{
KARSEUN GEBURICH}
"Aaaagh! You Erog swine!"
Princess Ura reeled from the table, clutching her forehead. She almost collided with her brother, who laughed as he sat on the balustrade behind her. The princess's eyes were wide, frostbite blue as she glared at the one who had struck her.
"I'LL HAVE YOU KILLED, HALF BREED!"
At the table where the princess had been sitting till a moment ago, Karseun Geburich arranged the folds of his fur cloak and rested his staff on his lap once more.
"Nonsense. If you did, your father would have to find another Erog teacher, and by that time your brain would have festered beyond repair."
"Wise words, Sis," smirked Prince Lok, who ducked as Ura flung her quill at him.
"Teacher? HAH!" The princess straightened to her full seven foot height to laugh, and her breath misted in the winter air.
"You're just an old fool who likes the sound of his voice!"
The two royals and their teacher were in the palace cloister, where four eaves enclosed a winter garden. Hand-clipped evergreens basked above a layer of snow, their flowers blooming savage purple, and overhead the sky showed a clear grey Eliydar morning. With guards and courtiers forbidden to intrude, the cloister was a silent haven from the bustling palace and industrious city in which it nestled.
Geburich squinted up at the towering Amazonian-like Ura.
"And you are an errant child who will be too stupid to run your father's kingdom." His voice was scratchy and wizened, nothing like the pretentious tones of the twins.
''You make clearer decisions when you're in pain. So shut up and concentrate, before I hit you again!"
Ura spun to face her brother, who languished on the balustrade.
"He can't talk to me like this!"
"Oh yes he can." Lok grinned, a boyish face framed by long, silvery hair.
"And you! Finish your essay!" barked Geburich, forcing the prince to drop his smile and carry on writing in his journal. The princess scowled at him, then flinched as the old man drummed his hand on the table.
"Focus, Ura! You have to learn this language. It's essential, girl."
Ura glared at the wooden shapes that Geburich had arranged on the table. They were carved from hardy Bolen trees, from the western foothills, and had been smoothed and varnished. The old man had placed them, seemingly at random.
"IT'S NOT A LANGUAGE!" she roared, kicking the table and nearly wrecking the whole thing.
"It's a bunch of wooden blocks!"
Geburich straightened one of the pieces.
"This is the Rhamadara Code - used by the noble houses of Eliydar since before the Thrases War. It was a simple substitute for message scrolls and meant that even the messenger knew not what he was carrying. If he was captured, he would reveal nought under torture, and the blocks would be mistaken for firewood."
"I care not!" Ura turned and folded her arms, pacing the edge of the cloister. Beyond the eaves the mountains rose, majestic and fretted with the smoking shapes of mining towns.
"When I am Queen I shall rule by fire and steel. The people will trust in my power, not these sage's tricks." She waved a hand dismissively at the table.
"I shall give them conquest and industry, and they will love me for it."
"Fine words, Gelu," jabbered the old man.
"But the nobles respect no ruler unless she knows the Rhamadara Code, and after your halfwit brother ruins the kingdom you're going to need all the noble support you can get."
Lok threw down his book and swung his legs off the balustrade, looming over the teacher.
"How dare you? I should have you... AAAAAGH!" He dropped as Geburich brought his staff down on the prince's toes. Ura almost cracked a smile as she watched her brother roll around in pain.
Then Geburich drummed the table once more.
"Again! Look at the blocks."
Ura returned to the table and stared at the wooden pieces.
"THERE'S NOTHING THERE, GEBURICH!"
Now the old man smiled, his beard flecked with grey like the mountain slopes.
"Aah, now you're getting somewhere, my dear." His other hand came out from his fur cloak and started moving the blocks, rearranging them in a new order.
"What you have you said is the very essence of sagacity. For just as music is found in the space between the notes, so does wisdom lie in the mighty leaps twixt truth and faith."
Ura was about to chide the old teacher for his riddles, but the words froze on her tongue. She looked down, scowling, then sighed as Geburich finished rearranging the blocks on the table.
"Sometimes the thing that is not there, is the thing that truly matters."
He passed her a book, with the Code written out in beautiful Erog caligraphy.
"Learn the letters and the combinations before next week." He then shooed her away from the table and gave Lok a prod with his staff.
"Right you, stop crying and sit down. You have an essay to regale with me with."
Lok slowly got up and limped to the other chair, taking out his journal and wiping at his eyes. The two royals sat quietly now, head bowed, and accepted their teacher's authority. The prince opened the leatherbound pages and took a deep breath.
"WAKE UP!"
Geburich jolted.
* * * * * * *
"WAKE UP!"
Geburich sat bolt upright in his bed, the fur blankets falling from him. His log cabin was shaking, pot and pans falling from shelves and windows rattling. Someone was hammering on the door, and a deep, garrelous voice was calling his name.
"KARSEUN GEBURICH! WAKE UP!"
The wizard grumbled angrily and tipped out of his bed, kicking over old potion bottles and tripping on moth eaten books. The table near his bed was piled high with dried herbs and assorted crystals, and as he moved a herd of cats yowled and hissed. He kicked them aside and pulled on his red sage's cloak, cursing in the morning gloom that followed his dream.
"Who dares disturb me! Be gone from this place!"
"By the gods alone, old man! Open up!" retorted the voice, and the door shook again. The whole cabin seemed on the verge of collapse.
Geburich stubbed his toe on a cauldron, tripped on his staff, yelled at a cat, then finally got to the door. He yanked it open and a gust of mountain air struck his wrinkled face.
"If you seek to trick me, I'll turn you into a..." He stopped. There was nothing in front of him - just the open air and the trees on the mountain slope.
"Oi!" Something poked him in the stomach. He looked down to see an Acluv in full travelling year, holding out a cloth pouch. The stranger had a ginger beard that hid most of his face, and his stout, muscular body was padded with fine leather. On his cloak was the symbol of House Devarkey. Clearly he was a royal messenger.
"Get off my mountain!"
"Take the bag!"
Geburich glared at the Acluv then snatched the pouch from him. It rattled as he held it, and through the opening came the scent of moorland pine. It was a distinct aroma - one that Geburich remembered from long ago.
"Stay exactly where you are. My cats are watching you." He turned from the messenger and moved to his table. Clearing some old scrolls and broken wands aside, he tipped out the contents of the pouch. A few dozen finely carved wooden blocks scattered over the table. They had been varnished in pine oil - an expensive lacquer used only by those who could afford it.
The message had come from the King himself. A man he had not spoken to in ten years.... a family he had not dreamt about till this night.
Frowning, Geburich arranged the blocks as the messenger watched him from the icicled doorway. With each letter he formed his heart sank lower. From the nothingness, from the space between the notes, from the gap between truth and faith, a tragedy unfolded.
URA AND LOK ARE DEAD. COME AT ONCE.
Sometimes the people who are not there, are the ones who truly matter.