War mage crystals of mem.., p.29
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 29
Then the Prince spoke.
“Let it be known that the occasion of... What was the name of the feast here again?” He looked at Walden, who hunched a bit, when spoken to.
“Selmnought, Prince Alpert.”
“Indeed! Selmnought. Let it be known that the occasion and observance of Selmnought this year will be observed with a day of fasting for the folk of the castle and surrounds, due to the state of mourning for the former King and his family. All others should hold to their normal traditions and practices. All children under the age of ten are to be fed, instead of fasting. Further, mourning for King Yarler may be shown with a single black arm band, of modest size and shape for men, and a bit of black ribbon, cloth or a single flower of any color, worn by women.”
The words had to be gone over several times and translated to the proper language, but ten minutes later the man had the document finished. The hand was only a bit better than Anders’ own, but the style was a bit different, which might make it easier to read for those accustomed to such things.
Then, a bit heavy handedly, he gathered fifty sheets of paper, and some of the ink the scrivener had and cast a rather lengthy spell at both the sheet and the blank pages, spread out over most of the table. No one gasped or acted amazed when the ink, as a fine mist, spread over the room, landing on the papers, reproducing the message on the first one perfectly.
It was a bit sad, really. Anders rather enjoyed that part of things, normally. Instead of acting as if it were a large thing, the scrivener simply stood, looked at Anders and bobbed in place a bit.
“How long would it take you to do this for, say, a hundred books?”
He didn’t really know, but could have run up a hundred pages at one time. Doing an entire book wouldn’t work, unless he read each page as he went. That, of course, would still depend on a lot of factors.
“A hundred different books or a hundred copies of one book?”
“The second idea?” The man, who had a powdered wig on his head, with a blue bow on the braid that hung down his back, seemed interested in the answer.
“Well, given all the materials being on hand... and a book of some size, I’d guess four to six hours? Less if I had helpers to organize things for me, so I only had to focus on the magic.”
The man clapped then.
“Very good. I have several people who wish to commission such runs of texts. The going rate is ten gold coins for each written work. We could split that up, say, with five of those coins going to you for each one?” The man held his breath, as if it were a bad suggestion.
To Anders it seemed a good enough thing to learn how to do and Farad was nearly beside himself with the idea. A hundred books at one time like that would change the world. Especially if many could learn to do it. Dreams of tens of thousands having important texts filled him for a moment. He glanced at the rest of the room, with Master Burrows seeming slightly annoyed for some reason and Lord Brolly looking fairly pleased with the suggestion.
The Regent coughed a bit and covered it with a hand. At least after the discussion was translated for him.
“That’s a fine bit of work, but you might be leaving soon. Perhaps on your return?”
It was the second time that the man had seemed to suggest that Anders lived there, in Yanse, now. It was, no doubt, a fine enough place, but he didn’t know if it was where he wished to settle. Besides, one way or the other, he had other things to keep an eye on. None of them were in that land, in particular.
“True! Still, I can show Daren, Jeld and Walden here how to do it, so that they can keep on with it, as schedules permit? We should do the same for Istlan. I’ll see if that can be set up there as well?”
That got waved at, is if it were a fine enough thing, but not important at all. As if books weren’t one of the biggest and best things a society could have. His people had loved such learning enough to support men who did nothing except recall texts, for a living.
These people seemed more casual that way. It was a bit annoying to Farad, now that he noticed it happening.
“That would be fine, of course, if you have time, Anders. If not, then perhaps in some few months? We don’t need to press you, or these others, I have to think?”
Anders simply bowed his head a bit.
“Of course.”
For some reason the Prince didn’t want him to work with books. That, or possibly, start a new project just then. Which could be due to his plans to leave, of course. Part of him wanted to claim it was more sinister than that, but he didn’t think that would be true. Alpert was a good man, after all. Not perfect, perhaps, but other than getting a girl pregnant at a young age, out of wedlock and then not being allowed to marry her, Anders had never heard of him doing anything particularly bad or even in poor form.
So, if the man didn’t want him to do something, there might be a good reason for it. Instead of feeling poorly over the idea, he simply sat for a moment, while the scrivener packed up and left. Then, before he could pull himself and Walden off, Prince Erold walked in, with Daren in tow.
“Alpert? We have a message, from Father.”
That had been written out, since that was the custom when passing such things around. The words weren’t in a fine hand, being that Daren had done the work on it. Still, it could be read, and after Prince Alpert did that, he passed the paper down to him, directly. Erold slipped into the chair next to Walden, not displacing the boy, or anything.
The words were interesting, since they included things that Anders wouldn’t have suspected as being part of such a message.
“I’m to be called back, along with Princess Salina, if she wishes to come. I’m supposed to go regardless. Daren and Jeld are to stay, to give magical backup and instruction as requested here. It’s requested that we bring the Lerna Saffron to come and stay at the castle of King Mathias, if she wishes to travel in that direction. Also, it seems that Princess Javina and Prince Daren are to be married in a year? We’ll have to have him back to Barquea for that, of course. Both of them.” Anders shrugged then. “You know, if we have to do that, we’ll want to send Walden with them. Princess Lissa can see to his instruction. That’s in the future and possibly won’t happen, but you’ll need to learn Barqean as well, just in case.”
Prince Alpert snorted at him.
“A real consideration, but one for the future. You left a bit out there?” He pointed at the paper, his face serious.
Anders had, because he didn’t think it was all that important.
“The bit about being knighted? I’m nearly certain I don’t ride a horse well enough for that.”
Ambassador Nona made a face at him then, her accented voice a bit wry.
“What is that? I do not know of it?”
Anders could see that, since the woman was working in a different language than her own.
“A knight? It’s a horse soldier, who wears armor. Very effective on the battlefield.”
Prince Alpert seemed to agree with that.
“It’s a position also given as an award for those who distinguish themselves in battle. Or, of course, if you have enough political clout. In this case it’s a bit of both.”
The words were waved away, by the lady, her sleeve shimmering in the light through the window.
“Ah? That sounds like what a boy might enjoy, then. Is this a common thing for a man of... Young age?”
Prince Erold bowed at the woman, his face charming. She was attractive and smiled back fairly well, even if she was married.
“Not common at all. Not for valor in battle. It happens, but I only know of two others in the last years. Both older than Anders is, so it’s fairly special. I’d be jealous if I hadn’t been given one as well. That was more about being a Prince of Istlan than merit, of course.”
Everyone played that off, and it wasn’t true. Erold had done incredibly well in the battle. As had Salina, Jeld and Daren. If Anders hadn’t been there, they would have still won, after all. He’d taken most of the lives, but that was just because, as he’d thought before, that piling more on the mountain didn’t really affect him all that much, any longer. There were just so many of them.
Plus, he’d had some tricks ready that had worked rather well.
The truth was though that Anders wasn’t that thrilled to be named a knight. It simply wasn’t important to him. That held, when Farad checked for the boy inside. He’d fancied himself a warrior once, a fighter, but never a man who made a living on a horse, in particular.
Part two: The Road to Ferlith
Chapter twenty
“Andy!” The voice that called out wasn’t truly familiar to him, though he turned, since it was a woman, and from the sound of her calling, she was on foot, near the edge of the road. There was a line of wagons there, waiting for the troop of military men on foot and the few horses to pass. Probably to follow along behind, if they could, using the armed men as protection on the road.
It was a good idea, and wagons didn’t really move that much slower than men on foot. Not if the men weren’t being forced to move at best speed. There was no reason to do that to them at the moment, so the pace was about wagon fast. At least on the good, very smooth and dry path in front of them.
Sitting on the back of Brownie, with Chestnut tied behind him, a healthy pack, mainly of food, but also with some few gifts, on her back. Over that he noticed the clutch of women. Each of them was wearing a blue or green cloak, even if the weather was going to be too warm for that, later in the day. Then, Anders was in mail, with a heavy undershirt that day, since it had been what the knights were requested to wear by Sir Daniel. That would be warm later as well, if not as brutal as wearing heavy gambeson would be.
Technically that only meant Anders and Sir Daniel, as well as Sir Ruffo. The soldiers going back to Istlan were actually being sent because they had to protect Princess Salina. That was the excuse at least.
It took him a moment to figure out which woman had called for him. Several were looking his way, and most of them were smiling, so at least it wasn’t going to be an attack, first thing. Unless it was a very clever trick, of course. That a group of whores would think to do that... Well, the truth was, they only had to take direction and perhaps some coin. Someone else could come up with the plans.
This particular group of ladies was familiar, however, when he stared for a bit. Then he pasted a smile on his lips, as one of them waved. She was, when he made eye contact, a person he knew.
“Mary!” He had to get out of the line of travel, moving to the side of the road himself, to speak to her. “Are you well? I was worried about you. All of you.” That was actually true, he realized. There had been a group of women and children, camp followers, taken by the Yansians at the start of the last winter.
The plans had not been to treat them kindly. He’d tried to help, but there was only so much that a man could do from thousands of miles away.
His words had the rest of the women smiling, as well. Not all of them truly meant it, that was obvious, but they were bothering to try, which was enough, for the moment. It was what he was doing, after all.
Mary, her brown hair up on the back of her head, in a rather fine-looking bun, her dress and cloak looking stained and worn in a few places, if clean, laughed.
“We were all almost taken in war... then a giant freed us, after we chanted for a bit. Then... After we got away, two ships with pirates on them came and gave us food, blankets and some coin, to keep us going until we could make it back into Istlan. We just heard that the war is over, so are all heading home now.” The woman gave him a saucy look. “You owe me a fancy new cloak? Last time you spoke in my head you said that.”
He blinked, then nodded. He honestly had. That had even been him making a bit of a vow, at least in his intent, so it was important.
“Ah.” Then he focused and pointed at what she had on. “Clotha cloda devis clotha forma re doogis kal, ere fen.” He had to point a bit, but no one seemed to think anything of it as Mary’s clothing shifted on her body. It made her jump a bit, letting out a soft sound of surprise.
Her cloak grew a bit, thinning the cloth, so it wouldn’t be as warm, and turned a shining metallic gold in color. Her dress repaired itself and changed to what seemed like a sturdy travel dress, this time in bright red, which was Mary’s signature color, he thought. The shoes on her feet, things that had looked ready to fall off, were suddenly reshaped to be light, but nice-looking black boots.
There was a pause, then a soft gasp from the other ladies in the wagon. None of them asked him to do the same for them, for some reason. One of them did speak though. Betha, he thought her name was. They’d met, on the road, some time back.
“We didn’t understand what the pirate men wanted, at first, but they kept saying Brolly and Anders Sona, so we knew it had to be you wot sent us food and coin. They were even polite and helped us build some better shelters, before they left. Was it you that made that giant?” She seemed nearly afraid then, as if a big illusion was a thing to fear.
Especially considering that fierce seeming had saved her, at the time.
“No, that was the work of Illian Darca, the grand illusionist of Yanse. I merely suggested everyone ask him for aid at the time, that was all.” It had been enough, having been pretty hard to manage, at the time. It didn’t seem like a large feat of magic, of course. A few words spoken into a thousand, perhaps two thousand ears.
At thousands of miles distance. It had nearly killed him. Though, now that he thought of it, there was an idea there. He’d identified the cloaks he’d made, and used that as a link to each of the people. He could also name a specific person or even type of item. When he called for apples from the woods, only ones close enough to what he demanded came to him.
Hoatha had presented lights for twenty thousand men, which was incredibly impressive, power wise, but if he’d come up with a specific name for Istlan soldier, that might have been enough to make it work. Truly, it could be as simple as a phrase for person on my side. It wasn’t a thing that Anders had come up with at all, yet, but he smiled at the idea. That, and many more, could be used for things similar to that.
The biggest issue then, as always, was really in having enough power to get the task desired done. Hoatha had been very careful around him, so far, but it was clear that he must have supplemented his grand magics with the blood of others. A thing that stole a bit of their lives from them, draining people without restraint, at times. In the old text, it was suggested that such magics might even drink the very souls of the dead, causing them to fade from reality as if they’d never existed.
It wasn’t a thing that he wanted to deal in, to be honest.
Rather than let that thought, possibly wrong, sour his mood, he grinned at Mary.
“Still, the things I sent along helped some? Was it enough?” He’d worried about that as well, for a while. It had been all he could get to them, at the time.
Mary, still staring at her new clothing, looking at her glittering cloak, which was already getting attention from the soldiers walking past, a few turning to make eyes at her, sighed, dreamily.
“We ate well, after that. It was a bit rough, before that, but we holed up for months, and stayed on the coast. It wasn’t truly pleasant there, but it rarely snowed and we had wood to burn, to warm us. No one died, which was a blessing. Thank you, Andy. That was most kind, thinking of us. How much did it cost, sending things that way?”
Half the women simply looked down then, into the wagon. The others pushed their chests out, and tried to seem attractive, for some reason.
“A trifle. Some coins. Nothing I couldn’t manage at the time. Now, I need to get back to my place, or I’ll end up being lost. Are you attaching at the end of the line?”
That got a nod, from one of the women who was actually wearing trousers and a well-worn, filthy looking, tunic.
“Aye! Are you hunting this trip? We could trade for some meat and greens?” The words were hopeful, even if a few of the women tittered, in the wagon behind them. The other two held children. The things were run down and their animals were in dire condition, but no one was raw boned, simply poor looking.
Anders had planned to get some food in, since he hadn’t been able to buy a lot, in Yanse. There had been a war and it was the start of summer. Plus, he’d run out of coin. He had more, but all of it was in his room, back in Istlan. In his room, if Princess Lissa hadn’t had to spend it all, trying to get the servants to bother to study each day.
If that had happened, well, then he was going to have to figure out a way to get some more. That or learn to do without. It was simply easier to pay people than to make every little thing himself. Then they could use the coin, too, which was a good thing for the world.
“That’s the plan. I could use some helpers, to aid with the cooking?”
Mary winked at him.
“You’ll clean this finery for me, when I get it covered with soot and grease? If so, I’m in. You have Little Erry with you as well? I saw him riding by... Prince Erold... It’s hard to believe that I’ve spoken to someone like that, isn’t it? Only, he isn’t so little now, is he? All of you look hard. Even that fine lady seemed like she was ready to end us, didn’t she?”
That was possibly true. There weren’t a lot of smiles in that part of the line.
“Later then, if I can find anything to eat out here? This area was stripped, so I might have to travel a bit to locate things. War does that.” It was a constant thing, he thought.
Every story he knew mentioned that kind of thing. The ones about large wars, at any rate.
Several of the ladies nodded, and he waved a bit, as he rode back, gently tapping Brownie with his heels, to get her to trot for a while, getting them back into place. Hoatha grinned at him.
“Friends of yours?”
“Yes. A group of camp followers that I met some time ago. They should be with us later. Some of the ladies agreed to help cook, if I can find anything to hunt or gather as we go.”
