The Wheelwright's Apprentice (34 page)

53

Earl Damon and Art walked slowly back to Baron Edgurd’s suite. Slowly, because both of their minds were whirling with thoughts of the future, and what Art should do next. Art stopped in a quiet corridor, and told the Earl, “It’s my responsibility. If I am to face him and stop him, I shouldn’t wait until he’s disposed of Queen Faria, and then gone on a killing rampage. I need to be there. He trained me in the hope that I could stop him from devastating whole countries when he succumbed to the power madness. Now that he has, I can’t let him randomly kill people by letting him come to me. I need to go and stop him in Geron City. or wherever their confrontation is going to be.”

Earl Damon leaned against a tapestry. “That’s a brave decision. You’ve never been to Jeerea, have you?” Art shook his head. “So you’ll need someone to flit you into somewhere near. I can take you to Geron City when you’re ready.” The Earl slapped him on the shoulder. “I have a funny feeling that she won’t ride out to meet him.”

Art nodded agreement. “I don’t think so, either. That’ll give me a week from now. There are a couple of things I want to do first.”

“You mean people you want to spend some time with.”

“Of course, Seeing those I love will help me strengthen my Will. I know I’ll need all the motivation I can conjure up to have any sort of chance. Come on; let me explain this all to the Baron. He’ll have to look after his daughter again.

The Baron was not pleased. More than that, he was very concerned that all that seemed to be standing between them and a marauding army led by a madman was an untried youth. Art tried to placate him. “He wants me to kill him. He has been setting this up for a long time. His main aim is to ensure that Galland doesn’t fall apart after his death. He also wants to improve the quality of life in Summerland and Jeerea, both of which could become much better places to live, by taking them over and imposing his ideals. All that will help stabilize the region and help trade.” Art paused to see that he had been understood. He wasn’t sure he had, so he explained. “He has already conquered Summerland, killing only one person. Increased trade between Galland and what will be its two new provinces will bring increased prosperity, which will help Waygand and Toranavia too. He has a grand legacy to protect, and if he kills me instead, it’ll all go terribly wrong.”

The Baron didn’t know what to say, and his daughter Iria was still reevaluating Art, for the second time in an hour. Eventually he managed, l“You’ll kill him then?”

A wide shrug said it before he did. “No idea. He’s set me up so I’ll have a chance, but there are no guarantees.” Their faces fell so he put on a smile that he hoped didn’t look false. “Don’t forget I have faced a ruling adept before and I’m still here. This is what I was born for. I should be fine.” He hoped he wasn’t being truthread as he was lying through his teeth. When he thought about it, he figured they all knew he was lying, but couldn’t accuse him of it.

Iria asked the question he didn’t want to hear. “What happens after you kill him?”

“I’m not looking that far ahead.”

This produced another pall of gloom as they thought he meant he was going to get killed anyway, so why bother. It wasn’t the case. Art was unhappy as he expected to have to work for years sorting out the mess that his father was creating. At least he now had a glimmer of why his father had been training up Vanni.

Enough was enough, his head was hurting. “Please excuse me, I need to think. Iria, you can come back to Furl, or stay here with your father. Good night everyone, I’ve a lot to sort out.” He vanished without waiting for her reply. Once he was back at the inn, he went straight to bed. Although sleep was what he needed, it was a long time coming.

He slept late. Sometimes he found that sleep, as well as that blissful state halfway between waking and sleeping, often helped him find answers that would otherwise elude him. That at least was the excuse he gave himself for having a very late start to his day, as well as not wanting to consciously think. He was surprised when he got up to find Iria in the living room of their suite. She appeared to have gotten up only slightly before him, as breakfast seemed to have only recently arrived. He was slightly apologetic. “Good morning. I suppose it still is morning?” She gave a slow nod, so he followed up with, “I spent a lot of the night wondering what to do.”

“And...?”

“The only thing that’s certain is I have at best a week to work on strengthening my Will.” He sat down at the table with a thump.

“How will you do that? A week isn’t much.”

Art deftly served himself two eggs and a string of tiny sausages. “I can’t do anything big, but I can do a lot of small things. Revisit good memories, recall happy times with friends and remember the people I need to protect.”

“Who are they?” Now that she had Art to question, Iria wasn’t interested in food.

Art was hungry so he made her wait for his answer. “Friends and family, of course. I don’t count my boatload of half brothers as family, although two of them are my friends. My daughter and my girl, they are the most important.” He helped himself to more food as Iria was dumbstruck with the news that he had a daughter. “I’m still suffering from my wonderful father’s manipulations. He was very clever and underhanded. The first real assignment I was given was to be a healer. Not only did the experience teach me how to kill, but it also gave me an ingrained regard for life. Who do I want to protect? He’s made it so my answer is ‘everybody’.”

Iria homed in on the daughter. “Your girlfriend has a baby?”

“No.” He filled his mouth with sausage.

“Then who?”

“My late girlfriend. I would have thouat’s cght that story would have at least circulated amongst the Willed.”

“The one whose death prompted you to take revenge on High Priestess Aravia?”

“Yes, that one. The whole episode took me months to get over. Of course, it did wonders for my Will. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father had her killed opportunely when so many others were killed. It’s just the sort of thing he would do.”

“He never seems to have tried to be a good father, one you might come to love.”

“He never wanted me to love him. I mightn’t be able to kill him if I did. The only thing he’s done really well is to make my Will as strong as possible.”

There was a sharp knock on the door, and it opened before either of them could reply. It was Earl Damon. “Forgive the intrusion, but your father’s plans have changed.”

Art grimaced. “That isn’t a surprise. Would you like some breakfast?”

“There isn’t time for that. Apparently your father can’t be bothered bringing an army to Jeerea. As soon as he has taken loyalty oaths from the Summerland adepts, he’s going straight there with only his own adepts for company. It seems the power madness has made him impatient to kill.”

Art put down his fork. “Where did you get this information?”

“I went to visit Tandrea in Red City earlier today. We had quite a long chat. Your father keeps her up to date all the time, as she is looking after his interests.”

“I see. How long before he confronts Queen Faria?”

“Assuming she doesn’t run away, I’d say before sundown.” He waited a moment before delivering the punch line. Today.”

Art picked up his napkin, wiped his face and said, “I suppose I have some arrangements to make.”

* * *

An hour later, having spent some useful time seeing and playing with his daughter Amica, he materialized in Ellary’s room. She wasn’t there, so he went downstairs and found her in the kitchen. She flew into his arms, oblivious of her parents who were there too. “Good afternoon.” He greeted them. “I am going to borrow Ellary for a while. I can’t really explain what for, but I’ll tell you everything when I bring her back.”

Another hour later, Art adjusted the clothes he had just pulled back on. “Ellary, I want you to be with me for the next few hours.” He sat back on the bed beside her and took her hand. “It’s more than that, I need you. I am going to need all the encouragement I can get. Without you, I might die.”

Ellary produced a wide happy smile. “That’s about the strongest declaration of love I’ve ever heard.” Her smile shrank and vanished as she noticed the taut, serious expression on Art’s face. “You, you mean you...”

“I wish I didn’t, but I mean exactly that. I need you with me, where I can see you and draw strength from you. You and my daughter are the most important people I have, and I can’t very well drag Amica away from her foster parents at her age.” He hugged her close and squeezed her so hard that she had to ask him to ease up. “Please, I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

This last admission prolonged their hug which turned into a longer kiss. She was the one to pull apart. “Of course I’ll go with you,pan>An how could I not?” They hugged again. They were still hugging when they appeared in the arrival room in King Daron’s palace. Leaving the room, Art said, “I have never been where we’re going, Geron City. Someone is going to take us there, like I carried you. My father is going to confront Queen Faria later today.”

Before he had finished, she had collapsed on a settee in one of the halls they had been going through. He had to hold her close for a couple of minutes until she recovered. “Promise me you’ll live.”

“Of course I’m going to live. I have you to live for. In any case this is the final act in my father’s long running play. He’s already written the ending.” Art stood up, holding out his hand, and said, “Think of today as an experience. You will meet lots of interesting people, see new places and be with me.” She took his hand and pulled herself up while he thought, “
Please let everything go right. I’ve been lying to her and putting her at risk. If I get killed, she’ll never forgive me.”

Baron Edgurd was waiting outside the door of his suite. The moment he saw Art, he said, “At last, everyone is waiting for you.” He noticed Ellary.

Art spoke first. “Baron Edgurd, this is my girlfriend, Ellary.”

She was wearing the daytime outfit Art had made for her with the Will. That and a bit of coaching had given her confidence. “A pleasure, Milord Baron.”

They were guided to a room where well over a dozen people, some of whom Art recognized as nobles, were waiting along with the King. They were seated around a long table. Before they had a chance to greet him, the Baron welcomed them and told them to sit next to Earl Damon. As soon as they were seated, the King announced, “Lords and Ladies, I have just had news from my ambassador in Summerland, which confirms news I have from other sources. The Count, Milord Art’s father...” He stopped to indicate Art for those that hadn’t met him. “...isn’t doing what we expected. He is in the process of receiving loyalty oaths from all the Summerland adepts. He has announced that as soon as he has finished, he will go to Geron City to face Queen Faria. Probably before sundown this evening. It seems likely he will come here tomorrow.” He stopped and caught the eyes of everyone in the room. “Assuming, that everything goes as we believe he plans in Geron City.”

A man stood up from halfway down the table. He
was very tall and had a strident voice. “Is there anything that might make things go other than as he has planned?”

Earl Damon leaned over, and whispered, “He’s my friend Crist, the Earl of the Northern Riding of Toranavia.”

King Daron replied, “I’m glad you asked that, as there is. Earl Damon, perhaps you could explain?”

The Earl stood up. “It seems that the Count has had plans in place for a very long time,” he began.

When he sat down some time later, all eyes were on Art. “Thank you, Damon, you put it clearly.” Art waited a moment to ensure he had their full attention. “My father has been training me and my Will with only one thing in mind. His death...” He spoke authoritatively for several minutes finishing with, “...so, since his timetable has shrunk so drastically, I’ll need a lot of help and I’ll need it fast. I hope that you can give it.”

Leaving the room a short time later, after a heated discussion, one of the Waygand nobles, Earl Morrid, spoke to the King. “That young boy wasn’t very deferential, and didn>Leaving ’t seem to regard his elders as his betters, even you. He used your name alone more than once. Is he really suitable?”

King Daron stopped so that they were alone. “Morrid, think. He is focused on one thing alone. If he fails, we’ll all be in a very bad position. If he lives, he’ll be by far the most powerful person in the region. If he was acting even a bit deferential, I’d be worried. Consider, would you want to be on his bad side tomorrow if he lives?”

54

Art appeared inside the arrival room at the Waygand embassy in Jeerea. He let go of Milord Damoten as they both took the instinctive two steps forward that would prevent another arrival materializing inside them. He turned to memorize the room while Damoten waited. Seconds later Baron Edgurd arrived with Ellary.

The news they were given a few moments later, after a quick introduction to Ambassador Mychal, was disconcerting. Against all their expectations, Queen Faria had ridden out of the city. From what he had been told, she had been struck by a pang of conscience. His contact had told him that she didn’t want too many people around for the Count to kill in case she lost her upcoming duel with him. “My own personal opinion,” he ventured, “is that she doesn’t want to see her beloved capital laid waste during the fight.” He paused for effect. “She didn’t exactly leave on her own. There were a good dozen adepts with her, not to mention a whole regiment of guards, dressed for show. They’d have no chance against the Count if he beats her and wants to go on a killing spree.”

Art’s first thought was, “Another charming woman.” Practicalities then took center stage, and he asked, “Where did she go and can anyone get us there?”

“She went towards the pine forest. It’s about ten miles away, and there are no buildings of any significance there except a saw mill. No one I know has a memorized arrival point anywhere near it.”

“What news of the Count?” Baron Edgurd was getting nervous.

The ambassador went to a bureau behind him, and got out a map. “Here is Geron City.” It covered a large part of the center. “We are here.” His finger jabbed at a point near the middle of the city. Another jab. “This is where she went and...” he motioned towards a point near the edge, “...this is Viscount Harama’s summer hunting lodge. That’s where we think he arrived. Harama is famous for his hospitality and parties, so several of the Count’s adepts are bound to have been there before, as well as the Count himself. Since it’s a hunting lodge, he has an arrival room designed for horses next to his stables. As you can see, it’s pretty much on a direct line from the forest towards the lodge. They will meet somewhere in the middle.”

“Where?” posed Damoten.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” the ambassador replied. “Either could stop and choose their ground, and let the other come to them.”

Art took charge. “Whatever the situation, we need to get moving as soon as possible. Are good horses to be had?”

“We do business with a stable nearby. If they have horses, they’ll give them to us.”

“There will be some more arrivals soon, following us. They’ll need a carriage. Does this stable hire them?”

“The emtifbassy has one. It sounds like following you will be the thing to do. I’ll bring the others. How many will there be?”

Art thought for a moment. “At least four, one of whom will be unable to walk.” When Ambassador Mychal raised an eyebrow, he added, “Daron will be one of them too. He may bring others.”

This offhand remark at last brought the Ambassador down to earth. “Why do you need to get to Queen Faria, and do you mean our King?”

“Yes, I mean that Daron, and he’s not my King. In any case, I have to stop the Count.”

“How?” Mychal was confused. “Do you mean before he faces Queen Faria?”

“Stopping him before he faces her would be nice, but I’ll only do that if she swears fealty to me first.” He looked around. “Nobody here thinks that’s at all likely. My real concern is to stop my father from running amok with an augmented degree of power madness once he’s killed her.” Mychal didn’t know what to say, so Art asked, “Can someone take us to these stables?”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a somewhat bewildered Ambassador Mychal saw the door to the arrival room open. Five people came out. King Daron he had expected. Earl Damon and Milord Evorin he could possibly have guessed, but the motionless body they were carrying between them was a surprise. Milady Iria, who followed, he couldn’t have foreseen, even though he had met her before.

King Daron was polite, but abrupt. “Thank you, Mychal, for helping us out with no notice. Is the carriage ready?”

Mychal led them wordlessly to the carriage that was waiting outside. Once they were all settled and the carriage was moving, King Daron offered, “I expect that this has been a little hard to follow.”

Mychal was able to speak at last and managed a muttered, “Yes, your Majesty.”

“You must know that the Count has gone power mad after killing Draman.” He explained the situation finishing with, “...we don’t really want him to go after me next.”

Mychal pointed to the motionless woman wedged between Damon and Evorin. “Where does she fit in?”

It was Iria’s chance. “She is by far the oldest living person who doesn’t have the Will. She even has a city named for her.” She smiled smugly, enjoying being the one who knows something the others don’t. “Her name, like her hair, is ‘Red’. She grew up next door to the Count and is the love of his life.”

Evorin grasped the significance at once. “That is a terrible weapon to use against a Willed opponent.”

Earl Damon was the one who cast a light on Art’s intentions. “He merely wants his father to know that she won’t die when he does. Art was deliberately taken to see her when his father was preparing him. Knowing she has a future will cut a lot of the Count’s resolve out from under him. He doesn’t intend to threaten her life: he wants to make sure he knows she will live.”

The ambassador didn’t quite understand. “Why do it that way? Why not threaten to kill her?”

Damon was quick to explain. “That would be the worst thing he could do. Any threat to her would strengthen his Will enormously.”

* * *

Two milesuld outside the city, Art and his companions were making good speed. The ostler had given them a spare string of horses, along with two grooms, once he appreciated their need for haste - and their complete disregard for the cost. Ellary was uncomfortable. While she had ridden before, she had never ridden for so long, or at speed. Art had promised to heal her when they changed horses, but she had to call a halt for help before then. One of the grooms was immediately beside her, offering to assist, part of his job. Instead, Art waved him away and helped Ellary down himself. He drew her into an immediate embrace, placing his hands first on her buttocks and then caressing her inner thighs. No more than a few seconds had passed before he drew away and said, “You should be healed now, time to remount.”

“You are such a tease!” She pouted at him.

“It’s a promise for later.” Art was trying to reassure himself. They rode on until Art called for a halt to change horses. He took another opportunity to heal Ellary. One of the grooms took the spent mounts and the other followed to take charge of the remainder if, as expected, the riders were to flit away later.

Three miles further on it started to rain. The downpour got heavier and heavier, until they were reduced to a walk. It was an inconvenience that they couldn’t see too far ahead of themselves. The rain never bothered the adepts themselves, as they simply Willed it to sheet away from them and their party. Sooner than they expected they came upon Queen Faria’s entourage. They had stopped at the saw mill, which was the only shelter for miles. In the circumstances, it seemed likely that they would wait here for the Count.

They dismounted and gave the horses into the care of the groom. Art walked with him to some nearby trees, and Willed the branches to intertwine into a makeshift shelter for them. He then rejoined his group and they went looking for the Queen. It wasn’t hard to find her. The first plumed and beribboned soldier who saw their moving gap in the rainstorm rushed up to them, and as soon as he was protected, offered to assist them.

The Baron became a stickler for formality. “Shouldn’t you challenge us or something? Aren’t you meant to be a sentry?”

That gave the soldier a belly laugh. “We don’t matter at all, Milord. This place is already overrun with adepts and more are on the way. Anything any of us normal people could do would be irrelevant.”

Damoten noted, “He’s got a point.”

Art dried the soldier off, and asked, “We are looking for Queen Faria. Can you take us to her please?”

That got an enthusiastic smile and a heartfelt word of thanks. “Milords, Milady, please follow me.” He led them to the saw mill, and predictably to the one door that was actually guarded by a couple of sentries. It was covered by an awning, which explained why they were alert. This time they were challenged.

“Corporal, I have some important people here who wish to see our beloved Queen.”

Art interrupted him. “Tell her that one of the Count’s sons would like to see her.” That got a response, as the corporal asked them to wait while he ducked inside.

It took longer than they expected before they were asked to come in. The mill was a huge building, mostly one room, and it was dominated by a water wheel which was attached, by a system of gears, to several jagged circular saws. It wasn’t in use. There was a stream which ran through. Considering the weather it was no surprise they hadn’t noached,ticed the stream before. The Queen and her adepts were over in a corner, having Willed some spare wood into chairs that were as comfortable as they could make them. Hers was raised. The corporal led them over.

“It looks like we will have some entertainment while we are waiting.” The Queen was all smiles. “Baron Edgurd. How nice to see you again, perhaps you could present your companions?”

“Your Majesty, it is of course a privilege to meet you again. You may recall my son and heir, Damoten.” He then gestured towards Art and Ellary. He hesitated a moment as he was not sure how to style them. He pulled himself together quickly and added, “This is Art, who you can see is a son of the Count, and his lady, Ellary.” Any adept who had been around fifty or more years would have met the Count and would be able to see the resemblance.

They all managed a polite bow and a murmured “Your Majesty”.

“Well, Art, why are you here, and is there any reason why we shouldn’t kill you? I presume you are your father’s ally.”

Art wasn’t fazed by this. “I’ll answer the second part first. You probably can’t, and you might lose several of your adepts if they interfere. As to why I’m here, I wanted to give you a chance to live. I am anything but my father’s friend. I came to kill him.”

There were several indrawn breaths from the Jeerean adepts. The queen, for her part, showed no emotion. “Why would you want to do that?” She was calm and imperious.

Art was calmer, and managed to look imposing. “It’s what I’ve been trained to do.” Before the queen or anyone else could say anything, a large hole appeared in the roof to the sound of splintering wood, and one of the adepts ranged around the queen collapsed. All eyes turned to Art who said, “I would have been a fool to come in here without an interesting array of defenses working. He’s only unconscious; he’ll wake in a few minutes.”

The nearest man bent down and checked his pulse at the throat. “He’s alive.”

“Why not kill him? He tried to kill you.”

“No need, and anyway it wouldn’t be friendly.” Art meant to show total confidence and he was succeeding.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Queen Faria suggested, “We look to have a bit of a wait.”

This was Art’s chance to impress them all again and keep them off balance. He had walked past a pile of cut wood that was curing near the entrance, and he had already envisioned the design of chair he wanted. He simply sat and by the time his backside had reached the appropriate place, a chair of equal height to the Queen’s had manifested. He leaned back as three more appeared. A cursory glance at the roof saw the hole plugged.

“What did you mean; you wanted to give me a chance to live?”

“My father intends to kill you, and I wanted to be at hand to kill him immediately afterwards. Someone has to stop him running amok and killing everybody in sight. He has known for some time that he would eventually go mad; in fact he has been fighting it for quite a while. He had to endure until he thought that I was sufficiently trained up to be able to best him.”

Queen Faria cut in, “That’s why he didn’t face Aravia himself. The madness would have struck him too soon.”

“Right, and as soon as he thought I was ready, he triggered it by killing The madnDraman.”

“Yesterday.”

“He likes surprises.” Art let some cynicism creep into his voice. “Fortunately I had worked his plan out, and was able to get here in time to make you an offer. One I feel morally obliged to make even though I’m almost sure you’ll refuse.” He paused a moment. He might be attacked again when he made the offer, and took the time to check his defenses. “I
f you swear fealty to me, I’ll fight him instead.” No attack came. He must have made them think.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I may be able to beat the Count, you won’t. You lose and you’re dead. You win, which is unlikely, and you’ll only have another challenge to face. I don’t want to see you dead.” One of his defenses activated and flitted him to a spot twenty feet away, one with a convoluted pattern in the floorboards. His chair vanished in a cloud of sawdust. “That wasn’t nice. Someone besides me could have been hurt, and I’m trying to be polite.” He was doing his best to seem unruffled by anything, and kept his voice conversational. “When you’re dead, the offer won’t be there any more.” He went back to his place, created another chair and sat waiting for a reply.