Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1) (6 page)

Had she read his mind? Or more likely noticed him licking his cracked lips.

The tent was a surprise. He had expected a two man tent or similar. Instead he was in a much more elaborate and larger structure. Calling it a ‘tent’ seemed wrong. Yes, it was made of cloth and leather, but the blue and gold embroidery, the hanging tapestries, and the carpets were the trappings of royalty. It was also big, big enough for parties for several dozen people to gather.

As they entered she proclaimed, seemingly as a matter of protocol. “Here in this hexayurt I sit as the representative of the Mark of Valis and the Council of Tanten.”

Not royalty, rather — Ambassador.

“Do you know why you are here Wizard?”

“I am not a Wizard, I am merely an Apprentice. I don’t know why I am here exactly. I was told to find out information about trading networks in the Plains.”

She was seated on a chair that was not quite a throne but not quite a chair. It suggested that she was the focus. It was made of dark carved wood, it looked ornate and very uncomfortable. Perhaps the hardness of the wood matched her nature.

Now she had a cold, steely look in her eyes as she examined him, deciding her next words.

“Some think you are a spy sent by Lind. Others that you are a token of continuing friendship. Others that your Master sees a common use for you by both parties that will be — profitable.”

“And what do you think?” He said.

“Perhaps you are one masquerading as another. It is too early to say. But know this trail companion, if you are here for the ill of my people, The Center will never see you again.”

“
Trail companion
?”

“Yes. You are going to join me on the Plains. I am your guide, as you have been instructed, and I am going to guide you into Arva until we resolve just what is going on here. Meet me here the day after tomorrow, after morning prayers. I will be concluding my business in Bethor tomorrow.”

"All I need are some words from you about trade routes. Less than an hour of your time. No need to waste any time taking me with you. I assure you I would be hopeless."

"Then think of this as a wonderful opportunity. You are coming with me. Only then will you find out what you want to know and so will I."

He walked back to the inn feeling alone and uncertain. Was he going to his death letting this woman take over his plans? He felt abandoned and an idiot. He dropped into the Lind Embassy on the way to his rented room and encoded a quick report, warning of his findings in Bethor and his trip to the Plains, then sealed it with wax.

It would be on the next return ship back to Lind and the Master Wizard. He handed it to the Wizard at the counter who was looking down, hooded, busy writing what looked like a report.

"Official courier to The Center."

The man took it, noticed who it was addressed to and instantly put it into a large pouch below the counter.

"Do not fear, it will leave on the morning tide."

Suddenly the sound of a Lind accent was very comforting. He wanted the man to speak some more.

"How long have you been stationed in Bethor?"

"About five months. I will be returning in another month."

"I guess you would be eager to see home again." Mikel said.

"Of course." He audibly sighed.

"It isn't a very friendly place, is it?"

The man only nodded, head still facing down, only the top of his hood visible.

It occurred to Mikel that the staff at the Embassy should have seen the warning signs that he had seen. Why had it been necessary to send him?

"I've seen a lot of signs in the streets. Bethor seems to be getting quite aggressive and restless."

The man looked up and pushed his cowl back revealing his face. Mikel almost gasped. The same face, almost unchanged, that had changed his life.

"What is your name?" Mikel asked, returning that question asked long before.

"Alberto Elrick. Yours?"

"Mikel. Mikel Peres."

Alberto looked at him. His eyes widened for a moment, then they both smiled.

"Glad to see you did so well." Alberto said.

"I really can't express how much I owe you. Why have I never seen you before?"

"I spend most my time here, only spending one or two months each year back in Lind or one of the islands. It's pretty unlikely our paths would cross."

"I know you are busy but I've been wondering, is there something wrong with Bethor? It seems really aggressive and intolerant."

Alberto smiled. "It is always like that. It just varies in intensity from year to year. You get used to it, but I find I need a break every now and then."

Mikel concluded that Wizards in Bethor were just too close, too acclimatized to the danger and could no longer see the signs becoming urgent.

It seemed the difficult task was done, but the easy task was going to get him into a lot of hot water. He dallied there for some time, reluctant to leave, the place radiated safety, it felt like home. He wanted to stay until morning then take that letter back personally to the Master Wizard and beg for forgiveness. Even if the Master forgave him, deep inside he knew he would have failed, at his very first mission. It would be humiliating. Perhaps, if he was older and more seasoned he may have thought differently but now, right now, he was compelled to go along with circumstance. Yet deep down it gave him a chill, it felt irreversible, and final.

He had a day to spare in Bethor with no idea what to do. He could fake a Bethorese accent pretty well but he didn't want to push his luck. Briefly, a temptation flashed into his mind to travel north and find his home, but there was no time and he didn't know if his village was a day's ride north or a week's ride, and he didn't know how to ride anyway. It would be better to stay in the city, besides he wasn't ready yet to find the graves of his family. He decided to take a random walk through the Delta. Explore the places that he had no official need to visit.

Most of the streets led to more and more merchant premises. But one of the streets on the southern side of the Delta ended in a large circular area fronting an imposing yellow stone building, sandstone probably by the delicate shading and grain. He had never appreciated until now how beautiful it could be, especially with the sun low in the sky with the mellowing light. There were six armed guards standing watch at a large gate made of iron bars and wrought iron mesh that looked like a black rose garden. Great workmanship mixed with memory flashes, momentary feelings. He took a deep breath and took a step backwards. The building was clearly a government structure but it was very ornate. He had been raised in a deeply egalitarian society and had no familiarity with the concepts of aristocracy or opulence, so he did not immediately associate the building with an individual with great power and wealth and therefore did not know that it was not public or open or safe.

He walked around the arc of the cul-de-sac, the rut marks indicated it was for carriages and such. He just wanted to get a better look at the building and the workmanship.

"You. If you don't have any business here, leave." Said the closest guard.

"Certainly, my apologies. I'm just a visitor from — a village to the north. Pardon."

He turned to walk away up the road when he saw a carriage approaching rapidly. He turned and jumped to the right out of the way, back onto the footpath. The carriage pulled up. The front horse was a huge, black, beautiful creature, uncomfortably close and snorting in his direction while the bridle and other horse tack jostled and clinked from the sudden stop. A woman stepped out of the carriage dressed in some kind of simple but well made gray military uniform. Brown hair plaited and braided forming a crown around her head. She looked at him.

"You there! Who are you?"

"Just a visitor to Bethor, name's Mikel. I was admiring the workmanship of the building. We don't have anything like it in my village."

Her deep blue eyes narrowed. Judging. She had a light skin, no makeup or jewelry. There was something cold and familiar about her look, a disdain and matter of fact attitude to stepping on others, he recognized it from the slavers. But this woman had more than that. She was very familiar indeed, and that voice.

"You don't belong here citizen. If you feel pride in the work of Bethor then enlist. Be a patriot and join the national will to greatness."

He didn't understand what these words meant, they were gibberish, but he did know he had better act like one of the faithful.

"Yes, yes majesty." He bit his lip, he knew nothing of protocols for royal or imperial courts.

The woman's eyes narrowed and she smiled in a crooked way as if acknowledging an in-joke only she understood.
 

He started walking away briskly, behind him he heard one of the guards. "Welcome back, Ms Markham."

He picked up the pace, eager to get as far away from her as possible. His jaws tensing in fear. A strange thought occurred to him, perhaps it wasn't that we remember the past but rather the past remembers us and was all the more dangerous for that.

Finally, the bartering was concluded for the major goods. Letters of credit and arrangements with the Trader bank finalized but the biggest hurdle was yet to come. Traders really don't like socializing with aristocracy. They can do it but it is almost an affront to their beliefs, which they conveniently keep secret, spreading the lie that they are unsophisticated, which is starkly at odds with the fact that they trade information and technology, and run the banking network.

Now she had a party to go to, she had to meet the evil family at the magic castle, like one of the stories her Nan used to tell her.

It was typical Trader formal wear for a woman. Yellow and pink silk pantaloons, a formal deep blue jacket, yellow silk sleeves; the colours of morning. And a ceremonial dagger. The dagger had no edge otherwise the guards would never let it in. It did not have jewels or gold but was made from materials sacred to the Traders. Ancient wood from the pines of northern Xan, trees that no longer existed; steel reforged from weapons of the Ancients.
 
There was no reason for overly strict or corrupt guards to keep it.

She hired an enclosed carriage to the castle. It was strange to ride without the wind in her face, or able to see everything around her at a glance. She couldn't anticipate the bumps and lurches. It was horrendous.

"The things I do for duty." She murmured to no one. She had decided to go alone. A party of one woman looks forlorn and harmless, at least with the odd perceptions that Bethor was noted for.

The castle was everything she expected from the old fairytales. A great black gate reminding her of a story about a castle surrounded by a cursed forest of thorns. She gritted her teeth, and pulled her mouth into something superficially resembling an insipid smile greeting the guards.

Inside she was introduced formally to the room and started mingling.

On the far right of the room were three merchants that Tei recognized. They all seemed to wear well tailored coats of some reddish brown material. She should ask what it was, it might be worth sourcing a supply if the fashion spread eastward.

First among the little gathering was Terrance Alistero, he was a balding portly middle aged merchant who had once ventured out to all the Cities, but had been getting rich and fat staying in Bethor the last few years. He, like most merchants, was friendly with the Traders but unlike most he actually meant it. Tei knew him but thought she should get to know him more, he could be a useful ally in easing some of Bethor's dangerous tendencies. The other two were Gilda Wosheska, a woman in her forties, and Adrian Finn, both of them Tei barely knew.

"Hello Tei. I'm surprised to see you here," Terry said, smiling.

"Good evening, friends. I'm just here wearing my ambassador hat for tonight. Keeping up good relations."

The other two merchants chuckled at the 'good relations'.

Gilda was a dark-haired, dark skinned woman who was no longer young, with streaks of gray in her hair and the start of wrinkles on the sides of her face; the intensity in her eyes overrode the trappings of age. She spoke up, getting back on topic, which meant
goods
.

"Have you seen the new clocks from Lind? Mechanical, with gears. By the stars it makes you wonder if those old stories of the Ancients are true. Pricey but there are so many willing takers. I have a contact in Lind if you wish to purchase from me, I can be extremely reasonable."

Adrian sneered and spoke. "Just how many clocks do you expect to sell. I too have contacts in Lind and I have the rights to sell a new water purification system."

That got Tei's attention.

"How complex is it? Are you selling parts or the plans? And how much?" She said.

He smiled. "It does require kilns to produce charcoal. But once you have the basic components I am told it is very easy to use and very effective. Cost, open to negotiation, of course." He said.

"Charcoal? How is black soot going to make clean water?" Gilda said.

"We would have to see a working demonstration first. I cannot stay much longer in Bethor but I will pass on the details to my relief." Tei said. He passed her a small note with his name and contact details.

Terry leaned in, whispering. "Good that you are going Tei. I honestly don't feel comfortable here anymore." He looked up startled, he gave her a quick wave. They all backed away, frightened like wild animals.

Before she could turn, a woman sidled up to her left, a drink in a beautiful green glass cup in her right hand. She wore a stark gray uniform. It stood out in this refined atmosphere like a bloody sword at a wedding.

"Excuse me, Ambassador. My name is Liz Markham." They shook hands awkwardly, while Liz transferred the drink to her other hand.

"Markham? Now there's a name that invites some questions. My name is Tei Lin Valis. Call me Tei."

"Pleased to meet you, Tei. Hah, yes. Many people have the name Markham, doesn't mean much these days. So what interesting insights can you give us for the latest fashions in goods, Tei?"

"I just look for what people want now and try to give them that. Too hard for me to anticipate fashion I'm afraid."