[INTERMISSION]
Number One, Part i
A/N : Originally the intermissions were only supposed to be single-chaptered, but seeing how this one banked in at 5K words, I thought it would be a little overwhelming to post it all in one go. Hopefully, this is the only intermission that will be this long. Part II will be posted in week from now.
Before we start, let's be clear that this intermission (and the next two) takes place during the King's rule, a bit over 200 years before the main events in An Old Song
Wave after wave of rebel force had surged against the King's salient that defended the capital, only to be sent back with their tail between their legs. Portal had warned the General that they were playing straight into the Guards hands, but to no avail. The troops, deluded by recent victories in their approach, attacked the King's ranks with both a viciousness and temerity that became the instrument of their most humiliating defeat chronicled hitherto in the war.
The General had refused to leave the battlefront and was killed in full sight of his men by the Shapeshifter himself. Before long, the formation that was already only loosely followed lost all semblance of organization, and everything went to shit.
The surviving men fled northwards and hid in the forest, praying the Royal Guards wouldn't find them while they mourned and recuperated. Portal, as the last remaining Lieutenant, stepped up to the mantle and took control of those left.
12 days they been in hiding when Palm had to tell him their last stronghold in the city of Vales had fallen.
Portal sat down heavily on his makeshift cot, leaning his elbows on his knees and raking his hands through his hair. "Clair, I have to be honest. We're not looking so good."
"You don't have to be an oracle to see that," she said wearily. For days she kept vigilant watch on their forces dispersed throughout the country, only to watch them fall one by one like insects in winter. The Royal Guards typically only attacked with brute force, favoring complete decimation over tactical reclamation, and the Rebels needed only to defend and push back when they needed to. But recently the Royal Guards had been fighting smarter, choosing to quietly ambush them, paying no attention to their baits.
She sat down next to him and looked up. The tent had a gaping hole in its apex and harsh sunlight beamed through and landed in the space between them. The grass underfoot was dry and prickly, poking through her thin, worn shoes, scratching her tired feet. Outside you could hear someone handing out the daily rations.
"We need food," she continued as calmly as possible. "We need medicine, we need healers." She paused to look at him. "Most importantly, we need soldiers."
Portal sighed heavily and stood up. He towered over her and returned her gaze with severity. "Clair, I know you want to join the battle forces. But for the last time, the answer is no."
"You can't deny – "
He interrupted her. "And you're wrong. We need food and medicine the most. The lives of our remaining soldiers are our priority. It's your job to make sure we don't lose any more."
She opened her mouth to retort, but shut it quickly. She looked down, trying to hide her face.
"I'd be more useful out there than in here," she managed to whisper through gritted teeth.
"Wrong again," Portal said, inspecting a map that hung from the ceiling on pine cords, hands crossed behind his back. He didn't have to do that. The two had spent nights and days pouring themselves over it, imprinting the aerial landscape in their memory, tacking white pins over where the Rebellion gained foothold, black pins where their army fell, and grey pins to where they planned to advance. Without even looking, Palm knew there were more black pins than white.
"What are we going to do about Vales?" she asked.
"There is nothing we can do. With our numbers we cannot possibly hope to recapture the city." He still did not look at her. "What is Smoker doing?"
She sighed, and covered her right eye with her hand. Neither spoke while she gazed, a brief disconnect from her body.
"Eating smoked salmon," she said eventually.
"Clair."
"His squad is healthy and as you suggested they have stalled themselves. They are camped by the Confluence, and do not seem to be making any immediate movements."
He nodded and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She stood up and paced a little too quickly towards the tent's opening. She pushed the flap open and struck someone in the face.
"Y'ow!"
"I'm sorry," she gasped, recognizing the runner.
The boy stepped back, rubbing his face. "It's alright, missus. I need to speak to the Lieu – the General."
"What is it?" Portal said coming out behind her. From behind his glasses he peered down at them both.
"There's a situation. Well, more of a ruckus. Some lads ambushed a carriage."
"That's it? Please only bother me for important things, boy."
"Actually, sir," said Palm, one eye covered. "I do think you need to see this."
Palm and Portal followed Runner to the edge of the forest where the road cut through the trees and its canopy opened up to a blue sky. A man walked past them, carrying a small lady over his shoulders. He gave Portal a grin and a thumbs up.
"A truck full of whores," someone was guffawing. "Lookee here, boys! We've hit the loot today!"
They reached the source of all the noise. A carriage had overturned onto the road and several scantily clad woman huddled around it. Some of the older ones were teasing and baiting the rebel men, who played along like little children on a playground. Their apparent ringleader caught Portal's eye and gave him a knowing grin, more of a smirk. She was a beauty, Palm had to admit. Rose colored hair fell past her shoulders and cascaded down her back in large voluminous curls. She sauntered up to them, hips swaying and slit skirt flaring, deliberately revealing far too much thigh. Palm felt herself take a step closer to Portal. As she neared them, she bowed and her cleavage was only barely not spilling out of her thin top.
"My Lord," she said with practiced servitude, and her voice reminded Palm of a viper. "Zazan, mother of these forsaken daughters, at your service."
"Portal, General of the Rebellion. At yours," and he held out a hand. She looked at it, her snide features momentarily betraying a look of mild surprise and confusion. Then it passed and she smiled and shook it.
Her gaze flicked over to Palm. "And who is this beautiful young lady?"
Palm winced under the scrutiny and brought her gaze down. She most certainly didn't deserve the comment, not with her knobbied knees peeking out from under her worn-down tunic, and a mess of dull hair that resembled tangle-weed at best.
"She's my protégé, Clairvoyant," replied Portal, diverting Zazan's attention back to him.
Zazan smiled anew. "Of course. As you can see, our carriage won't be running for a while. Could you offer us your hospitality, and perhaps someone who could fix this?"
"That is perfectly do-able. In return our men will be having some of your services too, I expect?'
"They would love nothing more."
The two spoke mechanically, following some sort of predefined script. Seeing as she had no purpose there, Palm wandered away, seeking more familiar company.
That evening, Portal pulled the men away from their merry-making to call up a meeting. Portal positioned himself by one of many small fires and faced the rebels, who fixed their attention onto him the moment he cleared his throat.
"Men, ladies. A fortuitous opportunity has seen fit to call on us," he said in an uncharacteristic loud voice that reached the edges of crowd, aided by a spell. "I'm sure you're all aware of the company we've agreed to shelter for the night." He paused as the men snickered. "They just so happen to be heading straight to the capital. Better yet, straight to the King's palace."
"And just what are you proposing?" someone asked, in spite of the transparency.
"That one of our women go with them to the palace, infiltrate it, look for plans, and send it back. Obviously this will be dangerous and there's no guarantee of success, so only volunteers please."
For a while no one spoke, until Palm offered nervously from beside him, "I could do it." Her voice caught on the edges of the spell and people turned to her with varying amounts of interest.
"Out of the question. You are too young for this," Portal said, still eyeing the crowd waiting for someone else to speak.
"Give the lass a chance, General. She's already fifteen. God knows how many boys her age have laid their lives for this cause," someone said gruffly in her defense.
"It's the most ideal for me to do it," she added, and she found confidence in her rationale. "I blend in with the other girls, and once we get to the palace I wouldn't need any maps or blueprints to navigate it. I'd be able to avoid the guards, and I'd be able to do it all without needing any leads of any sort."
She looked at Portal, maintaining eye contact. He held it with an equally intense stare, but she couldn't read him.
"Clair's got a good point, she's got several good points. And she's clearly willing. General Portal, I think she could do it," said the new Lieutenant.
"Absolutely not. Clairvoyant is too inexperienced and this is a delicate task. It will not be discussed further." There was a finality to his voice that left no space for further arguments.
"But –"
"No buts, Clair. You can't do this."
"Only because you don't let me!"
Palm has only a second's warning of the feeling of hot, white anger swelling up her chest and behind her eyes before the campfires exploded in a sudden burst of heat and flame. As quick as it happened, they died down to a heap of burning cinder, leaving nothing but wisps of rising smoke between Palm and her mentor. Even through its cover Palm could see the anger reflecting in Portal's eyes.
The eyes of the crowd were all focused on the tension that stretched itself taut between them. Portal stood up and dusted the ash off his sleeves, not taking his glare off her. Palm didn't cower, not like she would've once done.
"I've been treated like a child for too long," she said through her teeth, and it took all she had to not shout it.
"That's because you are a child!" The last words are impounded with a compulsion and Palm couldn't speak back. She didn't let her features betray her surprise. She set a stiff upper lip, squared her shoulders and spun around on her heel and into the forest, forcing her tears back.
Palm stomped through the trees, away from the lights of the camp until she found herself outside its wards. Twigs cracked underfoot and her breath came in short, quick huffs that she could not control. She stopped when she heard the sound of running water, soft and alluring, and she found she could finally stop her fists from shaking. She moved towards its source, where the river cut through the forest, and with no trees in the way she could see the sky unobstructed. A breeze whistled through the treetops, a frog croaked, crickets chirped, and the night spread itself before her, serene and harmonious, completely unaffected by the war.
Zazan was sitting by the river, hair in a bun and dress bundled about her thighs, allowing her bare feet to graze the water's edge. Her neck turned only slightly at Palm's intrusion. "Something bothering you, little witch?" she asked, returning her gaze to river's course.
"Wizard," corrected Palm. "Why are you here?" she asked brusquely.
"Yes yes, I keep forgetting there's a difference," Zazan said. "Come sit with me, girl. It's peaceful here."
Palm hesitated, but made herself comfortable on the sodden grass next to Zazan, keeping her legs tucked under her. "How long will you be staying?" she asked, and her voice still sounded stiff.
Zazan shrugged. "That all depends on your chief. He's neglected to have anyone fix our carriage yet. We can't leave until that's been done."
"There aren't any wizards in your group who could do it?"
"My girl, if any of those girls were wizards they wouldn't be whores now, would they? Now just what is your chief planning, huh?"
"I can't tell you that," said Palm.
"I couldn't possibly be any threat to your cause," Zazan countered with a smile. She still hadn't looked Palm in the face.
"Even if you're just entertainers you could still slip information to the one of the King's supporters," Palm pointed out. "We don't know whose side you're on."
This time Zazan just laughed; a sharp, sultry laugh that made Palm internally wince. Still chuckling softly she finally turned to look Palm full on with disarmingly shrewd eyes. "Entertainers? Sweetie, we're hired love. Love doesn't take sides. We don't serve kings or rebels. We serve men. And all men are the same no matter what kind of political rock you drop on them."
"Then why are you going to the King's palace? Why not just serve men in a random brothel?"
"Where do you think we've been until now? You ask too many questions, girl." She paused to study Palm. "Let's do something about that hair of yours. When was the last time you washed it?" She motioned for Palm to sit closer to her. She pulled her legs out of the water so that Palm could sit with her back facing her. Zazan gathered Palm's hair and raked through it with her fingers. She tutted softly when they got caught in a knot.
She leant forward and stretched an arm past Palm's folded knees and traced a sigil into the dirt.
"Make that spell for me," she ordered.
"What is it?"
"A spell we keep on-hand for the girls. It keeps them pretty even during difficult times. This one's to keep your hair soft and shiny. I'm surprised you don't know it," she said while Palm copied the sigil onto her palm.
"Portal wouldn't teach me this kind of vanity. And I've never had many other wizardess in my life," admitted Palm. The spell glowed faintly and she transferred it from her hand to Zazan's. Zazan took it delicately, taking care to not fold her palm so the spell wouldn't lose shape.
"That's a shame," Zazan said, gliding her palm over Palm's hair.
"What will you do once you get to the King's palace?" asked Palm, a plan slowly blooming in her mind.
"Serve and love, my dear. How does that feel now?"
Palm reached a hand to the back of her head so her fingers could pat down over her hair. It was like touching something else entirely, like smooth silk or rose petals. It didn't feel like her hair, and it was like being rid of a burden.
"Zazan, do you think you could get all the girls to the coach tomorrow night, around this time?"
"I most certainly could," Zazan said, smiling that deceptive smile that told she could already guess what Palm was planning.
For once, the night wasn't hot and humid. Palm wrapped a thick cloak tightly around her shoulders while she made her way to the stall where the girls had gathered around. They had untied their horses and a couple of girls were tending to them, stroking their manes and petting them to keep the horses quiet.
All together Palm could make out around thirty of them, most with only a thin shawl for protection against the chill. They parted to make way for her, letting her get to the coach. The wheel had been manually fitted back on to allow the vehicle to stand on its own. It was a clumsy job but still, it made things all the easier for her.
She trod around it, assessing the damage, laying a hand sheened with a spell over the cracks and holes, leaving an imprint of the spell, connecting them with a thread of magic that laced around the carriage. She stepped back let the magic flow.
The wood creaked and uprighted itself, sliding back into place to recreate the smooth paneling it previously had. The wheels shook and set themselves firmly against the spokes like invisible hands were pushing them into place. The paintwork began to move, like ink diffusing in water, and covered the patchwork. At the end of it, it was like a new carriage altogether.
A thin haze of residue magic lingered in the air. Palm waved her hand and a gentle breeze carried it away. A few jaws may have dropped during the process.
"Was that a time spell?" someone asked, awestruck.
"You… you're really quite a wizard, aren't you?" said Zazan, sounding genuinely impressed.
Palm felt herself blush. "I – I've been practicing," she answered modestly.
Zazan left no time for the girls to stand around in their awe and ushered them into the carriage. They squashed themselves into the small space and huddled for warmth. One of the girls went out front and hitched the horses to the wagon, then climbed up to the driver's seat.
Palm cast a silencing spell around the carriage, then looked at the girls and laid another spell to keep the air warm around them. The girl up front whipped the reins and the carriage began its journey to the King's palace under the cover of the darkness of the night.