Chapter 29

29.1

***

    Fat Ajoul’s rang with all the familiarity of an old friend – one that had been found after much searching, but now sat there with not much in common to say.  Talaski noticed long-forgotten details, such as the stench of soured, spilt wine and the acrid smoke puffing from the uncleaned fireplace.  There was the noise of people talking loudly, laughing, and arguing, and the rattle of dice across wooden tabletops.  Sailors and day workers stank of sweat and pitch.

    Talaski was home.

    He feasted on fish stewed with sharp spices, bread so heavy it could be used to pound nails, and vegetable fried in heavy batter.  He washed it down with heavy beer and called for more.

    Princess also ate with enthusiasm, her quick sticks picking up pieces as fast as her mouth could hold them.  Despite her frequent comments that the food of the Farlands must be eaten respectfully and politely, she must have missed decent fare.  Jesland, on the other hand, nibbled only on fruit and cheese, as disdainful of the Wizardland food as Talaski was of the Farlander food.

    “He’s not eating enough,” Princess muttered to Talaski.

    “When he’s hungry, he’ll eat.”  That had worked well enough for Talaski in the Farlands.

    She shrugged back. “Not if he hates the spices.”

    Talaski lifted his hand and signaled for the server, a lithe blonde boy, to bring fresh beer.  When he set the three pots on the table, Talaski grabbed his sleeve.  The boy jumped, then spoke in a gravely voice, as if trying to sound older than he was.  “Do you want something else?”

    “A plain roasted fish.  And – where’s Zreet?”

    The boy frowned.  “Zreet?”

    “Tall, red-haired, reads and writes, and tosses melons with both hands.”

    The boy considered this.  “There was a Zreet who served the master before I came.”

    Talaski doubted that there could be two men with the same strange name on the island.  “So where is he?”

    “It’s said that he sleeps with the Lady Fantail, and runs the house for her until her husband comes home.”

    Long time before that happens.

    “So he hasn’t escaped?” Princess asked with a worried frown.

    “It’s said that the Lady Fantail covers him generously.”

    “You’ve seen her?”

    The boy shook his head.  “It’s said that she is quite beautiful.”

    Especially when she’s listening. “We’ll have to rescue him.”

    “That would take a wizard,” the boy said.  “It’s said that she keep him with all her magic and soldiers.”

    “Isn’t it lucky, then, that a wizard sits here?” 

    The voice behind Talaski was smooth, deep, and far too familiar.  He turned to see Salto lounging against the wall, his slit-like eyes glowing softly in the darkness of the room.  “Go away, demon.”

    At a nearby table, one of the sailors sneered at Talaski.  “A wizard?  In pink silk?”

    His two companions laughed.

    Suddenly Talaski was aware that the clothes he had become accustomed to wearing in the Farlands sent a much different message in the Wizardlands, and that the men were not only looking at him, but at Princess.  And they looked at her in the wrong way.  “Yes.  Wizard.”

    “So, wizard.  Make me a love potion.  One to give me any woman I choose.”  He leered openly at Princess, to make his choice clear.

    Talaski felt anger gather in his gut and in his hands.  “I’m not that kind of wizard.”

    The sailors roared in laughter.  The second one wagged his quicksticks at Talaksi.  “How about a charm, then, to keep away the storms?”

    The crowd, interest piqued by the exchange, turned to watch.  The serving boy sidled away.

    “I’m not that kind of wizard,” Talaski repeated.

    “But that’s the simplest kind of wizard!  The second thing that every wizardling learns!”

    “He’s in silk,” observed the third sailor.  “Maybe he’s still learning the first.”

    Talaski felt his power snap and crackle against his palms.

    “Leave the little wizard alone,” called a man from the back, one Talaski recognized as a regular patron.  “He’s harmless.”

    Harmless?  Had harmless destroyed the sea monster?  Had harmless brought down the dark wizard?  Had harmless ruled a nation?  His lips pulled back from his teeth.

    A soft hand touched his shoulder, and Princess said, “Ignore them.”

    He shook her off.

    The sailor stood, kicked back his chair, and hooked meaty thumbs into his belt.   “A harmless wizard?  Who can’t make even simple charms?  And wears pink silk?  What good are you, and why should you have her?”

    Talaski stood.

    “Thief!” screamed a voice from the shadows of the room.  A disheveled young man shoved forward, drunkenly slashing his knife toward Talaski.  “Steal my life?  Steal my woman? Die, you stinking wizard!  Die!”

    Talaski sent his power into the blade.  The metal sagged, dripped, then dropped to the floor in a molten heap; the young Fantail held only an empty hilt.  He stared, then dropped the hilt to the floor, where it scorched the wood.  Burnt palm held out before him, he turned and ran to the door.

    Talaski looked at the now silent crowd and the white-faced sailors.  “I’m that kind of a wizard.”

***

29.2

***

    Some time later, in the respectful calm that Talaski now commanded in the room, Jesland ate the fish that Talaski had ordered for him.  It was free of the oppressive sting of the spices of this land, true, but it lacked any flavor.  Jesland ate it as politely as he could and reflected that he should learn to like the local flavors.

    He would be here for the rest of his life.

    His – what should he call the man?  Dajournae, that was true for Jesland, and would always be true, but meant nothing to anyone else.  Master?  Wizard?  What was Talaski, other than someone who broke the rules and changed the world around him, without ever changing himself?

    A strange pattern within a different pattern.

    At least this problem was Jesland’s, and only Jesland’s.  Lissandra was safe back in the Farlands, where she would soon marry someone suited to her station.  The new Pajournae would see that this cousin of the late Pajournae was married to a good man, a noble man, one with wealth and trees to lavish on their children.  And Jesland need never see her as anything other than the lady of his dreams.

    There was pain when he thought of her, and how she and Princess had seemed to get along, but it was no different than the pain he had always felt when he knew that he could not give her the life he deserved.

    Jesland ate the last of his fish and pushed his thoughts away.

***

29.3

***

    The late morning sun shone hot on Fantail’s garden, lifting rich scents from the blooming flowers.  A handful of bees sang as they went about their business, moving from tree to bush and back again, promising both sweet honey and a good harvest.  A perfect place, Talaski thought, to hide among the greenery and sleep the day away, if not for the fact that both Jesland and Princess shivered and held themselves tightly.

    “Bad memories,” Princess had whispered.

    Talaski had offered to send them away, to Princess’s rooms in the town, but neither would leave them.  So he had hid them in the bushes and went alone to talk to the richly robed figure sitting by himself on a bench.

    Zreet looked up with wide, happy eyes.  “So you are alive!  Where you have you been?”

    “Ruling the Farlands.”

    Zreet snorted.  “Telling stories is my job.”

    “I’ve been living in a tree and going between Princess’s legs every night.”

    The red-haired man shrugged.  “I accept the first part.  So – you’re back?  I think you’re safe.  No one has seen Lord Fantail for months.”

    I’m safe from him, Talaski thought.  “His son threatened me this morning.”

    “The pup is being a problem.  But we’ve found a wife for him, a well-connected wealthy widow from two islands over.  We’ll ship him off to her estate for a few years, until things calm down here, or until we find that his father is dead.  If the latter, then he becomes Lord Fantail, and we go off to an island of our own.”

    He’s quite dead, Talaski thought.   They would have to arrange some way for his body to be found, in a way that everyone could accept his death.  Perhaps Jesland could toss him off a cliff, let the rocks hide what the arrow had done, and let the tide carry the news to the people?  But first, the matter of Zreet.  “What if you could be free of Lady Fantail?”

    “Why would I want that?”  And Zreet seemed genuinely puzzled.

    “You don’t need to live with her to live soft.”

    “Yes, but – without her I wouldn’t have her.  She’s beautiful.  Funny.  And,” he said as he spread his arms wide, “there’s so very much of her.”

    “More than enough.”

    “There’s never more than enough.”

    And he was serious, Talaski could tell.  The man had no intention of being rescued – he was happy with what he had, all of it.  “If you ever need to be rescued, call for me.”

    The man nodded lightly.  “And if you see Princess, give her my greetings.  She could be a lovely woman, you know.”

    Talaski did, indeed.

    “She just needs, well, there should be more of her.  She’s too small.”

    “Have you always like your women large?” Talaski asked.

    “Yes,” Zreet admitted.  “There was a lord’s sister, once.  And the blacksmith’s daughter.  The miller’s daughter.  One of the wives of the Wizardland trader.  The seamstress in the woods – but none of them, really, came close to my Lady Fantail.”

    Talaski left him smiling in the sunlight.

    “You aren’t going to rescue him?” Princess asked.

    Talaski shrugged.  “Nothing to rescue.”

***

29.4

***

    They spent the day in Princess’s rooms, with Talaski and Princess in the delightfully big bed and Jesland in the other room, beyond a shut door.  Some of it was even spent actually sleeping.  In the late afternoon Talaski and Princess, with Jesland a respectful distance behind them, strolled on the beach and collected shells.  Without the eyes of the world on them, the pair stripped off their clothes and bathed in the surf, and even embraced in the privacy of a niche in a rock.  Eventually they dressed and went back to a town which was buzzing with the news of Lord Fantail’s death.  They bought bread bowls from a street vendor, the dark bread filled with fried fish and steamed rice, and from another they bought skewers of candied fruit.  Returning to the seaside, they watched the sun slip beneath the horizon.

    “Very pretty,” said a silken voice by Talaski’s ear.  “But a poor man’s entertainment.”

    Jesland’s knife was already out, Talaski noted.  Out and pointed toward Salto.  The blade would do nothing to the demon, not unless it were enchanted, and Talaski already knew that the Farlanders did not use such things.  But it sent a message, one that Talaski did not wish to mute.

    “Entertainment enough for us,” Talaski said.  “Now go away.”

    “But you’re not a poor man, not any longer.  You’re a wizard, aren’t you?”

    “Yes.”

    “But not much of one.  Are you ready to become more of a wizard than you are?”  His red tongue played over his full lips.

    “No.  I have all I want.”  Talaski turned toward Princess.

    “But for how long?”  The demon was suddenly on the other side of Princess, mimicking her pout and drawn eyebrows.  “Can you keep a woman when you have no money and no way to turn your power to money?”

    “Yes.”  Princess stated. 

    Salto snorted.  “You’ll say that now, when you’re fed and warm.  And his power holds you.  But when those things are gone?”

    “I’ll stay.”

    “You’ll turn like the tide, whore.”  Salto reached out a white hand to stroke her hair.  “I know your heart.  It’s a whore’s heart, always looking for a safe place, a comfortable place.  Just hours ago, it was in your heart to leave him.  You don’t deny that, do you?”

    “Go.  Away.  Now,”  Talaski gripped his palms together, though he knew he had no strength against a demon.  How much would it take to buy an enchanted knife for Jesland?

    “But if you come to me, little wizard, I’ll make you a big wizard.”   The demon gave special emphasis to the word big.  “No one will leave you, without your consent.  No one.”

    “Demons don’t give power freely, and out of the goodness of their hearts.”

    Salto’s smile became a leer.  “There would indeed be a price, but with me it would a pleasure, a delight.”

    Talaski spat into the dirt at his feet.

    “We’ll talk soon.”  The demon smiled as he faded.

    “Let’s go.” Talaski caught Princess’s hand and turned to walk up the street.

    And bumped into Azygous’s prominent belly.

    “Wretch.”  The fat wizard held out a strip of paper.  “Get these things.”

    “Why?”

    “You’re my wizardling, wretch.  You do what I tell you.”  The fat wizard tossed a bag of coins at Talaski’s feet, then faded into a rainbow.

    Talaski stared after him, and thought of Salto’s offer.  Tempting, so tempting.

    “Can you read that?” Princess asked.

    Talaski glanced at Jesland, then down at the list.  “No.  I need Zreet.”

    “I doubt he’s willing to help you.”

    “No.  I have to find someone else.”

    Her hand closed on the list.  “I’ll read it for you.” 

    “Bartiese is dangerous.  I can’t take you there.”

    She smiled.  “I’ve been in worse places.  And Jesland will protect us.”

    “Jesland?”  Talaski looked past her to the soldier.  “You think he’ll come”

    The Farlander stared into his face with a cloaked gaze.  “I serve my Dajournae.”

***

29.5

***

    The morning sun shone down on the new Dajournae and the Pajourn, resplendent in their robes and regalia, seated upon their thrones like the proper rulers they were.  The spider’s web hung like a banner above them, sparkling with sun-kissed dew, and the Watchers had proclaimed that it spoke of long lives and happiness for the royal couple, with many heirs who would also be long-lived and prosperous.  The dark days of the bastard Dajournae were passed, and the golden days of the new reign had begun.

    This was not the spider of the young Watcher, Lissandra noted, but the one watched by the oldest and most proper of the royal Watchers.  Gneara had been banished to his workroom, despite the truth that the new Dajournae wore his face – but as long as Littela moved between her two men, they would never be separate from one another.

    “Our Lady Lissandra, step forward,” called out the Pajourn in her sweetest voice.
    Lissandra forced her face to relax as she walked to a spot several feet from the throne.  As the last Pajournae’s cousin, and of no true relation to anyone on the throne, her position at court was delicate, at best.  She might be exiled to a country estate, if she were lucky.  If not...

    “We think it unseemly that a lady of your standing should continue to be unmarried, and have, therefore, sought and found a suitable partner in life for you.”

    Not lucky. Lissandra kept her face bowed to hide her stiffening features.  And the swiftness of this announcement showed that it was something which the Pajourn had long planned for her.  But perhaps she had found someone tolerable, someone decent.

    “And so it is with great pleasure that we announce that you shall marry, on the feast day of this week, our favored advisor, Movid.”

    Stiffly Lissandra rose and an accepted a jeweled pin from the leering old man.  He insisted on pinning it to her robe himself, and as he did he scooped his hand beneath her breast and pinched.  He whispered, “No need to wait for the ceremony.”

    Those bound to marry rarely did.  The Dajournae and the Pajourn had spent the night in his chambers, and Lissandra doubted it had been wasted in talk.  She forced herself to smile. “Tonight, then.”

    “I’ll wait anxiously.”  Movid pinched her again with his twisted fingers and walked off, leering.

    Lissandra bowed and left.

    She had her jewels and gold, more than enough to pay for a passage to Bartiese.  There, no doubt, someone would know of Fantail Island, which Jesland had told her about.  She also had the pendant, which Lady Princess had given her, the one which would seek out Dajournae Talaski – and surely he would know the whereabouts of Jesland.

    Movid’s bauble bound her to his bed and tree, and it was an insult to the Balance to take it on her flight.  She would leave it behind – under the covers of her bed, so that he might not notice it too quickly.   And the bed, after all, was all he cared about.

    The Pajourn had been planning this humiliation for some time.  How disappointed she must be to not have Jesland see it.   
       
    A white-robed figure blocked her path.  Lissandra looked up into the face of Watcher Gneara.

    “My spider wove a new web last night,” he stated.

    “Don’t stop me.”  It was more of a plea than a demand.

    “The son I do not have sends this.”  He pressed a gold disk into her hand.  On one side was marked the seal of the Dajournae, and on the other the image of the Green Leaf. “She is at your command.”

    “Thank you,” Lissandra breathed.  “What did your spider weave?”

    Gneara smiled.  “My spider is insane – I never know what it weaves.  Journey safe, Lady Lissandra.  And don’t drink the water.”