Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1) (20 page)

“Mikel!”

He didn’t recognize the male voice but he knew the jailers wouldn’t bother with first names.

“Who are you?”

The door swung open there was a Trader guard in steel armor, he saw some insignia on his shoulders glinting in the torch light.

“I am Major Rayan Valis. A cousin of Tei. I’m getting you out of here. Can you handle a sword?”
 

“Uh yeah. Sure.” But he wasn’t sure. Still it was better than rotting in the cell.

Back at the Center he had been trained in the use of a sword by Master Oma. He always wondered where she learned to fight like that.

She had said,
Mikel, use your intelligence and make the most of what is about you, you may not have the years of practice but you can be oh so creative. Use that. Yes, being 'creative' means fighting dirty. If that bothers you then think how a sword in your gut would bother you
.

Rayan led the way. Down the corridor lay one of the jailers, unconscious, minus his keys. Mikel followed stiffly at first, he had been in that cramped place for so long his muscles weren't used to such activity. This time his eyes were completely dark adapted and he saw exactly the path he had taken. He also got a good idea of the layout. He wanted to forget it but he knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. They had climbed some stairs and had reached a small room that was the entrance to the dungeon. Several men stood before them, the jailers, with swords drawn, Rayan seemed surprised.

The Head Jailer, his old friend, headed towards Mikel while the other two took on Rayan.

Mikel blocked the first blow from the jailer. The jailer’s sword was slightly shorter than Mikel’s but his reach probably compensated. Mikel was barefoot, the jailer wore ragged shoes: advantage to Mikel. He took in the rest of the room as he jumped back from the clash of swords. A lit brazier to his right, stinking slops or urine covering some of the cobble stones. Some wooden fixtures fastened to the walls. Not much to work with. The jailer had no armor thankfully.

The jailer started to crouch. He was making himself a small target but ready to pounce. He leapt at Mikel. Mikel barely parried. He grabbed the jailer’s sword wrist. He in turn clamped his teeth on Mikel’s hand. Mikel placed his right foot on the outside of the jailer's left leg then pushed putting the jailer off balance. He spun right with the jailer pushing the jailers head onto the fiery brazier. The jailer screamed and jumped back swatting at his smoldering hair. Mikel advanced on him. Parry, parry. He grabbed the other’s wrist again but this time he knew the jailer was standing on the slops in worn shoes, he kicked the jailers foot and he started to slip down and back. This opened some space between them and Mikel brought down his sword. The man saw that he was falling onto a sword aimed at his throat but it was too late to do anything. He gave Mikel a fleeting glimpse of fear or pleading then the blade sliced his carotid artery and Mikel was blinded by a spray of blood. He felt the man go limp as he vainly clutched his throat. He let him go and stepped back panting and shaking.

“Well done, young Wizard,” said Rayan, standing over the still writhing bodies of the other two.

Mikel and Rayan ran quickly up the steps to the fourth floor. There was no way to know what had happened on the other side of the door, it was some thick heavy hardwood, no sound penetrated it. They barged in, fingers crossed.

Before them were the twelve Councillors, Tei and some soldiers, some of them guards and others with different armor.

“You must step down! Now!” Tei yelled. She was intimidating, he had never seen her like this.

Rayan spoke up, “You no longer have the support of the Castle guard, Olen. If you choose to act against us they will respond accordingly.”

Olen stood, in his fine robes, proudly defying the usurpers. Some of the guards behind Olen, probably from his clan, drew their swords but they looked at each other, confused and uncertain looking for support and not getting any.

“You have put Tanten in danger. We must act quickly to reassure Sanfran.” Ray’s face was hard, and now there was menace in his voice.

Olen motioned to the guards behind him. They sheathed their swords. Then with a loud sigh he fell back into his seat. He spoke, shaken and defeated.

“Of course. All right then. I nominate Tei as my replacement.” Before anyone could react he stood, straightened, and addressed them in an almost regal tone, “Tei Lin Valis, I hereby nominate you as Head Councillor of Tanten until elections can be conducted.”

“Olen. Please do not mock me,” she said.

“I do not mock you at all. Although I have misgivings about your family you have always acted honorably. And decisively. We need decisiveness and intelligence now. I hope you are right, Tei. Everything rests on you now.”

Rayan, looked at Mikel, perhaps he saw that he was giddy, perhaps pale. He led him from the room to a place where he would get cleaned and fed.

He was left in the Valis household. He had a chance to observe what home life was like for the Traders. Those who were not on Caravan or other business assisted with various duties. Generally, it was expected that all family members would help, though if someone had special skills, they tended to be favored. Tei refused to let her sister Karina cook. ‘Self preservation,’ she whispered. Apparently the best cooks were her mother and her younger brother. He never did work out how many were in the house: Tei had two brothers and a sister, all younger. There were several aunts and uncles, but they only visited irregularly, apparently they had their own homes. Tei confided that some of them had girlfriends or boyfriends on the side. It was accepted, but private. Nothing to get worked up about.

The Trader culture did resemble that of the Center. Though in Lind families were a bit smaller. He presumed the other similarities were a result of their common origin. Even Bethor and the Cities were not that different. He wondered if all human cultures in the past were like this, that would be something to investigate if he got a chance to look through the Library.

Mikel was in a daze, he barely remembered stepping into the bath or even the food he had been given, even as he was still wearing the rags from the prison drenched in blood. Karina had poured a bath. He was relieved to remember that he was alone and had undressed himself. Too much had happened. He sloshed the warm water over his face. Wonderful. He felt the comforting warmth and bliss, wishing it would wash away this world. He opened his eyes. The world had not reverted to his shack back home. It was not a dream he was going to wake up from. “Damn. What the hell do I do now?”

“What happens now?” Mikel asked Tei.

She sat in the Council meeting room with the other Councillors. She seemed to have taken immediately to her new roles as both Councillor and as Head Councillor. She had not responded to him.

“Should I address you as Mistress Tei?” He asked, hearing the odd sound out of his mouth of another name for a female Master, why two names when one would do?

She smiled. “Not necessary at all. A silly formality. Traders do not like such formality. Olen’s love of ritual did not make my fellow Traders happy. As for our plans. It will take time to form an army; we have to send messengers to the other Trader cities, and hope they respond in time. Get people to a staging area. Swear loyalty so we will have some semblance of a chain of command. Arggh! We do not have enough time. Lindin will march on Sanfran well before then. You saw Sanfran’s defenses Mikel, they won't hold, will they?”

He thought for a while juggling lots of things. He saw the beginnings of a plan. A crazy plan. Extending it in his head he saw it could become even crazier. There were probably better plans, but it was the only one he could think of right now.

He spoke aloud to himself. “This is no time for timidity.” He saw Tei’s puzzled look.

“Before I left Lind I had a briefing with some of the wizards. They gave me an update of the situation in Bethor and Arva. One thing they covered was the port founded by The Center at Iska, at the mouth of the Zanda River, downstream from Tanfel.”

“Yes, we know of it,” said Master Levin.

Mikel continued, “There is a garrison normally stationed at Iska. However, most of it has been, or rather was being, transferred to a temporary fort north of Tanfel. The garrison was moved there secretly because we feared that one of the Cities acting as a pawn of Bethor would move to block the southern trade routes from the Eastern Caravanserai to Tanfel and therefore disrupt our strategically critical trade with Tanten.”

“I see. The Center does not trust the safety of trade routes via Bethor either,” added another Master, whom Mikel would later learn was Hazn.

“I believe if we can get a message to the garrison we could persuade them to bring their troops north to Sanfran. They would probably arrive much earlier than a Trader army. And we could even send a small group of Traders to help Sanfran morale in the meantime.” Mikel thought it probably wasn’t wise to say that last bit. But it was out there now.

Tei said, “Mikel, what makes you think that the commander of a garrison would respond to your request? This would mean Lind becoming involved in a war, something they usually avoid.”

“This would be to avoid a bigger war or at least to protect the trade route. I also think I could persuade the commander. Anyway, it is a free option, we just send a rider with the message and either we get the help, or we don’t and nothing is changed. Except if we get it it could make a significant difference.”

Tei held up her hand. Everyone understood,
silence while I think
.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, but finally she lifted her head and looked across the room at him.
 

“Write your letter with all the skill you can. Captain Ellis, gather one of our best messengers and a few skilled riders to assist, have them meet me in the Head Councillor’s quarters in one hour. Councillors, I would like to meet you here in three hours to plan this undertaking. I like the suggestion of a small force to Sanfran in the meantime.” She said.
 

Mikel wanted to comfort her. But this was not the right time or place.

He went over the note again and again. He was sure it was wrong the way he told it but he had been as honest as he could. He described in summary his mission, the journey to Bethor, his time there, meeting Tei, the journey across the Plains, more detail about the stay in Sanfran, about the coup in Tanten, and the likely war that was about to unfold. He begged for the commander’s help to prevent Sanfran falling before the Tanten forces could arrive.

He wrote the encrypted version carefully so he could accurately add another message to it. An added space here, a lifted letter there, and the steganographic message was embedded. Encryption within encryption. The authentication within the message. All the Wizards learned basic steganographic techniques, the art of hiding messages in plain sight. This was an easy one since there was only one shared secret he had with the commander, whoever they were. Even if someone had the encryption key they would likely not find the hidden message, which hopefully would persuade the receiver to act.

He carefully folded the letter then sealed with the seal of the Council of Tanten. He wrapped it in one of the sheets of waterproof leather he had brought along, distinctly a product of Lind but not the kind of thing that was exported, it was just a household item.

Mikel turned to give it to the messenger but it was Rayan Valis who stood there.

“Major? Are you … ?”

“They need to see that the letter has authority from Tanten as well as you. I won't be alone, I will be taking three friends along, just in case there is trouble.” He smiled.

Mikel shook his hand and handed over the wrapped letter. Rayan Valis turned from Mikel and disappeared out of the door. Through the open window streamed orange light, the sun was setting, however the Major would not wait for morning.

Mikel looked at his small collection of things that he had spread out on a table while looking for his notebook and wraps. Some of the items unused, the entire collection seemed so naive and juvenile now. He had thought he would have the chance to perform some experiments, do some scientific investigations, instead he was fighting for his life and changing the fate of nations. He did not think there was any way he could be up to the task. But he had no choice. Almost all the people he had met were decent people just trying to live; a war would be a random scythe of death across the Great Plains and extend all the way to Bethor and Lind. Like a human plague. It made the machinations leading to war seem all the more pointless.

He left his room and walked west towards the Keep and the setting sun, now just above the Castle walls. He changed his path so the growing shadow of the Keep would shade his eyes. Tei was on the steps talking to some guards and two Councillors. She preferred normal Trader dress: leathers and turban. She apparently didn’t care for the fine clothes of office. But then Traders don’t particularly like ritual.

“Mikel!” She called. “Come with me.”

She came down the steps took his hand and started to lead him somewhere around behind the Keep, constantly chattering away about preparations and logistics. Mikel was more amazed about the hand holding. She had never done that before, he just smiled stupidly. They stopped before a two story rectangular gray stone building just to the north of the Keep. He had not noticed it before even though it was as wide as the Keep.
 

“You wanted to see the Library? Didn’t you? Well, here it is.”

“This is the Library. And I have FULL access.” She said. She smiled as if she was a child who had been left alone next to a pot of honey.

The entrance to the building was as plain as the gray stone of the outside. The inside also seemed ordinary, racks of books, a card catalog, assistants.

“I wish to see the Records. All of them.” Tei said. Sounding royal, finally getting her way. The ten year old's dream coming true.