Capriones 8/4/2006
Disclaimer: We shall make use of several of the characters from The Slayers, none of whom belongs to us.
Chapter Fifteen -- Delusion Engenders Mistrust
"Our stuff! Are they mashing my clothes? That's all I have!" Filia cried out, and then choked on a mouthful of water. "Ugh! I swallowed the water! It's probably filled with all their filth. Gods, I'm going to be sick!"
Lina continued to tread water as she watched Xelloss use the orb-ended part of his staff to gently push his way through the crowd. When he reached the edge of the pier he waved the stick.
"Everything okay?" he called.
"No! Go away. Send everyone away!" she yelled back.
She could see his smile, and then she could make out his movements, shooing folks back to their business and leaving him with his business, which was really just her and Filia's business. He stood watching them, arms folded with his staff lodged firmly in the crook of his arm until everyone had gone. He bent over, picking through a pile of clothes. When he straightened up, he was smiling and holding up the two towels in a hand.
"You can come back now. All's clear," he called out again.
Lina and Filia swam closer, close enough to exchange conversation without shouting.
"No, it's not. You're here," Filia snapped. "Now, shoo!"
"Why were they all gawking at us like we were monsters?" Lina asked, more genially.
"Because, Capriones don't swim. Witches float, you see, at least that is what is believed. One way to prove you aren't a witch is not to be able to swim. I know, stupid, really, but as I told you, we are a superstitious people. Not all is useful or good for us. Can I give you a hand getting out?" Xelloss said.
"No, we're just in our underwear," Lina said, wishing she hadn't stimulated his imagination, causing his smile to widen. "Scratch that. Just vamoose, okay?"
"Okay. Oh, and don't be too hard on my servant boy. He thought you were drowning and ran to get me to save your lives. I told him he had done the right thing and said you would want him to keep the payment you had given him for his quick thinking. Oh, and Gourry is hosting lunch at his tent, if you are interested. Bye, now," Xelloss said, chuckling, and left, the sound of his staff tapping on the wooden pier fading away.
"Lunch," Lina muttered to Filia as they swam the last few laps to the pier. "We haven't even had breakfast—a real one. I'm starving."
"Me, too, but it was worth missing a meal to get cleaner than we were," Filia reminded her as they maneuvered carefully up the rotting rungs of a neglected ladder from the water to the upper lever of the structure.
"Yeah, there's that, I suppose," Lina reluctantly agreed. "Brrr..."
A breeze blew over the water, chilling them instantly. Both girls wrapped themselves in the towels, letting the water run off and onto the weathered planks, and shivered a few seconds.
"Hey Xelloss!" Lina hollered.
His retreating back turned and he slowly returned to the shoreline. "You called?"
"Yeah, can you come out here a min? I have a question eating me."
Xelloss did as she asked, covering the distance with his quick, but elegant, gait, all the while his face showed mild amusement. When he joined them at the end of the pier,his eyes flickered over Lina, then crinkled shut as he smiled, imagining her form underneath the scanty towel.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Look down here and tell me what you see," Lina said, pointing over the edge of the pier as she clutched her towel tightly around her.
He leaned over, curious and unsuspecting.
"Nothing. What should I see?"
With all her considerable strength, Lina pushed and over he went into the water with a terrific splash.
"A trickster!" she shouted.
She and Filia stood above, laughing as his head bobbed up. He was completely dressed, shoes included, so in order to keep his head above water he had to use his arms and legs, exercising energetically. He was not happy.
Lina lay on the sun-bleached wood planks and looked down. "Need a hand out?"
"No," he said, as he first retrieved his floating staff, and then labored over to the rickety ladder.
Filia pulled Lina to her feet and out of the way.
"He looks miserable all dripping wet," she said. "Well done."
Xelloss stepped closer to Lina, meeting her gaze directly, and asked, "You want to justify that or just let me guess?"
He was cold. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, making his voice sound harsher than usual. Lina suddenly was afraid he might hit her. She backed away, pushing the pile of clothes along as she went, before he dripped water on her and them, and then put on her brave face.
"You said the Capriones can't swim," Lina said. "But that's nuts. Most the Capriones are runaways who've joined up or folks who've been captured. They probably swim fine. You can swim, or you'd be dead. Just another of your damned lies."
Xelloss didn't move, so Lina, feeling braver, met his eyes, defiantly.
"So far you've proven to me that you're good at deception, lies, and fakes– handy for a magician– but not for a partner in a battle. I'd just like it straight from you, even the little things, so I can believe I'm not throwing my life away on this fool's errand to Seyruun."
Xelloss shook from the chill, wiping his face with a sleeve to cover it up. He untied the complicated sash at his waist as he looked up at the sky, judging the time, then sighed and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
"It was just a story, Lina. I thought a harmless one."
Working off his clingy shirt he continued, "It's more . . . of a folktale about our past than of the state of things as they are today. My error in judgment."
He shook out his hair one more time. The gold chain on his smooth-muscled, goose-bump-covered chest sparkled in the sun, and from it hung the dull black Philosopher's Stone treasure.
"In the future, I will stick to absolutes."
He made a point of wringing out the sash and shirt before adding, "I'll see you once more before you leave tonight."
Before Lina or Filia could say anything else, Xelloss took off with as much pride as he could, while looking like a soggy rat.
"Nice build," Filia said when he was well out of hear shot. "Annoying jerk– that goes without saying-- but not the prissy weakling I thought he was at first. Of course, that was rather nice of him to clear the area for us and save our clothes. I suppose he could have joined the other spectators-- the letches. Anyway, not that I care particularly, but I think you got to him this time."
"Hnn," Lina grunted.
Lina's immediate feeling of elation vaporized. Her heart sank. Her mind was stuck in the middle, making her little victory feel like a defeat. Filia was right; she had hurt his feelings and damaged his ego, but what she had done was a childish prank. Lina felt cold inside as she admitted to herself that he was an attractive, well-built man, who was so far out of contention for her heart that it shouldn't matter.
But. It. Did.
"Oh course, if you just wanted his attention, I'm sure there must be better ways," Filia said.
"What? No, that's not it!" Lina snapped. "Not at all."
"Naturally. As you say. Well, we shouldn't return to our tent without bringing at least a few flowers for Amelia's hair," Filia reminded her.
(O)
Rezo was attacking Seyruun from the bottom up, beginning with arousing the passions of the people, then working his way up through the leadership, invoking action to remove all the magic users from power. The princes, Rezo suspected, were white magicians themselves, and after their usefulness to him had run out, would have to be eliminated. By promising the throne to the ambitious youngest brother, altering the natural succession, and sewing the seeds of distrust between the two elder brothers, Rezo hoped to play them against each other in the future, ending in their mutual annihilation. And if that didn't work, he'd have to destroy them himself, a nasty task he wished to avoid, and nearly impossible without the power from the Philosopher's Stone.
Prince Randolph had already begun poisoning the king. Rezo knew this was so because his Majesty's health was in sudden, rapid decline, plummeting to death. Rezo thought about the last unhappy report from the healers, satisfied with his interference so far. However, he had no time to waste in mental celebration.
Rezo selected pickled herring and toast from the offerings and returned to his chair, shaking out his napkin. It was time for the next tactical move. He had selected the earliest moment possible to begin work on the middle brother, Christopher, about whom he knew very little. The difficulty obligated him to be tactful and listen while they shared a private repast.
"I'm terribly disturbed to hear that your father, and your king, is failing. Is there nothing that can be done for him?" Rezo asked.
"Everything is being done for him. That's the problem. All the healers in the country are here, the very best. If there is nothing they can do, well, then . . . " Prince Christopher's voice trailed off, leaving him with a melancholy, half-finished thought. "I was about to return to the outlying territories, but his startling downturn requires I remain until . . ."
"Yes, of course you wish to be of any possible service. It is the king, but your father, too," Rezo said gently, his tone compassionate. "If you'd like, I could check on him?"
At one time Cardinal Rezo had been renowned entirely for his healing skill, but that was before his meteoric rise through the shrine hierarchy. Christopher looked up sharply from his scant plate of toast and fruit.
"Oh?"
"It would be the least I could do while enjoying the hospitality of this palace," Rezo added with a smile.
"Possibly," Christopher agreed, his lean, suntanned face drawn with worry behind his drooping black moustache, but his eyes narrowing as if studying the man opposite him at the table for the first time.
It was not the response Rezo had expected from the seemingly preoccupied, broken man. He had expected his offer to be snatched up instantly as a last thread of hope. Instead, the prince's resolve had returned and he appeared wary.
In some ways, Christopher was the antithesis of his older brother, Philionel; lean where Phil was heavy, weathered skin while Phil's was indoor-delicate; quiet and thoughtful, while Phil was loud and passionate. But in the most important ways, they were alike: they applied to all their policy and decision making their innate honesty, integrity, and whole-hearted conviction in the righteousness of their laws and justice system.
Rezo needed a moment to collect his thoughts. He rose from his chair to look over the food set out on the sideboard. He had plenty to choose from: piles of sausages, sliced ham, sweetbreads, and fried livers warmed by candles, assortments of rolls, bread, and pastries, egg dishes, fish, fruit– enough to feed the starving in poor houses across the land. He selected a pastry and fruit, and returned to his place at the table he shared with only the prince, deciding to take a more direct approach.
"I don't wish to be indelicate at this time," Rezo began again. "But have you considered the damage Philionel would do to the kingdom should he become its ruler?"
"Pardon?" Christopher said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
"I know he is your brother, and filial love is noble, but the man is . . . unstable." Rezo smiled warmly. "I like Philionel– don't get me wrong! But the word all over the other kingdoms is that he is more than a little eccentric, and, worse, by ignoring the edicts to report or turn over magic users to the guard, he is in violation of the Shrine's laws, which puts Seyruun in danger. Rumor is that you are the preferred choice to lead this kingdom. You are certainly widely recognized from your travels, and admired for uniting the far territories under the laws of Seyruun. Your influence is far-reaching, firmly grounded in the law, and without Philionel's penchant for the dramatic."
"Thank you for your concern, which I'm sure is based only on good intentions, but we in Seyruun do not let others decide what is best for our kingdom. The information of foreigners is incomplete and incorrect," Christopher said. He straightened his shoulders and stared directly at Rezo, his eyes boring into the other man's.
"Prince Philionel's personal campaigns for justice might appear . . . eccentric . . . to you, an outsider, but he is greatly loved and admired for leading his own attacks against marauders." Christopher avoided mentioning of his brother's use of white magic, or that of Princess Amelia, and finished his thought with affection. "He is considered to be quite inventive."
Rezo looked at Christopher and a slow smile spread to his eyes. "You have no need to play humble or loyal with me, prince. It is quaint, but unnecessary. So are your attempts to protect him. I have had terrific success in Atlas City clearing the land of the dangerous magic users. I would hate to have to include your brother, but he sets a poor example. He must be either tempered or convinced to decline the throne when it is offered him."
Christopher kept his temper with effort. He could see now that Rezo was trying to provoke him into betraying his brother. Why had he not warned the king about the pending danger of the cardinal's growing power? His father had been so blind to the danger creeping up to the borders of their kingdom. Was it already too late? Was Rezo already embedded in Seyruun? The blood burned up his face and he stumbled into speech to cover the hot silence.
"My brother does not conform to someone else's conventions, nor will he moderate his behavior or submit his ideals to anyone!"
"You justify my point," Rezo said smugly. "Philionel is unbalanced, too established in the old ways, relying on magic instead of inner strength, and generally ill-suited to take the throne. A man of your more moderate bearing and high intelligence will rule far more effectively, at the king's death."
"If he dies, you must mean," Christopher reminded him. "The king still lives."
"Ah, yes. That is true. Perhaps, I should see him now and determine for how long?"
Christopher stood. "If you insist. I will accompany you."
Rezo followed the prince from the dining hall, displeased with how his meeting had concluded. He wanted Christopher to be angry and distrustful of his brother, not with him. If only he had the Philosopher's Stone of power! He would have no need of allies like these. He would be all powerful. Where was it? Why was Lina Inverse still free? Where was his grandson hiding?
He made a mental note to divert a few more of his guards to scour the city for the object and the two people of interest to him. The Orihalcon statuette could be in the hands of an ignorant loan shark who would be oblivious of the treasure concealed within. Vurumagen would lead the contingent and find what he was looking for, if they were here at all.
He would also strip-search every inch of the Capriones settled lands and then blast them into oblivion, which meant that he would have to part with another detail of his Red Guard for that purpose. But Vurumagen couldn't be in two places at once. No. He would send Randolph to the Capriones leading his Red Guard. It would be easy to explain the man's death at the hands of those miserable thieves, and he might possibly discover the item or the people he sought.
He must find that stone!
End Capriones, Chapter Fifteen.