026 - Explanations, Realizations, And Adjustments

Roxanne entered the doors that had been previously pointed out; these opened to a bedroom with a high ceiling and clerestory windows letting in light. The columns and squares continued here. This room was two squares wide extending to her right, and one deep from where she stood. A chandelier hung over the square she stood in. A large fireplace was in the wall opposite the entrance, and just to the right of the center column. A four-post canopy bed sat to her right against the wall. Assorted tables lined the walls, as did a few wall hangings. A set of curtains covered doors opposite the entrance, leading to a dressing room with an attached washing room, each a single square in size. These rooms had a lower ceiling and stained glass windows of no particular design or pattern from nearly the floor to the ceiling. A dressing screen, blocked off the currently empty closet on the left. A dressing table sat to the right with a stool next to it. The inside of the dressing screen had full length mirrors for looking at gowns. Rox looked at herself and did a double take.

She had not changed size at all. Rather there was now a subtle shade of light blue to Rox’s previously pale skin, brighter than when under stadium lights. All her hair was shock white, even her eyebrows. She looked over herself, and at the mirror several times turning this way and that. She also saw that her amber eyes were slightly more almond shaped with a bit of point to the outsides. The front edges of her ears were pointed slightly forward, like a Vulcan, instead of the round she had seen all her life. She also noticed that all the colors seamed to be more saturated, and the room brighter than she expected. Then she saw the slight shimmer around her body.

Somewhat shocked, Rox proceeded into the bath chamber, and puzzled out how to fill the tub. It was the size of an eight-occupant hot tub, a bit larger than the bed in the adjoining room. Try as she might, she could not figure out how to get hot water. But she was grateful for any water at all to wash off the residue. She found some towels and soap, and sat in the tub and washed, taking more time now, than she had earlier this morning. The rain drizzled to a stop on the motley windows as she washed. The Sorceress came in halfway through and sat on the edge of the tub.

Instinctively Rox moved to protect her modesty as they began to converse. The Sorceress explained how to get hot water; by starting a fire in her fireplace before bathing, to heat the water in the tank above the apartment. The Sorceress also explained what to do about the laundry, the privy, and several other domestic chores and activities. Then they got to the subject of magic, and Rox’s change in coloring.

“Well, to put it simply, one of your progenitors was an elf, most likely from this planet. The elf blood has passed true down to you. From what you say, it was at least your grandmother, if not farther back. This is your true form and looks, hidden by magic since just after you were born. Also you can expect your hair to grow a bit different in pattern. Most elves of the stock you show have a large stripe from their forehead, around and part way down their backs, with the sides growing down, usually braided.”

“Nice. Just what I need. A mohawk.” Rox felt her hair, and thought. “What do you mean ‘of the stock I show’?”

The Sorceress folded her arms as she sat. “Well, you are taller than most everybody around here, and thinner. Your skin color has a slight blue-tint. Also you have a lighter build. Before I removed your disguise spell, your hair and features were of human cast. The mix of those just set you apart as a half-elf. Then with the spell gone your full features are exposed. From my own experience, there is only one group of elves that have the mix of features you show.”

“Where do they live?” Now Roxanne was curious.

“A ways away, to the south east. It is expected that your mate is coming to get you. We can worry about this then.”

Roxanne nodded. “You mentioned a spell for language. I think I am speaking my native one, and am hearing you in the same. Is that so?”

The Sorceress waved her hand, back and forth. “No. I am not speaking your native language. I do not even know what it is. There are two methods of dealing with language in magic. One is transferring knowledge; the other, which I have used on you, may be called a translation convention. The transfer is more permanent, and ultimately more useful, and we can do that later. Translation is an active spell that bypasses the noises and provides an almost mind-to-mind connection to transmit meaning. However that spell consumes the energy of the person it is cast upon and is best for short term only.”

Rox understood this, and then thought of another question. “What does ‘schwaer’ mean?”

“Where did you hear that?” She responded with a bit of weariness toward the subject.

“One of the other slaves that I was with used it, in apparent application toward me.” Rox was curious, wondering if she had encountered the local racism.

“That is a derogatory word used by ignorant people, toward mixed-breeds.” She spoke as if she had this argument on a regular, tiring basis.

Rox had grown up in a place where she had been color-blind socially, but had encountered those who weren’t, and felt that she could grasp the rest of the problem. She let it go and moved to her last concern.

“How about clothing? I can’t just run around in a towel, and won’t go around naked, even as a slave.”

“We can take care of that.” She brightened to be off the previous subject.

The Sorceress showed Rox what she had selected for her to wear as her apprentice. Roxanne wasn’t flattered by it.

First, she was given a loincloth. Next was a skirt consisting of several strips of cloth that hung from the belt. Then a “Y” cut drape of light blue material. The neck opened all the way to her belt, front and back. The sides were open all the way up with no sleeves. The blue cloth was translucent, with gold and silver thread piping the edges. All of it too short fot Rox’s height.

Then she was given a set of gold chains and bands showing that she was a slave. These started at a choker with four chains going down, one on each arm, and one to each leg. Her armbands were just above her elbow, and her wrist, with loops that the chain attached to. The other two went through a jeweled belt and to leg bands similar to her armbands, just above her knee and ankle. These, she was later told as the chains were lengthened to proper fit, were ensorcelled to prevent her from speaking or moving inappropriately while in court. As she looked them over, and grudgingly put the costume on, she remembered seeing others in this same costume in the halls as she had been brought to The Sorceress’s suite.

Later that evening, at the same time that the language spell was being cast, Rox’s hair was also ensorcelled with a quick-growth spell, to fill out her mane properly.

*          *          *

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 6

Four moons - must play havoc on the tides.

As they ate breakfast, Steven brought up the three moons and the sky. How they really are on a different world.

Caspian corrected Steven. “Actually there are four moons. But one stays in opposing alignment to the smallest of the other three. You will probably see it later today.”

Caspian then started scratching in the dirt. He drew the spiral of a galaxy seen from above. Then at a certain point on one arm he tapped his staff.

“That is where your world is.”

Caspian moved to a point about 60 degrees counter clockwise.

“We are on a world about here.”

Steven stood looking down at the crude scratching, absently crushing some scrub. He put it on the fire, and sat down.

“There really is life on other worlds.”

Caspian just watched the fire. He stood and leaned on his staff, moving into what Steven already recognized as his ‘teaching mode.’ “Yeah. The Great Atoner is not just the God or creator of one world.”

Neither Steven nor Roxanne had ever been religiously active. He recognized the language, but had not often put it together in that way. He cast quizzical glances at Caspian.

“Yeah, sure.”

Caspian shrugged Steven’s response off, and continued.

“Tywacomb is a world that compares technologically to the time between the late medieval period and the late renaissance of your native world. This planet is a bit larger than yours, and spins at a different rate. The days are about twenty five of your hours, rather than twenty four. I understand that this planet’s orbit averages between one half and two planetary diameters closer to its system primary. Our months are in groups of twelve, with none longer than twenty eight days. The year is shorter than yours. Those are all round figures; I could not tell you the official accurate ones. Right now in this hemisphere we are in spring, just after the equinox.

“By your measure, gravity is about eleven meters per second squared of acceleration. The air pressure is also a bit higher, with a higher oxygen count. It is warmer across the board, more tropical over all, and there is lots of vegetation. In this area it tends to drizzle often, as I understand.

“One of the first things you need to get is a native weapon. To do that, we need to get to a more densely populated area. Currently we are within the claimed boarders of a good king, though his claim is neither disputed nor enforced due to the remoteness of the area. Mostly this is pasture for some local herds. There are few worries about bandits. These high mountains are just too far away from anywhere to be useful to any besides wizards, or herds. Once we get to those mountains to the west, I can find the right materials to make the trackers for your family. Then we can go about finding your wife.”

“She does have a name, Caspian.” Steven responded.

“Yes. Her name is Roxanne.” Caspian finished.

Shortly after midday, they crossed onto a local road, and Caspian turned to follow it south east across the valley. After some miles Steven was ready for a change of pace. He did notice that Caspian seamed to be pushing himself, though whether this was to compete, or out of urgency of the task, Steven could only guess. About this point, a village came into view on the top of the next hill. As they walked in, Steven took a moment to look the natives over, with consideration to fitting himself in. Old skills and training were resurfacing.

Steven realized as he watched, that the clothes he was wearing were not suitable for nondescript travel. Mostly, they were too well made. As well his clothes, specifically his coat and backpack were visibly unique. His booney hat seemed to be the least noticeable, partly as he had already begun to stick some of the local foliage into it, partly to shade against the brighter than expected colors and light.

The next thing Steven noticed was that he was much bigger than the locals, at six foot six inches, with broad shoulders and chest, and with no real belly to speak of. Many of the men were as thickly built, but the tallest came up just barely above his shoulders in height. On mentioning this to Caspian, he gots told that if he was taller, or thinner, he might be regularly mistaken for an elf. As it was, he was too large for that. For his part Caspian was on the tall end of the locals, being just up to Steven’s chin.

To Caspian’s pleasure they found a small market. But none of the clothes had any chance to fit Steven. As they went they sorted the things Steven had, deciding what to keep and what not to keep. His pack and the small gear they kept. The smith was interested in his entrenching tool but Steven refused to sell it. They also kept most of the jewelry and other valuables. About half of the fabric things they sell or trade as they can, these being the few bits he had brought thinking to use for his family. As they looked as the few textiles, Steven ended up purchasing only a poncho, made from a blanket which they slit in the middle. They might have gotten him some new clothes that wouldn’t fit well, but decided not to. They also sold some bits of the camp gear that had proven to be useless.

A few of the local children found Steven to be an oddity, and watched as he and Caspian walked out of town.

027 - Etiquette, Objectives, Back In The Tracking Business

At The Sorceress’s instruction, Roxanne had stayed in her chambers, getting fresh bedding and other things accomplished for her to take residence. In doing this she had gotten to know some of the pages and how things worked here in the Palace complex. A second assignment she had been given was to get a costume cut to her frame and figure. So a tailor had been sent for. Roxanne ended up with three costumes of less than translucent fabric, but of the same cut, sized for her slim, tall frame. In the mean time, The Sorceress had gone to attend to her own duties.

When The Sorceress returned for the evening, she brought with her an entourage of stewards. She opened the door to Rox’s suite, and called out.

“Student, come with me. Your first lesson begins now.”

Roxanne turned from the bedding, and walked swiftly to the door. She fell into step behind and to the left of The Sorceress, and followed to the second set of doors on the right of the main hallway. Here the stewards set out a formal diner on the table. Roxanne watched as one seated The Sorceress in a chair on the side, and was then bidden herself to the seat immediately to her left.

The Sorceress spoke. “Student attend; your course of study for this evening and until these stewards are satisfied is local etiquette at a formal table. Watch and learn.”

Rox kept her hands in her lap, then noticed that The Sorceress kept hers flat on the table, and quickly Rox did likewise. A small porcelain plate of vegetables was placed before each of them. Rox first watched as The Sorceress daintily ate these finger-food nibbles. Roxanne ate two vegetables before speaking.

“This is my first real meal since being kidnapped, and I have not had lunch. I may eat a bit faster than is polite.” Rox munched into a crunchy vegetable slice with some relish.

“You will address me as ‘My Lady,’ as you have been previously instructed.” The Sorceress sniffed then softened slightly, maintaining the decorum of the table.

As the meal progressed, the mood lightened, The Sorceress let down her stuffy guard and showed that she was a kind, fun loving, and thoughtfully concerned woman. The stewards here all knew her and were comfortable enough that some private matters were mentioned and discussed. However Rox was allowed to steer the conversation, mostly to get her up to speed on happenings. As one course was replaced, Rox got to one nagging question.

“My Lady, what is your job here? You sit at The King’s left hand, you order guards about, and have a wing of the building all to yourself. Yet you do not wear the robes that the ministers wore. You do appear favored with some jewelry, yet no signet rings; and you practice magic with confidence and ease.” Rox finished her summary with a sip of the drink of the moment.

The Sorceress smiled as she considered how to answer. “I am…The King’s Head Mistress, and the Chief of his Harem; and I am his most trusted non-political advisor. I also happen to be a practicing sorceress, ranked among The School of the Orders.”

They ate for a moment, with the Steward correcting Rox on which knife to use. Then The Sorceress continued.

“I supervise The King’s schedule of sleeping companions when The Queen is out of the Palace. You needn’t be concerned. He won’t touch you knowing you are another man’s. That is a small part of why you are here, and not one floor down in the ladies quarters. However while you are here, you are in my charge, and that means I get to conduct your schedule. I also advise when The Queen is not available, and when I am asked to.”

Roxanne paused with a roll. “My Lady, what will my schedule be?”

“You will study with me for a brief time during and after the morning meal. You will clean this wing, and in doing learn its layout. You will do whatever other chores I appoint. You will study with me in the afternoon when I am not in court. Evenings will vary depending on what official functions are happening. In this studying, I will be teaching you all I can, and assessing what you already know and whom else you might profitably learn from.”

Rox had one more thing to ask. “The King said something about buying my freedom. My, Lady, what did he mean by that?”

The Sorceress smiled. “I was hoping you would ask about that. While you are here, you are not quite a slave in formal bonds, but neither are you free to go yet. You will be given a stipend for you to do with as you will. Since your necessities will be taken care of as a matter of course, you can simply have it saved. When it is enough, you may then use that money to buy your freedom, leave here and go wherever you will.”

Rox took this in. “How much it that? How fast will it accumulate?”

The Sorceress let Rox’s slip pass. “The usual value of a slave is between seven hundred and fifty to one thousand local coins. You will accumulate twenty a week. If and when your husband shows up, it is all yours to do with as you will. When you have enough, if you choose, you are then free to buy yourself free, and go where you will.”

The meal lasted longer than Rox was used to, but took this in stride, learning as much as she could. As they proceed through the meal, the two women conversed on other various topics besides etiquette, and scheduling. The main topic was Rox’s history, and where she came from. The Sorceress filled in some general answers to her elf heritage. Finally The Sorceress called the lesson to an end, and dismissed all but three stewards who leave with the formal table equipment and food. Lastly The Sorceress dismisses Rox to return to her room, and rest for the evening.

“By the way,” Rox asked, as the Sorceress left, “How did you know I have a daughter?”

“Half-elves only parent to their own sex. Your body shows it has born two. For you to have two is most unordinary.”

“My second is a son.”

The Sorceress looked her over for a long moment in fascination. Finally she whispered as she turned away. “Most extra ordinary.”

*          *          *

True to his word, after they left the village, Caspian became a clogged drain of information. Some things he answered circumspectly, as if there were some ideas that had to be broached carefully. He had already told Steven where they were, galacticly. Now he gave a bit more information. As they ate breakfast at their campfire, Caspian took a stick and scratched out a crude map on the ground.

“We are here, in these foothills.” He scratched some chevrons on the ground. “We are going here first; the town I think the locals called Tonif.” He scratched a circle next to the mountains. “That is about four days travel. There we resupply, and see about getting you some better native dress. Next are the rest of these highlands, some more mountains and the subsequent foothills; several towns, the Capitol city of that kingdom, a few more towns, and the coast city.” He scratched some more chevrons, circles, and a line for the sea coast.

“From here we catch a ship and sail down the coast. We do this a few more times to get to The Kingdom of Krogg. From there we have to travel to the Capitol, Skarg, and find just where they took your kids, presuming we are not yet ahead of them by that point.” Caspian scratches another sea coast, some smaller circles and a last circle with some mountains inland of it. “After that we go there and get them. Along the way, we figure out where to take them that they will be safe.”

Steven looked at the ground. He still did not quite believe he was doing this. He had also noticed over the last few days that his eyesight was becoming more acute and the colors more vivid. Also his other senses seemed to be increasingly acute, and distracting. A tingling seamed to be across his whole body, like the ringing in ones ears; this was increasingly distracting and frustrating.

“And what Roxanne? Where is she? When do we look for her? What assurance do I have that this is all real?” He started to pace around the fire and across Caspian’s sketch, gesturing as he went. “For all I know this is just some crazy dream. I will wake up at any moment, and be back home in bed. Except that you are here with me, and I have experienced too many real things. But I may even be dreaming that.” Steven knew that ranting was out of character for him, but he had picked up some habits from Leticia in getting up and talking out problems with the walls.

Caspian stood as Steven walked passed him again. Steven continued his monologue. He reached a quick hand at Steven’s head, and plucked a hair.

“What was that for?” He rubbed his head where the hair had been plucked.

“Watch.” Caspian just started to dig through his bag, until he produced a piece of cloth that he unrolled, which had several individual hairs. He rolled it back together, and set it aside.

 “Last night we finally got into this forest. This is where I have been trying to get to since realizing I left a tracker back on Terra.”

Caspian then took a small bowl from Steven’s mess kit and walked over to one of the pine trees. He muttered something and using his knife he pealed some bark back. He held the bowl under the bark and filled it part way with thin, gooey sap. He then smoothed the bark, muttering again. He sat back down at the fire, and set the bowl on a rock. Next Caspian rummaged through his robe and pouches, until he had a small pile of ingredients. Among them was the hairs of Roxanne’s, and each of the kids, which he had picked up. What he did not need was put back away, including the kid’s hair, as he did not have enough ingredients to use for four, yet.

He combined the proper ingredients in the bowl and let it melt. Once the mix was thin enough he put Steven’s and Roxanne’s hair into individual pans and poured half the mixture over each one, muttering under his breath. He then set the two pans aside, and turned to cleaning the first one.

“As soon as those cool, I can invest them with the proper energies. That done I can determine your location and general status. As well as your wife. Combine them and ask them properly, and they can tell about your kids collectively.”

He scrubbed the pan with some dirt, and then had Cyrril belch a little fire on it. He scrubbed it a bit more, and then dunked it into the small pot of boiling water.

When the camp was packed up, they turned back to the two pans. The lumps had cooled to the touch, and came free from the pans easily. Caspian then produced some gold dust and sprinkled the flat sides of the lumps, chanting as he did. Then he carved a small rune into the back of each one. When he finished, Steven had gone off into the woods. Cyrril had curled up and was napping on a warm rock. Caspian held up the two lumps, and concentrated.

“Steven is a little ways away and still frustrated.”

Steven came back and they set out. Steven did not wait very long to ask more questions.

“So, what do you have?”

“I have two disks that I can use to track you and your wife, and use in concert to track your children. Ideally, this should be done with amber. But fresh pine sap will do.” He held his right hand out, and said a word in another strange language. He then waved the amulet back and forth. The side that was closest to Steven lit up brighter than the other side. He could also see the color shift through the spectrum and stabilize. Caspian looked from it to him and smiled.

“Good. It says you are healthy and very close.”

He held out the other one and spoke the same word. Steven recognized that it was conjugated differently.

The disk did not glow as strong, and shifted quicker, then settled to a slightly different color. “Your wife is a good distance that way and in general good health.”

Caspian then put the two disks together, gold sides touching, and spoke the same word conjugated a third way. The two halves flickered in concert, and then settled.

“Your children are close together, and in generally good health. They are a long distance that way.” He pointed south, compared to the path of the sun. “We will be going that way by boat. They are probably going by caravan, as they are more south then west. We might even get to Krogg in time to catch the caravan before it gets to Skarg. By then we will have figured out what to do.”

Steven seemed to visibly relax, if only slightly, now that he had some theoretical information that he could work with.

As they walked, Caspian asked the next question. “By the way, have you noticed that you are no longer speaking English?”

028 - Starting To Go Native

Steven found it strange to travel by foot through an agrarian nation. It seamed that all the land was either being used as farmland, or range land, or was older growth forest. He asked once about getting some kind of mount to ride, as they passed another herd on the nearby hills. Caspian responded that none of the local horses were for sale, particularly as spring and its chores came into full.

They soon passed into the area governed by Tonif. The range lands gave way to plowed fields with rock walls on their edges. A few of the walls show older split rail fences on or in them. Steven later estimated Tonif itself to be about four square miles, being arranged to a square. The road they traveled followed a river that ran through a culvert through the timber and earth-works walls.

Steven again felt very conspicuous for his size and his costuming. On the other hand he realized that he felt quite comfortable in this town. The market here was larger than in the previous hamlets they had passed. Here Steven was able to get a large enough shirt with sleeves long enough. He also got some local thread. Caspian noticed that Steven felt more comfortable in the market than he had in any time since Caspian had first met him.

Steven left behind both of his t-shirts from home with a fabric merchant, one was already wearing out. He also traded out the blanket he had been using as a poncho for a larger one as long as his coat. Steven looked over the leather merchant stall, and some other market stalls. Last he went to the weapons dealer.

In the weapons stall, Steven inspected and chose a crossbow, with a packet of bolts. This was not a large crossbow; to Steven it seamed almost toy size. But it was large enough. Steven could pull on a metal handle where the bolt of a rifle would be, and with a good yank pull the bowstring to its locks. Then slide the handle forward and seat a bolt. The grip was just a little small for his hand, but the furniture was nearly identical in general form to any submachine gun he had ever handled. Steven would have preferred a longer stock between the grip and shoulder butt, but it was the best available. Steven was surprised by the quality, until he realized that these people had to live by their craft, and so they made the best they could. Caspian dismissed the workmanship on the crossbow, unimpressed. With a shoulder strap attached this took up position over Steven’s shoulder, with the bag of bolts at his right hip.

Steven also inspected the swords. He did not know any specific weapon-smithing, but was surprised at how well he could discern the quality of the workmanship. He sorted through and chose a sword blade without any furniture. The smith was right there with a small forge, anvil, and several tools, and finishing tools. Within an hour this skilled artisan had a proper crossbar, hand grip and pommel attached and secured that fit Steven’s hand. During this time, Steven went to a leather stand and got a leather piece for a sheath for the sword, some fur, and some leather thong and leather straps. While looking over the leather, Steven realized why he felt comfortable, and the setting familiar.

After leaving Tonif, Steven began talking about his realization. “When I was younger, still in high school, my older brother got into a group called the Society for Creative Anachronism. He got me to go along with him several times, to what they called a Renaissance Fair. This last town felt like a fair.”

Steven stopped talking, clearly choked up. Caspian checked his magic senses, and saw Steven’s aura in flux. He let the subject go, despite his curiosity. Eventually he noticed Steven handling and practicing the sword a bit, doing what appeared to be correct, so far as Caspian knew sword play. Caspian picked up the thread of conversation at dinner, by the campfire.

“You appear to respect your sword.”

Steven held it a moment, then put it aside to work on the scabbard.

“I mentioned my older brother, and the SCA. While with them, I learned a bit of basic sword fighting and care. My brother though he could fight. He got involved in a brawl, and tried to use his ‘skills.’ He got knifed and bled out. I never went back to the SCA, and went into the Marines instead. They taught me how to truly fight, and kill.”

Steven had a seam started in the leather, and folded the leather around the sword blade and began sewing it up. For the next while he sewed the seam up the length of the weapon, pulling the seam tight. At the top he attached the small piece of fur, carefully sewing it so that when right side in it would wipe against both sides of the sword blade. When he finished with the fur, he slid the sheath off the sword, and using the open end turned the sheath right-side in. He then proceeded to assemble the leather straps, and cut the whole to length. The next morning Steven attached the straps to his belt, next to his ka-bar knife on his left hip. Lastly, with the sword stuck in his belt as he walked after Caspian, he closed the bottom. It was not high quality work, but it would do.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 9

Caspian calls these mountains. They are just big foothills.

Steven and Caspian were a few more days along, had crossed another short mountain range, following a river valley, and had entered a lower altitude forest, and were approaching a village. This forest was in the young leafy-tree stage, instead of the older pine stage. The leaves mostly past bud, showing it to be mid-spring. The loam on the ground soft under foot. The trees stood mostly in clusters, being young enough that the weaker ones had not yet begun to die off. The few pine trees were very tall, thick, and showing fire scarring on their bark, with no limbs in reach from the ground. Here and there were dead and dying falls, large balls of root forming small hills against the larger foothills they were trekking through.

Caspian had made a big deal about a marker they had passed coming out of the mountains into these highland hills. They had entered territory actively claimed by a kingdom. In itself this was not a worry, but many kingdoms charged entrance fees. They still had three days travel to the closest village, most of it range land. Steven had the crossbow out and loaded about half the time, partly in response to the idea of the infantryman’s teddy bear; partly for opportunity to practice against any critter they did not scare off from the sound of their movement.

Steven could sense that Caspian was a bit uneasy, but he kept going along the muddy foot path. Caspian had explained that he preferred game paths to roads, as a bandit was less able to find them away from the roads. But that was not what was making Caspian uneasy. His general unease was getting Steven’s senses on edge.

Aside from the sympathetic unease from Caspian, Steven was feeling frustrated and only his dependence on Caspian kept him from charging off. Steven was feeling alone, with all that gave his life meaning having been striped away or left behind. Partly Steven was in circumstances that he found unbelievable and was unable to cope. Steven was still having trouble with mana and magic. Up to this point he was still not fully accepting of even the idea of mana affecting him, as Caspian warned him occasionally. As Steven dwelt on the negative, it was energizing the negativity in him in a growing spiral. As soon a Caspian realized that Steven was struggling, he realized what he had to do to best help Steven. So Caspian cast a quick spell, and cut Steven off from the mana that surrounded him. This staggered Steven, and left him feeling like he had a cold, all of a sudden.

“What did you just do? What happened?” Steven leaned against a tree to regain his equilibrium.

“I placed a shell around you that has cut you off from the mana around you.”

“What?”

“Why should it matter to you? You don’t think mana is real.”

“Feels like I have a cold. Fine, so this mana is real. Now undo it.”

Caspian shook his head. “The shell will dissipate on its own in a few hours. In that time, you will learn of mana by its absence.”

Caspian noticed Steven stagger a bit as they went on. “You don’t feel well, do you? That is because you aren’t able to draw on the mana around you. You will feel better in the morning.”

Steven continued his mumbling and grumbling, but realized that he was only hearing his own inner voice now, and that earlier he had heard the world echoing whatever he thought. This led him to begin focusing on the positive. The first week of traveling he held himself aloof, but Caspian chided him on this. Steven now readjusted and was solidly on his way to figuring things for himself. As he sat by the fire, he almost sensed the magic shell around him dissipate, but more so it seamed that the colors of the world became more saturated and vivid again. He started to see himself as he really was, in this world, and to act as such.

029 - What Do You Know, And When Did You Learn It

As the days passed, The Sorceress taught Roxanne some simple magic, and began teaching the foundational rules of casting. With the spell that had been placed on her as a infant by Margot dispelled, Rox noticed her body was changing from human to elfin, as it returned to what it should be and was when she was born.

The spell that Margot had put on her, and that she had put on both of her children, had two main properties: first it affected a cosmetic change in features; taking the pointed elfin features and rounding them to human; setting the hair color and pattern to generally human. Second it restrained her physical structure to perceived human norms, at least as Margot’s grandmother had thought. For her predecessors this was fine, and part of why grandma liked the butt naked pictures. But Roxanne pushed to the physical limit in lifting weights, and was restricted by it.

The cosmetic result of it being lifted was that Roxanne began to show increasing definition on her physical structure; her fat thinning and smoothing more, her muscles bulking more and her features becoming a bit more angular and hard-edged in definition. At home, she had reached a ceiling in her weight lifting and body tone. With the spell gone, she was able to see sudden progression in her physical abilities and a noticeable increase in muscle mass and stamina. She did not balloon up, but was suddenly progressing again, like she has not in years. She was able to put together a lifting/exercising regime, and also martial arts practice. Her speed began to pick up.

Just as Caspian was seeing Steven struggling with mana, and adapting to Tywacomb’s environment, so The Sorceress saw the same with Roxanne. But with Rox’s hybrid origin, it hit her slower at first, but had the risk of ramping up exponentially, and seriously damaging Rox in many ways. The Sorceress, once aware of this, acted swiftly to head it off.

Roxanne had told the Sorceress about sensing magic organize during their lessons. But this time was not a lesson. Four days after taking Roxanne in, The Sorceress and Roxanne were back in the workroom. The Sorceress led the way in. It was just before lunch time, and the rest of the afternoon was scheduled for magic and other lessons.

“All right, strip and stand in the center of that circle.” Sorceress then busied herself putting together some components for another spell.

Roxanne obediently stood to the center of the circle, and started undoing her belt to take the rest of her clothes off.

Sorceress noticed, slightly annoyed at not being specifically followed. “No, stop. Come out of the circle, remove everything, and then enter the circle.”

Roxanne gathered her belt and skirt from the floor, without saying a word. She had quickly learned not to argue, especially when The Sorceress was dealing with magic. Once The Sorceress was ready, she was willing to explain. Roxanne already knew that things had to be done in a certain order. She just did not yet understand why. So she asked as she unbuckled the straps for her chains at her arms and legs.

“The circle is a neutral power base. Each spell involving it directs that power in a certain way. But until enough is understood to force outcomes all at once certain orders of actions must be followed to set the pattern for the desired outcome. I need you to enter the circle without anything on so as to deal with what spells are on you, and not on anything you are wearing. Entering the circle with even the slightest thing on could spoil that.

“I need to work a spell on you to fully unlock and adapt your potential. You will still need to learn and practice, but your full potential that has otherwise sat dormant will awake.”

Roxanne put off her loin cloth, and stood to center as clothed as a new born, which suited The Sorceress’s purpose. She was about to give Roxanne a new birth, to the innate magic that was her birthright.

“Now, lie down and tell the world: what do you see yourself as? Who and what are you?”

Roxanne thought for a moment. “I am Roxanne Caplan, a Mother, Wife, martial artist, instructor, housewife, daughter, auto mechanic, and many other things.”

The Sorceress stood at the foot of the circle, and cast first an anti-magic shell over Rox. Then she pulled all the mana out of Rox, watching as the nine swirls of energy about her body dimmed; this was similar to what Caspian had allowed to happen over an afternoon to Steven. The Sorceress then ran a trickle back in, paying attention to how the nine swirls of energy about Rox’s body reacted. She started with the swirl closest to her, below Rox’s feet. She fed mana into this, and watched as it fed mana into the next at the root of her spine, and so forth, running up Roxanne’s body, and then out to the secondary ones in her limbs. The seven swirls each fed the next one up. Finally the one at Roxanne’s crown fed to the one about as far above her head as the first one was below her feet. When this one was ‘full,’ its spill over wrapped around and fed into the first one below the feet, forming a spheroid around the body with a helical spiral through the middle, feeding the swirls in the body.

As this happened, Rox first felt herself getting tired and, as with Steven, the color seemed to drain from the world. Then slowly she felt energy return, flowing up her body, warming and energizing. As it built she realized some subtle new senses about her body. The one that would last was a sense, almost visual, of all living things about her emanating energy.

As she finished The Sorceress relaxed, and collapsed. This took more energy than she had expected. Rox moved quickly and scooped up the fallen woman, and carried her out of the work room, down the hall and into The Sorceress’s own bedroom.

When she took Roxanne as apprentice/slave The Sorceress deliberately shielded Rox from the harem. After all, she is already married, and The King has other outlets. However this did not mean that they were in rough quarters. Rox put the unconscious Sorceress on her bed, and then turned and pulled the Page bell. Then she quickly ran to the workroom and collected her clothes, and gold chains. She was half clothed when the page, one of the girls, showed up.

Within a short while, The Sorceress was awake, and eating a vegetable soup to rejuvenate her energy. By mid-afternoon, she was on her feet and able to begin teaching Rox a better way to have helped, through magic. A few days of instruction followed.

After spending a morning listening to bureaucrats, and their petty squabbling, The Sorceress carried a mildly irritated mood with her as she strode into the workroom to find Rox was practicing with the mop handle as a quarter staff, after spending the morning cleaning the room. The mop head was by the empty bucket in a corner. She watched as Rox swung at the jars on the table, passing just over top of them. The Sorceress winced as one wobbled a bit. Rox then batted at an empty one, sending fragments into the far corner of the room.

The Sorceress sensed magic about this jar, and watched as the pieces flew back across the room and knitted back together on the base. Rox came around a second time, and the jar flew in another direction, this time it shattered against the wall, and reformed on the floor.

Rox stopped, breathing a bit faster than normal, and stood with the mop handle upright in her hand, all but at attention, upon noticing the Sorceress.

“Very good. Have you ever had to fight for your life?” She folded her arms and shifted her weight to lean against the door frame.

“My Lady, not per-se. But I have been in, um… four fights that were real.”

“Did you win?”

“Two of them, My Lady.”

“The other two?”

“Mom treated my bloody nose. And I got brought to this world, My Lady.”

The Sorceress nodded, and moved to a shelf full of assorted things. She pulled a short staff from among the things there. It looked a little longer than a cane, and was carved along its whole length.

“Bring the jar.” She turned and went into the main hallway.

Rox picked up the jar from the corner, and followed into the hall.

About five steps down the hall, The Sorceress suddenly turned, holding the shaft in one hand, and swung at Rox’s head. She dropped the jar, and ducked the swing, as she swung the mop handle into play. They danced back and forth, banging at each other. The Sorceress magically shoved Rox across the hall, and took the staff in a classic grip. A field of magic sprang to life around it and beyond its ends, making it very long. Rox was not sure what she had, so she moved to knock staves a bit.

The sorceress kept her distance, and swung the staff, the magic ends coming at Rox. Its impact on her mop handle startled her. Shortly she was getting all she could handle with the staff.

“So,” Rox started between hits. “What’s,” “the,” “point?” Each word punctuated by a hit.

“To win,” the Sorceress blurted.

Rox was good at staves, but had always preferred shorter weapons. So she deflected a few hits, to get the Sorceress to do a side sweep. Rox let this come between her hands, and swung into it hard enough to break her mop handle in two.

Rox went a few hits this way, with underhanded grips before backing out enough to switch holds to overhand. Rox felt a magic spell blow around and past her, making her very cold; she responded with one of the few she had learned.

“Lights bright,” she yelled.

All the torches and candles in the hall flared for a moment, brighter than outside at noon day.

Rox moved in on the flash-blinded Sorceress with her two sticks and was quickly inside her range, and ready to start with body blows, when the Sorceress shifted her grip again. The magic extending off the ends evaporated and on the staff the field changed. Suddenly the Sorceress was holding two sticks, each being half of the staff.

The Sorceress was good at this. But Rox was better. Without realizing how hard she was hitting, she ran through a pattern of strikes that sent one stick flying away; she broke the Sorceress’s other arm, causing her to drop the second stick. Rox's last swing stopped under The Sorceress’s chin, just before hitting her throat. They both took a few deep breaths, then Rox backed off.

The Sorceress cradled her broken arm. “OW!” She yelled, and broke into a chuckle.

“You’re very good, Roxanne. But there are still things you need to learn. You did not stop any of my spells.”

Roxanne stepped back, put her hands and broken mop handles to her sides, and bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, My Lady. Sorry about the broken arm. I only remember two spells: one shoving me back and one getting me very cold.”

The Sorceress picked up the one end of the staff with her good arm. They both limped slightly back to the work room, the Sorceress picking up the second half of the staff as she passed it.

“There were two more: one attacking footing, but yours is good enough you did not notice; the other was supposed to shatter your mop handle, but I missed. Let me show you how to deal with broken bones. Get the door, please.”

They walked into the workroom and put the sticks down on a table. The Sorceress then got a small bowl out and talked Rox through brewing a quick potion.

Rox felt her sinuses clear at the pungency of one the ingredients. It was soon absorbed in the rest. “What is this stuff?”

“The ‘stuff’ is mainly a focus point, and catalyst. Once smooth, it’s ready.”

Rox was stirring the stuff with what to her was a wooden tongue depressor. It quickly smoothed to the consistency of runny sour cream, the color of caramel. The Sorceress put her hand to the edge of the table and pulled her arm as flat as she could stand to make it. She winced a bit.

“Now, spread that around the break, using the stick to paint the area completely.”

As Rox put the stuff on, the Sorceress rolled her arm slightly to help get it all around. Rox had noticed a buildup of energy in the bowl and more so, a buildup on the Sorceress’s arm as she worked. She used the whole bowl, and wiped the stick clean on the Sorceress’s arm, the stuff rubbing in like a fine lotion.

The Sorceress began a sing song chant. Roxanne felt the energy build, and flare briefly across the arm, and then dissipate. The Sorceress finished her chant as she gripped the edge of the table, and pulled her arm hard, resetting the bone, then let go with a relieved sigh. She worked and flexed her hand and wrist, while her arm was an angry purple, though otherwise intact.

“The bone is set and mended, but still weak, the magic encouraging it back to original shape. As soon as the bruises are gone, I should be fine. This salve was something I learned from a nurse as a girl. It’s useful for bones, and deadening local pain. But not much else.”

They cleaned up, as The Sorceress drilled into Rox the ingredients and recipe.

Rox doubted she would have means or time to use it, but filed it away.

At some point, while Rox was not watching, the Sorceress had reassembled the staff, and put it away. The mop handle was beyond use. Rox realized that if the fight had gone on much longer, the pieces would have begun splintering and splitting.

030 - A Few More Straight Answers

The next morning, Caspian cast a scrying spell to locate Roxanne specifically. Steven did not mention yet, but he had once been an avid reader of fantasy, starting with Tolkien, moving through much of the rest of the published library as it then existed and interested him. The falling out he had with the SCA had closed that chapter. As Caspian worked on his pan of salt water, he responded that he had a clear image, and had found Roxanne: she was in a fortress-structure, in a city in the kingdom west, whose boarder they were to cross before leaving the forest, if they had not passed it already. After cleaning and packing up, the two men started off. Caspian encouraged Steven to practice his sword work as they travel, and know that this will somehow work out for the best.

Steven was still irritable, but he found it easier to marshal his senses and focus on the job at hand. Now he had more information, if the source was to be trusted.

They left the forest and entered the highland farmlands that surrounded the next village. Caspian could tell that Steven was upset again, and was waiting for him to express himself. He was getting a bit irritated himself at that point. Steven was continually walking what felt like a half step too close or several too far, varying his pace as his thoughts affected his mood. Then he stopped in the middle of the road as they past a cornfield nearly ready for planting.

“Caspian. I want a straight answer.”

Steven had found an instinctive way of hitting just the right tone to get Caspian’s nerves. He stopped but did not turn to face him.

“You want.” Caspian let his irritation loose with that phrase, but spoke slowly to keep it in check. He could sense mana start to swirl around them, like a light breeze. “That is about all I have heard out of you for the last week. Don’t you ever think of anything besides what you want?”

Steven all but snarled back, waving his hands about to emphasize his words, unaware of any mana buildup, just that he was starting to proverbially see red. “Yes, I do. I think of my children being somewhere that God only knows. Of my wife being somewhere else. All of them in jeopardy. Of my business in trouble without me there to solve the problems. Of…”

Caspian rounded on him at that point, just missing the top of Steven’s head with his staff. Cyrril complained as he dug in to keep from being thrown off.

“You are still thinking only of what you want. What about the farmers we have been passing? The merchants and their businesses? Do you think of them? Do you have any idea what will happen to them it we do not get your kids back into your hands?” Caspian continued, moderating his tone and speed, trying not to loose control.

Steven stepped up to argue. “How can I?” He was yelling now. “You won’t tell me anything. I have no idea what makes my kids special to whoever has them. I don’t know that my problems affect these farmers. You seem to, but have refused to let me in on the secret, instead keeping the whole world on your shoulders.”

This statement could not have hurt more if it had been a sword running Caspian through, wounding him with its truth. He took a step back, and a deep breath.

Cyrril was picking up on the agitation, and if Caspian was not careful, would make it worse.

“All right. Try this.” Caspian took a breath. “The people who have your kids are the retainers of the dominant evil rulers in that part of this world. They want to have your kids raised to become purely evil. Then turn them loose to conquer as far as they can. They don’t care what this means to you, or what it will mean to that farmer, or anybody. And right now you are acting the same way.” Caspian pointed out into the cornfield as he spoke.

“Well, Atlas, I am, am I?”

“Yes. And you’re irritating me greatly.”

“Well gee. I wouldn’t be acting this way if you would just tell me what’s going on.”

They stood almost nose to nose, Steven most of a head taller, in a ridiculous shouting contest.

“Right now we are going to get your wife, before continuing after your kids.”

“Yeah. Right. So where are we going?”

“To the capitol. I don’t remember the name just now.”

“What will we have to do to get there?”

“Walk. And not kill each other.”

“And after that?”

“Figure out how to get your wife back.”

Both of them were too disciplined to throw the first blow. But they also were to the point of needing a physical release, or this would not end. All through the argument Cyrril had been hissing and spitting in tune to Caspian; his fight-or-flight was at a much baser level than either of the men. Cyrril took the first swing, and swatted at Steven.

Steven slapped Cyrril off Caspian’s shoulder, and into the ditch at the side of the road. That set Caspian off. The staff almost moved on its own, right into Steven’s chest knocking his wind out and him down.

Steven lashed out and kicked Caspian’s feet out, he went down. They both got to their feet, already covered in road dust.

Steven was shrugging off his pack, crossbow, and great coat, as he drew in more air. He threw them as one pile to land almost on top of Cyrril as they cleared the ditch. The little beast did not see them coming and Steven was not looking where he was tossing. Unburdened, he drew his sword.

Caspian simply adjusted his grip and started in on him with the staff.

They both stopped for a moment, looking at each other to see if they were going to commit to this. Then they closed in a clash of staff and sword, fists, arms, legs, and bodies. The dust up could not have gone very long.

When it was done Caspian had a few more nicks in his staff, and a bloody mouth and nose. He also needed a new outer cloak, or to repair a slash the length of his arm. Steven was limping and cradling a sore shoulder

Cyrril, for his part, was the most upset having landed in an irrigation ditch full of mud.

Steven and Caspian kept their silence until nightfall. As they sat by the campfire, Caspian mended his cloak, and thought about what he knew and did not know about their situation and the lands they were traveling through, and how much he could tell Steven, and how to say it. He finally spoke.

“Steven. I’m not used to having traveling companions. You are not used to this land. I have to learn to share my information. You need to learn to better keep an even temper. So here is where things sit. You need some more experience with this world, and to continue to change your costume to look more like a native. I have more information to share, but need to check with some sources first, to get it right. We also need to go retrieve Roxanne. From there we can get on with retrieving your kids. They will all be safe enough until we can get to them.”

“How do you know that?”

Caspian held up the small amulets he had made some days before.

“Aside from this, I know because of what my sources told about what is wanted with your kids. To get them, you and Roxanne need to be together, at least in spirit. As for Roxanne currently, last I knew The King here is as good a king as anybody can expect. I remember something about a habit of looking for new recruits for his harem. Once he learns that she is already married, he won’t touch her. More so they will be expecting us to come and get her.”

“I look forward to meeting these sources of yours. Maybe they can give me some comfort about my kids.”

They sat and watched the fire for a while. Then Steven spoke up. For the first time in a while he was asking questions about this world, rather than about their plight.

“Something happened while we were fighting. Normally, when a person’s heart rate goes up the motor controls get dull, and perceptions focus to the exclusion of the peripheral. I felt like the opposite happened for a few moments. Like I could sense everything, and see your moves before they happened, but not always.”

“You were tuning in to the mana of this world.”

“That sounds like ‘the force’.”

“Similar idea; and it is found in virtually every civilization, in their history and literature. The summary is this: As you focus yourself, you become more effective and aware of what the energy of the world is trying to tell you. You eventually get to the point where you open up to direct unfiltered input from the world around you. You can then use this power to increase your natural abilities. Like anything, the more you do it, the better you get.”

“I think I have experienced this before, shooting. You say it has something to do with this mana? Does that mean that I am going to go into a fugue like that the more I fight?”

“Something like that, if you are open to it. You need not worry about casting magic about; that is an inborn talent, and none native to your world are able to use it. Does all this worry you?

“I’m not sure.”

“This world is saturated with mana – with life energy. Eventually everyone becomes what he or she thinks they are. The natives are trained from their infancy to be who they are, just like anywhere else. As a visitor, you are bound to experience some strange things. Tell me, what do you see yourself as, not just your costume, but your person?”

“A protector, a former Marine officer. And a businessman. A father and Husband.”

“In time you will be able to draw on the magic of this world to enhance those rolls. Not in any way you can conceive of now, but you will,” Caspian assured Steven.