Enlightenment

CHAPTER THIRTY

Prin and Sara exchanged relieved looks as the door quietly closed behind Jam and the mage.

Maude said, “Something bothers me, Prin. You are the fourth in line to the crown, you said. Why is that so important to the others who are sending assassins after you? I’m not diminishing what you’re saying, but trying to understand.”

“One of them behind me is determined to be queen or king instead of me. It’s that simple.”

“But . . . you are number three, behind the present king. That means four people must die,” Maude protested. “Four. It would make more sense if you were number two, or the next in line.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” Prin said. “The others in front of me will refuse because of age, illness, and whatever. I have vowed not to abstain. I will accept, although I don’t know much about it.”

Maude took up her knitting again as said, “Thank you. Now it makes more sense. You are officially number four in line, but in reality, you are next. If you die, number five on your list becomes the next king.”

“Or queen,” Prin said. “She is the one I suspect has offered the rewards and had my father murdered. But, there is more of the tangled web. Should I have three children, each of them would rise to the next to be king or queen, so the one below me on the list, and her family would be pushed away until they stand no chance of being crowned. If I have ten children, the one who wants me dead would then be eleventh, and if one of my children has a child . . . well, I really don’t know what happens then.”

“Brice will sail there and back as fast as the ships will travel, which is months from now for his first trip, but there are friends in Indore you’ve made, and others that he will. How will you know who to trust when you return there?” Maude asked.

“Brice will tell us?”

Maude said, “But you may not recognize them from his description. I have another idea I’ve already mentioned. What if Brice wears a ring that I have cast an enchantment upon? When someone places it on their finger, it will leave a trace that the three of us can see. A glow. We will know to trust that person.”

Sara said, “The idea sounds interesting, but how will Brice do that?”

“If he trusts someone, he will ask them to wear his ring, so we’ll know them.”

“Like El,” Prin said.

“But we already know El,” Sara protested.

Prin said, “There will be others. Do you know what would be better, Maude?”

“Tell me, child.”

“If we could have others see the trace the ring leaves. I mean, other sorceresses. A secret just between all of us for who to trust. If a sorceress in Indore meets a person from Gallium, Sandor, or even Queens gate, and that person has the mark . . .” Prin waited for the reason why the suggestion wouldn’t work.

Instead, Maude leaped to her feet and rushed into her workshop.

Sara threw her head back and said, “Jam is a problem we need to resolve.”

“We can’t hurt him,” Prin said. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the door slammed open and Prin’s combat instructor limped inside.

“We have work to do.” His bony finger pointed to the rear door.

“We’ve already done it today.”

“Don’t make me drag you out there by that mane of hair.”

Prin stood and raced to the door, ducking behind a bush and darting to another before he appeared. A low branch in a tree provided a foothold, and she levered herself up. Before he came outside, she had managed to climb higher and spread herself on a large limb where it would be difficult to see her from the ground, very much like a lion or a panther resting in the middle of the day.

He stood in the doorway and said, barely loud enough to hear, “So you want to play games today? This may cause you a few extra bruises, young lady.”

She didn’t move.

He did a full turn, his eyes darting from one end of the garden to another. Then he began a systematic search, all four corners and all between . . . but not up. After nearly a half hour, he went back to the door and raised his voice, “I will not put up with witchcraft hiding you. I will ask Maude to locate you and maybe use a switch on your bottom for your disrespect.”

As he started to turn and go inside, she called, “And if it is not witchcraft but just a good job of hiding from you? A weaker fighter escaping a stronger one?”

Without turning back, he called, “Then I shall pour your tea for you today. There are times when running or hiding is your best option.”

She climbed down and ran inside where he waited. “Why will you pour my tea?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Because you’re learning. I’m older, better trained and stronger. Only an idiot chooses to fight knowing he is going to lose or die. If you’ve learned there are times not to fight, I consider that I’ve done an exceptional job of teaching.”

Prin said, “But you’re here to teach me how to win a fight.”

“No, I’m here to teach you how not to lose.” He poured a cup of tea and spooned sugar and a dribble of goat milk before handing it to her. Then he fixed his own and sat beside her. “You don’t like me, much.”

“No.”

“That’s good. At least, at first. I think it’s time to change things up a mite. Sara needs to learn to protect you—and herself. But I wanted to work only with you at the beginning. Tomorrow she will join us, and I’ll yell and scream while she does the hard work.”

Sara said, “You do know that I’m sitting right across from you and hearing all you say.”

He half-turned. “Have you any objections?”

“I was upset that you left me out, at first. But after I saw how you treated Prin I was glad,” She said.

He continued, “But you wish to learn.”

Sara said, “Just before you arrived today, a nemesis named Jam busted in here with a mage in tow. A day may come when I must defeat him in a fight. But there are others who would do us harm, and I want to fight them if they come. No, I want to defeat them.”

He laughed. “You say that today, but tomorrow you’ll find yourself with bruises in places you don’t know can hurt.”

Sara said, “I heard what you told Prin and have thought about it. A person can train for a year, but the first time they get into a real fight, and they skin their knuckles or take a blow to their head, they quit. To fight, you must learn to accept pain and set it aside. There is no magic solution for that.”

The instructor asked if Prin wished a refill of her tea as if the two of them were at a tea party instead of planning how to attack and defend themselves. When she refused, he stood and limped to the front door before turning back to Sara one last time. “We’ll see if you still think that way tomorrow.”

After dark, Brice emerged from his room to eat, tired and eyes groggy. Maude joined them near the end, holding a simple, silver ring. Both Sara and Prin saw the purple glow, and as if little green candles were inside the metal.

Brice glanced at it without comment and continued eating. Maude held it in front of him. “Tell me what you think of this ring, but do not slip it on your finger.”

He accepted it. Then he turned it, examining it from different angles. “It’s nice. An emerald would make it better.”

Odd that he chose emerald. Prin said, “It’s silver.”

He glanced at it again. “I thought I saw a little green.”

Maude said, “It’s special. Now, I want you to slip it on your ring finger of your left hand.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Not at all,” She said. “Do it.” The ring went on. Almost instantly she said, “Now, take it off and let me see your finger.”

A purple glow remained on his finger, a caterpillar of purple fuzz as bright as a candle on a dark night. Prin realized that if only one person at an entire bazaar had a finger that glowed like Brice’s, she could single that person out in moments. She asked, “How long will it last?”

“Until his death,” Maude said.

Brice leaped up. “What’s going to kill me?”

They quickly explained. He peered at his ring-less finger from every angle and swore he saw nothing. Then he placed it on again as Maude explained. Only the most trusted would ever wear the ring.

Prin said, “What if a thief steals it? Did you think of that? We might have hundreds of dishonest people identified as our friends.”

“Part of the spell is made to prevent that. If your friend Jam steals and wears it, the glow will not happen. It must be a willing gift from Brice. The spell is bound to him, and the ring, of course. It will only work with, and for, Brice. Not even you and I can use it.”

Brice said, “How will I use it?”

Prin said, “Let me give you an example. You’ve heard of the man named El who managed to sneak us away from those hunting us in Indore? He risked his life to help us and turned his back on a fortune. When you meet him, you will explain that he must wear the ring and then our friends will know him, forever.”

“Only the most trusted of the trusted,” Maude said. “We thank those who give us gifts or a bargain at the market, but only those we trust with our lives will ever wear that ring. Prin will give you names and how to find the few she has.”

Prin said, “I will think on it, but Evelyn, a sorceress, and beyond the mountains are perhaps two others.”

Sara said, “Will one of them be your boyfriend, Cleanup?”

Prin pretended she ignored the barb while sipping tea. The teacup was a wonderful way to gain a few precious seconds before answering, but it didn’t slow her mind. Wait until you are doing your combat training tomorrow.

Maude said to Brice, “There will be another ring that I will wear. It is the same. Word will spread between sorceresses and others will wear similar rings. If we encounter anyone, anywhere, with that purple glow, we will know them as friends.”

Brice still didn’t seem very impressed, probably because he couldn’t see what happened after trying on the ring. But he did understand he held a power that only a few in the world knew of, and they all sat in the room with him.

They prepared to leave for the port the following morning, but Maude strolled outside and motioned to a gardener at a nearby house to approach. The gardener wore a naked sword supported by an iron ring. She said, “All of us must leave for the morning.”

“Your home will be secure,” he said.

“Will there be others of your order watching over us?”

“If you wish, Madam Maude.”

“I do.” She slipped a handful of coins into his hand without mentioning it, then turned and entered the house again. “Brice, it’s time.”

He entered the main room looking as lost as a dog left outside in a rainstorm. He carried his bag over his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

Maude said, “Anything you don’t wish to take, just leave in your room until you return. It’ll be there waiting.”

“I know. I left some things behind.”

The conversation had a false sense of sincerity and joy. They all knew things would change with the departure of Brice. The lessons in spells, castings, research, reading and a hundred other areas would become intense. The personal defense classes would get brutal. But Prin looked forward to it, as she reacted each time she passed a reflection in a window and saw her new hair.

Sara had taken time the night before, perhaps in anticipation of her combat training, to cut hers with the help of Maude. The length now hung below her ears, but no longer. She used a sticky wax to sweep back with her fingers. She gave the appearance of being ready to fight.

But Prin saw the darting eyes, the quick reactions to sharp sounds, and she knew that Sara was scared. She had watched Prin fight and lose every day for almost a month.

Outside, a carriage pulled to a stop, and the driver shook a handful of bells to tell them he was waiting. Prin was happy to see it because the distance to the waterfront was a long walk, especially when carrying a seabag.

They tried to make the trip something of a party, the four of them ignoring Brice would leave for perhaps as much as a half-year. They talked of old things, joys they’d shared, and reminded Brice of the hundred tasks they’d given him. He remembered all the answers to their questions, and as they neared the carriage depot where they’d first entered Gallium, the conversation lagged.

They wouldn’t go closer to the ship. Despite their changed appearance, from a distance, the captain or Bos’n might recognize their walk, or a gesture they made, or hear their voice. Instead, they climbed from the carriage, each with a little private time to share, and then Brice was walking to the Merry Princess, and the carriage was heading back up the hill.

Sara leaned forward and said to the driver, “There is a place ahead where you can water your horse, and we can get mugs of cold water with orange in it.”

“I know the place.”

“We will pay any fees.”

“My horse needs a drink, anyway.”

Sara refused to relent. “So, do I. Please, allow me to pay.”

The driver chuckled, “What are you trying to do? Become my favorite passenger of the day?”

“No, just remembering my first trip in a carriage here—and how well it worked out.” Sara settled back into her seat. The water was as cold and refreshing as Prin recollected, and from Sara’s soft smile, Prin knew she did too.

Maude said, “That boy was somewhere around the ship, watching it. I felt the tag getting stronger even though it’s almost three days old and should be depleted. He’ll try to cause problems for Brice, you know.”

Prin said, “Brice can take care of himself.”

“Better than when we found him,” Sara added.

Maude said, “But perhaps not well enough when you consider what lengths your friend Jam has already gone to. I fear this is a critical time for Brice. Your captain is Jam’s father, and the bos’n has known him his whole life. Never underestimate the power of family.”

Prin said, “What do you mean?”

“While they have good intentions, will they sail and leave Jam on the docks with no money or friends? If he presents himself, or since he knows the ship so well, stows away in a small compartment, what will they do?”

Sara said, “They’ll take him along after another stern warning.”

Maude crossed her arms over her ample chest and peered hard at the two girls. “Then what would happen?”

Prin was already climbing down. “We can’t let that happen.”

Maude took her by her shoulder and pulled her back in the carriage. She told the driver, “You will deliver them to the house where you picked us up.” Then she set her foot in the stirrup and onto the step, then the ground.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked.

“Rest assured dears, that Jam will not sail on the Merry Princess. Not this trip.” She spun and walked in the same direction as Brice.

Prin watched her as she left them sitting stunned, and saw the now familiar shimmer of Maude changing her features, even though she watched from behind. Maude seemed to grow taller, thinner, her back stood straighter, and her head was held higher. She swung her arms as she walked, and her hips swayed like those of a twenty-year-old.

And Jam wore the tag for tracking him, losing power because of its age, but it was so close Maude could follow it with her eyes closed. The horse had finished drinking, the maid collected the empty mugs and a coin from Sara. The driver clucked at the horse and slapped the reins on its rump. The wagon lurched ahead.

Prin said to Sara, “What do you think she’s going to do?”