Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 20. Murder in Adelaide

Chapter 20: Murder in Adelaide

Three tendays of travel over farm roads and through tiny farm villages brought the companions to the first town and the northern terminus of the Royal Road…the paved part of it, that is. The town’s name was Adelaide, and it was a center of mining, forestry, and farming. The guards were apparently accustomed to dirty, disheveled, and somewhat disreputable people entering the town, and did not challenge them, but merely waved them through.

“Where are we going to stay,” George asked. “Someplace with a big courtyard? We haven’t had serious weapons practice in forever!”

“Someplace with a big bath,” Gary said.

“And something beside pottage for breakfast,” Larry added.

“Let’s see what we see…keep your eyes open,” Arthur said. He’d been testing the matrix carefully, and found no indication that anyone was following them. Perhaps they could stay for several days…even a few tendays. It would be good for the horses and the boys…they needed some down time to rest, study, and train.

“This doesn’t look like an inn…but look at the sign,” Gary said.

“Looks like somebody’s house,” Larry added. “And the sign is new.”

Hanging from a gatepost of a large house was a sign with symbols showing that horses and humans could find bed and board. Down the lane beside the house was a large courtyard. The doors visible at the far side of the courtyard were clearly those of a stable; the whiney of a horse that drifted from that outbuilding provided unneeded confirmation. The main building seemed to be a private home. The sign did not bear an ale mug; it was not a public house.

The front door of the house opened and a woman with a broom came out and began sweeping the porch. “Good day, Mistress,” Arthur said. “Is this an inn, or have we misunderstood the sign? Perhaps the inn is down the lane?”

The woman stopped her sweeping and brushed back her hair. “No, youngling, you’ve not misunderstood. It’s my home, but having lost my husband, and having a family to support, I’ve begun to take in boarders. Four of you? I have a room. How long would you stay?”

“Several days, mistress, perhaps several tendays. Is the courtyard available for exercise and weapons training?”

“After breakfast, and until vespers,” the woman said. “Four of you, and four horses will be nine shillings a day, including breakfast and dinner. Dinner is after the vesper bell. Breakfast is in the kitchen…from dawn until tierce. Bath is hot an hour before vespers. Which is soon. You’ll want to clean up before seeing your room.”

“Indeed we shall, mistress,” Arthur said, handing her three gold coins. “For the first five-day?”

The woman nodded.

They met the first of the woman’s family in the stable, a tween named Robin who was forking hay from the loft into a bin on the lower level. He was glad of George’s offer to help, and returned the favor by helping the companions curry and feed their horses. “I guess I’m the closest we have to a stable boy,” he explained. “I was going to join the Guard, but when Papa was killed, Mother needed me to help around the house. Papa was a centurion in the City Guard. He taught me a lot. Anyway, when things settle down, I’ll join the guard.”

Robin didn’t look like a soldier. He was small for a tween, thin, with no excess fat but not a lot of muscle, either. His blond hair was cut short and a bit crudely as if hacked off casually when it got in his way. His eyes were a pale blue, set in a light complexion marked with a few freckles across his nose.

“Your mother said that we could do weapons training in the courtyard—from after breakfast until vespers. Actually, she made it pretty clear that she expected people to be clean when they came to the supper table. That means we’d have to quit at least an hour before vespers,” George said.

“You boys are going to practice here?” Robin asked. “Some of my friends and I do, when we can. Maybe we could train together some?”

“I think that would be a fine idea,” Arthur said.

“Hey,” Larry said. “Speaking of baths, hadn’t we better?”

All the boys of the family joined them at the bath, and confirmed that their mother would not allow anyone who was not clean at her table. Robin’s brothers were another tween named Kyle, and a boy-child, Espy. Kyle sent Espy back to wash behind his ears.

*****

As Arthur and George snuggled that night, George whispered to Arthur, “Robin’s cute, isn’t he?”

“What? Oh, I really wasn’t paying much attention,” Arthur said.

“He wants to share with you, you know,” George added. “I could hear it. Why don’t you ask him?”

*****

Lessons began immediately after breakfast. Arthur took a book from his saddlebags. “George, you will recognize the author of this one.” He handed the boy Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy by Isaac Newton. “It’s written in Latin, which should be easy for you to read, now that you’re proficient in Old Elvish. It describes some of the most fundamental laws of physics. It will be the beginning of your understanding of how magic interacts with the physical world. Later, I’ll show you some of the things Newton learned about light: what light is, and how it works. Not Light, as in Good, but light as in sunlight, firelight, torchlight. There are a lot of similarities between light and magic, and understanding light will help you better use your magic. The book also will help you understand what Larry sees when he looks at sick people and herbs; it would help Larry if you would learn it well enough to explain it to him.

“Larry, this book was written by an elven anatomist. In time, you will be able to draw and name everything in here. Both George and Gary need to know some healing…how to clean and bind wounds, set broken bones, things of that nature, and soon you will be able to help them. You and I will continue to work together exploring our bodies with mage sight. When we ride—probably every other day—you and I will search for herbs, too.

“Gary, it’s time you learned some chemistry. This book by a dwarven mage shows another way of looking at some of the things you learned from your father…secrets of the Smiths Guild. You’ll also find a lot about metal and other things that the smiths do not know. Larry will need to know chemistry, too, better to understand how to make healing potions, and you will be able to help him.

“It’s not all books, either. There will be practical things and practice for each of you; and, weapons training, too. I hope that we can stay here for several months…I’m planning on that, anyway.

*****

Arthur and the boys quickly fell into a routine. After breakfast, they returned to their room for lessons. Arthur assigned tasks, problems, or studies using slates or foolscap. He lectured them, individually, in pairs, or all together, depending on the subject. He quizzed them on earlier lessons. Before they became restless, he took them to the exercise yard.

By unspoken agreement, the boys helped Robin with his tasks—which usually meant cleaning the stable, and feeding and caring for horses. A bath preceded lunch, which was followed by sparring in the afternoon, and another bath before supper.

Robin was competent with a sword at the third level. Robin and his friends were surprised that Gary knew the Sword Mark spell. “How can you know this?” Robin asked.

“My father was Guildmastersmith of Bowling Green,” Gary said. Gary did not add that Arthur knew the spell, as well. Arthur had cautioned him: Tell others as little about us as you can. The less they know, the safer they and we are.

Larry and his friends had sparred with quarterstaffs, but without formal lessons. “Larry,” Arthur said. “I’m afraid you have many bad habits to unlearn.” Arthur smiled to take the sting from those words. “Fortunately, the early drills are very formal and very rigid. I think that going through those until they become completely ingrained will be sufficient. Until then, however, please do not spar with anyone but George and me, okay?”

*****

On First Market Day, Arthur gave each of the boys a sixpence. At Gary’s urging, the boys had shared the cost of several pots of paint and some brushes, a few pair of skimpy, white silk briefs and a pair of sandals for each of them, and a brick of beeswax. Between studies and weapons training, they’d been huddled over sheets of foolscap, sketching secretly.

The morning of the Autumnal Equinox dawned bright and cool. The boys were up with first cockcrow. George woke Arthur with a kiss. “You need to go have breakfast and not come back for an hour. Please?”

Arthur put on a tunic and belted it around his waist. Sticking his feet into the sandals the Mistress of the house insisted be worn (“No bare feet at the table!”), he grabbed his journal and left for breakfast.

Slightly less than the specified hour had passed when Espy bounced down the stairs. He ran across the slate floor, and jumped into Arthur’s lap. “The boys want you to come upstairs, now,” he said. “What are you writing?”

Arthur kissed the top of the child’s head. He closed his journal and sealed the writing stick in its holder. “I was writing a plan for Larry’s training. It helps me keep things in order if I’ve written them down,” he said. He stood, playfully dumping the child from his lap. “Come on, let’s see what they want.”

Gary had used the paint and beeswax to transform the boys. George was a lion, tawny golden. The boy’s black hair was now yellow and rucked up into a huge mane. With careful economy of line, Gary had drawn a lion’s muzzle on George’s face, and paws on hands and sandal-clad feet. He’d used darker lines to outline the muscles on George’s legs and arms. George’s toes and fingers were capped with wax claws. George wore only the once-white briefs, now colored to match his skin, and a belt from which a mock leonine tail made of rope and rags extended.

Larry had become a lithe tiger, boldly yellow with black stripes. Even his hair was striped. He, too, wore only colored briefs and sandals, and sported wax claws and fangs.

Gary was a snake. His entire body was a pale green, with glistening scales drawn from head to toe. Wax fangs projected from his mouth.

Arthur clapped his hands and smiled. “You boys are wonderful! Those are the finest festival costumes I have ever seen. I would hug you, but that might mess up the paint. Turn around, would you…so I can see it all?”

“Um, we were wondering about the paint. Can you do something magic so it won’t wear off, or run off if we sweat?” George asked.

“What will you give me?” Arthur said.

The boys huddled for a moment, and then Gary said, “We’ll let you come with us to the festival, and watch us win prizes.”

When Arthur’s face didn’t change, the boys offered the coin they knew Arthur would accept for any favor. “Okay, a kiss. But you’ll have to take a rain check!”

Arthur cast the spell very carefully to protect the paint and wax without enhancing them. Depending on the judges, the use of magic to augment a costume might be disqualifying, but protecting with magic was customary, and normally permitted.

“I guess I need something, too, so you’re not ashamed to be seen with me. What do you think I should be?” Arthur asked.

“Animal trainer,” they chorused. Gary pulled out his paint pots while George retrieved the bullwhip that usually hung in the stable. “Kyle said we could borrow it,” he said.

Larry got out a pair of the white silk briefs. “We had to guess at your size, but these stretch a lot. Come on, put them on!”

Arthur’s costume was much simpler than the boys’—a few stripes of paint to highlight muscles, a golden ring to hold his hair in a ponytail, flat sandals laced to his knees, and the whip. He also wore a belt to which was attached a pouch to hold treats for the animals.

The house was on the main street of the town, and only a few blocks from the square where much of the activity would take place. It would be open during the festival, serving food and drink, and keeping the horses of festivalgoers. They expected to be quite busy, and the boys of the household had to work. They gathered at the door to see Arthur and the other boys off, to admire their costumes, and—in the case of Espy—to beg them to bring home sugar treats.

As they walked to the street Arthur cautioned, “You three stay together. That’s your responsibility. I’ll keep up with you and watch out for you…you have fun, but stay together, okay?” When the boys nodded, he handed each of them several pennies. “And don’t forget something for Espy...I’ve the belt pouch to put it in.” The boys tucked the pennies in their belts and skipped down the street to the square with Arthur walking briskly behind.

As noon neared, Arthur pulled a large bandana from his belt pouch, and followed the boys from vendor to vendor collecting meat pies, cream pies, and sugar candies wrapped in the leaves of the water lotus.

At one side of the square was a staircase that led only to the bricked-in door to the second floor of a building. Arthur lifted the boys to seats from which they could see the entire square and then boosted himself to a seat on the next lower step. “Now this is a real renaissance faire,” George said, his eyes flashing over the square. Near the central fountain, a pair of jugglers made the air sparkle as they tossed what must have been a hundred—or at least six—daggers back and forth. In one corner, an acrobat did a handstand 15 feet above the crowd; his only support was a pole held by his partner on the ground. A tightrope reached from one corner of the square to the other, and a trio of equilibrists walked back and forth, performing daring feats when they passed one another. Finely dressed Rom walked through the crowd; at least one had a parrot on his shoulder. A mage performed illusions for a gaggle of delighted children.

Arthur saw sadness descend on the boy. “Why are you sad, George,” he asked.

“I’m sad that Kevin will never see this,” the boy answered. “He was so innocent, so naive, he didn’t even see the fakery and anachronisms of the Faire back home…he would have loved this.”

Arthur put his arm around the boy. “Never say never, George. Kevin—his soul, his spirit, his animus—the thing that made Kevin who he was is still alive and will be back, some day. Until then, remember him, and miss him, but don’t be sad for him or for you.”

George squeezed Arthur’s hand.

*****

The boys had joined the line to appear on the platform to be judged in the costume contest. Arthur and urged them to go without him. “You boys are the stars…and you’re a lot cuter than I am. Go…I’ll watch from here. Are those Espy’s candies? I’ll take them.”

The boys had practiced being the animals of their costumes; their antics on the stage brought a roar of approval from the crowd.

More meat and cheese and cream pies later, the contest winner was announced: a girl who had dressed as a maiden from an ancient story. Her costume was little more than a white dress and a crown made of grapevine and glass baubles, but her father, the Cooper’s Guildmaster, was most pleased.

“It’s not fair,” Gary said petulantly.

“No, it’s not fair. You worked harder. You’re more talented. You planned longer. And you created three costumes…four counting mine…that were all better then hers. You know it, and I know it, and George and Larry know it. All the boys at the house know it, too. And there are people here who know it, too.”

*****

That evening, Arthur and the boys scrubbed body paint off one another. George asked Gary, “You were a super good snake…but why did you want to be a snake? They’re evil!”

Gary looked puzzled. “No, they aren’t. Why would they be?”

“Snakes aren’t evil,” Larry said. “They kill vermin, and their venom can be used for medicine. Why would you think they were evil?”

“Because the snake tempted Eve in the Garden with an apple and was cursed,” George said.

“Oh-oh,” Arthur said. “George, that particular myth didn’t make it here. Gary and Larry have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh…” George said.

After bath, Arthur shooed Larry and Gary downstairs. “We’ll be along for supper in a minute.”

Arthur explained to George, “The story of Adam and Eve and the snake…people who believe that story believe that everyone is born sinful…they call the notion original sin. If everyone is born sinful, then no matter how Good you are, you are still Evil. If you are Evil, then you need to be saved. If you can be convinced that you need to be saved, then the person who shows you how to be saved has a great deal of power over you. That myth—and that way of seizing power over people—is the basis of many religions on the world where you came from. There’s no belief in…and no reason to believe in…original sin, here.”

*****

The final event of the festival was an aerial fireworks display. The light of the fireworks represented a commitment to the Light and an opposition to Evil which was symbolized by the growing darkness as days grew shorter than nights. Arthur and the boys gathered to watch with Robin’s family and friends on the roof of the stable

“You were disappointed by the fireworks,” Arthur said to George after they returned to their room.

“Yeah, a little bit,” the boy replied. “I was expecting great explosions…like you did at Questa.

“What’s the matter?” George added.

“Um, I did something at Questa I probably shouldn’t have,” Arthur said. “It is something that is known on World, but not widely. I hope I didn’t give anyone ideas.”

“What?” George asked.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur said. “Physics lessons tomorrow.”

Gary and Larry were exhausted, and after languidly sharing boy magic, they had fallen into sound sleep. George was too keyed up to sleep. After all, he’d just attended the most authentic renaissance faire ever. He propped himself on his elbow beside Arthur, and gently traced his fingers over Arthur’s tummy.

“Arthur,” George asked quietly. “About Adam and Eve and the snake. If the Bible is so important, why didn’t it make it to this world? I mean, if Shakespeare and Latin did, why not the Bible?”

Arthur lifted his head and looked at George. The boy’s face was barely visible in the moonlight that came through the open window. “Don’t you ever have any easy questions?” he asked.

Seeing the look on George’s face, Arthur reached out and touched the boy’s cheek. “I’m sorry, George. Your question was serious, and I treated it as a joke. Forgive me?”

George took Arthur’s hand in his own, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm. “Of course. I don’t mean to be trouble—” The giggle that ended the statement belied his words.

“I don’t know the answer, George. It was an excellent question, really. I remember reading that the Bible was the most-often printed book in your world. One would think that a copy would make it to this world. More important, one might expect that some of the stories in it reached here. I really don’t know. The book, the stories, might have come here and you and I just don’t know about it.

“On the other hand, it may be that this world had no vacuum of knowledge that the Bible and its stories could fill. There’s no belief in original sin on World. In fact, there’s no sin of any kind, so we don’t need the salvation offered in the Bible. And, I don’t know of anyone—in all my memories and those of Prince Aladil—who wondered or hypothesized about the creation of this world and its universe. Everyone seems to know that it always was and always will be. We don’t need a creation story, so we don’t need a creator. We already have all of the good rules in the Bible—our own version of them, anyway. Like, “A kindness is always repaid.”

“That’s like the golden rule,” George said. “But it’s different. Wait a minute…That’s it! The golden rule is exactly that: it’s a rule, an order. This world’s version isn’t an order. It’s…it’s like a statement of fact! It says what will be, not what must be.

“My brain hurts,” George continued after a moment.

“Hey, you started this,” Arthur said. “Want to wait until tomorrow to finish?” he asked, gently touching George’s cheek once more.

*****

“You all should hear this,” Arthur began the morning’s lesson. “No, you won’t need a slate, because this is something you must never write and never reveal to anyone.” He looked at each boy, and received a solemn nod.

“What I did at Questa, was to use magic to force two motes of dust to coexist…to occupy the same place at the same time. That is a violation of the laws of nature…something that would be impossible without magic. The two motes of dust completely disintegrated, and in doing so, they released energy at the atomic level.”

The boys nodded. Arthur had drilled them in the four levels of magic: physical, chemical, atomic, and quantum. They knew that the lower the level, the more energy was required, and the more energy that could be released. They knew that the lower the level, the more uncertain the outcome of a spell. They also knew that to be a master at the physical level, they would have to be able to see at the chemical level; to be a master at the chemical level, they’d have to be able to see at the atomic level. At present, the boys were struggling to see at the chemical level.

“You understand, then, that this is something you’re not to try?”

The three boys nodded again.

“But what about the fireworks?” George asked.

“What are the two kinds of chemical reactions?” Arthur countered.

“Huh? Exothermic and endothermic,” George replied.

“Exogonic and endogonic,” Gary corrected. George stuck out his tongue. “That’s the way I learned it,” Gary said.

“You are both correct. The words Gary used are more encompassing; the words George used are adequate for most purposes, and correct with regard to the fireworks.

“On George’s Earth, the bond between electrons and the nucleus is weaker than it is on World. On World, it takes more energy–or a better catalyst—to start an endothermic reaction; and, an exothermic reaction gives off less energy than it does on Earth. That’s why the fireworks didn’t explode, George.”

“But…can’t you make explosions…without the atomic stuff?” George asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “We’re going to work today on a spell to dissolve molecular bonds…the ionic or covalent bonds between atoms in compounds. If the process is slow, the compound simply disintegrates; if the process is fast—which requires the mage to put in more magical energy—the result can be an explosion.”

*****

“What did you mean about the snake and apple when you said that myth hadn’t made it here?” Larry asked. He and Arthur had been exploring Larry’s hand using mage sight, while Larry memorized the names of the bones and muscles. “Where are you and George from that your myths are so different?”

“Come sit in my lap,” Arthur said, “and I’ll tell you.”

With his arms around the boy, and the boy’s head resting on his chest, Arthur related the stories of how George had come to this world, and how Arthur, himself, had left this world and returned to it. When he finished, he realized that the boy was crying.

Arthur kissed tears from Larry’s cheeks, and then asked, “Why are you crying?”

“It’s so sad about you and Prince Aladil, and about George and Kevin,” Larry said. “I hope that Prince Aladil finds his best friend…and that George finds Kevin again.”

“Larry, you are so very sweet to see that, first,” Arthur said, kissing the boy again.

*****

“I’m sorry breakfast is late,” Mistress Martha said. “I just got back from next door. The child is ill…poor thing can hardly breathe. I walked with it, trying to comfort it to stop crying, while its mother rested.”

“Mistress,” Arthur said, “You know that Larry and I are healers…can we help?”

“Oh, if you would. I didn’t want to wake you…you’re guests, you know. Thank you. Espy…tell your brothers to get their own breakfast…and to see that there’s some for our guests. I’ll be next door.”

Arthur hurried Larry out the door and the two ran after Mistress Martha. When they reached the home across the street, they were quickly introduced as healers and taken into the child’s room.

“He’s resting now…” the mother began, but broke off when the child interrupted her with a barking cough. “Oh, no…”

“May I touch the child?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, yes, please…” the mother answered.

Arthur pulled back the sheet, baring the child’s chest. “Larry,” Arthur said. “Give me your hand.”

Arthur took the boy’s hand in his and put it on the child’s chest. “Now, look with me.”

Arthur seized magic and used it to see, and to show Larry, the child’s lungs, bronchial tubes, and throat, quietly naming each thing. “See how the mucus, the thick fluid, is blocking the air passages? Mucus is part of the body’s defense against disease, and when the body fights too hard, it produces too much mucus. Now, look at the blood. See how many white cells—the leukocytes—are in the blood? They are also part of the body’s defenses…when there are so many more than normal, it’s usually a sign that the body is fighting an infection from a disease. In this case, the disease is caused by this little creature…see? But look, this is an antibody that the body has produced normally. It’s cleaning up the disease. We don’t need to help the child create antibodies or fight the disease…he’s doing that quite well for himself. But he might drown in his own mucus before that happens, so we’ll concentrate on symptomatic relief.”

Turning to the mother, Arthur said, “I want to bathe the child...a hot bath…we’ll cut ginger and eucalyptus leaves into the water. In a wash tub, if you please, and with a blanket to cover…tent the tub to make him sweat. It will loosen the mucus and help breathing. But we also need to replace the water he sweats out. He will need water…not cold, room temperature…and fruit juice.”

Arthur watched while Larry prepared the bath. Larry sat by the tub. Arthur put the child in.

“Hold his head up, listen to his breathing, and look at his chest,” Arthur said. “I’m going to put the blanket over you and the tub, now.”

Two hours later, the child was dry, full of apple juice, and breathing and resting comfortably. Larry and Arthur left after giving instructions to call them if the child’s breathing became labored, and said that they would return after supper in any case.

“You did well, Larry,” Arthur said. “You’re getting better at seeing illness in your own way as well as in the traditional way. As you learn more about how the two ways work together, you’re going to develop a powerful tool for diagnosis.”

*****

It was just past compline a tenday later when the companions were awakened by a commotion in the street. Through the window, they could see uniformed city guards with torches milling about. The sound of someone crying came from the porch.

“What’s happened? One of the boys?” Gary asked.

Arthur sent out a pulse of magic and examined the echo. “No…they are all here and okay. So is Mistress Martha. She is on the porch with two people I don’t know. One is hurt, but not badly. He is terribly upset…” A knock on the door interrupted him.

“Arthur, mother asks if you would come downstairs. Our cousin, Howard is here. He’s hurt…and his family is dead,” Kyle said. The tween’s eyes were teary, and his voice caught in his chest.

Arthur hugged the boy, “I’m so sorry, Kyle. Of course I’ll come. Would you like to stay here for a minute? Wash your face, perhaps?”

“Mistress,” Arthur said softly, when he stepped onto the porch, “How can I help?”

Arthur treated a tween who had received a knock on the head, and then took him into the bath and helped him wash the blood from his body. Then, Arthur half-carried the boy into a bedroom. “The boy will sleep, now,” Arthur told Mistress Martha. “The knock on his head is much better. I will examine him later, in case he feels some residual effects. His other injuries have been cleaned and bandaged. How are your boys? For that matter, how are you?”

“I’m all right, thank you,” she said. “I told the boys to go back to bed. Perhaps you’d look in on them…”

The next morning, Robin told Arthur what had happened. “Mother’s sister, our aunt, and her family…there were 12 of them…had a farm…orchard, mostly…west of here…up against the mountains. Grew apples; made cider. They were attacked by brigands …early morning … everyone was killed except Howard. He was knocked down and hit his head on the floor…fell in a puddle of his brother’s blood…they must have thought he was dead, too.” Robin managed to stammer out the story. He and his brothers had been close to their cousins, and the family’s death had dampened their spirits. They moped through their duties, and were quietly grateful when Arthur and his companions pitched in to help.

“Master Arthur, would you accompany me to the Town Hall? I want some answers, but I don’t want to expose Robin or Kyle to any more grief,” Mistress Martha asked after breakfast.

“Yes, of course. When shall we leave?”

Arthur wore his sword, naked and clipped to his belt. By custom, he walked one step behind Mistress Martha and one step to her right. Everyone they met seemed to know of the tragedy, and stopped to offer condolences. It took nearly an hour to make the ten minute walk.

“Commander, I want answers,” Mistress Martha demanded. Her status as the widow of a centurion of the guard had gained her access to the commander’s office. “Brigands killed my husband, and now my sister and her family. No town lies within a tenday’s travel of here, and no farm whose people we don’t know. The brigands are miners, and when they’re not working, they’re in town, spending their pay…and the money they stole from my sister’s house…in the public houses here. I know that, and so do you. Why can you not apprehend them?”

“Mistress, there are over 2,000 miners who come and go in this town, and at least a tenth part leaves and is replaced by new faces every year. I cannot require any man to face a sembler without having reason to believe he may be guilty of something…other than being a rowdy drunk. Your husband was my friend, and I would like to find the person who killed him…I knew your brother-in-law…we were boys together. Your loss is much greater than mine, but I assure you, I want answers as much as you do.”

“Mistress, may I speak?” Arthur asked.

“What? Of course, please…” she replied.

“Commander, my friends and I are all magic users. The boys are in training, but each has a skill that may be helpful. With your permission, and that of Mistress Martha, we will visit the farm to see if we can learn something to justify bringing someone before a sembler.”

“Um…Mistress Martha,” began the commander, “May I speak with this boy in private?”

When the woman had been escorted out of the office, the commander spoke to Arthur. “You should know that these brigands were rather brutal,” the commander began. “The bodies are, in some cases, hacked up…I’m going to send someone to put a preservation spell on them…I don’t want Mistress Martha to see them before they’re prepared for funerary rites…she and the surviving tween are the only kin, you know.” The commander pondered the situation, then continued. “Can you and your apprentices ride out immediately? I’ll send soldiers with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur replied. “Our horses are at Mistress Martha’s home. We’ll go immediately.”

“I’ll escort her back home,” the commander assured Arthur. “I need to talk to her about funerary preparation…she’ll likely send someone tomorrow morning. Will that be enough time for you?”

 

It was a two-hour ride to the farm, and the companions arrived in early afternoon. The weather was crisp and the sky was clear…a beautiful spring day.

The commander’s words, which Arthur had relayed to the boys, hardly prepared them for the scene that met them inside the door. Blood, still sticky, thickly covered the floor of the main room. Footprints led through it, and the impression left where Howard had lain was clearly visible. Flies buzzed about the corpses of the rest of the family.

While their escort of city guardsmen waited outside, Arthur took the boys to the door one by one, carefully monitoring their reactions and helping them deal with the sight by a small flow of magically enhanced reassurance. When he was sure that they were able to continue, he addressed them. “First, look. Use all your senses, mundane and magical. You will each see something different. Taken together what you three see will create a powerful picture of what happened, and perhaps a clue about who did it.”

“Their spectrums are gray…black and white. The lines…they’re black. There’s no color,” Larry said. “Wait…that one…the little boy…it has two spectrums—spectra, I mean.”

“Look closely, and look with Mage Sight,” Arthur prompted softly. “What do you see, now.”

“It’s semen,” Larry said. His voice trembled. “It’s a man’s semen…it has sperms. The child was raped.”

“There were at least six bad men,” George said. “I can count that many auras. They’re too weak to identify, though. Whoa! What’s that?” The boy pointed toward the door to the kitchen.

“I don’t see anything…Gary started to say, when George interrupted.

“It’s a woman, and she looks kind of like Mistress Martha!” the boy said. “She’s pointing to her side…right side, just under her ribs.”

“There’s no one there!” Gary said.

“Then it’s a ghost,” George said. “Look with me.”

Though intense concentration and physical contact, the boys were able to see what the others saw with their own talents. Gary took one of George’s hands in his own and looked through his friend’s eyes. “Oh, I do see her. She does look like Mistress Martha…must be her sister. She’s pointing to a bright spot inside her…”

“Not inside her,” George said, “…inside her body!”

Gary looked at the corpses on the floor. “There, that must be she,” he said.

“She’s nodding, and pointing urgently,” George said. Arthur and Larry watched, silently. Gary approached the woman’s corpse.

“There’s a piece of metal inside her,” Gary said. “Oh, Arthur…I can’t…I can’t get it…please help!”

Arthur held the boy while his stomach heaved, and until Gary was able to control himself.

The piece of metal was the tip of a blade, likely of a dagger or poniard that had broken off in the woman’s body. When she saw that Arthur held it, the ghost disappeared with a satisfied look on her face.

“Look,” George said. “These goblets are silver…worth a lot, don’t you think? Why didn’t they take them…and this plate…it’s silver, too, and heavy. They emptied the casques in the bedroom of coin; why not take the silver, too?”

“What reason do you think they might have,” Arthur asked.

George pondered. “They can spend the coin easily, anywhere. They can’t easily spend the silver…or sell it…without raising suspicion…”

Arthur nodded.

“This hair doesn’t belong to anyone here, and probably isn’t Howard’s, either. We’ll check when we get back. Larry saw plumbum—lead—in the skin we found under the father’s fingernails. That points to a miner. Gary has the proportions of the metal in the dagger tip that George’s sight found, so that even if the owner files the dagger down, we’ll be able to identify it two ways: magically by association, and mundanely by analysis. Larry made notes of the pattern of the owner of the semen. The skin, hair, and semen are from three different people. Anything else? Okay, then, we have four things pointing to at least three brigands. Let’s go home.”

*****

“…we can, therefore, positively identify three of the brigands, and may be able to identify another…or at least the dagger that was used,” Arthur concluded his explanation to the commander.

“And you…or rather these boys…can identify these people just by looking at them?”

“Commander, if this were known outside this room, it could endanger these boys, and I would not want that to happen…but yes, Larry can positively identify at least one—the rapist—by sight, alone. He and George could likely identify two others by sight, but it would require a close examination of the samples we retrieved…the hair and skin. Gary can identify the dagger or poniard from this the point was broken, by sight.”

“When you say sight, you mean magic, don’t you?” the commander asked.

“Yes…Mage Sight,” Arthur responded.

“The people of this town are accustomed to magic…when it’s used to keep good air in the mines and keep the damp out. They’re accustomed to semblers’ magic, and healing. They are a practical people, who understand the practical uses of Craft Magic. But, they aren’t accustomed to magic sight—the kind of magic you are talking about.

“Even if you and these boys had been born here, and grown up in this town, your kind of magic evidence wouldn’t be enough. And being strangers? They’d sooner banish you. There’s no way that the Town Masters would bring anyone…not even a miner…before a sembler on your evidence. The money the mines bring in is too important to the town…the miners are a close-knit group…and everyone who is important in this town has a stake in mining.

“I’m sorry. You’ve done a good job, but I’m afraid…it’s just not good enough,” the commander said.

Arthur pinged the commander…the man was fundamentally Good, and thought he was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Commander, for listening,” he said, rising. “Please let us know if we can be of service to you.”

When he reached the house, Arthur sought out Robin. “I didn’t want to tell your mother this,” Arthur said, “and I hope that I haven’t hurt you by telling it. But something must be done, and you’re the closest friend we have, here.” The boys had sparred with Robin, swum with him in the river, and shared with him. Of the boys in the household, he was the closest to them.

Robin sat between Larry and Gary, who had put their arms around him while Arthur was telling an edited version of that they’d seen and done at the farmhouse. “No,” he said. “Thank you for telling me. I heard that the brigands…” he paused and took a breath, “…that they had raped and tortured. I know it must have been worse than you told me…And you really saw Aunt Beth?”

“It had to have been her ghost…and she looked a lot like your mother, except that her hair was cut short, and she was plump,” George said.

“Yeah, that was Aunt Beth,” Robin said. “So…what are we to do? What can we do?”

“If we can find any of the people we know were there, we can get a confession,” Arthur said. “But, first, we have to find them. To find them, we have to see them…and we have to see them for several seconds, without being interrupted, and statistically we’ll have to see at least 500 miners before we find one suspect…and likely more than that. So…how can we do that?”

Robin found the solution. “The miners always…always go to their Guild Hall when they come into town…they have to be in the guild to work, and they have to pay dues to stay in the guild. There’s a pub beside the Guild Hall, where most of them go afterwards…even if they don’t stop there, they have to walk past it. There’s always people hanging around on paydays…beggars, fortune tellers, sellers of amulets and charms…All we have to do is find a reason to be there.

“And, maybe we don’t have to see all the miners. The farm is too far away from any of the mines for the raid to have taken less than a day. The brigands, if they are miners, must have been those who had just been paid, and had the customary three days off,” Robin finished.

“Can we find out from which mines they could have come, and when those miners will next be paid?” Arthur asked.

Two days short of a tenday later, the boys and their allies were in place. They’d set up two tables near the Miners’ Guild Hall, securing their space by sneaking out of the house early, and appearing in the square immediately after curfew was lifted. George and Gary sat facing the Guild Hall, while Espy and Kyle sat opposite them, pretending to play chess. Larry stood behind George, pretending to kibitz. Arthur and Robin stood nearby. A sign bearing pictures of a donjon—the piece George still called a rook—and a penny suggested that the boys would challenge all comers for a penny a game. It was their earnest hope that none of the miners would take up the challenge.

About noon, the miners started to arrive, but it wasn’t until nearly nones that Larry, who had taken over for George, turned over his king and stood…the signal that he’d spotted someone.

“The one in the green cap,” he said to Arthur, “He’s the rapist.”

Gary had tied the bit of metal they’d retrieved to a string, and hung it from his neck. He hunched over the chessboard so that the metal was able to swing freely. Under Arthur’s watchful eye, the boy had poured magic into the metal, and given it a desire to return to the blade from which it had broken. When the metal piece tugged toward the door to the Guild Hall, he looked up. “That one…,” he said. “The one with the rucksack over his shoulder.”

As they’d planned, Arthur and Gary went after the man Gary spotted; Robin and Larry and George went after the man Larry had identified; Kyle watched over Espy. Others of Kyle and Robin’s friends moved in to remove the tables and game pieces.

Robin, George, and Larry walked behind the man in the green cap until he was several yards away from anyone else, at which time Larry skipped in front of him, turned, and said, “Would you like to have a boy? Or am I too old for you…perhaps you’d rather fuck a child?”

The man stopped in his tracks, and Robin closed in, jamming his dagger through the man’s over-tunic and tunic and a half-inch into his right side. Before the man could react, Robin put his left arm around the man’s shoulder, companionably, and whispered in his ear, “My dagger’s already an inch into your side. It would take me only an instant to put another nine inches of steel into you. That would reach your heart, I think.”

“What do you want?” the man hissed, his face contorted with pain and fear.

“We want you to follow that boy,” Robin said. “I’ll walk with you, and we’ll talk and smile as if nothing were wrong.”

Arthur and Gary brought their man through alleys and into the stable behind Mistress Martha’s house. When they reached the stable, they saw Robin and the others leading their captive.

Once safely inside the stable, Arthur spoke to the captives. “Two tendays ago, you two and four others raided a farm house about 20 miles east of town. You raped and tortured and killed. We want the names of your companions. You will tell us,” Arthur began.

“You’re just children…and you’re playing a dangerous game,” one of the men blustered.

“Look in my eyes and tell me if you see a child,” Arthur said, staring at the man.

*****

“You were right, George, when you said six men. Robin, would you invite the commander here? Larry, untie them, please. They’ll not cause any trouble, now. Oh, and would you bandage those pin-pricks in their sides?”

“Their confessions have convicted them,” the commander said, soon after. “The others they named will be brought before semblers … my men are already arresting them. Your part will be kept quiet. And, you will instruct all your friends who know about it to keep it quiet, as well. It would not help the town for people to know that the Guard was helpless … do you understand? I will admit my debt to you, but I cannot admit it to others. Do you understand why?”

“I don’t,” Gary said.

Robin answered for the commander, “Much of the commander’s authority comes from people’s belief in the strength, ability, and skill of himself and his men. Any appearance of weakness—whether real or imagined—would undermine that authority. Furthermore, the commander is protecting us, too. We did something he could not do—because the customs and mores of this community would not permit him to do it. It is in our best interest and his, and that best interest of the city, if nothing more is said of this.”

“Oh,” Gary said.

Arthur was the only one who saw the look of pride in the commander’s eyes.

*****

Arthur woke, instantly alert, but it was only Gary … going to piss … no, coming his way. Arthur carefully lifted George’s arm from where it lay across his chest and turned. “What’s the matter, Gary?” he whispered.

“I’m afraid,” Gary said. “Hold me, please?”

Arthur pulled the boy to him, and hugged him tightly, breathing his sweet breath. “Now, what frightened you?” he asked.

“What did that man see in your eyes that made him want to confess? What made him want to name the others? What made him want to die? ‘Cause he knows that he’s going to die, doesn’t he?”

“Gary, a long time ago, in another world…the world that George is from…I fought a war in a place called Viet Nam. It was a terrible war, as terrible as the great wars between Light and Dark that took place in this world more than 5,000 years ago. In fact, it was more terrible. It was worse in part because it was not a war of Light against Dark, it was a war of Dark against Dark. It was worse in part because of the weapons that were used. They were weapons too terrible for me to tell you about.”

Napalm, that stuck, burning, to the flesh of children; rifles that would put 30 bullets in a man in fewer than 5 seconds; bombs that fell from planes so high in the sky that they were silent and invisible; Agent Orange that ate the skin and left cancers to fester for decades; soldiers who sired bastard children—Children of the Dust, they were called—and then left them behind to become whores and beggars, he thought.

“I simply let him see some of what I had seen. It was his own imagination that led him to believe that I was going to send him there … ”

*****

It took only three days to settle the estate. “The money from the sale of Aunt Beth’s farm bought shares in three of the mines—Mother made sure that they were reputable,” Robin said. “The income from those shares, plus what was left over, will be enough that that Mother and the boys will be comfortable. Howard has already taken over my household chores. He seems very happy to be a city boy. Mother has agreed that I can join the Guard. I will be the commander’s apprentice.”

That night, Robin wrapped his arms around Arthur and held him close. Arthur’s boy magic pulsed deeply within him. “Oh, Arthur,” the boy said, “I will miss you so much.”

When Arthur had caught his breath, he kissed Robin. “Why do you say you will miss me?”

“I know that you are going,” the boy said. “It’s spring. The roads will be dry. George has said that you never stayed in one place for very long.”

“You are right,” Arthur said. “I must leave. And I’m afraid. My path will take me close to the Iron Mountains, and I have three boys to protect. I’m so afraid…”

*****

If forced to fight in a salt-marsh,
you should have water and grass near you,
and get your back to a clump of trees.
—Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The wind that blew fiercely down the slopes of the Arista Mountains brought a chill from the snow and ice still on the peaks and a hint of something nasty.

“What’s that smell?” Gary asked.

“The swamp?” George answered with uncertainty in his voice.

“The Fens,” Larry said, confidently. “That’s what the boys in Druid Hills called them.”

“This is a bad place,” George said.

“Yeah,” Larry said. “It stinks.”

“Methane,” Gary said. “Swamp gas,” he clarified when Larry wrinkled his brow.

“Damp,” Larry said, recalling his friends’ talk of gasses found in the mine.

“Not damp,” George interjected. “Downright watery and soft.” He looked at Arthur. “Should we walk the horses?”

“Not yet,” Arthur replied. “They are smart enough to lift their feet out of the muck. But we and they are vulnerable, here. We cannot easily run of we encounter any unfriendlies. Keep careful watch. George, you have the point…the lead.”

George nodded. Larry and Gary fell in behind him. Arthur took the rear from where he could see all the boys. I hope there’s something very, very important and worthwhile wherever we’re being led, he thought.

*****

Arthur’s passive search of the magical field yielded nothing. The odor of the swamp had an analogue in the matrix, and Arthur found he could not easily distinguish alligators from rotting masses of vegetation from a potential brigand. He was preparing to send a ping into the matrix—an active and noisy search technique—when danger struck. A dark green form leapt from the water, stone knife in hand, and grabbed Gary’s arm. At the same instant, a similar figure jumped from a hummock and ran toward Larry. Two more, and then a third appeared from the water and muck and ran toward George.

“Larry! Help George!” Arthur called and urged Aurorus forward.

Aeolia reared as one of the green creatures scraped a stone knife across her flank. Not a smart move, George thought and he brought the horse under control. He directed her hooves at another of the swamp men. He dimly aware that Larry was beside him, and that Larry had struck another of the creatures with his sword.

Aurorus was mired in the mud. Arthur dropped the reins, kicked his boots from the stirrup, and crouched on the saddle. Springing forward, he jumped over Aurorus’ head, landing on hands and knees beside Gary’s horse. If I’d landed on my feet, he thought, I’d be mired more deeply than the horse.

Gary struggled with the creature who had pulled him from his horse. The Lizoid had wrapped his arms around Gary’s chest, and seemed intent on pulling him from the horse. Gary’s foot, however, was caught in the stirrup. The Lizoid raised a stone knife and scraped it across Gary’s shin, apparently trying to cut the boy loose. Gary cried out when the stone knife raked his leg. Arthur drew his sword, but Gary was faster. The boy threw his arm over his head and buried his dagger in the Lizoid’s thigh. The creature released Gary and fell into the mud where Arthur’s sword found him.

Arthur looked toward George and Larry, quickly assessing the situation. The boys were sitting on their horses, but were no longer swinging their swords. “They’re all dead,” George said.

“Aeolia’s limping,” George added. His voice reflected his fear.

“Let’s take a look,” Arthur said. “Larry?”

Larry knelt in the mud and examined the horse’s leg. It’s just a sprain,” he said. “Tendons stretched, and one partly torn. Healing has begun.”

“You ride with me, Larry, please. George, ride Larry’s horse and lead Aeolia,” Arthur instructed. “We’ll walk to the next town. It should be only a few miles away.

*****

“Um, Arthur,” Larry began.

“Um, what, Larry,” Arthur replied.

“Why am I riding with you, rather than Gary, who is smaller?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Arthur said. “You killed at least one of those men, and I want to know how you felt.”

Larry stiffened. “Men? Oh, Arthur, I didn’t know. I thought—”

“That they were monsters? That they had no soul?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Larry sniffled.

“Shhh,” Arthur said. “I don’t know that they do have a soul, but I know they’re thinking creatures and that they can feel both pain and death.”

Larry’s body shook. Arthur hugged the crying boy closely. “I’m glad you’re crying, Larry,” he said. “But I’m much happier that you defended George—and Gary and me, too. Can you do that again, if you have to? Can you kill a man with pink skin as well as one with green?”

Arthur waited quietly, motionless, hugging the boy, while Larry gathered his thoughts.

“Arthur, I almost died before you and George and Gary saved me. I would not like to kill again, but if it was to protect you or them, I could do it. I would do it, and think about it afterwards.”

“Larry, I—and George, for that matter—will always be here for you to think about it with.”