Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) (28 page)

“Do you have anything for my headache?”

The healer threw a packet at Shiro. “Powdered willow bark. That’s all I got.”

Shiro left the tent. Willow bark. He had harvested the same thing on Roppon. He wished he could teleport to Chika or Tishiaki. They could get him to a proper healer, but Shiro could barely touch his power. He shivered a bit at the thought of his disguise nearly being exposed. He considered himself lucky that he hadn’t reverted to his actual form.

At least the armies had withdrawn for the winter. It didn’t snow very often in Roppon except perhaps as far south as Sekkoro and Daikkon Island, so any battling between lords happened all year around.

He found his group leader, who gnashed his teeth when Shiro showed him the pass. The leader gave him a shovel and told him to muck out the horse lines for the week. Shiro didn’t mind, he could pace his work and gauge his recovery.

“You there!” an officer grabbed Shiro by the shoulder. “New?” He examined Shiro’s hand.

Shiro nodded. He didn’t detect any animosity on the officer’s face. “Everyone gets tested for the ability to do magic. We don’t want any spies. Get in that line over there.”

He still hadn’t taken any of the willow bark powder and put his hand to his forehead but it didn’t take any of the pain away. He looked around for Anchor and couldn’t see him among the ocean of men. His swordsmanship wouldn’t be very effective in his current state.

The officer still looked on as Shiro took his place in the back of a long line. He couldn’t run, but a boy brought a water bucket along the row of men. Shiro took advantage of that and mixed in the willow bark and drank deeply from the ladle.

“What’cha put in there?” the man next to him in line said.

“Head injury. The healer gave me willow bark. My head hurts.”

“Ah. That’s why you speak queer-like.” The man grunted and turned back, looking towards the front of the line.

Where was Anchor when he needed him? At least he didn’t gag up the medicine. The line didn’t get any shorter, but Shiro gradually made his way to the front. He still clutched the shovel and used it for support as he reached the table. Two men sat and four men held swords in their hands, but the points were in the dirt. So much for battle-readiness.

Shiro finally made his way to the front of the line. If they confronted him on his power, he’d use the shovel as a weapon, if he needed to.

“Name?”

“Banner Horeli, Venato.” Shiro looked from one man to the other. They were wizards, but he could barely sense their power and didn’t know if it was due to his injury or their Affinity.

One of the men wrote it down on some paper along with other names and the other searched a list.

“Here it is. Arrived two days ago.” He turned to Shiro. “Horeli, look me in the eyes.”

Shiro squinted at the man and gripped the shovel. He wouldn’t last a minute against four men, even if they did have to jerk their swords out of the ground.

“Hold this,” One of the seated men said. He muttered a spell and the little ball in Shiro’s hand barely glowed in the daylight. “He’s got a trace of power, but probably didn’t even know it,” the man said, looking down to make a mark next to his name. The other made a similar mark on his list. He looked back at Shiro. “Did you know you had a little magic in you?”

“Grandfather was a wizard,” Shiro said. He didn’t know if his grandfather had any Affinity or not, but it seemed to be the right thing to say.

“Well not much of it made it down to you. Not enough to be useful for us. Move on.”

A few paces from the tables, Shiro found himself sweating. His injury had just saved his life. He wanted to search for Anchor, but he could feel his legs weaken a bit. He made it to the horse lines and stepped a few paces into the trees that bordered the camp and sat down for a minute until his nerves quieted and his strength returned.

For the first time, he worried that his injury might be permanent.

~

Lotto slammed his mug into Lessa’s and sipped his ale. “So what’s new on the western front?” Lessa had just been teleported back to the inn at Sally’s Corners for updates and Lotto wanted an advanced briefing from his good friend. They met in a tavern at the very southern end of Sally’s Corners.

“We’ve got the northern ports sealed off. You knew that. The weather’s a bit better right now on the west coast, but we have enough troops to discourage anything right now. Histron’s not going to want to move troops from the south on the western side of the Smoke Mountains. The territory is awful. We’ve got scouts snuggled in with birds all the way as far south as Foxhome would be.”

Lotto remembered that the Red Kingdom didn’t have much of a population in the arid west. “So what will you do this winter?”

Lessa smiled. “I’m going home and take a few of Chika’s Red Roses. They have some interesting fighting styles that I want my men to learn. One of them will be able to teleport so I can visit this sorry place,” Lessa looked around the tavern. “At least the food is good.”

“Warm fire, good food,” Lotto said, smiling. He took another sip of his ale and lifted it towards Lessa. “I can think of worse ways to spend a winter. Restella’s headed back to Oringia to winter there and keep chipping away at Valetan’s eastern enemy from Port Scarlet.”

“That girl’s a glutton for punishment.”

Lotto grimaced. “Not so much of a punishment when we are that far apart. We can barely communicate over that distance and that’s fine with her.”

Lessa furrowed his brow. “I thought you two…” He put to fingers up, close together.

“At first. The link overwhelmed both of us, I suppose. The link tells me that she doesn’t hate me, but toleration might be a better term,” Lotto shook his head. “My life isn’t quite what I intended it to be.”

Lessa pursed his lips. “Nothing you can do? You’re a great wizard. You can come up with something.” Lessa’s eyes rose seeing something behind Lotto. They both heard Prince Peeron’s voice piercing the relative calm in the tavern.

“Councilor Lessa!  How is it in the west? I’ve come to rescue you. We are about to meet at headquarters.”

Lotto rose along with Lessa.

Peeron turned his head back to look at Lotto. “I suppose you should come, too.” Lotto didn’t like Peeron’s tone of voice. But then he didn’t really like the Prince as much as he tried not to actually hate the man.

Sallia smiled at Lotto as the three of them walked into the new meeting room quickly built onto the back of The Traveler’s Rest. Lotto could still detect the fresh smell of the newly milled wood paneling and the mortar between the stones of the fireplace.

“Complications,” Duke Jellas said, sitting at the large table. “Sit, all of you.” He lit up a pipe and took a puff while the rest found chairs.

Lotto nodded to Chika, Sallia and Morio, the duke’s son. Mander grinned at him. Mander Hart always raised his spirits. No Shiro, no Anchor.

“We’ve just received word that Anchor and Shiro have gone missing. They met with General Fellon of Learsea, who tried to assassinate the both of them.”

Chika sat up in her chair. “Shiro wouldn’t allow such a thing.” Lotto had never seen the woman so agitated.

“General Fellon is a great man,” Prince Peeron said. “If he desired a man dead, he’d be dead.”

Jellas looked at the prince for a moment as discussion broke out in pockets at the table. Lotto just waited for more of the duke’s information.

“Your great general won’t be desiring anything again. Anchor killed him,” the duke said. Lotto saw the prince turn red. Good.

“The pair decided to teleport to the port city of Grianne in Teryon to find out what is going on south of the Red Kingdom. They’ve been gone for five days.”

Chika sat back. “Shiro knows which end of his sword is sharp. I wouldn’t worry yet. I’m sure there is a good reason he hasn’t returned.”

“I appreciate your sanguinity,” the prince said, pounding his fist on the table and rising from his seat. “But my father’s kingdom is now upside down with Fellon’s death and your boyfriend and the Learsea Marshal have traipsed into enemy territory? I demand to be taken to my father.”

Lotto leaned over the table. “Feel free to start today, Prince. The only Red Rose who has been to your capital is Shiro. That means you’ll have to travel on horse from here to there. I imagine you’ll get there in the middle of winter.”

“You don’t have to leave us, Prince,” Duke Jellas said. “Wait another week or two. If you must, Chika can teleport you to the Learsea border. She’s been there before and you can be in Learsea within a month’s time.”

Lotto wished the man would head back to his home. Peeron swaggered around and spread discontent throughout the various camps. It looked like his desire wouldn’t be fulfilled as the duke had successfully mollified the prince. Lotto concentrated on not giving the prince a nasty look. Mander caught his eye and moved his hands down as if to settle down Lotto’s anger. He didn’t like losing his temper, but the prince had developed an expertise at making him angry.

The rest of the meeting dealt with the details of securing the northern part of the Red Kingdom for winter. Lotto headed up the Valetan contingent while Restella fought in the midst of winter in Oringia.

Mander came up to him as they left The Traveler’s Rest. “Get your men settled down and come to Beckondale with me for a few weeks. Kenyr would like to see you and I’d like to reacquaint myself with my wife. What do you say? A number of the Red Roses have been to Beckondale, so no travel time. If there is a development in Grianne, a Ropponi can bring us the news in an instant. I’ll be leaving in a week or ten days.”

Lotto chewed on his lip for a moment. “You do know what’s best for me, don’t you?”

“Maybe not what’s best, but certainly what’s better, my boy. Poke around in the bookstore, spar with Kenyr. He’d like that. Get away from here for a respite. Everyone will be here for the duration of winter, even the prince.”

“Not if he can help it,” Lotto said, feeling the heat rise back into his face. It also irked him that he still hadn’t mastered the art of teleportation.

“The duke won’t allow him to leave. Mark my word. He’s a danger to Anchor in Learsea, but merely a nuisance here.”

~

Sallia cornered Lotto as he came from their meeting room. “I’m worried about Anchor,” she said. Sallia couldn’t keep her hands from fidgeting. “It’s been two weeks and nothing.”

Lotto chuckled. “This teleportation business had spoiled us for knowing what’s going on. I suggest giving it two more weeks. I’m going to Beckondale with Mander Hart for a bit of a break. Would you like to come? If something happens any of us can be back here in a flash.”

Sallia liked his smile as it brightened her spirits and she had to admit that she could use some time away. The prospects of sitting around, accomplishing nothing all winter, began to grind on her. Now she knew why her father had been so irascible when shut into the castle at Foxhome, waiting for the campaigns to start up again. She would give nearly anything to see that irascibility once again.

“Wait here. I’ll have a word with Duke Jellas.”

She stepped into the meeting room again. It had begun to smell of smoke and ale. The duke was just about to leave by another door.

“Duke. Do you need me for the next two weeks? Lotto asked me to spend some time in Beckondale. I think I need to get away.”

“Do it. I’ll take the prince to Crackledown for the same reason as soon as Lotto and you return. Enjoy yourself.” He waved to her as he stepped out the door.

Sallia’s mood suddenly changed. She bounced to Lotto. “I’ll come. I’ve got another piece of good news. Jellas is taking the prince to Crackledown after we return. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

Lotto nodded. “I’ll meet you tomorrow on the front steps.”

Although she loved Sally’s Corners, Sallia now felt stifled and oppressed with trip to Beckondale tomorrow. The weather didn’t help, but with the others taking time off, she didn’t feel any guilt.

The next day, she stood by Mander Hart, Lotto and a Ropponi male. He made them touch each other, which became a little awkward with all of their luggage and suddenly an unexpected snow began to drift into her hair. Sallia blew out her breath and looked up at the castle of Beckondale.

“Follow me,” Mander Hart said, crooking his finger. “I’ll have servants take care of your luggage.” A flood of them came from underneath the stairs leading up to the large castle doors and grabbed their bags. “We will visit with the king before we go our different ways. Hmmm.” He looked at the Ropponi who might have been a statue because he stood so still.

“Why don’t you go with the servants?” Mander said. “They can find some food for you and a place to stay. It will be better than any tent in the south. If you need anything, call on me at my house.” He produced a card and gave it to the Ropponi who bowed and followed the last of the servants.

Mander stopped them as they passed though the door and out of the snow. “Princess, do you want to stay at the castle or join me at my house? We don’t have lots of servants, but at least my wife is easy to know and I consider myself able to rise to the level of an adequate host on occasion.”

“Perhaps after we visit King Goleto,” Sallia said. She didn’t know if she trusted Mander Hart enough to take up his offer. The man seemed too light-hearted, but Lotto always looked at the man as some kind of hero.