A Kind of Peace Read online

  As he stood before the hall, he seemed to search out the comm-pickups and direct an unblinking, unflinching gaze to the whole population of Inan.

  He was inscrutable, yet the only one that Simeon felt any of them could trust with the planet. By their very nature, the people of Praal shared few of the conceits of the other nation states. And, by extension, a Mage who had focused his energies on studying the very nature of the universe and beyond had refined those nation state characteristics to their finest point.

  Yes. Inan was safe with him. But the others?

  Politicians were capricious. These old men shared some of those characteristics by the very fact of their places of birth.

  Simeon wondered if he was alone in thinking that, behind the show, this peace would not be the easy ride that the Chief Ministers were so eager to present.

  While this had been preying on his mind the Mages had been returned to their seats and the penultimate part of the treaty signing was taking place. Praalian servants brought an ornate table into the hall and onto the dais. While this took place, the Chief Ministers returned to talking in turn - the strain of speaking in unison obviously being too much for them to continue at length - and spelt out the terms of the peace. In essence, Bethel and Varn kept parity, while Turith and Kyas acceded territory and economic expediencies of war. It was clear that these two would return to their status as adjuncted nation states. Praal held aloof and self-sufficient as always.

  All change was no change. The hierarchy of the planet remained as before. The only thing to alter was that the warrior forces stood down. Instead of combat, select cadre would be engaged in defensive duties within their own boundaries.

  This last caveat did not go down well in the main body of the hall. Warriors without income were men with little prospect of other work. The war had raged for so long that there had been generations of men who knew nothing but how to be a warrior. Simeon was amongst them. He should have been thinking of how this would affect his future.

  Instead, he was wondering why Daliel had only now entered the hall and why he was making for him through the massed black of the Bethel delegation.

  "Where have you been?" Simeon asked as the squat warrior came within earshot. "You should have seen the performance. All show, no doubt, but..."

  "Enough! We can talk of this later. First you must come with me." The warrior's heavily scarred visage carried a mien more grim than was usual.

  Simeon did not have a chance to protest. Daliel took his arm in a firm grip and set off for the entrance to the hall. Despite their unusual behaviour, their fellow warriors had no cause to pass comment. Their attention was focused on the ceremony.

  Two copies of a large, illuminated document were laid on the ornate table. The size and style of the document had been decided in conference to act as a signifier. It was bold and dramatic and was a gesture of intent to the waiting world. But it served its purpose: as the Chief Ministers of Bethel and Varn signed, side by side, swapping copies before each was signed in turn by the other Chief Ministers present, so the audience in the hall - and doubtless across the globe - were held in awe, their collective breath paused at the portent of such a moment.

  Finally, the war was over.

  Simeon did not witness the signing. By the time that the first two signatures had been scratched on paper, and the document swapped to be counter-signed, he was already outside the great hall.

  "Daliel, it might be ridiculous but it's history," Simeon said, "so you'd better have a good reason for making me miss it."

  "I have, son, I have. Tell me, is there something that's worrying you?"

  Simeon frowned. "Not worry, but... it's those Mages. They're all old, probably older than we're supposed to be, and probably senile. Look at that old bastard from our land. You saw what he was like the other day..."

  "Yes, I did. More importantly, so did you," Daliel said, cutting across him. "Did nothing strike you as strange about that little encounter?"

  "Not as strange as your manner," Simeon returned sharply. "Tell me, why do I get the feeling that there is more going on here than I know about?"

  "Because there is," Daliel said simply. "But not here. Come." With which he began to move in the direction of the chambers they had stumbled on a few days before, leaving Simeon in his wake. Frowning heavily, the confused warrior followed his compatriot.

  "I'll tell you what's been bothering me about the other day," Simeon started as they ascended a spiralling stairwell, "for a start, how come one of the Mages was wandering about on his own? Where was the security for such a valuable diplomatic asset? And if they're so powerful, then how come he couldn't break a simple charm on a door?"

  "Is that all?" Daliel asked.

  "Isn't that enough to be going on with?" Simeon countered.

  "Ah, true enough, son. But isn't there something specific that worries at you, about your encounter the other day?"

  Simeon's face must have writ large his puzzlement for Daliel laughed when he looked at him. By this time they had ascended to the level of the chambers where they had encountered Ramus-Bey a few days before.

  Then it dawned on him.

  "Why are we here?"

  "Philosophers have joined Mages in asking that question since the very beginnings of time," Daliel intoned with a hint of mockery. "Who are we to question..."

  "That's not what I mean and you well know that!" Simeon snapped. "There should be no way that we could get near the Mages without being stopped by warrior security. They might be all-powerful, but they're also old men. Physically, they could easily be taken by surprise and overpowered before they had a chance to act, or raise alarm. We should have been stopped long before we got this far."

  "Maybe the warrior security aren't that bothered?"

  Simeon shook his head. "They're Praalians. They don't do anything in short measure. Unless..." He looked at Daliel, searching for clues in his face. It had to be... "Unless they're requested to hold back."

  Daliel grinned, his scarred face split by an almost beatific beam. "I knew you were the right man for the job."

  Simeon wanted to ask what that job may be, but the older warrior continued, leaving him with little chance to interject.

  "You're right about the Praal of course. They're as close to neutral as anyone gets on Inan, but they can see the sense in co-operation. Particularly given the circumstances." He put his arm around Simeon's shoulders, guiding him on their further ascent. Given that Simeon was head and shoulders above Daliel, and that the older man was squat where the younger warrior was lean and wiry, this was not as easily achieved as may be supposed.

  "Look at this place," he continued. "You think that the lighting and heating are well-concealed pieces of tech? You think that their warrior security relies on hidden comm-transmitters to monitor any movement? No, son, they don't need all that. They use it on a low level, sure, but in secure places like this they use magic. All the light and heat in here comes from charms. Likewise, their warrior security for these places are highly trained, and can remote-view from anywhere in the building or surrounding area.

  "They knew we were coming up here the other day. They knew, and we had their permission. Ramus is a tetchy old bastard and he's been driving them mad. Hey, their security chief even raised an eyebrow when he told me about it. You have to push one of them a long way for that. They've let him roam to a degree because he's not been in any danger. With all the Mages in one place, it might have been tempting for a warrior with ambition to try and tilt the odds for his nation state."

  Simeon made a moue of distrust. "Is that what we were supposed to be doing when we came up here? Because if it was, then you should have told me, 'cause I had no idea. It never entered my head... and it certainly wasn't put there."

  Daliel threw back his head and laughed. "See, that's one of the things I like about you son. Sense of humour. One of our concerns was that this could happen. That was one of the reasons the peace treaty was held on this continent, in this pla
ce. No one was going to get past the warrior security in this place. But once we get outside... This is how it works. These Mages are frail old men despite their power. They're going to need bodyguards for the rest of their lives. Knowing of Ramus's little habit of wandering it seemed like a good way to introduce Mage and guard."

  Simeon stopped, disengaging Daliel's arm from his shoulders. His tone hardened. "Which is why he found it hard to keep that stone face. Still, at least someone knew what was going on. Well, two of you... Tell me, Daliel, just who are you?"

  The older warrior faced Simeon, looked him square in the eye, and shrugged. "In many ways, I am who I say I am. My name is Daliel and I am a warrior. Have been all my life."

  "But that's not all..." It was not a question.

  Daliel shook his head. "No, son, not just that. I've worked in Intel for the last eight anums. I was recruited because of my record and worked in the field amongst our own people. My task was to sniff out spies, and also to look for new talent. Recruitment, if you like."

  "What about the prison farm?"

  Daliel shrugged. "Bad luck. I was captured in action. I had to keep quiet and hope that they didn't have Intel that would sign my death decree. I could say nothing about it to you when we were on the farm."

  "But Jenna..."

  "Would I consider you a security risk for that? A spy, perhaps? No, not you... whatever else, you don't have that in you. Which is why I made sure that we were co-opted to the warrior delegation for this conference. And why I arranged with the Praal warrior security to come up here and introduce you to Ramus-Bey."

  Simeon's mind was racing. First, he had to assimilate the fact that everything he had thought about his friend was wrong. Second, the fact that he had put his life at risk with Ensign Jenna of the Kyas. Doubly so, considering what her own side would have done to him.

  But at least the puzzle of why he and Daliel had been picked for this conference was solved. That was some scant consolation.

  It was only when Daliel turned and carried on climbing, beckoning the younger warrior to follow, that the last piece of another puzzled fell into place.

  "Oh no... I know I'm not the quickest warrior you'll ever find, but I'm not completely stupid. Me... and that irritating old..."

  "You're the best suited. A good warrior and a man who can handle a situation with tact and discretion." Daliel smiled wryly. "Your little adventure with Jenna showed me that."

  "That's a completely different thing. Besides, how can I be a good warrior? I was captured and held prisoner."

  "The vagaries of battle are no reflection on ability, son. Each nation state will be picking a bodyguard to shadow their Mage, to protect them from immediate physical harm. It takes a certain skill, a certain type of warrior. Certainly not a thick ear like me."

  Simeon 7 stood five steps down from his friend. He knew that this was to be a turning point in his life. He wasn't sure if he was ready for it. He knew it was not his decision to make. Daliel had already made it for him.

  "Come on, son. You've got to be properly introduced to your new assignment"

  CHAPTER THREE

  Signing Day - Year Zero

  If the day itself had seemed unreal, then the evening was far beyond: it was something that Simeon would not have wished upon his worst enemy. For what would prove to be far from the last time, he found himself cursing his so-called friend Daliel for the position in which he had put him. Admittedly, he could have refused the offer to be a Mage's bodyguard: but at what cost? Having turned down a post that was to be considered an honour, he would have found himself discharged from active duty in the peace, with little chance of a reference to any future employer. In truth, the idea of any future employers queuing up for his services was little short of laughable.

  So he had, less than graciously, accepted. The two warriors had then completed the walk to the Mage's bedchamber and awaited the return of Ramus-Bey. They didn't have to wait for long: like all the Mages present, he found little to interest him in the petty affairs of dullards and fools. A point he had made most forcefully on his return and at great length. At the same time, making it obvious that he included the two warriors in his scathing verdict upon his fellow countrymen.

  Furthermore, he had been less than pleased with meeting his fellow Mages. They too were fools. Either that, or they cultivated an air of facile stupidity in order to try and deceive him as to the extent of their true knowledge. With the possible exception of that arrogant cretin from Praal. He was beyond any description... although this did not prevent Ramus-Bey from exercising his considerable vocabulary and talent in the art of scorn.

  Simeon sat on the end of the Mage's bed while the small, wizened ball of vitriol strode up and down the chamber extolling his views at length. It was going to be a long night.

  Eventually, the Mage calmed down enough to listen to Daliel explain why they were in his chamber and what Simeon's role was to be. As Simeon expected, the Mage was less than impressed. There followed a long diatribe on how it was absurd that anyone would want to kill a harmless Mage. This from the man who had, a few days before, explained equally how he could annihilate his bodyguard with a raise of the eyebrow. Apparently irony was lost on those of a magical bent.

  Eventually the old man calmed down and it became apparent from the way that he spoke of the academy that he was homesick, and longed to be back at his studies. From the way in which his face softened as he talked of home, Simeon began to see that part of the old man's seeming irascibility was down to him being old, and a long way from home. He may be a master of his craft, but he was still a man.

  Daliel left them to rejoin the peace festivities in the great hall. It was as much for the watching millions around Inan as it was for those who took part, and the old warrior was determined to enjoy himself. The tables piled with food may have been part of a show, but it still had to be consumed.

  "It's like cleaning the sewers, son: you don't want to do it, but it has to be done... and you may as well enter it with relish!"

  "Quite. I'll try and think of it that way, it may make me feel better," Simeon replied as he bade his friend farewell, glancing back at the resting Mage who lay on the bed, snoring softly.

  So the remainder of the evening passed quietly. Praalian castle servants brought his sparse travelling pack when they came with the evening meal. Obviously they had been briefed about the change in circumstance. Simeon tried to ask the servant if the same procedure had been followed by all parties at the peace talks. Even as he heard the words come out of his mouth he knew that he would have, at best, a non-committal answer. In fact, all he received was a blank stare.

  Inscrutable and discrete in all ways, the Praal.

  All the way down the line Simeon felt as though he had been manipulated. Indeed, the idea of a guard must have been mooted from the moment the peace talks had been planned, as a cursory look around the Mage's room revealed an ante-room with bedding already prepared.

  As they ate, Simeon made an attempt at conversation. After all, he was going to be in the old man's presence almost constantly. They hadn't got off to the best of starts. Despite Simeon's stumbling attempts, the old man made no attempt to meet him anywhere near halfway, and the meal finished in an uncomfortable silence.

  The Mage meditated for a short while, humming tunelessly and making it hard for Simeon to concentrate on the story pamphlet he opted to hide behind to while away the time. Easily bored, Simeon always carried a few of the flimsy publications with him. They were almost juvenile in their simplicity, telling mostly of imaginary academies and the misadventures of junior adepts. However, it was this soothing simplicity that he sought at such times, and unlike the heavier tomes of adult storytelling, they were easy to carry in a light pack.

  It was though, a bad choice to hide behind in front of a Mage. When the old man came out of his meditative trance and noticed what his bodyguard was reading, he sniffed heavily. Simeon elected to ignore him. So Ramus-Bey sniffed harder, and with a great
er emphasis. Still Simeon ignored him. The Mage opted for a more direct approach.

  "It's only fit for the dung-heap, you know," he murmured in a disparaging tone. "Nothing like real life at all," he added after a short pause in which he had been further ignored.

  Simeon lowered the story pamphlet. "Probably not. But that isn't really the point of such stories. They're designed to provide a brief respite from the everyday, and as such are hardly likely to let the harsher truths of reality intrude... are they?"

  He enjoyed the look of surprise on the old man's face.

  "Hmm... I suppose not," the old man sniffed, then fell silent.

  One-up to Simeon, the newly appointed guard thought, allowing himself some small degree of smugness. Certainly, if nothing else it kept the Mage quiet until the time came when he announced he wished to retire.

  Simeon made a cursory examination of the chamber, checking the window and surrounding walls. In truth, he felt that the Praal would have the situation covered. There was no way that they would risk any transgressions on their territory. Still, it did no harm to get into the habit of security checks from the very beginning.

  Once he was satisfied that the situation had been secured, he bade the Mage good night and retired to the ante-room. Light extinguished, the old man was soon softly snoring. Under a dim light Simeon attempted to read a little more, but now, without the need to distract himself from his charge, he felt his mind wandering.

  It had been a strange day. Why had he been chosen? Because Daliel had spent time with him and considered him trustworthy and conscientious? He would like to think that was so, but there were two factors militating against this. One, that he had spent his time with Daliel as a war prisoner, and so the older man had never seen him in combat. Two, Simeon had shown a willingness to consort with the enemy. Admittedly his relationship with Ensign Jenna had been far from military. Nonetheless, she was from another land. One with which he had been, ostensibly, at war.