Mark of the fool 8 a pro.., p.31
Mark of the Fool 8: A Progression Fantasy Epic, page 31
He straightened back up to his full height, shoulders expanding, chest swelling. The young Hero of Thameland pressed a palm over his heart. “Because that’s the problem: they all see me as a what. I’m half-convinced Uldar saw all of us as a what. I know I have plenty of people here who support me: you, Baelin, my cabal, Mr. and Mrs. Lu, my friends, my family… they all know the ‘who’ of Alexander Roth. But for once? I want those bastards who want to put me in chains to know who the hells I am.”
Words spilled from Alex’s mouth, words he didn’t even know he had in him. “I have nothing against the king, and—hells—even most of the priests of Uldar I’ve met aren’t evil, they’re just misguided. I want the chance to tell them what I’ve done for the war effort, and how valuable I am to it.”
“The misguided can still harm, Mr. Roth,” Professor Jules said, her voice growing strained. “You know who was also misguided? Amir. Yet he caused more harm to Generasi in mere months—by helping his filthy, demon-worshipping friend—than most of our city’s enemies had in entire lifetimes. One could say even his demon-summoning scummy friend was misguided in his own way. But he still harmed others, all the same. These misguided priests will harm you; you need not be the one to save them.”
At that, Alex began to laugh.
His laughter rolled from his lips, growing in volume until it echoed through the office. He doubled over, hands on his knees, barely supporting himself.
Professor Jules looked at him like he’d gone completely mad.
Alex held up a hand, shaking his head. “Give… me… a second…”
When his laughter finally died, he looked at her with a broad smile. “Oh, I know that, Professor. I’ve got no interest in saving them—” He paused, thinking over his next words. The young man examined his own thoughts and emotions. “Actually, I do want them saved. The true bastard in all of this is Uldar, not them… really. Another monster is that First Apostle… basically the entire hidden church. They’re all pure evil, every last one of them, but I think the rest might deserve some guidance, at least. But I’m not the one who should be interested in guiding them—not when they’re trying to get me killed. No, what I’m suggesting is for me. I want to explain my accomplishments. I want to explain what they’ll be losing for the war effort and the future, if they chain me up like a dog.”
Professor Jules sighed. “I’ve already explained that to them, Mr. Roth. It’s no use.”
He shook his head. “It’ll have more impact if it comes from me.”
The professor raised an eyebrow.
“Let me explain. They see me as this cowardly deserter. They see me as this useless Fool who ran from his rightful duty in order to save himself. They see me as someone afraid to face them, right? Well, what happens when I do face them? When I walk up to them—head held high—and tell them from my own lips who I am. That’s not exactly the move of a cowardly deserter. And even if High Priest Tobias doesn’t change his mind about me? Then maybe the king will. If not him, then maybe his nobles. Maybe the court-wizard. Or the soldiers. As long as I can plant some seeds of doubt in their minds, we could see their perception shift in our favour. And that can only help us.”
Professor Jules’ eyebrows knitted together. “That is not even a hypothesis, Mr. Roth. That’s just supposition.”
“It’s experience.” Alex tapped his right shoulder. “For one: the Mark of the Fool has taught me a lot about how to change people’s minds and how to read them. Look at Merzhin. He was about as fanatical as fanatics come. If you or I had told him about the church’s nasty secrets, he wouldn’t have believed us. But you know what changed his mind?”
Alex pointed to a painting on Jules’ wall depicting a beautiful garden filled with butterflies. “Seeing the difference between what was real, and what was no more than an image in his mind. He couldn’t deny what the hidden priests did to Carey. And because of that? The image of the church—the one in his mind—completely changed because of their actions. What if the Fool appears before the king and priests and he breaks the image they have in their minds. I think it’s worth a try; anything that might get them to change their minds, even a little. The more we make them question, the less likely they are to come after me, and—with any hope—they’ll have a better chance of seeing things differently, making it easier for everyone when they eventually find out the truth about Uldar… well, if they do.”
“They will capture you anyway, Mr. Roth,” Professor Jules warned. “No matter what you say to them.”
“Then I’ll just teleport away. As many times as I have to.” To illustrate his point, he teleported across Professor Jules’ office and back, startling the alchemist. “It’ll be a display of power, one that’ll show the king and the high priest how futile trying to catch me would be.”
“And what if the hidden church is there?” Professor Jules pointed out. “The First Apostle sounds very old and dangerous. I would be shocked if he is not currently trying to create a way to pen you in—teleportation or not.”
“That’s not as easy as it sounds; Hannah’s power is… well, powerful. And more importantly.” He rubbed his hands together like he was anticipating a delicious meal. “If we bring along a powerful enough force with us, then we’ll be able to stop them; try to capture me and get crushed right then and there.”
“If only we would be so lucky,” Professor Jules said grimly. “Hmmmm, a powerful force… The First Apostle and Third Apostle alone sound like monstrous opponents with well-trained strike forces… possible Ravener-spawn support. We would need to have our own exceptionally powerful force, or risk casualties in any battle that they would gladly blame us for. Hmmmm, that means a sizable force of Watchers. Maybe Gemini herself… perhaps Professor Mangal could summon something nasty. Hm, if only Baelin were here, this would be so simple. He would be our most powerful resource. Nothing else comes clo—”
She paused, a deep frown crossing her features.
Alex could see her thinking long and hard.
“What do you have in mind?” Alex asked.
“A thought, but it could be nothing,” she said.
“Anything I could help with?” he asked.
“No, actually. Trust me, it would be better if you’re not involved. It would be better if as few people as possible were involved… but it could work. I am going to try something, Mr. Roth, and if it works, we will have a shocking amount of strength with which to crush the hidden church or anyone fond of ambushes. Seeing as I’m not sure whether or not it can be done, I’ll keep the idea to myself for the moment.”
Alex was about to say something else, but the words died on his lips. He knew better. “Fine, I’m going to trust you.”
She smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Roth. Fine, then, I shall trust you as well. If you want to come to the meeting, then do so. But please… you must be careful.”
“I promise I will, Professor,” Alex said.
“No, listen to me.” She looked at him solemnly. “You must take care of yourself, Mr. Roth. Don’t become another Miss London. I could not stand it. So, please, don’t do that to me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, we’re clear,” Alex said. “And I won’t do that to you, Professor.”
“Good, then I’ll arrange the meeting with Councillor Kartika as quickly as possible,” she said. “What will you do?”
“I have to tell my friends what’s happened,” he said. “They deserve to know, and we’ll have to get ready for whatever’s coming.”
She looked at him gravely. “Tell them to take care of themselves as well. I do not want any of their lives on my conscience.”
“I’ll tell them, Professor.” He lowered his head. “I’ll see if I can meet up with them at Khalik’s place.”
“Good. Keep me informed of where you are so I can send you a message as the situation develops. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go prepare… possibly for war.”
Chapter 42
The Cabal’s Gathering with the Fool
Prince Khalik Behr-Medr’s villa suited him perfectly.
Peeking from behind a stone wall was an older grey building situated near the southern wall, standing at the end of a quiet boulevard on a hill, offering its occupant a fine view of much of the district. A copper roof—long turned green—capped rough walls thick with ivy.
Alex stepped through the open gate and was greeted by gardens abundant with shrubs, grapevines, fruit trees, patches of fragrant herbs, and flowers. A magical fountain sprayed jets of water high in the air, twisting it into a whirling column of droplets that swirled back into the basin, and repeated.
Every plant in the garden was perfect, not a blemish anywhere to be seen. The young wizard paused, recognising Professor Salinger’s techniques from the look and composition of the soil, techniques he wasn’t sure he’d be using anytime soon, but for an earth mage like Khalik, they were key.
Hummingbirds flitted from bloom to bloom, dipping long beaks into nectar, as a trio of frogs croaked below the fountain’s edge. Alex made his way to a courtyard ringed by a low, inner wall that enclosed outbuildings, more gardens, and the main house. He looked behind him. Lining the top of the outer wall like a row of gargoyles, a flock of crows had gathered, giving the peaceful scene an ominous turn.
“Omens of doom and gloom are kinda fitting right now,” Alex muttered to himself, his hand reaching for the door knocker.
A piercing screech startled him.
Something blurred by, striking the ground.
He yelped, instinctively raising his staff.
Had the church found him? Did they send an assassin? Were they here to ambush him in front of his friend’s house?
No.
The only assassin around was Najyah, here killing his already tightly wound nerves. She clutched a freshly caught hare in her claws, keeping it pinned to the ground as it struggled to get away. The eagle turned her head to glare at Alex as if daring him to approach her meal. Her back arched as she fixed him with a cold gaze, then abruptly turned away, totally disinterested.
“Bloody bird,” the young wizard swore. “You scared me—”
Suddenly, the front doors burst open, revealing a certain muscular prince standing in the entranceway. He looked bewildered. “Alex, I did not expect you to be here so soon. I heard someone scream and thought Najyah was chasing off some intruder. Thank the gods it was you. Come in. Come in.”
The prince waved him inside, barring the door behind him.
“You will have to forgive me; I would have gotten some proper food, but this meeting happened so suddenly.” Khalik pointed to a spread of fresh fruit, vegetables, and cheeses on the table. “This is all I had time to prepare.”
“Hey, man, it feels wild to me that I’m about to eat anything prepared by a prince.” Alex took a seat at the table, noting it was set for four.
“It is a ‘privilege’ few will ever experience.” Khalik grinned, sitting across from him. “But in truth, few royals in Tekezash can actually cook.” He laughed, but the laughter did not reach his eyes.
It soon faded. “Isolde and Thundar should be here shortly.”
“That’s good,” Alex said.
“Do you wish to talk before they arrive? Are you well?” the prince said.
“No, man, not at all,” Alex said grimly, reaching for some grapes. “I’m bloody tired. Part of me wishes I could teleport to Thameland right now and slap those bastards in their nasty faces. Another part wishes I had more time. I’m trying to hold it together, but… ugh, my mind’s all over the place.”
“Mine would be too,” the prince started to say. “When I—”
There was a knock at the door.
Both young men slowly looked at it.
“Oi! It’s Thundar! Isolde’s right behind me—she’s paying the sky-gondolier—let us in,” the minotaur’s deep voice boomed.
The prince and wizard breathed a sigh of relief, and Khalik went to the door.
Alex fought a moment of panic, remembering how the clawed hunters mimicked voices. He was already standing up when the prince unlocked the door, revealing a very worried minotaur on the other side.
Behind him, Isolde had left the sky-gondolier just beyond Khalik’s outer gate. She was jogging toward the minotaur.
“We are here,” she said, giving Thundar a stern look. “You could have contributed to the gondolier’s fee.”
“You’re rich,” the minotaur fired back.
“Yes, well now, so are you, cheap son of Gulbiff!” Isolde snapped, stepping inside. Khalik closed the door behind them, barring it.
“Not as rich as you,” Thundar said simply, taking a seat at the table. “But, uh, you know what, I’ll get you next time. Besides, Alex should’ve just teleported us here, ain’t that right, Alex?”
The minotaur grinned at the young Thameish wizard.
But Alex’s smile was tight. Forced.
Thundar’s grin vanished as Isolde took her seat at the table.
The cabal was together again.
Silence fell.
Isolde glanced at Thundar, then cleared her throat. “Your message, Alex… would… you care to give us more details?”
And so he did, telling them everything Professor Jules had told him, her concerns about all of it, and what they were planning.
The cabal took it all in, grimly.
None took even a sliver of food from the table, only listening as Alex explained what the church had planned to do, and what Professor Jules’ and his response was going to be.
He also told them about wanting to meet with Kartika, and how that meeting would likely decide his fate.
When he was through, Khalik nodded gravely. “So, at last, it has come to this. When you first told me your secret, I knew that a day would come when we would need to defend that secret. Defend it, and you.”
“And now that time has come,” Isolde said, shaking her head. “At the time you told me, it seemed like such a small, distant thing.” She gave a bitter laugh. “The thing that I was most focused on then was how the Mark affected your ability in your studies. I was relieved when I learned that you had not simply overtaken me in terms of intelligence and work ethic. Now? Such thoughts seem irrelevant.”
“I hear you,” Alex said. “Honestly, marks, tests, assignments… that all feels so small now.”
“Which is ironic, since they’re gonna affect our future,” Thundar added.
“I would not be so sure,” Isolde said. “My grandfather told me that the reason to achieve high marks is twofold: one for pride and prestige in school, and the other to demonstrate that you have properly absorbed the material. Wizardry is too dangerous to learn in half measures. We must know it well and cold. But—” she winced “—and I cannot believe I am the one stating this, he admitted that individual marks achieved during our university career will not help us much in life. How did he put it…”
She drew herself up, her voice dropping low and deep, “Isolde, the number on any paper you achieve will seem like the end of the world to you. Exceptional success will feel like life, while moderate success will feel like crushing failure. But, Isolde, in even as short a time span as five years after you complete your final studies—graduate level, of course, you are a Von Amnut—you will not even remember those numbers and sometimes you might catch yourself wondering why you worried about them at all. After all, no monarch will be interested in what your grade was in magic theory when they are selecting a court-wizard. Any army you join will not demand your grade for your third-year assignment in battle magic, and no entity that you conjure will ask for your final grade in your summoning assignment.”
Isolde took a deep breath, tapping the side of her head. “Then he tapped his temple and finished with: ‘However, that king will ask you to demonstrate your mightiest magics, and if you wreck yourself with a mana reversal, then it will be the end of your path through magic. An army will demand your greatest battle magics and—if you do not know them well—you will ensure that soldiers fighting on your side die. And die terribly. And lastly, while a demon or devil will have no interest in your final summoning grade, they will be very interested in the flaws introduced into your summoning circle by sloppy work. In short, competence, confidence, and knowledge gained from your training will matter all your life. The numbers on a piece of parchment? They will be worth less than the ink used to write them.’”
Thundar gaped at Isolde. “Are you… feeling okay, there?”
“Have you taken ill?” Khalik asked.
“Do you need to lie down?” Alex said. “Are you a mana vampire pretending—badly—that you’re Isolde?”
“Honestly, I feel the same as you; at the time, my grandfather’s words seemed completely misguided. I thought them out of touch and that marks were of the utmost importance. But are they?” she said. “I am not so sure. Look at what Alex has achieved. In your businesses, have any of your prospective clients asked you about your marks?”
“No,” Alex admitted.
“My potential academic supervisors for my graduate studies are interested in my marks—which are still essentially perfect, I might add,” she sniffed. “But they show more interest in my interests, the research I have performed on the expedition, my battle experience, my relationship with Baelin, and even my connection to my grandfather… My marks seem almost secondary. And now, here we are, speaking of the apocalyptic coming of the church of a dead god. It makes all talk of marks seem rather frivolous.”
“I hear you,” Prince Khalik said.
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “At this point, if it wasn’t for the Mark’s downsides, I might be able to challenge the Exam for Credit for every single class I have, then graduate at the same time as Isolde.”
“Show-off,” Thundar grunted.
