War mage crystals of mem.., p.31
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 31
“I need to perform an illusion show, for the people here. Especially the children. What do you think I should do for that?”
Everyone was being invited to speak on the topic, but only Hoatha did and that came after about ten seconds of thinking.
“For the people here? Children who have been far too near the darkness of war not long ago? I would suggest, something light. Happy things, to delight, instead of visions of dire things.”
Depak turned a bit to look at him, while riding.
“I concur. Also, small things? Your full shows are grand, of course, but perhaps a few simple tricks, with a bit of showmanship and flourish, instead of all reality falling away under everyone’s feet?”
He hadn’t really been thinking of his other shows in that light, but there was some truth in the statement. Not that he was going to stop doing that. Part of the fun of such illusions was that you could see a thing that was so different it ordered the mind to attention. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take good advice however. There, in that moment, his audience had different needs than they might at a jaded court or a land that easily accepted new magics.
“Small things? Lights and... I’m at a loss.”
There was a clearing of the throat, from in front of them.
Coming from Erold.
“Why not ask them what they want to see? Then you can work around that?”
It was a bit risky, but he nodded. If the show wasn’t completely professional, he doubted that the children watching would be pointing too harsh a finger in his direction.
“After we eat the late meal, then? That and make camp, of course.” It was the tenth night of their trip, but the first one with the wagons that followed behind them. Anders refused to let himself hunch over, simply going still for a moment. Depak saw it happen, and was looking at him, as if to ask him to share.
That was a mistake on his part, of course.
“We need to tend to all the animals. Healing. Especially the ones pulling the wagons in the back. I did some healing for everyone, earlier, so that shouldn’t be too in demand at the moment. Also, we need to repair all the wagons. I’m kind of amazed that any of them made it this far.” He could do all of that, of course, and was willing to spend his time on it.
The trick was, he really could have taken those tasks. What he wanted was for Prince Erold to have a go at one. Except that he doubted he could really order that done. Not even for practice. Not now that they were back in Istlan. It was a thing that could harm the Prince’s practice, if it carried forward, of course. So he sighed.
“Which of you, is doing which, or are you sharing both tasks?” He glanced at Salina, then at Erold.
Who rolled his eyes a bit.
“I knew I should have paid more attention to the wood working section. I have that though. Healing as well. I should really do both.”
Amazingly, Salina agreed.
“Myself, as well. I should have been seeing to such things as we traveled, as Anders has done. I didn’t even think of it. Some Great One I’m turning out to be, eh, Depak Sona?” It was nearly the first time she’d referred to the man that way. Before that it had always been calling him grandfather, or Great One.
The man, speaking in Istlan, shrugged expressively. His face held a soft smile.
“I didn’t think of it either, did I? I’ll raise housing for us all, if there’s space for it. Father, if you would see to wood and water? Anders, you’re preparing the food?”
That seemed fine with everyone, even Ganges, who seemed more than willing to perform the low camp tasks for them. Why that was, Anders wasn’t really certain. The man had been a ruler, time and again, through the last thousand and more years. Now he was traveling around, with Farad, but not really doing much, other than living, day to day.
That seemed a little strange. Anders, now that he’d thought about it, would have guessed the man would have been pressing him to engage in adult acts, or, perhaps, guiding him, as one might a student. Instead, he was simply there, in the background. Watching Anders, but seldom seeming to seek him out. No more than Anders did the other way around. Which made sense to him.
Ganges had been a friend of his, who had come a few times per month, to talk and visit, after he left the hermitage. It hadn’t truly shocked him to find the man at his death bed, to say his goodbyes, but he’d never considered them as being closer than that. Perhaps the man had, at one time, been something of a surrogate son to him. To find that he’d lived past that point, youth returned after he was placed in the crystal and having become the man’s lover...
That still left him feeling uneasy. As if it couldn’t have been true.
When he’d first heard of that, Anders, the boy, had rebelled internally. Farad, being an old man, had wondered if the words had been true or not. He was not, as he’d assured Ganges, a lover of men. Then, if Ganges the Great Wizard had wanted to change that, a spell or potion might well have been easily enough had to ensure it.
That wouldn’t even need to be a forced thing or one of evil, truly. If his friend had lamented Farad’s lacks, and found a way for him to serve well enough, without harm, he might well have done it, of his own accord. Indeed, he might have even done that, eventually without such inducements. It didn’t feel correct to him though. Even if the tale told seemed well enough founded.
At least to the point he could check. It had happened so long before that Farad had no way to truly know if what he’d been told had taken place at all. Ganges had challenged him, at first, as to if he believed such a tale, at least that he was the original Ganges. Farad had, of course, shown skepticism, but the truth was, he’d more or less simply trusted the man, even while counseling others to be careful in that regard.
It was a thing that he probably couldn’t have helped. To him, a little over a year and a half before, Ganges had literally soothed his brow, as he’d been passing away. Joking with him, seeming tearful and as if it were simply correct for him to be there with him at the end. Now the man, the very same fellow, rode a tan horse not ten paces from him.
Except that they were in a far-off land, a thousand and five hundred years later. Perhaps even more than that. It rankled Farad that he didn’t know precisely how much time he’d missed, sitting locked in a crystal. At the same time, his friend had grown and changed, in ways that he doubted would be within his ability to understand.
That, in and of itself, could be the difference he was noticing. He looked at Ganges and saw a young man, the same one who had left his tutelage, after basically raising him for ten years. Indeed, he looked slightly younger than that. Ganges on the other hand looked to him and had to see some strange boy, who seemed little like his old mentor at all. He was the wrong coloration, nearly as tall as a child as he had been in his first life, since Anders was going to be huge when fully grown... He had to seem, in almost every single way, like he wasn’t Farad at all.
Which was correct.
He was Anders now. Even that boy was different. Merged with him, in a way that was impossible to separate totally now.
True, Ganges had left his old home in the red desert to be with him, but it was clear that the man had either changed so much that it was hard for him to be friends now, with anyone, or that he was disappointed in Farad for not being himself any longer. It was the only thing he could think of when he considered why Ganges was acting as distant as he was.
Even that wasn’t lacking in friendliness, truly. It was as if they were just too different. Anders was, he knew, not the way Farad had once been. Then, Ganges wasn’t as he’d been, either. The boy, the man in his fifties, even, who had been part of his life for so long wasn’t there in the man who rode with him.
Which was probably the price of time’s passage. The Ganges of old, on finding that Farad was back, even in part, would have sat with him, for hours, if not days, telling him all about what had happened in the time he slumbered. This Ganges had traveled with him, and talked of the weather. At times of magic, or philosophical outlook on life.
He’d barely mentioned what had taken place at all. What bits he had let loose were about the time after Farad had been healed, after being imprinted by the crystal, and how they’d lived together. Not the wars, or times of peace that had happened. He hadn’t offered the names of books or spoken of interesting people who he’d met. There was no talk of his children, either.
The Lerna, an entire race of a sort, made of magic, had all been of his line. Saffron was his five times great-granddaughter, or something like that. Anders didn’t even know if Depak was his last child or not. It had been hinted at, but not spoken of directly.
When Ganges had been younger, he’d spoken often. Enough that the other historians had labeled him a chatterer. It was a bit of an unkind jest, but in that silent place, the boy had spread noise and consideration of everything, all the time.
Now the man was silent, unless engaged with directly. Smiling, but empty, at the same time.
Anders probably had some of that going for himself, so wasn’t going to call attention to that particular point of behavior, but it was truly there. They seemed to be friendly, but he wasn’t at all certain that the man thought of him as a friend. Not the one who he was supposed to be. For a moment, he felt very sorry for him. Especially if he was supposed to be the replacement for his long-lost love.
Lost in thought, Anders was taken by surprise when Sir Daniel pointed to the side of the road, on the right. There was a meadow, with the sound of running water at the back of it. Also a turn off, that wasn’t a real road, but which did lead to the grassy expanse. That wasn’t too high, but it was enough for the horses to graze on, without having to search for vast amounts of fodder that night. The oxen and mules with the wagons, as well.
In the direct center was a large stone ring, that had obviously been used for cooking in the past. The remnants of burnt wood, a large log end and a tower of rocks on either side, meant for a spit to be used. Not that he had one of those with him. He was traveling on horse this time, without a wagon at all. Carrying heavy iron rods wasn’t going to be taking place, given that.
Still, he had some good cast iron pots, and could make a spit using green wood. That would have to be protected by the meat being cooked, but would work well enough, for the one night. Anders laid out a heavy oiled cloth, to butcher the meat on, and then went to find where all the food had been put. He didn’t speak to anyone, but he did wave at a few people, and tried to smile a lot. That was hard to do, for some strange reason. The kids, in particular, simply did it back. Some of the women did as well, as he floated a large train of things behind him, back to where Depak was raising a magical house for them to sleep in that night. Then, before he was even halfway through taking the skins off the deer and butchering them, the man started in on a barracks for the soldiers.
Then he put up several similar structures for the women and children. A thing that no one had mentioned at all. They weren’t, strictly speaking, traveling together. Except that, to Depak, a great and generous man, that clearly didn’t make any difference. By the time Anders had all the meat ready to be cooked, seasoned with salt from his supplies, and a bit of spice from his little kit of such things, he started some roots, in water he called into being with magic, instead of walking to the stream, and went into the woods, taking down a small sapling, to strip, using it as a spit for the food.
He did most of the work using magic, just for the practice of it. When Mary and Betha showed up, both smiling as if it were a fun activity, instead of a chore, the slightly elder woman, looking fine in her now bright clothing, laughed.
“There’s barely anything left to do here at all! Do you want us to do other things for you?”
The idea caused Farad to close down a bit, but Anders, who was a very different person, merely nodded. It was enough to cause the old historian to panic a bit, until he spoke.
“Could you take some of the uncooked things around for people to make for themselves? I’m not going to be able to cook for everyone. Also, let them know that I’ll be doing a small show, for entertainment, after the meal? Everyone is invited, but it’s mainly for the children. Little magics and what not.” He waved then, to show it wasn’t a large thing.
Which was the whole point of doing it. To show people that magic wasn’t odd or scary. Just another tool to be used. To their benefit, if at all possible.
Betha took a deep breath, went slightly wide eyed, and then... Smiled.
“We can surely do that! How exciting. We haven’t had much for entertainment, for a while. I tried to tell some stories a few times and Warna can sing really pretty, so did that, but it wasn’t much. The winter was harsh that way.”
Muttering a spell and pointing, Anders caused the meat to start to rotate over the fire. It was early to have it going, but the wood was burning down well enough for some of the heat to be fairly steady. The flames licked higher in places, as the first fat started to drip into it, but that was how the method worked. Mary looked at the motion, and smirked.
“You’ve gotten better at magic, haven’t you?”
The words got a simple nod from him. It was, he had to figure, true enough.
“I’ve been practicing a lot. Teaching as well, which tends to push one to learn as well, as strange as that sounds. Then the war... Well, that pushes at everyone, doesn’t it?”
The women, both of them, were watching the spinning food cook.
“That it does, Master Andy. We’ll go and take things around. For the soldiers, too? We can see if any want to spend some coin with us, Betha, after the free show.” She reached out, and put her hand on Anders’ arm. He was, he noticed, taller than she was now. She wasn’t tiny for a woman, either, so that was interesting.
“We’ll be right back.”
That was true, since they each had to make at least ten trips, taking collections of food and hopefully messages, to everyone. Anders had food for his people ready at least half an hour before everyone else did, so passed out bowls of boiled tubers, with seasoned greens on top, that had been lightly fried, and large hunks of venison. He’d made a bit too much, so took extra for himself, and made certain that Depak, who had built seven fairly large structures, got some as well. It was favoritism, but the man had earned the food.
No one else said anything, but a few of them took more, smiling about it, as if they were being selfish, trying to replace the energy lost while working with magic. Just because he hadn’t tracked what everyone had been doing didn’t mean it hadn’t taken place. Still, he sat near the central fire, eating meat off the tip of his smallest knife, when one of the women who had joined them walked up, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Forgive me... The meat, it fell into the fire and I didn’t see it in time. I... My children shouldn’t have to eat ash or go hungry, for my mistake.” She swallowed, and hunched her narrow shoulders. “I’m not a very good cook.”
There was extra meat left and some roots, so Anders waved at it. They had uncooked meat as well, about half of it, but he planned to use that the next day.
“Let’s use the prepared food up first? Is that enough?”
The lady smiled, showing she was missing a tooth in the front, on the top.
“Oh, thank you! It should be plenty, Master Andy. I... Thank you.” She waited, not taking it for herself, so he got up, leaving his half-filled bowl on the ground, and liberated his second largest pot, which had roots in it, and served up some of the greens, on top, then sliced the meat off of the spit, which still spun. That took a bit of skill, but he more or less managed it.
“I’ll need the pot back, before morning. What’s your name, if it’s all right to ask?”
“Oh! I’m Sarath. Sarath Smith. My husband, Bix, is a Sergeant, with the third division. They’re still on the border, to the north, in case the Yansies come back at us. I never met up with him. I thought... well, coming this way wasn’t the best plan, turned out. I was to take in wash for soldiers and ended up...” She shook her head then, not going into what she’d had to do in order to survive. “Well. Thanks to all of you, for the food. I’ll have this pot back directly.”
She carried the thing away, struggling slightly under the weight of it. Not that it was huge, she was just thin and clearly, weak.
Anders sat back down and ate his food, not thinking about the woman having had to whore herself out for bits of food, in order to keep her children alive. At least after a moment. Instead, he planned out what kind of show he was going to perform. Taking Depak and Hoatha’s advice, as well as what the others had said, he worked out a plan. The trick was, he knew, to keep things fairly small.
If anyone wanted to see him do it, in the first place.
Instead of him having to go to the fires of the others, people came to find him, when darkness fell. Settling on the ground, with the stone firepit in the middle. The idea of working while surrounded wasn’t at all strange to him, since that was how stories were recounted.
He cleaned up, removed the meat from the fire and moved to the remaining piles of meat, freezing it all, for the next day. Then, muttering softly, altered his clothing, from the sturdy green trousers and tunic he had on, into shining silk robes, in a light blue, with a white pattern of dragons on the front, in stitch work.
Then he held his hands up to the side, rather dramatically.
“Welcome, all of you! It looks like we have everyone here? Good! Now, I’m going to produce some illusions, for your entertainment! You all know what illusions are, don’t you?” He leaned in, then spun in place, because there were people on all sides of him.
One of the children, a young boy, being kind and helpful, bothered to answer.
“Illusions are things that aren’t really there.”
He waved and smiled.
“Exactly! Things that have no weight, cannot harm and while they might look like anything, they aren’t truly there. Still, we can show wonders with them. Sights you have never seen! Sounds you have never heard! Smells you have never... Er, smelt? Scented?” He grinned, and raised his eyebrows, which got a polite chuckle.
