War mage crystals of mem.., p.26
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 26
There was a single, slow nod, in his direction, in agreement.
The Prince was gracious with each person he met, smiling and being pleasant. Finally, after a short while, Anders didn’t ask for anyone else to come over, and it was clear that no one knew what to do, exactly. There wasn’t anything planned, as far as a celebration or party. Alpert hadn’t wanted that, feeling it would show them in a poor light. Instead, he felt that getting straight to work would show him as being hard working, without taking the task lightly.
So, Anders bowed.
“We should see to the bags and mounts, then show everyone to their rooms, so they may refresh themselves? You have appointments, starting in an hour, Prince Alpert. The first being with myself and Prince Erold.” That likely wouldn’t sound grand to anyone else, but he had a few things to actually report. In secret.
His father brushed at his blond hair, and smiled.
“Very good, Anders. If you could set that in motion for us?”
That, it turned out, was possible. He arranged for servants to show people to their rooms, as well as carrying bags, of which there simply weren’t that many. They’d traveled fast, on horse, and didn’t have any wagons with them. That meant there were no large cases of clothing, or even documents. The horses were taken away, though the handful of military men acting as guards, along with a dozen knights, did that themselves. Four of the guards, dressed in red, moved along with the Prince, to protect him.
The Wizard did the same thing, not pretending that anyone should show him to a room of his own, even. Which wasn’t true, but showed a dedication to the role of the moment. The man, still in a trance, moved inside the castle, drifting along after the others, as they were taken to a set of rooms, which, if Anders had it right, used to belong to the royal family.
Before they’d been killed.
They also had Page Walden moving with them. A thing that had Master Gelard looking askance. The older man smiled though, seeming pleasant enough, with everyone else. He dropped that when he looked toward Anders, but his face went blank, not into a state that showed rage. As if he didn’t care that Anders was there, instead of hating him on a deep level.
The rooms were nice and had been cleaned well, stripping the overt signs of having been used in the last month. When Prince Alpert had his own space, he turned and looked at Anders.
“Is there a preferred meeting space?”
There was, being the room where Yarler had died. There was no sign of that having happened there any longer, and being there didn’t bother Anders much. Prince Erold looked a bit uneasy, but he didn’t comment on the fact, when they settled at the table there.
The guards were removed from the room, as was the new Wizard, leaving only the three of them, Baron Kilroy and the thin blond fellow. Who was there to interpret, if need arose. A position which would be important there, in Yanse. Several of the others had mentioned how difficult it was to get almost anything done, not having that skill, already.
After no more than some few moments, the Wizard came back and settled himself, seeming embarrassed, for some reason.
Prince Alpert was at the head of the table, where Yarler had been, but Anders, instead of standing behind Erold, was to the right hand of the Prince. Baron Kilroy was across from him, with Prince Erold next to him. The thin man was directly next to him, which seemed off, since it meant that the other man, the Wizard Burrows, was next to Prince Alpert. If that was done on purpose, he wasn’t able to work out what it meant. That indicated he was missing pieces of the puzzle, most likely.
A moment after they sat, Burrows, seeming nervous, glanced at the Prince, then over at him.
“No one is listening.” His head ducked, as if ashamed to be speaking at all.
Anders nodded, then checked that for himself. The man noticed him doing it, that was clear. He didn’t seem upset about it at all.
“Agreed. Is this the...” He shook his head. “I have things to report, but some of them might be secret.” He didn’t know if the men in that room were going to be allowed know everything. Or, for that matter, if he was. It made sense not to tell him a good many things, of course.
After a moment, Alpert nodded.
“This should be fine. All of you are sworn to keep what you hear secret. Tell no one, outside of this room, unless commanded by my father.”
They all nodded, or murmured that they agreed.
Then they looked at Anders, as if he should go first.
“I have a list, several of them, for the servants here. How trustworthy they are. I can pass this to Master Burrows so it can be checked?” He glanced at Prince Alpert, who nodded. The Wizard seemed shocked when it came out of his jacket and was passed over, immediately. “There were three of them, who planned to kill you, at the feast tonight. Poison. They’ve gone missing, overnight.”
Baron Kilroy raised an eyebrow, but clearly understood what that meant. Interestingly, Prince Alpert and Prince Erold both seemed concerned. The others were as well, though the Wizard read him, to see what had happened there and then went wide eyed.
In fear.
Anders simply nodded at the round-faced man.
“They’re dead. No one will find the bodies. I removed them last night, and burned them until even the bones are gone. Then covered the ash with several feet of dirt. I did the same with several of the former councilors here, a few weeks ago.”
Erold tightened his face, and looked at the table.
“I’d wondered why they all ran away. I mean, I understood that they might, after the King here died, and his family, but I didn’t know...”
No one spoke for a moment. When someone did, it was the Baron.
“Of course you didn’t know, Prince Erold. You didn’t order it done. There was no public use of force. These men, a threat to the new rule, simply left one day. Into hiding, understanding that it is their part in the new order. Except that, instead of coming back in some months, or raising a foreign army to march on us, they will remain silent. Very well done, Anders.”
Prince Alpert glared at the man, and then shook his head.
“It isn’t what I would have ordered done.”
The rail thin man next to him smiled, his face affable, instead of accusing.
“You didn’t. No one in power did. I believe that’s the point in this? If anyone finds out about it, you can point a covert finger at Master Anders here and quietly suggest that he was perhaps, a little over zealous? Then remind them of who precisely took this kingdom in battle... It should keep the people well enough distracted. If that’s needed at all. Most will probably assume it was simply what had to happen.”
Alpert blew out a huge breath of air then.
“Very good, Lord Brolly. I agree. Even if it isn’t the kind and gentle rule I have intended for this land.”
Anders felt a bit down about the failure on his part, but didn’t bother letting it show. It still needed to be done, after all. Unless it hadn’t.
To that end, he forced a smile.
“The only other thing I have is a suggestion.” The man was up on everything they’d been doing, after all. They’d been in conversation daily, normally several times, on a lot of different topics.
The new Regent waved at him to go forward. His face very still.
“Yes, Prince Anders?”
He shrugged a bit.
“You should exile me from Yanse.” The words were conversationally loud and not at all dark seeming.
The man blinked.
“I should? Why?”
He took a breath then and looked to the side.
“Why? In the nine battles of this campaign, I killed nearly a hundred thousand men. Probably closer to seventy thousand, but no one will recall that later. An army was laid to waste, on three different occasions. People here speak of the Warbow as being the villain of the whole thing. Anders Brolly. If you protect them by sending me away, it will ensure that they trust you, first thing.”
The answer he got then was different than he would have expected. Several of the people at the table shook their heads, and Prince Alpert tapped a single finger over his mouth, as if suggesting silence.
“I can see the possible utility there, of course. The only problem there is that we can’t send a war hero away in shame, for merely doing what we requested of him. If we do that, no man of the army, or any valiant knight, will be able to trust in us.”
There was another pause and Erold nodded.
“Agreed on that. Plus, Anders is incredibly popular in our Army, right now. He took his part of the war spoils and had them spread to the men, evenly. Including what he gained from the besieged keeps that we took. Even the lowest and newest recruit was given a healthy bonus for this campaign, in his name. If we kicked Anders out right now, we might well find most of our forces here marching with him, when he leaves.”
Baron Kilroy actually whistled.
“That’s brilliant, if an expensive purchase. What do you intend to do with them?”
He had an answer for that one, so tilted his head.
“The plan is to go north. Toward Dora. I don’t know if they are planning to attack Istlan, but they’ve been making ready, for some time. My hope is to seem so ready for them to attack us that they simply decide it isn’t worth the attempt.”
No one told him it was a foolish idea, at least.
Chapter eighteen
There was a feast that evening, which Anders didn’t attend. Honestly it hadn’t even occurred to him that anyone would expect him to be there. Farad tried to rally both of them, knowing that it was his own internal pressure that was driving them into the state of despair that they were in. Shaking himself a bit, which did nothing, Anders tried to find something to distract himself from his thoughts of war and murder.
That meant walking back to the shared house he was in, noticing that the outside of it had change, greatly, over the last few weeks. It had started out as a fairly nice, but outwardly plain, brown building, with a roof that matched. That was sloping, with tiles that had given them a good overhang on all sides, as if wearing an oversized hat.
Now it was a bright blue and green color, with swirled patterns on the exterior walls, and a black roof, which was the same in shape and form, but seemed to glisten, just a bit, in the warm afternoon light. Inside, the space was still open, but had some furniture in it now. Matching chairs, made of wood, a few large soft pieces, covered with pillows and hard wooden benches along the walls of the main room.
There was no fire in the fireplace, of course. Even in Yanse, the world had warmed enough that being cool each day was more important to see to than anything else, as far as comfort went. Inside, sitting off to the side, tying knots in a complicated pattern, was Hoatha.
His oldest friend, Ganges.
A person who had come halfway across the world to be with him, only to then be more or less ignored, in first the war and then due to Farad feeling poorly over the people that he’d killed. He tried to remind himself that it was needed. It didn’t truly help his mood.
Pretending to be pleased did, however.
“Hoatha! I’ve barely seen you over the last weeks. How is everything going?” He meant it, even if he had to fight to let that show through the surface level dourness that he’d been carrying with him.
For his old friend, he made the effort.
“Anders! I’ve been doing well. Watching everything and seeing where we might be of use in the area. Depak and Jeld did a wonderful job on the water and sewage systems in the city here, already. Food is food, but we ended the war at the beginning of the growing season, so other than managing the weather, we don’t have to do a lot that way. I’ve gone around doing some healing, with Princess Salina, just to work on her skills that way. In all, I don’t have much left to do here at all.” He smiled, happily enough to seem real. “Which is a good thing. You?”
Anders laughed a bit and rolled his eyes, merrily.
“Not nearly that much! Some light cooking, teaching a bit of magic. Saffron is already largely up on her Istlan. I was thinking of heading toward Dora soon.”
He expected Hoatha to be eager to leave, but the man simply waved at him, as if trying to get his attention.
“I’ve been checking that area and found nothing, since Rothina and I disabled the magics we sent in that direction... for their use. Before traveling that way with an army, we might want to send in spies and observers. If you send a fighting force all at once, it can force a fight. You think that you are simply showing how ready you are, and the enemy can only read it as preparation for an attack. Then, if even one soldier gets a bit bored or edgy, you’re embroiled in combat.”
Farad tensed. Not Anders, who simply nodded their head for them, and forced relaxation. To him Hoatha was being reasonable, sensible and probably had real information, having lead armies in war more than almost anyone else in the world. It wasn’t high on adventure, but that was fine, with the boy. Going into Yanse had tainted even his desire for glory in war. He had it, so now it seemed dull and lacking in interest to him.
Farad however, noticed the slight hitch in what the other man had said. The almost imperceptible pause. Addressing the magics that Lady Martya and Ganges had sent to the north, which they had admitted to before. Except that the last words, for their use, suddenly seemed out of place. Put there for him to hear, instead of to inform him of what had really happened.
He felt off, being suspicious of the man. His oldest friend. The only one left from his old life. Even Martya was, as he was, merely a copy. A new person, who had come from inside of a small glowing stone. A merging of Anders Brolly and Farad Ibn Istel. Something different than either.
Ganges was the same.
He was also the man who had killed millions, attempting to take over the entire world. Farad had imagined him as being different back then, after his death, but...
That suddenly seemed off to him. All because of that one hitch in speech. A thing that probably meant little to nothing. People made minor mistakes when they spoke. It was one of the reasons why he’d been taught to practice speaking in public before actually doing it.
It occurred to him though that Ganges, the man in front of him, might not have seemed any different when he was known as The Great and Terrible, than he did at that moment, smiling pleasantly and giving what seemed like good, possibly helpful, advice. That very idea caused him to feel as if he were going to lose consciousness, for about five breaths.
His lips buzzed at the idea, as the room dimmed, closing in from the sides. The pattern was blue in tone, with little sparks of light mixed into it. Then, amazingly, Anders asserted himself and smiled.
“Ah? Well, that sounds... About right, doesn’t it? I’ll suggest that to... Prince Robarts? We should really take Princess Salina back to Istlan and the comforts of a palace not at war, for a small time. Then I need to see to building that promised castle for Duke Lister. I researched what he has there, in his lands and... Well, it isn’t much. Do you think Dora will pull back, if they don’t have those extra magics?”
There was a shrug and raised hands, from the man. His light tan clothing was loose, and seemed arranged for comfort, more than to impress anyone else with his power or riches.
“Most likely. The truth is that no one wishes for war. Some think it will gain them power, of course, or land, which is my guess as to the real plan here. The far south and the far north share an abundance of snow and cold. The places between are the wealthier lands, so it is tempting for the hard folk who live in those isolated climes to strike out and take what others have, for themselves. Still, that tends to cost in lives, and such people have to work far harder to live, day to day, so every risk is magnified for them. My guess is, now that the magic sent is gone, they’ll simply pull back and wait.”
Again, the words all made sense, but Farad kept hearing things as being off. At least when the time came to speak of magics. Things sent to them, for their aid in battle.
Though, he also realized that it was probably nothing and he was being a silly old man, suspicious of every sound, fearing what it might mean.
Shaking that off, he went with what Anders had suggested for them.
“So, we should see about getting Princess Salina back. Yourself and Depak, as well. After all, both of you are dignitaries and we should at least feed you fine pies and candies for a while, shouldn’t we?”
He grinned at the words, as Hoatha waved them away.
“Who doesn’t enjoy such? Though, I must admit, after the first five hundred years or so, food holds little interest, past slowing hunger. At least as a focus for life. So, do we leave in the morning?”
Anders tilted his head, since that sounded quick to him, if there was no reason for leaving yet. Then, he felt the tension of living amongst people who, even if not all hated him, many feared him, for what he’d done to their soldiers.
Not that Istlan would be much better. Though it was possible he could simply return and no one would know who he was, in particular. Even if they heard of some war mage of great power called the Warbow, few would think of that as being him, in particular. Truly, away from the palace there, he could likely travel Yanse and no one would think that he was anything more than some strange foreign boy.
It left him feeling a bit better, realizing that. His current troubles, in small part, were there, in that place. Where too many knew him. Leaving would allow him freedom from that. Not the rest of the war, of course. He was going to carry that inside of himself for a very long time, he feared.
“I don’t know? I need to see what everyone else wishes to do, and check with Prince Alpert. He might insist I stay. Not that...” He wanted to say that he couldn’t understand why that was, but the truth was he honestly did, on a certain level of being.
