Delios
Delios spent hours working with the scribes and priests administering Riadnos. The time had come for them to prepare for war. A war that would most likely involve a prolonged siege if the Assanaten truly crossed the mountains.
The palace was the beating heart of Riadnos’ economy. Here, the flow of all goods that were produced in and around the city was controlled and documented. Grain, wine, olive oil, wood, and all the other goods that filled the city’s stores were noted on clay tablets stacked in the palace’s archive.
It was here where his sister found him dictating to a junior scribe. “Have you spoken your morning prayers yet brother?” Delia asked, entering the room.
“I trust that you prayed for twice as long to make up for your tardy brother,” Delios said, looking up from the tablet in his hand.
His sister wore the simple dress of an apprentice priestess of Rehala. Her dark hair was bound back, and, as always, her face was untouched by the makeups, women of high standing liked to paint their eyes and cheeks with.
“I did,” she said, folding her hands in front of her in the manner of the priests. “That doesn’t make up for your duty to the gods.”
“I have noticed something strange,” Delios said. “It appears early in the morning many women – wives, mothers, even sisters – seem to ask the men in their life if they want breakfast.” Before his sister could respond he held up his hand. “Some are even known to wish their loved ones a good morning.” He smiled.
His sister stared coldly at him for two heartbeats before turning around. “They must have very different families. It sounds strange to me,” she said walking out the door. “I was told to help you out. If you don’t need me, I will go about my duties.”
Looking up nervously from the fresh clay tablet in his hand, the young scribe gaped at Delios.
The anax’s son rolled his eyes. “We are done here. Lay it in the sun to dry with the others.” The man bowed and Delios followed after his sister.
He wasn’t surprised that she was already walking in the right direction. “Father told you about our guests?”
“I was told that I should help you to learn as much as possible about the sage Mar’Doug and his intentions,” Delia said, before continuing in a lower voice. “I’m also to report everything that is said back to father.”
Delios smiled grimly. Despite their banter, there was nobody he was closer to than his sister. While Dorios had been out storming through the city, the two of them had grown up playing and studying together. She was the one person in the palace he trusted.
Delios looked at his sister’s profile out of the corner of his eye. At eighteen, it was high time for her to marry and start bearing children. As Memnostis’ daughter, she was a valuable bride. For the last two or three years there had been rumors about why neither she nor their father had brought up the topic yet. Only very few knew of Delia’s Gift. A tool Memnostis would very unlikely be willing to part with.
Delios sighed. Would he be the same when he became anax? If I ever become anax, he thought.
“Stop doubting yourself,” Delia said. “The greatest obstacle between you and fathers seat is that you haven’t decided yet if you want it. And stop worrying about me.”
Delios studied his sister’s profile. There was a sharp mind behind the plainness Delia intentionally adopted. I am probably the only one who knows that you have goals and desires of your own, he thought.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “If you don’t become anax, you are no good to me anyway.” She turned her head meeting his eyes. “You must decide! What you are doing right now is dangerous.”
“I thought I had. I have been working on the organization of the defense of Riadnos since we received the warning. I even called for a great council without waiting for the anax’s permission.”
“You do what you have always done. You use your talents to make yourself useful while avoiding appearing like a threat to our brother.” Walking down the street leading to the lower palace, Delia whispered sharply. “Dorios is dead. You need to step forward now and change people’s perception of you. Not just as the other son. You need to be seen as your own man.” She fell silent while a group of priests pass by.
Delios considered his sister’s words. “It is clear that you have spent more time thinking about my succession than I have.”
Delia frowned at him. “I have been thinking about your succession since father learned about my Gift.”
Delios stared at her open-mouthed.
“I told you if you don’t become anax, you are of no use to me,” she said grimly. “Or yourself. Dorios would have let you live. You were no threat to him. Somebody else will not. You are Memnostis’ blood.”
Delios nodded slowly. “I’ve not thought that far ahead.”
“Of course not. You had no reason to. I did. But now you must for both our sakes.” Delia shrugged. “We’re here.”
The siblings entered the main entrance of the house. It was the most luxurious complex of the lower palace meant to impress important guests. At times, Memnostis used it to hold gatherings, inappropriate for the higher palace that also housed the temple. Delios’ mouth twitched in distaste as he was reminded of his father’s proclivities.
“He brought me here once to one of his feasts,” Delia said. “He thought it was funny to ask me what…they were thinking and feeling. I told him.”
Delios’ eyes widened. Within the city, their father liked to have his sister with him. Delia was invaluable in audiences and negotiations. But bringing her to this?
“Did it amuse him?” he asked.
“No, he didn’t like it. I remember the smile dying on his face. He stood up and just left. There wasn’t another feat for half a year after that. And he never brought me again.”
“Good.”
They passed by a couple of servants and guards. Each and everyone was picked with the utmost care and would report anything they heard or saw. Unfortunately, with Memnostis’ return, those reports wouldn’t go to Delios anymore.
“Siria.” Delios waved to a girl, carrying a jug covered with a cloth.
“How may I serve you?” the girl asked, bowing to them.
“Where is master Mar’Doug?” Delios asked.
“The master and Atissa are in the courtyard. I’m on my way there now.”
Delios nodded in thanks, and they continued to the courtyard, Siria respectfully walking a couple of steps behind the siblings.
“Siria, what is in the jug?” Delia asked. “You are carrying it very carefully.”
“Wine, I assume,” Delios murmured, not looking back.
“No, it is boiling water,” Siria said.
“What for?” Delia asked.
“It’s for the master. He drinks it.”
“He drinks boiling water?” Delios asked.
“I don’t think so,” Siria said, carefully looking from one to the other. “He doesn’t drink it all at once. He also asked us to cover it with a cloth so dirt can’t get in.”
“Strange,” Delios said. “Wasn’t he offered wine?” Drinking water could make you sick. People that could afford it drank wine, often diluted with water.
“He was,” Siria said.
“Has he asked for other things that appeared strange?” Delia asked.
Delios considered his sister while they walked. Had her interest been peeked?
Siria did not have to think. “Oh, lots! He inspected the kitchen and told them how to clean things. He also called for the washerwomen. We must boil a lot of things for him. He was very…”, the girl thought for a heartbeat, ”…it seemed to be very important to him.”
The siblings exchanged a glance.
“Should we not have done it?” the girl asked, slightly worried. “I guess we used a lot of fuel.”
“No, you did good adhering to his wishes,” Delia said, smiling. “Master Mar’Doug is an honored guest who did our city a great service.”
“Yes!” Siria smiled broadly, feeling reassured.
Passing through the door to the courtyard they came to a sudden halt.
Master Mar’Doug was sitting on the ground. Atissa, the valley girl he had brought with him was sitting behind him, her legs wrapped around his lower body, her right arm around his neck. She looked as if she was trying to strangle him.
Mar’Doug made a gurgling sound while he tried to wedge his fingers under the girl’s arm.
“What…” Delios wanted to step forward but his sister’s hand on his forearm stopped him.
“No fear,” she said, watching the scene in front of them.
Looking closer, Delios saw it too. There was no panic or urgency in master Mar’Doug’s face or movements. He fought the hold, but he clearly didn’t use all of his strength. This was training.
Now that Delios understood what he was seeing, it became immediately apparent who was the teacher and who was the student.
Mar’Doug wriggled for another heartbeat or two before he managed to open the girl’s legs. He slid his lower body off her, changing the alignment of their bodies. Realizing that he was about to twist his head out of her hold the girl reacted immediately. She gave up on the head and switched to his right arm, swinging her left leg around and over his head.
“Good move,” Delios whispered, impressed as the short girl hugged the arm to her chest and leaned backward. Before her bodyweight broke it, master Mar’Doug tapped. Atissa let go at once.
Both sat up facing each other.
“Good transition,” master Mar’Doug said, shaking out his arm. “Did you feel how much easier it is to pull the arm with you when you use your whole body instead of just your arm’s strength?”
Atissa nodded eagerly. “Yes. It felt like I was pushing back with my legs.”
“Your legs are much stronger than your arms. If you can use them to wrestle against an opponent’s upper body, you can make up for a difference in size.” With these words he came to his feet while brushing the sand off his body.
When he turned to face the siblings, he displayed a courteous smile. “It is nice to see you. I apologize for the display. Had I known you were coming, I would have cleaned up.” He bowed slightly, dropping his eyes for a moment.
“Please,” Delios said quickly, raising his hands. “We must apologize for dropping by unannounced. It was a fascinating display. It seems different from the wrestling I learned from my father’s warriors.”
“This form of grappling favors fighting on the ground while the goal of most wrestling styles is to stay on your feet while bringing down your opponent,” the master said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “They work great together. The ability to bring somebody down and the skill to finish him on the ground. Sadly, I’m not a particularly good wrestler so Atissa will have to learn this from somebody else.”
“If you wish, I can introduce you to the senior warriors that train our men,” Delios said. “I’m sure he would be very interested in meeting you.” He was careful not to sound overeager. Engaging further with the sage around one of his interests was a great opportunity.
“Thank you.” Mar’Doug nodded, then looked over at Delia.
“Ah, master Mar’Doug”, Delios said quickly, waving his sister forward, “this is Delia, daughter of Memnostis and my sister.”
Delia bowed before the sage. “Master Mar’Doug, I want to thank you for the service you have done our city. I will pray to Rehala for your good fortune.”
Master Mar’Doug accepted her words with a slight bow. “You have more than repaid me with your hospitality. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know,” he said. “Please, direct your prayers to your people in the Half Moon Valley.”
Delios wondered again about this strange man with his impeccable manners. Going by his appearance, he wasn’t Helcenaean. With his light hair and skin, he had to be from the northern continent beyond Helcenaea. How does somebody from the far north become a sage of Nemki?
Nemki was an old god from the south. One of the oldest gods people still remembered. There were legends of him and the seven men and women he taught that were older than the oldest Helcenaean cities. Many scholars believed the seven were the first human magi. Others believed them to be immortals that still walked the world.
Watching master Mar’Doug chatting with his sister, Delios was unsure about the probability of that. Mistress Bel’Sara still looked the same as she had when he was a child, sitting at her feet. Yet master Mar’Doug couldn’t have appeared more different from her.
“I’m sorry, do you know when the group helping the refugees will leave?”
The question had come from the girl, Atissa. Delios didn’t need his sister’s Gift to see the anxiety the girl so clearly felt even if she was trying to hide it. She likely had friends and family who were with the refugees. Despite it all, it was still pretty daring of her to cut into the conversation of those so far above her station.
“You…,” he started to say.
“Your men will leave today,” Delia said, cutting him off. “We will give them additional animals and men that know the mountains.” Having known his sister for a lifetime, he wasted no time feeling offended. Instead, he looked for what she had seen.
Ah, I see, he thought, noticing Mar’Doug’s eyes moving from Atissa to Delia. The sage clearly considered her an equal participant in the conversation.
“The anax will send more men in the next couple of days,” Delios said, facing Atissa. “The mountain pass is the way the Assanaten must come if they want to attack us. These men are scouts, but they have been ordered to help if they run into refugees.”
“Hopefully, they will bring you news about what the Assanaten are up to,” Mar’Doug said in a neutral tone.
“Ah, of course,” Delios said. “We need to learn whatever we can.”
“You mentioned your father,” the sage said. “Is he back in the city?”
“He just returned last night,” Delios said quickly. “I’m sure he’ll want to meet you as soon as the organization of our defense allows for it.”
The sage responded with a courteous smile. “Of course. If I can be of help, please let me know.”
More from habit than necessity, Delios quickly glanced at his sister. True. That is interesting, he thought.
Atissa looked confused. “You said defense. What about the army?”
Delios frowned before he could stop himself. Was he going to have to explain Riadnos’ military matters to this girl?
“The warriors you have seen in the city are the anax’s household warriors,” Delia said. “In case of war, all men of fighting age are called to arms. That of course takes time.” His sister had clearly determined it best to be friendly to master Mar’Doug’s companion.
“It can also not be done lightly,” Delios said. “Farmers need to tend their fields. Craftsmen must make their goods. We do not know when the Assanaten will come.”
“So, you won’t send an army into the Half-Moon Valley?” Atissa asked.
Delios didn’t know what to say. Giving up the walls of Riadnos to counter-invade a valley with no significant value? The very idea was ridiculous. Even if the prize had been worth it, for the citizen army of Riadnos to face the thousands of professional warriors that marched for the god Assan would be suicide. They would be slaughtered in a hailstorm of arrows.
He looked from the girl to master Mar’Doug, to his sister. Careful. Yes, I know that.
“We have called for a great council. Basileis, important priests, and allies from overseas will gather in Riadnos to discuss and plan how we will deal with this threat. If we want to stand against Assan’s forces, we can only do it together.” He hoped the girl would not question his reasoning.
Atissa looked down hopelessly. But only for a moment. “I want to go with Tepras and the others,” she said, addressing master Mar’Doug.
Mar’Doug looked down at her for a moment, his face unreadable to Delios.
“That is not a good idea,” he finally said. “You’re still not completely recovered.”
“I’m fine,” Atissa said, rotating her shoulder for show. “We just trained for over an hour.”
“I think you still move a little stiff. Hiking through the mountains will be tough. We should leave this to the others.”
Lie! So, he doesn’t want her to go? Delios wondered what exactly the relationship between these two was. Was she his apprentice? A lover? According to the sage’s own words, they had only met recently. The servants had heard the same story from the girl.
“Uncle Tatros taught me to hunt in the mountains,” Atissa said, unwilling to give up. “I can scout for our group.”
She seemed to have no problem contradicting the sage. What was even stranger, he was arguing with her. Who was this girl?
Delios didn’t miss master Mar’Doug’s glance at Delia. Naturally, his sister interpreted it without delay.
“Look Atissa”, Delia said, “we’re sending scouts, warriors, and pack animals to help the refugees. You should stay here and assist master Mar’Doug. You must have much to learn from him. This is a task for strong men that can help the people over the mountains.”
Atissa’s head sank. She clearly wasn’t convinced but nor could she argue against their united front.
The sage flashed Delia a grateful look. If this was a way to earn his favor, why not double down on it?
Delios cleared his throat. “You have assisted master Mar’Doug in doing a great service to our city. Without your warning, the Assanaten might have crossed the mountains and stood in front of our walls before we had any chance to prepare.” He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I own three horses. I will lend two to the group, so they can travel faster and carry more supplies. I just ask you to stay here and continue to serve the sage.”
Atissa’s eyes had widened as he spoke. “Thank you,” she said, trying hard to look grateful. Everybody present saw that she still itched to do more.
Good.
Of all the little signs her sister used, that one sometimes felt a little condescending to him.
Suddenly, without discernible reason, Atissa glanced over her shoulder. A moment later mistress Bel’Sara’s companion appeared in the doorway across the yard.
Had Atissa heard her coming from here?
The girl, Delios could not remember if Bel’Sara had introduced her, crossed the yard, and bowed to them. Maybe it was more of a nod. Just enough to not cause offense.
“Mistress Bel’Sara would like to talk to the girl,” Bel’Sara’s companion said, using the Golden Tongue with a thick accent.
Everyone looked from her to Atissa.
“Me?” Atissa asked.
The older girl nodded.
She looked up to master Mar’Doug but he just shrugged.
Since the awkward encounter between the two sages on the previous day, Delios had speculated about the nature of their relationship. Now one sage asked to see the other’s companion without his presence.
“I will accompany you,” Delia said, smiling friendly. “Mistress Bel’Sara is my teacher. I must greet her. Of course, I will leave afterward if she wants to talk to Atissa in private.”
Bel’Sara’s companion seemed to be unsure but had to agree in the face of Delia’s proposition. The three women left Delios alone with the sage.
Delios
Delios spent hours working with the scribes and priests administering Riadnos. The time had come for them to prepare for war. A war that would most likely involve a prolonged siege if the Assanaten truly crossed the mountains.
The palace was the beating heart of Riadnos’ economy. Here, the flow of all goods that were produced in and around the city was controlled and documented. Grain, wine, olive oil, wood, and all the other goods that filled the city’s stores were noted on clay tablets stacked in the palace’s archive.
It was here where his sister found him dictating to a junior scribe. “Have you spoken your morning prayers yet brother?” Delia asked, entering the room.
“I trust that you prayed for twice as long to make up for your tardy brother,” Delios said, looking up from the tablet in his hand.
His sister wore the simple dress of an apprentice priestess of Rehala. Her dark hair was bound back, and, as always, her face was untouched by the makeups, women of high standing liked to paint their eyes and cheeks with.
“I did,” she said, folding her hands in front of her in the manner of the priests. “That doesn’t make up for your duty to the gods.”
“I have noticed something strange,” Delios said. “It appears early in the morning many women – wives, mothers, even sisters – seem to ask the men in their life if they want breakfast.” Before his sister could respond he held up his hand. “Some are even known to wish their loved ones a good morning.” He smiled.
His sister stared coldly at him for two heartbeats before turning around. “They must have very different families. It sounds strange to me,” she said walking out the door. “I was told to help you out. If you don’t need me, I will go about my duties.”
Looking up nervously from the fresh clay tablet in his hand, the young scribe gaped at Delios.
The anax’s son rolled his eyes. “We are done here. Lay it in the sun to dry with the others.” The man bowed and Delios followed after his sister.
He wasn’t surprised that she was already walking in the right direction. “Father told you about our guests?”
“I was told that I should help you to learn as much as possible about the sage Mar’Doug and his intentions,” Delia said, before continuing in a lower voice. “I’m also to report everything that is said back to father.”
Delios smiled grimly. Despite their banter, there was nobody he was closer to than his sister. While Dorios had been out storming through the city, the two of them had grown up playing and studying together. She was the one person in the palace he trusted.
Delios looked at his sister’s profile out of the corner of his eye. At eighteen, it was high time for her to marry and start bearing children. As Memnostis’ daughter, she was a valuable bride. For the last two or three years there had been rumors about why neither she nor their father had brought up the topic yet. Only very few knew of Delia’s Gift. A tool Memnostis would very unlikely be willing to part with.
Delios sighed. Would he be the same when he became anax? If I ever become anax, he thought.
“Stop doubting yourself,” Delia said. “The greatest obstacle between you and fathers seat is that you haven’t decided yet if you want it. And stop worrying about me.”
Delios studied his sister’s profile. There was a sharp mind behind the plainness Delia intentionally adopted. I am probably the only one who knows that you have goals and desires of your own, he thought.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “If you don’t become anax, you are no good to me anyway.” She turned her head meeting his eyes. “You must decide! What you are doing right now is dangerous.”
“I thought I had. I have been working on the organization of the defense of Riadnos since we received the warning. I even called for a great council without waiting for the anax’s permission.”
“You do what you have always done. You use your talents to make yourself useful while avoiding appearing like a threat to our brother.” Walking down the street leading to the lower palace, Delia whispered sharply. “Dorios is dead. You need to step forward now and change people’s perception of you. Not just as the other son. You need to be seen as your own man.” She fell silent while a group of priests pass by.
Delios considered his sister’s words. “It is clear that you have spent more time thinking about my succession than I have.”
Delia frowned at him. “I have been thinking about your succession since father learned about my Gift.”
Delios stared at her open-mouthed.
“I told you if you don’t become anax, you are of no use to me,” she said grimly. “Or yourself. Dorios would have let you live. You were no threat to him. Somebody else will not. You are Memnostis’ blood.”
Delios nodded slowly. “I’ve not thought that far ahead.”
“Of course not. You had no reason to. I did. But now you must for both our sakes.” Delia shrugged. “We’re here.”
The siblings entered the main entrance of the house. It was the most luxurious complex of the lower palace meant to impress important guests. At times, Memnostis used it to hold gatherings, inappropriate for the higher palace that also housed the temple. Delios’ mouth twitched in distaste as he was reminded of his father’s proclivities.
“He brought me here once to one of his feasts,” Delia said. “He thought it was funny to ask me what…they were thinking and feeling. I told him.”
Delios’ eyes widened. Within the city, their father liked to have his sister with him. Delia was invaluable in audiences and negotiations. But bringing her to this?
“Did it amuse him?” he asked.
“No, he didn’t like it. I remember the smile dying on his face. He stood up and just left. There wasn’t another feat for half a year after that. And he never brought me again.”
“Good.”
They passed by a couple of servants and guards. Each and everyone was picked with the utmost care and would report anything they heard or saw. Unfortunately, with Memnostis’ return, those reports wouldn’t go to Delios anymore.
“Siria.” Delios waved to a girl, carrying a jug covered with a cloth.
“How may I serve you?” the girl asked, bowing to them.
“Where is master Mar’Doug?” Delios asked.
“The master and Atissa are in the courtyard. I’m on my way there now.”
Delios nodded in thanks, and they continued to the courtyard, Siria respectfully walking a couple of steps behind the siblings.
“Siria, what is in the jug?” Delia asked. “You are carrying it very carefully.”
“Wine, I assume,” Delios murmured, not looking back.
“No, it is boiling water,” Siria said.
“What for?” Delia asked.
“It’s for the master. He drinks it.”
“He drinks boiling water?” Delios asked.
“I don’t think so,” Siria said, carefully looking from one to the other. “He doesn’t drink it all at once. He also asked us to cover it with a cloth so dirt can’t get in.”
“Strange,” Delios said. “Wasn’t he offered wine?” Drinking water could make you sick. People that could afford it drank wine, often diluted with water.
“He was,” Siria said.
“Has he asked for other things that appeared strange?” Delia asked.
Delios considered his sister while they walked. Had her interest been peeked?
Siria did not have to think. “Oh, lots! He inspected the kitchen and told them how to clean things. He also called for the washerwomen. We must boil a lot of things for him. He was very…”, the girl thought for a heartbeat, ”…it seemed to be very important to him.”
The siblings exchanged a glance.
“Should we not have done it?” the girl asked, slightly worried. “I guess we used a lot of fuel.”
“No, you did good adhering to his wishes,” Delia said, smiling. “Master Mar’Doug is an honored guest who did our city a great service.”
“Yes!” Siria smiled broadly, feeling reassured.
Passing through the door to the courtyard they came to a sudden halt.
Master Mar’Doug was sitting on the ground. Atissa, the valley girl he had brought with him was sitting behind him, her legs wrapped around his lower body, her right arm around his neck. She looked as if she was trying to strangle him.
Mar’Doug made a gurgling sound while he tried to wedge his fingers under the girl’s arm.
“What…” Delios wanted to step forward but his sister’s hand on his forearm stopped him.
“No fear,” she said, watching the scene in front of them.
Looking closer, Delios saw it too. There was no panic or urgency in master Mar’Doug’s face or movements. He fought the hold, but he clearly didn’t use all of his strength. This was training.
Now that Delios understood what he was seeing, it became immediately apparent who was the teacher and who was the student.
Mar’Doug wriggled for another heartbeat or two before he managed to open the girl’s legs. He slid his lower body off her, changing the alignment of their bodies. Realizing that he was about to twist his head out of her hold the girl reacted immediately. She gave up on the head and switched to his right arm, swinging her left leg around and over his head.
“Good move,” Delios whispered, impressed as the short girl hugged the arm to her chest and leaned backward. Before her bodyweight broke it, master Mar’Doug tapped. Atissa let go at once.
Both sat up facing each other.
“Good transition,” master Mar’Doug said, shaking out his arm. “Did you feel how much easier it is to pull the arm with you when you use your whole body instead of just your arm’s strength?”
Atissa nodded eagerly. “Yes. It felt like I was pushing back with my legs.”
“Your legs are much stronger than your arms. If you can use them to wrestle against an opponent’s upper body, you can make up for a difference in size.” With these words he came to his feet while brushing the sand off his body.
When he turned to face the siblings, he displayed a courteous smile. “It is nice to see you. I apologize for the display. Had I known you were coming, I would have cleaned up.” He bowed slightly, dropping his eyes for a moment.
“Please,” Delios said quickly, raising his hands. “We must apologize for dropping by unannounced. It was a fascinating display. It seems different from the wrestling I learned from my father’s warriors.”
“This form of grappling favors fighting on the ground while the goal of most wrestling styles is to stay on your feet while bringing down your opponent,” the master said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “They work great together. The ability to bring somebody down and the skill to finish him on the ground. Sadly, I’m not a particularly good wrestler so Atissa will have to learn this from somebody else.”
“If you wish, I can introduce you to the senior warriors that train our men,” Delios said. “I’m sure he would be very interested in meeting you.” He was careful not to sound overeager. Engaging further with the sage around one of his interests was a great opportunity.
“Thank you.” Mar’Doug nodded, then looked over at Delia.
“Ah, master Mar’Doug”, Delios said quickly, waving his sister forward, “this is Delia, daughter of Memnostis and my sister.”
Delia bowed before the sage. “Master Mar’Doug, I want to thank you for the service you have done our city. I will pray to Rehala for your good fortune.”
Master Mar’Doug accepted her words with a slight bow. “You have more than repaid me with your hospitality. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know,” he said. “Please, direct your prayers to your people in the Half Moon Valley.”
Delios wondered again about this strange man with his impeccable manners. Going by his appearance, he wasn’t Helcenaean. With his light hair and skin, he had to be from the northern continent beyond Helcenaea. How does somebody from the far north become a sage of Nemki?
Nemki was an old god from the south. One of the oldest gods people still remembered. There were legends of him and the seven men and women he taught that were older than the oldest Helcenaean cities. Many scholars believed the seven were the first human magi. Others believed them to be immortals that still walked the world.
Watching master Mar’Doug chatting with his sister, Delios was unsure about the probability of that. Mistress Bel’Sara still looked the same as she had when he was a child, sitting at her feet. Yet master Mar’Doug couldn’t have appeared more different from her.
“I’m sorry, do you know when the group helping the refugees will leave?”
The question had come from the girl, Atissa. Delios didn’t need his sister’s Gift to see the anxiety the girl so clearly felt even if she was trying to hide it. She likely had friends and family who were with the refugees. Despite it all, it was still pretty daring of her to cut into the conversation of those so far above her station.
“You…,” he started to say.
“Your men will leave today,” Delia said, cutting him off. “We will give them additional animals and men that know the mountains.” Having known his sister for a lifetime, he wasted no time feeling offended. Instead, he looked for what she had seen.
Ah, I see, he thought, noticing Mar’Doug’s eyes moving from Atissa to Delia. The sage clearly considered her an equal participant in the conversation.
“The anax will send more men in the next couple of days,” Delios said, facing Atissa. “The mountain pass is the way the Assanaten must come if they want to attack us. These men are scouts, but they have been ordered to help if they run into refugees.”
“Hopefully, they will bring you news about what the Assanaten are up to,” Mar’Doug said in a neutral tone.
“Ah, of course,” Delios said. “We need to learn whatever we can.”
“You mentioned your father,” the sage said. “Is he back in the city?”
“He just returned last night,” Delios said quickly. “I’m sure he’ll want to meet you as soon as the organization of our defense allows for it.”
The sage responded with a courteous smile. “Of course. If I can be of help, please let me know.”
More from habit than necessity, Delios quickly glanced at his sister. True. That is interesting, he thought.
Atissa looked confused. “You said defense. What about the army?”
Delios frowned before he could stop himself. Was he going to have to explain Riadnos’ military matters to this girl?
“The warriors you have seen in the city are the anax’s household warriors,” Delia said. “In case of war, all men of fighting age are called to arms. That of course takes time.” His sister had clearly determined it best to be friendly to master Mar’Doug’s companion.
“It can also not be done lightly,” Delios said. “Farmers need to tend their fields. Craftsmen must make their goods. We do not know when the Assanaten will come.”
“So, you won’t send an army into the Half-Moon Valley?” Atissa asked.
Delios didn’t know what to say. Giving up the walls of Riadnos to counter-invade a valley with no significant value? The very idea was ridiculous. Even if the prize had been worth it, for the citizen army of Riadnos to face the thousands of professional warriors that marched for the god Assan would be suicide. They would be slaughtered in a hailstorm of arrows.
He looked from the girl to master Mar’Doug, to his sister. Careful. Yes, I know that.
“We have called for a great council. Basileis, important priests, and allies from overseas will gather in Riadnos to discuss and plan how we will deal with this threat. If we want to stand against Assan’s forces, we can only do it together.” He hoped the girl would not question his reasoning.
Atissa looked down hopelessly. But only for a moment. “I want to go with Tepras and the others,” she said, addressing master Mar’Doug.
Mar’Doug looked down at her for a moment, his face unreadable to Delios.
“That is not a good idea,” he finally said. “You’re still not completely recovered.”
“I’m fine,” Atissa said, rotating her shoulder for show. “We just trained for over an hour.”
“I think you still move a little stiff. Hiking through the mountains will be tough. We should leave this to the others.”
Lie! So, he doesn’t want her to go? Delios wondered what exactly the relationship between these two was. Was she his apprentice? A lover? According to the sage’s own words, they had only met recently. The servants had heard the same story from the girl.
“Uncle Tatros taught me to hunt in the mountains,” Atissa said, unwilling to give up. “I can scout for our group.”
She seemed to have no problem contradicting the sage. What was even stranger, he was arguing with her. Who was this girl?
Delios didn’t miss master Mar’Doug’s glance at Delia. Naturally, his sister interpreted it without delay.
“Look Atissa”, Delia said, “we’re sending scouts, warriors, and pack animals to help the refugees. You should stay here and assist master Mar’Doug. You must have much to learn from him. This is a task for strong men that can help the people over the mountains.”
Atissa’s head sank. She clearly wasn’t convinced but nor could she argue against their united front.
The sage flashed Delia a grateful look. If this was a way to earn his favor, why not double down on it?
Delios cleared his throat. “You have assisted master Mar’Doug in doing a great service to our city. Without your warning, the Assanaten might have crossed the mountains and stood in front of our walls before we had any chance to prepare.” He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I own three horses. I will lend two to the group, so they can travel faster and carry more supplies. I just ask you to stay here and continue to serve the sage.”
Atissa’s eyes had widened as he spoke. “Thank you,” she said, trying hard to look grateful. Everybody present saw that she still itched to do more.
Good.
Of all the little signs her sister used, that one sometimes felt a little condescending to him.
Suddenly, without discernible reason, Atissa glanced over her shoulder. A moment later mistress Bel’Sara’s companion appeared in the doorway across the yard.
Had Atissa heard her coming from here?
The girl, Delios could not remember if Bel’Sara had introduced her, crossed the yard, and bowed to them. Maybe it was more of a nod. Just enough to not cause offense.
“Mistress Bel’Sara would like to talk to the girl,” Bel’Sara’s companion said, using the Golden Tongue with a thick accent.
Everyone looked from her to Atissa.
“Me?” Atissa asked.
The older girl nodded.
She looked up to master Mar’Doug but he just shrugged.
Since the awkward encounter between the two sages on the previous day, Delios had speculated about the nature of their relationship. Now one sage asked to see the other’s companion without his presence.
“I will accompany you,” Delia said, smiling friendly. “Mistress Bel’Sara is my teacher. I must greet her. Of course, I will leave afterward if she wants to talk to Atissa in private.”
Bel’Sara’s companion seemed to be unsure but had to agree in the face of Delia’s proposition. The three women left Delios alone with the sage.
