HGG Community Forums

"Longer the better."

*cracks knuckles*

I got this. (assuming I get a lunch break tomorrow, at least.)

Ha, I did *not* get to take my lunch break. So this may be too late. But it's written, and I had fun writing it. So I'm posting it anyway. In multiple pieces.

Part 2 of 4



Quinalaos stumbled forward. That was no nudge this time. That was someone shoving. And hard. Which meant that was no street performer trying to glamour the crowd. That was a full on magic user, deliberately doing…well, what, he wasn’t quite certain. He had set up his wards just to let him know if anyone got too close to them, but he hadn’t actually expected to need them. Not making that mistake again in a hurry. Wasn’t he just warning his Askis heads about the possibility of Sarbanis sneaking agents across the river?

Charging for the door, Quinalaos shouted over his shoulder. “Out the back! Don’t do anything, just block the street. I want to know who’s casting magic like!”

The sun dazzled him as he shoved his way through the alehouse’s doorway. The heavy cloth that closed the and helped keep out the sand had given the tavern a gloomy darkness. Good for unnoticed conversations in dark corners. Bad for running out into sunlight. So he stood there in the middle of the street, blinking, trying to comprehend what he saw.

There was no street performer. There was no Saraki master mage. There wasn’t even a Yan shaman or a ship’s windcaster drinking off his month’s pay. There were…kids? Brawling in the street. It looked like three teenagers trying – and failing – to land blows on another boy. They were grouped around him a loose circle. Two additional fighters were already down, one clutching an arm and shouting obscenities. Quinalaos couldn’t tell if he was shouting encouragement to his companions or just shouting at their opponent. As Quinalaos watched, the boy in the center dodged a clumsy charge by the largest of his opponents and then pushed.

Pushed at empty air. Quinalaos felt his wards rumble in his ear.

The would-be tackler continued further, tripping over his feet. Despite his apparent attempts to slow himself, he slammed headfirst into the mud walled building on the other side of the street, and slumped down to the ground. As he turned away, the boy’s eyes locked with Quinalaos’s. He threw a furtive glance over his shoulder. Irita and Tamas were on the far end of the brawl, Quinalaos saw. Irita was blending into small clump of people, but Tamas’s stood in the middle of the street with his sword drawn. Even though most people wouldn’t recognize the green cloak he wore as one of the more obscure titles a Mage of the Valley could earn, his short straight sword identified him as a mage as well as the traditional black cloaks would have done. The kid turned to look at Quinalaos again, and this time, Quinalaos saw that a grim determination had come to the boy’s face. He knew he’d been found. Before he could do anything with that realization, however, another of his attackers was on him. After a scuffle with both of them wildly throwing blows, they pulled apart again. The kid in the center now had an eye that was rapidly swelling, but the other boy’s nose was gushing blood. The boy looked back at Tamas again. Turning slightly so he could both the two boys that were still standing, the black-haired boy reached out and pushed.

Hard.

Quinalaos, hit by both the blast of magic and the pressure on his wards warning of magic – bit wasted now – stumbled backwards before he caught himself. He was dimly aware of the other crowd members and the fighting boys being thrown back a good dozen feet. But he kept his eyes on the now fleeing back of the black haired boy and took off after him. Qinalaos was taller and stronger, but the kid knew where he was going and had the advantage of about twenty fewer years. Quinalas charged after him, shouting at the crowded streets to let him pass. He almost – almost – lost him when the kid ducked down an alley so narrow that Quinalaos hadn’t even seen it before. A wall as tall as a man blocked the far end, and Qinalaos could hear the bustle of the bazaar from the other side. If the kid made it into the mess, good look catching him. He strongly suspected the kid knew how to jump up the wall. If he had ever been able to do it, Quinalaos knew he certrainly wouldn’t be able to do that now. He put on a last burst of speed, and just managed to grab the kid’s shirt trail as he scaled the wall.

Quinalaos pulled the fleeing boy off the wall. In doing so, he accidentally flung him into a pile of manure that had accumulated in the alley. He wasn’t terribly sorry. He didn’t have to do that, but the kid didn’t have to run, either. Quinalaos stepped on the boy’s back, pushing him down until the kid stopped struggling. Once the kid sighed and stopped fighting, he helped him up.

Part 4 of 4

Quinalaos made to follow him. “He’ll come back,” the Sarakina said. “You have my word on that. He is a good boy. He just gets…bored.”

Quinalaos glanced up the stairs, then decided to trust her. He had learned to rely on his instincts since his own graduation from the Valley. He needed to talk with her.

“How long have you known?”

“About the magic? I don’t remember not knowing. He was drawing things to him and making things fly before he could walk. The odds were in his favor, anyway. His father was…very powerful. And his mother had her own magic.”

“We have laws against things like that here.”

The Sarakina snorted in laughter. “Please! What are you going to do to me? Everything I have had, has already been taken from me. All this,” she said, making a gesture with her hands that took in the brothel room with its stage, the stairs to the private rooms, and her own, carefully calculated presentation, “all this was for his sake. If it was just me, I would have gladly moved in with some lonely noble. But lords don’t like their mistresses showing up with their little brothers at heel.” She looked him in the eye. “There is nothing you can do to me, that will hurt more than losing him.”

Quinalaos understood, in a way. His own mother hadn’t fought to keep him from the Valley, but he had been the fourth of sixth children with another on the way. Professor Tateh, who had been his parent’s only child when he left for the University, had once told him that his mother had hidden him in the thatch of the roof when the school recruiters had come looking for him. ‘Well, don’t do it again.”

“I only have the one brother. It’s just us.”

“Brother?”

“Half-brother.” She said it somewhat defensively, as if daring him to say something. Quinalaos gathered that this was a conversation path she’d been down many times before. He didn’t really care. He just had to make sure of something.

“I’m only asking this because of the…unpleasantness with Sarak lately. They accuse us of stealing kids, we accuse them of it….He is Rakene, right?”

The Sarakina looked defiantly at him. “We are both Rakene now,” she said. “There is nothing left for us in Sarak. No one will come looking for him, if that’s your fear.”

“So you two shared the same…”

“Father. He was a minor noble of the old court of the Sarak. My mother was a courtesan. His mother was some Rakian. Not enough magic for your fancy school, just enough to be lucky at cards, good with glamour, things like that.”

Quinalaos nodded, glad for some luck. While Rakian parentage traced through father’s side regardless of circumstance, in the case of split families, Saraki children belonged to the mother and her family. Even if Nessy had been born in Sarak, they could hardly object to him attending the University in his mother’s homeland.

“Does he half to leaf now? You’re not one of the mage hunters.”

“He’s too old. He’ll already be behind. If we wait until next summer, he’ll be even further behind. And if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t trust you that far. You did successfully hide him for what? Four years past when he should have been sent to us? I was going to be leaving for the Valley tomorrow anyway. I’ll take him myself. Make sure he gets there okay.”

As he finished the last part, Quinalaos wondered why he had said that. He really didn’t care if the Sarakina felt reassured, and he certainly wasn’t feeling sorry for the boy that had led him on that case. But any further conversation was ended by Nessy’s return. He had a small bundle tucked under his arm and had changed into a non-manure covered shirt.

Quinalaos turned for the door. Behind him, he heard Nessy hug his sister one last time before leaving. She had knelt down again and Nessy looked to be on the verge of tears again, and he stared at the ground, trying to hide it. She held his face, making him look up at her.

“Listen to me, Nessy. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. Be glad for the time we had. But now you have something new! Make me proud. Watch. Listen. Learn everything you can. And always be honest.” With that, she hugged him one last time, and sent him after Quinalaos.

The mage and the boy trudged down the street. His horse was still at the tavern where he had left Irita and Tamas. He wondered if he should find a pony or a donkey for the boy to ride. Was it too far to the Valley for them to ride double? He looked down at the kid. He had a serious face on, trying to be brave for his sister.

“Nessy, huh? That doesn’t sound Saraki. Nickname?”

“Yeah. Sara said my name was unlucky in Sarak.”

“What’s it short for?”

“Soliminis. But she says I shouldn’t say it that way here, because the letters are different. It’s really Solemines.”