The Melaki Chronicle (11 page)

Read The Melaki Chronicle Online

Authors: William Thrash

Melaki figured she must have had much practice at it being
married to Neret. “Come then. It is a short ride to Soam's Crossing and more
comfortable there.”

She nodded and they began preparing for the ride.

As they rode out of Tolam's Ford, he said, “Will you be
leaving the Northlands?”

“I do not know. I do not want to return to the mainland and
face the shame of defeat before my family. They invested much to marry me to
Neret.”

“What will you do?”

“Stay here, I suppose. I can be of help to you.”

“Me?”

“I do not want to be alone.” Her voice quavered.

His leading light splashed back towards them and pulled blue
and black shadows from her face.

“But me? Why not another stakeholder? I hold nothing.”

“I did not come for a stake. I came to support my husband.
You have been kind – more kind than any other I have known. I would help you,
not another pig who would use me as a pack animal.”

Melaki was silent to that.

“Let me aid you in what you do.”

“An extra hand is welcome, Tila. Do not worry that I will
cast you out alone.”

She sobbed. “My thanks to you.”

 

*  *  *

 

“That building there.” Melaki pointed. They looked at the
manor house.

The tavern he had helped Talin secure would remain Talin's.
The wizard did not want his stake at Soam's to be anything other than a
stepping stone to a town or even Kellerran itself.

“Stables,” Tila said. “A garden plot there. Two stories,
made of stone. I think you picked the best building in the village.”

He shrugged. “I do not know how much longer I will be here.
I might as well have a comfortable place.”

“What are your plans, anyway?”

He sighed. “I do not know, but I do not think they will have
anything to do with the Altanlean Empire.”

“Why so?”

“I am not Altanlean.”

“I did not think you were, but why would that--”

“I have no love for the empire.”

“Oh? Despite you wearing the most prestigious of robes--”

“These are nothing.”

She cocked her head at him. “How can you say that? Your
braid tells me you are ninth or tenth--”

“Ninth ward.”

“That is still an impressive accomplishment.”

“It really was not and I am not all that good at what I
earned.”

“But you earned it.”

How could he tell her the truth? Would she understand? He
did not manipulate magic as he was supposed to. “My magic is weaker and I can
not hold it for very long. I tire faster than others of my rank.”

She squinted at him. “So?”

“So, I wish to leave. I want to take my instruction and--”

“And go where? The lands of the savages?”

“Do I look like a savage to you?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Except that you look like them.”

He chuckled. “What if they are not savages? What if they
were all like me?”

“But we are told by the imperial--”

“What you are told is often carefully prepared to elicit a
certain reaction.”

“What?” she said. “Why would they lie to us?”

“Political gain. Money. Wealth. Power. Do you really imagine
those things do not corrupt?”

She frowned.

They walked into the manor house. It was clean and fairly
well-kept throughout.

“I can fix that jamb,” she said.

“You?”

“I know some carpentry.”

“You?”

Tila stood her full height and looked up at him. Her chin
jutted up in defiance. “Yes. I was taught.” The blaze in her eyes dared him to
challenge her.

“Peace, woman.” He held up his hands. “You fix the door,
then.”

She gave a curt nod and left to go find tools. Plenty of
implements of normal living lay where they were left when the village was
conquered.

 

*  *  *

 

Melaki closed his book of notes. Diagrams of patterns he
suspected might work were folded into the leather binding and placed onto the
shelf in his study. He was intrigued by the similarity in the imperial usage of
spirits and the demons he had fought.

He pointed to his light and detached it, causing it to
follow.

Tila was sitting in a chair by the fire, reading. She had
taken the books from what became his study. He did not want them in there.

She watched him pass in the room.

He climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. It was warm
up here, the heat from the fireplace rising in the house to make the three
rooms upstairs comfortable. He pulled off his robe and then his breeches.
Dressed in his shirt and small-clothes, he settled into bed.

He listed in his mind tasks for himself. He would have made
a summoning for pigs or sheep, but he needed either a pen for the pigs or to
make sure the surrounding lands were pacified for sheep. If he penned pigs,
there was nothing to feed them. Maybe chickens would be better.
Start small.

He was drifting to sleep when Tila opened his door.

He bolted up, forming a force pattern in his mind.
Undead?
He patterned a light as he finished his force magic. But he saw her and
released the force pattern.

She was wrapped securely in a blanket. She said nothing and
did not move, except to wrap the blanket tighter.

Melaki said nothing, either.
Was she naked under the
blanket? Wanting something?
It did not look like she did. She rather had a
look of fear. He moved to the edge of the bed and lifted back his blanket,
exposing a spot for her.

She came the the bed and laid down next to him, still
tightly wrapped in her blanket. She let him cover her.

He released the light and they slept.

CHAPTER 6

 

Melaki poured hot water from the kettle into the tub.

The well outside had been clean and he had expended some
strenuous magic to fill the cistern attached to the manor house. Up and down
went the bucket, but fast.

He thought about the irrigation aqueducts of the Altanlean
Empire, but much material would be needed and more digging. But if he could run
a duct from a higher point on the creek by the town, he could fill the cistern
without having to use magic.

What would I do though once I filled it? The duct would
still pour water.
He scratched his head. Those were enough thoughts on
water. He was going to enjoy his daily bath. He would repeat the process for
Tila right after. They used the third room upstairs as a washroom.

She did not use her room much, sleeping next to him at night
for a sense of comfort. He had not so much as seen her bare elbow. Not that it
mattered.

But he had grown accustomed to hearing her breathing and the
warmth of her body next to his even as tightly wrapped as she cocooned herself
in her blanket.

Soam's Crossing was pacified. He had seen no undead nearby
nor sensed them at any close distance. Something still fluttered at the edge of
his senses to the north. Kellerran.

Finishing his bath, he brushed his robe and then donned it.
He brushed his hair and scrubbed his teeth.

Hefting the tub, he dumped the water out the window. Then he
set about refilling it with warm water for Tila.

“Your bath is ready,” he said to her. He shut the bedroom
door and let her get up. She was modest, showing him nothing more than her
neck.

He descended the stairs and set about making coffee and
preparing a meager breakfast. Neret and Tila's stores had added to what little
they had. He put out an apple each for them and a small slice of cheese. Food
would have been a problem if they had not discussed it a few days before.

He heard the rush of water falling to the cracked, paved
gutter outside. She came down a minute later, dressed and refreshed. He handed
her a cup of bad coffee. He took the brush from her other hand and she sat by
the fire to sip her drink. He brushed her wet hair. It was long, wavy, and very
thick.

She sighed contentedly.

“Tired of our bad coffee already?”

“Hmm? This? Oh, I suppose I have had better.”

He ran his fingers through the black silk of her hair. Then
the brush. Satisfied all the tangles were removed, he handed her the brush.
“All ready for you.”

“My thanks to you, wizard.” She set about braiding her hair
in deft twists and moves.

“Talin should return tomorrow,” he said.

“Will I be a problem to him?”

“I do not believe so. But he is an arrogant man, much in the
vein of your late husband – and moreso.”

“So he might find a reason to disapprove.” Her shoulders
slumped a little.

“Indeed. But I will remind him that he had wanted
cooperation to pursue his stake.”

“Yes, I remember him telling us how much better it would all
be if we gave up our intentions to stake a claim and just helped him.”

Melaki laughed. “As if anyone on the First Charter would be
crazy enough to do such a thing.”

“That's what my husband said.”

He fell silent.

It was a subject raw and potentially hazardous to the
dryness of her cheeks.

Outside was another day. Waters moved slowly overhead, undulating,
casting light in moving patterns. When would his vision of falling rocks come
about?

He used summoning control to move the chickens into the
repaired coop. He sensed toward his pattern drawn into the ground. The sheep
were still there and his pattern still working. It was not perfect; the pattern
had to be refreshed twice a day. He had decided to try a pattern drawn into the
land to see if it would hold the animals loosely together – without his
concentration. It worked, but weakened over time. He did not have time to
experiment with that magic and kept his pattern out of sight of Tila. Best not
to have too many questions. He would need to erase them before Talin returned.
Just a glance would indicate a different magic and then the wizard would not stop
until he knew everything.

Five chickens. Three were roosters. It was a start. Provide
them with a little care and protection and the two hens would start laying
eggs.

“Melaki,” Tila called.

“Here, woman.” He shut the door to the coop and the small
fenced area. He would let them out again later. They needed to get used to the
coop as their home.

“Visitors.”

He straightened. But there was no panic in her voice. Not
undead, then. He walked around the building and into the center square. They
had buried the charred bones their first day back from Tolam's Ford.

A merchant and his wife were there, horse and cart with
them. The cost of bringing such an animal from the mainland must have been
exorbitant. The man was tall and angular, clean shaven. He bore a large sword
on his back that looked too heavy to lift. His wife was a frail-looking woman
with stray strands of gray floating about her pretty face.

“I am Gramm, merchant of the CoinMasters Guild.”

Melaki raised his eyebrows. A prestigious position, indeed.
He wondered why the man had not been in the First Charter. Anyone could be a
merchant. Only the best were elected into the guild.

“I am Melaki and this is Tila.”

His horse nickered from the stable.

The merchant bowed his head. “This is my wife Bena.”

The woman peered at them intently, a frown on her face. “I
did not know wizards married.”

“They do not,” Melaki said.

“Oh? I see she has the marriage necklace--”

“She is not my wife.” He sighed.

“My husband is dead, eleven days gone now.” Tila's voice
quavered a little.

Just too raw a subject for her.

“Oh, my dear,” said Bena. “You have my sorrow.”

“Life it what it is,” said Tila, repeating typical Altanlean
instruction in school.

“What goods have you?” Melaki changed the subject.

The smile that lit the angular face was bright and crinkled
the eyes. “The finest Altanlean tobacco.”

He looked at Tila. “Neither of us indulge in the pipe.”

Gramm was not immediately dissuaded. Smiling brighter, he
pulled a pouch from the cart. Holding it open he slowly passed it close to
Melaki's face, and then Tila's.

The aroma was at once fantastic and alluring. Melaki sensed
to see if magic was at work, but there was none. His mind filled with
sensations of leather, walnut, rum, and honey. No magic, just a very fine
product. “That is an amazing--”

“It is very relaxing, to pipe this when sitting under a tree
or by a fire at night” Gramm was still smiling, happy to even just talk about
his wares.

“I am tempted to try it,” Melaki said. “But I have no pipe.”

That infectious smile broadened. Gramm slid a long case out
from the cart and opened it. The box almost had the appearance of a cachement.
Inside were inset several pipes of various sizes. “Only the best,” he said.

“Why are the sizes different?”

“These long ones put more aroma into the air around you.
These shorter ones with the larger bowls put more of the tobacco flavor into
your mouth.”

“Flavor?”

“Oh, yes. These tobaccos have a flavor as fascinating as
their aroma. Will you buy a pipe, wizard? I will give you a pouch of tobacco
for free with it and you can decide for yourself.” The merchant's eyes
sparkled, but with no deceit.

Melaki chuckled. “Very good then, I will buy that pipe
there.” He picked a medium length stem.

“A fine choice. Do you have imperial coin or any of the
trinkets...” His tone said he preferred the trinkets.

Melaki fished in his pouch for a cachement trinket. He
produced a pendant with small emeralds inset in silver. “Good?”

“Very good, wizard, and my thanks to you.” Gramm pocketed
the trinket and slid his choice into a leather case. He put the leather case
into the cloth tobacco pouch and handed it to Melaki. “This is Soam's
Crossing?”

“Indeed.”

“Ah, end of our trip then. This was the last stake.”

“Yes. North a ways is Kellerran.”

Gramm nodded, a pondering frown on his face. “May we reside
here a while? The Second Charter should be coming through and those wishing to
explore Kellerran.”

“You have your own provision?”

Gramm cocked his head sideways and raised an eyebrow as if
implying Melaki insulted him.

He shrugged. “The stake-holder is Talin. He should return
tomorrow. But I see no reason you can not.”

“Good then. I should like to explore Kellerran myself to see
what might be of salvage.”

“It is not pacified, and evil resides there.”

“I merely wish to follow along after everyone else, to see
if there might be items of interest to those on the mainland.”

Melaki nodded in thought. The merchant might find a
peculiarity – some carvings or other – and sell them back in the empire as
relics of the necromancers. “Even Talin would have no objections.”

“This area is pacified, I imagine?”

He nodded to Gramm. “Indeed. Talin returned to Balis Port to
report it so. I have sensed nothing nearby, since.”

Bena chortled. “Oh, that must be a useful talent. But I
should expect as much from a wizard of the tenth--”

“Ninth,” Melaki said.

“Oh?” She frowned at his sleeve. “Oh yes, I see now. Please
pardon me--”

“No insult was taken, lady.” He bowed his head slightly.

“You seem unlike other wizards,” she said.

“Bena.” Gramm gave her a tender look that said “shut your
mouth” as if he had shouted it.

She slapped his arm, but pursed her lips. She gave him a
loving look in return.

Melaki grinned. “The tavern there is Talin's. The manor
house over there is mine. All of the other buildings are serviceable.”

Tila said, “I will repair the door-jamb of whatever you
select.”

“You?” said Bena.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, me.”

Bena's eyebrows climbed.

“She does a fine job, too,” he said.

Gramm frowned for the first time. “Were you taught?”

Tila's chin came up. “I was.”

Gramm's frown deepened. “Did he know he could be banished
for it?”

Her chin rose higher, but she said nothing.

Gramm waved his hand and the smile returned. “But it is not
my guild and not my interest to report such.”

“Will you fall over if I fix your door-jamb?”

Gramm laughed and it was pregnant with mirth. “Oh, no. I
think not. But I might like to watch. A woman carpenter...”

“Tila--” Melaki said.

His horse nickered from the stable.

He looked at Tila the horse. She was standing up against the
railing, ears pitched forward. Sala stood next to her, looking sleepy. But the
two animals were taking turns slapping their tails back and forth at each
other.

“Hmm?” said Tila the woman.

“When you are done, perhaps we should go and scour Tolam's
Ford for supplies. Before it gets restaked.”

She nodded. “I think your horse is jealous of me.”

“It is not what you think.”

“Are you actually blushing, Master Wizard?”

“I... Well...”

 

*  *  *

 

Melaki rode Tila the horse. Pulling a cart alongside was
Sala. Tila the woman rode on his other side. “I suppose we should send message
back to Balis Port about the stake.” He did not want to mention Neret's death.

She sighed. “Where out of the Altanlean Empire were you
going?”

“Iberia, perhaps.”

“Savage lands, those.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. He could not tell her that his
origins came from deeper in those lands. He could not tell her that he
remembered and remembered well.

Tolam's Ford was as they had left it.

She went quiet and lowered her eyes.

They searched out buildings for basic foodstuffs or useful
items. Cellars produced rice, though most of it was rancid. Some vegetables in
glass jars were found, and more coffee.

Melaki had no doubt the coffee would be just as vile as what
they already had.

A few casks of rum were found and loaded into the cart. Sala
waggled her ears and watched impassively. Tila the horse kept moving close and
showing teeth.

“Be nice to each other,” Melaki said. He heaved a sack of
grain onto the cart. It had not looked moldy. The had not found very much, but
what they had would help until some kind of supply runs could be made.

“Sausages?” Tila said. She heaved a rope of them into the
cart.

“I hope they are still good.” He saw her carrying a satchel,
filled. “What do you have there?”

Her eyes lit up. “Books.”

He chuckled. She read every night. “Shall we go?”

She sighed and looked around. Hands on hips. She glanced
towards the graveyard where Neret was buried. “I believe we have what we need from
here.”

He watched her mount. For once, her eyes were not watering
when considering Neret.

“Why Iberia?” she said a little later.

He shrugged. “Why anywhere?”

“Do you not think it would be dangerous for an imperial
wizard?”

He lifted his arm and regarded his robes. “Perhaps I should
not wear them.”

Her mouth opened in shock. “But you earned them.”

He had and he knew it. Doubly so in that he had earned them
having to hide his magic to pass the tests. No initiate had ever had it so
tough in the testing. Could he really take off the robes? Could he take away
the only thing he had earned in his life? He had been a success, and he wanted
the world to see it. He had overcome the Rukha and he wanted everyone to know
it.

He might face persecution in Iberia over the robes; he was
not sure. But his appearance was not Altanlean. What matter the color of his
robes? They would see him as he was: of their own people.

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