A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (50 page)

You're not going to win her over.

Eric, I'm a politician; winning people over is what I do.

Eric couldn't argue with that so he headed to Motsuc's shop.
On the way, he stopped at a fast food chain that served the burgers he liked so
much. He knew Tiza wouldn't agree so in preparation for resistance he came
bearing gifts.

Tiza slurped a milkshake. “And why do you want me to watch
in the first place?”

Despite the fact that he had no idea himself, he said, “I'll
think you'll find it interesting.”

Stuck in Motsuc's ceiling was a CV complete with surround
sound speakers in the walls. At the push of a button, lines of energy traveled
up the walls and lit up the screen. Kasile appeared on a stage across from an
older human woman. Her circlet was missing, her dress was casual, and,
interestingly enough, she was wearing shoes like Tiza's.
Surely that's not
the reason . . .

“Hello and welcome to Casandra,” said the host. “Today, we
have a special guest. Our very own princess, Kasile Ataidar!” The audience
applauded on cue. “Tell us, Princess, what cause are you championing today?”

“I'll give you a hint: it has to do with the New Scepter
Competition.”

Casandra leaned forward. “You've recommended someone
outrageous again, haven't you?”

Kasile leaned forward. “I have: Eric Watley from the
Dragon's Lair, BUT!” she emphasized this with the raise of a gloved finger. “Unlike
the others, Eric passed the First Challenge. In fact, he outscored everyone
else.”

The host and audience gasped.

“Is this the same Eric Watley that led your rescue?”

Kasile nodded. “The very same. Did you know he wasn't hired
to do so? It was all his idea and the expenses for the mission came out of his
own pocket. I owe him so much.” Eric blushed to his toes. What kind of plan
involved embarrassing him on CV!?  “I'm glad you brought up the rescue,
Casandra, because I want to talk about it.”

“And we'd
love
to hear about it. Wouldn't we
everyone?” The audience cheered.

“I had a lot of time to think while I was captive . . .”
Kasile said softly. Her eyes were downcast and her hands clasped in her lap. “I
began to think that . . . maybe . . .I could have prevented it.” Her eyes
misted up and the cameraman focused in. “If I had been prepared . . .Maybe . .
.”

Oh, she's good!

“We don't have to go on if it’s too much for you.”

Kasile shook her head. “No . . . I need to do this.”

Tiza burped. “You interrupted my training to watch a tent's
sob story?”

“Keep watching.” Tiza stood up. “Keep watching or I'll take
back the milkshake.”

“All right.” Tiza lay back down. “Five minutes.”

“—that again,” Kasile was saying. “As soon as I returned, I
sought out an instructor in self-defense. I won't be a damsel in distress
anymore: kidnappers beware!”

The audience applauded.

Cassandra's tablet pinged and a question appeared. “Where
have you found this instructor, our audience wants to know.”

“Mine is part of the royal guard, but I imagine one could
find very capable instructors at the local dojo or warrior guilds like the
Dragon's Lair.”

“Why's a tent promoting us?” Tiza asked.

“Maybe this is her way of rewarding me and Culmus.”

Tiza frowned. “Or maybe she's trying to convert me.”
That's
a strange choice of words
. “I'll never be converted by a tent!” She went
back to the front desk. “You can keep the milkshake!”

Eric stayed to finish the program. Here he could watch it
without interruption. It was an unwritten rule that higher-ranking members had
higher levels of control over the remote. As a greenhorn novice, he could only
ask someone to turn the volume up.

“—which needs a renovation,” the princess continued. “I
saved the best for last. According to my last report, the assassins targeting
Abbot Tolis have been apprehended.”

Casandra addressed the camera. “For those of you at home who
don't know, Valentine Tolis is the Abbot of Our Lady of Benevolent Mischief in
Rlawader. He leads the international protest of Latrot's use of ordercraft on
sapients. Since the start of the new year, he has survived three attempts on
his life. Tell me, Princess, who is responsible for saving him?”

Kasile waggled her finger. “Sora wa himtsu desu. The
bodyguard's contract has a confidentiality clause.” Tiza jumped from her seat. “All
that's important is the safety of the client's . . .
Cocoon
.”

Beaming like an adoring daughter, Tiza bragged endlessly
about the greatness of her Spider Daylra; in a whisper of course. She couldn't
risk anyone overhearing. She had so much fun she neglected a customer. They
rang three times before she pulled herself away.

“Stuff Maker!” Tiza called. “There's a guy here that wants a
special brush.”

The backroom racket died down and Motsuc came out to deliver
the order. Then he noticed Eric and asked if he was a customer. When the mage
shook his head Motsuc told him to leave. The customizer didn't like loiters, delinquents
or people using his CV but he
did
like people that brought him lunch.
While Motsuc ate his salad, Eric watched his game show.

“You've known Basilard for a while, right?” Eric asked
during a commercial break.

“Yes I've known him since he was your age.”

“Then do you know about his previous team? The one before
us?”

“That was eight years ago. I can't remember something like
that.”

“But you
remember
that it was eight years ago.” Motsuc
froze. “Tell us!”

“It's none of my business what Basilard did with his first
team! So stop asking me!”

“His
first
team?” both novices said. Motsuc clamped
both hands to his mouth.

If something tragic happened it would explain why
everyone refuses to talk about it. Did he blame himself for their death?
It
would explain his determination to be a decoy in the Yacian Caverns.
Was he
was a poor teacher?
On their way back, Basilard felt a need to “redeem
himself.” Did they—

  “YOU'RE GONNA
DIE
!!” a zombie shouted in his face.
Eric screeched and his hands flew in front of him to form a mana bolt. Then
Tiza's head poked out from behind the zombie's.

“Tiza! What are you
doing!?”

“My job,” she said with an obnoxious smile. “Products have
to be tested before they are sold. Quality check, you know?” On a second look,
the zombie was fake: a puppet made of rubber, faux hair and blood. “You were so
zoned out you were the perfect test subject.”

“Indeed he was,” Motsuc said. “My client is going to love
this.”

“Who the abyss would order a fake zombie!?”

“A college professor,” Motsuc replied. “Rather unorthodox
they are; wanted something that would keep students awake in class. This ought
to do the trick.”

“Hey, Dimwit,” Tiza said, barely withholding a chuckle. “Is
there anything else you want to think about? We have more . . . hehe . . .products
to test!” She lost the struggle and laughed out loud. Motsuc joined her. While
Eric didn't entirely mind being a poster-child, he definitely objected to being
a test dummy or a punchline. He left the store for more civil company.

Civil company was nowhere to be found. Annala was working at
Across the Sea and not speaking to him because he broke his promise to work
with her. His second friend, Revas, was also busy working at the family dojo. His
third friend, Oito, was training for the Joust somewhere in the country. Nolien
had his hands full at the orphanage.

Why are you ignoring me!?
Dengel demanded.
You act
like I'm not here!

I'm looking for a friend
and all you do is brag
and lecture.

My lectures are brilliant
and I NEVER
brag.

Seeing everyone so busy with their own lives made Eric
remember he was an Otherworlder. He may learn Ataidar's history and culture,
but he wasn't born here. He didn't have the experience of growing up here. It
would be nice to talk someone who was also an outsider . . . He slapped his
forehead.
How could I have been so stupid!
He banged himself on the head
for good measure. He wasn't out of friends, not yet. A very important one
waited for him at home.

Above Eric's bed was a mantle. In truth, it was a support
beam for the bridge that was his house, but it served the purpose of a mantle
just as well. Here he stored his treasures.

The first was the rock and paper from his first “mission”
because it reminded him of the day he joined the Dragon's Lair. He'd grown fond
of the guild despite their personality quirks and general aura of chaos. They
were a friendly bunch despite what others said.

The second was the talon he tore off the Cecri because it
reminded him of both his first real mission and his first battle as a mage. He originally
tore it off to remind himself of his mistakes, but its meaning had changed. It
was his first battle trophy.

The third object was Kasile's handkerchief. Culmus objected
but Kasile insisted Eric kept it as a memento of the rescue. Then she joked that
he “charmed” it out of her and laughed when Culmus paled. Privately, Eric
thought she used him to get it out of Culmus' possession and stabilize her
relationship with Siron. Still, he was glad because it symbolized the first
mission he took on his own initiative. He found the client, he made the plan,
he executed it, and he came back alive with his partner.

It was the fourth object that held Eric's attention: the jar
of Aio's ashes. It was simple, unadorned plastic; Tiza had used it to carry
raisins. As per Basilard's instructions, he kept it for himself.

“Hey, Aio, how are you?” Eric asked the jar. “Your roomy's
been busy since you left. I survived an ordeal to obtain the soul of one of the
greatest mages in history and killed a fellow sapient to stop them from raping
my best friend. You know her, Annala Enaz. No, we're not a couple. I helped a
princess rescue herself and now I've been drafted by her for a political
campaign. Because of her, I've entered a magic contest that wants to throw me
out.”

He paused, sniffed, and swallowed.

“Everything changed after you left. I used to be a humble
mercenary and now I'm some quasi-celebrity: Eric the Princess Rescuer and Eric
the First Non-Academy Student to Pass the Founders of Magic Exam. Kasile wants
me to teach her magecraft when I'm still a student myself
and
win this
competition to open it to non-academy students. If I lose, she'll lose . . . If
she weren't depending on me so much . . . if we weren't friends . . . I'd quit.”

The jar didn't respond, but Eric didn't expect it to. Some things
were impossible regardless of the world you were in. Even a world as crazy as
this one where monsters roamed and magic was a commonplace science; where
anything
was possible if you had enough energy, knowledge, and willpower . . . Death was
death; Ashes were ashes; Dust was dust.

Still, it was good to get things off his chest once in a
while. He could imagine Aio listening as he always did. He could imagine the
albino's bright eyes and mischievous smile and saying something silly. It made
him feel better.

He said goodbye and left for the Dragon's Lair. Only there
could he practice his act for the second challenge without disturbing anyone
and Dengel was paranoid that someone would steal it. Mia was listening to music,
but waved to him as he passed.

 Just outside the door, he heard the sounds of flesh
striking wood and feminine battle shouts. Opening the door, he found Kasile
fighting a training dummy under Laharg's supervision. Her hair was tied up in a
bun and she looked quite the commoner drenched in sweat and blemished with
bruises.

Judging by your tarnished beauty, I'd say you've been
here a while.

Divine beauty is never tarnished,
Kasile replied
without stopping.

“Hey, Eric!“ Laharg called. “You here to train too?”

“No. I'm here to practice for the magic contest.”

Laharg turned up his nose. “That snob fest at the castle?”

“I'm doing it to
piss off those snobs. And for prize
money.”

A big grin broke over Laharg's face. It made his scary
features friendly. He playfully punched Eric's arm and said, “Thata boy!” Eric
winced and rubbed the area. He could already feel the bruise forming. “Sorry.
Forgot you were a soft skin. Unlike my student.”

Kasile attacked the dummy with renewed vigor.

“So the princess is doing well?”

“Better than well!” Malize said. She flopped on Laharg's
bald head like a winged hat. “I've seen full-time novices complain more than
she does.”

“Yeah. She's gonna spoil us for when we get a tr—”

Malize covered Laharg's eyes and said “guess who?” Laharg replied
by plucking her off his head and staring sternly. Malize pouted and crossed her
arms. Laharg sighed and put her back on his head. She hugged his cue ball with
all four limbs. Eric couldn't hold his laughter any further.

“What's so funny?”

“I'm sorry. It's just that . . . I've never met a pair like
you.”

Malize picked Laharg's ear. “I'll admit we're an odd sight,
but we fit in at our homelands.”

“Every orc's got a fairy on their head?”

Malize nodded. “Uh-huh! It's a tradition that goes back two
thousand years.”

Kasile hunched over on her knees to catch her breath.

“You shouldn't do that,” Laharg said. “You're constricting
your lungs and getting less air.”

Kasile nodded and stood straight. “Eric, are you ready for
the Second Challenge?”

Eric grinned. “See for yourself.”

The dead mage hmphed while the living one performed his act.
As a magic researcher, he couldn't stand seeing magic used as entertainment.
The performance ended and Kasile clapped.