Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?          Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty

 

Chapter 3: Twisted Paths

 

Two days after they had faced Worelt and his mercenary company, Ceniro woke up in the tent he shared with Pent to find the sage sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, fiddling with tiny bits of metal and glass.

“What is that?” Ceniro asked after a moment. He had to ask three more times before Pent even looked up from what he was doing.

“This?” Pent replied at last, as if startled. “It’s a toy I’ve been working on for the past few days, actually. You always fall asleep so quickly you miss seeing it. It’s almost done, though. Just another hour or so and I can start messing with enchantments.”

“It’s a magic toy?”

Pent grinned. “If I told you what it was, you probably wouldn’t call it a toy. Be that as it may, it is indeed a magic toy. I brought the pieces with me; I hadn’t had time to finish it before we left Wrigley.”

“I see,” said Ceniro, though he didn’t. Pent reached out and patted his shoulder.

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay. You’ll see soon enough.”

 

A cloaked and hooded figure met with an armoured one in a dimly lit room in Aquleia…

“Roartz, what is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning of it, my dear Arcard, is that I want you to lay off the search for that jewel. Let the others kill each other for it and remove themselves from play.”

“But… why? They may suspect me, but they have found none of my pawns yet. This jewel will give us the power to topp-“

“Not this time, no. The monarchy is too stable; not even having the jewel’s power on our side will give us the prestige and popularity to succeed in a rebellion or even a coup. I have a meeting with the King in three hours, at which time I will inform King Mordred of Count Reglay’s quest. This will create friction between the king and his ‘beloved’ General Douglas, who is of course one of Reglay’s closest supporters, and accuse him of keeping secrets. Bide your time. Cover your tracks. The time to act may not be in the next few years, but rest assured, I am doing all I can to make it come.”

“I… understand, Lord Roartz. It will be so.”

 

Pent and Ceniro were still following that river into the mountains. Pent had slowed down and was taking more time now to speak with villagers in the little settlements they passed. He asked them about mercenaries and soldiers in the area, and then move on to talking about St. Elimine. Most often, they reacted with astonishment when he told them of St. Elimine’s Staff. In one village, one old, old man only seemed surprised by the fact that Pent knew of the staff as well, but could not tell him anything he didn’t already know. Pent would often take the ‘toy’ out of his pocket and tinker with it for a few minutes while he was waiting, saying he liked to keep his hands busy while thinking. Ceniro wondered why he hadn’t seen it before, and then realized they had been walking most of the previous days.

The next village after that, a few hours travel away, was more promising. The elders there told Pent of the amazing healing powers the staff was said to have, saying that if there was only a breath of life in a person, the jewel would restore them to full health. Old age it could do nothing for, but injuries it was near-miraculous. It could not just heal one person at a time, too, but had a wide range, like a Fortify Staff, but much greater.

Soon after noon, Pent presented the little device he had been working on to Ceniro, saying “Wave your hand over it and see what happens.”

It was a flat silver oval, with flat surfaces of glass and some strange-looking spots and tiny dials set into the surface. Ceniro held the thing with one hand and waved at it with the other, waited, and gasped and had to sit down.

The largest flat glass surface had begun to glow with magic. A tiny white flash sprang up into the sky and faded. Seconds later, over the glass, a landscape appeared in glowing blue.

But what had really struck awe into the young man was the appearance of a tiny village on the landscape with two tiny (but oversized for the village) figures clearly recognizable as Pent and Ceniro. Nearby were other tiny figures showing Fiora, Priscilla, George, Caddie, Albert, and Cavven, and even some villagers.

Ceniro looked back up at Pent with his mouth hanging open. “T-thi-this…”

“I call it a farseer. Different from a telescope, you know? Oh, stop staring like that. You look like your eyes are going to fall out of your head!”

“Is it really for me?”

“Who else is going to use it? Here, let me show you how to work it.”

Pent sat down on the bench next to Ceniro and showed him what different things on the farseer could do. “Oh, I know! Try touching Cavven – yes, like that. Now say something to him!”

“Cavven?”

“Huh? Wha-? Ceniro…? Where are you?” Cavven’s tiny figure began to run back and forth, utterly confused.

Pent laughed heartily. “All right, call them all over and show them.”

Ceniro drew a circle around all the friendly figures on the map, excluding the villagers, and said: “Everyone come to the inn. Pent and I have something to show you.”

The movement of the tiny people was very fast, and it was truly astonishing to look up and see all those people he knew come in real life quickly down the street, looking worried. When they saw Pent laughing and Ceniro looking delighted, they relaxed.

The tactician jumped up. “Look at this! Pent made it. It’s a farseer, and it’s magic.”

“Is that how you scared me?” Cavven demanded in a bit of a huff, his Fibernian accent more pronounced than usual.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t even know it would do that.”

“In other words, blame Lord Pent,” Caddie said, giving Cavven a slap on the back.

“But see, you can see everyone, and what weapons they’re using, and if they’re hurt, and the surrounding countryside, and… if anyone’s coming…”

Pent jumped up. “What’s the matter? Is someone coming?”

“Yes, and they’re marked red, which I assume is hostile, because we’re all in blue and the villagers are in green. See, from the north, a lot of axes, lances… mages, but only one archer. And a… general-class. Well, that will be no problem. Here’s what we’ll do if they truly are hostile…”

 

An hour later, the valley floor was covered with the bodies of ex-hostile soldiers and a troop of opportunistic bandits that had attempted to raid the villages in the chaos. The approaching soldiers had been demanding that the villagers surrender Lord Pent to them in the name of Lord Blier before they even reached the village, and the count had gone out to talk to them with his little company around him. Fortunately for him, the soldiers had been spread out across the valley, allowing Pent’s forces to engage them pretty much piecemeal as soon as the closest ones attacked. Ceniro had discovered that he could talk to his fighters without the enemy being able to hear anything more than his fighters’ replies, and also that he couldn’t talk to the enemy through the farseer. But he could hear everything that his fighters could hear.

He had lost no one, and while the last few enemy soldiers were being subdued, Pent went to confront the general of the opposing army.

The general looked around with trepidation. “My invincible army! What has happened? You outnumbered those insects! You were supposed to protect me!”

“Who are you?” Pent asked, stepping up to him.

The general flinched and took half a step back. “Count Reglay! You-you have met your match here!”

Pent looked around in confusion. “You mean that army? Rather a lot just for one man? Oh, wait, I have one of the most brilliant tactical minds in the world on my side, aided, abetted, and augmented with magic…”

“Don’t puff yourself up, Reglay!”

“I’m not. He’s over there, helping my archer knock out a mountain-thief. Anyway, you still haven’t answered my question. Who are you? And why are you trying to stop me?”

The general removed his helmet. “Tremble, for I am Lord Blier! You shall never reach that jewel, for it is mine! Mine!”

Pent shook his head in disgust. “You just want it because it’s shiny. Blier, you’re an idiot.”

Blier was shaking, but now with rage. “No one calls me an idiot! You shall die for this!”

The sage smiled easily, though his eyes were like steel. “Ceniro? Is this going to plan?” He kept his eyes on Blier, sidestepping a clumsy charge. “Just checking. Thank you!”

A few minutes later, they reconvened near the village. Caddie had taken some more serious injuries, but Priscilla and Pent healed him together.

“Well, that was interesting,” Pent said when they had finished. “I never would have figured Blier one to do his own dirty work. He must have really lusted after that gem.”

“Do you think he knew what it could do, sir?” Fiora asked.

Pent snorted. “Not a chance. He wanted it because it was rumoured to be sparkly, or worth a kingdom – the usual pure greed. At least I won’t have to put up with him at court anymore now.”

“There won’t be any repercussions?” Ceniro asked anxiously. “That seems rather odd.”

“Nope,” Pent replied. “Firstly, once they even discover he’s dead, if ever, he was the aggressor and was interfering with me rather than the other way around. And if it goes to the courts, which I think it won’t, I can easily convince King Mordred that the study of the jewel is far more important than having it locked away as a bauble in some idiot’s keep. I would bet my best spellbook, too, that it would have left his possession within a month. I wonder how long he would have lived even if he had found it first.”

Ceniro shivered. Pent looked over at him and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. Blier was a weak coward and the court knew it. I’m not and they know it too.”

“Well, I’m glad of that. Will others come?”

“Oh, they’ll come, all right, like moths to a candle. We’ll take them as they come and, Ceniro, let me worry about the political snarls. You just keep doing what you’ve been doing and I’ll let you know beforehand if you need to do it differently. Today was impressive. We defeated all the enemies, took no losses, and you made it look easy.”

Ceniro smiled and shrugged, embarrassed. “The farseer helped a lot.”

“I wish I could make battles look easy. The only reason I’m the Mage General is because I’m one of the greatest sages in Etruria and I’m younger and more active. The others are all deep in libraries in Aquleia.” Pent’s face showed just how much he would sincerely love to share that fate. “I don’t have your tactical mind, Ceniro. I know how and when to attack as myself, but others across a battlefield – that’s something else.”

“Have you ever fought in a pitched battle, Pent?”

“Ehhh, not as such, no. I was fairly good at the military academy when I did my stint there, but it was a little different. More emphasis on units and less on individuals.”

“I see.”

There was a bit of silence, awkward for Ceniro and cheerful for Pent, until George came with the pack-horse and reported that they were ready to continue travelling.

Pent nodded and pointed directly south. “Let’s aim for the village beyond that mountain, shall we?”

 

The little boy jumped between the girl and the youth towering over them. “Get away from her, Lorad! Stop bothering her!”

The older boy, almost a man, Lorad, with short-cropped purple hair and purple eyes, took a step towards the small boy with blonde hair and defiant grey eyes. “And what are you going to do about it? I just wanna talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, don’t you, Cecilia? I’ll make you leave her alone, I will! It’s my duty as General Douglas’s squire!”

“Duty,” sneered Lorad. “Is that all you’re ever on about, squirt? Sticking your nose in other people’s business, more like. I’ll teach you.”

He took a swing at the boy, who ducked and jumped on him. The green-haired girl shrank back against the wall of the castle hallway.

The scuffle was pretty quiet; neither of the boys bothered to cry out in pain or surprise, and there was just the sound of panting and grunting and scraping feet.

Then Lorad got the upper hand with his greater weight and began hitting the blonde boy in the head viciously. The girl cried out in fear, but a tall figure stepped up behind her and patted her shoulder before wading into the quarrel.

“Lorad! Percival! Stop that this instant!”

Lorad got off the smaller boy sulkily, putting on a shamed face when he saw who was chastising him. It was Rhost, the young knight under Douglas. Percival got up more slowly, glaring at Lorad. He had a split lip and an eye rapidly blackening. Lorad had not gotten off scot-free, either – he put a hand to his side and winced at the bruises he felt there.

But he curled his lip at the squire. “Well, squirt, ‘honour satisfied’ yet?”

“What is this all about?” Rhost demanded angrily, grabbing the collars of both combatants in case they decided to attack each other again.

“E-excuse me, sir…” the girl spoke up timidly, “th-they were fighting about me… I asked Lorad to stop following me, sir, and – and then Percival… jumped in to help me…”

“Has Lorad been bothering you?”

“Y-yes… he follows me everywhere…”

“The brat follows her too!” Lorad cried indignantly. Percival’s hackles rose, and it was only the hand on his collar that prevented him from diving on the other again.

Rhost took a firmer grip on both of them. “Look here, you two, you’re both old enough – especially you, Lorad – to know better than to fight in the hallways. That’s for the sparring grounds. And Lorad, I’m ashamed of you, bothering General Douglas’s charge and then brawling with a squire over it in a vastly unfair fight. You could have seriously injured him! You should remember you’re a soldier of Aquleia, and son of Lord Jonathan!”

Lorad grew sulky again and stalked off, to the final parting call from Rhost of “Don’t ever do that again!”

“Now come with me,” Rhost said to the two children. “We must tell General Douglas of this.” Percival looked away dejectedly.

Douglas looked up with interest from reading as the three entered his chambers. “Well, well, what is this? Percival with a black eye, Cecilia looking frightened out of her wits, and Rhost, you look particularly grim. What’s happened?” As he spoke, he left the chair behind his desk and moved to an armchair by the fire, gesturing for Cecilia to come close to him. When she stood beside his chair he put his hand on hers comfortingly. She looked up at him trustingly.

In quick words, Rhost told what he knew. “Lorad was following Cecilia again, and this time she asked him to leave her alone. He refused and Percival sprang to her aid, though he was getting the worst of it when I happened upon them. I scolded Lorad, but he won’t listen to me, of course.”

“I see,” Douglas said. “Is that true, Percival? What have you to say for yourself?”

Percival had been staring defiantly through his good eye. “Yes, sir, it is true. I couldn’t stand the thought of him bothering a girl I knew – and a girl under your protection, sir. He wasn’t behaving as a true knight should, or even a false knight. Not like a knight at all.”

Douglas smiled. Percival’s language was far too elaborate and proper for a ten-year-old, but it came from the training of his noble parents. “Well spoken, my boy. You did the right thing. I would have done the same in your place, though perhaps with a bit more restraint. It is not right to lose one’s temper, either.”

Percival brightened, standing straighter. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

“May I heal him now, uncle?” Cecilia asked. That was her pet name for him. “I’m getting better.”

“Certainly, child,” Douglas replied. Cecilia ran to find her pupil’s staff and returned with it from her chambers quickly. She raised it over her bowed head, concentrating, and slowly the jewel that topped it began to glow blue. A blue glow slowly began to radiate from the squire, and his black eye faded and his lip mended.

Cecilia lowered her staff, a little out of breath but looking very pleased. “Do you feel better, Percy?”

The boy touched his face. “Yes, it feels much better. Thank you, Cecilia.”

“What shall I do about Lorad?” Rhost asked.

Douglas sighed. “That boy is getting to be a nuisance. I shall speak to his officer about this. I’m afraid you can do nothing at the moment. Thank you for interfering today. I wouldn’t want my best squire to be put out of action so young.”

“I should at least try to remain near Cecilia if I can,” Rhost said. “Not intrusively, but maybe I can take more breaks from reports and walk around a little.”

“That would be a good idea,” Douglas told him. “Make it happen.” He rose, giving his protégés all a pat on the shoulder. “I need to return to work; need to follow up on what the king asked me after I told him about the jewel affair this morning, need to find out what things will happen after Blier catches up with Pent. Thank you for coming to talk to me, all of you. I will see you at dinner!”

“See you at dinner, sir!” they replied, as they left, Percival at an exuberant run, Cecilia skipping behind him. Rhost was last out, striding along with a twinkle in his eye as he watched the two children. As he left the room, he glanced left and right, then smiled as if with relief and was gone down the hallway.

Douglas watched his knight, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. Then he shook it away and bent his head to his reading, smiling.

 

Lesil turned from staring haughtily out the window in a distant castle, bored, to face the darkly cloaked man. “What is it you want? I’ve already been to visit Wrigley. Louise is alone, as you said – unless you count the scholarly purple-haired shrimp who lives in the house with her.”

The cloaked man straightened a little. “Lord Lesil, I don’t have to put up with such language. What I want is merely… to give you what you desire, as a way of obtaining for myself what I desire. Surely you guessed that.”

Lesil cocked his head to one side. “What are you suggesting?”

There might have been a smile within the hood facing him. “All I ask is that you wait on your plans until I give the word. I know of your plans, and they are good ones-“

“How is it you know of my plans?”

“I know many things, my Lord Lesil, and you should go ahead with your plans – but it will be more profitable to me – and therefore, both of us – if you wait until the time is right for me.”

Lesil frowned, thinking it over. “How will I know when your right time is?”

“Aldash will tell you. Be warned – he is half in the pocket of Arcard, and is not to be fully trusted with secrets. I even have to pay out some of his underlings – that boy Lorad is a particular nuisance, though he could prove useful someday.”

Lesil continued frowning, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I’ll take the secrecy under advisement. …Thank you, Lord Eshan.”

 

Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?          Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty