Sand Ch. 6: Traitor

“What is a jengda who does not even belong to the castle’s employ doing levitating themselves over the castle with stolen goods at such an ungodly hour of the morning?” Judith’s voice was as steely as the steel nails she wore, which were currently digging painfully into Jada’s ankle, drawing blood.
“The goods aren’t stolen!” Jada shot back indignantly, hoping to come off as angry rather than frightened, which was her real feeling at the moment.
Judith firmly pulled Jada onto the balcony, drew some irons out of a weatherbeaten chest by her door, and chained Jada to the railing. Then, she pulled the string of Jada’s possessions onto the balcony and examined them, one by one.
“Let’s see who you are, shall we?” Judith opened one trunk and her jaw dropped at a set of glistening hand-blown glass vases and bottles. Thankfully, Judith did not seem to recognize the distinct craftsmanship of the Erif Drathil glass, but as she examined the contents of each bottle, Jada’s heart sank. “Kethona--tsk tsk, that’s illegal for you, by the last decree of the lord of the castle. Eye-dye; are you an actress? Or not exactly what you seem? Disguise putty, mirkith, spicalia. . .good imports, by the looks of them. That’s a lot of sarcon.”
Judith removed the top layer of the trunk and her eyes widened in yet further delight and shock as she ran her hands through several sacks of black powder. Jada’s heart pounded as heavily as the blood seeping through her leggings as Judith picked up completed dishas and grinned at them with glee.
“So the rumors are true,” Judith breathed.
“What rumors?” Jada asked, distracted, wondering where her slip had been.
“Well,” Judith said as she carelessly scraped some of the gunpowder from under her steel nails, “that trick you pulled, fighting off that assassin from my dear friend Lady Eirana, revealed a lot about your origins. Those daggers, for instance, created quite a bit of a stir among the weaponry community. So foolish of you, keeping such obvious proof of identity on your person, not to mention waving them around like that!”
Jada silently cursed the day she had been presented with her chrys knives.
“From that, it was not too hard to figure out who you were, but without proof, without the actual knife, what gain could there be in it? Besides, I am not so much interested in your capture award, quite a bit of money from two governments, but in the secret you possess.”
Judith continued to rummage through the trunks, breathing hard. Jada could feel the precious papers, so carefully folded and sewn into hidden compartments in her clothing. If Judith knew how to use disguise putty, surely she would know the old hidden compartments trick, wouldn’t she?
Judith gave up her fruitless search of the trunks. “Where is it?” she cried. “I know you have it somewhere!” She swiped at Jada with the claws and dragged them across Jada’s cheek, leaving four long gashes across it. Then, she flexed her claw-like nails and held the sharp point of her right index finger to Jada’s neck; Jada could tell this was a skilled killer, as the blade was right next to the main artery in the neck, where death would come most quickly.
Her mind raced to the days when she had been responsible for marketing her tribe’s blown glass bottles. What did she have to use to barter? Obviously, no amount of money was enough. Her tribe’s secret? Out of the question! She would sooner die than put the secret of explosives in the hands of this woman. Her life? Judith wouldn’t kill a potentially useful bartering chip, not just then.
Information. Judith wanted information, so Jada would give it to her.
“There is no way I’m going to give that to you,” Jada said calmly, almost serenely as she felt an increase of the pressure on her neck. “I have something better, though.”
“There isn’t anything better than the dishas!”
“What do you want to do with that information, anyway? Sell it? That’ll only give you more money,” Jada reasoned. “Use it? You’d have to let on the secret to someone else, and they could turn you in, and we could have a party in the afterlife, because death is the penalty for illicit weaponry; you know that. What is it that you really want?”
“That,” said Judith testily, “is none of your business.” Jada could tell, though, that Judith could see where this was going.
“I have another secret that can give you what you desire.” Now it was Jada who held Judith captive, despite the fetters and the finger-blade.
“What is this secret?”
“Release me and swear by whatever god you worship that you will not turn me in, and I’ll tell you,” Jada bargained.
“I swear it by Yonba,” Judith chimed, mesmerized. She took out the key to the chains and released Jada as Jada began to tell her of the Manicalise queen who was at this very moment pacing back and forth in her quarters several floors down.

Stefus, Norbert, Gawen, Lady Kessil and Lady Eirana were waiting for Jada in a private parlor of The Red Dragon when she finally limped in, dragging her possessions behind her. For once, Jada did not want to meet with them, did not want them to ask her where she’d been. She felt dirty from her act of betrayal, and she did not want to contaminate them.
“Where have you been?” Gawen asked her, seeing her haggard appearance.
“What have you been doing?” Kessil demanded, rushing to treat the bloody face and ankle.
Jada pushed her away, and ignored the questions.
“Keri, what--?”
“My name’s not Keri!”
“I know, but we have to be careful and all, what with others here.”
“They all know, the whole world knows! Or they should. The whole world should know what I am!” Her voice was hollow and cold, her eyes both dead and maniacal at the same time.
“Have you gone mad, Jada?” Gawen half-shouted.
“You know what? I think I have! Only a madwoman would do what I’ve done. Only a madwoman would empower others to prey on the innocent!”
“Jada, that was your brother, not you!”
“Are you sure of it?”
There was a deadly silence as Jada glared at them. She already felt guilty for yelling at her friends, but she was guilty enough for one act, why not add more?
Sir Norbert broke the silence with a sigh. “Stefus, reason with her; you’ve known her the longest of anyone here.”
“She doesn’t listen to me.”
“No, you don’t listen!” Jada rounded on him. “You keep on saying how you’re protecting me from the governments, and no doubt you’ve done a most excellent job at that, but can you protect me from myself? I don’t think so!”
She tore from the room, out the doors of the pub, and ran into the forest, back to the place where the meeting had been. She found the rock that marked the tunnel entry and had started to open it when she felt a gentle hand on her back. She reeled around to see Stefus, looking mournfully at her with his gold-brown eyes.
“What is it, Jada?” he said gently. “Something happened on the way back from the meeting; what was it?”
Jada looked away, a tear rolling down her cheek. She would leave Delixia forever, and go to Jegundo, where she would confess every crime and receive her punishment. She would die for what she’d done; it was better than she deserved.
“What is it?” he demanded, his voice firm now. “Look at me and tell me what happened.”
“I’ve done--” she gulped, “a terrible thing.” She told him what had transpired between her and Lady Judith. Stefus listened patiently, holding back his own questions about Alaviel actually being Queen of Manicolus. He was astonished, but kind.
“No harm or exposure has come from this act yet,” Stefus reminded her when the tale was done. “You can still right this wrong. There is still anza.”
“She’s Manicalise, though; she wouldn’t know what I was doing.”
“She’s a world leader. How would a world leader not know the basic customs of the Rashdans? I think you should go do anza tomorrow morning, before Judith has time to do anything with the information.”
“What good would that do? I might as well do what I’d planned to do in the first place and get properly punished by Jegundo instead of a humane beheading by such a noble personage.”
“You were actually planning to do that?” Stefus’s whispered hoarsely.
“I will yet,” Jada replied. “I deserve all the charges they put upon me. What I did was irredeemable. As were the acts of my brother, which I could have stopped.” She removed her cloak. “You’ll find hidden compartments sewn in--pages of notes, the secret of the dishas. Take it and burn it.” She held it out, her eyes intense
“Please--don’t. I--you---“ He stared at her intently for a moment, unable to speak, then he seemed to jerk himself out of his thoughts. “It was not your brother who took lives, it was the trigger-happy people under him,” Stefus reminded her. “He only used the dishas as threat and distraction. It was his followers who used them to kill. There’s nothing he or you could have done to stop them. Please, do not punish yourself for the acts of your family.”
“My own acts deserve such punishment.”
“It is but one act, Jada, and--” once again he found himself searching for words he could not find. “I don’t want you to do this. If you wish to dispose of yourself, do it honorably in the customs of our people, through anza.”
“But what of her choice? What if she lets me live?”
“Then live, Jada, live!” His voice cracked. Jada looked at him questioningly. “I thought I lost you once; I don’t want to go through that again. Follow the Rashdan laws, and live or die by that, but don’t make me sit twice through this!” He sighed, then caught himself. He looked down and said, “I apologize. I forget myself.” He gently took the cloak from her hands and put it once more around her shoulders.
Jada shook violently, then whispered, “At dawn I will go to Alaviel and perform anza. Should she decide against my life, take my body, including this cloak, and burn it. Give my chrys knife to Gawen; take the rest of my property for your tribe, except for compensation for Sir Norbert’s property loss.”
“Very well, then,” Stefus bowed, however shakily. “In Lr A’dl’s name, may it be sealed as a promise.” She bowed back. “Are you going to patch those up?” he asked, eyeing the cuts on her cheek and her blood-soaked ankle.
“No; why bother?”
“If you survive anza, the scars could be permanent if you don’t do something about it now.” He pulled out a damp rag he’d obviously brought from the pub and started to mop up the blood on her face.
“You’re such a good friend, Stefus,” Jada winced as he put salt into her wounds. “You’ll not catch me saying this again if I live through this, but thank you.” She gave him a painful smile.
He smiled back as they parted ways to return to their different masters. Neither of them slept that night; Jada, despite her promises to return to the pub, stayed in the woods all night, limping between the trees, thinking of how she would face the morning. Stefus tossed and turned, trying not to think of how he would face his mother if Jada lost anza.
The stars faded, and the sky began to lighten. Jada knelt on the hard earth and prayed to Lr A’dl to let justice be done, then made her way to Alaviel’s quarters.
She tapped the door cautiously. It opened, but only a crack.
“Keri,” Alaviel smiled. “What a pleasant surprise. I would let you in, but--”
“I know who you are,” Jada said quietly, her eyes downcast. “I suggest you let me in.”
Alaviel silently consented, surprised as Jada shut the door behind her and prostrated herself before Alaviel, and chanted:
“My neck is here for you to take
For I have done you evil.
By Lr A’dl for Lr A’dl’s sake,
Choose my life or death or what you will.”
Recognizing the words of anza, Alaviel chanted back:
“Enemy or friend like foe
What did you do?
This you must show.
Say all or none, but be well true.”
“My crime, your majesty, is treachery; I have revealed your identity to Lady Judith. She now knows that you are the Queen of Manicolus, and that you read the future in faces.
“My crime you have heard;
Make your choice.
Lr A’dl has last word,
But you have my voice.”
Jada set her ceremonial daggers in front of her on the ground and waited with bated breath. She had seen this done many times before, and she had seen people lose; it wasn’t a pretty sight. She could hear Alaviel pick up the daggers--any time now, she would feel them fall. Jada pressed her lips together, waiting for the end.
“I forgive you.”
Jada looked up in surprise as Alaviel tossed the daggers to her. They stood, buried sharply in the floor between them. Alaviel continued,
“By Lr A’dl, anza is done;
May our judgments be sound,
And fairness won.
May Lr A’dl bless everyone!”
Alaviel helped the astonished Jada to her feet, then picked up the daggers and handed them to her, smiling. Jada felt numb.
“Why?”
“Why did I forgive you?” Alaviel laughed; it was like the clinking of a crystal goblet against another. “Look at it this way: if Judith tried to make it public, who would believe her? As a precaution, though, I’ll head her off with my own persuasions.”
Jada realized that the Queen had a point here. “But Judith will find ways to use it to gain power!”
“I’ve got the power of Manicolus behind me,” Alaviel reminded her. She held out her hand. “It is better, I think, that you be alive to help me as I try to right the wrongs of my ancestors. From this day onward, if you accept, I will be your friend.”
Jada took the proffered hand and shook it slowly at first, then, so slowly, a smile broke the pervading gloom of her face as she pressed it firmly before letting go.

When she returned to the pub, Stefus was waiting outside the door, looking excited and relieved to see her. His falcon circled over his head, chirruping loudly. Night was gone completely, and now that the sky was light, the sun casting its brilliant shimmers over the lake, it seemed as if everything would be all right, at least for now.
He hugged her as soon as he saw her; he couldn’t help himself.
“Stefus, what’re you--?”
He quickly broke away. “Sorry,” he said, grinning. “But I think you might be a little less controlled than this if you saw your best friend safe and sound right after their being in mortal peril and all of that. So she forgave you?”
“Instantly.” She returned his grin.
“You must be hungry, then,” he said as the falcon landed on his shoulder and he opened the door to the pub for her. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“But you usually eat in the jengda commons, don’t you?”
“I belong to Eirana now; her food is way better,” he commented as he swung open the door to the same private parlor as the night before where the same people as before sat at the table.
“You look a fright, mayda,” Gawen said as he pulled a chair our for her. “Glad to see you, though; please, eat something.”
Jada realized how strange she must look, what with the twigs in her hair from her night in the forest and the scars across her cheek.
“Gawen, aren’t you supposed to be--?”
“I told Lady Isabelle I needed him for an emergency I was having,” Sir Norbert explained, buttering a piece of toast. “Got him out of a nasty morning’s work.”
Jada collapsed into her chair, dazed. It was all just too good to be true. “This can’t be real…” she said aloud. “I must be dreaming.”
“Oh, we’re quite real, I assure you,” Eirana said confidently. “Do have some toast; it looks like you haven’t eaten in quite a while.”
“Stefus didn’t tell us why you wanted to go running and throwing your life away, but he wanted us to be together when we found out the result of anza,” Kessil explained. “We want you to know that we’re your family.”
There was a silence.
Jada broke down into tears. “You--you are my family? I love you--love you all.”
“It’s okay, Jada!” Sir Norbert intoned. “Calm down and eat something! Now,” he added in a businesslike fashion, “we’ve decided not to scratch your original identity--too complicated. I will introduce you as my new assistant in class today.”
“But I’ve had no time to prepare!”
“You’ll be fine,” Sir Norbert assured her. “It’s all extremely basic, just do what I say, and it will be all right. Lady Eirana, you’ve been in my classes before; how hard is it?”
“Your advanced mind penetration class is extremely hard,” Eirana said slowly, “but all the rest are nearly moronic. Seeing as Sir Ziro, Sir Alfonso, and I are the only ones in that class, I would say it tips the scale towards pathetically easy.”
“Sir Ziro? The weapons master?” Jada queried, surprised. Lady Eirana blushed. “I can’t demonstrate mind penetration with him in the room; if Lady Judith could read the runes on my knives, so could he.”
“But he hasn’t said anything yet.”
“That’s because he doesn’t want to be hauled off to an insane asylum,” Healer Kessil informed them. “His enthusiasm combined with his taste for weaponry cause people to be worried about his sanity. I will remain as your healer, by the way,” Kessil added, “and Sir Norbert has agreed to pick up the tab, as he predicts a sharp rise in occupational hazards.”
“Ah, occupational hazards,” Jada grinned. “Now we’re talking. I’ve been looking for something to do with fifty pounds of gunpowder and an assortment of dishas.”
“Can you have an act ready by next week?”
“I’ll perform tonight, if you’d like. I can have something more…complicated ready in a month or two with a full cast and Stefus’s help. I’ve been writing something, and I think it’s time I tried it out.”
“Eirana, can you spare Stefus for a month or two?”
“I think so,” Eirana shrugged, smiling. “On the condition that you give me free access to your card parlors to talk to you all for the next few months.”
“Where do I get a choice in this?”
“I’m your master, Stefus, so by law I don’t have to give you one. I’m nice enough to do so, but do you really want to turn it down?”
“Well, no--”
“Then we’ve got it! Jada and Stefus will be the new entertainment staff.”
“I’ll need Gawen’s help, too; I’ve taught him things even Stefus doesn’t know,” Jada said thoughtfully. “He would be invaluable.”
“I’m not valuable?”
“Study your vocab!”
Gawen frowned, then light dawned. “Oh yes,” he said quickly, “I would enjoy being your assistant. And when I wasn’t being your assistant or if you got mad at me, I could bus tables in the restaurant. I can cook, too; I’m pretty good at it.”
“Gawen, let me talk for you before you talk yourself out of it,” Jada growled. “Leave words like ‘assistant’ out of it, as Stefus has seniority over you.”
“Where do I get a choice in this?” It was Sir Norbert speaking this time, but comically. “I’ll buy the little jester off Lady Isabelle; but that’s all! I can’t afford to hire anyone new after this unless you two actually help my profits. If your scheme doesn’t succeed, it’s back to University service for both of you!”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Jada said with a smirk. “When I’m through with this, your pub will go down in history as the greatest not just in Delixia, but in all of D’nal.”

Lady Judith sat in the Prankster’s Roost that evening, gleeful as a jengda with silky brown hair entered and bowed. “You requested me, my lady?” Alaviel queried. “I’m guessing you wish to speak with me in a private parlor.”
“You are right indeed,” Lady Judith replied, slightly deflated by Alaviel’s ease in her presence. They sat down at a table in a deserted room. There was a pause as Judith regained her bearings. “So,” she began smoothly, “I happen to know some of your little secrets.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Telepathy, thought Judith, making a mental note to practice shutting her mind.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Alaviel commented, looking Judith directly in the eyes. “I have to be looking at you for it to work.”
“Why would someone as smart as you tell me something like that and thus empower me?”
“You were going to look it up this evening after talking to me anyways,” Alaviel shrugged, “so I figured I’d save you the time.”
“So how do you know?”
“A lizard told me,” Alaviel replied smoothly. “I believe you’re supposed to address me as ‘Your Majesty,’ or do you believe that you are above me?”
“I hold your identity hostage, as well as your lover--I can destroy him easily.”
“So much as touch him, and you will automatically experience more pain than seventy pounds of girca powder can produce,” Alaviel said almost sweetly. “He’s under royal protection, as is our mutual traitor.”
“Mutual traitor?”
“Tell me that you are not so dull as to think she only betrayed me. She’s too decent to let a wrong go undressed, not even one she committed herself. She has rather old-fashioned values about that.”
“I don’t have to lay a hand on her to make her life exceedingly painful,” Judith hissed. “Or on Alfonso. I believe both of them are guilty of treason against the High Court, if my spies tell me true. All it takes is one word, and they’re both at the gallows or, in Jada’s case, worse.”
“All it takes is a tip of my hand into your cup as I serve your drink to end your life with girca, and should that fail,” she smirked, “none of your weapons or poisons can stop the sepulchral silence I can invoke.”
“You’re too decent to do that,” Lady Judith shrugged. “And killing me would give you no satisfaction if your subjects already knew what you were doing and your people were in prison. You know what I want.”
“You’re not getting it. Not all of it, anyway. I can, however, give you this,” Alaviel said as she handed Judith a sealed envelope. Judith hungrily broke the seal and read it; her eyes widened. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people who will give you power for that.”
“We have a deal,” Judith grinned. “You have been a fool, but a fool who pleases me.”
“The game has just begun.”

A mere stroll from this scene Stefus was entering the Red Dragon, feeling good to be getting to his first production meeting with Jada and Gawen early enough to eat some supper after the long ordeal of the previous night. He opened the handsomely carved doors of the pub (he often wondered why such a fine establishment was still referred to as a pub and not some more befitting name, like a dinner theatre) and seated himself at the bar, having ordered some bread and Rashdan tea which he found annoyingly overpriced due to the tariffs on Rashdan goods. As the barmaid served these to him, he looked up at the stage opposite the bar, and was amazed.
Jada had definitely cleaned up since the night before. Her disguise pieces had been redone, her new scars hidden well beneath her stage makeup. She had swapped her jengda tunic for an orange silk one that trailed gracefully below her as she glided in the air, unsupported by anything the eye could see, singing and whimsically moving orbs of brightly blown glass around her.
As the song ended, she landed softly, wincing almost imperceptibly as her injured foot touched the ground, and bowed as applause and cheering commenced. “Now, would anyone here like to dance?” She called. More applause. “Then come up here and dance!” With that, she picked up several instruments--a drum, a tambourine, and an oboe--and started to play them, and one wondered how she could be playing them all at once until it was seen that she was making them play of their own accord, and Jada herself had descended into the audience and, grinning, pulled a pair here, a pair there up onto the stage until it was filled with turning, twirling people. Then she saw Stefus, and, without any warning whatsoever, pulled him up on stage, too.
“Having a good time, aren’t you?” he asked her above the noise as they spun around each other. “I don’t see what you need me for with all of this!”
“I’m not dancing alone right now, as you can see,” she replied. “A one-woman show is not nearly as good as a full cast, and a review is not as fun as a show with a plot.”
“That is true,” he smiled, giving her a twirl with a flourish of the hands. “How on D’nal are you keeping up concentration on your instruments while you’re dancing over here and having a conversation all at the same time?”
“I’ll expect no less of you by the time I’m through with you,” she shrugged. “Let’s do a lift.”
“You don’t need me to do that,” he scoffed. “You can fly.”
“No, silly, I’ll lift you,” she said. The music swelled, and Stefus found himself suspended over her head with balance he knew was not his. He found the sensation rather disturbing as she leveled him back to the ground. Hoots and cheers erupted all over the pub. “Fun, isn’t it?”
“Disturbingly,” he said. “Never do that to me without proper warning ever again.”
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Next time you’re up here, you’ll be supporting your own weight flying.”
“I can’t do that!” he grumbled. “I never was a real performer; I was playing the music others danced to, not doing the dancing. I was the one who made sure people did the right thing at the right time. I’m no actor!”
“I’ll cure you of that,” Jada quirked an eyebrow infuriatingly.
As the music quickened for the climax, Stefus threw her into a one-hand aerial handstand, marveling at how impossible this move had been for him when his mayda had attempted to teach him how to dance--his hard work had definitely paid off. As the music wound down, he took her into a dip.
Staring up at him as the audience applauded, she commented, “Even if you’re no actor, you’re not a bad dancer--better than me on the ground.”
“You’re better than me in the air.”
“Then I’ll teach you to fly, and you’ll teach me how to work with the ground.”
They broke the position and she bowed to the pub, saying, “Come back tomorrow night!” as she left the stage and took Stefus to a private parlor and closed the door. “This room isn’t the ideal height for flying lessons, but as it’s your first, you shouldn’t have too much trouble with the ceiling.”
“What? You’re teaching me here? Now?”
“Yes,” Jada said. “There’s a lot to do, and not all of it for the show.”
He stared at her for a moment, then blinked. “What do you have in mind?”
She was silent for some time, lost in thought. Then, she suddenly asked, “What do you intend to do when I no longer need protecting?”
Taken aback, he answered, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Return to my tribe, I guess.”
“I see,” she mused. “You’ll return to your tribe, and the jengda will still be here. They will still be illiterate, abused, and destined to a hopeless future. But then,” she continued, “if I do it right, they won’t be. They’ll be free and happy--you’ll be free, too. I will not need protecting then.”
Remembering Jada’s look on her face from before she went to perform anza, he queried, “And why will that be so?”
“You will know that in good time--I’ll not tell you that now. Later, though. For now, I need you to relax and let go of the ground--you cannot learn to fly until you let go of the ground.”
“You cannot learn to walk until you accept the ground.”
“To fly, you have to accept it and let it go; if you deny its existence, it will painfully remind you of itself, kind of like Lr A’dl.”
He stared at her. “How am I supposed to do that?”
She laughed and stretched out her arm. “It’s hard to teach this verbally. I know you don’t like the mind-magic, but it’s the best way to do this. I promise not to pry into your thoughts and only share the mindset of flying.”
He winced. “If it’s the only way to learn. . .” He touched her fingers and had the oddest sensation of both being himself and looking at himself at the same time. It hurt to wrap his mind around how this was possible.
“Sorry,” Jada apologized, “for any discomfort you may be feeling. The first time you do this, it can be painful.”
“I’ve done it before,” he said, “but not with double vision. Why am I looking through your eyes?”
“I want you to be able to see the way you move, while still being able to look through your own eyes,” she explained. “Now, be quiet: it’s hard to concentrate and talk at the same time.”
He obliged, and through his fingertips he felt a oneness with his surroundings--with the air, with gravity, with the ground. Somehow, they seemed to become a part of him, and he--no, this was Jada’s mind he was experiencing, he reminded himself--was able to control them, because they were a part of him. He felt himself rise a few inches off the ground, then land back on his feet.
Jada withdrew her hand. “That’s how it works,” she said.
“Is that how it works with the mind-magic, too?” he asked. “Does the other person’s mind become a part of you?”
Jada hesitated. “In a way, yes. You have to accept them. But accepting the other person’s mind is not enough; you have to love them. Love is what makes any sort of magic work in our world. What you just experienced was a love of flying, a love and respect of the ground, air, and gravity. It is no coincidence that Lr A’dl’s name is love--being love, He is all-powerful.”
“Then why did you doubt His love such a short time ago?”
Jada sat down and sighed. “Because I do not think myself worthy of it. Even now, I highly doubt it. The queen may have forgiven me, but that doesn’t erase what I did. In the end, I will pay for it, and I will give that payment gladly.”
“Is this all part of the plan you refuse to tell me about?” he queried. “Because if it is, it doesn’t sound like you’re thinking much differently than you were last night.”
“It’s true,” she chuckled sadly. “I guess it may turn out to look that way in the end, but I hope you do not see it that way when it comes. Some of the same motivations are there, yes, but there are others; I was selfish last night to not think of our brethren of the Council.”
“The Rashdan Council?”
“The Council of Oak Rock Forest.”
“How would you being dead help them at all?” Stefus admonished her. “I’ve studied military history, and every campaign in the history of D’nal that has failed has failed from either bad leadership or no leadership. I know you hate to hear it, but you’re their leader.”
“I wouldn’t be doing this right away,” Jada informed him. “That’s why I have a plan. Do you think you could lead them?”
“Me?” Stefus paused to think about it. “I don’t know. You’re the teacher--as students, they naturally follow you. I’ve taught them, but I don’t think they would rally around me as they rally around you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She held out her hand again. “We’ve gotten off topic. Now, show me what it’s like to fly.”
He was surprised to find that, without any help from Jada, he actually managed a few inches. Something was bothering him, though.
“If love is what makes magic work, how do so many people use magic for wrong?”
Jada winced. “I knew you were going to ask that.” She stroked her face where, Stefus knew, scars were hidden under the makeup. It took her awhile to reply. “The flip side of love is not hatred, as many believe, but indifference. Indifference can’t power anything. Hatred, though, is very powerful. The main difference between love and hate is that while love is a concentrated wish for the best for someone or something, hatred is a concentrated wish against something or someone.”
“So. . .all the magical power I’ve ever seen you or any of the mages do are controlled by nothing but emotions?”
“Neither love nor hate are emotions; they are decisions, even if they are decisions heavily influenced by emotion. Most people let their emotions decide for them, but that sort of lack of discipline is what causes so many problems in our world today. You are the master of your own emotions; you cannot change what happens, but you can change your attitude towards what happens. Once you can control what is within you, you can better control what is outside of you.”
“You’re starting to sound like Wylth.”
“I learned everything I know from him, my father, and my brother--Wylth taught me the fundamentals, though. I’d had some knowledge of some parlor tricks before I studied with him, but he made me actually understand it. Didn’t you just pay him a visit not long ago?”
“Yes,” Stefus said. “I was delivering our monthly payment to the temple in Clevia, and he was there to receive it. He took me aside and we had a drink while he filled me in on the latest news from Jegundo.” He hesitated.
“Well, what news?”
“Even though most of the officials think you’re dead or not worth pursuing, there’s one investigator, a Sir Shath, who thinks you are. He’s been to Dratzim, trying to track down where you fled after your tribe was attacked--he even questioned Dashad Riya Dru, but of course he didn’t want to admit that he’d lost to you. He’s enlisted Tartath as his right-hand man.”
Jada frowned. “I thought Tartath was working on a girca farm.”
“It’s been sold to Dashad Riya Dru; there was a big scandal about it, having a Rashdan tribe farm for the High Court. Up until now, the Council and the Court have been independent of each other, and now they fear that since the head of the Council is now working for the Court, Rashdans will lose their freedoms as a separate government.”
“Where is this investigator now?”
“They’ve been combing the desert; no one in Dratzim or Folona wants to talk, so you’re safe for now. If Lady Judith says anything, though, you could be in major trouble.”
“Major trouble, eh?” Jada sighed. “It seems I’m always in major trouble. For the present moment, I’m too much of a good bargaining chip for Judith to cash me in just now, but that may change. She tends to think only of the immediate gain, but I think I’ve gotten her to realize that if she wants her long-range goals achieved, she’ll need me around just a little while longer.”
“What are her goals, anyway?” Stefus wondered. “I know she has a lot of power over both nobles and commoners alike, but why she is amassing this power is beyond me.”
“She wants the Desca Isles,” Jada replied. “She is a descendant of the last native ruler of them.”
Stefus whistled. Everyone knew that the Desca Isles contained the most valuable good for any country: dentra. Dentra, a magic-enhancing herb, was what kept every major mage alive in the entire world; it was the main ingredient in mirkith, which was not only useful for inducing helpful visions, but for putting the mind in the focused, relaxed state necessary to perform magic. Until dentra was discovered, it was nearly impossible to do mind-magic without years and years of frustration. With the discovery of dentra, the entire world’s technology made a sudden leap.
“How does she think she’s going to get it from Tre-revaj’s grasp if the Rashdans haven’t?” He asked. “It’s been under their rule longer than Yaylithe has.”
“As you’ve said, she’s grown very powerful. She’s been maneuvering for years, putting her cards in place for when she’ll make the final move, sort of like what Alaviel’s doing, except I don’t think we really want someone as power-hungry as Lady Judith controlling the most valuable commodity in the known world; I would rather see them become an independent democracy.”
“You would like to see the whole world be a democracy,” he laughed. “You’re not done fixing Yaylithe, remember? You can fix the Desca Isles when you’re done with Yaylithe.”
“And if I die in the process of fixing Yaylithe?”
Stefus frowned. “You’re always talking about death,” he said. “Have you ever considered following that future you dreamed about? The one about going to Folona and keeping your tribe alive?”
“My visions tell me otherwise.”
Stefus slowly sat down by the table in the parlor. “They’re from mirkith, right? Tell me about them. Those have been misinterpreted before.”
Jada sat down next to him and gazed off into the distance. “Lr A’dl spoke directly to me.”
Stefus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You mean, not just in images? He spoke in words?”
“Yes, in words,” Jada answered, “though they were almost as confusing as the images.”
“Well, what did He say?”
Jada’s eyes flickered as she remembered the vision she’d had that night after she’d recounted the history of the Rashdans to Gawen and Stefus. “I will guide you if you follow me.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“You are my child and I will make you strong. If you choose to obey, I can help you free these people. You have seen a glimpse of what is to come if you decide to take this road. It will be difficult, but I will give you strength.”
“But what did you see?”
Jada bit her lip. “My brother--dead, of course. I was performing something, and arrested on stage. I also saw you, and Alaviel--”
“Doing what?”
“Looking extremely unhappy, for one thing...both of you took my hand, and--” she glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “There was more pain than I have ever experienced.”
Stefus pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Pain can mean just about anything, in this world we live in, but very little out there can be much worse than some of what I’ve seen you go through. Girca poisoning, maybe.”
“What a comfort you are,” Jada remarked sarcastically. “And you say I’m a pessimist?”
“Sorry, I’m just trying to be helpful in interpreting your vision. Did Lr A’dl say anything else?”
“I won’t lie to you. You may die, and die terribly. You may loose everything you hold dear. But I promise you this: whatever may conspire on this world, you will find eternal rest.”
“Well, that’s comforting. I tell you, Jada, are you sure you didn’t just make this up to frustrate me?” He used a deadpan tone of voice, with no expression. Jada recognized it as the one he used whenever he was in denial of something.
“I swear upon my brother’s grave that it was as I spoke it,” Jada replied.
Seeing the exhausted, frustrated look on his face--expressed in subtleties of the facial muscles no urtyu could pick up immediately, but apparent to Jada--she suddenly realized all the trouble she’d put him through in the last few days and reflected that this was definitely not the best timing for dropping the contents of her vision on his shoulders. She also, in this moment, discovered something growing inside her that she did not want to admit was there--was he not in her vision, after all?
As soon as she saw it, though, she knew she had to let it be, to let go of it. Besides, she herself had said that it was a decision, not an emotion.
This all was in a split second, after which she continued in a soothing tone of voice, “Lr A’dl never said that this was definitely what was going to happen, only that it may happen; he also promised rest, which all of us can use. Let us not worry too early about the foggy views of the future; instead, let us get to work on our show.” She paused for a moment, then added, “When was the last time you went to a good party?”
Stefus laughed. “Quite a while.”
“Then I suggest that you go to the Festival of Yonba next week, and have a good time,” Jada chuckled. “You need to have more fun, my friend.”
“Duty’s more important than fun,” said Stefus. “Who am I to have fun while there’s work to do?”
“Consider it a part of your work, then,” Jada smiled. “I command you to go to the festival and have a good time.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“And make sure Gawen shows up, too.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“And start dressing better.”
“Yes, Jada,” he grinned. “Come now, am I really that shabby?”
“You have no idea. I’ll give Eirana money to pick out something tasteful.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Stefus muttered. “I’m no beggar.”
“Consider it my thanks for, let’s see, what’s the phrase you use? ’Being my protector,’” Jada said. “After the week I’ve put you through, you deserve it.”
“Yes, Jada,” he grinned all the more mischievously as he exited out the door.
Jada could hear definite whistling as his steps faded away.