My strength is ruined by three thoughts that, as I lie in guarded idleness, I cannot help but conceive.
- I would no longer have the comfort and order of a daily routine.
- I would no longer be a prince, with a prince's past and his future.
- I would not have my brother, whose sheer existence, acts, in my mind, almost as an amulet of protection.
But, upon consideration, the third thought really includes the first two. So it is just one thought, born in idleness, that causes me to hover between two options, without any progression or end in sight.
In a windowless room I do not know whether it is day or night. I lie in a perpetual semi-darkness. I have dimmed all the lights except the ones by the doors, as the note that Josephine left instructed me to do.
In these hours of idleness, I have descended into the worst pettiness and indecision. The time is no doubt approaching when a decision will be made, with or without my consent. But I am no closer to being ready.
Even though I know the risk she's taken, that the way stands open, that the way back seems closed, something in me wants to stay. As inhospitable as my home has become, it is still my home: its kinds of trouble, suffering, and misfortune are kinds I am familiar with. If worst comes to worst, I would have received nothing that I did not already expect.
Yes. Why not stay? I would be convinced. Her plan would appear the plan of a child, and too troublesome for me to bother with. It would seem as though I would wait after all. But just as I am about to decide myself, something else in me cries, "But why wait? why will your own stasis and imprisonment? Why be unbrave, and be contemptible in the eyes of Josephine, and live like a squatter under the growing oppression of the City,-- than step out from its shelter?"
"And into darkness, nameless limbo, the life of a commoner?"
"What does it matter? Do you fear homelessness? Does your pettiness make you unable to leave? Do any duties bind you?"
"Since my birth, I have worked to eradicate in myself everything that my education has deemed mean, little-minded, or unstrong. And today I do not pay half a thought to long journeys or hardship... I scorn comfort, small children, and cute animals... When cats try to sit on my lap, I place them back on the floor. When children ask me to play, I pretend not to hear. I do not harbor grudges against those who've wronged me. I do not desire revenge when I am insulted. I do not aggrandize myself or desire to be thought better than I am. I do not hesitate to perform what is expected of me. I do not fear death or hold my life at any worth, except to serve my Princehood. Yet...can I leave? Is it the better choice? When both choices would result in destinies that are so determined, so irremediable, and that must be so far apart, which one is better...?"
...
No one since Josephine has come to see me, but this is not necessarily a bad sign. It means that the Law is being cautious, investigating every angle, weighing the possibilities carefully, probing the darkness of people's testimonies, and hearing out all sides before coming to a decision. And no doubt, when they come to a decision, that decision would be the most just one. It would be a decision that would satisfy all parties. It would not so much be unquestionable--whether it is questioned does not matter, and it is even possible that questioning it would be means of strengthening it. Rather, it would take away, in its compellingness, in its overwhelming power, any desire but the desire to agree with it.
And yet, for now, I still do not have anything to go on. I do not know how my case is progressing. I do not know how my brother's claims are being received. Though, back then, it appeared that everyone was convinced by the Prince's story , a lot can change in the space of a few hours. Things that had seemed eminently compelling during one's evening tabletalk become embarrassing illusions in the morning light. No, none of those signs can be taken as guarantees of a future. Anything can still happen.
So, if the state of things is still so undecided, why rush things? What do I have to go on except the estimate of a seventeen year old girl? And no matter how precocious her understanding, acute her eye, or powerful her House, she is missing much in the situation that someone with experience would have caught. And cases like these are often decided on points of incredible subtlety. Why trust only a single person's account, especially when it concerns a matter as serious as this one? Why not wait to hear more?
But this is thinking as though it were a matter of persuasion, as though it were a matter of whether the Prince were believed, a matter of whether I am punished or redeemed. But, in reality, it has nothing to do with how things appear to everyone, but of whether I am or am not--... And that simply is, whether it is known, believed, or not.
That, I am in the dark as much as anyone else.
I have been receiving mysterious letters, but I have never discerned in them any sign of being associated with the Demon race. I had thought they were nonsense. In fact, I had assumed that they'd been sent from Josephine herself as a prank. Had they been in fact from Demons trying to contact me? Had my replies been misinterpreted? What had I even written?
...
"If I leave, I would not have my brother." -- But if I were to take that logic further: if I stay, whether I am redeemed or not, I would not have my brother. Like so. If I am redeemed: my brother is fastened to his fall, and I would likely become the Crown Prince. If I am convicted: I will no longer be what I am, my history will be annulled, and I will be bereft a brother and a father.
If I leave, I would leave my brother. If I stay, I would lose my brother.
If I leave, I will cling to a sliver of possibility, but at least preserve my history. The meaning of my actions is still ambiguous. The circumstances of my birth still obscure. The reason the statue fell, the reason no one else seemed to see it, or why my brother (I do not believe he was pretending) sincerely believed I was the bastard of an Incubus and a traitor, none have a reason to rest on. Anything can still be, in fact, the real state of things.
The candles by the door plunge out and shock me out of my thoughts--the time has come. I stand and at the other door I extinguish the last candles, as Josephine instructed me to do. Then I wait. My future is dark. As dark, one of my eager satirists might quip, as the depths of an ass. . . .
* * * * *
The wand that Josephine had picked for me was chosen for being the best weapon for its size. Though the manufacture of concealed wands is technically against the law, it is common knowledge that every noble house of note ignores it, and that the Empire itself is forced to turn a blind eye.
I am one of the rare few in the City possessing abilities in both magic and swordsmanship. Since the weapon of a Swordmage could not be smuggled undetected, the wand she picked offers me the best possibility of escape.
If it is a wand from her, I can have no doubt about its quality. In fact, up to and including this very moment, the question of whether I would get away had not even come up as a question for me.
I have not practiced with a wand for nearly a year, but I am confident in my abilities. To test its integrity, I allow my mana to flow into its cavity, and feel it shudder responsively as I alter the type and degree of the channel, in just the way a well-made wand should.
That was the last reason for possibly waiting--if the wand turned out to be faulty.
The note Josephine provided instructs me to wait at the door she entered from. I charge a shock spell, like a good student of the Academy, to prevent whomever I encounter from crying out. Since it will likely be a member of the Royal Guard more powerful than I am, I charge the strongest of the shock spells I can muster.
Minutes pass. I dissipate my charge several times because of the strain.
I hear a creak and sense the door open into the room.
I had forgotten that the door opened in that direction.
No one steps inside. I begin to grow afraid that they would see that I am no longer lying in bed. Though it is dark, they might have an obscure blessing that grants them superior sight.
Because I am standing by the silk wall-hangings beside the door, the door blocks my angle of attack when it is opened. A careless mistake. Whoever has opened the door is being cautious and has not stepped into the room. Because of this, I'm stuck.
But then, in the crack of the doorway I notice someone adjust their position. Whoever it is, they're about my height. That takes away the possibility of it being Josephine.
In a second, I aim my wand through the crack and let loose the shock.
I realize my mistake immediately: if the spell made contact with the door or the wall, the greater part of its power would have been dispersed, and the door might even have broken, alerting everyone by the noise. It would have been safer to have stabilized the wand in the crack of the door before I fired. Here, I have been a bad student of the Academy.
This time I'm lucky. I hear the collapse of several bodies. To my good fortune, no one outside bothered to cast a magic barrier, and a point-blank stun spell has taken care of all of them at once.
The sound of armor thudding on the ground seemed incredibly loud. I wait for a few moments. No one seems to have noticed it.
I crouch and peer outside.
Five bodies of men lie in the dark.
Two magic swords, their crystals glittering dully with charged mana, lie a few inches away from the outstretched arms of two Knights.
I creep forward and take one of the swords. The wand, only as slender as wild grass, is already showing signs of losing its integrity. As time-consuming as they are to craft, concealed magic weapons can be used for only a handful of times. I slip it into the loose pockets of my spring slacks, only so that it would not be discovered later and cause trouble for Josephine. In doing so, I feel the weight of the magic Orb that I had slipped into my pocket back then in the garden. I might as well keep it.
I pull the bodies into the room and leave the door open as her note had instructed.
Then I leave the room and creep along the walls to the edge of the first neighboring door.
Inside the next room are three people. This time, I have not only the element of surprise on my side, but a weapon I am adept with. I wait, preparing the sword with the minimum amount of mana, so that it would not give away my position in the offchance that someone was in the hallway.
A single cloaked figure approaches.
When the figure is almost at the door it stops, just outside the reach of a surprise attack.
"A stranger..." (a man's voice)
A man's voice: I recognize it instantly as the voice of my sister's music tutor. Though I had expected someone else, I am glad that I will see him a last time before I leave.
I reply with the words "a friend".
Standing in the doorway, he casually hands his own cloak to me.
"Who is it?" (A voice from inside)
"They want to know if you want the rest of your roasted rabbit ears." (Prism)
"Now, you tell them to..." (Voice)
"Just say that they do." (Prism to me, as if to shield me from their coarseness)
Then, as though I'd said something in reply, he changes his tone.
"Oh? They're the ones with extra rabbit ears? And they want to give them to us? Well, I'm not sure. (He turns to the room) Do you guys want any more rabbit ears?"
In their delighted surprise, the guards do not even notice that Prism had given his cloak to me, or that I had come from the direction of my room. Everything he says is spoken so lightly, that I become half convinced myself that I am a messenger asking about their snack situation. Never had I thought Prism capable of such dissembling. You never know what you might have in your old friends.
We pass by the first doorway safely.
* * * * *
"Don't do anything unless I say so. Keep your sword down." (Prism)
"Of course."
He has given me a cleric's cap to hide my eyes and a false beard to hide my mouth.
The next corridor has more than six guards. Two of them are keeping sentry. A few courtiers in their cloaks lounge about. Prism calls out to them before they have a chance to speak.
"Hey! Have you seen Pouncet around?" (Prism)
The guards that are awake turn to each other and immediately begin to chuckle. They had an expression like "what did he do this time?"
"My friend, my friend! Your money's as good as gone. You've a better chance of getting orcs to live peacefully than getting him to pay his debts." (Guard)
Prism asks them if this is true and begins to look discouraged. But suddenly he perks up.
"Well, he's paying up to me." (Prism)
Several more guards begin to go "my friend, my friend".
"He's paying up to me, and do you know why? It's because I'm smarter than you. I'm smarter than you. And that's why I'm getting my money back." (Prism)
He is begged to go on.
We pass over to the other side of the guards.
"You see, you assumed you'd just ask him directly and he'd pay up. You'd remind him and he'd remember. You'd threaten him and he'd be averse to trouble. And then, when that failed, you assumed that it was impossible outright. But I have a secret weapon... (he turns to me) Didn't you say he was in trouble with the little Princess?" (Prism)
"..."
I shrug.
"He is! I heard about that!" (A voice from my left)
It is the voice of a young guard who'd been sleeping off in a corner. He (or she?) remembers hearing a rumor about this Pouncet. Apparently he'd angered her somehow. But the details are vague...
"Did you see where he went?" (Prism)
"He told me he was going to nap in the storage room. It's the one up the stairs to the right. You can't miss it."
* * * * *
At a machicolate on the outer wall that tonight holds not a single watch, Prism throws down a rope ladder.
As easily as that: no gates were passed, no chains removed, no barriers willed through. Simply released. Even the plans of a teenage girl would serve.
"Will you and the Count's daughter be safe?"
"Don't worry about us. We have alibis that can't be broken even if they have the courage to accuse us." (Prism)
We had scarcely talked to each other the whole way over. I feel as though I were expected to say more, but I have nothing to say. We embrace a last time and wish each other good fortune. Then I hastily descend, looking up not once.
Shouts break out in the distance.
