War mage crystals of mem.., p.22
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 22
“Brother! Have you come to give praise to the waters?”
Anders bowed, using first courtly, which had the man, seeming baffled, doing that back, bending in half, humbly, arms at his sides, like a commoner. Then, while they had bowing in Yanse, it was mainly kept to the nobles, who had their own secret fashion of doing that, just like Istlan had.
“I was sent to arrange funerals, for many people. The King is dead. King Yarler? His family as well. It’s a sad thing, but what comes from war. We’re to have three days of mourning, I think? It might be more than that. What would...” He looked around and shook his head. The place was strange an uncomfortable, but it had clearly taken some coin to make. That or magic. “I’m from Istlan, and don’t wish to give offense, but what would you like in return for arranging such things?”
The thin man simply bowed again and grinned.
“We don’t properly charge for such services, but, if it isn’t a hardship, a small bit of coin would be welcome, as a gift?”
Anders pulled his purse out, looked at what was inside, and nodded. Then he closed it and handed the whole thing to the man. It was only about ten gold, which was enough it seemed. Then, he wasn’t aware of just how many had died.
“There will be more. A gold for each person? I don’t wish to cheat you.”
That got a sigh, at least.
“The gift is normally a silver per person.”
Which was still pricey.
“This is the family of a King. Their lives were stolen from them before their natural time. I would like their way into whatever afterlife they believed in eased as much as it may be.” He hadn’t liked the King there, but the man was gone now. Being seen as kind that way was worth more to him than mere coins.
A thing that no one would probably understand or care about.
Chapter fifteen
Anders threw himself into the rites needed for the fallen King of Yanse, and his people. It would have been better if Prince Alpert could have been there, to retire the killer. To at least send him home, or into exile, instead of having him standing by, making a mockery of the entire thing. Instead, he paid nearly a hundred gold for an event that, in the end, didn’t sound that grand at all.
The Followers of the Water were able to build large fires, to rid them of the bodies, as was the custom there, and were willing to say pleasant words, to smooth things over with their god, and perhaps the restless spirits of those murdered for having the wrong blood in their veins.
In the end, before the fires could be started, the next day, he came up with a plan. It wasn’t really a big matter, being mainly illusion. A thing that would probably be gaudy and inappropriate. Still, he was in charge of the event, so worked it out with the priest of the Water, or whatever the man called himself. Brother seemed to work, though he’d never given a personal name at all.
Everyone seemed to be avoiding him while he worked, which, oddly, Farad thought he understood. It was what he’d have done in the same place, and was, with some of the others. Those who had been in the battles were all on edge and seemed either angry or nearly too tired to go on. Of all the magic users, only Depak and Hoatha were immune to that, with Prince Erold holding up better than the rest. Salina was being very quiet but throwing herself into building things outside the city, to practice. Grand palaces and a small walled compound, that didn’t seem to have a real purpose.
It was lovely, however. A thing that made Anders smile, when he finally got over to see it. The workmanship was flawless, as far as he could tell. It had running water and proper indoor toilets, of a kind that he’d only seen in Barquea. The walls were covered with complex patterns, even in the dwellings that seemed to be designed for soldiers. The rooms for the servants were easily three times the space that Anders had at home, even. He was touring the place, on his own, when he ran into her, and managed to smile. She didn’t do it back, but after a few moments she waved at him.
“I was thinking that those sent by King Mathias could stay here? It’s not too far from the proper castle, without being them having to stay in the walls of that place, if they don’t wish to.”
She glanced at the walls, not looking at him at all.
“Ah? It’s wonderful. Very well done, in fact. I’ll need you to show me how to do what you have here with the privies. I have the basic idea, and some spells for it, but not everything.”
She simply snorted at him, and winked. It was the first playful thing he’d seen since the last battle.
“I can do that. Finally, I get to know something you haven’t already mastered? That’s fun, isn’t it? There’s to be a funeral, later?”
He nodded, since the time was closing in for that, already. There was a field, about a mile from the castle, that was prepared for that.
“I need to get ready for it, in fact. You should attend, with the others? I know, it’s a grim task, and I at least won’t be welcome, but...”
She closed her eyes.
“It’s cowardly of me, but I’m tempted to hide from it. I’ll be there though, ready to be attacked and reviled for my part in this. So far... Well, no one has tried to speak to me, other than a few of the soldiers, asking if I was available to take trade.” Her words were dry, but her lips quirked. “I was very surprised when I learned what they really meant by that. They were all polite, when I explained that I was here for magic, not for that. A few tried to give me gifts instead, which is always nice to have. Flowers and some pretty stones?”
“Ah? That... I think that must be part of being a woman, truly. Men have to try to marry and all that, and women do the selecting. That’s me ignoring the first portion. I don’t know what to do about that. Probably nothing. I mean, they asked if you were open to trade that way. They didn’t force you or even insist more than is normal?”
She glared at him, but smiled at the end of the moment.
“No, that’s true, they didn’t. I’m simply not used to being put to such questions, so openly. At any rate, I’m fine, which I think is what you were really asking of me?”
He nodded, not actually being able to care. Still, he pretended to, which had to be nearly as good, in the moment.
“Now, I need to change. My clothing. To tidy and then meditate, before the rite takes place. I have some small illusions planned. I hope it’s taken well.”
Again, he didn’t hope that at all, but the words tumbled out anyway. Even if they were lies.
She simply pointed at an open door.
“Use the side room? I need to work up some furnishings for this place. It’s going to... Take a few days, I think. Maybe more than that. Do you have any idea when we’re going back? I...”
He understood.
“I’d like to leave as well. Nothing against the people here, but I keep thinking that they’re going to turn on me at any moment. Not that I can blame them. They hear my name and have to assume that their son, or nephew died at my hand. Possibly their daughter or husband.”
The woman simply nodded, her face gentle. Almost sad.
“I keep seeing the faces of the poor men I killed. It was at war and had to be done, but I would wish for a better way.”
He would too, if it could make a difference at all.
Walking into the other room, he found a large tub there, a pool under a waterfall. The water was cold, but refreshing, so he cleaned himself with a spell, then washed, since it was familiar to him and left him feeling cleaner, for some strange reason. Then he dried with more magic, using an old spell variation that took water from his skin.
“Andersana lod wo, ere ot neg, fen ot...” He didn’t have to wait too long, streamers of liquid moving from his skin to the small washing pool, since that drained constantly. The ring of stone was interesting and decorative, while seeming very natural in certain aspects.
The water in the air twisted a bit, writhing around the others of its kind, joining into one, at the end point. When nothing more came off of him, he ended the spell.
“Fen.”
Then he cleaned the rest of the way, and dressed himself again, in rich looking velvet and silk, all in black, that being the color of death there in Yanse.
It was in Istlan, as well. Interestingly, the color for that was white, in Barquea. In Modroc, it was red, or so he thought. He looked fine, probably. He combed his short hair, but didn’t have a looking glass, and wouldn’t know how to use it for that purpose if one was on the wall. His hair was straight, and not in the way. That was enough, for him.
When he went out, Salina was gone, so he walked the near mile down the main road, to the field where the bodies had already been placed on large piles of logs. The gray sky started to drop water on them, which he ignored, since that wouldn’t be important to him. No one was watching him, so he bowed, toward the pyres, one by one. There were twenty-seven of them, matching the number of the dead from the execution, the day before. Plus, one for the remains of the King. What they could scrape up of that.
“I’m sorry. I wish things could have been different.” He meant that, at least for most of the people. He didn’t feel bad about King Yarler at all, of course. The man had probably wanted to die. It wasn’t lost on him that the man had gone for the Warbow, who he knew for a fact had killed large portions of his army, in his own person.
If he’d gone for Prince Erold, the guards would have reacted instantly. By going for him, they’d paused, instead of grabbing Yarler, before he could stand up. Not that Erold wouldn’t have been able to make him explode. He’d killed many in battle as well. They all had done their part. Anders had done more, but that was fitting. He didn’t need his friends to be like he was. A monster unfit to be with others.
As dusk began to fall, people started to show up. The priest and his ten helpers were already there, but men and women riding on horses and in carriages arrived, before those on foot did. Then the public came, each dressed in their nicest clothing, cleaned and tidied as well as possible, with at least a bit of black showing.
When Prince Erold arrived, with the other mages of Istlan and Barquea, they rode in a brown carriage, with three others following. Behind them were at least a thousand soldiers, marching in time with one another. The act was impressive, even if they looked dingy and hard used.
That went away, since he had a plan for that. Honestly, he hadn’t figured that anyone would be coming at all, so he copied an illusion that he’d seen once, with some small changes. Illian Darca had covered a larger group of men with the seemings of large green monsters. Anders simply made the men look tidy, in red and black uniforms, with gleaming metal on their heads, all matching, even if most didn’t have helm at all. Originally, he’d been planning to make a fake army march up, having forgotten the knights, totally.
The knights were made to shine, their painted armors made brighter and without dent, when he could manage it. It was a lot to hold at once, but he managed it. At the same time, there was a sound of mighty horns, playing as if from the very hillsides, miles away. It was loud enough that everyone noticed it happening, with many of them turning to look that direction, as they lined up or got out of their fine carriages.
Anders nearly lost the entire illusion when the group in the last carriage in the line got out. There were two men and two women. The fellows looked decently fit, with a nice amount of muscle all over their tan bodies. He could tell, because they appeared to be wearing only underpants. That and short cloaks which weren’t at all warm enough for the environment they were in. The clothing was bright, being red and deep turquoise in color.
The women were, at least in proper dresses, which went all the way to their ankles. They were in bright colors as well, though more of those. The only issue that Anders had at all was that they ladies, one old enough to have gray hair, the other likely no older than Salina, both had their breasts pressed up from underneath and totally exposed.
All of them had rather tall, fairly decorative, headdresses on. Bedecked with dangling beads and in a few cases, bright feathers.
He had to block them out, totally, to focus on his plans.
A slow and mournful song started to play, coming from the distance again. Without him having to motion to the man, the hired priest moved forward and began to speak, his voice loud, but calm, at the same time.
“Oh Lord of the Waters, take your good servants to your embrace, for they are good and worthy of such. Please allow them the rest they deserve and in turn, keep them from the strife that this world once held for them.” He went on.
For a rather long time. Finally, he waved to the fires, which wouldn’t light, the rain they all stood in making that too difficult. It was hard to hold the music and the images over the fighting men, as well as dry the wood at the same time, but he did it, and then, before he could risk the whole thing collapsing, Daren and Jeld, both in uniforms of black, moved from pyre to pyre. They bowed, going low at each one, and lit it, using covert hand signs.
They were so covert about it that it was hard to tell they were the ones doing the magic. As the fires grew, so did the music, which seemed to come closer, as if an invisible band was marching toward them. As the fires burned, they all stood there, as night fell, waiting.
It was hard to make up new music, all of it having to sound sad and slow. Everything he’d done before, all of it, was totally wrong for the venue of the moment.
Still, after six hours, in the middle of the night, the soldiers were led away. They were followed by the knights, who had the people from the city, in their thousands, behind them. Marching, nearly, as if part of the official happening there.
The Fellows of the Water stayed, and planned to, well into the next day, until the last of the fires went cold. Then they’d collect the bones that remained, and place them with care in the crypt below the castle. Rather, the servants would do that, after they were delivered. The music played on, since they had Princes still in attendance, not having left yet. Princesses as well. Also, the mainly naked people, who had to be freezing, in their strange and revealing clothing.
Anders dried himself, since the work of the last hours had left him covered in sweat, and breathing hard. Moving only to holding the music was a relief. When he was clean again, a thing done covertly, he moved to the remaining people, instead of standing away and behind where the priest had spoken from. His goal was to go and stand by Hoatha and Daren, as well as the others he knew there, but he was summoned instead, with a wave, by one of the ladies in the strange dresses.
The younger one, who locked eyes with him, rather firmly.
“You are the one called Anders Brolly?”
He bowed, hoping they weren’t going to fight. If so, the lady had the advantage over him. After all, he was going to be distracted by her, no matter what he did. As it was, he had to focus his mind enough, using the music for that, to probably seem rude.
“I am. I fear I don’t have your name, yet, Miss?”
“Nona Hethdrinia. I’m the Ambassador to this place, from Minoa, across the great sea.” She waved, to the east, so that he’d get the idea. He vaguely recognized the name of the place, from having seen maps, but that was all.
“So nice to meet you, Ambassador Hethdrinia.” He had a feeling he was supposed to say more, but nothing came to mind. No one walked over to bail him out, either.
The woman smiled at him, her face damp, from the rain. The cold seemed to bother her, and the rest of her group, so Anders muttered a spell to warm the air around them, not considering that it might be rude to do that without asking first. Thankfully, one of the men nodded to him and smiled.
It took work to do that, but not as much as holding a thousand illusions. That really hadn’t been as hard as all of that, since it was really only five illusions, made to look like a thousand men, some horses and men in armor. Still, it hadn’t been much fun to hold for six hours.
The Ambassador, with the strange and foreign name, dipped her head to him.
“Would you be available, in the morning, for a consultation? I fear my husband is ill with some difficulties. They happen in travel, but your friend Hoatha suggested that I ask after you for such matters?”
That was interesting, but he nodded. Ganges could have seen to it himself, and probably done a better job of it, but for some reason had sent them to Anders. That could mean almost anything, of course. Hoatha, Ganges, was almost certainly seeing things that were totally outside of what Anders or Farad would be able to understand, lacking context and exposure to similar things.
Still, leaving the man in pain or discomfort wasn’t a good thing to do, so he nodded.
“Are you at the castle here?” He hadn’t seen them there, or heard of strange, mainly naked, people being there, either. Then, if the king you were visiting died, and you couldn’t flee back home, staying out of sight might be a very good idea.
Especially if others, of unknown intent, had marched and then made the man’s head and upper body explode.
The lady, her accent rather thick and odd, with a lilt that spoke of certain letters not being used in her own tongue, closed her eyes, and held the move.
“That is correct. You will come?”
“Of course. At first light, if I can gain entry? That isn’t assured, of course.” It wasn’t his home and there was no other reason for him to be going there, other than to see to some, hopefully, basic healing. Loose bowels or an aching middle.
The words had the woman turning away then, clearly dismissing him, by not paying any attention to him after that. Different places had different ways, so he simply walked over to his friends, who were milling around a bit, moisture not falling on them, as long as they stayed near Depak Sona. There was an invisible dome over him, about ten paces across, that shed the rain, off to the sides. The edge of that space was pretty damp, but after he pressed through the curtain of water, he was fine again. The pyres hissed, but stayed hot enough to consume the bodies.
There was a scent, like roast pig, in the air. Worse, after hours of holding magics, he was hungry. The idea left him feeling ill, but didn’t keep his middle from growling. It was loud enough that several of the others looked at him, as if he were being a true monster, responding to the burning corpses like that.
