Machinating, Part III
His righteous fury stayed with him as he entered the tower, and even lasted as he ran up the first few flights of stairs. But the central tower was much higher than the towers where the students slept, the Headmaster's office was at the very top, there were no elevators, and he couldn't cast Levitate.
So the righteous fury only carried him up most of the way, before Jason had to stop at one of the landings, bending over to gasp for breath.
And trying not to vomit.
The remainder of the stairs he took at a more sensible pace.
"I have to admit," Jason gasped to the secretary, once he'd finally gotten to the top of the central tower, "that all those stairs – are a pretty good way – to make sure – that the staff don't – come to complain – about anything unless it's – really important to them."
Then he stopped to catch his breath, breathing slow and deep in an attempt to stop panting.
"Or they could convince one of the professors to Levitate them up, for a matter of importance," she pointed out, looking bemused. "Why didn't you?"
"'Cause it's about who I brought along with me, the last time," he replied. "And I don't know if anyone's cleared to know about the situation, so I didn't have anyone to ask."
Then he took one last deep breath, and let it out in a near-sigh. "I suppose it was worth it to take the time to calm down. Now, how do I find His Royal Skinniness? We need to have a little talk about staying hidden."
That got a confused blink out of the secretary. "His Royal-?"
Then she snorted. "Don't worry, he can't have done anything yet to risk being discovered. He's been up here ever since Dame Tabitha deposited you both on the landing."
"Excellent," Jason hissed in his best Mr. Burns voice, before continuing normally. "So where is he? Kid needs a talkin' too."
She shook her head. "He's with the Headmaster, but you don't want to go in there right now. Not with what they're doing."
"Uh-" It was now his turn to blink. "This is actually pretty important. So if you could interrupt their high-stakes negotiations, let them know that something's come up-?"
The secretary shook her head again. "Not like that. Headmaster Osmond's in one of his moods."
The emphasis on the word made it clear enough that Osmond's moods were best avoided, and by extrapolation most of the staff probably already knew the context well enough that they wouldn't require any more elaboration. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that a fellow who'd only been around for the spring had picked up the necessary context. Even worse, perhaps, it made him feel curious.
"Okay, are we talking about something dangerous that I'd be interrupting? Or something sensitive, that I'm better off not knowing?"
"You're certainly better off not knowing," the woman muttered darkly in reply, shaking her head quickly and sending her green tresses bouncing. Then, in a more conversational tone: "But you already know that Prince Wales is here at the Academy, so perhaps it's best if you're kept aware of how he'll stay hidden. So-"
She broke off and gestured to a door. "The Headmaster's quarters are through there, and they're both presently in the day room. But you will regret it if you go through right now."
Eh, what're the odds it's as bad as some of the shock pics on the 'net? Jason smiled wryly. "I really do need to catch the prince before he leaves, so I guess I'll have to risk it."
"Very well." Humor glinted in her eyes. "But don't complain that you weren't warned."
"I won't." He turned to go face whatever horrors awaited, but turned back when he reached the indicated door. "Hey, Miss, uh, Longville?"
"It's 'Longueville'. And yes?"
"Were you able to send off that warning to your family? Have you heard back from them at all?"
The secretary's face became guarded. "I haven't heard back, no, but I hope to within a few days."
"Right. Um, is there any way we could try to get them out of Albion?"
Her face became very guarded. "I doubt it. But they already know the value of discretion, and they should be safe if they take sufficient care."
"Okay." Jason nodded. "Still, let me just point out that between Prince Wales, Louise, and Princess Henrietta I've been rubbing elbows with some quite highly ranked nobles. So if things change for the worse for your family? I don't know how much I can do, but at the very least I can try to appeal to them for aid."
The offer got a shocked look out of Miss Longueville. "I didn't know you cared that much," she said, her voice as guarded as her face had been.
He felt his cheeks pinking slightly, and quickly shrugged. "Hey, easier to focus on your job if you aren't worrying or mourning, right? And with what's going on in Albion, a violent revolution – not just a secession, but actual revolution – complete with the likely murder of the legitimate sovereign? Where everyone now in power has been practicing the arts of conspiracy and treachery? Ma'am, I wouldn't wish having to live under that on anyone. By what I know of history, if Wales doesn't show up and retake his crown it could take three generations or more before sanity is restored."
Her eyebrows shot up. "This happened to your people?"
"It's happened to a lot of our neighbors. You know things are bad when the people are relieved to have a warlord come in and rule as a tyrant, because at least the infighting stops." Jason grimaced. "Our own attempts at revolt were usually less about killing the ones in charge and more about breaking off to form a new nation. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't."
". . . I see."
He shrugged and waved his hand. "Eh, history. I'm sure plenty of experts could come in and give chapter and verse on why I'm missing this or that vitally important detail, especially with how simple I'm keeping it. Anyway, I've gotta go talk to the prince. But, seriously, if you need help, ask."
Miss Longueville nodded, once more looking bemused, but kept any further comments to herself.
The conversation over, Jason made it through the door without any further distraction . . . then stopped short in confusion (and a growing sense of horrified suspicion).
The Headmaster's day room was austerely appointed. Clearly of high quality, but mostly empty, albeit with scuff marks on the wooden floor that suggested that furniture was Levitated into place according to need.
And that meant that attention was quickly drawn on the other end of the room, where a short, olive-skinned boy stood in front of an ornate mirror, frowning at his reflection. Beside the boy stood a woman, pointing a wand at her companion. She was slightly taller, equally olive-skinned, and while she was clad in a Third Form student uniform, her curves were exaggerated to the point where they seemed about to burst out of her clothing.
Jason opened his mouth to ask, but then the both of them turned to regard him.
"Yes?" the woman asked, in a throaty voice that had the same accent that Signor Ampelio had displayed, back at the Charming Faerie Inn. (Something that sounded Italian, if Hollywood was to be trusted.)
He sighed. Might as well bite the bullet. "One of you is the Headmaster, right?"
The young man cringed, as the woman next to him grinned broadly.
"Yeah, no wonder Miss Longueville tried to warn me off." Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. 'The Headmaster's in a mood' indeed. "Must. Cleanse. Thinky-thing. With. Fire!"
The woman burst out laughing, her low and undeniably musical tones suddenly shifting down to the chuckle of an older man as Headmaster Osmond suddenly resumed his regular form. Fortunately, his uniform also shifted into robes more appropriate to an older man. "A sentiment shared by more than one of our professors, if more humorously articulated. As I said yesterday, the Mirror of Truth is easiest to use with a form most important to your heart, but with practice it can reflect many truths. You mustn't be too eager to reject some of them merely out of a sense of shock."
Sense of . . . well, at least we know he can't read minds, or else he'd know what kinds of kinks one can't help but run into as a geek. Which didn't make the implication any less cringe-worthy, when confronted in the real world as opposed to manga and fetishy fanfic. "Well said. Very pious. And the possibility of, oh, bathing with nubile young noblewomen – without being torn apart on the end of outraged wands! – has absolutely nothing to do with it."
The Headmaster smirked. "Bathe with students? When they are all too often ignorant, shy, or overly aware of the dignities of their station and families? Young familiar, if one seeks a diverting afternoon, I recommend joining the maids in their bathing."
"That . . . that makes–" A disturbing amount of sense, but we need to ignore 63 and 34! There's a prince to chew out.
Except, as long as said prince is here, he's not heading out on his booty call, and a lesson in Shapeshifting 101 would be seriously cool. Maybe even cooler than airships!
"Nevermind, that's not important right now. Prince Wales, I assume this is your new face? Something Romalian, going by the accent the Headmaster was affecting?" And how come no one's accused us of being part Romalian? If they've got olive skin, just like we've been tanning into now that we've been getting some sun all Spring-
"That's right." The prince's reply interrupted his train of thought, coming out deeper and raspier than Wales' normal voice. A little less precise, but not nearly as close to a Romalian accent as the Headmaster had managed.
Osmond nodded in confirmation. "Best for you to know, given who your master is. Meet Josephas Ryise. He's a young Romalian from the coasts, who grew up helping tend his family's terrace-farms, harvesting the exotic fruits that require the southern climate to thrive. Even though no mage has been sired in 3 generations, he and his relatives have clung to their status as an inexprimé house. And recently their pride was vindicated, as during a fierce storm he broke through and used instinctive Earth magic to reinforce a terrace and save the crop.
"And while young Josephas doesn't show nearly the potential displayed by, oh, Wales Tudor of Albion, before the lost prince's untimely demise, the Ryise family set aside a small fortune over the years as a sign of faith that their next mage would come eventually, and they want nothing but the best possible training, now that the hope of their family has arrived."
Jason nodded back. "Gonna be working on the accent, then?"
"Yes," 'Josephas' rasped.
Y'know, it's fairly impressive, how cool he's playing it. If we didn't know better we'd never think he was looking forward to some royal nookie, once he's done here. "And training as a First Form Dot of Earth?"
"I must feign to be First Form," the prince-in-exile confirmed. "The Lords of the Elements do not summon familiars. And with the affinity of a Lord of Air, I won't have to pretend to struggle with Earth. There'll be scant danger of standing out, and I won't be the only inexprimé scion in First Form with more money and family ambition than talent."
"But there are no Romalians entering First Form this fall, so it's unlikely that this alias will be quickly penetrated. That being said, we must take care to prevent ill consequences, and so this present form will not do, your Highness. It's too lean, I believe. Either increase your form's girth again or," here the Headmaster gave an evil smirk, "if you are determined to remain lithe, devise a maiden's form for yourself."
Wales flushed. "I-!" he started, but didn't seem to know how to continue.
Jason did his best not to smirk too broadly. And if it weren't for the fact that as long as he's here, he can't be out attending to his booty call, it'd be horribly irresponsible for us to keep exploring this tangent. Fortunately, they did have the prince fairly effectively pinned down, because the entertainment quotient had just risen enormously. "Your Highness, why do you have to go girl?"
Because it clearly wasn't for shits and giggles.
Unless they were Osmond's.
(Which was all too plausible, at the moment.)
Wales flushed even deeper. "I don't!" he snapped. "But apparently even the form of an ill-bred Romalian is too close to my true body."
He paused, then burst out: "How do you handle being so large?! If I make myself bigger, I start crashing into everything!"
Hey, we've been getting into shape! But that wasn't what his Highness meant, so Jason held back his retort and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess if you haven't grown up with it, it might take a lot of getting used to. Hell, takes getting used to if you are growing up with it. If you've gotta go stocky, you'll just have to remember to move slowly and carefully, and make sure there's a lot more room to move around in than you're used to needing."
The prince looked rather disgusted at the thought. But then, a bit suspiciously: "You move quickly enough, when you've a mind to."
One eyebrow rose. "Highness, I've been moving around in a large body since I was a child. I have gotten used to it, and believe me there was a time when you didn't want me around anything that could be broken."
"Oh."
"Face it, until you get used to the difference, if you decide to try to move quickly you'll have to accept that you risk leaving a trail of destruction in your wake."
"Like an avalanche." Prince Wales looked even more disgusted. "I'm going to hate being Earth."
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, if that's how you want to look at it." Then he tilted his head. "So, seriously, why can't you stay skinny in your disguise form? Or at least, why would you have to go around as a girl?"
The prince blushed anew, but declined to answer, and glared at the Headmaster instead.
Who grinned. Again. "It may seem ironic to title it the Mirror of Truth, but there's good reason. Using it to express some deep part of your heart, playing with the possibilities that might otherwise surface only in dreams, to flee upon awakening . . . this can be done for a night without consequence, save the possible embarrassment of being caught when the dweomer has fled." The grin grew downright lecherous. "Sometimes, even, by the one you wake up next to the following morning."
"The following-? Oh, you use this for a Ball, you said." Jason blinked. This was starting to feel like . . . well a lot like that time at DragonCon, when the NASA scientist had started holding court and explaining some of the details that were dozens of IQ points above what mass media could handle. For all that he's playing the dirty old man, this is one of his passions, isn't it?
Which was entirely understandable. Shapeshifting on demand! The details begged to be explored for as long as the archmage was willing to indulge a magic-less commoner. "Given teenagers, I've a hard time believing very many of them choose to switch genders. Not if they're planning on dancing with and trying to seduce their fellows." Retire early and play with themselves, acting on curiosity about how 'the other half lives'? Maaaaaaaybe a little more common.
Osmond shook his head, but at least the demented smile faded. "Sadly, no. Otherwise the Sleipnir Ball would be a far more entertaining spectacle, for few anticipate how quickly the differences between man and woman can manifest."
"The Ball is bad enough as it is," Prince Wales retorted. "If you take the form of a hero and can play the part you can attract the attentions of people who'd never give you the time of day otherwise."
"Hey, no need to . . . wait, did that happen to you?" He's a prince, so don't laugh. Wipe that smirk off our face!
His Highness scowled. "She was pretending to be the Heavy Wind! I had no idea she was . . . never mind. Headmaster, please continue on."
Headmaster Osmond raised an eyebrow. "I believe I recall an incident, the last time you were present for the Sleipnir Ball. So that was you, the man who stormed out all of a sudden?"
The prince-in-exile flinched. "You- She was correct on every particular! I thought she was genuine!"
"At my Sleipnir Ball, where all know that none are whom they seem?" Osmond chuckled. "And how do you mean, 'correct on every particular'? From the books, perhaps?"
There was a pause.
Finally, a stiff nod was given.
"Mm. Young prince, I can testify that what was recorded was not correct in every particular. Indeed, some particulars remain hidden to this day." The amused expression vanished. "Nor does she care for the speculation that was employed to cover those unknown details."
"Well, I didn't know that. I thought I was negotiating for the aid of a living legend against Reconquista, and she – whoever she was! – seemed to think I was trying to seduce her! And then came the mortifying realization that she wasn't truly who I thought. But at least no one seemed to guess that it'd been me, afterward." Prince Wales shook himself. "Not that it matters anymore. I need to build my disguise carefully because I'll be using it for more than one night. Apparently because I'm still young enough to grow a bit more."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "People keep growing until their mid-twenties, although most of that's beneath the surface. So, the Mirror of Truth can interfere with that, then?"
He looked off into the distance. "I'm trying to reconcile that with what I know of natural philosophy, and . . . can the Mirror change someone's weight? Make someone heavier or lighter, and then restore their true weight in the blink of an eye when the magic ends?"
"Obviously," Wales replied, rolling his eyes. "If it couldn't, I wouldn't be able to turn myself into a stocky Romalian youth."
"Eh, if you had to conserve weight you could make yourself shorter in order to be stouter, but if the Mirror can change your weight," or rather mass, but in a locally constant gravity field the two correlate so closely as to be indistinguishable, "then it's doing something that I didn't realize your magic could do."
"The conjuration of matter is never an easy spell, and what is conjured soon vanishes, but such spells are not the same effect as the dweomer of the Mirror of Truth," the Headmaster stated. "So you are correct, young familiar, in thinking that the Mirror is a mystery beyond what is known of magic. One that I have been unraveling, bit by bit, for longer than either of you have lived."
Aha! Confirmation on it being a personal passion!
"When using the Mirror of Truth, it may perhaps be likened unto hiding in an alcove behind a painting. As far as any others are concerned, the form granted by the Mirror, the 'painting', is what is present, but beyond that is your true body, waiting to be restored when the dweomer expires."
Jason nodded slowly. Come to think of it, what do we have in mythology for changing mass? When Medusa turned people to stone it pretty much killed them, the only cure that comes to mind is Aslan and he's supposed to be God the Son. Beyond that? Loki was a shapeshifter, wasn't that pretty common among the jotun and their progeny? Beings tough enough to throw down with the Norse deities, so potent enough to break the rules. Werewolves are cursed, of course, but . . . well, they're supposed to be big wolves, aren't they? A 200 pound guy turning into a 200 pound wolf would be pretty big.
Comic books have shapeshifters, and isn't there a fantasy sub-genre revolving around them? But most don't exactly concern themselves with conservation of mass.
On the other end, if we try looking at it through the lens of science fiction, this would be some form of hyper-physics, allowing the user to 'rotate' different forms in and out of reality. Somehow. Exotic and advanced enough to drive a Lovecraft protagonist insane.
"And the fact that Prince Wales is still growing?" he finally asked.
"As I said, I've never known there to be a consequence to using the Mirror for a single night," the Headmaster responded. "But I've devised means to extend the duration of adopted forms, and that can influence a body that is still growing. If it is close enough to the original, the sympathy between the disguise and the true form can influence the growth of the true form, to become more like the form chosen through the Mirror. To become closer to the expressed Truth of that person."
Osmond paused for a moment. "I have even allowed this to be done deliberately, under careful supervision," he then admitted. "Each time was an opportunity to refine spells to observe the process."
"And so you could tell, when I walked in, that a skinny Josephus would slowly warp the prince." Jason shrugged. "Well, your Highness, I guess the question is, just how badly do you want to remain lissome while in hiding?"
Wales grimaced. "I enjoy the company of women, but I don't want to be one. Even temporarily. And I've been thinking, while the Headmaster indulged your incessant curiosity. Even though it would be a disguise none would expect, there would be too many complications."
"If you're concerned about the monthly rhythms of a woman's life," the Headmaster responded, "then let me reassure you: The potions to ensure a gentle cycle would be as efficacious on a Mirror-chosen form as on any woman born."
The prince blanched. "I hadn't even considered that! No, my concern is that if I present myself as an inexprimé maiden, then when the students return this autumn I'll end up wasting half my time enduring their blandishments. Headmaster, you know I'll not have time to spare as it is."
Jason tilted his head quizzically. "Are low-talent maidens in such great demand? I'd have thought attention would focus on the best of their year."
"The most powerful receive public attention and courtship, yes," Osmond agreed, stroking his beard. "But Prince Wales has a point: A maiden who seems to have weak magic, no family protection, and no patron may be lied to without any great fear of the consequences, and are thus vulnerable if they give in to the temptation to begin an affair. As they might out of loneliness, or even jealousy for the more powerful and connected who are sought in public."
"Oh." And not a whole lot anyone can do about it, either. At that level of social scheming the users and bullies can take something like an anti-bullying code and turn it around on their victims. And an embarrassing medical exam might be able to show that a girl is sexually active, but proving a particular guy-
Wait a sec! "Headmaster, are you saying there's no spell that can prove that a given man's been lying with a girl? I mean, if he's planted his seed, can't that be detected?"
"If cast in time, yes," Osmond allowed. "If the man was not using magic to catch his seed."
"You can . . . oh, of course you can do that. Probably a simple Water spell." No animal intestine necessary. And if it's magic, explains why commoners might not have access.
"Hardly!" Prince Wales snapped. "A very difficult Water spell. And you never know if any measure taken was successful, until the girl's belly starts to swell or not." He shook his head. "Not that it matters, I wouldn't want to take up with a man to begin with, but their attention would still be a waste of time that I cannot spare."
"I could make it clear that you were under my protection," Osmond replied, smiling slightly in amusement. "But the choice is yours: A slender young woman, or a stout young man."
Wales grimaced. "I'll try being stout, then, and learn to move slowly and carefully."
The Headmaster looked slightly disappointed, but nodded. "Very well. And with that decided, have you satisfied your curiosity regarding the Mirror of Truth, young familiar? I recall that it sparked your interest when you first heard of it, so did you wish to try it yourself?"
Jason blinked. "I'd have to think about what I might want to spend a night as. But wouldn't it require a great deal of vis? If the dweomer grants a true change of form, and not just an elaborate illusion . . . I'd be shocked if it used a trivial level of magical power."
"It would be interesting to see if you could use the Mirror of Truth on your own, without requiring a mage to Empower it for you," Osmond replied. "But even if a mage's aid was required, it might prove worth the effort. Properly done, perhaps it would offer clues regarding any auxilia you might possess."
That seemed a bit of a non-sequitur. "Headmaster?"
The old man smiled slightly once more, but this time the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Given the rumors swirling around my Academy that you were hired rather than summoned, I cannot help but suppose that your master would be happier if you could demonstrate at least one auxilum. Nor would I object were the rumors conclusively disproved."
"Ah." Okay, seems like a good enough reason to spend time with the Mirror ourself, and getting to play with some Sufficiently Advanced Magic is going to be so cool!, but as soon as Wales is dismissed we know exactly where he's headed, so- "I believe I would be very interested in such an experiment, Headmaster, but that wasn't why I came up here in the first place."
Osmond raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't?"
"No." Jason shook his head, then turned slightly to face Prince Wales. "Your Highness, what the hell were you thinking?!"
Wales stiffened. "What was I-? What do you mean!?"
"Sending a letter to princess Henrietta when it's all but confirmed that someone in the Bruxelles Palace is spying on her? Even if she'd keep the secret herself, that doesn't mean it wouldn't get out on its own!"
"All but . . . what letter?!"
"The letter you sent her!"
Prince Wales snarled, and with a flick of his wand the air in the room raged, sending Jason crashing into the nearest wall.
"I didn't send her a letter you insolent cur!" he roared. "What forsaken madness are you on about-?!"
Then the air suddenly quieted, as the Headmaster laid a hand on the prince's arm. "Calmly, Your Highness."
Jason staggered as the force pinning him to the wall ceased, stumbling to his knees and feeling more than a little shaken at the sudden assault. Just like Jean-Jacques, if our little mistress hadn't been there as a buffer. You goddamn arrogant barbarian aristocrats, if we ever get a hold of functional anti-magic-!
But he didn't have anything like that. Not yet. So he was going to have to pander to a bunch of primitive savages until then.
But not on his knees, so he stood up, chin high . . . to see Osmond giving him a steady look, while the prince sneered, clearly prepared to deny any and all plans to jeopardize Tristian's upcoming marriage alliance with Germania.
"You should know," the Headmaster stated, "that His Highness agonized last night over whether to send just such a letter as you mentioned. In the end, he chose the course of prudence, but I cannot say he was happy with that decision."
"Obviously not." Jason rolled his eyes. Guess we have to admit to what we've developed with Louise, since his Royal Head-in-Arse isn't coming clean. "And that's why I'm here. I just got word from Louise that her Highness has received a letter from Prince Wales, announcing his survival."
"Just got word?" Osmond repeated. "No birds have come from Bruxelles to the Academy today."
He can . . . dammit, that would have been a good cover for our psychic texting, too! It was almost enough to sigh over. "I'm her familiar, sir."
"An intelligent familiar," the older man replied, eyes suddenly gleaming. (And next to him, Wales looked briefly incredulous, as if to wonder why he had to suffer through yet another digression.) "And yet you can still commune with your master?"
Jason blinked. "Oh. You've read Familiarity of Thought, then?"
"I've read most of the treatises in the Academy libraries at one time or another," came the dry response. "Intelligent familiars are rare, but enough have been summoned over the years for their peculiar disability to be noticed."
"Yeah, well, given Louise's trouble with magic, there was no way we were going to pass up on auxilia I was supposed to have, no matter how awry it was in the beginning." He shrugged. "It's a work in progress, but there has been progress."
Osmond's eyebrows rose. "Others have attempted to overcome that flaw, but abandoned the attempts when their familiars became distressed, and for no noticeable gain."
"It wasn't fun, no. We still weren't going to let that stop us. Anyway," with a quick but wary glance at a still-fuming Wales, "Louise was pretty clear about the letter, but I'll check again to make sure."
With that, Jason closed his eyes. [hey little mistress][,][just want to make sure].[the letter is definitely from wales][?]
[yes][!] came the reply. [he sealed it][,][so only Henrietta could read it][,][and he is already here][!]
Wait, that didn't sound right. [here with you][?]
[no][,][not yet][!][but we will meet him soon in a cherry thicket][,][where he once visited with her]
[thank you][,][just needed to be sure]
With that, he opened his eyes. "Yep, Princess Henreitta needed to use her ring to unseal it, and she knows you're here in Tristain. Sooooooooo . . . anything you'd like to confess, Your Highness?"
"No!" Wales snapped. Then, slowly: "The only other person who could have sealed the letter as a Lord of Air is my father."
"Uh-huh. And he'd also know the spots where you used to meet the princess for your illicit, naughty, double-plus ungood banned-for-life-if-you-were-ever-caught trysts?"
The prince's hand tightened around his wand, but then he glanced at the Headmaster, still at his side, and his hand relaxed. Slightly. "Father knew of one place to meet outside Bruxelles." Then, quickly: "And I never defiled her!"
"Oh, of course not." Should we really be antagonizing him? Hell with it, he needs someone willing to call him out on his bullshit, and we can hide behind Osmond if we need to. Jason smirked. "The two of you only went far enough to inspire steamy love letters."
And going by the increased heat in Wales' glare, it really was a good thing the Headmaster was there. "You-!"
"Sorry, Highness, but I'm an older brother and I do know about cluing in the younger brothers on how to go on with women. Such as how everyone can have fun and not risk anyone getting pregnant. Again, steamy love letter. If she didn't learn it from you, then who else?"
"That's hardly important," came the reply in very frosty tones, "if my father has been forced to entice his niece into Reconquista's trap."
Jason blinked at the sudden swerve to the conversation. "Going to that extreme to get out of taking responsibility, just because you don't want to admit to arranging to meet her at the old-"
A sudden impulse hit him. "-strawberry patch." Now go ahead and reveal that you already know damn well it's a cherry thicket.
But instead of scornful, Wales suddenly looked confused. "Strawberry patch? We never met by one of those. Father told me of a cherry thicket. We met there once before I realized that if he knew of it then seeking privacy there was futile."
Jason blinked again. Sure, the prince had revealed his knowledge of the thicket, but everything about his bearing suggested honest confusion.
"Young Prince Wales has not sent any letter that I know of," Headmaster Osmond said, slowly and consideringly. "And I would know if he had left my quarters any time since arriving."
"Indeed," Wales snarled. "And so-"
"But my secretary has left the tower, when she went to send her letter, to warn her family. And it would not have been impossible for her to carry a missive."
"Headmaster!" the prince protested. "You persuaded me last night, I did not-"
"But you wished to," the old man interrupted once more. "And so it would be best to settle all doubt." He paused for a moment, and then, in a voice gone sonorous and carrying: "Miss Longueville, please come here."
A few moments later, after the sound of approaching footsteps, the verdetress secretary entered the room. Upon seeing that Osmond was in his true form, she immediately relaxed. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"Did you happen to carry a note for Prince Wales, when you took your own to the aviary?"
She blinked. "No. Did he misplace one?"
Headmaster Osmond shook his head. "No. Thank you, Miss Longueville, you may return to your duties."
Jason stared after her as she left, feeling cold. If Wales didn't send a letter, which Louise insists was explicitly from him, then-
"It is a Reconquista trap. Oh, shit, shit, SHIT!"
It's a trap. And we've just wasted all this time geeking out over how cool the Mirror of Truth is. Jason, you idiot! What do we do?! Tell Louise that Wales is alive, but here at the Academy, and he didn't send the letter at all? That'd work, but then Henrietta will still know that her boyfriend is alive and within sneaking-out-at-night-to-boink distance, and-
"Headmaster, I shall need a steed, and in all haste!" the prince declared, interrupting his train of thought. "I recall that the Academy keeps gryphons."
"Indeed," came the reply. "I've always favored them over pegasi."
"Wind Dragons would be even better," Wales noted, "but I suppose they wouldn't be comfortable trying to nest over the telluric node here. Still, I can bolster a gryphon's speed, at least long enough to reach Bruxelles and its hinterlands."
Osmond nodded. "You'll risk taking some of your relics into battle, then? That means leaving no survivors to tell the tale."
"Keeping my survival secret from Reconquista already means killing them all!"
"Or it means you not being the one to go at all," Jason pointed out. Which would have the convenient effect of keeping you and Henrietta separated. "We could get someone else. I'm pretty sure Mr. Colbert would agree to go on a rescue mission, for example."
Prince Wales froze for a moment.
Then: "THAT IS NOT YOUR DECISION TO MAKE!" he shouted.
"Calmly, young prince." The Headmaster turned to face Jason. "But he is correct. You lack rank, young familiar. You may counsel, you may advise . . . but a prince is not to be gainsaid, save only by his monarch."
"And King James seems to be captured, and so effectively out of the picture. Right." Touchy there, too. Wonder if he's already seeing himself riding to the rescue of the fair damsels? Best way to stop that is to keep them from needing rescue to begin with.
[louise][,][are we sure this is not some]
[not now][!] she sent back, interrupting him. [we need to focus on slipping past jean jacques and his guards]
"Dammit!" he exclaimed out loud.
Wales broke off from murmuring something to Osmond. "What is it?"
"They've already started sneaking out of the palace. That'll take a bit of time, but your cherry thicket can't be that far outside Bruxelles."
"It's not, so I shall need to fly with all haste. Headmaster, how soon-?"
"I've already sent for your gryphon to be saddled. Expect it to land on my balcony shortly."
"Thank you," the prince replied with a regal nod. He then gestured with his wand, and his inherited Chest of State came Levitating through a door from deeper into the Headmaster's chambers. He wasted no time reaching into it as it settled at his feet, and drew forth a decorated rod, topped with a gleaming brass ball.
Then he turned to give Jason a narrow look. "To save myself from your unending questions: I must go because I know where this ambush will take place, and I am the only one who can prove to my dear cousin that she is walking into a trap, if I can reach her before she arrives there."
"That . . . okay, I can't dispute that. But by the same token," here Jason stopped and took a deep breath, "I think I need to go with you. If that gryphon can seat two, that is."
The look Wales gave him was even narrower. "Why?"
"You know where they're going in hopes of meeting you. But I can get updates from Louise."
The prince grunted, but didn't look particularly convinced.
"Besides that?" Jason took another deep breath, then went on. "One of my purposes, as her familiar, is to protect my master, right? Can't do that if I'm not there."
"When you were on that smuggler's ship, you defended your master with clever words." Prince Wales sneered. "Do you suppose that Reconquista will be similarly swayed?"
A quick tap to the harness that Mr. Colbert had supplied. "As you can see, I am going armed this time. Something I've been working on with one of the professors."
"Two pistols-" the prince began, before being interrupted.
"I cannot say that you seem particularly eager to go," Osmond observed.
"I was trained as a scholar," Jason replied tightly. "Not as a warrior. But Louise is in danger, and if I'd spoken up about the letter as soon as I came in here, His Highness would have had that much more time to intercept both her and Princess Henrietta before they made it to the cherry thicket. And, sir, if you've got a flat surface, I need to prepare as many rounds as I can before we head out."
The Headmaster nodded, looking thoughtful, and Levitated a small table into place.
"Do you feel called to her side, then?" he asked as Jason opened the ammo box and began prepping the ammo.
"Part of the job, isn't it? Run errands, scout out situations, and protect my little mistress." Good thing we already practiced making these, so we can talk while we're doing it and not screw up.
"I see. You merely perceive it to be your duty, then."
Jason blinked, then finished the round he was preparing and looked up. "When you said 'called to her side', you meant more than that? Is there an auxilum involved, here?"
"There can be, when the master is in peril," Osmond replied, nodding. "But if you've not manifested it-"
"She's not in danger right this second. Just heading into it. But, any chance you've got a spell that could trigger this auxilum?"
The Headmaster shook his head, while Prince Wales tapped his foot impatiently. "Attempting to force it to manifest would be unwise. You aren't the first to ask for help developing auxilia you want a familiar to have."
"The rest were all mages asking on behalf of their familiars, right?" Jason asked, head back down and once more prepping rounds as fast as he could without fumbling. "Whatever the risk, won't it be more likely to go off well if I'm actively cooperating? 'Cause I wasn't joking about not being a warrior, so any kind of protective power I can get seems worth taking a chance on."
"If it were a matter of fortune, I would concede that the gamble should be yours to take," Osmond agreed. "But such spells as I have discovered or devised have always broken the spirit of the familiar, whether they were successful or not in awakening an auxilum. You cannot help your master if your mind is extinguished."
"Oh. I suppose not." He took a third deep breath. "Superior firepower will have to do it, then."
"Superior?" Wales snorted. "With but two rogues' pistols? Treacherous knaves they may be, but those serving Reconquista as mage-knights are skilled enough with Shield to withstand their two attacks."
Jason bit his tongue, then looked up at the prince and drew one of the revolvers. "See the chamber?" he asked, giving it a quick spin to demonstrate. "Something I've been working on, and when your Eagle intercepted the Marie Galante I was damned annoyed with myself for not bringing them along, fully tested or not. Six shots per revolver before I have to reload, so even against mage-knights trained to standard I ought to be able to put them down." And the next round, as he finished preparing it, made the twelfth, so he started loading them into the revolvers. No promise we'll have time to load them before we hit the ambushers, after all.
Prince Wales' eyes widened slightly. "Six each . . . perhaps preparing more of your little paper bundles is not a waste of time. Continue." Then his eyes narrowed. "But . . . your communion with your master. Could you not simply tell her that I'm alive, but here at the Academy?"
"Yeah, sure." Looking down at what he was doing definitely wasn't avoiding challenging the unevolved primate through eye contact. No, not at all. "Just like it wouldn't have caused any problems to send a letter letting Her Highness know the same."
There was a sharp intake of breath. "My dear cousin's life is in danger-!"
"Which means I need to get Louise to convince Her Highness to call off the rendezvous, and return to the palace. Seriously, am I the only one here worried about what'll happen if you and your dear cousin are able to spend time together? Or did her betrothal to another man stop mattering some time between last night and now?"
"You-!"
But the Headmaster interrupted Wales. "No, you are not. An alliance with Germania remains the best protection for Tristain, and we are all aware of that. Do you think you can convince your master?"
Jason looked up again for a moment to meet their eyes. "It might take some doing, since she's used to following the princess's lead. Still, we wouldn't get along nearly as well as we do if she hadn't found me worth listening to." He shrugged and went back to prepping more rounds. "But we should still get over there and take out the kidnappers, I think. Bleed Reconquista's resources and deny them military data."
"Very well," the prince growled. "But if they approach the thicket before you convince your master, then tell her the truth. Better that then risk them as hostages to an enemy already proven without honor." He took a deep breath, then addressed Osmond. "Your gryphon will arrive soon, yes?"
"Indeed." The Headmaster removed his pipe from beneath his robes, and took a deep puff. "I dislike the thought of revealing my support, but if you are determined to slaughter the kidnappers-?"
"I can hardly do otherwise!"
"The kidnappers must almost certainly come from Albion, to coordinate this attempt so quickly after King James was overthrown. It seems likely they will be most practiced in the elementari of Air, and I believe I noticed the Fifth Kiss in your Chest of State."
Wales blinked, then nodded. "That I hadn't thought of. It's useless against guns, but they'll want to avoid drawing attention to themselves with the sound of gunfire, and if I end up engaging them closely-!"
He bent over, retrieved a thin, gray cloak, and swiftly donned it. Then he looked over to Jason. "With luck, if we're spotted they'll focus on trying to bring me down, but you'll need to be careful and trust in Brimir's favor. Air may not be as specifically destructive as Fire, but it remains quite deadly in the wands of capable mage-knights."
"A commoner can rarely be confident of Brimir's favor," Osmond noted in a rather dry voice, as his hands disappeared into his robes. "And while I am not willing to try to force the manifestation of any protective powers, if a familiar's master is directly threatened that can be an ideal time for such to reveal themselves. So, young familiar, you may very well draw attention to yourself, and it would be best to be prepared."
So saying, he pulled out a similar cloak, along with a sword and a dagger, and offered them to Jason.
Who boggled slightly. "How are you doing that? Those robes can't be hiding everything you might happen to need." Not if time-and-space magic are unknown around here!
"Because he keeps relics that the Church would demand from him, if they could," Wales stated. "And tries to duplicate their dweomers, even when they touch on matters best left to Brimir." He peered at the items as Jason took them. "That's the Sixth Kiss, isn't it? And Butterfly! Those belong to the Throne of Air!"
"Your Throne has managed without them for centuries," the Headmaster replied calmly. "After the Sixth lost his bid for the Throne of Air, he sought sanctuary here, and left these in the keeping of the Academy after his death. And as the War of Seven was long before the Tudors took the Throne, you cannot claim to have been robbed by us."
The prince scowled, but chose not to reply.
"The Zephyr's Kiss will afford you great protection from the elementari of Air," Osmond then told Jason. "Butterfly will return if you throw it. As for the sword, it is a failed experiment and has no name, but its dweomer reduces its weight. Easier to carry, but the balance is affected, and a trained warrior needs weapons he can trust."
"But I'm not a warrior, so maybe I can get some use out of it. Gotcha. Probably more useful for me than a knife I don't know how to throw."
"Even if you don't, you might prove to have a protective auxilum that works best with knives." The Headmaster smiled slightly. "Both weapons are freshly Empowered, and if you do manifest any auxilia I shall wish to hear of it."
Jason blinked. "Right. Each weapon's another chance for eucatastrophe. That's . . . got any ideas for other stuff I might be able to trigger?"
"It's not uncommon for familiars to race to the aid of their masters, even if the master cannot spare the attention to deliberately direct them. Even, seemingly, when the familiar ought not to know where the master is." Osmond paused. "I've never seen an intelligent familiar do so without some manner of call or signal, but you say you have been working to overcome the limitation that your intelligence places on your bond with your master . . .
"But the gryphon is ready and will arrive on my balcony momentarily. Finish your preparations, and may Brimir's favor indeed go with you both."
We're on a gryphon! Jason thought as they took off and soared through the clear sky, the wind quickly whistling past them at what was at least freeway speeds – Texan freeways speeds, at that – as Wales' spells to bolster their velocity took effect.
On a gryphon, and we're flying towards what we're fairly sure is a kidnapping attempt, and we're armed and getting ready to shoot people! How the hell did this escalate so quickly?! We're not trained for this, everything we were taught says how awful it is to take a life, can we really shoot someone, even if it's to save-
To save Louise and her best friend. To keep them out of the hands of Reconquista! The thought was icy lightning. We can fall apart after. First, though, every bastard who dares to lay a hand on them tonight gets to find out about superior rates of fire the hard way!
Of course, the irony here is that we headed to the central tower to stop Wales from flying off to meet Henrietta, and now we're flying off with him to swoop in to the rescue. Never been a better setup for scoring a hero's reward, and we're helping. Which means we need to shift the battleground again, like we did on the Marie Galante.
Still, Wales is the expert. Follow his lead.
"How are we going to do this?" he asked. Fortunately, part of the magic Wales was using was protecting them from the hurricane-force winds, so they could converse. "I am going to talk Louise out of it, but we're still hitting the kidnappers, right? So what's the plan of attack?"
There was silence for a moment.
"If this is a trap laid by Reconquista, as we believe, they'll not wish to risk having an airship spotted so close to Bruxelles," Wales replied, the strain from maintaining his magic evident in his voice. "That means they'll need to be riding a wind dragon. Or rather several, to bring enough mage-knights to be certain of overwhelming Henrietta after springing their trap. Fortunately, the thicket where we once met is some distance from any clearing large enough for dragons to land."
Of which you've got personal knowledge, right? But somehow it didn't seem like a good time to tease the prince.
"The kidnappers must therefore separate from their mounts to ambush Henrietta and Louise," his Highness went on. "And pistols, while a threat to men, are not of any great concern to dragons. Therefore, I shall employ Leiptr against the dragons while you cause what confusion your 'revolvers' may amongst the kidnappers themselves.
"Assuming Brimir smiles upon us both, once the dragons are dealt with the would-be kidnappers will be in dire straits. With no way to abscond with their prizes, if none of them see me we may even be able to force their surrender. If so, my cousin will know how to dispose of them afterward, I am sure."
"That she will," Jason agreed. And if she doesn't Agnes can take care of them. "Alright. Gonna try to get Louise to turn back, now."
[little mistress][,][i am still worried about this meeting that you two are headed to]
[why][?] came the reply. Simple and direct.
Maybe just admit everything to her, and let her figure out how to deflect Henrietta? But that would mean admitting the deception about seeing Wales dying and admitting that he hadn't dropped the cover story as soon as it seemed like the girls were in danger.
Besides, if Henrietta went out to meet Wales as soon as she thought he survived, then if she manages to drag it out of Louise she'll insist on waiting around.
Thankfully, that wasn't the only avenue of persuasion he could explore.
[if he somehow survived and they won the battle][,][would he not be very busy preparing to liberate those towns like he talked about][?]
[that is]
Now it was Louise's turn to pause.
[that is true][,][but he would still want to reassure her highness]
All too true, but- [in a secret meeting][?]
[do not presume][!][i will be there to chaperone][!]
[that is not what i meant].Although it's telling that we're both thinking of those two getting together in terms of booty calls. [please tell me that you at least have captain wardes coming along with you]
[what][?][!][of course not][!]
[why not][?]
[he would not let us meet prince wales if he knew][!]
[and that does not tell you something about the potential danger][?]
There was no reply.
[do you have any guard at all][?]
[no]
[so you two are going for a secret rendezvous][,][and we already know that reconquista does plots].[what if it is a trap][?]
[prince wales would have to be a prisoner].[or his father].[but they would have put in a warning code if that happened][!]
A . . . dammit, couldn't Wales have mentioned they had those earlier?
"Hey, your Highness?"
Prince Wales didn't spare a backwards glance. "What is it?"
"Got any code phrases you could have slipped into a letter to warn Princess Henrietta? And if you do, does your father know them?"
The prince stiffened. "I do, and he does. I take it he didn't include them."
"Doesn't sound like it, from what I'm getting from Louise. Reconquista probably dictated the letter or something. What about cryptospeech codes?"
"Cryptospeech-?" A note of uncertainty entered the royal's voice.
"For example, a group of innocuous phrases, where the number of them used in a letter means different things, such as 'I am fine', 'disregard this letter', or 'I am writing this under duress'."
"That . . . no, we never set up any such system." Wales paused. "But the notion is an intriguing one."
"Okay, thanks." Should we ask for one of the codes they were using? No, not yet, try to get them to turn back on our own first. But it will be a quick proof, if we have to supply it to prove he's with us and not under the cherry trees.
[unless the letter was dictated under torture].[sorry to sound so paranoid][,][but i would feel much better if you two had an escort]
[i can protect her highness if we come under attack][!]
Another pause from his little mistress.
[and the guards under jean jacques command would not let us leave the palace anyway]
Well, yes, kinda the point, and unfortunately there is a difference between a loyal childhood friend and a trained bodyguard.
But speaking of trained bodyguards . . . [what about agnes][?]
[no][,][she is not with us either]
[but she has experience keeping henrietta safe without trying to interfere with what the princess decides to do]
[yes but she is not here][!]
[so go get her and bring her along]
Louise paused yet again.
[no] she finally sent. [that would take too long]
Again, rather the point. If we can delay the two of you until we take care of the kidnappers- [she has training that you lack][,][and she is indisputably loyal to the princess].[go get her][!]
[are you saying i am not loyal][?][!]
Aw, shit! [no][,][of course i am not saying that].[but agnes knows how to spot danger and keep you two safe in ways we have not even thought of].[because that is what she is trained to do].
[if we go find agnes][,][she would have to protect henrietta from wales][,][too]
[and how is that a bad thing][?]
[it]
And again a pause from his little mistress.
[i will chaperone them][!]
[Louise]
[no][!][stop worrying][Jason][!][everything will be fine][!]
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.
But not quietly enough to go unheard. "What is it?!" Wales demanded urgently, their speed picking up a bit. "Are they under attack?"
"Not yet," Jason replied, "but I've used everything I can think of, except revealing our version of your survival."
"They cannot be far from the thicket and the ambush waiting for them!" the prince exclaimed. "Now is not the time to worry about keeping that a secret!"
"Hang on, I'm not-!" Come on, brain, come up with a way to stall! We're getting closer, we don't need to stop them, just hit the ambush before the girls become hostages-
Wait, didn't we set up a code, way back when, for if there was something going on that we couldn't talk about?
[Louise][i need you to listen to]
[Jason]stop trying to scare me][!][if something happens i will deal with it][!]
He sighed. "Shit. You're right, and she's not even letting me argue anymore. Time to come clean."
[Louise][i need you to listen to me now][!][im concerned because]
[not now][!] she interrupted. [we are almost there][!]
SHIT! [then you need to stop][!][that is]
[i see wales through the trees][,][and henrietta is running to him][!][i need to focus on being a good chaperone now]
[that is not wales][!]
[what do you mean][?][he is right there and]
She broke off.
[Louise][?]
[it is not wales] she agreed. [it is king james but he looks so pale][,][and henrietta is just standing there and swaying]
Something about the description filled him with a nameless sense of dread. [Louise][you need to back away and get your wand out][!]
[his eyes]
[what][?][get out of there][!]
[blue]
[blue what][?]
[so bright]
[Louise][?]
But she didn't respond.
"Dammit to hell!" he groaned.
"You waited too long, didn't you!?" Wales snarled. "I told you-"
"I know!" Jason snapped back. "But she didn't say they were almost there until the very end, and then . . . the kidnappers brought someone who looks like your father, and after that-" He shook his head. "I don't know."
"There's much you clearly don't know!" the prince retorted. "But we'll arrive soon ourselves. Ask your master where they're headed!"
"I can't get her to respond! They did something to the princess, it sounded maybe like a trance, and then Louise said something about a blue light, and then nothing!"
They sped up even more – their speed had to be well over a hundred miles an hour, now – and Prince Wales' voice turned cold as ice. "Pray, then, that we arrive before all trace of them vanishes."
The dread was now a spike in Jason's heart. We've failed her. We tried to be too damned clever about everything, and now we can't even help by getting recon from Louise. 'Cause they put her in a goddamn trance while we were-
'Maybe you can only do this if I'm asleep or in a trance or something.'
The memory of saying that, back when they'd first started practicing together, shot through him like lightning. He wasn't in a trance, but she seemed to be, and if the reason behind him practicing had been about setting up psychic codes, well . . .
[Louise][?] One more try, and if you don't answer-
She didn't answer.
So Jason took a deep breath, and pushed. No texting. No codes. Just as much pressure as he could manage, after exercising the mental 'muscle' involved for months.
He pushed hard.
And just as it seemed like he could push no harder, for no longer, everything went very hazy.
He blinked, and for a moment it felt like he was blinking two sets of eyes. But he was only seeing through one of them, and if everything was distorted – as if looking through a waterfall, or primitive glass – it wasn't his eyes he was looking through anymore.
He couldn't turn his – or rather her – head or even move her eyes much, but there was Henrietta in front of her, and they were being lead by some men he didn't recognize, but the person leading them all might have been King James, or at least a pale copy of the man.
Maybe. Not so easy to tell from behind.
But we did it! Now we need to-
jason?
That hadn't been his thought. And if it wasn't his, then . . .
Louise? Can you hear me?
king james came for us. he was so kind and he's going to take us away and we'll never have to worry about anything again and
Louise! Dammit, little mistress, wake up!
But she continued her train of thought without acknowledging him.
soon henrietta will be with wales and then i'll find my true love so strong and tall and gentle and he'll hold me and together we'll
Louise, WAKE UP! LITTLE MISTRESS, YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!
She stopped her mental babbling, but didn't reply.
No, don't go away. Talk to me, Louise, please, don't slip away, don't give up, you never give up, don't you dare-
["Jason?"]
That . . . holy shit that sounded like she's talking!
["Jason, what's going on? I'm – am I walking?"]
Uh, yes, I think so. Can you hear me?
["That's not what I'm thinking. And, a-and I can't stop walking! What's h-happening!?"]
You're in a trance. And I needed to know where you were, so we could come rescue you.
["Rescue me? I . . . Brimir, his eyes, they were like blue fire, and I couldn't look away!"]
Yeah, they got you right after they got Henrietta. But now that we've reestablished-
His sight went dark all of a sudden, as the world seemed to slam him sideways. He couldn't even gasp, the air had somehow been driven from his lungs-
"They're gone already!" Wales raged. "And they've laid trails leading everywhere!"
It took a bit of doing to get his face out of the ground, but then Jason was able to suck in a lungful of air, and look around the clearing they were in.
What, did he throw us off the gryphon or something? Goddamn nobles!
It wasn't important. Or at least not as important as the good news. "I've made contact with Louise again." ["Little mistress, can you still hear me?"]
["Yes, I . . . it sounds like you're talking now!"]
"You have?!"
Suddenly he was being placed upright, and then an agitated prince rushed towards him. "Where are they headed?!"
"Hang on, I'll ask." ["Do you know where you are? I'm at the cherry thicket, but there're too many trails to follow."]
["I, I can't see very well. And I can't even look around! Is this a nightmare?!"]
["It's all too real, I'm afraid."]
["No! I . . . Jason, help me!"]
["I'm trying to, but we have to find you."] Do we try now? If it doesn't work . . . but there won't be a better chance! ["Call me to your side."]
["What?"]
["Familiars can find their masters when there's peril."] Jason took a deep breath. ["Little mistress. My lady forever, by the grace of Brimir. You called me to your side, in the beginning, before ever we each knew the other. In this dark hour, in this your dire peril, call me to you once more. Louise, call me now!"]
["I-"] she thought at him, almost faint. ["I'm scared. Jason, by the grace of Brimir who gave you to me, y-you come here right now!"]
And then a flash of pain tore through his head, so intense that for an instant it seemed like he was dying.
But the pain soon started to fade, and something seemed to ease. Almost like a massive knot in the back, suddenly popped by an expert. And as the headache eased up to where he could think again, Jason could feet an urge to set off in one specific direction.
He smiled. ["You did it, little mistress. Keep it up, and I'll be there before you know it."]
["Hurry!"]
"Got it!" he announced, pointing. "They're that way. Is there a clearing in that direction?"
"Yes, there is!" Wales wasted no time, Levitating them both into the saddle and taking off immediately. "And not as far away as I would like!"
But for all the prince's urgency, it was clear that they weren't flying nearly as fast this time. Jason opened his mouth, ready to pitch his voice above the howl of the wind tearing past them-
Only there wasn't any such howl. They seemed to be flying as quietly as an owl.
Stealth mode. Because he wants the advantage of surprise, if he can get it. But can we afford to go at less than full speed?
You idiot, we're the one who can answer that. ["Louise, do you see or hear any dragons?"]
["Dragons?"]
["Wind dragons, we think. To carry you both off to Albion as hostages."]
["No, I don't see or hear them. Hostages? What's happening to us?!"]
["That letter that was supposed to be from Wales? I had good reason to think that it was a Reconquista trap."]
["Oh."]
And while they were talking - 'pathing? - the urge to go to her side had shifted to where it was now practically vertical.
"We just passed them," Jason reported in a low voice, glancing over the side at foliage too dense to see through. "So at least we should make it to the dragons before they do."
Wales looked back at him. "We caught up with them already? Then they're moving slower than I'd feared. But that will change when I engage the dragons, and if they arrive before I dispatch every wind dragon waiting for them, however many there may be . . . are you confident in your pistols?"
"Uh, I have tested them. They work well enough."
"Then, since we've a few moments more than I'd dared to hope . . . Jason, you may not be a warrior, but now is the time to call on any heathen gods of battle you might be known to!"
"Uh-" Hell, might as well say something to get ready to fight. Before action.
And the prince was right, going by the shifting angle of the pull from Louise she wasn't moving all that quickly. And if Wales thought they could spare a minute to psych themselves up for battle . . .
"'The earth is full of anger, the seas are dark with wrath
The Nations in their harness go up against our path:
Ere yet we loose the legions – ere yet we draw the blade,
Jehovah of the Thunders, Lord God of Battles, aid!
"'High lust and froward bearing, proud heart, rebellious brow –
Deaf ear and soul uncaring, we seek Thy mercy now!
The sinner that forswore Thee, the fool that passed Thee by,
Our times are known before Thee – Lord, grant us strength to die!'"
Skip the next verse, it's just the two of us and we've tried his patience enough today.
"'From panic, pride, and terror, revenge that knows no rein –
Light haste and lawless error, protect us yet again,
Cloak Thou our undeserving, make firm the shuddering breath,
In silence and unswerving to taste Thy lesser death.'"
Jason could feel his heart beating faster as he quoted Kipling. Even with the promise of protection from magic, it was going to be up to him to stand against the kidnappers until Wales could take out the dragons, and there was no way this wasn't going to be dangerous. But Louise's call, the urge to go to her, was a constant reminder of why he was about to put himself in harm's way.
"'Even now their vanguard gathers, even now we face the fray –
As Thou didst help our fathers, help Thou our host today.
Fulfilled of signs and wonders, in life, in death made clear
Jehovah of the Thunders, Lord God of Battles, hear!'"
"You have a war-god of storm and thunder?" Wales asked, sounding slightly intrigued. He swung his rod – Leiptr, that had been the name of it! – and the brass tip sputtered electric sparks, like a zeusaphone warming up for a song. "If all goes well, I think I might like to hear of him."
"Um-" Did he distract us so he could warm that up without us asking questions?
"Do you see that small break in the leaves below us?"
Jason looked. "Yes, I see it."
"Has your master passed it yet?"
He pointed at Louise, and sighted along his arm. "No, not yet. But they are coming this way."
"Good." The prince banked slightly.
And then, with a flick of his wand, pushed Jason off the griffon.
A/N:
Magic Items: Zephyr's Kiss – Relic, offers some protection from Air spells. Implied to be seven of them.
Butterfly – Relic, dagger that returns when thrown.
Nameless Sword – has a dweomer that makes it lighter. A failed experiment.