The Making of a Mage King: White Star (2 page)

It took Sean and his men eleven more days to reach the garrison city of Caen, during which time the horses settled down more, but then Sean was leading everyone at a pounding pace that alternated between a lope and a fast walk; nobody had much energy left for trouble. They stopped for lunch for as long as he could stand still, and later he made himself stop as soon as the sun touched the western horizon. It was early, but they needed rest. Sean was the only one with a fire up his ass, so while the rest settled the horses and relaxed, Sean tried to burn off his excess energy with his swords. Now that they were moving, he seemed driven. He felt like a wildfire running before a high wind, or a surfer caught in a Bore tide. If he had been traveling on his own, he felt certain that he wouldn’t have stopped until he fell from his horse, or his horse fell from under him.

As soon as the city came into sight, Sean ordered camp to be set up; he then authorized a rotating leave. Orders of the day: keep a peaceful profile, and keep an ear out about the nobility. Try to figure out where they could be found. In the meantime, he headed directly into town himself with Charles tight on his heels. When Larry, Jenny and Mattie noticed them leaving the camp, they joined them.

As the five of them entered the gate, Charles drifted away from them and was out of sight by the time they reached the edge of the market square. Most everyone they passed stopped what they were doing to watch them go by; strangers were always interesting. When they merely strolled down the street, the people returned to their tasks.

As they were eating a small lunch at an open-air café, a man in light armor stopped at their table. “You’re new in town. What’s your business? What’re you hanging around for?”

“We’re looking for some friends of ours,” Sean replied.

“And who might these friends be?” asked the man who might be a constable, his authority was difficult to discern since he wore no crest or mark of rank.

“And who are you to need to know our business?” asked Sean, with forced amiability.

The guard looked hard at Sean, then around at the rest of them. Jenny and Mattie were obviously women, but they were dressed much like their male companions: leather pants and leather shirt, a little heavier than necessary for clothes, and though Mattie and Jenny didn’t carry swords, they both had an evil looking knife hanging from their belts. “You look like trouble to me, and it’s my business to keep an eye out for trouble. How long do you plan to stay in town?”

“You’ll get no trouble from us unless someone else starts it, and we’ll stay as long as we have to, to find our friends,” said Sean as he lounged back in his chair.

“Now look here, mister…” Then he noticed the crest that was on all of their shoulders. Sean had elected to come here first as a common soldier in order to gage the reaction of the town’s people to his men. “You’re one of
them
, aren’t you? I don’t care what your business is; you get yourself and your friends here out of town. You’re not welcome. You’ve caused enough trouble around here just by existing.” None of them moved a muscle to comply or even to protest. The man stepped back and made as if to draw his sword. “Are you going to leave?”

“No, we’re not,” said Sean. “Why don’t you go get your commander? I think I might like to speak with him.”

“Captain General Basse ain’t going to want anything to do with the likes of you,” said the man, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

Sean almost burst out with a loud guffaw at that. Basse was exactly who he was looking for, but he wasn’t about to tell that to this oaf. “Why don’t you let him decide that? My name is Seanad Ruhin; he should recognize the name. We’ll wait here.”

After the man had huffed himself out of sight, Sean turned to Larry. “I didn’t expect to find Basse on the first try.”

“You’re looking for the commander of the garrison?” asked Larry. “Are you sure you have the right name?”

“It’s the right name, but perhaps it won’t be the right man. We’ll see when he gets here,” Sean replied.

“Do you think he’ll come?” asked Jenny.

“If my name doesn’t bring him, curiosity will, I think,” Sean replied, hoping it was true. When the barmaid came back, they ordered a pitcher of beer. At the moment, waiting seemed to be the best thing to do.

As they sat there, Sean noticed several of his men filtering through the square sampling the wears and talking to the people. He was pleased to see that they seemed to be received amiably. He could see a few smiles and some laughter. He spotted Charles once too, but he wasn’t talking to anyone at the time.

After three hours, no one had come to their table and the café staff was getting irritated with them just sitting there.

They left the café and headed toward the port. The smell of fish greeted them long before the docks came into view. As they strolled along the length of the dock, Sean was impressed by the number of slips he saw. They were nearly all empty and the activity on the docks was at a minimum; apparently, the fishermen were all out fishing. Elias had taken Sean to the docks on the south end of New York City once and there was no comparison, but then the purpose of each dock was also drastically different. The visible rocks out beyond the breakers were the reason there were no bigger ships docking here.

An old woman tottered out to meet them. “White Star, White Star,” she said with some difficulty. It looked like she had no teeth. She came right up to Sean and patted her hands on his chest. “White Star, will you bless my grandson? Both of his parents were taken by the sea and I’m getting so old. Bless him, White Star, for luck. Let him have a longer life than his father.”

A blessing? No one had ever asked him for a blessing before. Sean had healed people, some of them deeper than anyone thought possible, but a blessing? How do you do a blessing? And how did she know who he was?

As he puzzled over this, he let the old woman pull him along. She led them into a narrow, two-story hovel. The building was squeezed between other buildings that provided an assortment of purposes connected to the fishing industry, and this one was no different. Though the building looked like it didn’t stand a chance of remaining upright on its own; it was warm inside.

The ground floor was hung thickly with fishing nets of all kinds. Most of them looked like they were here for repairs, but there was a few that looked to be new.

The woman led Sean through the maze of nets to a set of rickety stairs at the back. As she opened the door at the top, the smell of a hearty fish stew greeted them, but what also greeted them was the sight of a small boy of about five or six sitting in the middle of the floor.

“A’ma?” he asked, as he looked in their direction with sightless eyes.

“Yes, Shim,” said the old woman. “I’ve brought the White Star. He’s going to bless you.”

The boy stood and came over to them. As he got closer, Sean could see that there was no hope for his eyes. They were shriveled and wrinkled like two discolored raisins set in his head. Regardless, he approached them unerringly until he could grasp his grandmot
her’s skirts.

Sean knelt in front of him and cupped his cheek, then suddenly he drifted in an otherness that left him in the background while another stepped forward. “
Danio Shim, mahlē yōhō dō galêeo shumutàlē.
” With that, Sean touched his thumb between the boy’s eyebrows. Then the otherness was gone and Sean was forced to drop his hand to the floor to keep his balance. Dimly, almost like an indistinct echo, he understood what he had said, ‘Mr. Shim, may luck shadow all of your days.’
Mr.
was a dim translation of the word
danio
; a more accurate meaning would be
man of the family
.

As Sean pulled himself stiffly to his feet, he felt Larry’s fist grip his shirt from behind to lend him much needed balance without being noticed.

The old woman was hugging the boy who was still rubbing the spot between his brows. Left behind by Sean’s thumb was a light brown oval much like Hélène’s mark, except for the shape. “Oh, Lord,” said the old woman in a reverent whisper. “Oh White Star, thank you. Thank you so very much. Such a blessing will see him far from the docks and far from the sea. Thank you, thank you.”

Sean cupped the boy’s cheek again. “That it may well do, a’ma, but it is no guarantee of a long life.” He was not sure the old woman registered his cautionary words. She was holding and rocking her grandson with tears rolling down her face. The boy was touching the wet with his small fingers as he patted her cheek, so Sean and his friends retreated quietly.

Larry kept his fist snagged in Sean’s shirt until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Once they were outside, he asked, “What did you say? You did it again…you spoke that old language.”

“I need a drink,” said Sean. “All I said was ‘may luck shadow your days’, or something like that. Damn, that was weird.” Sean shoved his fingers through his hair; it was starting to get long again.

They all made their way back to the main part of town to find that his men, those who were in town, had been rounded up and disarmed. They had been grouped into a single clump while the man who had spoken to them at the café dug through them roughly, most likely looking for Sean. A man who stood slightly to the side and aloof from the proceedings.

“Basse,” called Sean over the uneasy hubbub of the crowd. The man spun around at the sound of his name. “I’ve been looking for you.” Sean strode directly up to him; his grandfather’s heavy swords were suddenly a noticeable weight at his hips. Sean didn’t stop until he was almost literally toe-to-toe with him. “What took you so long?”

“I had a problem to solve,” he replied calmly as he studied Sean’s face.

“Did you solve it?” The two of them could have been twins if there hadn’t been ten years difference in their ages.

“Not yet. We need to talk,” he said quietly for Sean’s ears only.

Sean reached up and rested a hand on Basse’s shoulder, then he sent his men and their weapons back to the camp. They would likely suit up and return with reinforcements, but that was okay; it would keep Basse and his men honest. Basse swayed under his hand. Sean had used much of Basse’s energy to teleport his men, which put Basse at a disadvantage and brought him down a peg, without advertising the fact to his men. Quietly Sean said, “I agree. Lead the way.”

Basse’s men were in confusion with the sudden disappearance of the fifteen some odd men they had been guarding, but he waved them to silence, then led off down another street. When they reached the gates to the garrison, Basse dismissed his men completely and led them into the building and to a room that could only be his office. He left again for a few moments to return with a couple more chairs, then he locked the door.

After they were all seated, he said, “You’re him, aren’t you, the White Star? My uncle talks of nothing else. He says he saw you at the gathering outside of Ruhin; he says you danced the Dance. He says that only the White Star could do the things you did.”

“I don’t know what all your uncle saw, but yes, I’m him, I’m Seanad Éireann Barleduc-Ruhin.”

The man rocked back as Sean recited his name, but it didn’t stop him. “What are you doing here? What do you want with me?”

“It’s my intention to reinstate the political structure that was in place under my grandfather. If your uncle is the head of your family then I need to speak with him.”

“You can’t just reinstate the old nobility on your say so. There are too many people who like things the way they are.”

“It’s my hope that I’ll be able to tell who such people are and eliminate them from the mix. Tomorrow, I’ll ride into town displaying my colors for all to see. You bring your uncle or your father here. Make sure your men are available to watch my entrance.”

“You think your entrance will spark a fight?” asked Basse.

“Men who are loyal to you will gather to protect where you are. Men who are here for power and greed will, at the very least, push to attack, provided they don’t desert outright,” Sean replied.

“You’re sure of this?” asked Basse.

Sean rethought his plan, then nodded. “Pretty sure.” He didn’t tell Basse that he would have several troops stationed in and around the town to forestall any other trouble.

“What about me?” asked Basse.

“What about you? You’re in command here. I couldn’t ask for a better commander. Unless you have a problem with my rule, I’m happy to leave you in command.”

They didn’t talk much longer; Sean didn’t want his men to come charging into town and find nothing. He was sure Charles would know exactly where he was, and he would tell them if they found him. Sean also wanted to hear what Charles had learned from the town’s underworld.
I wonder just how different the truth of the underworld is from the truth I see.

Sean met his men on the edge of the market square. They brought spare mounts for all of them, but Prince wasn’t among them. When he took the reins from Cordan, he said, “Your beast wasn’t in a cooperative mood and we were in a hurry.”

Sean shrugged and mounted, using the move to look for Charles. Everyone in the market square was watching them, but he saw no sign of Charles.
I hope he’s not in trouble.