Part II
Younger pummeled path, Fish Call.
“It is nearly time for dinner,” observed Syphir brightly.
“We are almost to the well,” said Jasinta.
“Of course we must press on.”
Frent coughed in a wealthy sort of way. “Dear fellow, I quite agree, though I am ruined with hunger.”
Jasinta seemed to have no pity on his ruination and pressed on determinedly, a hand to her side. Lady Erstella and the tutor both looked rather bemused, but they followed closely behind her without a word.
The company reached a hill and Frent, who apparently hadn’t noticed it in the distance, moaned, “Oh, let us go around. I couldn’t foot it.”
“You can!” yelled Syphir encouragingly. “This adventure is creating you a new and better man!” In response, Frent made a noble effort, tripped on a slippery stone, and tumbled down.
A man walked past him, holding a sheep. “Governor,” he said, absolutely gliding up the hill.
“Erg,” said Frent. “I’m useless and a failure; it was an ill-fated moon that rose the night of my birth, and ominous were the clouds.”
Syphir sprang down to him. “That’s not bad, fellow. We’ll sharpen that head of yours yet.” He reached out a hand, and with noble strength of character, Frent seized it and pulled himself up.
“Where have they all gone?” he asked.
Syphir looked. “Over the hill. Come along.” Syphir began pushing him up the hill. A gent in a bright uniform and numerous medals navigated around them.
“Dear, dear,” he said, turning and clicking his heels, putting a hand on the golden hilt of his sword and another to his magnificent mustache. “Dear, dear, dear. The young gentry these days. Probably fabulously wealthy?”
“Oh,” said Frent, shrugging off his friend and walking alongside the man, “rather. Thunderer is my house.”
“Well, well. Thunderer. Well, well. I’ve heard that name, of course. 1236. Blasted the bloody foe. Well, well.” He pulled a pistol from a large pocket and used it to scratch his ear. “Yes, her majesty, may she live forever and happily, her majesty herself is very much interested in your house. War’s brewing! And there are rumors about your house, as ever.”
“War?” said Syphir. “There’s not such a thing these days.”
“Hey ho!” said the gentlemen, twirling around and restoring the pistol to his pocket. “What’s this?” He drew his saber and put it under Syphir’s chin, looking at him carefully.
“Sir!” exclaimed Syphir, a trifle hotly.
Sir shook his head. “Bless my blasted boots. Are you not Syphir, my sister’s son?”
“Uncle Ollie?”
“The Honorable Belligerent Oliver, if you please, sir, decorated and all.” He seized Syphir around the shoulders and gave him a brutal embrace. “I’m overjoyed to see you, my lad! How have you been wasting your life, eh? Are you rich?”
“No, but this fellow is, and he’s the truest friend in all the world.”
“Well, to think!” said T. H. B. Oliver. “The ancient alliance still stands. And what are you doing in these parts? Don’t tell me, ’cause I’m here to find out! Commissioned by the queen, with honor. Count me in on whatever path you’re treading. It’s what I’m here for. Come along, then. Let’s join up with the rest of your party.” He sheathed his saber, put an arm around Syphir and Frent both, opened his mouth, closed it again, and broke out into a decent hum. He rushed the both of them up the hill and down the other side before Frent could quite grasp how he was doing it, but the road was empty for a long way. In the distance, a circle of cottages could be seen, and the road led up right to center of this circle, where stood an unimpressive well.
“Now,” said T. H. B. Oliver, “where are your friends?”
“I don’t know,” said Frent, somewhat out of breath – he and Syphir were still being borne along at a decent rate. At that moment, they shot through a brief puff of pink fog and the scene changed. It was the same road, the same houses, the same terrain, but the man with the sheep had appeared nearby arguing with a spectral somebody. And that was not the only specter. Indeed, the more Frent looked, the more specters appeared and floated out of the ground and the air and even each other.
“Not to worry,” said T. H. B. Oliver. “Head down and homeward bound, that’s what I used to tell my division.”
“We’re not homeward bound,” moaned Frent.
“Well,” said the other, shaking him encouragingly, “the idea is, once the task is done, then you’re homeward bound, and thus so you are from the start. My compliments, madame,” he added as a transparent lady walked past. “Ah, and if you look carefully, there are your friends. Bring out your best feet.” He guided them around many apparitions, spewing forth many a polite nothing. It was some little time before they reached the rest of their party, but they managed to do it just before the rest of their party reached the well. Villagers were beginning to stream into the town from various fields about, and they were looking somewhat displeased with the specters.
“There you are again,” said Jasinta. “Hello, Oliver.”
“Jasi?” said Oliver, freeing his arms from his companions.
“The same.”
“I thought you were…”
“I am, but I must bring home the debt of Thunderer.”
“Hello?” said Frent, a bit offended at this turn of phrase.
“You know each other?” asked Syphir, quite shocked.
“Here is the well.” Jasinta looked at it for a long moment. “It will have an inscription on it, and that inscription will bear the authority to install in you my power.” She stooped and studied the rim of the well. “Interesting. It’s not a very ancient language, and it’s a human one. It says…‘By blood I bought it and not my own, by walls I found it – they of bitterest foe, in time I took it left now all alone, and I rose above my legion. And thus is my boast, and the boast of my house after me, the boast of Burnthede, the boast of its iron, the boast of its steel and copper. For the old ways are not mine, and I would conquer, and I even still conquer in the person of Wey’ – ‘Weytra. Let her come, let it be so.’ Whoever this Weytra is, she now has the power of Thunderer. There is a great deception here.”
Frent made a rather pathetic noise. “What do you mean?”
Syphir laughed. “I have an Aunt Weytra.”
“You do?” said Jasinta, looking surprised. Oliver looked surprised with her.
“Oh, yes, but she passed away two – actually three – hundred years ago.”
“Oh,” said Jasinta. “Then who is this Weytra? I cannot see her. Oh, I also cannot see your Father.” She looked at Frent. “This could be very bad. I shall return.” She vanished.
Late evening. Gills Boulevard.
A great light appeared in Gills Boulevard, and many a person looked on it in wonder. The fog retreated and the gloom was broken. Jasinta emerged from the light, looking about warily. Sunlight flickered both around and seemingly from her.
An old woman walked up to her. “Are we supposed to fall to our knees and serve you forever? I would.”
“No, thank you; have you seen a…?”
“We see any curiosity that passes. The man passed into there and he’s up yonder in Retters Valley. He has a high doom upon him, but I see you’re not one to trifle in dooms. Ha ha.”
“Thank you.” Jasinta navigated into the narrow street. Many awed faces looked up, and an old gentlemen wearing two top hats tipped them at her. She smiled awkwardly at them, and suddenly the entire street was covered in precious ores and gems.
“Oh, sorry,” said Jasinta. She looked about in horror and fled.
“This is pleasurable,” said somebody behind her, and there was great laughter, but those people did not hear the mournful cracking in the depths of the earth, nor the rumor of anger between the clouds.
Jasinta sped on, coming to a wide open area. The earth shook, and several snails bulged into existence on the walls, leaving deep glowing trails as they moved forward. Jasinta sniffed. But then she raised her eyebrows. There was Geoffrey Thunderer kneeling before two tiny children who sat on the street. None of them could feel the sea surging miles away, a powerful rage growing in it against wrongful magic and excited by a final chaotic mistake. Yet somehow they would be untouched.
Retters Valley, Park Circa Sum, Branwyn.
“There’s a sleek cat and no mistake,” said the tiny boy in front of Geoffrey. “Most of the ones I’ve seen are missing an ear or two, and they have the range.”
“The mange, Baveir,” said the girl who sat beside him.
“That’s the one.” Baveir reached out a hand and Lorry pounced on him. The air split with his laughter.
“Now, how did you two end up here?” asked Geoffrey.
“What’s it to you?” asked Baveir shrewdly. “You look like a madishion. With my luck, you prob’ly are one of the ones who eat little tykes – of which number I am one – and use the bones for barber-us experience.”
“No, no. No such thing.”
“Well, you are a madishion.”
“A magician? I suppose I was, yes.”
“Hm. And you’re a rich toff. Do you have a money? We can always use monies. If we don’t have monies we can’t buy things and then we starve and die.”
“I do, actually.” Geoffrey reached into his coat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the girl. “We couldn’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“Somebody would sniff it out.” She shrugged. “Most people here are decent, but…”
“Oh, yes,” said Geoffrey. “How did you end up here?”
“How does anybody end up on the streets, covey?” yowled Baveir. “Poverty, disgrace, and the ills of society. There’s your answer.”
“There it is,” said Geoffrey.
“It’s hard living on the streets,” continued Baveir. “It rains when it’s sunny and it wrecks haddock on young bones. What are you doin’ here anyway, gov? What’s your particular interest?”
“Well, that’s a long story. For now, how do you say I could help you best?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Baveir. “What comes to the top of me head is that you could adopt us – we are poor and friendless and no one would mind – and then I could ask you about banks for years and years. I imagine you know about banks. Old Pete knew about banks, but he got sick and he says he’s lost his voice, so he won’t tell me about banks any more. I want to know about banks ’cause old Pete says they’re bound to fail and soon. So why don’t you adopt us? There’s nothing to it. Just shove us in any old cab and take us to your big house in the country. We won’t mind. Do you have a nanny there? I could use a nanny. Terly’s good at bringing me up, but she’s my sister, and a sister can’t do that motherly influence a chap my age needs. I’m dread fearful I might fall into bad company and become a repredate, as young chaps my age do. Was – were you ever a repredate?” He passed Lorry to his sister. Lorry yawned and licked her hand.
“Consistently,” said Geoffrey. “But as for my big house in the country, I’ve vowed never to return to it.”
“Poor fellow’s stupid-minded,” breathed Baveir with great sorrow.
“Well, magic, you know.”
“Are you really a magician?” Terly asked through a quantity of cat as Lorry climbed over her.
“Well, I was. I gave up the magic – it was awful, something beyond what humans could deal with.”
“Don’t open your cake,” said Baveir sternly, “unless and only if you have something pleasant to say. My sister wants to see magic, so I say you ought to do some. Go on, then.”
A wooden ring snaked around Geoffrey’s finger and a great shimmering black stone grew out of it. All four (including the cat) stared.
“Did you do that?” asked Terly, breathless.
“No,” said Geoffrey. A wisp of silver light shot out of his hand. “I never would have thought.” The silver light spread. Lorry immediately dived for the closest one. The tendrils sprang towards Terly and Baveir and rings like the first, though smaller, appeared on their own hands.
“Excellent,” said Geoffrey, “this is more like it. A plan is beginning to form. What would you say if we went and visited my cousin in Greia? She is an uncommonly nice person, and she’s also a seer – do you know what that means?”
“Here, gov,” said Baveir indignantly, “how young do you think I am?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Greia,” said Terly eagerly.
“Yes.” Baveir scratched his head. “Isn’t that where rich people sit on balconies all day and paint portraits of each other?”
Geoffrey burst into loud laughter. “Yes, indeed it is.”
“Excellent.” Baveir stood up. “I will collect my belongings.” He stooped for a small hat. “A hand up, sister?” He made a show of huffing and puffing as she offered her hand and he pulled her up.
Baveir turned to Geoffrey, beaming. “I use this hat when I’m begging. When a little child like me is begging, it’s best to just walk around with a little hat and say ‘If you please, sir?’ to the gentlemen, or ‘A penny if you please, ma’m?’ to the ladies. But now I won’t have to beg because you’re rich.”
“Well…” began Geoffrey, but Baveir would not suffer him to argue.
“There’s an old man around here who’s awful nice. People pay him lots of monies because he has two hats, and whenever he comes past here, which is very often, he showers it around for everybody. We can take it then because everybody else got some too. Him and Rigglesford is why we survived as long as we did. Have you ever heard of Rigglesford?”
“No.”
“Well, I shan’t tell you until we get to Greia. And I want to take the old man with the two hats. I’m fearful for his health. He has a bad cough, doesn’t he, Terly?”
Terly nodded. “He caught cold, and the air’s bad for him.”
“Well, we’ll take him to my cousin too, by all means.” Geoffrey smiled. “Let us find him.”
Night. The well, Fish Call.
T. H. B. Oliver leaned against the well, tall shiny boots gleaming almost as brightly as his wide, easy grin. “Yes, indeed!” he exclaimed for no particular reason, and not for the first time. “Good job I’m a patient man, what?”
Syphir lay on the ground in the grips of melancholy. Frent stood looking doubtfully at him, and his grandmother and tutor stood looking doubtfully at everything. The villagers – those that were still awake – walked passed them all and shook their heads.
“Better that I should have died on that table so many days ago!” cried Syphir.
“Yesterday, you mean?” said Frent.
“What if she’s injured? What if she’s hurt? And no help is coming. Oh, I’m a wretched man.”
“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed T. H. B. Oliver. “Good job – what’s that?”
An ominous sphere of light approached. Ghosts fled from it, wailing, and some who were not speedy enough evaporated as it neared them. The earth shook periodically as it came nearer.
“Now here’s something to liven the blood,” said Oliver, grinning. “Everybody down, or I’ll put you down myself.” They all ducked. The villagers vanished into their houses as a strange beam of light wove its way through the sky, landing on the well.
The air shimmered with a bright light and rang with a thunderous sound, and suddenly there was a boom behind them. They looked up to see a gigantic metal leg extending in a long arch far above them.
“Are these my relatives?” said a grating, inhuman voice. “Are these the last branches of our noble tree? Do they fade so lightly in the house of smoke? Yes, specifically, I am speaking to you, Syphir Fite, and to you, honorable belligerent.”
Syphir stood up in indignation. “Do you mean to say that you are my Aunt Weytra?”
“Of course I am your Aunt Weytra. Where is your sense, boy?”
“My Aunt Weytra is made out of crude iron?” Syphir said slowly, as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“Yes, and she’s very pleased about it too. Metal – especially iron – and magic do not mingle; everybody knows that. Yet they have now. And, oh ho! Do I see my dear little puppet, the fool Frent?”
“I beg,” stuttered Frent, “I beg to—”
“Well, of course you do. I do not deign to notice your tutor and your grandmother, for they are nothing to my superiority. I am unduly powerful. Hang death and everything to do with it, I say. I am nearly three hundred years old, and I am inconceivably impressive. I am incredibly proud of myself in my actions of the last centuries, and I’m not one to cringe away from boasting. Can you imagine how gratifying it is, after three hundred years of letting an entire house have an ancient being’s power, to take it for yourself? I doubt you can.”
“But, but, but,” said Frent. “I thought this well – my magic…”
“It would have been,” said Weytra coldly. “You now have no magic at all. It’s all mine, stolen through you from Jasinta.” The metal aunt laughed. “Jasinta! Two badly placed bullets nearly destroyed her. She will be nothing. And for so long she has been bound because of your family! I was utterly ingenious.”
“So now,” said Lady Erstella, “you want to take Burnthede for your own, or the world? You do sound a bit crazed, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Yes,” began the metal aunt. But then she screeched. “No! No, no! I care nothing for this planet. I hate this bubble of existence, where we are hidden away from a higher reality. But this will all end when Jasinta does. And thenmy plans go into full action. Shall I detail them?”
“No,” said the tutor. “We all know how evil humans work. It’s all the same.”
“Shall I crush you, little man, beneath my enormous metal foot?”
“No, thank you,” said the tutor, bowing low. “My apologies. Beg pardon. So sorry.”
“Hmmmmmmmm.”
“Wait,” said Syphir. “Do you know where Jasinta is? Did you…?”
“That depends on what you mean. But, now that you mention it, there is no need to wait for her to return. She is exactly where I want her already. Follow me at your peril.” The huge metal body glowed and partially assimilated into the air before diving into the well with a great splash.
Syphir immediately jumped to the edge of the well. “I may be a weak, flippant man, and a lowly, but where matters of the heart are concerned, my honor will uphold me through perilous and absurd circumstances.” He plunged into the well.
“He’ll drown!” bellowed Frent.
Somebody poked their head out of a cottage window. “Here, did your friend just go into our well? And the great metal one?”
“Yes,” said Frent, “they did, fellow.”
“That’s blinkin’ well indecent. He’ll dirty it an’ all. Get him out, while he’s still kicking.” The window was shut up.
“Well, am I not her majesties loyal servant?” T. H. B. Oliver prepared to leap. “Oh, right. Hang it all; I have to take a report back. I can’t do that dead. Poof, what am I worried about, then? Killed in the line of duty! No greater honor.” Into the well he jumped with a massive splash. Frent flew to its side. Oliver was floating there, sopping wet.
“Well, here I am,” said the honorable belligerent. “Boots full of water.”
“Have a hand,” said Frent kindly, holding one out. The man latched hold and hauled himself out.
“Oh, look,” he said.
A few columns of stiff-looking men holding stiff-looking sheep had appeared and they jerkily approached the well. The company stared at them nervously.
“You all get in like you mean it,” said Oliver. “I smell trouble. And I expect I can’t get in as a particular peculiar to my person – probably my military training.” He strode loftily towards the row of stiff sheep-holders, and said, “Gents.”
They advanced. The tutor and Lady Erstella approached the well.
“What, what?” Oliver cried. “Who are you lot, now? State your business, I say! In the queen’s name, if you please.”
One sheep turned into an enormous rusty scythe and its wielder spun it towards Oliver. His sword was drawn and pushing it away in an instant.
“Hm,” said Oliver. He struck a fell swoop and the men all became creatures of shadow, armed and armored in much rusty equipment. They fell upon him and more sprang from the air. The ground rumbled, rocks split, and plants turned black.
“Oi, a little quarter for a chap.” He glided backwards and drew a pistol. “Oi, you lot back there, get in.”
Lady Erstella climbed to the edge of the well and rashly plunged. She vanished. The tutor, after some hesitation, turned from the well and a strange white pattern appeared about his hands. He pointed at the horde of rusty wraiths and some of their number were consumed in a white flash.
Frent stared. “You are a wizard!”
“I have some skill with…these things.” He advanced and cast another sweeping white wave. Suddenly, a familiar, enormous man appeared, scratching his head under his hat.
“Off duty,” he explained shortly. “Rigglesford at your service.” He swung a club at a nearby phantom and utterly vanquished it.
Frent backed toward the well and gripped the rim. He turned and looked into his depths. He crawled onto the rim and swallowed. Suddenly, there was a gunshot behind him and, his nerve frazzled, he fell forwards – and down. The last thing he heard was Oliver calling, “You are very welcome!”
The ocean
Some supernatural force seized Frent and would not release him. It dragged him at terrible speeds through infinite liquid. He was too shocked to breathe or to worry about breathing. Dark scenes passed by in the smallest instants, and the world grew white. Suddenly, he was floating on what he suspected was the middle of the ocean. His eyes adjusted and he saw his grandmother and Syphir were both in the distance, swimming energetically towards a small ship. A great mass of iron protruded briefly from the water near them.
“Hello, Frent,” said a voice near him.
“Hello?” He looked around. A colossal wave threw him for possibly a hundred yards, yet in comfort, and he was gently received back into the ocean, directly on top of a metal protrusion. His grandmother and Syphir were only a few yards away now, but they apparently had no thought of looking backwards; they had nearly reached the ship.
“I can’t swim,” moaned Frent, swimming away from the metal. An enormous hand suddenly grabbed hold of him, but a colossal blue dragon smashed into the hand and caught Frent up, the next instant dropping him on the deck. It fell beside him, only it was of a sudden an equally large snake, and it wrapped itself around the mast and slipped lightly into the water.
Frent stared. A few moments later, Lady Erstella emerged over the side of the ship, followed immediately by Syphir. He looked repulsed at using a snake as a rope, especially when it morphed yet again, and became a grim middle-aged woman bearing a cutlass.
“My apologies,” he stammered.
“I won’t have apologies. We must defend Jasinta.”
“She isn’t here,” said Syphir aimlessly.
“I will take you to her.”
Salva led the way to a door which opened to a staircase. “Now, the ship is going to start tossing in the waves again, and you’ll just have to be accustomed to it. The hideous iron blob outside will be stayed for a short while because of the way in which things operate. Jasinta will not be expecting us. Poor thing thinks she has to run all around the world.”
She opened a door at the bottom of the stairs and the floor began rolling beneath them. Frent stumbled over to look through the doorway, but there was no light beyond it.
“No,” said Salva, “this door does not lead to the outer void; it’s just very dark out here.” She stepped through and vanished, and the others followed her cautiously. The ground no longer rolled. There was some light in one direction and in that direction Salva went. The place was made of some heavily interlocked white woody material. Visible around a corner was the edge of a pool, a very small pool, it so happened, behind which was a stone chair. A large rough chamber spread out around these two items. Two passageways led off from this chamber, one glowing a flickering red and one periodically flashing a brilliant white. Mere moments after they entered the chamber, Jasinta appeared in the chair, looking dazed. She was not wearing any bandages. Complex symbols were being woven on her wrists and they glowed like fire.
“You are alive still?” asked Syphir anxiously.
“Probably,” replied Jasinta. “I don’t know much right now. The main part of my consciousness is away. Salva, do you have any tea?”
“No.”
There was a deep thud in the distance. Then a huge metal hand pushed through the floor and faded. A specter much like the ones with the scythes appeared over the hole, but this one looked very much like an elderly aunt, though not a very nice one. She glided towards Jasinta.
“I have waited a long time for this day. See how masterfully a house has been exploited over centuries to ensnare you. See how I am the cumulative power that can overthrow something so ancient and so fundamental as your life. I find it fascinating. I daily thank my ancestors for their ruthless intelligence.” She reached out a hand and pushed against a sphere like glass that appeared around Jasinta. It grew red where she pushed and started to crack.
“Go on, then,” shouted Syphir. “You’ll have to get past me.” He swaggered over.
“What is this? A member of my own house?”
“No,” said Frent, as if in a trance, “take me.”
“Well, that would be amusing.”
“But first,” said Frent’s grandmother, “I’d like you to hear my claim.”
“Your what?” she turned, looking legitimately confused.
“I too am of the house of Thunderer.”
“By marriage only, I think.”
“I, dear madam, am an authoritative member of my house. My son and grandson may have given up their potency and will, but I have given up neither.”
“That is a very good point,” said Salva thoughtfully.
A greatsword suddenly appeared in Weytra’s hand, and she ripped through the air towards Erstella. Syphir and then Frent lunged after her but fell on their faces, and she swung the sword.
A scepter appeared in Erstella’s hand, and the sword clanged off, bursting into mist.
“I should never have included scepters in the curse,” muttered Weytra, falling back.
Lady Erstella was not inactive. She raised the staff and Jasinta winced markedly. The symbols on her wrists glowed with fervent intensity. An enormous ape with a cutlass stood suddenly in front of Weytra.
Erstella spoke. “By the authority vested in me et cetera et cetera, I utterly cast down the design of this Weytra (as far as I am able), and I blot out utterly the words on the well which we have just seen and nullify the power thereof or any curse connected to those words. In short, I eradicate the curse and restore things to a more perfect order in any way in which my authority has relevancy. So be it.”
Nothing very definite happened immediately, but Weytra seemed to diminish with every word. The staff suddenly pulsed blue and shattered, and with it shattered Jasinta’s chair. The earth shook, and Weytra fell backwards with a great trailing haze. Rocks and dirt dropped into the chamber, and the floor shuddered.
“One thing remains, I think,” said Salva, suddenly in the form of a human again. “There is much of the Thunderer way of life that depends on the power, and Frent, I perceive, is now the lord of that estate. Do you give it up to whatever judgment may naturally befall it?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” moaned Weytra.
Frent looked very troubled. He opened his mouth. Syphir gulped. Frent opened his mouth further. “Will my house tumble?”
Syphir was dismayed. “You think of something like that in a time like this?”
Salva shrugged. “I really couldn’t say.”
“And the servants?” Frent shifted his weight. “They would be safe?”
Syphir looked rather ashamed. “Ah, yes, forgot about that.”
Salva looked rather amazed. “Ah, yes,” she said.
Jasinta rose painfully from her broken chair. Her wrists no longer had anything red or glowing on them. There was a blurred movement and suddenly another Jasinta stood in the room, a hand to her bandages. In a moment, the Jasinta who had been seated disappeared in a whirlwind of nothing definable, and Jasinta breathed a long breath. “Things are much better now. I think I can risk removing your servants from your house. Your father is doing quite well.”
Frent gulped. “That’s good – very. Kindly do displace the servants, if you will.”
Jasinta disappeared for several seconds, and then flickered back into existence, stumbling. “There.”
Frent gulped again. “I give up my estate to the natural judgments.”
Jasinta shimmered, and she looked apologetic. “Well. It was judged.” The room cracked and seemed brighter, but then Weytra rose.
“And so passed my glorious plan, but I was prepared for eventualities. Yes, indeed I was. You ought to know how impressive I am, with the way I can toss magic authority about.”
“Quite,” said Jasinta quietly.
Salva manged to quite convincingly draw her cutlass, in spite of the fact that it was already drawn.
Weytra laughed. “This circumstance hastens my schemes, and I tap into my fullest strength. No sword could prevail against me. Also, I summon my trusty slaves.” The rusty specters burst into existence on the other side of the room, and the honorable belligerent Oliver fell from one, Inspector Rigglesford burst through another, and a glowing tutor spun through several, obliterating two. The wraiths were a much reduced and not very impressive force.
“Give me a sword,” said Syphir grimly. “We can take them!”
“Well, allow me to show my hand a bit, then.” Weytra expanded a little and a horde of rusty ghosts and sundry compilations of organic material – this largely being a variety of bones – rose up behind her. “And the battle is met!”
Extremely late night. Gardet ser Haveleig. Greia.
Geoffrey F. Thunderer appeared in Greia. A swirl of silver wrapped around him and whipped Terly, Baveir, and the old man of two hats out of the air. They all stared at the garden about them. Warm-colored flowers were artistically placed, short and tall trees appeared just exactly where they might be desired, and herbs grew in charmingly arranged baskets. Some places were wide open, some were shady and covered in velvety leaves, and everywhere the grass was trim and soft. A stone structure had been thoughtfully set encircling the garden, largely appearing as a wall, but a little ways away rising up into a large stone house, a cheerful glow shining from the windows. The delicate glass doors facing them were wide open, as were the several wide, arched windows. A gravel expanse extended from the house, surrounding a little pool with two sculptures shaped cunningly like hares. These sat staring at each other, and water tumbled lazily off their backs.
The jolly face of a middle-aged man appeared through some bushes. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “Visitors.” His head disappeared, and he came jigging into sight. “Spies from Burnthede! Is that not my esteemed cousin-in-law? And you three I don’t believe I have ever met. My name is Caerto. I can’t help it, but it is.”
“Poor beggars, that’s who we are,” said the old man of the hats, “desperate characters.”
“I’m Baveir and this is Terly,” said the little fellow with dignity. “We are not desperate, but we are very poor.”
“Well, how excellent you landed here! Nobody’s poor in Greia!”
“Well,” said Geoffrey. “The matter of poverty in Greia is…”
“Don’t you worry about any of your Burnthede pride. We don’t hold with such stuff in Greia. Dear, dear. Geoffrey, look at yourself, man. I glance properly at you now, and you look at least forty-seven. What have you been doing to yourself? Now, you’ll be wanting to see the fleur llonnath of my heart. My darling wife!” He stayed still a moment, with his hand pressed dramatically to his chest, before trilling, “¡Amairte!”
Forthwith, there was a person of very radiant appearance emerging from the house. She looked at the gathering for a moment, and then beamed. “¡D'cosin amtir!” she cried, rushing over the gravel like one born to such things despite her uncommonly thin shoes.
Geoffrey went forward to meet her, and everybody else followed him. In a moment, she had seized each of them (excluding her husband) by the arms and had granted each of them (excluding her husband) a kiss on each cheek. She seemed to be utterly thrilled.
“Geoffrey!” she said. “You’ve been around far too much magic. And you three? You want some crackers. My name is Lladh-Sairpe, but I’m called Cetuil. What are those rings? Geoffrey, this is really excellent. You’ve finally settled down properly with magic. Those are really nice.”
“I don’t know where they come from,” said Geoffrey, holding up the ring. “But the magic feels purer.”
“I think the magic feels the same,” returned Cetuil. “You feel purer using it.”
Geoffrey didn’t reply, but Cetuil was already guiding them irresistibly to a little table. “Let’s have tea!” she said. “Unless you want to sleep. Sleep anywhere you like.” She grinned at Geoffrey. “Some major thing is happening in the core of the world. I think a great shadow has passed from your house. It still lives, though, and my sight of it is rather cloudy. Your mother and son have done very great things today.”
“Have they really?” said Geoffrey, looking troubled.
A possibly subterranean chamber, an indeterminate location.
The battle was most definitely, most loudly, and most violently met. The onslaught of swishing and screeching metallic decay was defied by a bright but tremulous defense. T. H. B. Oliver exuded bravado as he performed great feats of arms, but Salva repulsed the foe with a lethal calm. Frent and Syphir stood back to back, Frent holding a rapier borrowed off of Oliver, and Syphir holding a borrowed pistol. Frent was amazed and comforted to find energy trailing through his arms, infusing the sword with an inspiring vanquishing effect. Syphir did not seem to be having any such fair fortune, but the tutor stood nearby manufacturing great white arcs that conveniently kept most of the specters and some of the skeletal forces at bay.
Inspector Rigglesford seemed to favor any foe composed of bones and everywhere his baton could be seen in the act of pulverizing.
Jasinta had disappeared into the shadows some time ago and Lady Erstella had followed her. Weytra had also done so.
A huge burly thing made from stones pushed though the battle and crashed into Frent. He fell with a cry, and his rapier disappeared into a howling mass of spirits. A stone fist swung toward his head, but Inspector Rigglesford appeared, shoving aside the blow. Another fist struck the policeman down, and he took the opportunity to adjust his helmet.
“No hard feelings,” he said, absolutely brutalizing what could be considered the thing’s knee. It stumbled and crashed into more howling spirits. In the far reaches of the chamber, there was a sudden fiery glow, a tremendous conflagration, and a tidal wave of the enemy, burning and evaporating as they were flung through the air. A great blue dragon crouched there, panting heavily and smoking.
The horde stilled and cowered back into the opposite side of the chamber. Inspector Rigglesford heaved Frent to his feet.
“That’s right,” said the dragon in a roughly Salva-like voice. “Settle down. Whew!” She lowered her head tiredly. The honorable belligerent limped out of the horde.
“Nasty blighters,” he said.
Everybody waited as if expecting something different to happen, and it did. There was a definitively evil screech, and Jasinta crashed to the ground in a dark shockwave. Frent’s grandmother came flying down after her, but a soft white glow from around Jasinta slowed her descent to quite a comfortable speed.
Weytra appeared, floating above them with random bits of metal twisting out of and around her. She reached downwards and sparkling darkness glimmered and crashed in a monumental pillar toward Jasinta. The light of the room faded and failed. But a spark appeared over Jasinta and then raged upwards, prevailing against the murk and smashing against the ceiling in myriad colors, and Jasinta was standing. Frent found himself and his companions being hurled powerfully towards Salva, who dropped her dragon guise. In the midst of the splendor, Weytra’s dark shape was hurled to the other side of the chamber and her entire army disintegrated in a great wave. Jasinta focused the light with a hand, and Weytra herself fell to the floor and struggled forward, flinging back the magic, but still it approached her. A dark force burst from her hand and the two opposing powers vied erratically for dominance.
“You cannot defeat me,” stated Jasinta.
“Of course I can’t. Your rule is absolute in this pathetic cave. Accordingly, I don’t mean to conquer you – just to fracture the world a little.” The earth cracked as she spoke, and a thin chasm was rent in the floor.
“Oh,” said Jasinta, “yes.”
“And also to show you that I am a powerful enemy, not a mere trifling human.”
“Which you have effectively done.” Jasinta pushed the light a little closer.
“But my true strength is not in enchantment, and that is the most important point. I have conquered you in one area, and very soon you will find out how.” Her darkness expanded. “I do admire you, though, and your friends. There’s merely seven of them and you, and none of them harmed. I revere that.”
Jasinta said nothing. Tendrils of red were becoming more prominent in the energy bursting from her. Weytra finally seemed to be truly struggling as her darkness was reduced to a small, swirling sphere. The floor around her was in an instant destroyed as the intensity of the onslaught became greater.
“And we’re done!” said Weytra. She held up a hand, and Jasinta stopped her attack, releasing it as a weak shockwave that bounced quickly around the room. The lighting returned to normal.
Weytra stomped and the floor disappeared around her. “We’ll meet again.” She fell and vanished in a multitude of purple rays.
Salva stalked up to Jasinta. “That,” she said, looking down into the hole, “is, in fact, the outer void.”
Jasinta bent next to it. “Maybe.” The walls and ceiling of the chamber began to crumble and fall. “I’ll take us out.” Suddenly, they all stood on the deck of the ship. Jasinta looked at them worriedly. “She has started a war. The queen has just allowed a declaration against Kadene.”
“Kadene!” exclaimed T. H. B. Oliver. “Impossible. There was war brewing, but it wasn’t…Kadene is one of the closest allies of Greia. We would never attack a friendly nation.”
“Nevertheless, the declaration is swiftly being enacted. Dark powers and twisted things of metal have been active in Kadene, and trade relations with them have been turning cold; Burnthede feels it must face the threat.”
“The audacity of my aunt!” Oliver cried. “Kadene? I’m upset. I am truly upset. Oh, I hope we don’t end up fighting Greia. Allies for nearly three hundred years now! This is disturbing.”
“Well, glad to help and all,” said Inspector Rigglesford. “It’s nearly my time back in Branwyn. Bless me, I haven’t slept a wink tonight.” He disappeared before anybody could respond.
“I had better report back to her majesty,” said Oliver, looking seriously worried. “Invading Kadene! Who would have thought? Where are we?”
Jasinta didn’t tell him. “Shall I send you back to Branwyn?”
“Oh, yes. Please do.”
She threw a hand forward and he disappeared with a snap, waving.
Jasinta looked nervous. “I will take you all back to your – your estate.”
Lady Erstella grinned. “We’ll have to see what happened to it.”
Branwyn faded around them, and they remained in a bit of a haze for a little while.
“Look,” said Jasinta’s voice, “I am sorry.”
“What—?” began Frent.
The lawn of the Thunderer estate was still immaculate. But some other things were evidently not so well off. In front of them was utter destruction and chaos. Stone, wood, furniture, countless household implements, and almost everything else imaginable was spread out in a perfect circle, looking quite absurd in the moonlight. Numerous servants stood about in their night attire, discussing and looking shocked. Some of them, though, were congregating a little ways away from the destruction and they seemed to be having a picnic. A very few of them were sleeping in their beds, apparently oblivious of their relocation to the outdoors.
“The stable and the tool-shed over there are still standing,” ventured Jasinta.
Frent worked his jaw grimly, and looked. “Yes,” he said in a very controlled voice, “yes, that is true. They are.”
“I didn’t know something like this would happen—your ancestors must really have, well…”
Syphir walked up, beaming. “Look at this!” he said, clapping Frent on the back. “A whole new canvas! You can paint on it a glorious mansion of your own invention.”
“Well,” said a man’s voice nearby. Everybody turned towards the sound. It was Geoffrey Thunder’s estate manager. “Sir, I beg leave to inform you that you have no money.”
“What?” whimpered Frent.
“Well, yesterday I informed your father that practically every interest this estate has had suffered several catastrophes of a nominally natural nature.”
“What?” said Frent and Jasinta simultaneously.
“And now, behold this destruction. Still, something of value may be salvaged from it. Of course it could. Oh, but there is also the matter of the bank. Nobody knows what happened but your bank has both failed and turned into a tea shop. It almost sounds as if most of its assets simply disappeared.”
“Incredible!” cried Syphir.
“Which,” said the man, “brings us to the final point. The Thunderer crops have been leveled, the mines have vanished and imploded, and – oh yes – rumor has it that there is a large governmental scandal involving your family. Fortunately, that will probably be hushed up. Commoners are saying that your family has been controlling the monarch for ages. That’s all. I’d say some magician has cursed you, if you asked me professionally. I’m going back to Branwyn now. If you recover your fortune, you know I am willing to return to your service.” He bowed and walked off.
Frent began to laugh hysterically. Several servants looked over. Syphir pounded his back.
“I really didn’t want—” began Jasinta miserably.
“Well,” laughed Frent, “there it is! Cheerio! G’day!”
“The entirety of this situation has become currputed and too many people were punished.” Jasinta looked thoughtful. “When I first came to Burnthede, I broke several rules quite horribly, punishing your house, and they must be repaired. There is also the matter of Weytra. If I were given leave to center my operations from your estate, I could help rebuild it.”
“That is a very good idea,” said Syphir instantly. He switched to a loud, wheedling whisper in Frent’s ear. “And she can keep you all safe from the evil aunt; you’re certain to be in Aunt’s particular interest.”
“Well,” said Frent to Jasinta. “None of this was your fault, really. We should be the ones to deal with the consequences.”
Syphir was astounded.
Lady Erstella fervently continued Frent’s line of thought. “The house of Thunderer always was a disgrace, and we scraped in miserable profits and connections in horrible quantity. It is small wonder and right that something like this came of it. As for me, though, I would be extremely pleased if you stayed about no matter what follows, dear.”
“Of course you would!” exclaimed Syphir, recovering his senses. “So would tutor!”
“My name,” said the tutor, “is Mr. Petros.”
“Well, there.” Syphir grinned broadly. “It’s decided. Eh, Frent?”
“Well, I…”
“Good.” Syphir looked enormously pleased. “Now, I had better go home. But where will you all…? I have far too many sisters at home to offer you any guest-room.”
“Am I staying on the grounds?” Jasinta stretched her hands. “A great part of my effort in rebuilding would be spent for your servants, who may depend on this estate.”
“Well,” said Frent. “I suppose…”
“Of course you may stay on the grounds!” said Erstella. “And welcome!”
“And I may build myself a very small…?”
“Oh, naturally,” said Erstella.
“This may cause general grief later.” Jasinta turned towards the ruin and vanished. Suddenly, boards began shifting, stones and bricks tumbled over each other, and glass reassembled at select spots in the air. All the servants (including the ones that had been sleeping) turned from what they were doing and watched in amazed enjoyment. A foundation came together, walls came up, windows and doors were placed, balconies sprang outwards, paint spread, several chimneys were constructed, a roof was soon rushing forth from under them, and everywhere uncountable small changes were made. Across the grounds, paths and roads were smoothed and repaired, plants sprang up to more than their usual vigor, and in the distance an orchard that had been there the day before was remade.
“But this is wonderful,” cried Frent. Syphir collapsed beside him, unable to manage his exuberance. The tutor had fallen asleep where he sat.. Lady Erstella was smiling widely.
The reconstruction continued going expeditiously. The house and grounds were not nearly as elaborate as they had been, and they looked much more old-fashioned – indeed quite like they had nearly three hundred years ago – but they were somehow much nicer. Several new structures with indeterminate uses were springing up, and as a final astonishment, Jasinta’s entire ship glided down into the lawn, a large bird fluttering around it, and quickly morphed into a quaint little group of buildings with a sparkling fountain in their midst. By this fountain Jasinta appeared, and the first rays of sunrise appeared with her. Great was the applause, and greater still were the many three cheers, when those rays fell upon the last small adjustment of the manor, and the estate was rebuilt.
Nearby.
Dawn revealed someone else on that lawn, now uncloaked by darkness, yet not seen by any of those he was watching. He was a figure of indeterminate age, and the way he stood he could have been any passer-by who happened to see a house being repaired by magic. Yet there was something in his pale face, just visible in the early light, something in his keen eyes, glinting with a light seemingly all their own, and something in his right hand, upon which was set a silver ring with a large, dark stone. There was something still more in the black robe he wore and the orange pendant about his neck. He bent down and grasped a thick walking stick with his ringed hand.
“Do you think I’m a threat to you?” he said quietly.
A vaguely defined shade appeared in the air, shifting the leaves in the forest. “Do you know who I am?”
“You should know who I am, Weytra.”
Weytra hesitated. “You are nobody. I don’t know why—”
“I do know why. Despite the baseness of your nature, your magic is purer than mine, and you fear that.”
“You should tremble before me. I will conquer this world.”
“And then all the others. Yes, I know.”
“Who do you think you are, talking to me? I will destroy you if you do not leave this place.”
“Of course,” said the man, “you could. But none of this concerns me; we’re talking about my daughter.”
Weytra let out a long breath, and she fell to the ground. “Jasinta.”
“Very good. Do not move against her – not yet.” He bent and picked up a fistful of dirt. “Strange that I should fear this. There is something in this earth that is not right. I wonder if your war will improve it – because if it doesn’t, perhaps its just as well your ambition reaches beyond this world. Perhaps one of us will survive.”
