright?” she asked.
I nodded. “It hadn’t gotten too serious yet. Thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help. I’m Crisabella.”
“I’m Aniya.”
“Ohh,” she said in sudden understanding as the friendliness left her face, and she hurried away.
“I did the right thing!” I called after her, but she didn’t look back, and no one else looked my way.
That’s when you’re the very most alone—when you’re in a crowd of people who don’t know you exist, but if they did, they’d hate you.
It wasn’t always this way. Back when, I was… not famous, but well-known, well-liked. It was an honor to be chosen to go on the quest. I’d have been a hero if I’d succeeded. And I did succeed. Then, I ruined it all by doing the right thing.
Not that I regret it. Not really. Not that part, anyway. I regret finding the damn thing. I regret agreeing to go in the first place—agreeing, I would have killed to go. Sometimes I regret being born. But I don’t regret what I did.
What happens in stories, what’s supposed to happen, is that a hero goes on a quest, succeeds, brings back the fruits of their victories, the kingdom is restored to health and prosperity, and they all live happily ever after. What happened in real life is that I went on the quest, I succeeded in finding the Talisman, I brought it back, and I destroyed it. We got attacked from two sides and the kingdom barely survived the war, the crops failed, the economy collapsed, there’s been political dissent and the crime rate has gone up. It’s all my fault, of course.
I will freely admit that had I delivered the Talisman to the king as I had been expected to, as I had originally intended, none of that would have happened. We would have lived in peace and prosperity, or in prosperity, anyway, for surely if he’d had something that made his kingdom undefeatable, he’d take advantage of it. And it would have taken advantage of him, and of everyone around. It would have sucked up happiness and hope and replaced it with greed and malice. I held it in my palm for only a few moments, but it was enough. I know its nature as surely as I know anything, and it was pure evil.
It wasn’t hard to destroy. I smashed it between two rocks and it shattered into a million pieces. I fed the pieces to a goat. Goats will eat anything. I will note that the goat suffered no ill effects. Evil has no hold over goats.
It’s rather a miracle that I wasn’t executed. I don’t know why I wasn’t. I once heard it said of the king that he was a good king, as kings go, meaning he usually had some kind of reason before torturing people to death. But I’d given him plenty of reason, and never even been arrested. Maybe he figured a lynch mob would’ve done his job for him by this point.
But the most recent attempt at vigilante justice hadn’t done me any serious harm, thanks to my regretful rescuer, so I went home, moped around for a while, and eventually went to bed. I fell asleep crying, “I did the right thing,” over and over into my pillow.
I was awakened by a pounding on my door. I shot up in terror. Was it Liana and her gang, come to finish what they’d started? Or the king’s men, with a warrant for my execution? Did it much matter?’
I decided it was better to get it over with, whatever it was, so I went to open the door.
It was no one I had expected, no one I knew. A tall woman in a dark green cloak was standing at my door. “I’m quite sorry for the noise,” she said when I opened it. “You didn’t wake up when I first knocked, and it would have been rude of me to come in uninvited.”
“I keep my door locked, anyway.” I was still to half-asleep to make intelligent conversation.
“There’s that too,” she said with a smile that made me think the only reason she hadn’t come inside, locked door or no, was politeness.
“Anyway, you managed to wake me, you might as well come inside.” I belatedly realized how rude I sounded- I had been jolted from my sleep in the middle of the night. “Would you like some tea?” I offered as I locked the door behind us.
“If you’re having some. You could use it, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I nodded. As I began brewing the tea, I explained, “I thought you had to be either guards with a warrant for my arrest or a mob with torches and pitchforks.”
“I’m very sorry.” I could tell she meant it. “My name is Malexandra. Do you know of me?”
I did, everyone did. Lady Malexandra was some kind of sorceress, and had a sort of school or something just outside of the city. Her politics were anarchistic, but the king mostly left her alone, as had his father and grandfather before him—it was debated whether she was immortal, I remembered, as the woman standing before me didn’t look more than thirty-five. She was, now that I think of it, the one who’d made the comment about the king not torturing people to death without a reason.
“Yes. And you know who I am, I assume?”
“Of course. I don’t wake complete strangers in the middle of the night for no reason.”
I waited until the tea was done, and we were each sitting on my sofa with a mug of it, before asking, “So why are you here?”
She took a sip of tea before answering. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. I came across the information that the king has ordered your arrest for treason.”
I shouldn’t have been shocked, and guess I wasn’t, but there’s a difference between worrying that you’ll be killed and knowing that you’re to be tortured to death, and her words hit me harder than the fists of the morning’s attackers. “When?” I managed to ask.
She looked at me sympathetically, but her voice was matter-of-fact. “Perhaps an hour ago. You should have a few more hours before they come for you.”
“I have a few hours before I’m arrested, and we’re sitting here drinking tea?” I asked, but my voice held no emotion, and I found I really didn’t care. It all seemed so far away, the king’s guards and Malexandra and my hand holding the mug of tea.
“Aniya,” Malexandra’s voice was stern. “Listen to me. I understand this is very difficult, but you can’t go into shock right now.”
“Why not? I haven’t anything better to do for the remainder of my life.” But I knew she was right, and took a sip of tea and tried to force my mind back into place.
“Nonsense, you need to go pack whatever’s important to you.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
She gave me a look that said to stop being stupid. “You’re coming back with me.”
“I am?” For nearly a year, nobody would speak a civil word to me, and now I was being offered a place to stay. “Why are you recuing me?”
“Because you need it, for one thing, and I dislike executions.” As I got up to pack my things, she added, “And because you did the right thing, destroying the Talisman. Someone as brave as that should get at least a few breaks.”
I spun to look at her. “So you don’t hate me for it?”
“Gods no. Could you imagine the king, or anyone, with that much power?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, you’ll fit right in at my place.”
And I did.
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