Maker of Fire

General Bobbo, Is'syal

Bobbo arrived in Is'syal to discover the city talking about the Coyn blessed by Tiki and what it could mean. Despite this, no one knew for sure where this Coyn could be. Some even doubted that there was a blessed Coyn; that it was a trick for the Shrine of Tiki to get more resources out of the kingdom. A vocal minority, including the King's uncles, remarked they would never get down on their knees to a Coyn, no matter how blessed she might be.

The Queen was not at the palace nor did she tell anyone where she was going, which was typical of the woman. She had gone her own way since the last big fight she had with Imstay, about 10 years ago. She could be anywhere.

After wandering about the palace talking with people, he left on foot for his own home. His house wasn't large since it was just him, his cook, his house cleaner, and two Coyn for errands and grounds keeping. Halfway home, he noticed someone was following him. He detoured to the eastside market and ducked into a butcher's shop.

He flipped the counter clerk a silver, "show me the back door." In seconds, he was in an alley and running in the opposite direction of his house. Coming out on a side street, he stepped into a tea shop, sat down, and had a leisurely cup of tea. He pondered who could have set a tail on him. The Queen? She had a small number of agents, all of whom were quite talented at not getting caught. The King? The King had many agents he could use, but why? Did Imstay think he was working for the Queen or a rival family?

Bobbo didn't have a lot of magic, but he was talented with mid- to near-field clairvoyance at the expense of most other magics. He could make a light and cast the charm of warmth, but other than those three things, his magic was not really useful. It was why he worked so hard to educate himself. What he lacked in magic, he made up for in intelligence. He was not born into a noble family; he had worked his way up through the ranks through hard work and a bit of luck.

He extended his vision and hearing to scout the area around the tea shop. His tail was either gone or had good enough magic to conceal himself. Bobbo walked home by a winding route.

Once home, his house cleaner helped him with dyeing his brown and white hair black. He then dressed in a tunic and trews that had seen better days. Leaving by the delivery door, he made his way to the Big Fish, a tavern where information was bought and sold. He waited across the street until he could tag along with a group entering the tavern. Then he walked to the counter in the back and signaled the barkeep.

He slid a small box on the counter, "this is for the lady of the house." The barkeep put a mug of the house beer in front of him and walked through a door to the back end of the tavern. Bobbo finished the beer, put a silver under the mug, and left. Once he was safely home, he washed the dye out of his hair, though the rinse that removed it was nasty. His scalp would be red with irritation for several days.

The next morning, a wagon hauling beer pulled up to Bobbo's delivery gate. The driver tried to give the firkin to the Coyn working in the yard. The Coyn protested, rightfully pointing out he couldn't even lift it and told the driver to quit being lazy and take it inside. The driver did so but slapped the Coyn on the face twice before leaving. The Coyn dropped and the driver left.

The cook came running out after watching the incident through the kitchen window. "Gily?" she shook the Coyn's shoulder. Then she swore and carried him inside. Once inside, she put him back on his feet.

"Good show there, Gily," the cook said to the completely conscious Coyn. "I know it's fake but I can't help but think it's real, you fall down so well."

"Well, it does sting a bit," Gily replied, rolling his jaw around to check for soreness.

"Got some ice in the icebox if you need it," the cook picked up the firkin like it was nothing. "I just need to take this upstairs to the master."

With the firkin safely delivered to his study, Bobbo lifted the fake end piece and removed two pages of parchment. He sat down in his favorite chair to review all the Queen's movements since the princess and prince were lost in a snow storm.

Based on the Queen's movements, it was more than certain that the maker of fire, now known as the Blessed Emily, was staying at the Healing Shrine of Mugash. As he pondered his next move, an errant thought interrupted him: Emily was a very strange name. It didn't sound like a Fosk name at all. He wondered where it came from.

----

Usruldes the Wraith, Is'syal

I wasn't surprised that General Bobbo picked up on my following him. I had my street face on, in my guise as a royal courier, walking behind him at a distance of about 200 paces. If he spotted me as the person "following" him, I would just be his neighbor four doors down from where he lived on Brewers' Row walking home after a day's work at the palace.

No, he didn't spot me behind him. He went into stealth mode immediately and ducked into the misnamed eastside market, which was on the west side of the palace. Hundreds of years ago, it was on the east edge of the residential neighborhoods and has since kept its name despite its location now on the west side of the city.

The General vanished into a butcher's shop and slipped out the back door. I followed him with my clairvoyance, which doesn't require a line-of-sight like most mages. My clairvoyance is probably the second or third best in the kingdom, though all the other top clairvoyants have no idea I even exist. The trick of not needing a direct line-of-sight without a shrine-grade major crystal is something I learned from my teacher. She lived underneath a swamp many wagon-days away to the west of Foskos and wasn't even human. My magic was like my teacher: not even human.

My clairvoyance was why I was a spy's spy. I meandered home to my wonderful family, even picking up some flowers for my lovely and understanding wife, all while following Bobbo in my mind as he stopped at a tea shop and then took an indirect route home.

The general greatly amused me. He disguised himself, and did quite a good job too, and then visited a bar known for buying and selling information. It was one of my operations. I saw nothing wrong with his request for an accounting of the Queen's movements over the last year. The information on the Queen's location as well as that of the maker of fire would make both his life and mine a little easier. I took a stroll after dinner and left instructions for my employees at the bar to provide Bobbo with a complete dossier on the Queen and her movements.

I suppose I could have made Imstay's life easier by revealing that I already knew the detailed movements of the maker of fire. I didn't because he delegated the task to his scouts, which I considered a bunch of bumbling bullies. I think I was a little reluctant too. Something in me wanted that little Coyn to escape Imstay's grasp. I loved Imstay. He was the saving of me but he wasn't easy on the Coyn he owned. The maker of fire was so smart and so hard-working and so pathetic. I wanted those kind people at the Shrine of Mugash to keep her safe and far away from Imstay's less than admirable attitude toward Coyn.

I already had an agent employed in the Shrine of Mugash's garden and one in the kitchen. I also had six agents in a well-heeled house on the west side of Aybhas to keep track of comings and goings at the shrine, mostly through remote-viewing clairvoyance.

I was tempted to travel to Aybhas to observe Bobbo's visit though it presented some danger. The Holy Lisaykos and the Queen were powerful enough to potentially detect me even with my forbidden and unorthodox charms. I would have to decide tonight if I wanted to be onsite before Bobbo arrived.

----

Lisaykos, Healing Shrine of Mugash

General Bobbo entered the shrine through the front entrance. He was considerate of the people in line by not cutting it. He was patient with the delay as the line moved slowly. He was humble and polite when asking to speak with me. I know all this since I was watching him from the second-floor walkway in the Atrium. He didn't put a foot out of place.

I've never been quite sure whether Bobbo is a good guy who is really a bad guy at heart, or a bad guy who really is a good guy at heart. Everything about him is deliberate, almost as if he practiced his demeanor in a mirror. It always left me wondering what was underneath his facade.

A runner from the entry desk caught up to me as I was returning to my study. I gave instructions for Bobbo and his mount, Niefl'flaf, to use the south balcony on the fourth floor. I was seated and working at my table when he knocked on the door jam of my open door. When I looked up, he knelt and saluted me: "May the blessing of the gods be upon you, Holy One."

"And also upon you. Please get up and come in, General." I decided to cut straight to the point. "If you're looking for the Blessed Emily, she not here." I even smiled, to see if I could rattle him.

He didn't miss a beat: "That's a shame. When will she be here so I may speak with her?"

"Probably in the late afternoon, when she and the Queen are done with their errands. Alternatively, you could come tomorrow."

"I'll take my chances on this afternoon," he bowed and turned to go when something caught his eye. He stepped over to Wolkayrs' work table and examined the manuscript for Emily's revelation. "This is...seriously, a recipe for a laxative?"

"Yes, a revelation to loosen the bowels. Hurts the brain, doesn't it?"

"Tiki is certainly a twisted god. What are all these strange names? Phthalic anhydride? Phenol? Naphthalene tetra...chlor...?"

"I don't understand the instructions in the revelation myself and I don't know what the names are," I leaned back in my chair. "Strangely enough, the Queen understands the revelation and all those names. Naphthalene is just mothsbane sap, by the way. We haven't been able to identify this phenol stuff yet."

"Unbelievable," Bobbo muttered. "Well, I will be back later today, Holy One."

---

General Bobbo, Aybhas Garrison

Bobbo left the shrine and landed Niefl'flaf in the forecourt of the Aybhas Garrison. He dismounted and waved a groom over. "This is Niefl'flaf. Please give him a grooming and a good rubdown. Give him the freedom of the grounds until the sixth bell. Then tack him back up." He dug five bronze out of his money pouch and gave it to the girl, "this should cover the service and whatever he wants to eat, but don't let him have more than one apple. Keep the change." It was one bronze over the usual tip but he overtipped so Niefl'flaf would have premium care.

"Hey, boss! That's not fair!" the winged horse protested. "Make me fly all this way and expend all that energy and not let me have more than one apple?"

"If you do, we'll have to stop at least twice for you to have the trots and I'm the one who has to wash your butt off in the river. Only one apple." Bobbo glared at his mount and then turned to look at the groom who was amused.

"Just one apple it is, sir! Thank you, sir!" The groom flipped one of the bronzes in the air and deftly caught it before stashing the money in her belt pouch.

Bobbo strolled to the entrance of the garrison's headquarters where he was stopped by the sentry. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fit enough to be a threat to anyone who crossed her. "May I ask your business, friend?"

"I wish freedom of the garrison. I am Lord Bobbo haup Pinisla, general of the left of the King's army." He presented his tablet of authority, a fire opal carved with the symbol of his rank and the king's insignia.

"Wait one moment, Honored One. She whistled, "Quit stuffing your face, Usko, and cover the gate. I need to escort someone."

"Coming!" A younger woman arrived running. The first sentry led Bobbo to the office of the garrison captain, who stood up and saluted with her fist over her heart. She was only 24 and already a garrison commander. It didn't matter how good a soldier one was, what mattered for the speed of promotion was how much taller you were and how white your hair was. He swallowed his bitterness and smiled as if he really meant it.

"At ease, Captain Tyoep. Please be seated."

He sat down in a chair facing her. "It's been a few years, Captain."

"Indeed it has," she smiled at the memory. "Those were good times. So what can I do for you, Honored One?"

"I would like the freedom of the garrison for a few hours," explained Bobbo. "I have some time on my hands before an appointment at the shrine."

"Oh? Is the campaign already winding down?" She looked surprised. Bobbo thought, she must think I'm here to make arrangements for the badly wounded.

"After last year's performance at taking their largest city, most of the towns decided to capitulate when we arrived. Only a handful resisted. Now, all we have to do is win the peace." He didn't tell Tyoep that all the Coyn settlements were empty and the inhabitants fled into the Naver Mountains to the south, probably to die of starvation or attacks by wild beasts or the freezing weather during the cold season. He thought it a great waste of good farming talent.

"Freedom of the garrison granted," she smiled with a mischievous glint. "Bet a beer I can beat you in a spar."

"Oh, you think?" he grinned back. "Not likely, little girl." She was at least two hands taller than he was.

"I've gotten better," she made a rueful face. "I had to. Doesn't look good if the old lady running the place can't beat most of the troops."

"Old lady...," he busted up laughing at her calling herself an old lady. "You haven't even had children yet." She had two or three years to go before she took the customary time off to establish a family.

"Hey old man, do you want to try to beat me, or should I collect that beer now?'

"Hehehee, you can try, little girl," he grinned, but he knew better than to underestimate her. She was taller, had a longer reach, and was a lot younger than he was. He was as fit as ever but he was five years older than the last time he sparred with her. She might be stronger than he was now, not that strength was a deciding factor when fighting with weapons. His true advantage was his skill.

"Well, let's get going to the practice ground, grandpa."