Page 20 of Beyond

Isla’s eyes shone with her smile. “All that brilliance and a new foal, too. I’m so relieved that you’re in on it now. Now that you know the general direction and the pace of things, we can include you more when the times come. But first, we need to establish one particular Gate. Kordas plans to ask you to help do that.”

Being stunned by something her sister said was getting to be the norm today. It took her more than a moment or two to gather her thoughts. “But I’m not a mage!” she protested.

“But you have a powerful and precise Fetching Gift,” said Isla. “Jonaton intends to establish a small Portal. It may not be safe enough to reach through with tongs, even, so Kordas wants you to Fetch something small, like a stone or a bit of earth, to serve as the anchor on this side. Then he wants you to send something from here to there to establish the anchor on the other side. When that’s done, an actual Gate can be built. Just a tiny one. Small, shieldable.”

Delia knew for a fact that Kordas had been out all day, so the only way that Isla could know this was by Mindspeaking with him. I guess that’s actually the safest way for them to discuss this, she thought numbly. But—

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she admitted, licking her lips nervously. “I’ve never Fetched anything further away than a few leagues.”

“But you don’t know that you can’t,” her sister pointed out. “We are all going to have to do things we are not certain we can. You won’t be the only one. But there is one thing I do know for certain. If we don’t try, all that is going to happen is that we are going to sit here in this Duchy, doing needlework and raising farm stock, waiting for the Emperor, or someone, to move on us. I’ve lived like that all my life, and I can’t do that anymore. More to the point, I’m not going to have that for my boys.” She lifted her head, and her eyes flashed with determination. “I would rather they wore skins and ate half-raw meat around a fire than sit here tamely, like a lot of Squire Lesley’s pigs, waiting to be surprised by the butcher!”

Slowly, Delia nodded, setting her mind to accept her exciting new ‘need to know.’ “All right, then,” she said. “You can tell Kordas that I’m here to help.”

Isla just smiled, as if she could not have imagined Delia saying anything else. “Then let’s gather some herbs to make good on our deception, and get back. We’ll talk more about this tonight.”

ust in case Imperial magicians had been looking for unusual bursts of power in unexpected places within the Empire, Kordas instructed Jonaton to gather his strength and whatever resources he needed, and put off the next stage in the Gate-making magics for a few days. Jonaton protested, but admitted he did have fabrication to work on that wasn’t too physically demanding “for now.” For Jonaton, whose dedication to magic as both art and science could manically consume him, that was a very good compromise.

During those days, Kordas went on his usual rambles, maintaining the outward appearance of the doting Duke of a drowsy Duchy.

Fortunately I’m mind-shielded enough out here that my deeper thoughts can’t be read by friend or foe, Kordas mused as his horse clopped along in no particular hurry. I don’t come across as a second-generation insurrectionist espionage-embezzling thief at all.

Kordas had been through the “proper education” for a child of royalty, in the military compound—school, rather—that indoctrinated all noble children. Unlike most who entered there, and far fewer who left there, Kordas knew what he was made of. He didn’t embrace deceit nearly as much as he knew how to steer conversations so there was no definitive answer given. That skill came to him early at the school, where inevitably—possibly in preparation for their later intrigues as adults—bullies ganged up, split, or formed factions to overwhelm the lesser children. Kordas rode the edge between submission and distraction, honing the ways of deflection and adaptation by the moment. His cleverness did not really come into its own until strategy games entered the curriculum.

There were three, and only three, games taught at that school. All were board games, with no variant rules. One, Faire Trade, was an economic resource-management game with very strict rules about how goods were presented, tracked, bartered for, and taxes deducted. The second was simply called Imperial Power, and while its board was not a representation of the actual Empire, Kordas immediately noticed that the game’s terrain replicated key parts of the actual Empire’s geography, cleverly rearranged. Imperial Power was an outright war game, and its players were to swap resources, build supply lines, make assaults into weaker territory, or lure opponents into unwinnable overextension. The third game, Winding Web, was utterly abstract, using colored marbles and alteration cards to surround and flip the colors of other players’ marbles and pile them in the center of the spiral, until the winner’s tray was emptied. Its players were encouraged to be as hurtful, intimidating, and double-dealing as they could manage, swapping cards and sabotaging others’ plays, strictly by the rules.

Kordas realized that these were not solely the games they were presented as, as much as they were personality tests. Senior students, who had played the games for a considerable time, wound up divided into different educational tracks, and matched against tougher and tougher opponents. Kordas connected the types of bullying and maneuvering his early classmates engaged in as corresponding to the three games. He deduced that the three games trained specific rigors of thought; that meant that if Kordas knew what game the students were best at, he could predict their behavior as people.

He resolved to come across as good at none of the three games, and instead spend his time watching the players. He had embraced the Fourth Game, and nobody was the wiser.

If I appear weak enough, I can lead aggressors wherever I want them to be. If I am assertive but strange, others will have pause. If I seem stable but harmless, I am put in the “safe” category, and barely thought of again. If I seem motionless, I am only the background that action-seekers exert themselves in front of, and will be ignored. And, if I bore everyone, I become invisible.

The future Duke of Valdemar left the Imperial school with a deeper awareness of how Imperial Doctrine slithered and struck on the board of the Empire than many of the Empire’s senior nobles had after years in office.

Nobody in the high ranks sees anyone as a person—instead, as they have been taught, they are game pieces to be moved around, traded, and expended against each other. Martial, economic, and psychological domination are their only three games. I learned the three games as well as the school’s brightest—but I only ever played as below average for them.

The Fourth Game is the show.

His horse knew the way, so he simply closed his eyes for a while. He took in the scents—elderflower, purpleroot pine, the buttery undertone of sweet-hay, the sour-sweet tang of lemontail—as the wind picked up. He leaned back in his saddle, letting the reins rest upon the saddlehorn, and let his arms hang away from his torso until he felt the first light droplets of rain.

I will miss this place. I have so many big speeches planned about how we the people are Valdemar, but just the same—this place. These flavors, these scents, the sound of these birds, and the wind in these trees. I will miss this so very much.

Kordas let the light, warm rain wash his face, which was just as well. With those thoughts, the Duke of Valdemar’s face would have been wet anyway.

* * *

His ramblings “just happened” to coincide with visits to the people in his Duchy he trusted most. These were the Duchy’s eight Counts and their worthiest subordinates, people who had already been brought into confidence by his father, so the only actual secret they learned was that the Plan’s candles were lit, and it was a vital step closer to fruition. Each of them had entrusted children or other relatives, as well as trained experts, with their own specialized duties in the Plan’s execution. They would be sent across as soon as the Foothold Gate was built, to scout for dangers—and hopefully eliminate them—and prepare the settlement base for what was to come.

One of them, Count Endicrag of Endicrag Manor, had two things they were going to need desperately. One was a cousin, a Healer named Alberdina, who was willing to go in the first wave. The other was of even more immediate help. Lord Endicrag’s sixth out of ten sons was everything Kordas could have wanted for his explorer-through-the-Gate: tough, strong, smart, and with a seriously itchy foot, just a little older than Kordas, an able fighter, and a trained woodsman. He was actually back from a foray into the mysterious North. Not for anyone; he’d gone on his own, to see what was there. When Kordas explained the situation to him, the man immediately wanted to be the first person to go through the Foothold Gate, explore, and find a suitable place for a water-Gate.

“I’ve longed my entire life for a chance like this,” said Ivar Endicrag, actually rubbing his hands together with glee. “I’ve dreamed of it, actually. I’ve made lists of what to stock for each foray I make. I want one of your Chargers, a trained one that can handle rough terrain. A Charger is a force-multiplier, turning me into a squad of people without actually having to have a squad of people, and if my understanding is correct, they ‘stand watch’ at night?”

“More or less. A horse’s senses are keener than a human’s, and Chargers rarely sleep deeply,” Kordas replied slowly. “If I were you, I’d take—”

“A dog, too? I have one. Got him before that last trip. He’s a good boy.” Ivar chuckled. “When can I start training with the horse?”

“Now,” Kordas told him, hardly able to believe his luck; he didn’t expect Ivar to be so prepared. “In fact, pack your things, come back with me, and move into the manor. It’s not as if we don’t have room! And since you and your dog will be training with one of my Chargers, it won’t seem out of place.”

Ivar didn’t wait for a second invitation; he sprinted out of the room like it was on fire.