THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter-Spring 2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Eight The soft knocking on the door told Reinald that at least some of his guests were at hand. Before Mulder and Scully had arrived, almost all the business of the Realm had been done in the Council Chamber, among squabbling nobles. Now, most of it was done before the roaring fire that dominated one wall of his sitting room. After all, if the Houses' foolishness didn't get in the way of running Fairwoods, Reinald was happier, Andalor was better advised, and everyone was healthier, or so Kyla said every time the matter came up. The fire also drew them in times of darkness, worry and sorrow. This night, it was as much for comfort as business that the friends came together. "Pitir, be a good boy and get the door," he said, rising to begin preparing tea for his guests. When he turned around, the door had been opened to admit Aldara and Jourdain. In spite of the battle and the injury to Livirnea, Jourdain looked more rested, no doubt buoyed by being once again with his wife. Reinald smiled. The two warriors' love had been born at one of the darkest moments of the Realm's history. In a very real way, they, along with their strangely gifted daughter, were a personification of the Realm's hopes and dreams, struggles and promise. "It is good to see you back, my friend," he said to Jourdain, handing the Guards' Captain a cup of fragrant tea, "and you so happy," he continued to Aldara, winking at both of the warriors. Sobering, he asked, "Has either of you seen Andalor?" "No," Aldara replied, "or at least not since this morning when I spoke with him about Shannon." Yet another topic for discussion in front of the hearth. "I'm sure that he'll be along in a moment," Jourdain said. "He was very worried about Livirnea. No doubt he wanted to look in on the Healer's progress with her before he came here." "I see," Reinald said. A flash of concern passed over his face for the young man whom he loved as a son. "We will have to remind him to be careful about how much time he spends with Livirnea over the next few days," he said with a sigh. "True," Aldara replied. "The last thing we need is for Shannon to blast him as a result of misplaced anger and jealousy." "Blast whom?" Andalor asked from the doorway, his deep violet eyes shadowed with disquiet and weariness. "You," Reinald replied, handing a cup of tea to the King as he sat in another of the room's well-cushioned chairs. "You will have to be very careful that your concern for Livirnea is not misinterpreted as something more by Shannon. Although she will not be 'blasting' you, nor will she be throwing any more Magestorms for a while. I have taken steps to prevent both." Andalor began to protest, but stopped when Reinald held up an admonishing hand. "I know, I know. I remember what Shannon promised earlier and I have no doubt she was sincere and will try her best. But her nature is that of a warrior - fiery, quick to anger. In spite of her best intentions, we would be foolish not to expect... outbursts... from time to time. She will be under great pressure. And pressure can make even the best-tended pot boil over." The King thought over the Royal Mage's words and grudgingly accepted the truth in them. "What is this? Has there been a reconciliation, then?" asked Aldara eagerly. Andalor flashed her a relieved smile. "Yeah. Shannon came and apologized to both Reinald and me. I guess her conversation with Mage Mulder got her thinking. She's promised to work hard to get ready for Ballorca's test. I have a feeling Warrior Healer Scully was also a party to the conversation, one way or another," he went on, musingly. "Shannon can wrap Mulder around her finger without even trying. Scully is a different story, and she's always been the more practical of the two." The half-elven warrior chuckled. "So once more we have to thank the Companions for saving the Realm." "Truer words than you know," Reinald said dryly. "I need not remind you of the calamity which would befall all of us sitting here and the Realm in general should it become known where Shannon comes from. Not to mention our part in keeping that knowledge from the Council of Representatives and the Noble Houses." There was an uneasy silence while each contemplated Reinald's words. "In any case," the Royal Mage declared more brightly, "progress has been made, the lass has turned over a new leaf, and we must all support her as well as we can. No matter how much we may have tried to warn her about the differences between her world and our own, she could not have fully realized that this wasn't a fantasy world. It appears her culture is full of such stories, from what Gunther tells me. In those myths, the princess has few responsibilities, other than choosing the handsome prince. The realities are, of course, quite different. What do you think, Warrior Aldara? After all, you've spent more time with the girl recently than any of us." "I believe that you are right, Mage," she replied softly from where she sat next to Jourdain. "I think if we give her time to work through her feelings about the responsibility that has been laid on her, she will be fine. After all, she is a warrior by aura, and she had already developed a great deal of discipline in her training on the fields. Yet remember how much she resisted even her warrior training at the time. She came around then. I think that sense of discipline will reassert itself and flow into her other work, given time and patience." She smiled encouragingly at Andalor. "Unfortunately, Shannon's training will be set back some days by the injuries Livirnea took on the road from Ranfaus," Jourdain said mournfully. "How is she, Your Majesty?" He sighed. "She is stable, in a healing trance and in no pain. That's the good news. The bad - her recovery will be a long and slow one. Gifted as she is, Kyla is still only one person. Already she appears exhausted by the demands of starting the healing process on Livirnea's injuries. "I don't have to tell you that Livirnea is of tremendous importance to all of us," the King continued. "Not only for the reason Reinald alluded to, her pivotal role in readying Shannon, but also as the daughter of our staunchest political supporter. Without Mandor's aid, the Crown would be in severe trouble. And finally, she is a close friend whom I love as a sister. Because of all these reasons, I have commanded Healer Sirisa and her new apprentice to assist Kyla in bringing Livirnea back to good health as soon as possible." He noted Reinald's look of alarm. "I know, Reinald. But I feel there is little risk that Sirisa will learn anything that could prove... awkward. Her healing duties while Livirnea lies so grievously wounded will be mainly to support the healing stasis and assist in regeneration of blood cells to replace all that was lost. Once that task is done, the healing will not be so complex or demanding that Kyla cannot perform it alone. At that time, Sirisa will return to her other duties. While I believe we could rely on Sirisa's discretion, there is very little chance that she will learn anything of note during her healing sessions with Livirnea. And Kyla already shares our secret. I'm sorry, Reinald," he said, looking up at his mentor. "Perhaps I should have discussed this with the group first, but if you could have seen how pale she was, how much blood she had lost...." He shook himself. "We cannot risk Livirnea's life. Not even if it means our downfall." "I quite agree, my boy," Reinald responded warmly. Jourdain had seemed to age while the King spoke. "I am only sorry I did not protect her better, Your Majesty. Then none of this would have been necessary. Perhaps the time has come for me to consider retirement." "Much as we might miss Mage Mulder, Jourdain, you don't have to take on his habits," Aldara observed. "Guilt doesn't look any better on you than it does on him." Her comment had the desired effect, and the tension that had gripped the room was broken by wry chuckling. Reinald was glad to see that Jourdain joined in. While not as wholehearted as with the others, it was a relief to see the smile lift years from the Guard Captain's visage. "As always, you speak with wisdom," Jourdain said. "Indeed she does, and you would do well to remember it," agreed Andalor. "I do not see how you could have done anything more to prevent this, Captain Jourdain. Furthermore, your quick and decisive action undoubtedly saved Livirnea's life. Once more I am in your debt. So let us hear no more about retirement." "What we need to find out is who is responsible for this atrocity," Aldara declared. But before she could say anything further on the matter, a knock preceded Kyla's entrance, the Professor discreetly offering her a supporting arm. Although warned by the King's speech of moments before, the fact that such support was necessary shook all of them. Although not as gifted a Healer as Corvay had been, Kyla was an excellent practitioner of the art, and a tall, strong, vibrant woman. The fact that she had been badly drained by working on Livirnea's injuries told all of them how serious they were. Jourdain rose quickly in order to help the Professor guide Kyla -- who was in truth both taller and heavier than the older man -- into a chair and then brought a stool over for her to put her feet on. Reinald quickly warmed some restorative tea and brought it to her. "Thank you, Mage," she croaked. The strain that she had faced in keeping Livirnea alive had weakened her voice to a breathless whisper. She noticed Andalor, hunched and miserable by the fire. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she said. "I hadn't realized that you were present." "It is of no consequence, Healer Kyla," Andalor said. "The important thing is that your talents have been well used and I am more grateful than I can express. I am only sorry for the draining effects on you." The Healer waved her hand tiredly. "It is an expected part of my profession. What is more important is that, given several more days' worth of intensive treatments by both Healer Sirisa and myself, she will recover. Full recovery may take several weeks, but she will get there. Had Captain Jourdain not gotten her here when he did, I have no doubt that she would have died. But as things stand now, we can only wait while her body restores the blood that she lost. Then I will be able to assist her in recovering from her injuries." "That is good to hear," Andalor said quietly, the relief that Livirnea would live shining on his young face. This most pressing concern resolved, his attention turned to Aldara's question -- the sequence of events that had brought about many of the problems that they now faced. "Captain Jourdain, you told Reinald that you were attacked by a large band of brigands only a candlemark's ride from the castle?" "That is true," Jourdain replied, his face darkening at the memory. "We were riding quickly, and I had hoped to arrive at the castle by nightfall. The road was unusually quiet, but I assumed that this was due more to the merchants being at the fall festivals than to brigandage. I think we also assumed that flying His Majesty's colors would be enough to protect us from anything that we might meet. Unfortunately, the leader of this band was neither afraid of His Majesty's best soldiers, nor was he a poor tactician. They caught us in a perfect trap, and had at least one archer with them." "An archer with a band of brigands?" asked the Professor in surprise. "I thought that the skills of an archer were very expensive. Surely too expensive for a band of common thieves." Jourdain nodded grimly. "Aye, that has been bothering me as well. Black mages, whose skills could be bought for less than those of an archer, were far more common among such highwaymen. But they have, for the most part, been driven out of the Realm. As a result, archers for hire have become even more expensive and difficult to find. Which means," he concluded, "that this band of brigands is both unusually well financed, as well as unusually skilled in strategy and tactics. "I see," the Professor said, lapsing back into his chair. The implications of this new threat were as clear to him as to everyone else in the room. If the King's own Guard was not safe, then who was? The effect on trade could be devastating. "What happened after the first attack?" Reinald asked. Quickly, Jourdain related the details of the battle. "After we left, Bashar was able to find the archer, and literally cut down the tree from which he was firing. When they lost their advantage, the brigands fled, but only after having killed four of my men, and wounding several others." "You did the right thing by leaving and bringing Livirnea with you," Andalor said. "I know it ran against your instincts to leave your men, but it was the right decision." "That I know," Jourdain said with a sigh. "Still, I did not like having to run like a frightened child, and I hope that I never have to do it again." "Unfortunately, I fear that unless we find out who is sponsoring these brigands, you will have all of the chances to take revenge on them that you could wish for," Aldara said. "You believe that they are being sponsored by someone?" Reinald asked, his concern at this news nearly bringing him out of his chair. Aldara nodded vigorously. "Without doubt. It is the only explanation which fits." Her emerald green eyes solemnly surveyed the group. "Moreover, I do not feel that the ambush was an accident." "What!" cried Reinald. "As Jourdain said, few brigands have the resources needed to recruit an archer. Further, that particular road is not a profitable one on which to hunt right now. The trade caravans passed through that area several weeks ago. A leader smart enough to lay that ambush would also be informed enough to know that. No, I am almost certain there must be a spy here in Fairwoods who reported that Jourdain had been sent to Ranfaus for some vital purpose. No matter the reason, ambushing the Captain of the King's Guard on the road, and possibly killing him, would be of great benefit to any of the Noble Houses. Whatever booty or message might have been carried from Ranfaus to the castle would be a further reward to whomever was responsible for the attack." "True," Jourdain agreed. "It is almost certain that things were arranged as Aldara says, for I could name a hundred better places to set such a powerful force if one were simply interested in plunder and goods. Had Livirnea and Bashar not shown as much sense and skill as they did, things might have turned much more disastrously." "Livirnea's injury might have been an accident - but it might just as easily have been deliberate," Reinald murmured gravely. "Think what the loss of his daughter -- on a mission requested by the King -- would do to Lord Ranfaus. I doubt if we could have expected his House's support in the future. And Goddess knows we need it. Jourdain, do you think that this was an attack on the Crown, Ranfaus, or yourself?" "I think that it was probably an attack on the King and his ability to rule," Jourdain said after a moment's thought. "After all, a successful attack would show the King just how powerful his unknown enemy is, and could make the Crown look weak in the eyes of the Realm. It goes without saying that a successful assassination of His Majesty's Guards' Captain would have been an added benefit," he concluded dryly. "So you don't think that they knew that you would have Livirnea with you?" asked Andalor. Jourdain considered the question. "No," he said finally. "After all, only those of us in this room knew that she was the object of my mission to Ranfaus. Though it is certainly possible that the archer recognized her, and realized that her death would be a further blow to the Crown." "I agree." The group was startled by the sudden decisiveness in the King's tone. "Fortunately, we've got some time before the next trading season. I hope that we'll be able to determine who is responsible for these attacks by then." "We'd better," Aldara said softly. "If we don't, the next trading season will be even bloodier than this season has been, and far too many have died already." Silence fell over the room as each contemplated the possible consequences to the all-too-fragile society that remained in the wake of the Dark Queen's assault. All knew that the Realm could not stand yet more seasons of bloodshed and violence. Finally, the King spoke. "Very well. Jourdain, you will devise a plan to increase security along the roads of the Realm, particularly those most used by the trading caravans. You may have to recruit more guards, and if so, do it. Put out a call throughout all the villages for those with warrior talent. "Captain Aldara - your job will be even more daunting. First, you will of course be in charge of training any new recruits. Then, I want you to do whatever you can to uncover who is behind these attacks. Use whatever sources of information you currently have, and try to extend your network of informants. And finally, and most daunting of all..." "Yes, Andalor?" prompted Aldara. The young King grinned. "Please take over Shannon's history lessons until Livirnea is back on her feet." End of Chapter Eight THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter-Spring 2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One Chapter Nine They were grouped by the glowing embers of a dying hearth. The chamber was luxuriously furnished, though the tapestries that covered the walls were there less for decoration than to cover the cracks made when the destruction of the Great Hall had shaken all of Fairwoods. Few torches were lit so as not to draw attention to the activities within the chamber. The fewer who knew the details, the better. Only the inner circle, those who could be trusted absolutely, gathered to discuss this, the first stage of a plan that could see them rise to the highest stations in the Realm -- or die as traitors. "Mandor's daughter was seriously injured - they say she might yet die," observed one, a young man with old eyes. The tall, austere noble shrugged. "Her injuries were unplanned, but could work well for us. Granted, I would have preferred that Captain Jourdain was struck down, as intended. But the death of the beloved daughter of Ranfaus while under the protection of the King's Guard could deprive Andalor of his strongest ally among the Houses." The young noble looked up. "Her death can be assured, if you desire it." The leader shook his head. "No need, Ruloth. Even if she survives, the alliance between the Crown and Ranfaus will be badly shaken, possibly even as effectively as her death. Either way, we gain. No, let us limit our risk, especially here in Fairwoods, for now." There were grunts of agreement from around the hearth. "Vestor, you are sure there is no way we can be tied to this attack?" The stocky noble, in his rough mercenary's disguise, smiled grimly. "None. The 'brigands' bear no identification and have little love for the King or the law of the Realm. Only their leader knew who was providing the gold and weapons and planning. And, as luck would have it, he perished with a Guard bolt through the chest. The assumption will be what we want it to be - that he was killed by the King's Guard. I chose my moment wisely." The austere older man's lips twitched. "You were born for this kind of work, Vestor." "Indeed I was," he replied smugly. "I had feared I would never have the opportunity to use my talents." "There will be a cornucopia of opportunity for you, before this is all over. May I remind you that this is just a first step. The Dark Queen did us more than one favor, first by ridding us of a Householder grown fat, lazy and ridiculed, then by the widespread bloodshed and chaos that can't help but undermine that arrogant young pup's reign. But we must be disciplined and have patience. An ill-considered act, a moment of carelessness, a word or gesture to the wrong person, and we'll be kneeling before the headsman's ax. It may take two or three season-cycles to realize our goals. But the rewards will be worth it. Ruloth, what is your next step?" "We will continue to supplement the brigandage on the roads, leaving all but the most important caravans and travelers to the riff-raff and common criminals. When there is a particularly rich trading caravan or noble's party, we will strike with a ruthlessness that will ensure the event causes fear and unrest among the King's subjects. And as always, we will be alert for any gossip or careless talk that could open up more opportunities." "And I will work within the Council and among the other Houses, doing what I can to keep things stirred up," added the older noble. "Though the gods know that most of the Houses are quite capable of doing that on their own. We must keep an eye on Hegan of Dordinal, however. He grows too big for his britches, that one. His best use to us is in distracting the attention of the King and Captains Jourdain and Aldara. With his mouth, if any House involvement is suspected in the unrest, it will be Dordinal that invites speculation and suspicion." "And Forst - well, we will just wait for Forst to destroy themselves!" Vestor laughed, and was joined by the others. "Very well. We will meet again in a week. We should know more about Mandor's actions by then. Remember - not a word of this to anyone, not even here in our own House. There is too much to be gained - and lost." * * * * Ghalbar kicked his heels into his mount's flanks, yet again wishing his journey could be shorter. His horse was still young and did not have the endurance that a full adult would have. The fact that he had disappeared would tell Darliss that the faction of the family headed by Margul would soon know of her treachery. Although she was not smart enough to stop him, the Dordinal vermin with whom she had allied herself would send a party out to kill him if they could. Therefore, it was essential that he get himself -- and the news he carried -- to Forst's traditional seat before they could catch up with him. He had ridden hard all of the way from the Castle to his family's ancestral home, and now man and horse teetered on the edge of exhaustion. Fortunately, they were drawing closer to the great star- shaped fortress, whose towers could be seen on the horizon. Four days after hearing about the agreement that would seal Darliss' proposed marriage and transfer of land, the anger the announcement had brought still burned. But Margul had a reputation for coolheadedness. Given the explosive nature of the news, as well as the rancorous relationship between the leader of the home-based faction and his Fairwoods-based aunt, Ghalbar hoped that this reputation would hold. As he drew closer to the shores of the lake surrounding his family's home, he began searching for the small stables that he had last seen as a young boy. He had left his home with his grandfather Ian, when the old man had taken a powerful contingent from Forst's lands to Fairwoods, to better assert his House's claim as one of the great Houses of the Realm, and had not been home since. For all he knew, the stables might well have been moved in the intervening years. Moments later, however, he caught sight of the structure, and gently directed his exhausted steed toward the building that lay low on the near shore of the lake that surrounded his family's home. His mount gave a final burst of speed, knowing instinctively that the stable ahead represented the end of its long and painful journey. Long, painful - and desperately important. If Margul was not the skilled leader that he was supposed to be, there was little question that Forst would fall to the ravening pack of Dordinal wolves, with Hegan at its head. However, if Margul was as competent as he was supposed to be, he just might be the only person in the Realm who could deflect the terrible disaster that seemed to await all who were loyal to Forst and its allies. Ghalbar knew there could be no question that Hegan was unusually cunning -- even in a family known for its infighting and willingness to stab its own members in the back. He had made Darliss' stupidity, which had led to scandals both great and small at Fairwoods, his best ally in his effort to gain control of his own House, and destroy his family's ancient enemy in the process. She had willingly gone along with his ploy, and her treachery, whether intended or simply accidental, would lead to the virtual theft of a large chunk of Forst's oldest and most treasured lands. It saddened Ghalbar greatly that he had not known of the plot in time to warn his family's home-based contingent. It would have saved them much embarassment, or worse, in the future. As his mount slid to a stop in front of the newly expanded stables, he sighed, partly in relief at reaching home, and partly in anticipation of the difficulties that lay ahead. He was inordinately pleased to see that the young attendant was already moving to receive both himself and his horse. In truth, he was too tired to look for the stableboy wanting only to find Margul, report his news, and then collapse into a warm bed. The youngster's eyes were nearly round with shock at his superior's obviously weary and bedraggled state, widening further at the brusque manner to which he was now exposed. "I need to get across the lake immediately," Ghalbar said, cutting short the customary exchanges that etiquette demanded, even here in the stables.The boy began wiping down the animal, whose sweat ran in great frothing waves down its flanks. "I'm sorry, milord. My lord Margul ordered the boats held in shore as the ice is becoming too dangerous to pass," he said. "The gods be damned!" Ghalbar cried, wondering if the celestial beings were, indeed, plotting against him and his family. "I must get across the lake," he said, the desperation that he felt leaking into his voice. "I'm sorry, Milord," the boy repeated, "but there's no way that it'll be happenin' a'fore the lake freezes, and that could be days yet." "Do you know of anyone on the shore whom I could get to take me across?" Ghalbar asked. He knew that many of the peasants who lived near the shore had small fishing boats that could serve his purpose. After a few moments' thought, the stable boy's face broke into a wide grin, and the words that he needed so desperately to hear caressed Ghalbar's wind-burned ears. "Well, sir, if it's really that important that you get to see Lord Margul.... I s'ppose that he's the man you're here to see?" At Ghalbar's quick nod, the boy continued, "I have a small boat that I could take you over in, so long as you tell 'im that I did it at your order." Although he was acquainted with Margul only by reputation, Ghalbar knew that he was said to be highly utilitarian, and willing to make exceptions to his own rules when the necessity for them became clear. Given the current situation, he had no doubt that the leader would not only make an exception, but would probably reward the boy for his initiative. "I will tell him so, and if he does not reward you handsomely, I shall," Ghalbar told the boy. The boy's smile grew at the approval from one who was as important as his elder seemed to be. "I can be ready in a few minutes, milord. Do you know where the piers are?" "It's been a while, but I think I can get there." "All right then," the boy said, turning to finish his work. "I'll be ready for you as soon as I find Ardok to care for the horses." "Very well. But hurry," he urged. Once again, his mind turned towards his mission. * * * After reading the documents Ghalbar had delivered, Margul turned to his cousin, his expression tight with anger. "You are certain this is true?" "Positive, Lord Margul. I heard of the matter myself, and would have put a stop to it if I could. However, things had progressed too far by that point," he said morosely. "I am sure that the plan was hatched by the Dordinal nobles who are doubtless trying to build the position of their champion, Hegan. Indeed, all the Houses seem to be embroiled in their own wars of succession, and other plots run rife throughout the Realm." "I see," Margul said softly. "This tallies with other news I have heard. I have had some difficulty in maintaining contact with our contingent in the castle and so your report on Darliss' stupidity and treachery is helpful. It is unfortunate that she either doesn't recognize or care about the likely consequences of her actions. Now, I must talk with Charla and see what she thinks of the matter." Startled, Ghalbar blurted out nervously, "Charla? She's here?" He clamped his jaw down hard. Too late he had remembered that this woman who had inspired so much fear and scandal within the family had shared a special relationship with the boy who would grow into the powerful noble before him. Had he come all this way only to lose Margul's favor now? He hastened to make amends. "I- I'm sorry... I meant no insult. I know that you were close to her, but most of us younger ones feared her," he said, hoping his explanation would pass muster. "It is of no matter," Margul said quietly. Indeed, he was reassured by Ghalbar's ignorance of Charla's whereabouts. It was precisely to keep such news from leaking back to Fairwoods that he had ordered the boats taken in several days before it had truly been necessary. Fortunately, there was no risk of such news reaching the castle via Ghalbar. The young man wouldn't be able to get back to Fairwoods Keep for some time, a result of the rapidly worsening weather. Not to mention his likely status as a hunted man. Either or both would more than suffice to make him unable to leave the family seat for quite some time to come. No, Charla's presence at the Forst manorhouse would remain a secret to the outside world. Always mindful of the vagaries of the politics of the Houses, Margul analyzed his cousin's errand and the motives behind it, for there were always motives - some hidden, some out in the open for all to see. Ghalbar seemed straightforward and honest, having no agenda save that of bringing this unfortunate news to his family. For the moment, this would have to be enough, though if Charla could sit down with him and learn more of his motivations in this drama, Margul knew that he would feel better still. For the moment, he knew that he would simply have to trust that he could control the situation. He hoped that further good could be done by offering his cousin the chance to become involved in the plans that were, even now, forming in his mind. If he had read the emotion that Ghalbar's report had carried correctly, the younger man would agree to help out in a variety of ways. Most importantly, he would be able to give Margul and his advisors a better sense of what was going on at the castle. Breaking the long silence, the leader of the home-based faction spoke his mind. "I may need to confer with you later concerning things that are going on here, things that I think you might be able to assist me in accomplishing, if you choose to. Before I do, though, I think that you should get a bath, some hot food and some rest. You've obviously had a hard journey, and I will need you at your sharpest when we speak again." "I understand, and I am grateful," the younger man said. "Very well, you will take the apartment directly below this room. I shall send a servant with bathwater and food and wine shortly." "Thank you," Ghalbar said. Suddenly, his fatigue hit him like a charging fieldbeast. The younger man began dragging himself from Margul's chamber, supporting himself against the door. Before he could leave however, his body jerked and he turned back toward Margul, his face tight with worry. "What is it?" Margul asked, his respect for the young man's determination and courage rising as quickly as his concern for him. "I almost forgot to tell you of two events that occurred at the castle in the days before I left. I believe that it is possible that both are of great importance." "Yes?" Margul prompted when the younger man paused. "The first concerns Shannon, the young woman to whom King Andalor is betrothed," he replied. "It is said that she has Mage talent, and in a spat with the King five nights before my departure, she took anger at him and struck at him using her magics. I do not know what the outcome of the matter was, other than that the King seemed physically well when I passed him some days after the Magestorm that I assume was the young lady's creation." "I see," Margul said thoughtfully, not sure what the implications of this news might be. On one hand, a magically gifted queen would pose a serious threat to plans that Houses such as Dordinal might raise against the throne. Given her age and the apparent lateness of the onset of her powers, it was not likely that she would be as great as the Realm's foremost Mages, but her offspring might inherit enormous power -- both magical and temporal. However, Ghalbar had reported that the young couple had quarrelled, and it was well known that the Lady Shannon had a violent temper. Possibly this would wreck the marriage before it could begin. Although he had his own, very private reasons for hoping that the young king would be able to marry the woman that he loved, the necessity to plan for the possible outcomes of a broken betrothal was obvious. The House leader's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ghalbar's clearing throat, and he remembered the young man brought other news. "You said you had something else to report?" "Yes," the young man replied. "On the day of my departure, the Guards' captain Jourdain returned from a secret mission to House Ranfaus, carrying the Lady Livirnea on his horse. She was gravely injured, and I don't know whether she lived or died, though Healer Kyla came to her aid almost immediately. I had to use the confusion of Captain Jourdain's arrival to execute my own plans and leave the castle so I could report these things to you." "Thank you for this information." This news was even more intriguing than the information of the lady Shannon's apparent outburst. There was no obvious reason for Livirnea to come to the castle at that time of year, particularly as she was known to be very concerned about her father's health. However, it was said that Mandor was recovering well and so it was possible -- though not likely in Margul's opinion -- the Lady Livirnea had chosen to return to the castle for the winter. It seemed far likelier that she had been asked to act as mediator between the King and his fiancee, both of whom were known to be close friends to her. The attack against the royal guards' party concerned Margul greatly. Andalor's House had supported Forst in the past, and the fact that someone had been sufficiently daring to organize a band of attackers large enough to seriously challenge the wily Jourdain was worrying indeed. One of the other Houses was obviously plotting against the King, and Margul would have to devote resources to finding out which one was doing so. Such information would be valuable, and could be slipped to the King in exchange for support of Forst's cause -- or Charla's. Remembering his guest, Margul spoke without raising his eyes from the small fire burning in the grate. "Go now and get some rest, Ghalbar. I will call you when you are needed. Your service to this House, and to me in particular, shall not be forgotten." "Thank you," the other man said softly, his uneven footsteps sounding hollowly as he left the room. Some time later, the light tap that Margul had come to recognize as Charla's knock roused him from his thoughts, and he rose quickly to open the door for her. "Can I offer you some tea?" he asked as soon as she had been seated. "No, thank you." she replied, her face creased in a small frown. "Who was that young man who left here some moments ago? He was nearly dead on his feet, and I had to assist him downstairs before I came to see you." "He is Ghalbar, one of the younger ones that Ian took to the castle when he expanded our contingent there." "Oh," she said, her face clearing slightly. "I thought I recognized his... essence... from somewhere, but couldn't place him." "Not surprising," Margul said shortly. "He is one of the children to whom Darliss and the others told stories about you. Though you may not have recognized him, he certainly knew your name when I mentioned it." "I see," she replied, the words barely more than a whisper. "I wish the stupid bitch had kept her mouth shut. It would definitely have made my life easier -- both here and at Fairwoods." "Well, it would seem that she has proven her stupidity yet again." "In what way?" demanded Charla, her attention ripped back from her memories, and now fully fixed on the man in front of her. Margul updated his cousin on the news that had come via Ghalbar, and was not surprised by her strong response to her half-cousin's actions. "Of all the stupid, half-witted, brainless things she could have done!" Charla cried. She barely remembered to shield before the sky, which had begun to cloud over in response to her anger, could unleash the torrent of ice crystals characteristic of a Magestorm in the winter. "When we were young, I always knew she was just smart enough to get everyone else into trouble. And now she has proven it by going and trying to marry a man who would just as happily see this House torn assunder and cast to the carion-birds on the Uriin Plains!" she thundered, rising and moving angrily about the room. "I know all of this well," Margul said, more than willing to allow her the time to work off her anger. Her words came to him as she stood looking out of a small window across the room, her arms flailing with the force of her emotions. "It seems that it is not only her mouth, but other parts of her body as well that get us into trouble," she ranted. "What is worse, we will have to figure out how to keep her mouth and her libidinous nature from concurring to an agreement to marry that greedy swinebeast. Our House will end up being ruled by Dordinal, just as she hopes that her desires will be mastered by Hegan's presence in her bed." Margul noted how closely attuned their thoughts were on the matter. But he chose to slow his fiery-tempered cousin's rush to judgment, reminding her why she had come home and why she had so wished he had been available to her in the one way that had been forbidden them when they were younger. "What we must do now is plan. Plan for the time when we can deal with her treachery and the acquisitiveness of her new, and I'm sure, very temporary, ally. We also musmust also think carefully on how we can use the news concerning Lady Livirnea and the royal couple to our benefit. Only by finding our best option will we be able to make the most of the possibilities that this situation offers us." "True," Charla admitted softly, her mind obviously still focused on what she saw as the greatest problem. Margul knew that, given time, she would realize that all of these things were, or could be, linked together, allowing Forst to gain much from the strife that seemed to be spreading throughout the Realm. For now, however, he was willing to let her usual hot-tempered reaction pass, and give her the chance to center her frustration on the one person who, he knew well, must be the fulcrum on whom their plans must center in the future. After all, Darliss had been the cause of much of the hatred and fear that Charla had faced as a child, and it was her right to think in terms of vengeance against the older woman, now that she had the chance to get it. Whatever form it might take, her revenge would be creative, terrible and yet utterly legal in all senses. Almost as much as he anticipated the ruin of Dordinal, Margul truly looked forward to seeing the shape that vengeance would take. End of Chapter Nine THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter-Spring 2001 Disclaimers and Acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Ten "All right, Shannon, that will do." The girl sighed with relief. "How was I that time?" "Well... better. Definitely better," Livirnea said kindly. She reclined on a sofa, a warm woolen blanket covering her. It had been three weeks since her injuries and she was by no means fully recovered, as the Healer's trips to her chambers several times a day attested. But a week before she had demanded that she be allowed to start Shannon's lessons, only too aware of the passage of time. Kyla had reluctantly agreed, providing that she spent no more than three candlemarks a day in the effort, and that her healing treatments continue on schedule. Pale even when healthy, Livirnea's skin now seemed almost transparent, the blue of her veins and the dark smudges under her eyes standing out in stark contrast. Her brother Tallor was dispatched by a frantic Mandor when Andalor's runner arrived at their manor with news of the attack. He had been shocked by her appearance. Only Kyla's reassurance that Livirnea's progress was slow but steady had prevented him from taking his sister back to the manor. But he had listened with an open mind when Andalor told him of the details of the attack, and all that had been done to save his sister's life. A draft of the meeting had been sent to Mandor who, quite generously, absolved Jourdain and Andalor of any responsibility for his beloved daughter's injuries. The relationship between the Crown and Ranfaus had passed its first major test, and those who might have hoped to gain by its unraveling were keenly disappointed. Tallor brought other news as well. Lady Norilka had died suddenly, to the sorrow of no one. Already in high dudgeon about Livirnea's mission for the King, she was prevented from venting her spleen on her recovering husband by his Healers, remaining frustrated and angry. A combination of what she perceived as unforgivable errors on the part of her beleaguered servants was all it took. In the middle of a furious temper tantrum in the kitchens at the manor, she suddenly dropped like a stone. At first Livirnea felt guilty - not at accepting the King's invitation, but rather at the thought that her severe injuries may have played a part in her mother's mood prior to her fatal attack. Dryly, Tallor assured her this was, unfortunately, not so. Norilka had remained as self-centered as always, right up until the end. By custom, the manor house was in mourning, but in truth, the sense of relief in Norilka's passing made the mood less tense, and Mandor's recovery seemed to progress even faster. And so Livirnea remained at Fairwoods. In truth, the lessons with Shannon were good for both girls. The Queen-to-be was clearly in need of assistance, and Livirnea gained the sense of purpose she had always sought from the work. "Belabas the Third was married to Shephala, not Hepha. And his father was Harath the Second, not 'that old guy who looked like a goat'." She giggled. "Actually, I guess he *was* an old guy who looked like a goat, but that is an answer that Ballorca would never accept." Clad as she preferred in her warrior garb of linen shirt and breeches, Shannon threw herself to the floor beside Livirnea's couch. She hugged her knees, looking mournful. "It's hopeless! I studied for candlemarks and candlemarks, and I still can't keep them all straight. Maybe Ballorca won't ask any questions about this kind of stuff," she finished hopefully. "Well, no one knows exactly what comprises the Ritual of Readiness. It is a closely guarded secret," Livirnea admitted. "The only people who would know are Ballorca and the High Priestess -- and they are certainly not going to tell -- and former queens. And since they're all dead.... But, I think it is almost certain that there will be some questions about Realm history, such as reciting the Line of Kings, or the last ten generations of Dordinal Householders. You have to be ready." Shannon looked thoughtful. "You know, I heard a story once about Sir Winston Churchill - he was a famous guy in my world," she explained to a mystified Livirnea. "He was supposed to study the geography of the entire world to past a test. Well, my world is huge, you couldn't walk across it in a season-cycle. I mean, I'm talking *big*. Well, Churchill was not a great student, and he knew he could never do it. So he just plunked his finger down on a map, and it landed on New Zealand. So he studied New Zealand, and didn't bother with the rest of the world. And when he took the test, guess what?" Fascinated, Livirnea shook her head. "All the questions were about New Zealand, and he passed the test," Shannon said triumphantly. "Maybe that could happen to me." "I would say that your Sir Winston Churchill was extraordinarily fortunate," the noblewoman replied dryly. "I think it would be unwise to rely upon that kind of fortune." There was a knock at the door, and Lita entered, bearing a tray. "Time for midday, my ladies. And Lady Livernia, you are to eat, not just nibble. Orders from Healer Kyla." On a low table nearby, she spread out the food - hot crusty rolls, cheese, soup, fruit, and tiny rich cakes - and stepped to the hearth to begin tea preparations. "What do you want, Livirnea? Never mind - you'll just play with a piece of fruit or something." Shannon placed a roll, a small wedge of cheese and a bowl brimming with woodfowl soup on a wooden platter and handed it to the recuperating noblewoman. "And I want to see a clean plate when you're done!" she added with mock severity. Livirnea took the platter with a sigh. "I never eat this much. I'm going to get a big as a fieldbeast." Shannon looked up from her own hearty lunch. "Not much chance of that. You're way underweight as it is." "It's sweet of you to care about me, Shannon." The would-be Queen smiled warmly, then reverted to the brash persona she was more comfortable displaying. "Of course I care. Without you, I'd have a snowball's chance in hell of passing this 'Ritual of Readiness'." She spent the remainder of the repast explaining the concepts of 'snowball' and 'hell' to the always intellectually curious Livirnea. Lita cleared away the lunch things, noting with satisfaction that both girls had eaten well. Kyla entered as the elven servant left. "Time for a healing treatment, Lady Livirnea." "Really, Kyla, I feel well. Can we not miss this one?" "Very well, prove it. If you can get off the couch and walk over to me without getting dizzy, I'll consider it." The healer crossed her arms, waiting. Livirnea swung her legs over the side of the couch, and sat up. Carefully, she stood, taking deep breaths. But she got no further than ten paces before she was panting and swaying on her feet. Shannon rushed to her side and helped her back to the sofa. Kyla joined them. "You are getting better, my lady," she assured. "But these things take time. You were perilously close to taking the Great Journey. If you're patient, in less than a moon-cycle you will be completely well." "But we were working- " "It's okay, Liv," Shannon said. "I have Mage training with Reinald and my father now, anyway." "Come back when Kyla's finished and I have rested. I have more plans for you," she called after her friend's retreating form. "How to serve tea like a Queen. And you must wear a dress!" Shannon groaned as she closed the door behind her. * * * * Margul stood silently surveying the men and women of House Forst who sat before him in the dining chamber. The great vaulted ceiling and thick columns made an impressive backdrop for the great convocation that now held sway on its heavy stone floor. There were nearly a hundred people present, all of whom he considered trustworthy, and whose determination to serve him and the family had been proven to his satisfaction. There were a couple that Charla didn't trust, and he was more than happy to allow her to watch them. Her intuition, supported by her magical gifts, had been one of the many things about her that had terrified the children of the House so many years before. If she proved correct in her suspicions, he would cast the guilty parties out of the house, and challenge them to survive the two-day trip across the deeply frozen lake, with neither supplies nor proper clothing. If, as he was sure, her suspicions were misplaced, nothing would be said of the matter. However, now was not the time for worrying of such things.The news that Ghalbar brought nearly a moon-cycle before had spread through the House like wildfire. He knew that it was his time to act and gain final control over the home-based contingent of his family. Once done, he would move against his foolish relative, putting her idiocy and the plans of the current claimant to the title of Dordinal Householder to an ignominious and, he fully expected, bloody end. His eyes swept the crowded chamber, settling on Charla's blonde head. Her deep blue eyes locked with his. If she were nervous at being with so many of those who had ostracized her in the past, it did not show. Rather, that anxiety had been replaced with an emotion he could not name and did not dare to think about at the moment. He smiled at her, and then straightened, ready to speak his mind concerning what had passed and what was yet to come. "Ladies and lords of the House of Forst," he began, his voice amplified by the room's tremendous natural acoustics. "All of you know of our cousin Darliss' long-standing short-sightedness. Now she has gone too far; she has forayed into the land of treachery. And that is not too strong a word for Darliss' plans. Even now, she plots to marry a rascal of the House of Dordinal, whose sole intention is the downfall of our family and the theft of our land. We all know of Dordinal's heinous acts against House Forst in the past. They are a heavy weight in our hearts that we carry with us throughout our lives. We all know that Dordinal thirsts to put an end to House Forst, to eliminate Forst as surely and as viciously as they have eliminated so many other Houses. Either Darliss is more ignorant than I have always thought or she has taken leave of her senses. Or," he thundered darkly, "Lady Darliss, in seeking her own goals, has traitorously put the welfare of House Forst behind her. "Well, I, for one, will not stand idly by while members of my own family move to stab us all in the back. I will not watch as we are cut down with a blade that is rusty and heavily poisoned with Dordinal's age-old hatred of House Forst." The room exploded into cheers, as many of the younger nobles jumped to their feet, waving their own well-oiled swords in the air. Margul waited for the pandemonium to quiet before continuing with his speech. "I, for one, will not stand idly by while peace-loving beings of all types are handed over to a pack of thieves whose sole interest is, and has always been, their own aggrandizement at the expense of all around them. I therefore propose that we take action to stop the dastardly plot that our cousin and her puppetmaster have hatched. A plot that will serve none in this room and which will, ultimately, only serve the needs and desires of the ravening pack of soul-eaters in the seat of Dordinal. In doing this, we will have done what is necessary to protect our future, as well as the lands held by the village of Cresscreek. Even now as we gather here, Darliss plots to hand over Cresscreek to Dordinal in her marriage bed." The room erupted with boos and jeers at the expense of the lady who, even had she been present, would have been unable to defend herself from Margul's words. "We haven't the force here to stop her in her tracks," Margul said once the room had quieted again, "but we all have friends and connections who can help us, and whom we must contact in our time of need. I therefore propose that we all collect the names of warriors whom we trust and who will serve our banner, in preparation for a full war council as soon as the roads are cleared, and winter has loosed her grip on our lands. When the lists have been completed, I shall take ten brave souls into the winter wilderness and seek out these honorable men and women. Once our forces are together, we will strike against our enemies, smiting them to the ground and leaving nothing but ashes in our wake!" The cheering that rang through the hall was even more deafening than before. Groups of excited men and women began forming, each working to think of respectable warriors on whom the House could call and who would serve its banner. * * * * So far, the dinner party was a resounding success. Lady Darliss leaned back in her throne-like chair, one bony hand clutching a goblet of wine, the other resting proprietarily on the arm of Lord Hegan. Servants scurried to clear one course only to bring in the next, and the next, and Lord Hegan and his contingent of loyal Dordinal nobles had more than done justice to the feast. Dordinal may have power, she thought smugly to herself, but Forst is second to none in the social graces. The banquet had two purposes - to show the rough Dordinal crowd the right way to host a party, and to showcase herself as the absolute leader of House Forst. That her overworked servants cursed her body and soul to the Dark Creatures, she cared not a whit. That members of her House such as the young fool Margul and his home-based cabal protested against her plans showed their foolishness, not hers. That the House Treasurer had railed against such extravagance as the Realm tried to rebuild itself meant nothing. Newly purchased jewels, more fitting for a Queen to wear on the most special of occasions, dangled from her earlobes and encircled her scrawny neck and wrists. Her gown was shot through with so many threads of real gold that she could scarcely stand under its weight without assistance. But it was worth it. Hegan's eyes had lit up the moment he saw her, and he had been wonderfully attentive all night. "Lady Darliss, you do your House proud," he murmured next to her ear. "And shortly, you will do the same for mine." She bit back an appreciative titter. First things first, and this was the opportunity she had sought all night. "True, but when, my Lord Hegan? When?" Ah! The opportunity he had sought all night! He patted her hand. "These bothersome marriage contract negotiations, my dear. They take so long to work out all the details. What do the negotiators and scribes know of true love?" He picked up her hand and kissed it. "If we could only dispense with all the tedious details. But...." The claimant to Householder of Dordinal shrugged. "From what my people tell me, it is the Forst negotiator who is holding things up, demanding unreasonable concessions and guarantees of this and that. I had thought he was doing so on your orders...." He turned a guileless face to hers. Darliss looked stricken. All her plans, her future happiness, were not going to be undone by some clerk carried away by his own self- importance. "Under my orders? Certainly not! I am as anxious as you are to set a wedding date. Never fear, my love. I shall speak firmly to Lavol in the morning. There will be no more delays, I promise you." "Ah, my delicate flower! Yet beneath, you have a wit sharper than the finest blade, and the leadership of a Queen. I knew you would be able to clear these endless obstacles to our betrothal! Will you dance with me, my jewel? I want the whole Realm to see you in my arms." Cheeks flushing pink with pleasure, Darliss took Hegan's hand and struggled to her feet under the enormous weight of her gown. She motioned to the musicians, who struck up a lilting ballad. Skillfully, Hegan guided her around the dance floor, grimacing only slightly whenever she trod on his boots. What a beautiful, enviable couple we are, she mused happily. * * * * "If the she-beast had stepped on my feet one more time, I would have grabbed her scrawny neck and wrung the life out of her!" Hegan strode into his study, unbuckled his sword and tossed himself into an armchair. "But you accomplished your goal, Lord Hegan. Surely that is balm enough for your injured feet." Hegan smiled. "True enough, Krellian." He took the cup of wine proffered by his lieutenant and drank deeply from it. "See to it Shelgar knows that his counterpart, Lavol, will be instructed to accede to our demands in tomorrow's negotiations. It's time to raise the stakes. Did you see the jewels draped on the bitch tonight? Forst evidently has much more wealth than we surmised...." He tapped absently on the rim of the cup as he pondered. "Shelgar is to ensure that Forst property comes to Dordinal, should my dear bride meet with an untimely end. It never hurts to think ahead," he said reasonably, smiling at Krellian. "Help yourself to some wine!" When his lieutenant had poured the dark red liquid, Hegan stood next to him. Turning towards the magnificently carved coat of arms over the hearth, he held out his cup and cried "To Dordinal! And to our bright future!" "To Dordinal!" End of Chapter Ten THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (matthew.weed@yale.edu, ecksphile@earthlink.net) Winter- Spring 2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Eleven Charla stood tall and imposing on the outer walls of the village. The winter's chill was growing stronger every day, and she took much pleasure from it. Though she normally despised the cold weather, this year's winter promised to be a fearsome one, carrying with it the kind of weather that would detain those whose pursuit she feared most in Fairwoods Keep. They could do nothing to prevent her from helping her cousin to begin his campaign against Dordinal from there. A campaign whose success would give Margul - and the family as well - greater power in the Realm; power that would translate into increased protection for her. And that protection would allow her to build the relationship that she had wanted with him when they were young. However, before any such thoughts could dominate her attention, she knew she would have to help her family win its upcoming battles against Dordinal. Though there was still great wealth within the walls of this grand fortress, it was not what it had been in generations past. The number of warriors and mercenaries that Margul could hope to field would be far fewer than his enemies could retain. They would need magical help, and she would have to provide it in ways that would do what was needed, while preventing her from sliding into the use of the Black Arts that she knew well and abhorred with equal passion. There were spells of all sorts that might help her, many of which she had collected in the years after she had been banished from Fairwoods. That exile had taken her to places that she was quite sure Reinald had never seen, and probably never heard of. Recently, she found some ancient books hidden in a magically-sealed strong box -- hidden by the very Mage who had bespelled the walls on which she now tread. This discovery, along with her diverse education and her own creativity would give her the arsenal of spells necessary to add greatly to the effectiveness of those who wielded more conventional weapons for her House. This thought in mind, she turned away from the icy world outside, returning to the mix of magic, politics and strategy she loved as a child, and was rediscovering with the passion of a mature adult. * * * * Dorbo answered the knock at the door of of the Royal Suite, bowing low when he saw who asked admittance. "Please have a seat by the fire, Your Worship. 'Tis a chill day today. I will ask the King if he can see you." He withdrew, returning a moment later to make tea. By the time the kettle sizzled and spat on the hearth, Andalor joined them. The High Priestess rose, but he gestured for her to sit. Once they had steaming mugs in hand, Andalor observed noncommittally, "You are always welcome here, of course, High Priestess, yet I rarely have the pleasure of your company." She inclined her head. "Such is the nature of our work, Your Majesty. It keeps us busy -- too busy for the simple pleasure of a visit just for its own sake." The King frowned slightly. "Then I take it that this is a work visit, rather than one of pleasure?" "I always hope it will be both, Sire," the distinguished older woman said with a touch of humor. "But yes, I admit that my presence here is more in the nature of my work. As you know, it is the business of the priests and priestesses to discern the most auspicious time for the rituals of the Realm to be performed, the time that will most please the Goddess, and most favor the proceedings." Andalor nodded. He knew they had been trying to work out the best time for the wedding, just as they had decided his coronation day and the day of his betrothal ceremony to Shannon. He had expected a visit eventually, but surely it was too early-- "Our most gifted members, those who are most intuitive, who have the clearest vision of the future, have come to me. They say there is no doubt. In fact, they are in rare accord. While working to find the best day for your wedding, they saw instead a different vision. They have divined the day for Lady Shannon's Ritual of Readiness. Since that must come before the wedding in any case, I thought that you would want to know." "I see." Andalor hoped the anxiety he felt did not show. "And that day is?" "The morning after the third twin full moon of Planting Season, Your Majesty." "You mean Harvest Season." "Indeed I do not. Planting Season. The Seers' vision was quite unmistakable." "Planting Sea- But that's much earlier than we had thought!" Andalor's mind reeled. Shannon's test would be almost three moon-cycles earlier than they had planned. Time they couldn't afford to lose. "Are they certain?" "Quite certain, Sire. In fact, the chosen day is remarkably bright with promise, and any other day, both before and for a long while after, would be quite disastrous. Rarely has a vision been this unequivocal. For the Ritual of Readiness, that is the only day that portends well for Lady Shannon.... Your Majesty, I feel your distress. May I?" She extended a hand out to him. "Sorry?" Andalor, shrugging off his thoughts, looked up to see the High Priestess looking at him with a puzzled expression. "Oh! Oh, no, that will not be necessary, High Priestess. It was just a surprise. If the Seers say that is the day, then that is the day it shall be. Please give my thanks to them." Much as he craved the solace and comfort her touch would have brought, he could not take the chance that she would somehow discern the source of his unease. He rose, and the High Priestess stood as well. "Do me a favor, if you would," Andalor requested, walking her to the door. "Please allow me to divulge this news. I will see that the Minister of Protocol is informed." "But of course, Sire." "And please come back soon to visit me -- for pleasure the next time." She smiled warmly. "I will. The Goddess be with you." Andalor closed the door and leaned against it, shaking. Goddess! Shannon needed every moment of the time they thought they had. It was going to be a difficult enough task, even with that amount of time. But with three moon-cycles less! Reinald. Reinald must hear of this immediately. Now, it was only the Mages -- and the Goddess -- who could make his union with Shannon possible. * * * * "Reinald! Reinald, I must speak with you immediately. I-" Andalor's words halted abruptly as he entered the Royal Mage's chambers. Before him, Hannu and Reinald watched as Shannon, her brow furrowed in concentration, levitated a teapot over a small table by the fireplace. Suddenly, she turned towards her fiance, her expression of delight falling as the teapot crashed to the flagstones. The Mages sighed in tandem. "Shannon, you must not let anything interfere with your focus!" Hannu began, but was cut off by his daughter's exuberant squeal. "Did you see that, Andy? Did you see what I did?" She ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He held her briefly, then released her and stood back a bit. As he intended, she understood his signal to revert to more queenly decorum and quelled her enthusiasm. "I'm making wonderful progress in my Mage training, Andalor." "I know, I saw," he smiled. "Reinald, if I am interrupting...." "No, no, my boy. Lady Shannon has worked hard and deserves some respite. That will be all, Shannon. But remember this lesson -- nothing must interrupt your focus when you are applying your gifts. The consequences could be far worse than a smashed teapot." "I understand, Royal Mage. Andalor, is something wrong? The way you rushed in here...." The King shook his head, but kept a steady gaze on Reinald. "No, just a small matter of politics I must discuss with the Royal Mage. Why don't you do as he suggested and have a rest?" "All right, I'll go. But I can't rest. Livirnea has plans for me," she said with dramatically exaggerated dread. Andalor snorted in amusement. "Oh, I'm sure you'll cope somehow," he said, eyes twinkling. With mock gravity, she assured him, "I'll do my best." Casting a defiant glance at the Mages, she gave her fiance a quick, unqueenly kiss and was out the door. "I think I had better be running along, if you have matters of state to discuss," Hannu said, gathering up his books and parchment. "No! Please stay," urged Andalor. "That excuse was for Shannon's benefit. I would be pleased to have your counsel. Gentlemen, we have a problem." Something in the King's tone caught Reinald's attention, sending up alarm bells. He held up his hand for Andalor to keep silent, then said, "Pitar, please clear away the rubble and prepare tea. Then you may have the rest of the afternoon off." The stocky troll did the Royal Mage's bidding swiftly, then left. "Now, Andalor, you seem upset. What is the problem? Lady Shannon is doing well in Mage training, despite the little accident you witnessed. And Lady Livirnea tells me that she is making progress in her other studies - applying herself, studying hard, and keeping her temper in check. All appears to be going well, so I am at a loss to understand your anxiety." Andalor took a gulp of daytime tea, welcoming the badly needed restorative kick it gave him. Gazing into the mug, he said, "That would all be fine, if I had not just had a visit from the High Priestess. The Seers have set the date for the Ritual of Readiness - the morning following the third full twin moon of Planting Season." He glanced up, seeing the awful realization dawn on both Mages. "Great Goddess! Even a Realm-born queen-to-be would have difficulty being prepared by that date!" Hannu exclaimed. "Shannon will never be ready by then!" Dolefully, the King nodded. "The Priestess said there is no doubt. That particular day is very promising for Shannon, and all others after bode badly." "While I realize we should trust in the Goddess's wisdom, in this case it would take a tremendous leap of faith," agreed Reinald dryly. "You were quite correct in keeping this from Shannon. Such news could well undo much of the progress she has made. One moment...." He went to the door and spoke a few words to a passing servant. Moments later, Tarnor joined them and, mug in hand, settled into an armchair. "I am glad you are in Fairwoods right now, Tarnor," the Royal Mage began. Quickly, he told him of what had transpired. "All the deities of the Realm would have to work in concert to bring this one off," the gargoyle Mage observed with his customary good humor. "It is no coincidence that there are three Mages in the room, is it, Your Majesty?" Andalor shrugged disconsolately. "I don't pretend to know what you can do. All I know is that Shannon and I need your help. We've spoken of what could happen if Shannon fails the Ritual of Readiness. At the very least I could be forced to break the betrothal and choose another bride." He paused to gaze at his companions, his demeanor and tone deadly serious. "I have done a lot of thinking about this, and have decided that I will not break my betrothal with Shannon, regardless of the outcome of the Ritual. If she fails, I will abdicate." "Surely, Your Majesty, there is no need- " "Andalor, you can't be serious! You- " "Damn and blast, Your Majesty! There- " Andalor's small, humorless smile was tight. "Oh, but I assure you I shall. I love Shannon, and nothing is going to keep me from marrying her. There is even precedent -- Volar the Second abdicated when Doloria failed the Ritual." Reinald snorted. "But the situation was entirely different. Volar was not exactly the brightest light in the Realm, and Doloria was dimmer than a fieldbeast. From what we know of their progeny, Volar did the Realm a favor by abdicating. Besides, he had twelve brothers, all smarter, healthier and more capable than he, ensuring the dynasty. What of the other six dozen or so Kings in our history whose betrotheds failed the Ritual? None of them abdicated." "And all of those betrothals were purely political. Those Kings were probably thrilled when their brides failed and the betrothals were broken. In fact-- " "Andalor, you will not abdicate because it will not be necessary for you to do so," Reinald said with finality. "Shannon will be ready." "But how?" "You leave that to us." "But Reinald, you can't do anything unethical. Somehow Ballorca would find out. It could mean your head," the King reminded him. "I am well aware of that, my boy. That's why I asked Tarnor to be here. He is probably the best Mage ethicist in the Realm. Don't worry. We will come up with something. Now leave us. You must inform Minister of Protocol Ballorca of the date of the Ritual, but I would advise that you also swear him to secrecy about it. It is within your power to do so. Shannon cannot learn of the nearness of the Ritual until we can offer her some hope that her task is not impossible. And that will be hardest on you, Andalor. You must school yourself to hide your anxiety from her. It is critical." "I know." The King rose. "Fortunately, we have both been so busy that we rarely see each other privately -- or as privately as the chaperones allow," he added dryly. "Very well. But please keep me apprised of your progress." Feeling a bit more hopeful than when he had arrived, the King left to meet with Ballorca. "Well!" Tarnor said, rubbing his ear. "The first thought that occurs to me is to contact Mage Mulder." Hannu nodded. "I agree. His approach to magic is completely unconventional. In this case, that might be the best way to come up with something." "Then, gentlemen, if you would join me at the table...." The Royal Mage stood and made his way to the large round table in the center of the chamber. They pushed three chairs together and Reinald uncovered the Oracle Cloud. He murmured the Old Realm words of the spell as the colors in the orb swirled. At length they began to coalesce into a familiar figure. "Shit! Reinald, I wish to hell you could do something about this crystal! Much as I love hearing from you, one of these days I may end up as a case of spontaneous human combustion!" "I'm sorry, Mulder," Reinald said blandly. "Is this a convenient time?" "I'm not sure there *is* a convenient time for third degree burns," Mulder groused, rubbing his chest. "Yes, now is fine. It's three in the morning and we're in a hotel room, on a case in Georgia. In fact, we're not far from the swamp where you and Tarnor landed when you came to this world, Reinald." "Ugh! Don't remind me!" Tarnor shuddered. Mulder smiled, then he turned to his left in response to a muffled question. "It's okay, Scully, go back to sleep. It's just Reinald. Everything's all right, isn't it, Reinald?" "Oh, yes. This is more in the nature of a professional conference. Warrior Healer Scully may go back to sleep with an easy mind." "Hear that, Scully? Hold on, Reinald, I'm going to go into the bathroom so we don't disturb Scully. She needs her beauty sleep.... Ouch!" The orb dipped and swirled, and moments later Mulder's image formed again. He was rubbing his shoulder. "Okay guys, what's up?" "The date for Shannon's Ritual of Readiness have been advanced considerably. Without our intercession, I fear her chances of successful completion are very slim indeed." "Uh-oh. How's Shannon taking the news?" Hannu smiled. "We have elected not to inform her. Since your conversation with her, my daughter's attitude has improved remarkably and she's making progress." Mulder nodded. "Good thinking. She'd probably throw the Magestorm of all time and give up completely. I assume we're going to try to help?" Tarnor nodded, looking more solemn than usual. "If we can do so within the constraints of our ethical code. Please understand, no one wants Shannon to pass the Ritual more than I do," he said earnestly. "No one wants to see Andalor marry the woman he loves more than I. Especially after his announcement tonight. But the ethics of Magedom, the constraints by which we're bound -- I have taken a solemn vow to abide by them, as we all have, and abide by them we will. Regardless of how just the cause, I cannot be party to anything that would be unethical." "Nor would we want to be, Tarnor," Mulder assured him. "I'm certain we can come up with something that will leave all of us with clear consciences. Now, what's this about an announcement?" Reinald sighed. "Andalor has announced that if Shannon fails the Ritual of Readiness, he will abdicate rather than break the betrothal." "Then it looks like we'd better get to work and find something." "Unfortunately, that is not as simple as it sounds," the Royal Mage said, shaking his head. "The spell we want probably doesn't exist. That means we have to conjure up something that is completely new, effective, and allowed by our rather strict ethical code. Conjuring a new spell alone, even for the simplest action, is difficult enough. It can take season-cycles." "Which we don't have," Mulder finished thoughtfully. "Well, do we have to reinvent the wheel? Is there a spell we can modify in some way to have the desired effect?" Hannu, because of the peculiar circumstances of his very long life, had the best knowledge of extent spells. "That will take some research. Offhand, I don't know of any, but that doesn't mean one may not exist in some dusty old tome or decaying scroll. But there is also the problem that changing a spell in any way can have undesired effects -- sometimes disastrous ones. We may be better off to 'reinvent the wheel'." Tarnor was uncharacteristically serious. "Not to throw a bucket of cold water on the creative process, but it might be best to first determine what kind of a spell we can ethically use or create. I think we can all agree it would be a major breech of ethics to divine a spell that will simply place the knowledge she needs into Shannon's mind -- even if such a spell were possible." The assembled Mages nodded, Mulder joining in somewhat reluctantly. "So let me understand this. Anything like Reinald's language spell would be off-limits," he said. The Royal Mage nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid so. Shannon will have to learn Old Realm, at least enough to get her through the Rituals in which she would have to participate as Queen. As we can assume that that knowledge may be part of the test, then we would be wrong to use the language spell. No, what we must do is to conjure a spell which will facilitate her learning, without actually giving her the knowledge that she will be tested on. Would that pass muster, Tarnor?" The little gargoyle looked pensive, then flapped his hands in frustration. "I don't know. It seems reasonable enough, but somehow I am not completely comfortable with that idea." Mulder's brow knit in worry. Much as he admired Tarnor's integrity, much as he prized the ethics of his Realm calling, he still felt a natural drive to protect Shannon, and to help her pass the toughest test of her life. Probably better than anyone in the Realm, he appreciated that Andalor's threat to abdicate was a real one. He had met the boy when he was at his most rebellious, as a runaway to an unfamiliar world. Andalor had tasted freedom, and it had been no easy decision for him to go back to the Realm and again assume the mantle of responsibility he had worn since childhood. Mulder knew it was a very thin thread which bound the young man to the throne. If he and Shannon could not marry, Mulder didn't doubt for a moment that Andalor would carry out his threat to give up his kingdom. And he felt his fellow Mages really could not conceive of that happening. "We're just trying to level the playing field, Tarnor," Mulder reminded him gently. "We're not trying to make Shannon a genius, nor are we trying to make her the best qualified candidate in the history of the Realm. All we're trying to do is make up for the fact that Shannon wasn't born in the Realm, and doesn't have that sixteen or so years of advantage that any other candidate would have." Tarnor's ears waggled while he considered this. Detecting a softening of the gargoyle's position, Mulder pressed his case home. "To add to that disadvantage, through no fault of her own, Shannon now has even less time to accomplish the impossible. It's like the deck has been stacked against her. All I want is to make things fair." The gargoyle's expression brightened. "Well, looking at it from that standpoint... I suppose I would agree." "So!" declared Hannu. "At least we have a starting point now. Tarnor, will you help me research the spell books and scrolls to see if we might get some ideas?" The gargoyle nodded enthusiastically. "And Mage Mulder - what can you do in your world?" the Royal Mage asked. "Well, I do have some of my spell books at home. I wouldn't be able to test anything I came up with here, of course. I do have an idea.... Perhaps I could work out the theoretical aspects of it, and then turn it over to you, Reinald, for the practical aspects and to test and refine it." "An idea? What is it?" Mulder shook his head, smiling. "Let me work on it. Give me, say, a week in your time, and then contact me again. We'll get Shannon through this -- somehow." "Please give our love to Warrior Healer Scully," grinned Tarnor. Continuing in English, he added, "When she has finished with her 'beauty sleep'." Mulder grinned back. "The Professor's lessons are paying off, I see. I will do that, Tarnor. It hasn't been that long, but already I'm dying to get back to the Realm." He sighed. "Unfortunately, duty calls here. It was great seeing you guys. I'll talk to you in a week." Mulder's image shimmered and faded. Reinald stood up and covered the Oracle Cloud once more. "Well, we have our duties, gentlemen. Let's get to work." End of Chapter Eleven THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter 2000-2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Twelve The snow fell lightly around the small party of Forst representatives who had ridden together for three days along the ancient northward highway. This road had been the main trade route between Forst and the trolls' forested home for hundreds of season-cycles. Although the House had lost much of its power, the lands on either side of the road were still loyal to it and Margul knew that many warriors could be recruited here. Some of his men would continue north and learn what they could of Dordinal's activities from the trolls and, if possible, purchase supplies from them as well. Supplies that would be delivered to Forst's troops once they retook Cresscreek - if they could. Margul wanted to accompany his representatives on this journey but knew that he would have to satisfy himself with talking with the local lords as he could not be away from the Manor for long. Charla's presence on the journey also complicated things. Much as he cared for his cousin and valued her counsel, he didn't want to risk allowing either Dordinal or the King to know that she now stood with him. Her presence and the scale of her power would be a shock to the Dordinal troops at Cresscreek, and possibly at other sites as well. He dared not risk losing her capabilities to an inquisition order by Andalor. However, she wanted to come, and her presence made their travel on the winter-blocked roads much easier, and two days shorter than it otherwise would have been. The spells that she had cast on the riders who would travel further north would aid them through the rest of the day. As a result, they could reach the trolls' southern- most villages by nightfall. Margul turned to give Ghalbar and their companions his final instructions, a heavy burden on his mind. "All that you need do is find out what the trolls have heard and seen over their fall travels, and ensure that the supplies we need are on hand at Cresscreek. Pay them what you must in order to ensure their assistance and silence. We shall set watches for you at the landward stables. We pray your journey is safe and successful." "I understand," Ghalbar said. "If the trolls whom I have met at Fairwoods are home this winter, I will speak with them and hear their news. Without their help, things will be more difficult, but all can be accomplished easily enough." He hesitated, then put his thoughts into words. "Thank you for entrusting me with this mission, my lord. I will do my best to succeed." "I know," Margul said with a smile for the younger man. "You have worked hard to help me plan for what must come, and this mission is a reward for your diligence. Succeed here, and I will give you further responsibilities, as your connections to those outside of our lands are far better than those of anyone else save Charla. Sadly, her network will be able to help us little in our struggle with Dordinal. Hopefully it will be of greater use to me when I am called to account before the King, as I am sure will come to pass." "Accounts are written by the victors," Ghalbar replied resolutely, "and I intend to do my best to ensure that we give the first version of events. Now, however, I must be off if Charla's assistance is to be of maximum benefit." "Then go with speed and silence, and find only success on your journey," Margul said, as he swung up into his saddle. He turned his horse toward the strongly fortified manorhouse that stood atop the hill. The main north road curved around it before driving northeast toward the trolls' forests. Ghalbar kicked his heels into his mount's flanks and with a wave for Charla, struck out on his own mission. His heart was warmed by the friendship of the young nobles whose acquaintance he had renewed over the past moon-cycles. They now rode with him as he sought support in the chilly northlands, a company of honorable people in whose companionship he reveled as he thought of the long road ahead of them. He glanced back for one last look at the man whom he had come to respect more than any other over the past moon-cycles. In doing so, he happened to see his Householder and the striking woman, side by side on their horses, hands entwined in the security that few - if any - would see. Ghalbar smiled to himself. Even when war's dark clouds gathered on the horizon, love's brilliant light could shine through them and, he hoped, illuminate the lives of two people who had not yet basked in its radiance. * * * * Once more the Mages sat around the Oracle Cloud. The orb showcased the image of the one missing from the table, Mage Mulder. "I hope you have had better luck than we have," Reinald began glumly. "Hannu had the idea of extrapolating from my language spell, but we had precious little success." "That's putting it optimistically," commented Hannu. "You might more accurately say it was a resounding failure. The second we finished casting it, both Reinald and I were struck dumb, unable to utter a coherent word in any language. Thank the Goddess that Tarnor was not a part of the casting. If he hadn't come along, figured out what our problem was, and cast the rescue spell which nullified ours, we would be tongueless still!" Tarnor blushed a steely gray. "My pleasure. But Mulder, what progress have you made? And may it please the Goddess you have made some." "I'm not sure I've made any," he admitted. "Being here in my world has certain drawbacks, not the least of which is the inability to test out any of my theories. But my idea centered around my eidetic memory. If we could impart that same ability to Shannon, it might solve our practical as well as ethical problems. She would still have to read the history, language and customs books, and she'd still have to learn to behave as a Queen. But her memory of those lessons would be enhanced. What do you think, Tarnor? Would that be ethically acceptable?" The gargoyle's heavy brow knit in consideration. "Yes, I believe it would. There would be no magical implanting of knowledge into her mind that she had not studied. As you point out, she would have to do the work, or the spell would be of no advantage to her. Yes, I think that would be most acceptable," he concluded with a ferocious grin. "Well, we've cleared the first obstacle, then," Reinald declared. "Now - how do we do it?" "I've given that some thought as well," replied Mulder. "Though with the disastrous result of your attempt, Reinald, I can't say I feel too secure about this." "At the moment, any idea is better than none," Hannu observed good-naturedly. "Out with it, lad!" "Well, I thought... how about mixing portions of Gremelion's ancient Spell of Mystic Reading with Trahlahl's Spell of Binding?" The brows of the three Realm Mages shot up in astonishment. They were silent for a long time. "Well? Don't leave me hanging here, guys," Mulder said nervously. "I mean, I know I'm the new kid on the block as far as being a Mage goes, but I just thought--" Hannu waved dismissively. "No! No, I realize you are not trying to show us up." He nodded slowly. "A radical thought, Mage Mulder. I am amazed you are even cognizant of Gremelion's spell." In the Oracle Cloud, the young man's image shrugged. "It's on one of Reinald's old scrolls. I just happened to remember coming across it when we were searching for a way to defeat the Dark Queen. So... what do you think?" "I must admit, I barely remember that spell's existence," said the Royal Mage. "And I don't think I have cast the Spell of Binding, at least not in many, many season-cycles. But that is not to say that it cannot be done. Tarnor?" "Never heard of the mystical reading spell. But I have cast the Spell of Binding, and quite recently, too," he responded cheerfully. "If Hannu can guide us through Gremelion's spell, I think we're in business." Hannu smiled. "I believe it is possible, theoretically at least. Not being gifted with Mage Mulder's memory, I will have to study the fine points of the spell, but the idea is certainly worth the effort. Have you given any consideration to the necessary physical elements, Mulder?" "I figured, minimally, an old book and a pot of glue, which are the main physical elements of each spell. Beyond that, it's anyone's guess." "We can always start with some of the old standbys," suggested Tarnor. "Luminescence of fireflies, powdered raptor talons, ash from the burning of old magic scrolls, various charms. And if those don't work, we can get creative!" He seemed to enjoy the prospect. "We do have one problem, however," Hannu said. Mulder laughed. "Just one?" Shannon's father smiled, then sobered. "How do we know when we have divined a spell that will work? We can't experiment on ourselves - you know how close to disaster Reinald and I came. We can't experiment on a lower creature that doesn't have the ability to read. And we can't experiment on other beings because it would be unethical. Sometimes," he continued, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "I almost envy the Black Mages. They have the advantage of being able to experiment freely, without such constraints." Tarnor looked outraged at his companion's comments, until it was clear that he was being baited. Then he chuckled. "In truth, from a purely practical standpoint, I must agree. Well, we shall just have to work on the spell from a theoretical viewpoint, be sure that it cannot harm, whether or not it can help. Then try it on Lady Shannon." "Yeah- - let's make sure she won't end up simply sticking like glue to any book she touches," Mulder joked weakly, not quite able to disguise his unease for Shannon's safety. "Do not worry," Hannu kindly replied. "Shannon will be no worse off for the experience, I promise you." "I suggest that Hannu and I work on the words of the casting," suggested Reinald. "Tarnor, you can work on the physical elements. We will meet here each day just after the midday meal to discuss our progress." There were nods of agreement. "You've done it again, my boy," Reinald continued, smiling. "You have given us hope just when things looked their darkest." "Just keep in touch and let me know if it works." Mulder still did not look entirely happy. "We will. And give our love to Scully." At the mention of his bondmate, his features brightened. "I will. She's just visiting her mom, or she'd be here. Andalor okay?" "Doing well, although I believe he will sleep better once we have found the spell we're looking for to help Shannon." Smiling, Mulder said, "He's not the only one. Okay. Same time next week, everything permitting?" Reinald nodded. "I'll ask Gunther to work out the calculations." "Great... see you then." The image faded and the colors swirled, then were no more. * * * * Finally! Ghalbar thought as the lights of the large troll village came into sight. His party had been on the road for nearly a week and all were exhausted. They had been told that the trader Krolgar and troll general Kergidor lived here and, if the necessary arrangements could be made at all, it was these beings that could do it. They had also been told that these beings would have information concerning the families that were supposedly in hiding in the northernmost part of the Realm. The cold rain had taken much out of all of the members of his party. Much as he wished that their business could wait until the next day, Ghalbar knew that the trolls wanted their party dealt with as quickly and quietly as possible. Though Dordinal could not communicate with its spies now, they would be able to report back in the Spring. Since the announcement of Darliss' marriage to Hegan, many in the Realm did not want to be seen as being overly supportive of Dordinal's enemies. "I am certainly as tired as I have ever been," said one of his companions, a fresh-faced young noble who now sagged in his saddle. "As am I," Ghalbar agreed, his eyes sweeping the large open space where they now waited, searching for the beings they were to meet. After some moments, he saw the squat form of Krolgar, and the somewhat older but equally corpulent form of Kergidor. The pair moved toward them, the former dressed in what must be troll finery, while the latter clanked along in the best armor that the trolls could forge. Ghalbar swung out of his saddle and moved forward on stiff legs to meet the troll leaders, his back straightening in recognition of the importance of his mission as much as it did from respect for the troll leaders whom he now faced. "I am Ghalbar of House Forst," he said, bowing first to Kergidor, then Krolgar, as troll custom demanded. "Welcome," Kergidor replied. His suspicion at seeing a noble-born human traveler at this time of year was barely masked behind the diplomacy that the situation required. "I am Kergidor, chief warrior of the troll nation. This is Krolgar, one of our leading merchants," he said. "I have been told that you have important business to discuss, and would ask you and your party to join us at the inn so that we may see if our nation has anything to offer you." "My companions and I shall be honored to sit at supper with you and then to discuss our business as best serves our needs and those of your people," Ghalbar replied, holding to the customary forms that he had been taught so many years ago when his unusual intelligence and diplomatic skills had first been recognized. Kergidor nodded slightly, obviously impressed by the young human noble's diplomacy if not by his actual presence in the trolls' village. Few members of the majority of the Noble Houses cared enough about what they called the "lower species" to bother to learn their customs. He then gestured toward a large building that Ghalbar now realized must be the local inn. "Then join us in our meal, and benefit from the bounty of our lands," said the troll general. With a nod to the others, he led the way toward the warmth and shelter that the inn promised. * * Nearly a candlemark later, his feet warmed by the great fire in the inn's main room, Ghalbar sighed, and pushed his plate away, unable to consume another mouthful. The rest of his party had given up far earlier, but Ghalbar knew well that one of the ways in which trolls proved their appreciation of the hospitality that they had been shown was to make a particularly noteworthy dent in the food that they were offered. He only hoped that he wouldn't become ill before the negotiations were completed. "You have shown great sensitivity to our customs," Kergidor said from his position at the head of the table. "I am both impressed with your respect for us, and your ability to eat like a troll!" "My thanks to you, General," Ghalbar replied, "however, it is your people who have shown us respect and honor by offering us such a fine feast and commodious lodgings. I thank you for both, and hope that your people will see such bounty as to make the fare that you have served us pale in comparison to the end of next year's harvest." "Here, here!" cried the rest of Ghalbar's party from their positions around the table. "My thanks for your good wishes," Kergidor replied. "But now, we must discuss the things that you have come to ask of us, and see whether we can do the business that you seek to complete." "My mission here is two-fold," Ghalbar said. "First, I am here to purchase supplies for an attempt to take Cresscreek back from the Dordinal rabble that occupied it last fall. Second, I wish to ask if you have knowledge about the old Houses whom, it has been said, dwell in the far north." "Why not use your own supplies for your attack against Darliss's holdings?" Krolgar asked, for the first time taking a major role in the conversation that had flowed around the table. "We are, Merchant Krolgar," Ghalbar said. "Unfortunately we don't have the food and some of the materials that we will need to equip a force of the size that we hope to put into the field. Since my cousin Margul feels that Darliss's actions are treasonous to our house, he has chosen to try to retake Cresscreek before Dordinal's hold on it becomes unshakeable." "Good strategy," Kergidor commented thoughtfully before sitting back, his chair groaning under his massive weight. "Yes," Krolgar agreed. "We have the supplies that you need, but you must understand that they will come at a high price, given the legality of Dordinal's claim to the property that you want to retake." "I understand," Ghalbar said. "However, I would point out that should Dordinal gain control in Cresscreek, they will be one step closer to choking your main southward trade route and setting high tolls on it. I would think that such a situation would be intolerable to your people." "It would make things more difficult, but as my wren-brother Larka is mayor in Hotspring, I'm sure that we will be able to make some kind of arrangement with Hegan." "Possibly," Ghalbar replied. "But I wouldn't want to bet my future on such a hope, given Hegan's history of intolerance toward your species. As I ask only for supplies, and can pay for them in gold, you lose nothing on this deal, whichever House wins the forthcoming war." "Not necessarily so," Kergidor said, "but any insult done Dordinal by our selling you supplies would be more than overcome by Hegan's pleasure at seeing Margul run through with a sword. So, I think it safe from the military standpoint to offer you what you need. Of course, Krolgar has final say on any such arrangement from the standpoint of our trade relations with our southeastern neighbor." "How much do you seek and how much would you be willing to pay?" Krolgar asked, recognizing that the profit to be made from Forst's internal politics could be great. Indeed, it might even replace the losses that he had taken when the last caravan of the northward march was attacked and utterly destroyed nearly a moon-cycle previously. "We are interested in 150 swords, 50 shields, and 500 light spears. We also seek enough food to supply the needs of two hundred human warriors for a period of twelve days." "Such supplies will not come easily," "I am prepared to offer 3,000 silver and 2,000 gold pieces for what I seek," Ghalbar said. "It will cost you at least a thousand more in both gold and silver," came Krolgar's counter-offer. "3,500 silver and 2,200 gold," Ghalbar replied quickly. "3,700 silver, and 2,700 gold." "3,650 silver and 2,400 gold but only if you add transportation into the bargain," Ghalbar replied. "3,600 silver and 2,600 gold with transportation as part of the bargain and you will have an arrangement." "I will consider this bargain complete if you will accept a price of 3,600 silver and 2,500 gold," Ghalbar said knowing that they were now closing in on an arrangement. "Very well," Krolgar sighed, seemingly distressed at the hardness of Ghalbar's bargain. However, in reality, he knew well that a great profit was being made, and was willing to give a little extra, considering the Forst noble's respect for his people's customs. "On the matter of the northern houses," Kergidor said, retaking his place as lead negotiator, "We have only marginal contact with them, but can assure you that they do exist. They have suffered greatly from raids by others even more distant from Fairwoods than they are. If you can promise Forst's support in their hope to reestablish communication with His Majesty, I believe that you might succeed in convincing them to ally themselves with you. "You will, of course, have to send a representative to speak with them on this. The way is incredibly dangerous in the best of weather, and you will have to take a Mage to guide you if you hope to survive the journey now. You will have to pay one of our local Mages to make the trip with your representative. Given the dangers, the trip will be neither easy nor inexpensive. " "Very well," Ghalbar said with a sigh, wishing now that Charla had continued on with them in spite of the dangers to herself and to their House. "As lead of our party, I shall go and speak with them. I would ask that my companions be allowed to stay here until my return, when we will depart and return to Forst lands." "I'm sure that the inn-keeper will be pleased of their patronage," Krolgar replied for the middle aged troll who had been quietly observing the proceedings. "That I shall," he said, bustling up to offer the young men and women of House Forst his best rooms. The bargaining went quickly, and within half a candlemark, all were abed, preparing for the day to come. End of Chapter Twelve THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter-Spring 2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Thirteen "And Lord Maalfees, how is your lady wife?" Lita, playing the part of the Householder, threw herself into her role. "Very kind of you to ask, I'm sure, Your Highness. Fit as a soul-eater, she is. Why only yesterday, I caught her fiddling with the codpiece of one of my young proteges." Shannon and Livirnea exploded into a fit of giggles. Finally, Livirnea wiped her eyes and declared, "Lita! If you want to help Shannon learn the social graces, you have to stop doing that!" The young would-be Queen snorted. "I don't know. This is the first lesson I've really enjoyed." Lita sighed. "I am sorry, my Lady. But they're such a contemptible bunch, I can't help myself." Livirnea rolled her eyes. "All right. Would it help if you changed roles, perhaps? Can you think of a noble that you could play who would not be quite so tempting to lampoon?" The elven servant's brow's knit in thought. "Well, there's your father of course. But-- I know! How about Prince Mavor?" "Excellent! And Shannon, this will give you an opportunity to test your knowledge of elven language and history. Very well, let's start again." At the noblewoman's nod, Shannon spoke the traditional Elvish words of greeting, and inquired if the 'Prince' would join them for tea. Livirnea looked on approvingly. Shannon had made good progress. She took to the elven language surprisingly easily, though she still had her problems with the pronunciation of the guttural troll tongue, and with the intricacies of the unique gargoyle grammatical structure. She was approaching the level of competence in those languages that any young noblewoman who would be Queen would have. Unfortunately, Old Realm, the language in which she would have to be fluent in order to take part in the diverse royal rituals, was much more difficult for her. While she was becoming more conversant with Realm history, the myriad aspects of the culture, customs and traditions still posed problems. Not a lesson went by that Shannon did not trip up on some minor, but telling, point or other. Once it might be forgetting to sit down so guests could seat themselves. Another time it might be an inappropriate informality of speech, and another it might be an awkward movement or omitted phrase in a traditional verbal exchange. Such gaffes frustrated and frightened Livirnea, because she had not anticipated them. In every case they had been small but noticeable mistakes, mistakes a Realm native never would have made. Even worse, they had come up in the course of a perfectly normal exchange of words or custom that the young noblewoman took for granted. She simply hadn't recognized the dangers until it was too late. Thank the Goddess there were still many moon-cycles to drill her in what must now become her way of life. Shannon was doing well, but they would need every candlemark of the time available to them. "Well done!" The three women around the tea table jumped, and turned toward the door of Livirnea's beautifully appointed quarters. King Andalor and Reinald stood observing, the old Mage nodding happily. Instantly, the women got to their feet. "Andalor! What a surprise!" Shannon glided to her fiance's side, dropped a graceful curtsey, and took him by the hand. "How long have you been here?" The young King smiled. "Long enough to be very impressed with your progress." "Very impressed, indeed," agreed Reinald. "Why, you walk like a Queen now, Shannon!" "I have Livirnea to thank for that. And Lita's been helping too! Liv had this great idea that I might learn better in realistic situations, so Lita is the mystery guest of the day. Today she's been Prince Mavor." "That is an excellent idea. And, 'Prince Mavor', what report have you for me?" the King asked, his purple eyes twinkling. "Lady Shannon will speak Elvish as well as I do soon. She has a real knack for it, she does. And in our discussion of elven history, she did well. Got the name of Prince Mavor's great great grandfather wrong, but otherwise good. Aye, quite proud of her, I am." "Thank you, Lita. We can always count on you." "That you can, Your Majesty. I'll do anything to see you two happily married," she declared, looking the King straight in the eyes. "Anything." She paused, smiling mischievously. "Though you might not have been thanking me a candlemark ago, when I was doing my impression of Lady Darliss of Forst. It's very popular down in the kitchens." Reinald chuckled as Andalor smothered a grin. "Some people just beg ridicule, Lita. Though if you ever quote me, I'll deny it." "It'll be our secret then, Sire. Now, I must be off - I have many duties before I'm done for the day. Tomorrow afternoon, as usual, Lady Livirnea?" "Please. If you have time." As the elf left, the King exclaimed, "Liv! I'm so sorry, I forgot you've been standing all this time. Please, sit." Instead of seating herself, she walked to meet him and took his free hand. "Nonsense, Andalor. I've been pampered long enough. I am well and strong again, as Kyla promised." While the others seated themselves around the tea table, Shannon set to brewing a fresh pot. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that, Liv," the King said fondly. "Your father should be so proud of you. Coming here, and doing what you are for Shannon, for me, and for the Realm is a tremendous service, one we will be hard-pressed to repay. That you were injured is bad enough; if it had cost you your life, I never would have forgiven myself." "Well, I'm fine now." Livirnea affirmed, patting his hand. "Besides, I fully accepted all the possible risks. And for once I feel useful, which is the best medicine of all." Shannon brought the tea to the table. "I'll pour." Andalor's brows rose in surprise. Not only was she pouring, but doing so beautifully, a far cry from the slap-dash hospitality she would have meted out only a few moon-cycles before. She sat on the edge of her chair, her spine ramrod-straight, sipping at her tea daintily. But beneath that ladylike exterior, he knew beat the heart of a warrior, a strong woman upon whom he could count for love and support. He felt tears sting his eyes. His Shannon. Goddess, he was fortunate. "So tell us of the horrors of kingship, Andalor," Livirnea asked, smiling. "What dangers lurk?" He returned her smile, but it was a grim one. "For a starter, my marriage to Shannon is not the only one which occupies my thoughts these days. A catastrophe is in the making." "Lady Darliss and Lord Hegan?" guessed Shannon. He nodded. "Even in the dismal history of the Noble Houses, this is a new low. I simply cannot believe House Forst has been so ill-advised as to allow this marriage to take place. As you know, I see all the contracts of marriages between the Houses. This one-- ! It gives Dordinal everything, absolutely everything. I will be surprised if House Forst survives at all after this marriage takes place. The carnage wrought by the Dark Queen may not yet be over. So many Householders and leading nobles were killed in the collapse of the Great Hall. Not that they were an easy bunch to deal with, but to have an imbecile like Darliss in such a position is insanity. This marriage will totally upset the equilibrium of the Houses, with Dordinal emerging much stronger than the others. And Lord Hegan is both ambitious and cold-blooded. He will waste no time in making use of his advantage." "But Andalor, can't you stop it?" his fiancee asked. Reinald replied. "Unfortunately not, my dear. You see, by our traditions, the King must be informed of House marriages, but he does not specifically have the power to deny them." "That would take a special meeting of the Council of Representatives," explained Livirnea. "Although many of the Houses may be against this particular marriage and see the dangers in it, they also know it would not be in their interests to set a precedent by stopping it. That only occurred once, many generations ago. A terrible war broke out as a result, leaving the Realm in ruins, most of the Houses without leaders, and the King who called the Council to deny the marriage dead by assassination." "Goddess! Andalor, don't-- " He took Shannon's hand and stroked it. "Don't worry. I have no intention of calling a Council. We can only hope that something happens so their marriage never takes place. A lover's spat, perhaps." Livirnea noticed her friend was still in full 'Queen mode'. "Shannon, you've worked hard today. Just relax and be yourself now." The girl smiled a bit self-consciously. "You know, it's funny, but it's almost becoming natural now. I don't even have to think about it." Andalor and Reinald traded glances again. "I'm so happy to hear you say that, Shannon. I have some news for both you and Livirnea." His fiancee tensed. "Good news? Or bad?" "Both." "All right," she sighed. "Hit me with the bad news first." "The High Priestess informed me that the date for the Ritual of Readiness has been set. As you probably know, the Seers choose the dates of important occasions based on their visions." He paused. "You may not believe in such things, and there are certainly times that I question if I do, but that is our way." She nodded warily. "Well, apparently the day that most favors your passing the Ritual of Readiness is a bit sooner than we were expecting." The King studied his teacup diligently. Across the table, Reinald's eyes were closed and his lips moved silently with the words of a spell that would reinforce the shield around Shannon, should her emotions get the better of her. The girl did not fail to notice. "Andalor, what exactly is your definition of 'a bit sooner'?" she asked evenly. "Uh... three moon-cycles?" Later, Reinald could not decide who gasped louder in dismay, Shannon or Livirnea. "Three. Moon-cycles. That's your idea of 'a bit'?" Shannon's struggle to control her emotions -- panic, self-doubt, resentment -- was clear to everyone in the chamber. "Andalor, I know we have no choice in the matter, and I'm sure the Seers believe what they're doing, but... have you lost your mind?" Livirnea took an unsteady breath. "I apologize. Look, Shannon has made wonderful progress and has worked herself hard, harder than I have ever seen anyone work. But this is just not fair! We needed every moment as it was, but now-- !" The King raised his hand. "That's the bad news. And believe me, I do not take it lightly. But I said there was good news, as well." "Ballorca's dead?" Shannon joked darkly. "Not that good," Andalor admitted, smiling. "But nearly. Reinald?" "Well, my dear, your father, Mage Mulder, Mage Tarnor and I have been working on something to help. A spell. Actually, it was Mulder who had the initial idea. Since he's a bit handicapped by his world, we have developed it further. The spell, assuming it works correctly, would give you what Mulder and Andalor were gifted with naturally - an eidetic memory. You would still have to read the history books and so on, but you would be able to remember perfectly everything that you had read. It won't help you learn our traditional dances, or the troll tongue, since that is not a written language. But it will help you to learn anything that's written down. The Old Realm language, the rituals, our history and customs...." Trembling, Shannon rose. "Just... give me a minute." She paced slowly over to the windows across the chamber. As she stared out at the bucolic scene before her -- fieldbeasts happily munching at haystacks, younglings bundled up against the cold playing hoopball -- her mind raced. Suddenly, she turned. "This spell -- is it ready?" "Nearly," replied Reinald. "Tarnor wanted to make some adjustments to the material aspects. But it should be ready in a day or two." She rejoined them at the table, pulling her chair closer to Andalor's. He grasped her hand in his, shocked at how cold it was. She was badly shaken, he thought, far more shaken than her restrained behavior would suggest. He had never been more proud of her. "You said 'assuming it works correctly'. What precisely did you mean by that?" she asked quietly. Again, Andalor and the Royal Mage exchanged glances. "We haven't tested it. We're not even sure it can be tested," Reinald admitted. Shannon's expression was distant as she considered. "So, if it doesn't work correctly, it could, for example, wipe my memory clean of everything I've learned so far." "But that won't hap-- " Andalor began, but the Royal Mage broke in. "No, my boy, she's asked an excellent question and deserves an honest answer. Which is, my dear," he said, turning to her, "that we don't know. Wiping your memory clean is certainly not a result that I would expect, but I honestly cannot tell you that there is no possibility of that happening. All new spells, even perfectly composed and flawlessly cast, involve an element of risk. I believe that risk to be small, but I could be mistaken." Slowly she nodded, and stood up. "I have to think about this. I know you're all trying to help, and I am grateful. But if I lose what I have learned, what I've worked so hard for, it's a certainty that I will fail the Ritual of Readiness. I'm not sure I want to risk that." "I'll walk you to your quarters," Andalor said quietly. Reinald stood, approached Shannon and embraced her warmly. "My dear, no matter what you decide, in my books you have already passed the Ritual. This evening, you have behaved as a true Queen in every way." Shannon's smile did not reach her eyes, which were clouded with worry. "Thanks, Reinald." His arm around her shoulders, Andalor led Shannon slowly down the length of the chamber and closed the door softly behind them. "Livirnea, you have been extremely quiet," Reinald observed. "What say you?" "Come, let us get more comfortable." She gestured toward the sofa, and they sat down together. "I must tell you, I am torn. Shannon has applied herself and is doing wonderfully. She has already accomplished so much. But every time I dare to hope that we will be ready, I find there is some small thing I have not thought to teach her which trips her up. I am frightened that something of the sort will happen during the Ritual -- that she will fail and it will be my fault." "Oh, my dear-- " "No, Royal Mage, let me finish. Because of that fear, I would take comfort in the spell that you Mages have composed. Surely, most of our customs and traditions have been recorded in some tome or other, and Shannon would not be forced to rely only upon me. Especially now that the preparation time has been so severely curtailed." She laughed humorlessly. "I suppose, in that, I am being selfish. But I can also well understand Shannon's fear. If the unthinkable happened and the spell made things worse instead of better, there would be no hope at all of her passing the Ritual." She sighed. "I do not envy Shannon her decision. I doubt she will get much rest tonight." Reinald nodded. "I know, and I agree. The other Mages and I have agonized over this, repeatedly going over every word of the spell, looking for traps, making sure that the meaning is unambiguous. That is one of the greatest risks in spell composing. Tarnor has even started devising a 'rescue' spell, so in case the worst does occur we have a means of undoing it. But the completion of that spell is many weeks off, and there is no guarantee that that would be effective either." "Royal Mage, tell me honestly - what do you believe are the chances of success with your spell?" "As the Professor would say, better than average. Perhaps as high as seventy five percent. But-- " "But that still leaves a one in four risk of disaster," Livirnea concluded. "Regrettably, that is so. Shannon will have to decide for herself if the risks are worth it. We can do nothing but support her decision." Livirnea looked grim. "And deal with the consequences." * * * * The negotiations had been going on for nearly three candlemarks, and Randock was pleased with Margul's plans. However, his House had never been known for its haste where agreements were concerned, and Randock felt it was his duty to his family and its supporters to maintain this honorable tradition. Unfortunately, doing so was a strain on the negotiators. He knew that he would soon have to agree to the plan or risk serious diplomatic problems with the high House at Forst. However, he could afford to play out the string a little further; he wanted to test the younger man's diplomatic skills. Not only would such skills be important for the building of the coalition that Margul wanted to throw against Dordinal, but also in maintaining it once victory had been achieved. "No matter how many men and how much money the others and I give you, Dordinal will be able to outmatch you by at least five to one," Randock said, focusing on the one part of the plan that caused him true discomfort. "True," Margul admitted. "But you know as well as I do that they will not be able to concentrate their resources against us unless leaks occur. Particularly when those resources are being expended in useless feuding amongst a number of well-matched and equally foolish pretenders. Only Hegan poses a threat, and by destroying his position at Cresscreek, we will weaken him sufficiently to guarantee years of war within Dordinal." "And you suspect me of contemplating such a leak?" Randock demanded, honestly angered at the younger man's presumption of his disloyalty. "Actually, no," Margul replied. "Your family has been loyal to mine for longer than any other, and you were the first from the outside to come to me and demand that I take control at Forst. But as you know well, rumors move faster than a Mage through a gate, and we daren't take such chances." "True," Randock agreed quickly. Secretly, he was pleased by the young noble's wisdom. "But I am still concerned by the comparatively limited strength of your forces." "As I would be, save for the fact that we have access to some... unusual capabilities... that will strengthen my forces greatly," Margul replied, somewhat uncomfortably. "I will not speak further of them, other than to say that as my liege, you need recognize that it doesn't benefit me to have your House weakened by losses." "Not necessarily," Randock snapped. "After all, if you had direct control over my lands, your base would be greatly strengthened." "Only if I could control that base. If I lose in the forthcoming campaign, it is likely that you will be given the option to join Dordinal instead, should you desire such a fate." "No!" the old noble said quickly. "That fate I would not wish on my worst enemy." "Then we are agreed on a plan?" Margul asked. Randock considered for a moment. He had put himself in the position of having to accept Margul's guarantee, much as he would have liked to know more of these special capabilities. "Yes, we are agreed." "Then I wish you the best in collecting your resources," Margul said. As he rose, the woman who had accompanied him moved to stand beside him. "I shall look forward to accompanying your contingent into battle at the end of the third twin full moon of planting season." "As you say," Randock said, rising to see them from his study. He bowed to Margul, and then turned to his companion, ready to give her the same obeisance. His eyes widened in shock. While his back was turned, her clothing had shifted in aspect from that of a noblewoman accompanying her Householder on a long and cold journey, to that of a powerful Mage, whose cloak was nearly as dark a blue as that of the Royal Mage Reinald. Before he could say anything to her about this fantastic change, her aspect shifted back to that of the wealthy noblewoman. The small smile with which she greeted him when he bowed over her hand made it clear that the change had been intentional. It was as much a guarantee of Margul's resources as it was a warning of the consequences, should he speak of what he had just seen, and the deliberations which had gone before. "My lady," he said quietly, bowing deeply before her. "Sir," she replied as she stepped through the door, neither Margul nor the servant accompanying them aware of the exchange that had just occurred. End of Chapter Thirteen THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - The Firebrand By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed (ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu) Winter-Spring 2001 Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00 Chapter Fourteen The first rays of sun glinted through heavily frosted windows as the Mages sat in front of Reinald's hearth. Fatigue showed on their faces, in their reddened eyes, in the slump of their shoulders. Ever since Shannon had been told of the possibility that could bring success or ruin, they had worked ceaselessly on every facet of their creation, trying to foresee any problems, making it as safe and effective as possible. "We have done everything we can," Hannu commented wearily. "Now it is up to Shannon." Indeed, the teenager had yet to make a decision. It had been three long days and nights since she was told of the shortened preparation time, and the spell that could mean everything. Days of work and worry, nights of tossing and turning for everyone involved. The Mages did not even look up as Lita entered to set breakfast out on the refectory table. "I agree," said Reinald. "I can well understand Shannon's reluctance. However, at this point, we are losing valuable time. Lady Livirnea has noted scant progress in the last few days. It is no wonder -- the child has gotten little sleep, has thought of little else, so consumed is she with making the right decision. But she will have to make it soon." In the manner that had made her privy to so much knowledge in the past, Lita kept her ears open, went about her duties quietly, and tried to blend into the background. A big decision? Why had she not caught wind of this before? "As Hannu says, we have done everything we can. This spell has been picked apart, syllable by syllable. Infinitely more care has been taken with it than usual -- which, of course, under the circumstances, is only right," Tarnor observed. "The fate of the Realm hangs in the balance." The bowl she was holding slipped from Lita's hands in her astonishment, and only by her quick reaction and some deft juggling did she manage to avoid the crash that would focus unwanted attention on her. What was this spell that was so important, she wondered. "I would just feel better if we could test it," Hannu persisted. The Royal Mage sighed. "We have been over this, Hannu. While I appreciate your feelings for your daughter, the only possible test subjects are ourselves. If the spell were to have unexpected consequences, it would take the talents of all of us to undo the damage. If even one of us were incapacitated, that would be impossible." As Hannu opened his mouth to retort, Reinald continued. "Because of our efforts of the past few days, Tarnor's recovery spell has languished. As that spell could save us from disaster, it is a priority should things go wrong." His expression softened. "I know what's at stake here, Hannu. Andalor is no less threatened by the failure of this spell than Shannon. But even you must admit that no spell has been more thoroughly researched, has had the care taken that this one has." "That is true," Hannu replied heatedly. "But we are venturing into unknown territory with this spell. It is innovative and extremely intricate." Tarnor shrugged. "Agreed. But the same can be said for most new spells -- they all attempt to do something that has not been done before. I believe Reinald's argument holds, in spite of the threat to the Realm -- and of course Shannon --should the spell fail. We simply have no other options." "Aye, you do. Test it on me." The heads of the Mages snapped around. They had obviously forgotten her, if they had ever noticed her at all, and now Lita stood stolidly, hands on hips, surveying them. She might be afraid of the possible consequences of her offer, but was equally determined to see it through. "Uh... Lita, we didn't realize you were here," Tarnor said uncomfortably. "That is a generous, courageous and selfless offer, Lita, but I am afraid we can't accept it." "And why not, I'd like to know," she demanded, her temper flaring. "Am I not good enough?" The Royal Mage rose and went to her, taking her hand and leading her to the hearth. "We're very proud and grateful to you that you would offer, and we know you want to help. But this is not the way," he said kindly. "First, even though you are volunteering, we cannot ethically accept." "But-- " "And secondly," he went on, patting her hand, "it appears that eidetic memories occur only in humans. The spell was composed based on that fact. If we cast it on you, we would have no idea of its effects. You would just as likely sprout feathers or grow to the height of the roof beams as become able to remember everything you had read." "But I appreciate the offer, more than I can say." Shannon closed the door and paced down to the hearth. Leaning over, she hugged the servant warmly. "Thank you, Lita. But there are some things I'm just going to have to face by myself." "Very well, Lady Shannon. But if ever I can help out-- " "I'll call on you, Lita. I promise. You're a good friend." The servant felt a lump in her throat. Curtly, before her emotions showed, she nodded and left the chamber. "So, Shannon -- have you made your decision?" "I think so, Dad. But before I give you my answer, I want to ask a favor." "What is it, child?" Reinald asked, curiosity lighting his eyes. "I'd like to talk to Warrior Healer Scully." His brows rose in surprise. "Not Mage Mulder?" Shaking her head, she took a seat by the hearth. "No. No, his instinct is to protect me - like you, Dad. And if I know Mulder, he is already having a fit of the guilts about all this - what he might be exposing me to in this spell. Scully will give me an honest opinion. She can separate her emotions from her intellect much better than Mulder can. She'll be able to help me think straight, so I can make the right decision." Hannu nodded. "Very wise, my dear. All right then - shall we?" The Mages rose and congregated around the large circular table in the center of the chamber. Reinald drew back the dark blue velvet covering from the Oracle Cloud and the Mages began their chant. The mists in the Cloud swirled and deepened in hue. "Ouch! Dammit!" The image of Dana Scully sharpened in the Oracle Cloud. "Mulder was right, Reinald, you have to do something about this overheating problem." He chuckled. "Well, we have quite a bit on our plates at the moment, but we will get around to it eventually. You are just who we wanted, by the way." The expression of relief on her face was so fleeting it might not have ever been. "Someone here would like to talk to you." The Mages withdrew, closing the iron-bound door securely as they left. "Shannon! It's wonderful to see you." Her tone changed and she frowned. "Is everything all right? You don't look well," Scully observed shrewdly. "I haven't been sleeping. Scully, I have a decision to make, and I'm not sure what to do. Mulder told you about the spell he's been working on, right?" She smiled. Her bondmate had worked on that spell with his customary obsessiveness. Through their unique bond, only Scully was aware that the man who appeared to be paying rapt attention to briefings and budget meetings was actually engrossed in the building of a magic spell for use in another reality. "It occupied all of his spare time for several weeks. Yes, I know about it." "Well... it might help me to pass this Ritual of Readiness, and you know how vital that is. The problem is, the spell can't be tested, and even Reinald admitted it could wipe my memory clear of everything I've learned so far. And if that happens, I'm screwed. Scully, what do you think I should do?" "There are rarely any guarantees in life, Shannon. The trick is knowing when you should take the risk and when you should walk away. All right. Say you don't have the spell cast on you. What would be the result?" The girl smiled grimly. "Unless there's a miracle, I'll fail. The test date has been moved up -- way up. I can't possibly learn everything I'm supposed to know in the time left. Plus, I've never been very good at tests, anyway. Even when I know the stuff, my brain just sort of freezes." "Well, then I'd say your decision's been made for you," Scully said reasonably. She smiled. "Look, if the other Mages have worked as hard as Mulder has on this, and I'm sure they have, then I think you have very little to worry about." Shannon nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I had pretty much figured that out. It just helps to hear you say it. You're the most sensible person I know, Dana, and if you think the spell is the only way to go, then that's the way it is." She peered at the Oracle Cloud image. "By the way, you don't look so good, either. What's wrong? Is it Mulder?" Scully bit her lip, then replied, "I guess I'm a little short on sleep myself." She took a deep, shaky breath. "Mulder's been in the hospital, Shannon. He was injured on one of our cases." "Oh, no -- not again!" Shannon had learned a great deal when the bondmates related stories about their work to pass the time on the long journey to find Hannu. Some were funny and some scary, but all too often they ended with one or the other in the hospital. "Is he okay?" Her smile, meant to be reassuring, was trembling and half-hearted. "He will be. But it was a close one. He's home with me now, sleeping in the next room, but he has a lot of recovering to do. Look, do me a favor, Shannon. Don't mention this to our friends there. They would only worry, and there's nothing they can do. He'll be okay. That's Mulder, he always bounces back, right?" Shannon could tell that the Warrior Healer was near tears from exhaustion and concern. "Yes, he does, and you need to remind yourself of that. Try not to worry, Dana." Wordlessly, Scully nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. The girl continued, "Anyway, it's a deal. I won't tell anyone here. But you have to promise me something. Don't tell Mulder I talked to you, okay? I don't want him to think I'm ungrateful for all the work he put into the spell, or that I don't trust him and the other Mages. And especially I don't want him to think I'm a wimp!" "He would never think that, honey. He's seen you in action. And he'd be happy to know that I spoke to you and you were okay." "All right, then. Give him my love, okay, Dana? And... and tell him I miss him, and that he'd better stay out of the hospital for a while, or... or we'll all show up at his bedside, including Tarnor and Jhorghab! And he can try explaining *them* to everyone!" Scully laughed for the first time in a week. "It's a deal! I'll tell him." Sobering, she advised, "The spell will work, Shannon. Go into it confidently, and the Mages won't let you down." "I will, Dana. Thanks." The mists swirled and the image of the Warrior Healer was gone. Shannon was still sitting there deep in thought when the Mages returned. Andalor was with them. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaning down, kissed her cheek. "Andalor!" Smiling, she rose and took his hand. "Mages, I have made my decision. I will have the spell cast." The King squeezed her hand, his admiration for her shining in his eyes. "Ah, excellent! You will not regret this, Shannon, I swear to you," Reinald said heartily. "Come join us for breakfast, and tell us news of our far-off friends." She blanched. That was just about the last thing Shannon wanted to do. "Wish I could, Reinald, but I'm due to have a lesson with Livirnea." "Then I have some good news for you! Lady Livirnea is not expecting you today. Tomorrow will be a big day -- a day of focus and work for us. So today will be a day of rest for us all." The Royal Mage gestured to the refectory table. Uncomfortably Shannon took her place between Andalor and her father. Reinald flipped his hand, muttered a few words and the items which had cooled on the table were once again piping hot. "I was not expecting to see Warrior Healer Scully. Usually it is Mulder who wears the Oracle Crystal," Tarnor commented conversationally, dipping into his steaming bowl of elven porridge. "Yes -- lucky, wasn't it, seeing as it was Scully I wanted to speak to anyway." Shannon took a large bite of fruit, hoping that the talk would pass on to other subjects. She should have known better. The Mages looked at her expectantly, waiting politely as she chewed so that she could continue. Swallowing the delicious morsel she no longer had any taste for, she yielded to the inevitable and went on. "Mulder was occupied -- something he couldn't be disturbed from. Scully was at home so she took the crystal, just in case." Well, none of it was an outright lie, she reasoned. Still, Andalor seemed to pick up the tension in her voice and was looking at her questioningly. "I understood they always worked together," Hannu observed mildly. "Oh, well, I'm sure that this is an unusual circumstance," his daughter dismissed. "So, tell me about the spell. Is there anything I have to do?" To Shannon's relief, the conversation veered onto matters closer to hand. But she ate little, her thoughts on her faraway friends who had rescued her a lifetime before. * * * * "I cannot understand it!" His palm came down with a bang on the mantelpiece in frustration. "His daughter injured while under the protection of the King, and still Mandor remains a strong ally of the royal house! What in the name of the gods is he thinking?" Ruloth threw himself into a chair. "Perhaps Mandor enjoys the role of the King's lapdog," one of the other nobles joked. "Possibly," replied their leader. "Possibly. Or it is just possible that Mandor knows something that we do not -- some strength that Andalor has not yet shown, some asset he has kept hidden from the rest of us." That the Householder of Ranfaus could simply cherish the concepts of honor and fidelity would not occur to them. The Heads of Households, the leaders of the Noble Houses, tended to distrust those attributes as counterproductive to their goals. "What hidden strength could Andalor have?" scoffed Vestor. "Maybe none. Mandor could be just what we expect - a lackey, a toady. But still, it is never wise to underrate an opponent. We must redouble our efforts to learn more about what secrets the Castle could hold." Ruloth, in charge of intelligence for the group, scratched his chin. "There just may be something in that. There has been a certain air of secrecy at the Castle of late." He shook his head in frustration. "Perhaps that is putting it too strongly. But there has certainly been a degree of tension. Some of it might be explained by the tasks Andalor has before him -- rebuilding the Realm; the interspecies bloodshed that continues in remote areas; dealing with the unfortunate state of brigandage on the roads." He smiled over at Vestor. "But still I think there is something else. Very well, I will prod our informants. Perhaps I might motivate them to become more observant." "Whatever you need in terms of 'motivation', you shall have," their leader promised. "Now as for my report, I have not much that is new. Of course the Houses here have been buzzing over Hegan's ascendancy at Dordinal. He appears also to be courting Darliss of Forst. A nauseating thought, to be sure -- 'tis a wonder he has the stomach for it. But he has few attributes to bring to his position, and I suspect he knows it. Forst is a minor power, nowhere near what they were some generations ago, but an alliance with Dordinal would bode badly for the rest of us. There has not been an inter-House marriage for many season-cycles that has the potential this one has to promote Dordinal's interests at the expense of all the other Houses. It bears watching. "However," he continued pensively, "there may be some help on that score. Things at Forst are almost too quiet. I have no proof of this, nothing I can put my finger on, but I suspect an undercurrent of dissention. I feel that surely there must be someone of Forst who will emerge to fight Darliss for control of the House. If I were of House Forst, that is surely what I would do, rather than see the family led by someone like her." He was silent and thoughtful for some long moments, then said, "Vestor, your report." "I daresay we have done well. We have pulled off three ambushes. A troll caravan carrying the proceeds from the sale of their wares netted several fat purses of golds and silvers. In their present state, those trolls will have no use of such worldly items." There were guffaws from the assemblage. "There is nothing quite so satisfying," Vestor continued, "as the slaughter of non-humans, and to be enriched in the process...." The rough noble winked at his companions, then continued. "And there were two parties of nobles ambushed - one from Highlands and one from Dordinal. We took everything of value but allowed enough of them to survive to ensure that word of the attacks would get back to their Householders." "We kept nothing that could be traced back to us?" demanded the leader sharply. "No, milord. Just the money. I distributed the weapons, armor and jewels to the mercenaries." He nodded curtly. "Good." "But I was thinking, milord. Sooner or later, it is going to be noticed that our own House has not yet fallen victim to these attacks. At the same time, there are some presumptuous members of this House who would overthrow you if they could -- the same ones who would object most strongly to our plans for our future." The austere older noble eyed him speculatively. "Yes? Go on." "Well... I was thinking -- both problems could be dealt with quite effectively and efficiently. At least once every moon-cycle, we send a party out to our lands far to the West, bringing news, supplies and so on. If such a party were to be composed of our more... troublesome... members, and were to meet with a particularly savage attack from brigands...." Vestor left his thought hanging. "B-but that would be murdering our own!" huffed one portly older noble. "I don't like it!" "Truly, Kevath? I thought you were committed to our plan, our goals," the leader said silkily. Ruloth rose from his chair to wander restlessly around the chamber. Beads of sweat appeared on Kevath's brow. "Oh, but I am, milord! Most solidly, most faithfully! B-but this is a bit different, don't you think? I mean, mur-- " His words were cut off as Ruloth came up from behind and, grasping Kevath's head firmly in his hands, violently pulled in a clockwise direction. Some of the men assembled winced as they heard his neck bones splinter. Kevath lolled lifelessly in his chair. "Now, do we have any other dissenters to Vestor's plan?" The lead noble looked at the mostly pale faces around the hearth. "I thought not." His tone turned harsh. "Before we are through, before we have caused the downfall of the King and the ascendancy of our own House to an unprecedented position of power, we will have many such decisions to make. Did you think this was going to be easy?" he thundered. He looked toward the closed door in alarm and lowered his voice. "Sooner or later, the entire House is going to have to unite behind our plan. That means that those who would disagree, who would work against us and turn us over to the King, must be weeded out. Vestor's plan is elegant in its efficiency. We deflect suspicion from ourselves, give the Noble Houses more ammunition against the King, further undermining his reign, while at the same time ridding us of those who would thwart us. I say we go with it." There were nods, some enthusiastic, some more reluctant, from the men assembled. "Very well. You are dismissed." He caught Vestor's sleeve as the noble stood to leave. "Vestor, you and Ruloth take charge of Kevath. He can't be found here. In a candlemark or so, when most of the House will be in the Refectory having dinner, take Kevath up to the third floor, where his quarters are, and toss his body down the staircase. Extinguish enough torches that it will appear he lost his footing in the dark. This must look like an accident." He stood, surveying the two men, his eyes narrowing. "I chose wisely in bringing you two into our plans. Stay loyal to me, and you will not regret it." End of Chapter Fourteen