[Fic] "Ashes" part 11 - original, NaNo 2010
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Ashes, part 11
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[She shrugged at Riam's questioning look. "Such worries are not always unfounded. But after another month, I realized I could introduce myself only as a wandering magician and not name my home or family. That was simpler. No one wonders at a magician wanting to leave his home and find a quiet place to experiment, and no border guard wants to anger a magician by delaying his passage."]
It was beyond strange to think of lands where magicians were common enough that people were used to dealing with them, even if those dealings took the form of playing grass and waiting for the fire to sweep over and on into the distance. Somehow, though, it was even stranger to think that so much of the world still carried on as if the Gate had never opened and the miasma didn't lurk outside every border, waiting to slip through any gaps.
Zerlon had no tariffs. What would be the point? Zerlon traded food and salt to the freeholders in return for scavenged stone and metal from the lost cities up and down the river; the guards offered protection to the region because patrols served everyone's interest. To falsely weight the terms of that bargain in favor of one side or the other would be mutual suicide. Zerlon's holders couldn't afford to look inward instead of out, or see neighbors as threats instead of supports.
The north sounded like a different world, as alien as the other worlds magicians drew their powers from.
But before Riam could ask Morgalen more about her home, the door to the corridor swung open again, changing the pattern of light and shadow on the walls and floor. Zalir stood aside, propping the door as several other people filed into the map room. Riam marked them off as they pulled out chairs and settled around the table: the five regional voices, Korim who kept the chronicles, Zalir and Werabim from the guards, and Neradur who kept the accounts. Adding himself and Tir, all eleven members of the council were present. A foreign visitor, while rare, wouldn't normally rate such attention. Tir must be more wary than she'd let on.
Morgalen stood at the table's edge, her hand still resting on the old map. "You are serious about your dislike for secrets," she murmured to Riam. "My father would have questioned a stranger with only a guard oathbound to silence there as witness -- and perhaps also my brother, to teach him the way of things."
After her talk of assassins and spies, such apparent carelessness in the face of danger struck Riam as odd. "You worry more about rumors than a binder's life?" he asked. Magicians were, after all, unstable. Nobody sane would willingly rip his soul free from the world's soul and tie it to a strange and hostile world for all eternity.
Morgalen, Riam reminded himself, was a magician. No matter how calmly she talked to him, Zalir had seen her throw fire over a minor provocation. There was no knowing what drove her -- no way to guess what wire would pull the trap of her madness tight around them. Not until she told them.
Morgalen's smile flickered in the shifting light, and she held up one hand in the open-palm gesture whose meaning Riam still didn't know.
"The High Binder is more than a simple binder, of course, but there are always heirs in waiting. Besides, what is to say the guard might not also be a magician? Magic is shameful in war, but assassination is already shameful. There is no dishonor using magic to guard against it." She glanced pointedly toward Tir, who was settling into a chair at the other end of the table, and asked, without bothering to lower her voice, "What could you do to stop me?"
The nearest people shifted back, alarm and anger breaking over their faces. Riam felt more than saw Zalir move toward them, while Werabim stood from his chair beside Tir, ready to block Morgalen's implicit threat.
But there was no threat. Just a question. And suddenly everything came clear.
"I would raise a binding through you to break your attention and let Zalir take you down, just as your father would have done," Riam said calmly. "Magicians feel wards the same way the taint-twisted do. But you won't attack us," he added.
Morgalen raised one eyebrow, focusing on Riam as if no one else in the room existed. "No?"
"You want our help," Riam said. "You can't get it by force. You can only get it with our free consent. You won't strike anyone here."
Unless she lost all control, he added to himself -- magicians were said to sometimes lose their ability to hold shut the gates in their souls -- but Morgalen seemed far too strong-willed to be near that kind of collapse.
"And on that reassuring note," Zalir said, flipping a knife end to end as she leaned against the wall with a clear sight line toward both Tir and Morgalen, "why don't you tell us what made you cross the earth to the edge of the Waste, and what favors you want to ask while you're in Zerlon."
Morgalen shrugged, and then pulled out the chair she was standing behind. Riam sat next to her, and noted that she was kneeling on the seat, giving herself the illusion of more height. He wondered why she bothered -- her personality overwhelmed her body, and he kept forgetting how tiny she was.
"My name," Morgalen said, her voice ringing clear and direct through the room, "is Morgalen ha le Shani. The favor I ask of you is shelter and assistance for me and my companion on our journey, once she recovers from her wounds. And the reason we have come south is to close the Gate."
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1) That would be the end of chapter one. \o/
2) I actually had this mostly written longhand as of Tuesday night -- I lost Sunday and Monday to continuing computer troubles and a recurrence of my on-again off-again cold -- but I couldn't get it typed and posted until tonight -- computer troubles again. Now I am off to write Morgalen's actual story and explanation, after which we move on to the next day, the proper introduction of the taint-house and Kivarunanga Gydra, and the plot gimmick that will force Riam and Zalir to join Morgalen's quest.
3) I am infodumping so badly in this section and the previous one. Sorry about that. I will smooth those passages out in December.
4) 900 words today, 14,750 total.
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On an unrelated note, my digestive system hates me today. I cordially hate it back. Ow, ow, ow, and ick. Fortunately, the troubles did not kick in until this afternoon, several hours after I returned home from my dentist appointment. That would have been awkward.
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Ashes, part 11
---------------------------------------------
[She shrugged at Riam's questioning look. "Such worries are not always unfounded. But after another month, I realized I could introduce myself only as a wandering magician and not name my home or family. That was simpler. No one wonders at a magician wanting to leave his home and find a quiet place to experiment, and no border guard wants to anger a magician by delaying his passage."]
It was beyond strange to think of lands where magicians were common enough that people were used to dealing with them, even if those dealings took the form of playing grass and waiting for the fire to sweep over and on into the distance. Somehow, though, it was even stranger to think that so much of the world still carried on as if the Gate had never opened and the miasma didn't lurk outside every border, waiting to slip through any gaps.
Zerlon had no tariffs. What would be the point? Zerlon traded food and salt to the freeholders in return for scavenged stone and metal from the lost cities up and down the river; the guards offered protection to the region because patrols served everyone's interest. To falsely weight the terms of that bargain in favor of one side or the other would be mutual suicide. Zerlon's holders couldn't afford to look inward instead of out, or see neighbors as threats instead of supports.
The north sounded like a different world, as alien as the other worlds magicians drew their powers from.
But before Riam could ask Morgalen more about her home, the door to the corridor swung open again, changing the pattern of light and shadow on the walls and floor. Zalir stood aside, propping the door as several other people filed into the map room. Riam marked them off as they pulled out chairs and settled around the table: the five regional voices, Korim who kept the chronicles, Zalir and Werabim from the guards, and Neradur who kept the accounts. Adding himself and Tir, all eleven members of the council were present. A foreign visitor, while rare, wouldn't normally rate such attention. Tir must be more wary than she'd let on.
Morgalen stood at the table's edge, her hand still resting on the old map. "You are serious about your dislike for secrets," she murmured to Riam. "My father would have questioned a stranger with only a guard oathbound to silence there as witness -- and perhaps also my brother, to teach him the way of things."
After her talk of assassins and spies, such apparent carelessness in the face of danger struck Riam as odd. "You worry more about rumors than a binder's life?" he asked. Magicians were, after all, unstable. Nobody sane would willingly rip his soul free from the world's soul and tie it to a strange and hostile world for all eternity.
Morgalen, Riam reminded himself, was a magician. No matter how calmly she talked to him, Zalir had seen her throw fire over a minor provocation. There was no knowing what drove her -- no way to guess what wire would pull the trap of her madness tight around them. Not until she told them.
Morgalen's smile flickered in the shifting light, and she held up one hand in the open-palm gesture whose meaning Riam still didn't know.
"The High Binder is more than a simple binder, of course, but there are always heirs in waiting. Besides, what is to say the guard might not also be a magician? Magic is shameful in war, but assassination is already shameful. There is no dishonor using magic to guard against it." She glanced pointedly toward Tir, who was settling into a chair at the other end of the table, and asked, without bothering to lower her voice, "What could you do to stop me?"
The nearest people shifted back, alarm and anger breaking over their faces. Riam felt more than saw Zalir move toward them, while Werabim stood from his chair beside Tir, ready to block Morgalen's implicit threat.
But there was no threat. Just a question. And suddenly everything came clear.
"I would raise a binding through you to break your attention and let Zalir take you down, just as your father would have done," Riam said calmly. "Magicians feel wards the same way the taint-twisted do. But you won't attack us," he added.
Morgalen raised one eyebrow, focusing on Riam as if no one else in the room existed. "No?"
"You want our help," Riam said. "You can't get it by force. You can only get it with our free consent. You won't strike anyone here."
Unless she lost all control, he added to himself -- magicians were said to sometimes lose their ability to hold shut the gates in their souls -- but Morgalen seemed far too strong-willed to be near that kind of collapse.
"And on that reassuring note," Zalir said, flipping a knife end to end as she leaned against the wall with a clear sight line toward both Tir and Morgalen, "why don't you tell us what made you cross the earth to the edge of the Waste, and what favors you want to ask while you're in Zerlon."
Morgalen shrugged, and then pulled out the chair she was standing behind. Riam sat next to her, and noted that she was kneeling on the seat, giving herself the illusion of more height. He wondered why she bothered -- her personality overwhelmed her body, and he kept forgetting how tiny she was.
"My name," Morgalen said, her voice ringing clear and direct through the room, "is Morgalen ha le Shani. The favor I ask of you is shelter and assistance for me and my companion on our journey, once she recovers from her wounds. And the reason we have come south is to close the Gate."
---------------
---------------
---------------
1) That would be the end of chapter one. \o/
2) I actually had this mostly written longhand as of Tuesday night -- I lost Sunday and Monday to continuing computer troubles and a recurrence of my on-again off-again cold -- but I couldn't get it typed and posted until tonight -- computer troubles again. Now I am off to write Morgalen's actual story and explanation, after which we move on to the next day, the proper introduction of the taint-house and Kivarunanga Gydra, and the plot gimmick that will force Riam and Zalir to join Morgalen's quest.
3) I am infodumping so badly in this section and the previous one. Sorry about that. I will smooth those passages out in December.
4) 900 words today, 14,750 total.
---------------
On an unrelated note, my digestive system hates me today. I cordially hate it back. Ow, ow, ow, and ick. Fortunately, the troubles did not kick in until this afternoon, several hours after I returned home from my dentist appointment. That would have been awkward.
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comments)