Rolf learns a bit about life in Ponticar, while Elena discovers information that may help her make her way from Arenal.
Chapter 4
Mayor's Palace, Ponticar
The pigeon swooped down gracefully to a landing on the coop atop the Mayor's Palace. An attendant gently cradled the bird and freed the message from its leg before putting it into the shed, where it was rewarded with food. He hurried down the steps from the tower, recognizing the red string that denoted a priority message. He did not know what was in the message of course, but he could guess its subject matter at least. This bird had come from the North, and there was nothing more pressing right now than the delegation of Northmen who were supposed to be coming to Arenal.
The Mayor was working at his desk when the man was shown into his office. He immediately stopped what he was doing and reached for the small scroll. “Call a meeting of the Council in two hours,” he ordered. That would give him time to read what was in the message and decide what to do with the information.
When the Council filed into the meeting room two hours later, Feodorsson was still mulling over his options. Originally, the plan had been to keep the delegation in Arenal and travel there to meet with them. He had discussed the possibility of allowing a small group to travel to Ponticar, with the intention of tightly controlling what they saw and presumably amazing the outlanders with the size, prosperity and power of the city. He still was torn--there did not seem to be an obvious choice.
“I have had a message from Arenal,” he said, immediately bringing the meeting to order. “We must consider what to do and consider it quickly.”
“What is in the message?” Master Toomey asked. His Guild had been after him constantly for information about the current political situation. Information that would mean profit for the man clever enough to turn it to his advantage.
“A description of our guests and a brief description of their purpose, at least their purpose as they've outlined it to the Provincial Governor. By the way, apparently, the Northerners feel that one hundred armed horsemen constitute a small escort. And it seems certain that there is magic associated with them." He glanced quickly at Thorin Servinsson before continuing. "We planted several magicians in the Governor's official household. None has been able to penetrate the rooms where the northern diplomats are staying. There is some sort of blocking spell in place they cannot overcome.”
“That's serious,” exclaimed the head of the Bakers Guild. “We cannot allow such people on our land. Have you ordered the Governor to arrest them?”
“On what charges? That’s hardly the way to open negotiations. What concerns me more is their message to the Governor. They have officially 'requested' diplomatic relations. In short, they wish to establish an embassy in Arenal.”
“And how soon would this begin?” asked Admiral Johansson.
“They wish official confirmation within a week that this delegation is, in fact, recognized as the Ambassadors for the Children of Heaven. Neatly done, I must admit. It gives the perfect excuse for bringing so many soldiers with them. Security forces.”
General Erickson had received his own message, as Mayor Feodorsson knew he would. The General caught the Mayor's eye and received a small nod in response. “When does our delegation travel to their capital, assuming we approve of this?” he asked, already knowing the answer but following the Mayor's unspoken wish in bringing the subject into the open.
The Mayor rubbed his nose delicately. “It would seem,” he said, “that our new acquaintances cannot allow infidels into their sacred city. They are willing to allow us to build a camp several miles into their territory, at which place they will gladly meet with whoever we choose as Ambassador.”
The room exploded into a dozen voices. Feodorsson waited patiently for a moment, then held up his hand for silence. “We will refuse this, of course, but it is extremely important to consider just how we refuse it. It speaks volumes about either their arrogance or their power that they would make such a request. Governor Thorvald does not believe them to be unintelligent. On the contrary, he reports he is most favorably impressed with their knowledge of our system and the way in which it operates. At the same time he reports the Charians, for so they call themselves, are not very forthcoming with details about their society. Suggestions, gentlemen?”
“My fleet is ready to sail at a moment's notice,” Johansson stoutly declared. “I suggest a joint operation with the army. We can ferry two complete Legions to Arenal in less than two days if the winds are favorable. We could sail farther north and land them in Charian territory, but I would advise against that, except in an extreme emergency.”
“I have no intention of invading them,” the Mayor assured the group. “I will not allow an embassy without reciprocal gestures on their part, something they must be aware of. So what I really need to do is refuse this in such a way as to allow them some discretion in revealing their real message.”
“What do they want, then?” Toomey asked.
“They want to come here, of course,” Servinsson said. “They want to come to Ponticar, and this is the perfect excuse for it because we will have to ask them.”
The Mayor nodded. “I think you are right, Master Servinsson. I had wondered about the feasibility of doing this from the very beginning, with the purpose of showing them how powerful we really are. I had assumed they could have nothing to equal Ponticar in their own land and thought they might be so impressed as to be amenable to whatever we might suggest. A lesson in humility I must admit, since they are obviously more well prepared and powerful than we ever thought. Still, it is best to know your enemy.”
“What makes you think they want to come here?” Toomey asked belligerently. “There's nothing in their message to suggest that.”
“They know we will refuse their request,” Servinsson answered. “They also know we will offer something in return or run the risk of offending a diplomatic mission, which we will not do without cause. They have not given us cause, merely put forth a request. The obvious sticking point is the exchange of embassies, and negotiations over such a point can only be done in person, face to face with the ones with the power to make such decisions. If they are familiar with our system, they will know the Governor could not possibly make such a decision on his own but would refer it to the capital. What better way to receive an invitation? And since we will be inviting them, it follows that they will have full diplomatic immunity. Subtle and well thought out.”
“I think Master Servinsson speaks the truth,” the Mayor murmured. “I had not made up my mind when we began, but the more I think on this, the more I think we need to meet these men.”
“You'll establish an embassy here?” Master Taalin asked.
“Perhaps. If they agree to one in their capital. Can the Magician's Guild create a chamber somewhere that would be resistant to any counterspells? One where we could overhear what they plan if they discuss it?”
“Given what you have told me already, I doubt it. This may be a case for something more mundane than magic. I would suggest spying on them with human agents rather than magical ones. My Guild would be happy to try using spells, which should be detected by these Charians and neutralized. If we did not do this, they would certainly get suspicious, especially here at the center of our empire.”
“That makes sense,” General Erickson agreed. “We can also increase the normal escort so they see soldiers everywhere, without being overtly threatening.”
“See to it,” the Mayor ordered. “I will relay instructions to Thorvald to request the Charians consider traveling here to Ponticar. I would be surprised indeed if they refused. I will also instruct the escort to travel slowly. The more time it takes, the more chance we have of finding out what they want before they request it. General, you should send orders under a separate cover to your commander with specific instructions. Also order him to provide information on a daily basis so we can monitor where they are and what they are doing. Gentlemen, we will meet again when I receive word back from Arenal.”
The Lower End, Ponticar
Rolf's new existence was one of dual identities. During the daylight hours, he assisted Dark in his presentations, surprising himself by becoming adept at shilling for the street magician. Rolf soon mastered a sort of half-sarcastic, half-witty banter that more than doubled Dark's previous income. Dark reluctantly admitted as much one night over dinner, which prompted Rolf to ask for and get a cut of the take. He was carefully hoarding his share against the day he could leave Ponticar.
Nights were different and Rolf wondered just what their clientele would make of their activities after the sun went down. He looked on the nocturnal experiences as his true education. Dark used much of the time to teach Rolf magic, a more powerful and aggressive type than his old mentor, Master Robinson, had imparted to him back in Pigton.
He mentioned this once to Dark and was rewarded with a laugh at his innocence. “Boy, there is nothing either good or bad about any kind of magic. Get that through your head right now. So-called White Magicians and Black Magicians are using the exact same Force. Do you understand? The same Force. The only thing that determines whether magic is black or white is the intent of the user. Nothing else.”
“But these spells are so different from what I was taught, so much more powerful.”
Dark rolled his eyes, a reaction he had often when working with Rolf. “Unless your teacher was a complete idiot he wouldn't have taught you anything else when he began. Do you expect a child to run before it knows how to walk? He obviously intended you to polish your education at the Institute where they would introduce you to the 'higher magics'.”
“If you think he should have waited, then why are you teaching me so quickly?” Rolf asked.
“Situation's changed a bit, wouldn't you say? You are not the same naive lad who walked through these walls two months ago now are you? Got a price on your head too, I wouldn't be surprised. I can save your life, or rather some of these charms and spells might, if you learn them in time. Besides, I'm not a
member of the Institute, so I do what I think is best.”
Rolf had said nothing more that night. In fact, he was grateful to be learning the things Dark had to teach him. He never for one moment forgot that Lothar and his family would be looking for him. In a city the size of Ponticar he thought he could stay hidden for a long time, maybe years if need be, but what if he did not want to spend the rest of his life in this metropolis? He tried to learn as quickly as he could.
Although Dark did not let on, he was impressed with Rolf's abilities. The easier spells he soaked up in minutes, and even the more complex incantations seldom took more than a few days to master. He had known magicians who spent months, sometimes years, accomplishing the same thing.
“Why are we able to do these things and others can't?” Rolf asked one day as they sat in the shade waiting for the lunch break on the docks. They found that to be their most lucrative time, when the workers were relaxed and full of ale and food. “I was taught that not everyone could be a wizard, and I know it's true . Master Robinson used to test every boy for miles around, and usually the class only had two or three students at most. I was the only one he was tutoring before I left.”
“No one knows,” Dark replied thoughtfully. “Might as well ask why one man is tall and another short, why one can juggle and another never seems to pick up the skill. Seems we're each born with the ability to do certain things and the lucky ones are those who find out what their abilities are.”
“What about women?”
Dark squinted at him. "What about them? Do you think of nothing else? Didn't I take you to Madame Josie's just last night?”
Rolf blushed. “No, not that. I mean, why aren't women ever magicians?”
“Who said they weren't?”
“Well, I never saw any at the Institute,” Rolf insisted. “And Master Robinson never tested girls, just boys. I figured there was some reason females couldn't handle this type of thing.”
Dark shifted around so he could look at Rolf more closely. There was a shadow of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “And just why do you think women could not handle this type of thing as you put it?”
“Well...it's powerful for one thing. A magician has to be strong enough to channel these forces, and I always thought girls were too frail for it.”
“You really are something, boy. You know, it was worth picking you off the streets for the entertainment value alone. You said you never saw women at the Institute, correct? And where did your Master Robinson receive his education? At the Institute, of course. I realize you haven't seen much of Ponticar other than the Lower End, but what is your impression about the status of women in this city? See any women merchants, do you? Officials? Captains on the ships?”
“Of course not. Women couldn't do those jobs. Anyone knows that. I mean, they could probably be officials or something, but sail a boat? That takes strength and men are stronger.” Rolf wondered what Dark was getting at. Certainly he did not mean to suggest that a woman could do a man's job, did he?
“I see. You've been watching the ships come and go for close on a month now, haven't you? Tell me when exactly you saw any of the captains lift a finger to load or unload cargo.”
Rolf realized that it was true . The captains usually headed right for the Harbormaster's office, where they filled out whatever paperwork was pertinent to their voyage. But that was because they were captains. Surely, they had once been common sailors, where physical strength was important. He said as much to Dark, and the other laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“I see we will have to work more closely on your observational skills. Being a good magician means paying attention to details as well as knowing what words to chant. The real running of every ship falls to the Mate, which you would know if you had been watching any of the vessels here. He does all of the supervision involved in seeing that the ship functions the way it should, including the hiring and firing of sailors. Didn't you watch the Mate off the Black Eagle in the inn the other night? He spent the whole evening interviewing hands for the next voyage.”
Rolf had to admit seeing him, but he had thought he was just following his captain's orders.
“Not at all. The captain puts up the money, and he is supposedly in charge of the ship, but the real work is done by the Mate. A good captain allows his Mate a lot of authority, bad ones don't and sailors won't work long on such ships. Don't make assumptions about things until you've studied them. Remember that, it might save your life someday. Suspect the answer that 'everyone knows'. It's usually wrong.”
“Fine, you’ve made your point. What about women magicians?” Rolf came back to his original question.
Dark got a faraway look in his eyes for just a moment. “I know a land where there were women wizards as powerful as any in Ponticar. In fact, some say that women take more easily to certain spells than men do. In that place, fertility spells are laid on the crops each spring by priestesses, and they are honored. Women aren't considered for the Institute here because women are not considered men's equals here.”
“But surely that's right, isn't it?” Rolf asked. “You don't think men and women are equal, do you? Most women couldn't last a day working here on the docks.”
“Don't confuse muscle power with strength. You've a lot to learn about women, boy. Thank the gods I don't have to be your teacher there,” Dark said with a laugh.
“Who will?” Rolf could not help asking.
“I don't know. You obviously haven't met her yet. On your feet, the lunch shift is starting. Let us see if we can dazzle these seamen out of a silver piece or two this time, eh?”
Rolf dutifully went to work on the crowd, but he could not get Dark's statements out of his head. He had never questioned the status of men and women other than to be thankful he had been born a male. He remembered watching his sisters going about the household chores and being grateful he at least got to work outside each day in the sunshine and fresh air. Now that he thought about it though, he realized that it was his mother who made all the decisions regarding the household itself and how it was run. His father, a man as big and strong as an ox, would always follow her instincts when it came to the welfare of the family. He wondered why he hadn't seen it before and swore to re-think things before coming to conclusions.
The Roaring Bull, Arenal
Elena wondered if her father might have been right after all. The Charians turned out to be no different from the people she had been associated with all her life, other than some superficial physical differences. They were assigned two dozen of the soldiers making up the escort, and she had been kept on her feet day and night seeing to their needs. Like their own soldiers, this consisted mainly of keeping their mugs filled, though they did have prodigious appetites. It had taken less than two days to almost completely exhaust the kitchen's store of breads and meats. She had thought she had enough to last a week, but soon found herself scrambling to keep up with their demands.
She did learn one interesting thing. The armor that had glinted so weirdly in the sunlight was supposedly made from dragon scales, or so the Charians told her. To demonstrate, they had tossed a breastplate into the fire and left it there for more than an hour. She had been amazed to watch a man pull it out with his bare hands. She tentatively reached out to feel it and the surface was as cool and undamaged as when it was tossed in. That would be good for a story but was hardly the sort of information that would keep people coming back night after night.
More promising, she supposed if one could look at it that way, was the positively insatiable urges the men had for women. She had resisted their suggestions so far herself, but the serving girls were not so reluctant, and they were apparently well rewarded, both in money and in satisfaction, if she was any judge of the expression on their faces when they came back downstairs.
“Come on, Elena, hurry up with that roast,” her father complained, poking his head into the kitchen. “They're starting to get impatient, and the last thing I want is two dozen angry Charians.”
“I'll have it there in five minutes,” she promised. She brushed her stringy hair out of her eyes with the swipe of a greasy arm and fetched a platter and pile of plates. She shoved them at one of the girls and plopped the roast on the platter, then whirled into the common room where she was greeted by a cheer.
The rest of the evening was more of the same, and Elena was exhausted by the time the last of the fire had died down to embers and most of the soldiers had trudged upstairs to their beds. She saw two of the Charian officers talking quietly over their drinks and sighed. No rest yet. She wished they would hurry with whatever they were talking about so she could collapse into her own bed for a few hours of badly needed sleep.
“More beer?” she asked, hoping they would refuse so she could close up.
One waved her away without looking. “So we're to march to Ponticar, then? Excellent,” he said with satisfaction.
Elena put the pitcher back on the bar and began wiping the countertop without changing her expression. But she was wide awake now, all of her senses alert. Ponticar! They were going to be leaving the city. There was certain to be people from Arenal going with them or at least following the column, and she meant to be one of them. This was her chance.
“When do we leave?”
“When Kubla decides, what else? But I was given orders to see that the men were ready to march in two days. That's why I didn't stop them from carousing tonight. This will have to last them quite some time. We won't be so close to home in Ponticar, will we?”
His companion laughed. “That is true , but it's good to have friends everywhere, is it not?”
“Quiet, you fool! Do you want to lose your head?”
They both glanced at Elena, who was leaning tiredly against the wall, yawning loudly, her eyes half-shut. She saw the two men relax and yawned again, though she was wide awake. She needed to get to her room and think this one through.
“Are you two just about done? I'd like to clean up and get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
They nodded and drained their mugs. One threw a silver coin on the table as they headed to their rooms. Elena pocketed the coin and absent-mindedly wiped down the table. She did not know how yet, but she knew that in two days she would be leaving Arenal. Ponticar. Ponticar. She kept repeating the name over and over again in her head. Elena of Ponticar. That had a nice sound to it. She knew nothing about the great city other than the fact that it was the seat of all the power in the empire. Surely in a place like that a spirited woman could make a go of it doing something. The fact that all she really knew how to do involved running a tavern never crossed her mind for an instant.
It wasn't until she was lying in the darkness of her room later that the significance of the Charian's words came back to her. Friends in Ponticar, was it? That could mean a multitude of things but the obvious conclusion was spies. Guntor would be grateful for that tidbit. Grateful enough to secure her a place in whatever caravan would be following the Charians? Perhaps, if she played her cards right. Now, how best to use the information?
Born of their seeds, kingdom will rise against kingdom, one will hold great mysteries, one will turn the tide and one will not be bound. War is fought, not only on the field but also within the mind. Nothing is what it seems take nothing for granted.
War is fought, not only on the field, but also within the mind.
Nothing is what it seems, take nothing for granted.
The 10 Mariard Volumes have surfaced. The gifted are fighting for you. Do you have the right to become an entity? Take the cha
The Wizard and the Warlord - The Wardstone Trilogy-Book III** is the gripping conclusion to the epic fantasy trilogy that M. R. Mathias wrote in a Texas prison. This compelling volume brings the elves, dwarves, giants, and the dragons into the story
Chapter 4
