Practical adept book 17.., p.8
Practical Adept: Book 17 of the Spellmonger Series, page 8
I chuckled at that. There were very few horses in Farise, before the invasion. Donkeys, cows, pigs and chickens, certainly, but there just weren’t enough rangelands to provide fodder for horses in any number. But you can’t have brave Narasi knights conquering a place without bringing their noble steeds, so they imported sileage from Castal at great expense, I recalled, to feed their mounts and their vanity.
“To be honest I resented that, too,” I offered. “I had to patrol the city on foot. It’s a big city,” I reminded him.
“I know. I was in charge of it,” he pointed out. “I was the fourth Governor General of Farise in less than five years. I was appointed because the three dukes – well, their representatives – got tired of being jerked around by the magi of Farise, and hoped that putting a mage in charge would smooth things out.”
“Did it?” I asked, curiously.
“A little,” he admitted. “It helped that I was Wenshari, and not Narasi. It also helped that I was knowledgeable about Imperial customs in a way that an unsophisticated Narasi knight is not. I like to think that the occupation at least got more civilized and more bearable after I took over.
“But in the end, it was more of the same ineffective governance. It was just more civil than before. The Farisians paid little more attention to me and my attempts to rule than they did any of the Narasi. They persisted in being Farisians,” he repeated, a curl to his lip. “Even after I married a local woman, things didn’t improve overmuch.”
“So if I’m considering conquering Farise, what would be your advice?” I asked, modestly.
Loiko considered the matter thoughtfully. “Don’t,” he finally suggested. “Farise isn’t like Wenshar, or Cormeer, or other parts of the old Empire that could be conquered with enough terror, bloodshed, and oppression. It’s an entirely different animal. We could take the city. We could even hold the city. But we never truly were able to bring it to heel. I’m not certain anyone could. The Sea Lords were the last to try it, and they held it for only fifty years or so before the locals got the Empire’s attention and helped them take it back.”
“But there is no Magocracy any more for them to turn to,” I pointed out.
“There’s a Duchy of Merwyn,” Loiko countered. “Merwyn would love to have control over Farise. It would give them a base right between Alshar and Castal, and bestow upon them command of that trade route. From there they could control trade in the entire Shattered Sea. Indeed,” he added, “that is the very purpose to which Duke Andrastal intends to put the fleet he’s assembling, we think. He plans to challenge the rebels and pirates who control Farise now and take it from them before we do.”
“But the Merwyni are Narasi, too,” I objected. “The Farisians would know that. They would be replacing one conqueror for another.”
“The Merwyni are sort of Narasi,” Loiko corrected. “There is still a lot of the duchy who identifies their ancestry proudly with the Magocracy and counts their descent from there. Particularly their naval forces. Andrastal is betting that a modest, Imperial-style Merwyni regime in Farise would be more palatable to the locals than the Narasi law we tried to impose there.
“But in the end the Farisians wouldn’t care. They would persist in being Farisians, and the Merwyni would have no better luck at conquering them than we did. The Contramara will rise, there will be more mysterious stabbings and poisonings and accidental deaths and gang violence between the factions. And the Merwyni would have to contend with all that while relying on much longer supply lines. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t try, particularly if they were aided by some factions within Farise.”
“And there will always be some faction in Farise willing to help them,” I nodded, grimly. “Either the Contramara, or one of their rivals.”
“Exactly. Even if that alliance is temporary, which it always is in Farise, it could be fateful. If Merwyn gets ahold of the place for any length of time, it will change the way trade is done in the Shattered Sea, and much to our detriment. Enough to cause the Remerans to leave the kingdom, and that’s just one of the challenges that would result.
“The problem needs to be solved. So how are you going to solve it? You can take Farise by force. But you can never conquer it. And you can spend your entire life trying and die a frustrated man.”
I sighed. “I don’t really have time for that. I think my first step is to investigate thoroughly before I mobilize any troops. You understand how reluctant I am to commit to this,” I reminded him.
“Minalan, you’re already committed to it,” he argued, setting down his glass to refill his pipe. “Rard is expecting results. The reward is incentive, but secondary to the necessity of ending the threat to the kingdom. Take what time you need to figure out how, but you’re the only one I know who might have a chance,” he said, without a hint of flattery.
“I said I’d investigate, and I will,” I assured him. “What restrictions is Rard placing on me? You’re the Court Wizard, I assume you can speak for him.”
“I am empowered by His Majesty to do just that. There are no restrictions. He trusts your judgment implicitly,” Loiko assured.
“Foolish man,” I snorted. “Tell him I’ll do it – I truly will. But I have to do it my own way – in secret. Even from him. I don’t need Tavard and Grendine overseeing my every move. They’ve agreed not to bother my holdings already, but I mislike the idea of submitting my plans to my rival for approval.”
“You have complete freedom to resolve this matter, on the king’s orders,” he agreed. “I can draw up a royal charter to that effect, if you wish.”
“That would be lovely,” I agreed. “As for me, officially, the Marshal Arcane is in retreat, pursuing his research, and should not be disturbed for anything less than a direct and imminent threat to the realm,” I informed him, after some thought. “Don’t bother me with the war in Merwyn, ask my advice about affairs at court, or interrupt me unless the dragon is in the castle and has reached my door.” I warned.
“Understood,” he nodded deferentially.
“All future sessions with the dukes and counts are postponed indefinitely,” I decided. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to pick Tavard’s brain for his masterful plan of conquest, and I don’t have the time to spare if you want this done properly.”
“Completely reasonable,” Loiko agreed. “I’m certain they can find other activities to entertain them.”
“I’m also not going to draw on the kingdom’s treasury for this,” I added. “I’ll fund it myself, so if things go completely into the chamberpot I’ll have no one to blame but myself.”
“A wise move,” he conceded. “And very gracious.”
“That means that I control this effort,” I concluded. “I don’t need to give anyone regular reports, or explain myself to the court, or request permission for anything. I’ve earned that,” I pointed out.
“So you have,” he approved.
I spent a quiet few moments puffing on my pipe and staring into the fire myself, trying to think if there was anything else. I let each of the available ancient memories have a go at it, and while they suggested some interesting demands, I decided that I had enough to start with.
“So tell me, Loiko, with your experience as the governor general, what would you advise me is the most important thing I need to do? Something you wish you had known before you were put in charge.”
The Wenshari warmage looked thoughtful for a moment, and studied his pipe before igniting it.
“Pay close attention to the puppet shows in the markets,” he revealed. “They’re far more important than you think.”
Chapter Four
Minalan the Moody
Different archmagi took different approaches to how they worked through a problem. Some used music, reading, sex, poetry (reading or writing), or intuitive magic to suggest solutions, while others might rely on consultations with their advisors, the Staff of the Archmagi, or even the Privy Council. Deliberating over a course of action can take many forms, for a wise man. Me, I favor brooding.
From the Notebooks of Minalan the Spellmonger
I was moody for the next few days after Loiko returned to the capital. Our talk had given me a lot to think about.
I shuffled around the castle, working on various ongoing projects, and generally avoiding deep discussions with anyone but Alya, and occasionally Pentandra by means of mind-to-mind communication. Both of them knew me well enough to detect my irritation, as well as appreciate the cause of it. While both were openly sympathetic, neither really understood my reluctance. Unsurprisingly, Pentandra was more direct than my wife.
Min, you understand the political necessity of dealing with Farise, she lectured me as I prepared another batch of kirsieth sap for conversion into irionite in my workshop. Rard is helpless to do anything about it. Anguin is still trying to get his ducal fleet organized, and it will be more than a year before he can move against Farise. Remere is unwilling to commit their warships without assistance from elsewhere. They don’t want to pay for it, either. And Castal’s fleet . . . well, despite the tremendous effort they’re investing in building it up, it’s still barely worth mentioning.
I sighed as I checked the composition of the kirsieth sap in the big glass beaker I was working with. My reluctance had nothing to do with the comparative fleet strength of the duchies.
It’s not just a matter of naval power, I answered, as calmly as possible. I just spent a day with Loiko Vaneren to get a feel for what I will have to face. It was not encouraging.
It’s not the same situation as Loiko faced, Pentandra argued. He was in charge of a long-term occupation against a robust insurgency. You’re attempting a simple invasion and conquest against a band of thugs and pirates pretending to be a government.
I chuckled to myself at her assessment. A ‘simple’ invasion and conquest? I challenged. There’s nothing simple about invading Farise. It’s damn difficult by sea, and it’s almost impossible by land. I know. I did it, once.
You didn’t have irionite or snowstone or interdimensional portals back then, she reminded me. Nor did you have a dedicated cadre of the best warmagi in history at your command. No need for you to march down the peninsula again. Compared to the first invasion, this should be simple for the mighty Spellmonger. She paused for a moment. I’m beginning to think that you’re coming up with excuses why you can’t, she observed.
Of course I am, I replied, as I cast a quick thaumaturgic spell to verify the composition of the tree sap – it was well within my established range, I noted with satisfaction. That’s because I don’t want to do it. I have little interest in Farise, outside of it being part of the Wizard’s Mercantile. And not even the largest part anymore. I’m finding it hard to justify that level of effort for a piece of territory I neither want nor need
It’s not about what you need, Minalan, it’s about what the kingdom needs, she explained, patiently. This needs to be done.
I don’t want to start another war that’s going to get a lot of people killed and ruin the lives of the rest. Rard once did that to me and a whole bunch of others. I’m still a little resentful about that, I answered, as I began to prepare the iron molds with a thaumaturgical paste I’d developed, It seemed to quicken the formation of irionite spheres when applied as a layer between the kirsieth and the iron casing. There was a lot of finely powdered snowstone involved with that.
If you can’t do it, no one else can, Pentandra predicted, stubbornly.
I never said I couldn’t do it, I countered. I said I was reluctant to do it. The more I learn about the place, the more reluctant I am. It’s going to be hard, require a lot of work, and I have serious concerns about even a successful result. I am not questioning my ability to take Farise, I reasoned, I am questioning the wisdom of doing it.
If you can’t do it, no one else can, she repeated. But that doesn’t mean no one else will try, she continued. Including me.
That was a purposeful challenge, I knew. Penny was usually pretty careful not to invoke our friendship in any serious way during these types of discussions. While she was fully capable of doing so, I knew she disliked that sort of emotional manipulation in her personal life. She reserved that sort of thing for when it really mattered to her.
Ordinarily, I would resent that sort of thing, too – but this was Pentandra. By telling me she would attempt to do what I refused to she was letting me know just how important the matter of Farise was. Both to her and the kingdom. It was a double edged challenge, too: she was invoking my pride while threatening to try – and fail – if I disappointed her. I sighed.
Penny, it’s not that I can’t do it, or I won’t, it’s that I don’t bloody want to, I explained. I’m willing to look around and investigate the situation, but I’m not promising anything yet. If I think the cost of conquest is more than its worth then Rard and Anguin will just have to find another way.
She was silent for a moment, although I could feel her mind churn on the other side of the connection as I began to pour the kirsieth compound into each copper-wrapped iron cell in my apparatus.
I suppose I can’t ask you for any more than that, she finally admitted. If we have trusted you this far, I suppose we can trust you to make the right decision on Farise.
It would be helpful if I had the Garden Society’s latest report on the situation before I go, I suggested as I began to ladle the compound with a precise measuring spoon. I’m not completely ignorant of the place, but its been fifteen years since I was there. Anything your spies could tell me about the current situation could prove helpful.
I think I can get approval for that, she agreed. Rardine is very anxious to have this matter concluded. She hates pirates. Sometime this week?
The day after Luin’s Day, in Sevendor, I proposed as I filled the last vial in the set. I need to see to a few matters before I plunge into this. But after Luin’s Day I should be free to devote some time to this.
Anything that Alshar can do to help, let me know, she assured, gratefully. I know you can do this, Min. In fact, I know you can do this right, without getting a bunch of people killed. If any one can, it’s you.
I ended the conversation after that, because the initiation process for making irionite requires a lot of attention. But as I energized the copper matrix and placed the apparatus on the snowstone platform that contained the time distortion spell, part of my mind violently disagreed with her.
I had serious doubts that I could manage something as complicated as Farise without getting a bunch of people killed. Starting a civil war in a distant land that would be fought largely with mercenaries was one thing – that was standard feudal conquest between rivals using well-understood rules.
But attacking Farise would be a slaughter. It had been the first time. Civilians would be killed, and likely in large numbers. Followed by a protracted insurgency that would kill yet more, compounding the suffering. Life was cheap in Farise even in the best of times, I knew. An invasion would make it nearly intolerable, whatever the outcome. That troubled me greatly.
Alya, thankfully, took my moodiness in stride for a few days. She was wary of my fits of madness and was watchful when my emotions visibly changed. When she saw me in a fit of melancholy she gave me some distance and checked on me periodically.
I understood her wariness and respected it. When your husband can be any one of a number of people at any given time, a cautious approach is warranted. I was even grateful for it. It gave me an opportunity to vent my thoughts to a friendly ear. One who was used to my whining and did not mistake it for weakness.
But the best thing about Alya was that she was there on the pillow beside me when I wake up sweating and screaming and panting for breath in the middle of the night. That happened, sometimes. With the collective trauma of nine souls infecting my subconscious, the number of times some horrible ancient memory manifested in my dreams was substantial.
Only this time it wasn’t some massacre that occurred tens of thousands of years ago or some profoundly disturbing knowledge about the nature of the universe under some strange sky that awakened me.
No, this time the memory was all Minalan’s. Authentic. Primal. Terrifying.
“You’re all right, Minalan, you’re all right!” Alya urged as I came into consciousness in a panic, my skin clammy and my eyes flashing in the darkness. Alya wrapped her arms around me and began rubbing my damp hair. The Handmaiden stirred from where she had parked herself next to the bed, but she did not intervene. “You’re here in your bed with me, and you’re safe!” she assured me. She kept rubbing my hair until my breath slowed and my hands quit shaking.
“Water?” she asked, quietly. I nodded, and she slid out of bed. “What was it this time?” she asked, lightly, as she waved her hand over the activation node of a magelight on the bedpost. A dim globe of arcanely produced photons appeared on either side of the bed.
I waited until she returned with a cup of water before I answered, hoarsely.
“The jungle. A village in the jungle. I—” I started to panic again.
“Shhh!” she said, sitting next to me on the bed, pushing me to drink. “Was it . . . your jungle? Or one of the others?” she asked.
“Mine,” I moaned, after taking a sip. My mouth felt as parched as a desert. I drained the cup. “Definitely mine. It’s all this talk about Farise,” I explained with a gloomy sigh. “Rard wants me to go there. To conquer it. Pentandra does, too. And Anguin and Rardine.”
“Only you really don’t want to,” she supplied, as she refilled my cup from the ewer near the bed.
“Not even a little bit,” I agreed, fervently. “It’s not that I’m a coward—”
“I don’t think anyone could accuse you of that,” she observed as she handed me the cup again. This time I sipped it. “But I also understand why you don’t want to. You’ve told me enough about it. Farise wounded you.”
