Chapter 6 | PoV: Aisha
After the news that the caravan wasn't received. Aisha had headed back to her normally scheduled employment. It was not confirmed that the caravan was gone or that the Second Prince was dead. Merely that Kanimaw hadn't received the caravan yet.
Half a day overdue.
So, it didn't look good.
No doubt Rafiq was hurrying to organize various things. Pleasantries with Kanimaw, reassuring them. This would certainly put a strain in the relationship between the two cities, unless they worked together to resolve this issue. Whatever happened after this was yet to be seen.
Aisha sat at her desk, feather pen sleeping on a bit of parchment before her, unfinished paragraph mocking her.
How could she write the technique of transferring spell recoil from the user to the atmosphere? How would she teach that to others? It was easier to write that two opposite spells canceled their effects, yet that wasn't quite the case.
Her arms rested on the blank part of the paper, with her chin digging into her arms. Beside her, her staff leaned against the table
In the back of her mind, Aisha held precise time bubbles up around her colleagues. One for the aeolian mage, keeping away the winds. A second for the thermal mage, warding away the heat.
Aisha idly kicked her feet. She stifled a yawn.
Being a mage was so boring, and yet so important. Without them, Glorestra would be a burning, uninhabitable wasteland. Yet, like, it stunk so much. Even if she joined a caravan to trade for Glorestra or to run courier errands, it would be so boring. Sitting around for hours. That seemed to be the fate of mages both great and terrible.
Sit around, make sure a spell was being cast. Don't stop or your city or your caravan would be consumed by a force of natural and indiscriminate malevolence! No pressure!
Just try not to lose your sanity or tear your own brains out or succumb to the negative effects of using magic! Tehe!
Well, Aisha could avoid that, at least. Or, so she thought.
Oh. Their importance also meant they had intense security. Nobody wanted an assassin from a foreign city or some enlightened wackjob to saunter up to a tower and kill all the mages.
So, across the room from Aisha, a massive trapdoor sat bolted to the floor, locked up nicely. That repeated above her too, staircase leading up to it. Up there, the aeolian mage worked. Up above that, with—of course—another trapdoor, the thermal mage probably sweated their internal organs out or something.
On the topic of the thermal mage, Aisha's tower got a new person, because the previous one had been pulled on the caravan.
The caravan, that, kind of got lost between Glorestra and Kanimaw.
The one with the Second Prince.
Yeah . . .
In other words, her esteemed colleague was dead!
Below Aisha, on the first floor, a room of guards played with dice or cards or board, probably having infinitely more fun than Aisha. Yes, playing on duty. The guards were there just as bodies, maybe an alarm if they got lucky. Most assassins were mages, and would turn the guards into minced or scorched or bruised-to-unconsciousness meat in seconds.
Speaking of fun, she had once thought she liked writing these research papers. Aisha scoffed at herself.
Someone slammed a fist against the trapdoor. Aisha jumped in her seat.
“Aisha!” A voice called for.
Aisha knew that voice—very much so.
“Rafiq?” Aisha raised her voice.
“Drop your quill. We must head to the legislature immediately.”
Aisha stood up, pushing her chair away. Jokes on him, she had dropped her pen like twenty minutes ago. She snagged the key from her desk and her staff with her other hand. “What's it for? Did you get a swap-in for me?”
“Yes, yes. We must hurry. We—you—do not want to keep this waiting.”
Aisha bit her lip, and headed towards the trapdoor. Her room was circular, dimly lit with strings of llumifruits. Tiny little arrow slits gave her rays of sunlight through the walls. The same sandy tan colored the walls and floor and ceiling like it colored everything under Heliux's light.
She had generously filled bookshelves, and her chair and desk. Not much else though. It wasn't like she lived here. She had a house, like a normal person.
Her aeolian mage definitely lived here, though.
Aisha undid the locks on the trapdoor, then swung it open.
Rafiq and his attendant stared up at her, along with an unfamiliar face in the orange robes of a temporal mage.
Aisha's face contorted. “Where's Tawfiq?”
“Um,” Rafiq cleared his throat. “He's indisposed somewhere.”
“You mean he's passed out drunk in an alley somewhere?” Aisha raised an eyebrow.
Rafiq shrugged. He gestured to the filler mage, opened his mouth to speak, but stopped.
Zawar shook his head. “This is Hend.”
Hend bowed her head. “A pleasure to serve in your place, Chronomancer.”
Aisha's face paled. She opened her mouth like she was about to be sick. That was a title she never wanted to hear. Huh, had Hend spoken it without sarcasm or mockery? Wait, why would anyone seriously use that title for her? Was Hend oblivious of the social context in which that title had been bestowed upon Aisha? (They gave her a fancy title that didn't actually mean anything. It was a synonym.)
Hend continued up the stairs, passed Aisha, and entered her room.
Aisha stared, blinked once, and headed down the stairs. Rafiq and Zawar escorted her.
“She's going to read my essays, isn't she,” Aisha spoke. She nodded in acknowledgement to the guards on her way out of the tower. She was right, by the way! They were playing a game with a deck of cards . . . and dice? Hey, wait, was that a board too? What on Heliux's forsaken hellscape were they playing?
Rafiq and Zawar flaked the doorway on the outside, when Rafiq spoke. “Isn't it a nice stroke of the ego to hear your title? You made it so far.”
Aisha glared at Rafiq, then shook her head.
“Regardless of the title, you are special.”
Aisha stuck her tongue out at Rafiq.
“My, you're brimming with maturity for your age and position,” Rafiq said, dripping with sarcasm.
“It . . .” She sighed, trailing off as quickly as she opened her mouth to speak.
“You know,” Rafiq continued. “If you turn in that paper, you're bound to be bumped up to Archmage and have an actual title. Then you'll be able to get out of your tower, they won't be able to stop you—just an option . . . If you don't like this other choice . . .”
Aisha grimaced. Rafiq could spit poison at her while trying to help give her options out of this place. Why hadn't Rafiq used his power to make Aisha an Archmage already? A little bit of corruption or abuse of power never ended . . . Nevermind. Rafiq was far too noble.
Rafiq and Zawar walked together, both slightly faster than a normal gait. Aisha kept up with ease, dropping her bubbles as she got further from the tower. It hurt, a little bit—but also made her pity aeolian mages and thermal mages—that she wasn't necessary, just a quality of life bonus for the other mages. She could make eight hours seem like two, for them.
Rafiq and Zawar seemed kind of . . . in a hurry?
What was this about? Who did they all not want to keep waiting? Did the prince show up? Someone else from the lost caravan? Then, why did Rafiq amend his words with “you?” Something pertaining to her magical theories?
Or . . . The new mage? . . .
Aisha's stomach twisted into knots. Some kind of ugly, foreboding feeling swamped her.
The three of them hurried through crowded streets, keeping to the right sides. They walked in the shade where the pergolas allowed.
Aisha questioned why they walked. Surely Rafiq could have called for a cart or a palanquin or something—if they were in a rush, which they seemingly were. Maybe this was Rafiq's nefarious attempt to get Aisha to lose a little bit of weight . . . Aisha supposed she did not mind using her legs, it kept her in shape. One never knew when they needed to drop a time bubble and kick intruding mages with their strong legs.
No matter, in maybe thirty minutes, they reached the legislature building.
A grand plaza sprawled out in front of it, leading up to a wide flight of stairs. Guards flanked it, reaching up to the large double-doors and facade of the building, a row of guards standing on either side, where the ground was raised around the foundation of the building, to accommodate the stairs.
Rafiq and Zawar walked up to the doorway like they owned the place (they kind-of did).
Aisha pretended not to see the guards shuffle or look at her in surprise when she walked by. How unprofessional.
To be fair, she dwarfed all of them.
Okay, that was an exaggeration. She towered a few inches over the tallest, and her musculature could crush them in their armor with ease. One punch knocking out the mystery mage earlier showed that. All these men probably went green in envy for what Aisha had.
The two guards nearest the doors pulled them open. Cooler air rushed out towards the three.
Rafiq nodded and headed in, posture immaculate, the shorter Zawar at his side, and Aisha an imposing figure behind them.
They walked into a grand, open room. Parallel staircases began towards the end and turned like a split circle up to the second floor. A carpet guided the path from the door to the stairs. Rays of light entered through generous windows. A chandelier of llumifruits hung above the room. Pillars supported the ceiling from the sides of the main walkway. Beyond the pillars rested benches and tables with chairs. Beyond those, doors and hallways led to offices, store rooms, and meeting spaces.
A secretariat stood off to the right side, two pillars away. He waved to Rafiq.
Rafiq nodded in acknowledgement and the group stood in front of the secretariat.
“They have been waiting. Follow me.” The secretariat turned and walked beyond the pillars, heading to the back-right. Aisha and the two followed.
The secretariat pushed open a door and bowed. “Here they are, for you, Legislator Rafiq.”
Rafiq and Zawar headed in first, Aisha last.
She would have thought she’d be pushed in first, in case any danger awaited on the other side. Whatever.
A rectangular table sat in the center of the small-ish room, five chairs flanked its sides, while its ends had two each.
The side closest to the door was entirely occupied by five guards.
The secretariat poked his head in. “Let me know if you need anything." He shut the door.
“What is this?" Aisha asked.
The guards turned their heads towards the door.
“Legislator Rafiq Of-Nimat,” one said in acknowledgement. “Ah . . . Uh . . . And Chronomancer Aisha Of-Jinan? What graces our presence with you?”
Aisha sighed.
“We think—we know—what you have to say will be interesting to her, and directly affects her,” Rafiq said.
The guard paled. “Affects her?”
“Nevermind that. May we hear what you have to say?” Rafiq stepped up to a chair furthest from the door and pulled it out from the table, promptly seating.
Zawar sat at his side. Aisha hesitantly sat on Rafiq’s other side. Aisha sighed in relief as she sat, and took a moment to massage her sore legs.
“We were, um,” a second guard swallowed. “On bazaar duty today. Around midday, a merchant was assaulted.”
Rafiq's gaze pierced each guard in turn. “Where is this merchant now?”
The guard shrugged.
“Their name?” Rafiq followed up.
The same guard shrugged again.
Rafiq put a hand to his temple. His patience clearly fluttered away with each passing moment.
“Jad . . .” A third spoke up. “Al . . . Of-Rayan?”
“Shamsuddin!” Rafiq called. Aisha winced at the noise.
The door opened, the secretariat poked his head in again. “Yes?”
“Find Jad Of-Rayan . . . Merchant.” Rafiq turned to the guards. “Metalsmith?”
The guards nodded.
“Metalsmith.”
Shamsuddin bowed his head. “It shall be done.” He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
“Continue.”
“Y-yes,” the second guard said. “He was temporarily blinded, so that someone could steal from him. The thief ran away and we chased after. We too, were subject to temporary blindings.”
Aisha went wide-eyed. Rafiq turned to her.
“What did they look like? Mage robes? Dark metal staff? What was even stolen anyway? I take it . . . that this person escaped? What was the blinding like?”
“So many questions,” the guard uttered meekly.
“Yes,” Rafiq boomed, glaring at the guard. “And you will answer.”
“N-no mage robes. Young-ish. No—”
Aisha glanced towards Rafiq. “No mage robes? I guess they could have swapped out . . . Height?” This wasn't enough to deny they were the same person, yet.
“No staff, as I was saying. Tall, long hair. Quite tall, actually. Also—we’re getting to something else, still describing the first individual.”
“We did see,” another guard said. “We saw a mage like what you're asking, too, Of-Jinan, towards the latter half. They're what let the first one get away.”
Aisha's eyes and mouth went wide in shock again. “Was it the first that cast spells too? Not the second?"
“W-well, it's a possibility.”
Two individuals. Two potential people of this new magical type. Although, it could just be the one. Why would they help a random thief get away though? Maybe because of a kinship in their mage type?
“What was stolen?” Aisha continued.
The guard met her gaze. “T-this is weird—a razor.”
“A razor? Like? . . .”
“For shaving.”
Aisha blinked, glancing at Rafiq again. “A new type of mage revealed themself to steal a razor?”
“Y-yes.”
“You were blinded? I got hit by a weird pulsing darkness. One that made me feel gross, but I could see.”
A fourth guard cleared his throat. “We got hit by something like that, on their way out of the bazaar. People disappeared, it was all dark and cold. Until—weirdly—everything was normal, but they vanished.”
“‘We?” Aisha echoed.
“Us two.” The guard pointed at the fifth. “We guarded the exit, once we got wind of escaping thieves. Those three were there since the theft and were chasing.”
“Hmm.”
“If I may,” the first guard said. “Blindness was the easiest way to describe it. It was more like a darkness, or an isolation, of the eyes only. Like a lesser of what those two experienced.”
What did that ever mean? What did that imply? Aisha could only wonder what this magic was. Was it light? Or was it something else? She did not understand the particular events that day anyway. Maybe the act was simply to make themselves known—to reveal a new type of mage.
“Did anyone else know of it?” Aisha asked.
A guard shook his head. “Some of us cried out about not being able to see, but it was targeted—at least it seemed.”
A mage with a strange staff blinding people would surely turn heads. Maybe it was a publicity stunt? Why? Would it not be more advantageous to have it in secret? To use it in the middle of a bazaar? . . .
The great doors of the legislature groaned open.
“Y-y-your Highness,” a distant voice said, from somewhere out in the legislature hall.
What.
Pairs of boots clacked and echoed against the polished stone floors of the legislature. They got louder with each cacophony of steps. Well—a cacophony surely, if they weren't so in sync.
Aisha, Rafiq, and Zawar exchanged looks.
“This one?” Someone asked from outside their door.
“Yes, this one,” someone else replied. It wasn't Shamsuddin. He was probably out fetching the metalwork merchant or craftsman—whatever, the distinction didn't matter.
The door swung open.
The First Prince of Glorestra—Jalal Of-Ghalib—strutted into the room, complete with an entourage of six mages. Two with aeolian mage staves, two with thermal, and two with temporal. However, the First Prince liked swapping them around. There could be three, two, and one. Or two of each but a thermal mage held an aeolian staff or something. He liked to keep it interesting to throw off people. It helped in a conflict.
The six mages fanned out behind the Prince. The room started to feel a bit cramped and stuffy. Just a tiny bit. Probably mostly because of the royal standing in the room. Yuck.
“Your Grace?” Rafiq asked. He stood and bowed, holding it.
The guards immediately stood, some stumbling, others with more precision and control of their movements. Whether that was in their nature or due to a long and tumultuous day, Aisha did not know. If those clumsy guards did not have a good excuse, perhaps their employment should be reevaluated . . . That was harsh enough. Guards didn't really need to be good, just have a presence. They didn't do much in a world of mages.
Anyway—they promptly bowed. Zawar did the same. All six of them held it for breaths too long. We're they . . . going to sit down? Maybe? Ugh, who did the men think the Prince was to hold such reverent and respectful bows?
Rafiq elbowed Aisha.
Oh. Right. Not bowing at all was a touch too deviant. Aisha stood and bowed as well. She did not hold it. Short. Business-like. She returned to her seat.
She could feel Goodness Graciousness' piercing gaze upon her, judging, picking her apart. She did not let it break her in the slightest. The only critical gaze she'd break to was her mother's—considering it was infrequent and deserved.
Mister Opulent Oligarch held up a hand. “That is more than enough. No need to indulge me.”
The guards sighed in relief and took their seats. The fact he waited so long to say that probably meant he had wanted to be indulged. Or he had waited for Aisha to bow. In that case, she had held everyone up. Oops?
“Great Legislator,” the First Dunce said. “I said that is more than enough.”
“Yes. I'm afraid I must compensate for Of-Jinan, here.”
“It is quite alright.”
Sure. The look she saw him giving her definitely made it out that way.
Reluctantly, Rafiq took his seat. What Rafiq did, Zawar followed.
“I take it you are discussing the market incident?” The Last Prince asked.
Rafiq nodded. “Yes, Your Excellency.”
Aisha did not take Rafiq for being a boot licker to Lord Shiny Shoes. She knew this must have been an act to appear completely nice and respectable, a good little subordinate.
“Please,” His Excellency replied. “I am barely above you. You can ‘Of-Ghalib’ me. Heliux, you can even ‘Jalal’ me.”
“Y-your Excellency!” Rafiq gasped, probably at him throwing around Heliux's name in vain. Or the audacity of Camel Fungus asking to be addressed without honorific. Either way, it was still Rafiq's act (Aisha hoped, but could guess as much). Did His Pompousness know it was an act, or did he think it genuine?
“Regarding these . . . matters . . .” His Royal Behind stopped, obviously thinking of a way to phrase his words.
“Yes?” Rafiq poked.
“I would advise that you drop this.”
Did . . . Did Aisha hear that correctly? She refused to believe Snuff Stuff just uttered those words. Why?
Aisha blinked, deliberately. “W-what?”