It was two full days of sailing to Calliope, which meant Amelia had two full days of drills, tabletop exercises, and tabletop exercises to ensure she was prepared, on top of the all-important tightrope walking.
"...and how does this help, again?" asked a certain Negative Noonsa who didn't know anything about diplomacy, from his perch on the topgallant mast.
Amelia paused mid-recitation, annoyed. She was proceeding along a stretch of rope between the fore and main moonrakers and she had been doing just fine, thankyouverymuch. "Daddy says that you're really ready for a speech if you can say all of it while walking on a tightrope with six books on your head."
"And you have to do it fifty-five feet in the air. On a boat."
"If you didn't," and she very carefully positioned one foot in front of the other, "it would be cheating."
"Of course."
She went back to her scripted lines about the terrible danger of imprudent seigniorage and made it almost seven whole steps forward when something lurched, either her legs or the ship beneath her, and she plunged down into the net far below. Amelia put both knees up into a pike position and bounced back up again like a rubber ball. Her books scattered, some into the net and some lost forever to the ocean floor, where only invertebrates would be left to appreciate The History of Butter (vol. 7).
Amelia missed a deft landing atop the rope on her way back up, but she at least did manage to grab on. She folded both arms to her chest and hung on tight, swaying like a bob on a fishing line. When she looked down at the ocean she felt a rush of nausea. Although the nightmares hadn't fully stopped, she was so tired from her work that she'd been sleeping a tiny bit better. Now if only she didn't feel so sick and sore and rigid all over. "It'll be nice to explore a new place."
"Won't you be busy?"
"I'll have six whole hours tonight before the formal reception starts. Plenty of time for sightseeing...or uncovering their shocking crimes against commerce!"
"You should get some rest." To Amelia's irritation Zelgadis addressed her with the Truth Voice, a specific tone he reserved for incontrovertible observations that the others might have missed. It was most often for things like "we have too many arrest warrants to go back to that town" or "don't cast water spells on a grease fire." In this case he continued with "You've been working too hard as it is, everyone can tell you haven't been sleeping, and you'll need plenty of energy for tomorrow."
Truth Voice aside, they were very obvious and logical points that were impossible to argue. Amelia could only swing her feet and give a little pout for emphasis, to which he responded with a grumble about how whatever happened would be her own fault. The matter thus settled, after docking in Calliope and washing up in their new lodgings outside the king's castle, Amelia and Zelgadis went for a walk.
"Fabulous land of abundance and plenty" was over the top even by the standard of travel marketing, but Calliope seemed determined to deliver. The capital city boasted gold-edged shop windows, towering churches, and rows of homes decorated with white climbing roses. The piazzas were ample and shone with fresh stone polish. Beautiful women glided around holding boxes of cigarettes and trays of mixed drinks, which they offered to happy passersby. Musicians competed at every corner to be heard over each other's drums and horns. Everything looked expensive, everyone looked wealthy, and Amelia guessed everyone was at least mildly intoxicated.
"Wow, I love it!" cried Amelia, who had fun at festivals.
"I don't," said Zelgadis, who had fun at gunpoint.
They investigated a series of souvenir and talisman shops, all festooned with white flowers honoring Abundantia, the island's sacred goddess. Amelia noticed high-quality gems for sale at less than half the price of similar stones on the continent, and she nearly bought a new bangle when she remembered with a prick of shame that she was here to promote justice, not wrongdoing. But they're definitely up to something nefarious here!
It was hard to remember the nefarious part amidst all the bright sounds and high spirits, people dancing in the streets, and willowy flower girls swanning by to anoint them with crowns of white roses (Zelgadis dispensed with his as fast as though it'd been on fire). They followed their noses to one of what looked to be dozens of hot pot vendors chopping and ladling fresh seafood into bowls as quickly as fish could be pulled from the ocean.
"Zelgadis-san," she exclaimed, suddenly realizing where they were and the intense danger it represented, "we'd better get out of here before-"
"It's already too late," he said with the certainty of a wizened sage at peace with death.
Sure enough, in her haste to escape, Amelia bonked her head directly onto a broad breastplate she knew down to the last detail, and she could feel all her visions of a successful first solo mission wither and fall away forever.
"Amelia!" Gourry said warmly, putting both his hands on her shoulders. "Nice flower crown! Say, you look, uh..." The specific word he wanted seemed to elude him, either because it wasn't quite polite enough for his filters or it had blown away like a tumbleweed in the vast, deserted wasteland of his mind.
He was interrupted by someone with no filters or politeness at all, who always smelled like sandalwood and garlic, and who would double-cross you three times before breakfast for a shiny enough object. "Amelia! You look like crap!" Lina said, giving her a hearty thwack on the back. "Have you gotten any sleep this past decade? Hey, Zel," and Lina just tilted her head in acknowledgment, "you suck at your job."
"No need to ask what you two are doing here," he said. "We saw the flyer about the all-you-can-eat buffet."
"That is a benefit, but we're here for the scratch. We're saving up some money and there's so much of it here it's practically free. I'm gonna strike it rich just buying up rubies here and selling them in Lyzeille."
"But you can't, Lina-san!" Amelia cried. "The way they use money here is all wrong! The kingdom of Seyruun is here to investigate and put a stop to this injustice!"
"Geez, can't it at least wait until I've made a profit?"
They resumed walking with nary a word as though they'd been traveling together the entire time, even falling into their familiar line pattern with Lina leading the way. There was so much free or cheap food within grabbing distance that Lina and Gourry didn't have to stop.
"I guess you're not staying near the castle, Lina-san," Amelia said hopefully. She wondered whether she should tell the king of Calliope to lock down the buffets just to be safe.
"Nope. There are whole blocks of nice houses at the edge of town that are totally empty! So we're just squatting for now and saving even more money."
"Whole blocks of empty houses?" Zelgadis repeated. "That you're just...staying in, and no one's noticed?"
"Nice houses," Lina corrected. "All the doors have magic locks. I guess they weren't counting on beautiful sorcery geniuses being in town."
Zelgadis raised his eyebrows at Gourry, who just shrugged. "Let's check it out," the former said, because he was the sort who would rather get it over with than leave such obvious clues for the next chapter.
They set off for the outskirts of town, where the shoreline turned rocky and clustered around the edges of tall, sharp cliffs jutting into the sea. Dozens of identical new buildings perched precariously on the cliffs like they'd been dropped down from the heavens in a single prefabricated lump of fantasy mansions.
Lina saw it as a free place to sleep. Gourry saw a lot more space than any one person ever needed. Zelgadis saw the insatiable greed and insipid aesthetics of the nouveau riche. Amelia just saw a flashing red diplomatic incident.
"Zelgadis-san," she whispered, "I really don't want to get in trouble before the summit."
He looked at her with a total absence of sympathy. "You could have just gotten some rest."
She was mature enough to recognize he was right, but not quite mature enough to resist an indignant little huff. To be honest, she was glad she wasn't resting. Something about it felt like belonging again-almost like a family, or whatever you called it when people loved each other even when they were threatening to fry each other with fireballs. It meant a lot more than blood relatives, she knew that much. There was no substitute for stretching out in a meadow on a sunny day with her eyes closed and being able to predict the exact notes Gourry would whistle and when, or knowing the specific sound of Lina's pointed boots kicking around the grass. She knew them, they knew her, and it felt good.
Amelia was always the most vocal (well, the only one vocal at all) about how much she loved being with her friends and how much they meant to her, but she was sure they all secretly felt the same way. What mattered was being together. And this was why she forcibly ignored her throbbing ankle, her mysteriously pained jaw, and every element of her better judgment yelling at her to turn around while Lina led them up the road to the neighborhood where she and Gourry were squatting.
At the front door, Lina recited the incantation for Unlock, and had almost finished when a stranger in a dramatic purple cape appeared from behind a nearby house.
"They don't teach that in the guild," the stranger said with approval. "Sorceress, huh?"
Lina turned around with a not-quite scowl. "Who wants to know?"
"He does," Gourry said helpfully. Amelia didn't even have to look to sense the blunt punch upside the head that followed.
"Anyway," Lina said, "who are you?"
"I'm Calthorn, the chief of the capital chapter of Calliope's Casting and Conjuring Circles." He paused, waiting for some recognition of this neat assembly of assonance that never came. He was an older man with dark, oily hair and a crooked nose that a younger Amelia would have instantly considered villainous. Now she just thought he could use a better shampoo. "We're always looking for new recruits with the talent to serve. Why don't you come by and audition for a role? It's a great opportunity."
Lina looked at him with contempt. "Buddy, I don't know who you think you are, or who you think I am, but I don't have to prove myself to anybody and I don't 'serve' jack. Buzz off, willya?"
Calthorn weathered the rejection gracefully. "Suit yourself," he said, and moved to leave. "I'll be around if you want your fortune back."
"I-hey!"
He had already disappeared, which left the others no choice but to give chase. The edges of the purple cloak fluttered in brief, tantalizing glimpses around corners and atop roofs at such speed that a less experienced gang of adventurers might have taken him for a teleporting mazoku.
"He's everywhere!" Gourry cried, who despite his experience was still Gourry. He swung back and forth, sword at the ready, then tripped over something invisible at his feet and landed hard on his own chin.
Lina inhaled hard, lip curled in anger, and launched a volley of Flare Arrows. "Hey, asshole! Nobody hits Gourry but us!"
"He's just casting Illusion!" Zelgadis warned. "Gourry, it's okay! Don't look, just listen!"
But it was hard to pick out footsteps across the echoing, empty bricks, so the chimera with extra-sensitive ears led them through street after identical street, over gleaming stones and around perfectly manicured bushes. They finally caught up to Calthorn near the cliff's edge, where Lina sent an overpowering Rune Flare in his direction. He pulled up a Balus Wall just in time to split the flare in pieces and it went careening like parallel banners into the sea below.
"Lina-san, please!" Amelia said between grit teeth. "I'm a guest of honor here! Don't overdo it!"
"Like hell!" Lina roared.
Calthorn looked at Lina disdainfully. "Consider the invitation rescinded," he said. "The king of Calliope is looking for mature, disciplined sorcerers, not impulsive brats…" and he sneered, rippling his zig-zagged nose, "...with washboard chests."
Calthorn unwisely seemed to have assumed he humbled her into silence. Thousands of nearby creatures, from giddy dolphins to birds to brass demons hiding out in the mountains, unknowingly breathed their last. A gentle breeze rolled in from the north.
Amelia and Zelgadis took off, half-running and half-Raywinging their way back towards the central city. They knew by now they had exactly twenty-six seconds to run away and prevent as many casualties as they could. But there was no one at all to warn. The entire area around the edge of town was completely deserted.
Amelia could see her name in a weathered old encyclopedia under the entry Worst Ever Princess of Seyruun. "I didn't mean for this to happen!" she wailed.
"Why did you think this time would be different?!" Zelgadis shouted.
"I believe in people!"
The flash of light came from behind, then eclipsed her, and they tumbled into a sandy clearing along the water just as the enchanted fire leveled the entire cliff behind them. There was nothing left of the tacky proto-village or the mountain on which it was built, just a massive crater and plumes of sulphurous yellow smoke.
Amelia pulled herself upright, joints aching, and started preparing herself for a nasty conversation with Calliope's king. All she had wanted, more than the world, was to end the summit with a letter home to her father-I have the most wonderful news! You'll never guess what happened… and highlighting her great achievements for the people of Seyruun. Now she'd be lucky if she wasn't persona non grata by the end of the night.
"Let's go, Zelgadis-san."
"It's about time."
They set back on their way towards the city, Amelia limping behind on her less than steady feet. A group of people had assembled at a beachfront bar to see more of the smoldering hole in the ground, but for witnesses of unholy black magic destruction derived from a Dark Lord himself they were strangely at ease. When they saw Amelia and Zelgadis approaching from the other direction they waved with their flower-festooned drink glasses.
"Say, were you guys near there? What happened? Looks bad!"
"Another blast, huh?"
"What is that, the third time in eight months?"
When no answer came, the crowds turned back to the more important business of drinking, eating, and dancing. Amelia blinked multiple times. She even turned back to make sure that she hadn't imagined the entire Dragon Slave and subsequent fallout. But it had indeed happened, and no one seemed to care. A pretty waitress swung by to take advantage of their astonishment and placed a pina colada in each of their hands. Far in the distance a voice moaned "Our savings!"
"Whatever's going on here," Zelgadis said, "you'd better figure it out, fast."
The king of Calliope had set up his esteemed guests from Seyruun in a sprawling estate just outside the castle that was every bit as ostentatious as a royal residence. There were fountains and gardens, apiaries and peacocks, and at least three times as many decorative columns per square foot than necessary. Handwritten invitations informed the princess and her retinue of an outdoor concert and fireworks the following night, maybe in an attempt to charm their way out of sanctions. It might have worked on the version of Amelia they had in their heads, a naive and helpless young woman buffeted by family tragedy. It wouldn't work on the real Amelia, who fought monsters with her bare hands and played a punishing game of chess. Although, Zelgadis thought, she'll probably like the peacocks.
Zelgadis slung on his formal gold-edged robes with a sigh and dutifully went to join the other palace knights in the back of the parlor. Before major events Amelia always made a point of thanking the whole household. Amelia viewed Seyruun's palace staff as more of her charges than employees, a community to whom she was responsible, like some kind of micro-mayor.
Amelia stood with her hands clasped under her chin, ready to address the assembly. She wore a bell-shaped, dark pink dress that threatened to engulf anything in its path, and had opted for an elaborate floral hairpin instead of a tiara; she looked like a sparkly pink cocktail. What? That must be the pina coladas talking.
"Good evening, everyone!" she said. Four dozen of the royal staff, from cleaners to cooks, fit comfortably around the room's many tufted couches and fringed ottomans. It was all jewel tones and precious metals thrown together without sense or taste, like the decorator had asked for the most expensive possible options. "To all of you wonderful strong and loyal workers, to my brave and handsome knights, to the best ladies who keep up the whole royal household!
"Thank you for everything you do to support our kingdom. I know traveling away from home can be hard, but we have a responsibility to bring justice and integrity to the whole world! Let's keep working with strong and pure hearts together so that justice can always prevail!
"Please take tonight and tomorrow morning off," she added. "I set aside stipends for you all, so you can enjoy the festival in town."
This won her cheers and applause. She turned on her heel, which rolled in a painful-looking way and almost sent her stumbling. As the others hurried away, eager to get started with celebrating, Zelgadis caught up with Amelia on her way out in the other direction.
"Zelgadis-san!" she said, beaming. "Will you make an appearance tonight?"
"I'll be working." He turned away before he could see a shadow briefly cross her face. "You're sure you're up to this?"
"Of course! It's just talking and dancing."
"Don't dance too much, then," he said, and swore inwardly. There were many reasons why he wasn't overtly kind more often, not least of which being that every time he tried it came out like a threat. Don't dance too much? Nice going, princess cop. Unsure how to recover, Zelgadis clumsily excused himself and decided to forget about it. The staff's absence for the night was a perfect opportunity to learn more about the lurid and secretive drug-induced ecstasies of the working classes.
After changing back into his regular clothes he started in the kitchen. He had dozens of tiny satchels and bottles for collecting samples, a discreet notebook and pen, and a rehearsed cover story about needing medicine for a headache. With all the bulk goods still packed for travel, it was an easy task. He took hefty pinches of everything he could find, with a special emphasis on anything missing a distinctive smell or taste. Prepared, alone, and working in silence: Zelgadis was completely in his element.
He crept from room to room in search of anything that would further the search. He was beginning to form a few theories on a spectrum from "wacky improbable mix-up" to "insidious assassins", with no idea as to which might be more likely. So some of the maids dabbled in unconventional medicine. So what? Zelgadis had once agreed to kitchen labor in the hopes of a clue to the Claire Bible and after four hours he would have Mono Volt-ed himself just to feel something. He was more wary of anyone who could do menial labor for a living and not turn to illicit substances.
Recent transcripts from other spies had nothing about harming or even disliking Amelia. She mostly came up in discussions of valerian and lavender tea blends from the famed Cosmopolitan Tea Traders that might help her sleep. Was it another code, or a way to cover their tracks? Did Amelia have any enemies in the household? Zelgadis doubted she'd ever entertained the question. She would never have suspected her staff of anything untoward, much less poisoning. Well, that was why he was around. He could assume the worst in people because Amelia never would.
Is that why I'm around? To be a walking worst-case scenario? At least it was kind of an answer, albeit a superficial one. There were much bigger whys that loomed large in the recesses of his mind: why he'd returned to Seyruun at all, why Phil had offered him a knighthood in the first place, or most vexingly, why he'd accepted it.
A long time ago Zelgadis had assumed that his hapless misadventures with Lina and the others would be a brief but mostly fond period of his youth. He'd developed a detailed fantasy of being an old man, wistfully taking out Amelia's bracelet from a dusty and long-forgotten pine box. But instead things just...kept happening. You could set your watch by the way Shabranigdu showed up. Over the past six years there had been more Giga Slaves than school board elections in Solaria. He'd even managed to return Amelia's bracelet. And then the whole knighthood thing.
Phil had given him the position. Although Zelgadis insisted it was an official appointment that he was in no place to refuse, the truth was more nuanced. He wasn't a citizen or subject of Saillune; not even a king could order him to do anything. Moreover, he certainly didn't offer anything that Phil didn't already have, what with the hundreds of thousands of capable soldiers, palace guards, and knights in service. But Phil had asked for him specifically, for reasons Zelgadis didn't understand.
Never mind that Phil was just as much a nonsense magnet as Lina. When the prince proposed the knighthood he might as well have said hey, you know how you have a knack for accidentally blowing up innocent towns, cross-dressing with your buddies and facing down the Evil Lords? Want to keep doing that? And Zelgadis had said yes, for reasons he still didn't understand either. So the adventures hadn't ended. They'd gotten more expensive, maybe a bit less frequent, but they kept on going.
It could be that he was just abysmal at being a lone wolf, or-and he feared this more than anything-he was just as ridiculous a person as his friends. Maybe there were other reasons that he didn't know how to admit, much less articulate, that made him take his job seriously.
After a few hours of sampling, tagging and cross-referencing, Zelgadis had collected an apothecary's worth of teas and tinctures. The most promising leads came from the drawers where people stashed their diaries and non-standard issue underwear (Zelgadis felt a mixture of embarrassment and inadequacy at how much people were getting up to on such a short trip). It was a good guess that any unusual herb bag hidden under a love note was probably stronger than green tea. With all the bottles full, he was ready to retire for the night when a particular scrap of parchment in a maid's drawer caught his eye.
It was an exceedingly detailed chart marked in dark blue ink, with rows of abbreviated names, pairs of numbers, astrological signs, and complex black magic sigils. And at the very top of the chart, in a childish but unmistakable script: Sir Z Gry.
Zelgadis's first temptation was to grab the paper, study it and return it later, but he thought better of it and attempted a hasty transcription in his notebook. He was no longer so sure about his wacky mix-up theory. There was clearly something more elaborate afoot, but it involved somebody taking notes on their grand celestial intrigue, which meant Zelgadis was about to be mixed up in something spectacularly incompetent, evil, or both. He really hoped Amelia was having a better night.