She was. And Tianna made
squeeeee!
noises all the way to the mountain. I’m not sure she paused for breath. Really, I’m not sure. I wondered how she did that. I also tried to keep low in the saddle; her hair rippled out behind her like a flag and kept attacking my face. It wasn’t a bad thing, I suppose, but it did remind me rather uncomfortably of standing in a rocket blast.
I didn’t relax until we were over the main bridge and had slowed to zig-zag up through the city.
When we arrived in the throne room, I had a word with the man on guard duty about rounding up some of the younger citizens; he assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. Then I unstrapped the mirror from Bronze’s side and helped Tianna down.
Tianna dismounted reluctantly, but elected to follow me around while she recovered her breath. I was very pleased; I didn’t think anything could pry her away from Bronze.
We dropped off the mirror in a large room that I decided to make a conference room. I leaned the mirror against one wall so the mountain could embed it and move it up to a comfortable viewing level. I also lined out what I wanted in a table, traced it with spell lines, and gave the mountain the message. We would still need to get some chairs in here, though.
We also visited Beltar. I introduced Tianna to him and he saluted. She giggled.
“Tianna,” I said, “do you see the unconscious guy next to Beltar?”
“Yep.”
“Do you know what he’s doing?”
Tianna regarded him carefully, aware that “just lying there” was probably not the right answer.
“Is he living into Beltar?”
“He is. Very good!” I told her, and she beamed. “Can you see the life energy going from one to the other?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how it’s doing it.”
“It’s a spell I built. It lets someone help a wounded friend get better.”
“Oh. It’s like when I put life into someone?”
“Very much like it. Would you like to practice?”
“Well… okay.”
I disconnected Beltar and his current helper—Magron, I believe. I also made sure the spells to direct his body in healing faster were in good working order.
Tianna put her little hands on Beltar’s hands and frowned in ferocious concentration. Her hair started to glow and Beltar took a deep breath, as though he’d just felt something odd. Which, of course, he had.
A moment later, Tianna let go of him.
“There you go,” she said to him. “You should be all better soon.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he replied, and saluted again. Tianna giggled again, more at being referred to as a lady than the salute, I think.
We went back outside, to the upper courtyard. As promised, many of the children of the current residents had accepted an invitation to play outside. Already, they were running around all over the place. I shouted at one and ordered him down from the wall; he was walking along the top, climbing up and down over crenellations. I don’t mind them looking over the wall, but standing on it is right out; the outside edge has a long, long drop in most places.
Tianna watched them playing for a bit, biting her lip.
“First of all,” I said, “you probably need something to wear besides those robes.”
“Yeah.”
I beckoned over a girl about Tianna’s size and explained the problem. She offered to come back with something, so I sent her off to fetch it.
“Next, we need to find a way to keep you from accidentally incinerating anyone.”
“Yeah.” Morose. Depressed. Sad.
“Fortunately for you, your grandfather is not only a master wizard, but a darn clever one, too.”
“You’re going to fix it?” she asked, half-hoping.
“For a while, yes. But, remember—you still have to keep your temper under control. If someone knocks you down, you
shouldn’t
try to fry them. This will only prevent accidents. Okay?”
“Okay!”
“First, I want you to try and fry a piece of rock. I need to see it so I can make sure I’m affecting the right stuff. Go ahead.”
She did, and I watched carefully. It’s the first time I’ve really tried to analyze the fire a priestess puts off. Where normal fire is a usually a mixture of gases in combustion, Tianna’s effect was not. She didn’t produce anything to actually burn. On the other hand, she did put quite a lot of energy into whatever volume she chose. This produced an effect that looked very much like flames, but was really just an energy effect. In a sense, it was magical fire—that is, fire composed of an esoteric energy form.
A few small tests determined that, while it felt hot, it didn’t actually burn me like normal flames. Interesting.
With that to go on, I started building a spell to contain it. It took several minutes of work, walking around her and scribbling on the stonework. I wanted something that would cause any flames to shoot upward, rather than outward. Technically, she could still fry someone if she laid down and pointed her whole body at them, headfirst, but that seemed unlikely in an angry child and I couldn’t even picture Tianna being angry. Just gesturing and torching would have flames—the energy looked like flames, so I’ll keep calling them flames—shooting skyward, and that was good enough.
Then we waited for Carmel—the girl I’d picked out—to return. Tianna could barely contain herself, but tried very hard to not appear overeager.
Carmel returned, and the two of them went into one of the side rooms off the great hall to change. When they came out, I held on to Tianna’s robes while the two of them hurried off to play. I sat down on one of the stairways to the upper slopes and watched them.
Despite the discussion with Amber, today was still a very good day.
Kammen came out to the courtyard and waited until I noticed him. Tianna had persuaded me to come play, too, so I was with the kids and pretending to be both a jungle gym and a rollercoaster. Most of them were delighted to fly—I would tweak gravity a little, toss one up in the air, catch him on the way down, and repeat the process. Tianna was especially delighted by that.
A few didn’t care for flying. One little girl, Senera, didn’t want to fly, as such, but would happily swing around in a circle. I wound up holding her by a wrist and an ankle and whirling in place. That turned out to be popular, as well.
I really need to build some playground equipment. Note to self.
When I finally noticed Kammen was waiting, I struggled to disengage myself from my playmates. Eventually, I managed to get over to him, despite the four-year-old sitting on my foot and clinging to my shin. He saluted while the child giggled.
“What is it, Kammen?” I asked, shaking my foot gently. More giggling.
“Got a man here who claims he’s a hero, uh, ‘Seeking to challenge the…’ uh… something about ‘the dark lord of the mountain’ and banishing his evil?”
“Oh, him. How’s he doing?” I glared at the child. She smiled up at me.
“Well, we weren’t totally sure what to do with him, but we got his horses groomed and stabled, we got him and his squire quarters, and we got him an invitation to dinner in the great hall.” I didn’t mind another mouth at the tables; Karvalen imported a lot of food, at present. I paid for it, thanks to the mountain’s mining contributions and a few uncut diamonds. Some of the food was sold, but a lot of it wound up in the “palace” region of the undermountain—the part that started at about the level of the upper courtyard. I wasn’t too clear on how that was run, only that Tort was handling the Royal Household, which suited me perfectly.
“Good, good. Could you send someone to ask him if he would be so kind as to attend a small gathering in the upper courtyard?” I asked, stomping carefully so as not to dislodge my passenger.
“Sure, Sire.”
“Go.” I like Kammen. When he remembers to call me “Sire,” he seems so… relaxed about it.
While I waited, I managed to disengage my passenger and send her back into play. It wasn’t easy.
Shortly thereafter, Sir Sedrick came out. He was in mufti—no armor, and with only a half-cloak over his tabard. It was a warm afternoon. He still had his sword and sash, though. He looked around and finally noticed me playing with the children. I waved when he looked my direction and he approached.
I made introductions and the kids were very good about lining up and bowing. He’s a knight, after all.
“I understand there is a meeting?” he inquired.
“Well, not exactly. I thought we’d take a moment to discuss, informally, what your plans are and how you’d like to go about it,” I said. He frowned while I had the kids go back to playing. Sedrick and I walked to the inner wall and a set of stairs along it.
“I do not discuss such matters with underlings.”
“That’s okay,” I assured him. “I’m actually the overling.”
“Beg pardon?”
“I’m Halar, King of Karvalen. And dark lord of the mountain, evil bloodsucking fiend, nightlord, fanged monster, blah-blah-blah.”
“Impossible! You are far too small to be the evil lord of darkness!”
“My girlfriend keeps telling me that size doesn’t matter,” I observed. “It’s what you do with it. But, okay. Pick someone and call them over. Ask anyone you like.”
He frowned thunderously at me and turned to call over one of the older kids, a lad about eleven or so. The boy came over and sketched a quick bow. I sat down on a step.
“My lord?”
“Who is this?” Sir Sedrick demanded, pointing at me.
“Oh, that’s the King,” he replied.
“What!?”
“Well, yeah,” the kid answered, surprised. “I mean… yes, my lord. Doesn’t everyone know that?”
“He’s not from around here,” I put in. “You’re Tamar, right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Any problems with monsters under the bed?”
“Not that I’ve heard of, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Off you go.” He belted off to rejoin his friends. Sir Sedrick, on the other hand, scowled down at me where I sat.
“Very well. I challenge—”
“Hold it. I’m not accepting any challenges anywhere near children. I forbid it here, and anywhere innocents might be harmed. I’m the King. I can do that.”
Sir Sedrick looked baffled, both because I was within my rights as a king and because it was a… well, as Amber might put it, a
nice
thing to do. Sometimes, it’s hard to be a Hero.
“But… but I challenge…”
“Not right now,” I countered. “How about tomorrow? I guarantee your safety as a guest of the King. We can do this in the morning. Would you like to challenge me in the throne room? I can get everyone to show up and witness, if you like. Or would you rather get your gear together and do so from outside the city gates? I admit, the city gate does sound more dramatic for a Hero. Ride up, shout out your challenge, and force the monster to come forth to meet you in single combat.” I shrugged. “But we’ll do our best to accommodate you, if you have anything particular in mind.”
“I… I’m not sure,” he said, confused. “I had envisioned simply throwing down a gauntlet?”
“No, no, no,” I countered. “That won’t do. You’re a Hero. You don’t challenge monsters with a gauntlet. You accuse them of their crimes, demand that they stand forth to answer for them, and force them to face their doom at the hands of a righteous man. You don’t
duel
with them.”
“But the tenets of honor require it!”
“Yes, when you’re challenging some
one
, not some
thing
,” I pointed out. “I faced hordes of demonic entities in your grandfather’s time; they were pouring through a hole in the firmament, invading the world. I held them off, killing them left, right, and center, until some magicians managed to seal the breach. I didn’t
duel
with them; I just slaughtered them.”
“That’s different,” he observed. “That was an invasion.”
“Hmm. Okay, you have a point. But, still, if I’m an irredeemable monster, I can’t be worthy of a knight’s challenge. That’s not how you do it. You go forth boldly and do battle! I know; I was a Hero, myself.”
“Well,” he said, still kind of off-balance to be having this discussion at all, “you’re also a King. There are rules about that sort of thing, challenging kings and other nobles.”
“Damn. You’re right.” I put my chin in my hand and thought. “Well, that’s a problem. I’m stumped. How do
you
picture this going down? How do you want to handle it? Just say the word and I’ll try to play my part. And have a seat; you’re hurting my neck. Here, I’ll move over.”
He sat down on a step below me, turned to the side to face me while I leaned back against the wall.
“I see this as a formal thing,” he said. “I issue the challenge, we meet on the field of combat, and I slay you for being the unholy fiend you are.”
“I can do that,” I agreed. “Where do you want to present your challenge? In the throne room, in front of the court? Or privately? Or, like I said, shouting from horseback at the gates of my city?”
“Oh. Hmm. I hadn’t really given it that much thought…”
“Yeah, I had the same problem when I was heroing. I didn’t really think much about the practical aspects; I just went out and
did
stuff. Don’t feel too bad,” I advised. “Heroes kind of have to be a little headstrong; if we weren’t, we would just stay home.”
“Fair point.”
“Tell you what, since I’ve extended you the hospitality of my home, think about it. Come up with something. Discuss it with other people—I have some bards and minstrels around here, somewhere; they’re likely to know the finer points of previous heroic deeds. Maybe you can get some ideas.”
“You’re very… understanding about this,” he said, eyeing me.
“It’s what you do, Hero. I don’t get upset at a bear swatting at me when I’m too close to her cub. I don’t get upset at a fire burning me when I put my hand in it, either. Why should I be upset with you for doing what you think is right?”
He stared at me. Apparently, my extra eyestalks were bobbing in the breeze, or something.
“Look,” I told him, “come to dinner, talk it over with people, see if they can help. If you need to, we can arrange for you to have a night of solitude for fasting and prayer and meditation and vigil and whatever. We can even set up an arena for our duel, if you think that’s the way to go. We’ve got an amphitheater on one side of the city that has really great acoustics and lots of seating. I bet we could have everyone in the city as spectators. If you give them notice, I bet you get at least a thousand more from Mochara.” I chuckled. “It’ll be the duel of the season, that. We can sell tickets and the winner gets the money.