Holtsclaw, page 10
part #3 of The Master Mage Chronicles Series
At the stroke of mid-day Marcus entered the royal grounds. He was immediately challenged by two men of the king’s guard, both officers. When he told them his name, they were prompt to say he was expected. They were at the gate specifically to escort him to the Princess. It was obvious they held her in high regard. “She’s beautiful for sure, but swings a mean blade,” said the younger of the two. “So you be minding your manners with her, lest you be losing a hand, or somethin’ worse.” The last he said with a chuckle, echoed by his companion.
The only word that came to mind, as they passed through the castle, was ‘grand’. The castle at Alexa was, by all accounts, beautiful. But it was dull in comparison to the castle of the ancient kingdom of Tumano. There were walls of polished stone, floors of the same, great wooden-paneled hallways, thick carpets underfoot, and majestic tapestries.
Marcus was shown to a small, private dining room. Moriah was seated with a fellow about Marcus’ height, but somewhat thinner. His resemblance to Moriah was remarkable.
She rose. “Marcus, by brother Winston, Crown Prince and heir to the throne. Winston, Mage Marcus, heir to the title of Lord High-mage to the King of Iber.”
Winston rose, shook hands with Marcus, then together they sat. “So, my sister has been telling me about Holtsclaw. She’s the first of the family to go for some turns, you know. The rest of us, well, my brother and I, apparently have no gift at all. We can’t even light a candle!” He said it with a laugh. He pointed to Moriah. “But she makes up for us all, wouldn’t you say?”
Marcus agreed enthusiastically. “You know her endowment?”
“You mean as a battle-mage? Sure, we all know that.”
“Well, I have endowment in the same, as a secondary strength. I have never seen her equal. I can sometimes beat her, but she knows it’s only when I cheat.”
Winston wore a surprised look and turned to Moriah. “He says he cheats. Is that so? Or is he making excuses for you?”
“Oh, he cheats all right. Then he brags about it. To me at least. He can be a total rascal at times.”
“I think we all would like to see you two go at each other, see if we can find out how he cheats. Who knows, might make us better blades-men as well. I don’t mind a little cheating now and then, if it helps me win!”
“Ahh,” said Marcus. “A man with a heart as black as mine!”
They laughed as the food was served. It was roast duck, cooked to absolute perfection. Moriah was right, Winston was pleasant company.
All too soon the food was eaten and dishes cleared away. “Well,” said Moriah in a resigned voice, “I suppose it’s time to meet the folks. Are you ready, Marcus? Winston, are you willing to put in a good word for him if it becomes necessary?”
“Sister Moriah, any man who can even occasionally best you with a long blade, fairly or by cheating, has my approval!”
Winston led the way to the throne room, followed by Moriah and Marcus walking side-by-side. She was dressed in a beautiful light-blue satin gown, slender in design, but obviously cut with an expert eye. Marcus could not help but feel under-dressed, though the tailor had reassured him repeatedly that he would be finely dressed by court standards. It was just that she was so beautiful in that gown! He forced his attention back to the dais and thrones where the King and Queen of Tomano were regally seated.
Winston made the introductions. “Father, Mother, your majesties. Your daughter, Moriah, and a special friend, Marcus Aurelius, heir to the position of Lord High-mage to the King of Iber.” He stepped aside; Moriah and Marcus advanced and knelt before the two thrones, eyes respectfully down-cast.
“Arise, Moriah, arise Mage Marcus. Or do I have to wait until you’ve graduated from Holtsclaw to call you mages. Ah, who cares. So tell me Mage Marcus. Just how special of a friend are you with our daughter?”
Marcus: Well, here goes. Wish me luck. “Your majesty, your daughter and I share all of our classes. She, with her battle-mage endowment and training, and I as a master blades-man with training experience, have been asked to instruct other interns at the Academy. From that a friendship has developed. She has spoken so often of her home and family, and with such longing, I could hardly refuse this invitation to come, see and meet.”
“And did you travel with her, in her carriage?”
“No, your majesty. I came my own way. We agreed it would have been inappropriate to be seen traveling together. If there is any question, she traveled with her friend and fellow student, Corinne Farnor.”
The Queen finally spoke. “Thank you for being so considerate. Though I must admit, I would have expected no less from Moriah. She has been thoroughly taught in royal protocol. Right, Moriah?”
“Most certainly, Mother. Marcus also grew up in the royal court. He is equally aware of royal proprieties. And abides them. We have discussed this several times.”
“Well, that is certainly good to hear. Too many of our young men are like those sea creatures with eight arms, always wanting to put hands where they don’t belong!”
“Mother!” exclaimed Winston. “Not in front of our guest!”
“Quiet, son. I’m your Queen. And your mother. I’ll say what I want to say. And when I want to say it. Do you agree, Mage Marcus?”
“Yes, your majesty, on all counts. And my hands will always be in a safe place, especially when she holds a long-blade. Or if there is one within her reach.”
The King let out an uproarious laugh. “Now here’s a young man with the wisdom of one much older! By the way, are you not a bit old to be entering the Academy as a first turn?”
“Father, it will surprise you to know we are exactly of the same age! And by exactly, I mean turn, turning, seventh-day and day.”
“Amazing. But you look so much older. Why is that?”
“Something I have been asked before. All I can say is that I was early grown and large for my age. And I believe my travels have matured me before my time.”
“Your travels?” asked the Queen. “I would hear more of this.”
“Yes, your Majesty. Iber is a distant Kingdom, an Island Kingdom west of Caldonia across the Betting Sea.”
She interrupted, addressing the King. “Do you know of this Kingdom of Iber?”
The King grunted. “Heard of it, of course. It’s what, two hand-fists from here? And across the Betting Sea, as you say.”
“Yes, your majesty, correct on both counts. I traveled entirely by foot or horseback to reach the Academy. It took all of four turnings, a full turn. Such a trip has a way of aging a person, be he youth or man full grown.”
“And you traveled alone, the entire way?” asked the Queen.
“Yes, but I had three friends most of the way,” Marcus said with a chuckle. “A horse, a mule and a hound. Quite frankly, they were better friends and companions than anyone else I met on the way. I only treasure the friendship of your daughter above theirs.”
Again the King gave a hearty laugh. “I think I like you, Mage Marcus. I believe it would take a man such as yourself to match wit and blade with our daughter. I assume you spar often, in your classes?”
“Yes, your Majesty, we do. Not in competition, though. Only for training purposes. We are particularly adept at blade-dancing together.”
“Blade-dancing? What is that?” asked the Queen.
“Blade-dancing?” said the King. “I’ve only seen it once. And that was many turns ago.” He turned to Moriah. “Would you be willing to blade dance for us? If you’re as good as the ones I once saw, it would be quite the spectacle.”
Moria: What have you just done? You want us to blade-dance, here, in front of my parents?
Marcus: Sorry, that just slipped out. But it sounds like fun. Especially if we use real steel.
Moriah gasped.
“Something wrong, daughter?” asked the Queen.
“Oh, no, your Majesty. It’s just that the idea of blade-dancing, before you and Father, caught me by surprise.” She shot a wicked glance at Marcus. “Of course, at the Academy we use wooden training blades. Here we would want to dance with steel. Should we plan on it for this evening after last meal?”
Marcus: You are a wicked, wicked girl.
They were dismissed by the King and Queen, having other matters of court to attend. But they agreed to a family late-meal with blade-dancing to follow.
Marcus: I should probably change, but I don’t have anything appropriate for a royal blade-dance.
Moriah: Nothing wrong with what you’re wearing. Take off the outer jacket and you have trousers and a rope-weed shirt. As for me, I might blade dance in what I’m wearing now.
Marcus: What? In that beautiful gown? You must be crazy!
Moriah: Marcus, it’s just a simple gown. My arms and feet are free to move. What else matters? Stay with Winston. I have to go round up some long-blades. Hah! Real ones this time. Can’t wait! Would you mind if I invited Corinne?
It was well before last-meal. Winston took Marcus on an extensive tour of the castle and its grounds.
“Someday, I suppose, this will all be mine. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, though. But I know my place.” He sighed. “Tell me about you and Moriah. What’s really going on between the two of you? I’ve known her all my life, well, actually all her life, since I’m nearly a hand older. And I’ve never seen her look twice at any young man. But she looks constantly at you. And in a very serious way.”
“Winston, we are very good friends. If you are asking if there’s more, I suppose there could be, in time. But she is royal, and I am not. What would be your parents’ reaction if there were, say, a serious relationship to develop?”
“Tough question, that one. My parents are certainly favorably impressed. You handled yourself well. But daughters are royal chattel. You know that as well as I. Her bride’s price would be substantial, in both coin and political advantage.”
“Sounds very insensitive to me. What about her feelings in the matter?”
“Oh, they matter to a degree,” he said sadly. “But ultimately, I suppose, they don’t matter that much. They won’t marry her to a rogue.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Unless he be a very rich and very powerful one!”
“A rich and powerful rogue.? Well that’s more encouraging than I thought! Perhaps I have a chance with her after all!” They both laughed. It was time for last-meal.
Again, the meal was incredible. Fit for a …. king? Oh, but that’s who it was served for, after all! The dishes were finally cleared away.
The King pushed himself from the table and clapped his hands. “Well now, time for some entertainment, right children?” He turned to other family members. “What say we go to one of the smaller ballrooms to give our dancers space to do their work.”
Two servants entered the ballroom, bearing four beautiful long-blades on an embroidered cushion. Marcus took a matched pair, the larger of the two, and made several practiced swings. They balanced perfectly.
Moriah was no longer dressed in the delicate light-blue gown. She had changed into a more practical sleeveless, dark-red shift ending slightly below her knees. She was no less beautiful than before, but certainly more deadly looking.
Moriah saw him admiring. “Hides the blood better, if you get lucky. You, on the other hand, every cut I make is going to show.” The family laughed. Are you ready? Any tips about using steel instead of wooden blades.
Marcus: Yes, be careful. Start slow. It will be okay once we get the rhythm. I will slow time to match your every move.
They touched blades and went through the four-hand and two tai kai movements in a leisurely manner, touching blades at the appropriate times. Ringing steel was familiar to Marcus from his dances with Katrina. He could see Moriah making the necessary mental adjustments. The second and third passes increased in speed.
Marcus: Now relax and flow from move to move. That’s it, just keep flowing. Don’t worry about the blades, just worry about the dance. Trust. You will not strike me, I will not strike you. Just think about the dance.
The blades began to whir, a sound quite different than that made by wooden blades. Faster and faster, until Moriah reached her limit. Stop at the end of this cycle. It is enough.
They stood facing each other and bowed in respect, signaling an end to the dance. They turned and knelt to the King and Queen. Marcus spoke: “Your majesties, the Iberian blade-dance.”
There was silence. Have I offended your parents in some way?
Moriah: I think not. I believe we have overly impressed them. Give them time to respond.
The King finally spoke. “You bring back memories of a blade-dance I saw many turns ago. But it was never at the level I saw here between the two of you, tonight.” He turned to his wife, the Queen. “What say you, my dear?”
“I was terrified the whole time, thinking to see my only daughter injured at every move.” She chuckled, “Of course, she could carve on her friend all she wanted. But I would have had his head if he had touched her with his blade.”
Moira’s two brothers and younger sister sat speechless, in total awe of what they had just witnessed involving their sister and her ‘special friend’ from the Academy.
“Just friends? That I doubt!” said the King. He arose from his chair and helped his wife, the Queen, to her feet. The others arose, waiting until they had left the room. Then everyone, except Marcus and Moriah, began speaking at the same time. They all agreed it was the most incredible display of blade work they had ever seen.
Marcus: What next? I suppose I return to the inn. Then I will be on my way back to Holtsclaw.
Moriah: Sadly, that’s probably the case. There is nothing keeping you here. To remain would beg your reason why. You heard what my father said in parting?
Marcus: Yes. He is very astute. Very observant. And knows enough about blade work to know that what we did tonight went beyond simple skill. He does not know the depth of our attachment, only that it exists. He will have question, about us, before your return to Holtsclaw. And it is best that I be far away when he asks. Will you know what to tell him?
Moriah: Well, certainly not the truth. Not yet anyway. I’ll think of something. Will I see you before the end of the turning? Could you port here, so we can discuss what I should say?
Marcus: Between porting and the control of time, I’m sure I can come and go without detection. But I need a hidden space for porting. And a sure way to find you when I come. What do you suggest?
Moriah: I know of such a place. Come, let me take you there.
Marcus took her hand, suspended time, and walked long halls to an area of the castle she identified as the royal residences. There was a small office at the end of a corridor.
Moriah: This belongs to Winston, but I have never seen him use it. I will come here every seventh-day, at mid-night, and wait for you. I know you can’t come every time. I will be her, waiting, though, in case you can.
Marcus stood in the middle of the room, memorizing every detail. The flooring, the walls with their tapestries, the windows with their drapery, the doors. Even the furniture. Okay, I’m sure I can safely port here. We need to go back to where we started, lest we be missed.
Moriah: There’s still one thing left to do. She put a hand behind his neck, drew him close, and kissed him on the lips. It needed no comment, no explanation. No gift passed between them, but a different kind of power certainly did.
He returned to the inn and advised the inn-keeper he would be leaving at first light. He settled the bill, including charges for the next morning’s first meal.
CHAPTER
SIX
B y late mid-morning, the four of them, he, Max, Wee and Rex, had crossed Cardston and reached the western highway. He had stopped along the way to purchase some dry foods and an even more detailed map of the mainland kingdoms.
The peddlers had asked for help clearing the coastal highways of thieves. The question was time. He was estimating the leagues and days to go there from Cardston, with a return trip to the Academy. It suddenly occurred to him, though, that he could always just port back to Holtsclaw. The location behind the stable, where he had ported with the stable-master’s son Michael, would be a sure destination. And it would be far enough from the Academy, itself, to avoid their anti-porting policy.
Another situation presented itself. He was standing directly over the great river of gift. A new moon was a three-day away. He could either remain here in Cardston or continue traveling directly west. If he traveled west, he could pick up the same road the peddlers had taken. It would take him four seven-days, giving him three seven-days, perhaps four, to clear the roads. He looked again at his map. In small numbers he could see the distances, in leagues, between villages. Yes, he would be able to spend at least two seven-days traveling there, hopefully through the more difficult areas. The peddlers would know where he was most needed.
----- o0o -----
The new moon would align with the sun, by Marcus’ calculations, in the late afternoon a two-day hence. It would be a fifth-day. He continued his travels, his speed dictated by Wee’s methodical plod. There were few distractions, nothing more than the occasional passing of a merchant caravan. And his less frequent over-taking of another. He exhausted his meager supply of dry food and began searching for game. Fortunately, there were rabbits and hares in abundance. He harvested two, one for himself and one for Rex. The hound was content to strip and gulp the meat down, then spend the evening crunching the bones. It was a peaceful sound, except when it conjured up memories of a certain Tunney brother’s torn and lacerated arm.
Fifth-day morning was sunny, but by mid-day the skies had grown grey and rain had begun to fall. Marcus found a meadow next to the highway and stopped for the day. At one time it had been cultivated, but was now abandoned and vacant. A sad-looking rail fence marked its boundaries, many rails missing and posts standing askew. Max and Wee began foraging while he set up camp. Rex ran to and fro in a futile attempt to catch his own meal.
