Carrion birds covered the land and the bodies of the freshly dead, some of them mine. If I wanted to I could see through their eyes, hear through their ears, but for the moment I was letting them be simple beasts, satisfying their instinctive urges. Soon enough I’d have to pull them off, lest they be so glutted they couldn’t fly. Perhaps if I was other than myself, had led a life other than mine; the stink of death filling my nostrils would bother me, but I only felt a mild sense of pity at the waste of all of this material…. Death was no stranger to me.
The landfall at this southern beach was an overwhelming success, the fort of Delphine taken, and the troops under Caine were fortifying their positions. It had been an easy one, with my spells of illusion and obfuscation to the enemy contributing a great part of that ease. Benedict was leading troops from the east, and news of their victories was already reaching us in the south. "A show of force by the new Queen," Caine had said, about the overwhelming force Amber was bringing to bear. I wondered what it was supposed to prove and to whom?
Prince Brennus, serving (I knew) under Caine for the nonce, was walking the battlefield towards me, and I wondered idly if he had even fought in the fray, or if he was still too young to be let loose in combat situations without a keeper yet. He was probably awaiting orders just like I was myself, about how to go about making it to the rendezvous point with Benedict’s forces, through the enemy that held the intervening ground.
Tall and athletic, youthful of appearance, Brennus had light brown hair, with pale eyes and an even paler complexion. He stood amidst a group of men, clearly his own, dressed in a set of plate armour decorated with designs in black and red enamel; it was obviously extremely expensive and exquisitely crafted, leading me to wonder yet again if he had even seen combat, so pretty it was. At his side he bore a heavy sword that at least looked like it was meant to be used and not admired as a museum piece. As soon as he saw me, a haughty expression crossed his face, as he said,
"You there fellow, who are you, where do you think you are going?"
Turning in response to the somewhat abrupt hail, I acted as if I hadn’t been aware of him, and said,
"Brennus, isn't it? I remember your birth ceremony."
An expression of annoyance showed on his features as the Princeling changed stance, throwing back his heavy black cloak lined in red silk to free his right arm. He stood with fists clenched and arms akimbo, his legs planted shoulder width apart. I almost laughed in his face, yet years of diplomacy training stood me in good stead. Who in the world was he posing for? Himself? His followers? Surely not me…could he think I would be so easily impressed or intimidated? No – he must be doing it to make himself feel better, bigger, than he feared he really was. Really quite wet behind the ears still, to be sure. He spoke again.
"That's Prince Brennus to you. I asked you two questions, you have answered neither. I will repeat them lest you in your ignorance might not be capable of answering. Who are you? Where are you going?"
He smiled slightly, mockingly, very sure of himself. Was he even blooded against a real foe yet? Not these ‘shadows’ – they were barely more than fresh meat for my birds. Had he faced, in deadly combat, one who was better than he and survived? That is when you are blooded truly – for you have faced the specter of death and fear and failure and triumphed. You respect the role that fortune and mischance have to play, and you have been forced, in order to survive, to do things you’d rather not admit to having done. Setting my musings aside, my own expression unchanged, I answered, saying,.
"I am Mordred, of Rebma. You really need to spend more time about the Court you know, if you expect to know who is who. If you wish to know where I am going, and why, you'll have to speak to my superior... and yours - *Prince* Benedict."
One of the soldiers by Brennus' side grew slightly red in the face and took the hilt of his sword in his hand, although he did not draw it. The man was several inches shorter than Brennus, but much wider of build. He had pitch black hair - cropped close to his skull - and heavily tanned skin. He was clean shaven, unlike most of the soldiers, and his face was slightly familiar – perhaps a member of one of the noble houses, I thought – which was then confirmed when he spoke with a Noble Amber accent.
"Watch your tongue when you address your betters, Rebman."
He appeared to be awaiting the slightest sign from Brennus to draw his blade. Now this one stumped me – was he meaning to imply that Brennus was simultaneously my better – AND – at the same time, incapable of defending himself? If so, then how was he planning on doing anything about it? Whatever, his was a position likely to get him into serious trouble if he persisted in it. I’d have to speak to someone at Court, maybe Florimel, about the nobility. Were they getting dangerously inbred? This one was more touchy than a purebred racing hound whose parents were siblings…
With a brief hand gesture Brennus seemed to be trying to communicate to someone that ‘He’ was ‘In Control’. Really it was laughable. I’d have to see if I couldn’t remember as much of this as possible to share with Merlin later on – what was the Queen thinking, letting this tadpole out into the world so completely unprepared? But wait – he was speaking again – no doubt as a part of his ‘commanding presence’ bid. I suppose even if they didn’t believe it, they had to pretend to.
"Maer, calm yourself please, this is Mordred, a mage of some repute but little breeding I fear, a lack of decorum is perhaps to be expected."
Hmmm… ‘some repute, but little breeding’ – why if it was accurate, and I had more respect for the fool, I might even have been insulted. His complacent smile still evident, Brennus looked me up and down in a manner he no doubt thought ‘cool’, before continuing,
"Do you know Maer by the way Mordred, he's the Earl of Varle, from a fine respected noble family. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your lineage or indeed your rank. But yes, Uncle Benedict is my superior, a fact I am quite comfortable with. Have you business here, a message for me perhaps?"
Ah – of course – when threatened and insecure, retreat and drop names, making sure that everyone knows how unworried you are by stating so out loud. Why was it that so many judge you by your origins, rather than your deeds? Well, it was already getting tiresome, but I’d let him give himself a bit more rope to hang himself with. I responded, saying,
"So. Although you freely admit you do not know my Lineage, you feel free to disparage it. And I suppose that you are also of the opinion that 'good breeding' guarantees both intelligence and common sense, not to mention some ambiguous type of superiority. Fascinating."
I turned as if to look around at the carnage that had been wrought, giving him a chance to save face and walk off in a huff, but he didn’t take it, so I turned again to face he and his little crew of sycophants… Time to place a few barbs perhaps, and depart. I had better things to do…
"Well I suppose it could be excused, given your youth and somewhat sheltered upbringing, but I doubt it will be. Good day."
I nodded once to Maer, mostly because it would make it clearer that I was ignoring his master, and walked off in the direction of the command tent, where Caine and the others involved in the planning of the next phase of the conflict would be gathering.
He bristled at my departure – as I knew he would; I could almost imagine his already pale face turning ashen, and his lips drawing tight - making his mouth a narrow slash. This I could have seen through the eyes of the Raven that was just to one side of him, pecking at the eyes of a fallen Corraline defender, if I’d had my more major reconnaissance spell up.
He called out in a tight voice, making such a show of ‘controlling his temper’ that I had to think it contrived. Who would voluntarily show such weakness in front of another – especially one of our family? Then of course my question was answered by he himself – who else but a callow fool?
"Hold there you damned oyl-kru! How dare you leave my presence without my permission. You will return and give account of yourself this instant."
Oyl-kru of course was an obscure word from a local Shadow which meant something along the lines of 'Blood Drinker', though I had certainly never heard it directed towards one of my own kind - I'd have to look into the origins of the word and its proper usage some time soon. Anyway, here he was entering the next phase… If name dropping and the calling up of ‘Higher Authority’ didn’t work, then it would have been glaringly obvious to anyone that the logical next step was to start with… name-calling of course! Much as I wanted to leave him speaking to the air, I slowly stopped, turned, and asked, no longer bothering to try to hide my amusement at the absurdity of it all…
"On what grounds have you managed to fabricate the supposition that I am here for any reasons but my own and those of my superior? Further, as you and I are nowhere near each other in the chain of command, why should I answer in any way to you?"
I waited for his response, and was not disappointed, for he stayed true to form…His face unreadable, he strode slowly towards me in a manner he no doubt thought full of import – maybe even threatening – Dworkin! What a caricature this youth was…He stopped several paces away, and spoke again…
"I take it then you recognize no authority other than your own whim and the military hierarchy you have chosen to follow, that the varied rank of royalty and nobility has no meaning for you. Do you then consider yourself the equal of even the most distant scion of Amber?"
Nonsensical as the first part was, he must have thought it all a very telling point. Had he not even listened to what I had said? Well the answer to that was obvious – apparently not. Maybe his head was too thick, or there was an echo inside due to its lack of content…As to the last sentence, Brennus fairly spat it out - contempt evident in every word, that there might even be a suggestion that such a thing were so. So little thought was going into his words…
First he’d admitted he had no idea as to my lineage, then he’d made suppositions about it, and now was making further assumptions – that he was somehow *by birth* higher than I in some imagined hierarchy, the ‘variegated rank of royalty and nobility.
For me, though I was willing to acknowledge it had its place in the ruling of a land, an empire, it had little or no place on a battlefield, where ability and competence, proven in the crucible of combat, should be the only qualifiers of use, the only standards of merit. Great Unicorn deliver us from fools in the military who think they are born with the inherent ability and divine right to lead – and so little sense to back that belief up. I sighed inwardly, resolved to do as I could to set him straight, though no doubt he’d not listen anymore this time than he had before…
"When I am at war, I follow my military commander and none other. How else? Am I supposed to drop whatever I am doing in order to cater to the whims of anyone with a title tacked onto their name - half of them earned by no other means than birth? That would certainly play havoc with the established command, and is no way to run a war."
I kept my tone and manner much more serious now, trying to convey to him how important my words were – that he understand the message I was trying to get across. I continued.
"Those due respect, I tender such. If you wish my respect, then you may earn it by deeds, not insulting language. If you seriously wish to know what it is I am doing and why, then you are more than welcome to apply to my commanding officer, Prince Benedict of Amber, or to the Lord Caine - also a Prince of Amber. To them I answer in this conflict and none other, unless it be the Queen herself."
Even as I spoke though, I knew I wasn’t getting through the fog of prejudice and preconceptions that filled his mind… Brennus listened to my words in silence, his face devoid of expression. When I was done, he simply said,
"You have said enough, be about your business."
Having said this he turned on his heel and walked away, Maer and his other dogs in tow. I guess he realized his ‘tactics’ - if that is what they were supposed to be, were not working and went for the easy out – denial and dismissal, and then flee, head held high to take away everyone’s eye from noticing the tail between your legs…
Smiling, I shrugged, shaking my head slightly as I continued on my way, thinking about my sometimes friend, sometimes rival Merlin, and what he would have to say about this 'performance' of his little brother. Brennus was the first legitimate heir of Corwin and Dara and was born eight months after Corwin's death. He grew up within the court of Amber, and was supposedly instructed in the gentlemanly arts, yet if this past encounter was any indication, his teachers had forgotten to tell him how an actual gentleman behaves…
Brennus supposedly had a reputation for upholding the rules of honor, yet if this was what he was taught, it seemed a very contrived set of rules – maybe designed by nobles for nobles and against all others… nothing to do with reality. I could just imagine them, the ‘Court of Nobility’, sitting about in their doublets, a smoky haze filling the air, as they debated the fine points of how to address one another.
At its worst, it was a completely artificial society, feeding off of the commoners, with laws made by and for themselves, serving only themselves and their petty interests. If this was his upbringing, he was in for a rude awakening. At Corraline, so far as I knew, he was here more as a student of Benedict's than anything else, with little if any actual say in how things were going to be done. He’d been acting as if he were the General himself…
With a gesture of my arm, backed by a pulse of thought/will/power/force along our line of connection, I sent the nearest of my birds to follow him. It could be that I would wish to know his whereabouts in the near future...
I realized that – as silly as it seemed – I was upset by the encounter. Ignorant and prejudicial in the extreme, his beliefs were based on nothing of learned knowledge. He was the Archetypal Noble Youth; An arrogant popinjay, wearing the colors of our once King, Eric - a man far better than he; An insufferable snot-nosed little puppy, barking at anything in its way to impress its fellow curs, all but wetting itself in its excitement; A fool, and likely to be the tool as well all too soon, of someone smarter, more experienced and more deceitful than he.
He did not have three decades under his belt, was barely even an adult by Amberite standards. And yet, this useless whelp was the most likely to inherit the throne by some standards? That would be the day I closed the doors of my Amber City Townhouse fast and returned to the land of Rebma UnderSea – I’d not serve nor swear fealty to a fool for anything – for little is to be gained and much to be lost in doing so.
His ignorance, mixed with arrogance, was astounding. The youth had just arrived, on board the flagship no doubt, with Caine at his side. His armor wasn’t even dusty, much less dented; I’d be willing to make a bet on even odds that his blade had not left its scabbard the entire length of the engagement. I on the other hand had been here for over four weeks. Thanks to my efforts, and much of my own blood shed, the defending troops had been far softer than otherwise would have been the case.
Finding their blades rusted into their scabbards, arrows and bolts warped so badly they wouldn’t fly straight to their targets; living off of rancid meat, rotten grain and contaminated water; The line troops all trying to dealing with disease dysentery and the flux; waking two days ago to see the water table rising so much that everything was damp and muddy, their boot leather suddenly rotted and cracked - letting the moisture in.
Then, with few of them able to even stand, short on sleep and completely demoralized by the conditions, They had to face the illusions that accompanied our attacking troops, the fog that hid their numbers and the auditory glamour that first covered their approach and later made them seem greater than they were when they did attack. I daresay my spells did more to win this beachhead than any number of his sword-swingers – himself included.
‘The empty pot rings the loudest’ it is said, and it proves itself to be true again in this case. Not a jot of knowledge of any bearing on the matter – even acknowledging he didn’t know my lineage – and yet he felt himself well suited to pontificate and demand, strutting like a rooster about his tiny little henyard. Why, he even has hangers-on to help keep his chest well-puffed. Perhaps they play the hen to his bantam? Was that the reason he only surrounded himself with men?
Bah – and what if they did? It would make no material difference… It could be just as likely that – along with his other prejudices, he was of the ilk that saw women as weaker and less capable in war. Smallness ever surrounds itself with the even smaller, to thus feel the larger. Unicorn bless those men if he ever leads them into a true battle, for they’d surely need divine protection.
Dworkin’s Thin Beard! *I* could probably take him out with my blade, Mage though I be. I fought beside the man whose stolen colors he wears, a member of the King’s personal guard at the foot of Kolvir – and watched him fall under the enemy’s attacks, helpless in the melee to get close enough to do any good in defending him.
I served under Benedict as a Lieutenant at PatternFall in the Courts of Chaos, where this one’s mind would probably crack from the strain of that hellish place, led my cadre through victory and defeat and earned my position in truth as well as name, paying in blood many times over. And after that, for another six long and cruel years I held my post and did what had to be done in the Black Purge, tracking the foe through Arden and into Shadow, throughout the Golden Realm, slaying them wherever we found them – while he was still messing his diapers.
Since then… well it makes no never mind. Suffice it to say he is less than he makes himself out to be, and certainly not enough to even bother oneself with. Why then does he disturb me so? Is it the specter of him ruling the throne one day? Of having to answer to such a one?
Possibly – but I think it is more than that – it is the prevalence of his beliefs among those whom I must deal with upon a regular basis, those I wish to convince and sway to my own views on things. This is the cloth out of which I must make my garment – that which I wish to use as robe of office and armor proof against all dangers. Am I mad?
But it goes deeper still, doesn’t it? Oh aye – now we get to the rub – and rub it does, grating over and over across an already open and bloody sore, one often scabbed over but never healed. ‘I’ am not of the Blood; not proven to be of the Royal Family; not blessed with that invisible seal of approval which only walking that damned fiery sigil in the catacombs will bring. It must be bad, for one so insignificant as this to bring this rushing up from my depths to fill my head with such a heady mixture of fear and anticipation… Yes – this in truth has nothing whatsoever to do with that insulting prattling brat.
It comes to this, something that I can only admit to myself, in the depths of my own soul; never to be shared with anyone… along with so much else, it will sit on the shelves of that dark chamber where I keep my most private of secrets. Yet, the first and most important law of magic is this, “Know Thyself”, so I must be honest with myself if none other.
It is valid as a stricture, even at the level of Amberite Magical workings, though it is a necessity for mundanes. Only with clear self-knowledge can you know your limits; only by identifying your weaknesses can you shore them up and lay your defenses appropriately, lest you be blind-sided.
Well, for me, it is the need for acceptance, for respect, for those who are deemed my peers and even superiors in some regard; to look at me as an equal, to treat with me as an equal, to ask for my thoughts and opinions and respect them as they would their own. Brennus’ behavior is not all that unusual, though he is perhaps an extreme example of it.
And it seems that in Amber, there is only one way to get it what I wish – I must walk the Pattern. Also, it seems from bits I have recently gleaned from Dworkin’s writings, that my blood will itself be more powerful once I have attuned it to the Pattern’s energies, so I now have additional reasons to do so.
So – Perhaps it is time for me to once again assay the Pattern. If so, it will not be in Amber, for all to know of it - nor can it be in Rebma, for this place is barred to me. No – it must be in the Sky city, the place of dreams and of prophesies, the Realm of the Possible. This requires some lengthy planning, for I’ll not go in unprepared to such a place, with so much riding upon my success. First, I must have my fastness, the tower I have seen in my mind’s eye. Then, I shall wrest the head of my demonic Chaosian enemy to serve me in truth – make him my bound and unwilling ally in the preparation for this trial.
Ah, if only I had not tried so soon, so young, to do it. I’d not have those fever-ridden nightmares of blood and fire floating in the water’s of my homeland, of that blasted sign of power lifting up off of the floor and entwining me in its clutches, of that dark and shadowed whirlpool of nothingness – powerful nothingness – coming into being above my head as a stood swaying only three steps into the Pattern.
If Llewella had not sensed it, had not come down, stepped out onto the Pattern herself and then trumped us both out, I’d be dead. Then it was the need to prove myself to my peers, the search for acceptance, just as it is today, that drove me to it. This time though, I shall be prepared. If that puppy Brennus can do it, then so can I.
Of course I shall lay the groundwork, spend decades if I must, to ensure I am prepared for the trial, unlike my previous spontaneous attempt. A Magus learns patience, among many, many other things, over the course of the long years of training. The lack of it is what led to my first student and first love Dania’s death – at the hands of Julian. I’d told her to wait, to take her time, even begged her to spend more time in study and less in practice, but she would not, maybe even could not listen.
I trust Llewella’s belief that I am the spawn of one of her reprobate brethren… how not? Where else could all of this power have come from but that odd bloodline, blessed with so much and cursed with so little caring or understanding for what they have?
To this day I cannot understand why so few took advantage of Dworkin when he was there – of the knowledge he held in his littlest finger which surpasses all that the rest of them can even imagine, even conceptualize... of those who did, we have three; the traitor, the rebel, and the fled. That odd redheaded cabal of siblings, for whom, I’ll grant, what knowledge they gained seems to have done little good for them.
Well then first I must gather my materials – and I know just how to go about that… In fact, I think it would be a good time to take care of a bit of unfinished business amongst my students and kill a number of birds with one or two well-placed stones… I shall have to speak to the Queen about my plans, apprise her of what is to come, and maybe grab Merlin’s ear as well and bend it a bit – perhaps I’ll see if I can’t get a bit of an edge on this sibling of his.
I need to find a way to deal with him without swatting him like the annoying insect he is doing such a good imitation of. Though I’d derive much satisfaction from it, it would be bad for my relations with his mother at the least… and no doubt Benedict wouldn’t appreciate it much either – still, Caine at least would enjoy it – whether or not he actually admitted it…
But… before any of that, comes the staff meeting – where with any luck I’ll meet up with the pup again. With his pack of tail-sniffers and boot-lickers. Wearing the colors of a dead King, whose boots he does not look even remotely ready to fill. I wonder if I can take Benedict or Caine aside and see what they have to say about how to handle this … this – child in our midst.
He is hardly a soldier, much as he may pretend and posture and pose. He is a danger to those around him, those he serves and those he – Unicorn forefend – commands. I am sure that Benedict knows what he is doing, but I am going to need a bit of guidance from him on how he wants me to handle this potentially sticky situation that has arisen between myself and his protégé.
It must be addressed and nipped in the bud, this potential seed of dissension among those of us who are his cadre, lest it grow to the point where it adversely affects the campaign. I can be trusted to keep my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself, but it does not look good for one of the Command staff to berate the other in public, in front of any of the troops, toadies or not.
Further, if he attempts something along these lines in an actual command council meeting, it begins to have an affect upon the way the others among the leadership view both myself and Brennus, and in war you must have an unthinking mutual respect for those you are working with, whom you have to trust with your back. You don’t have to like them, but you do have to be able to trust them to perform their mission.
Now, I have known these men and women of Benedict’s cadre, have fought under and with them, for two-score years, have proven myself in their own ranks, with nothing but my own blade to protect me. I’d like to think that they respect me as a professional, as one of them – and that their assessment of the lad would equal my own, but this too is bad, for to let a would-be Leader and potential heir to the throne show himself to be a fool in front of those he must one day lead is never good.
As I made my way to my tent, I thought back over the altercation I'd had with the young Prince; Could it be that in some way I was committing a breach in military protocol - Was 'I' out of line? Or, as I suspected, were we both relatively within our rights - and it was simply our personalities that clashed, setting off sparks? First of all, I hadn’t recognized him as an officer initially, as he wasn’t dressed in the standard military uniform of Amber; However, on the other hand, that armor was clearly a special-order and so there was the possibility that he might be an officer, in which case I might have been a little out of line – going by the book.
As he was engaged in commanding and organizing troops when I encountered him, it was more than likely that he had some official role, and a case could be made that I was on dubious ground here. To my view, Brennus was quite a bit out of line as well – I’ve never been hailed in such a way by any member of Amber’s military – but I am realistic enough about the situation at Court to know it is not all that certain that anyone would care, because of who he is.
It is possible that my instinctive treatment of a family member of his youth and inexperience, in a more familiar manner was less than ‘proper’ by court standards, but it is how I talk to his brother after all. True, just because Merlin accords me that closeness, it doesn't mean that I expect the same from others in the Family. However, in general I tend to get a good deal of respect from many of the Elders; either due to my connections with Llewella, or – as I hope - because of my service record.
So, I suppose it is likely that we were both within your rights. On the plus side, Brennus would likely lose a good bit of face by complaining about me to our superiors. Putting this train of thought aside for the nonce, I focused on my next project. Having taken a feather of the bird I sent after Brennus, I continued on my way to my own personal tent – one with a guard set to watch it, so that I would not be disturbed. I didn’t know if it was Benedict’s usual standing orders or if in this case it was Caine who placed the guard there – nor did I care. It was as it should be and that was enough.
My instructions to my Raven had been to follow but remain unseen - mingling with the countless others of its kind - and to stay in Brennus’ general vicinity until further notice. At that distance I’d be able to see what he did, but unable to hear what he said unless he was being quite loud. However, unwilling as I was to make unnecessary waves with this new scion of the Queen, I deemed it the safest compromise at this point. I looked up, realizing I'd stopped because I was standing in front of my tent, nodded to the guard, and entered.
The spell itself only took me ten minutes, since I had the bird’s feather to use as a link. As it was the shorter version, it did require some concentration to maintain, but all I really had to do was sit in the tent and focus my mind. It wasn’t in any way strenuous once the spell was cast, but if I stood up and moved around, the spell would break, as I had drawn a circle about myself that must needs remain unbroken for the duration of the spell.
At this level it was just a passive link I was maintaining with the bird, unless and until I/it/we saw something of interest… A more permanent, mobile version of the spell was possible, of course, but it took upwards of an hour to cast. This I generally reserved for field work and combat situations, using my birds to help me in specifically targeting and timing my spells.
I knew there was a command briefing soon, and did not wish to miss it, but rather – as was always my wont, to be there early. Still, I judged I had the time to do this and satisfy my curiosity some. The spell cast, I saw…
Brennus going about the battle site gathering troops and talking to officers. He appeared to be doing his job, nothing unusual. After a bit he had a good number of troops gathered together. One of his assistants began what looked like a roll-call, followed by some paperwork. While this was going on, Brennus pulled out a trump card. It took me a moment to bring the bird around to an angle from which it could get the card in sight, but I could finally see that it depicted Benedict.
The conversation was brief, and due to my caution, inaudible. If it wasn't for all the commotion on the battlefield, the bird would probably have been able to pick up what was being said. In addition, it appeared that Brennus was being relatively quiet. I saw him end it, and thought he looked a little uncertain about something, but then he quickly returned to his former demeanor.
I ended the link, making sure to re-emphasize that I wished the bird to remain within eyesight of Brennus until further notice, for the time for the command briefing was coming up soon. Placing the feather into one of my many interior pockets (sewn into my gear for just such a reason), I gathered a few things up that I thought might be of use in the coming briefing and made my way to the command tent, nodding my thanks to the guard placed outside my own on the way out, saying…
“I appreciate you being here – orders or no orders. When do you end your post?”
The guard shifted uncomfortably as he spoke.
"My shift ends in an hour, sir, but somebody else should be coming to replace me. We'll keep watch on your tent until we move out to the next location. Don't worry, sir - nobody will disturb your, uh, work, sir."
There was a bit more sweat on the guard's tan brow than one would expect in this weather, but my presence often seemed to bring out a nervous reaction in people. Realizing this effect I and my work had on the regulars, and as always, trying to dispel – or at least allay somewhat – their fear of both as much as possible, I nodded, reached into my cloak and pulled out a small pouch of coppers with a silver or so mixed in (approximately a week’s salary for a guard of his station) and handed it to him, saying…
“Well, when you get back to civilization, I’d appreciate it if you’d treat a few of your fellows to a tankard or so – on me. Drink the health of Benedict and Caine and the Queen, and while you’re at it, let the fellows know that I am well aware of how important you are to what I do. There is no way I could have softened up the enemy for Caine’s attack without my guards.”
The guard looked at the pouch, feeling the weight of the coins and the jiggle as he shifted them in his palm.
"I don't know, sir, I...",
It appeared as though this man might have been chosen for his position because of his rigidity regarding regulations. I seriously hoped that he wouldn’t see this as in any way conflicting with his orders or the proper behavior fitting a soldier – and thankfully, whatever doubts he did have about the money seemed to vanish.
"Thank you, sir. For the Queen; for Amber."
The man's stance seemed to have straightened even more, if that were possible. Relieved, though I wouldn’t dream of showing it, I responded…
"That's right - it is always important to remember why we are here, whose hands we are, whose wishes we obey. Nice to see we are of a like mind. Be well."
I nodded my farewell to him and walked off towards the meeting. The briefing with Caine was scheduled to begin in a few minutes, within a room on the upper levels of the newly conquered fort. The fort itself was in quite a mess, with our forces still clearing it out as I – and the rest of the command no doubt – made our respective ways there. Broken furniture, blood, and other remains of the battle filled the hallways. Outside the new command center, two guards stood watch, silently observing all that passed by.
I turned a corner and almost collided with Brennus, right outside the room where we were to meet. He had some papers in hand, and on seeing me he stopped short, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before – his face becoming what he no doubt thought to be impassive, he gave a short bow and spoke, a touch of a mocking smile now in his eyes. How could he have survived this long at Court and be so transparent in his feelings? Ah well – I should be thankful I did not have the job of training him to the leash.
"After you... Master Mordred? Your pardon if I have used a title which is in any way incorrect or insulting to you, had we been properly introduced I would of course have used a more precise nomenclature."
Oh Capital. Now he was going to try simultaneously to be extremely proper – and at the same time try to infer that it was somehow my failing that we were not properly introduced? I wonder what his reaction would have been if an officious young pup had accosted him the way he did me – while in the course of my duties. Mentally I shook my head, while my mouth made the appropriate response…
"Master is appropriate, as is Magister or Magus. You may take your pick of them if you wish. Benedict and Caine have taken to referring to me simply - either by name or by title; Mordred or Magus."
I sketched a brief but elaborate bow, splitting the difference between courtly and military, then continued...
"However, I do believe proper protocol at this juncture would say that Royalty or Nobility should precede 'Specialist'. Please - after you, Prince Brennus."
If he was paying attention, or had the wit to notice, there was such a noticeable lack of mockery or sarcasm in my voice or manner or expression that it was clearly intentional. Brennus could read that as he liked. Certainly if he decided to become ‘offended’ once again at my manner with him, there’d be no excuse given him by me. Of course I did not put it past him to fabricate practically anything whole-cloth from his own preconceptions and prejudices. I suppose we would just have to see how he handled himself.
Brennus raised his eyebrows in surprise at my ‘change in manner’ and returned a formal bow.
"Why, thank you Magus."
He frowned, appeared as if he were about to speak again, but apparently thought better of it. He gave a nod and a small smile before entering. Unicorn Bless him, this Princeling knew nothing of politics – he was a babe in the woods. Taking me at face value, after what we had just been through? Well perhaps it was his natural arrogance that was at the root of this, causing him to assume I had ‘seen the error of my ways’ or some such. Fah! I had no time or patience for it any longer. I’d remain civil and cordial and let him do as and think as he would. There were more important things to be dealt with, and I’d spent more time and energy on this than it needed.
I gave a small nod of acknowledgement, my expression bland as could be, then followed Brennus into the meeting. Foremost in my mind was a question I hoped to soon have answered; What did Caine – and Benedict as well – think of my work here this past month, particularly the portion that coincided with the navy’s arrival? I was doing my utmost to prove the utility and value of my magics, and wished to be sure I had done the best that could be done. Much of it I had had to ‘wing’ - as I was here ahead of the main force and had been working under relayed orders for the most part, so my information hadn’t been the most specific or up-to-date. Of course if they had seen fit to give me a trump – like the puppy had, it would have been easier, but that was their decision to make, not mine.
I followed the Princeling into the briefing room. In the center of the room was a large wooden table. One of the legs appeared to have been damaged, and several old books were now supporting the shorter leg. A large map of Corraline was spread out across the surface, with numerous pins and figures arrayed across it. Leaning on a chair in the back of the room was a large portrait of dubious beauty but clear age. The subject was a young lady, dressed in clothing that was probably fashionable centuries ago. She was probably lovely, but the artist seemed to have captured some other quality of her - a darker, more sadistic look - and had translated it into the portrait as to make her look almost monstrous. It drew my gaze…
Several officers were in the room, mostly talking to each other, but a few were examining the map. Caine, not in uniform, was examining the painting. Dressed as he was, with the look of a common sailor, one would hardly think him an admiral. There was however a charm, handsomeness, and attitude that clearly showed him to be different from those about him. It was the mantle of the Amberite Royals, indescribable and undeniable. My eyes at once sought out Caine, lingered again on the painting he was looking at, then back to him, waiting for the Admiral to turn and begin, almost willing him to.
His devilish smile was wiped away, when Brennus and I entered.
"No problems with your assignment, I trust?" he said, looking at Brennus inquisitively.
At Caine's words to Brennus, my bearing shifted - ever so slightly - to that of a soldier who knows it was his place to wait, patiently, in readiness, for his commander to have a moment for him. During the next period, though I was aware of the conversation around me, I remained in 'waiting mode', and gave the vast majority of my attention to the painting and its subject. My time would come.
The beginnings of a smile evaporated from Brennus' face in response to Caine's question and the change in his demeanour. He stepped forward, giving the correct military salutation, precise in its execution. Standing to attention he responded.
"Nothing I couldn't handle, thank you Admiral."
Brennus placed his papers on the table.
"My reports for you sir; when you need them."
He then stepped back to wait.
Caine took the papers, with a nod, and quickly flipped through them, glancing at the summary figures for the wounded and dead.
"Impressive," he whistled.
"These figures are even better than we anticipated. I suppose some of the credit goes to you, Magus."
His eyes came to me, reappraising.
"The Queen was right about the potency of your magic. I'll see that she is notified of your efforts. Plenty of room for improvement though, but an excellent first showing."
It appeared that the last of the officers had entered the room, as he spoke again.
"Alright, I'll try to keep this short. I know the men are tired, but we've going to push, strike them before they have a chance to strengthen their defenses. Lord Delany, you'll stay here with a small force to hold the fort, while the main force breaks into two parts."
Caine described the plan in depth. Lord Chantris would take half of the force and march through Corraline, eventually meeting up with Benedict. Caine would take the remainder of the force and continue to sail along the coast and intercept a portion of the Corraline fleet that had recently set sail from the capital. Addressing Brennus, Caine grinned.
"Prince, Benedict wants you to accompany Lord Chantris and his forces. Chantris, you should move out immediately. We're already running a little behind schedule. The fleet will depart first thing in the morning. That seems to be everything. Any questions?"
Brennus’ stance and demeanour remained unchanged, although he'd allowed himself a brief smile and an incline of his head in response to Caine's orders.
There were one or two minor questions from some of the officers in the room, but no major inquiries. Caine didn’t seem at all annoyed by the questions, and in fact seemed like he was expecting them. I noticed Brennus waited in silence, listening for any questions from anyone present. I in turn listened carefully to all that was said, noticed Caine's lack of directive for me, and says nothing - If and when he had something to say to me, he would do so. There was never any point and nothing whatsoever to be gained in pushing an Elder - particularly this one... I continued to stand, at ease - again splitting the difference between military and civilian 'specialist' in his bearing and demeanor. By now I knew the painting so well I could almost duplicate it myself, brushstroke for brushstroke.
After everyone was done, Caine smiled.
"Very well. You're all dismissed. We've lots to do, and not much time."
The officers begin to leave. I had waited until the last person started for the door, then mentally shrugged, and begun to follow them, figuring Caine would get to it in his own time, when the Admiral spoke again, taking a seat…
"Mordred, wait for a moment. There are a few... details we need to discuss."
His words of course stopped me from leaving. Not showing the relief I felt inside, I allowed the door to shut behind the last person out and turned to face my erstwhile commander, though not before I heard an exchange in the hallway, between Brennus and Lord Chantris…
"Lord Chantris?"
"Prince Brennus, may I assist you in any way?"
Brennus answered, his tone respectful, formal.
"My Lord, might I request a word with you?"
"Of course. Shall we?" Chantris asks.
The door closed as they moved away down the hallway together…
As the Door closed on Brennus and Lord Chantris, I responded to Caine’s words…
"Of course, Admiral. I would welcome any and all feedback you might have. Grateful as I am for your kind words earlier regarding my efforts, the concept of 'War Magics' is still new and I am still feeling my way about. Anything you can add to take some of the guess-work out of it would be wonderful."
Caine walked around the table, opposite where I was standing, and hefted a small case from the ground onto the table. He broke the case's seal, one which I had seen throughout the fortress, and opened it, revealing a few bottles of wine. He chose one dusty bottle, took a few glasses from elsewhere, and began to open the bottle as he spoke.
"You did good work, but I feel that the true potential of your magics has yet to be harnessed. As I understand it, you draw the power of your sorcery from the life force of yourself and others. There are many who you could have used, even corpses of the enemy, yet you limited yourself to what power your own blood could bring. Why?"
His manner was casual and friendly, and I could feel my guard slipping slightly. As soon as I realize this, I firmed it up, absolutely determined to stay focused through this interview, which was looking to take more than a few quick minutes. I smiled though, nodding my appreciation of gesture he was making in sharing the wine with me. It had not escaped me that none of the others were invited to have a drink with our commander. What that meant, what he was trying to say with it and why he was trying to say it were all questions that begged to be answered. Answering him, I said…
"Well, between you and I, it is absolutely true that I am holding back in this area, but I am fighting a serious uphill battle against public perception with my 'Art'. I want it to be accepted as something worthy, as a boon rather than a bane to society. So, if there is ever even the slightest chance that I might have an observer, I use no other source than myself and those few 'stored' materials I have managed to bring with me."
I paused, then looked at him with a mildly speculative air. No more than that would be necessary with this one…
"Theoretically speaking, if I were to be asked to take care of a larger-scale project, one in which it was necessary for me to be temporarily separated from the troops, say a 'fact-finding' mission of some sort... Well, it is of course conceivable that in those circumstances I might be forced to make do with what was available to me - regardless of the 'morality' involved. War is War after all..."
Caine smiled, handing me a glass of the wine.
"An admirable goal, but there is no need for such cares around me. I just want to make sure that you are serving Amber as best you can."
He took a gentle sip from the glass of wine in his hand.
"An absolute treasure," he whispered to himself.
"There be need of some of those larger-scale projects at some point, but I'd prefer to utilize your talents in other ways." He paused, looking at the map in front of him.
"It is essential that we find the Corraline fleet as quickly as possible. Our sources on the matter are less than specific though. What we need is better intelligence of their fleet movements, but nobody on the shore seems to know where the fleet exactly is. That's where you come in."
Caine paused, taking another sip from the wine. He seemed to be taking his time savoring the flavor - giving me ample opportunity to speak. I nodded as I listened to his words, took the glass from him and swirled the liquid gently about, then sipped the wine, holding it in my mouth to get the full effect of the vintage. Opening my eyes, I swallowed and leaned forward slightly, saying...
"First, thank you for this. It is exquisite. I really must put some more thought into my idea of a vineyard in Amber."
"Its the last bottle from the Cordelino winery. There were only a few to begin with. I believe this one bottle could buy three of Corraline's finest vessels... maybe more." Caine gave a grin.
"Not anymore though," he took a long drink of wine, emptying his glass.
I gave my wine a bit more attention, making sure I savored every bit of it, sipping again at my glass. It was truly a complex wine, one worthy of further study, but this might very well be my only glass of it.
"I am honored, and what a shame it is that Cordelino will bring us no more of this."
Taking another small swallow of my own, I placed the glass down and continued...
"I am of course completely at your disposal in this matter. I would welcome a chance to see how my full-scale reconnaissance spell works in field conditions. I would need some time to get it started, perhaps a day all told; then I'd be able to move about more, albeit unable to engage in anything as demanding of my attention such as horsemanship or combat; further, in order to be able to take full advantage of all resources available to me,"
Here I gave him a glance...
"I would need to have as my personal guard those whom you yourself have vetted as being completely trustworthy and discreet, regarding any less-than-savory actions I might need to take for the good of the realm. The last thing I think we need is for the common troops to start avoiding me and making hex signs behind my back. They should come to see me as a member of the chain of command, an officer much like young Brennus, who just happens to have other talents as well."
Taking up my wine glass again, I leaned back into my chair slightly and said...
"Does this meet with your approval? Is there anything I have left out?"
The Admiral nodded his head.
"I'll see you get an armed escort if you like - your place shouldn't be on the field of battle in any case. I have several men whose consciences can be found in their purses and," he adds after a pause of thought, "and their loyalty to the Crown. You can work your magics at sea? The fleet is always on the move and I want first hand intelligence from you. I can give you a large suite to yourself, for your... work. Any supplies you require can be discretely brought aboard. Tell me, how do you purpose to find such a small fleet in such a large sea?"
Thinking for a moment, I replied...
"At sea would be excellent, provided the weather stays relatively clement. Even if not, I expect I'll be fine, so long as we do not enter a 'Mother-Storm'.”
I assured myself that Caine probably knew that this was how the biggest and most dangerous storms were referred to by Rebmans – It had often caught my attention at odd moments that there was a very diffuse but all-encompassing underlying structure of referring to the Sea-as-Mother/Goddess in Rebman thought. Interesting as it was to me, I wondered if I’d ever have the time to get around to looking into it further.
“Your offer of materials is most appreciated - I shall see what it is I'll need and get that information to you as soon as possible."
Taking from my belt pouch a folded up map and spreading it out on the table, I took a somewhat larger swig of the wine, indulging myself in its pleasures and bringing the level down to almost empty, then laid the map flat between us, atop the one he’d been using before...
"This is the map I was provided by your people when planning the Beachhead, and should serve our purposes sufficiently for this as well, unless you have a better one. First, I'd like to get from your people whatever information they do have, regarding when the fleet was last seen, where, and their heading at that time - even prevailing winds and other weather considerations would be helpful. Given my childhood, I am 'tolerably' good at figuring the many contributing factors of sea travel..."
I grinned slightly at this, but continued...
"Then, it is a matter of devising a graph, a means of cordoning off the area into quadrants that can be searched systematically without letting any one area go un-observed. I do have airborne resources, a small but growing flock of Ravens at my command, through whose eyes and ears I can observe, though they are somewhat limited in number. Still, with my mind and will fueling their search, it should not take long. Perhaps you could free up a scout vessel or so as well? If not, no problem, but if so, they could be sent to cover some of the borders, the interstitial areas between quadrants, so that I can broaden the parameters of my search pattern..."
At this, I looked up at Caine, then leaned slightly back and picked up my glass - finishing the last bit of wine in it, letting the Admiral decide upon his response.
He had smiled when I mentioned the storm, so I was not surprised at Caine’s next words…
"I can guarantee that the weather will not be the problem. At least not at this juncture. I want to hold all of our ships together. If they see a scout, they'll know we are upon them, and the scout probably won't be able to outrun the ships of Corraline. Upon all the seas, there are no finer vessels."
His admiration for the Corraline navy was clear. I found myself forced to reconsider whether the Admiral really considered three of their ships equal to one bottle of wine. On the other hand, it was really quite fine, not to mention all but extinct, which knowledge did lend a bitter-sweet tang to it. I suddenly got the feeling that much of what surrounded this man, like the wine, and the painting, had hidden depths, multiple layers of complexity, and a scent of impending doom and tragedy. Caine continued…
"All you need do is locate them - then I'll close the net and scoop them up." He moved his hand as if gently cupping water from the map, before speaking again...
"We'll brief you on the last bits of intelligence on the boat. Get your list ready, and I'll see whatever parts you require are delivered. Jacob will assist you."
Caine opened the door, and said something to the guard there, who went off in search of Jacob. He then poured the last of the wine into the two glasses, and said...
"Let the hunt begin."
I nodded, relieved by Caine’s remark concerning the weather. It would be a little harder without the ships, might take a bit longer, but could still be done. I then took a scrap of parchment from my pouch and scrawled a few brief lines on it, then set it to the side, to be given to Jacob when he arrived. Taking the newly re-filled glass from Caine, I stood, clinked my glass against my elder’s and drank deeply…
“To our success, their defeat, and fine wine. I’ll loose my ‘dogs’ a day’s time after we set sail.”