A Price for Everything

A Price for Everything

The morning sun had only just cleared the eastern hills when Fateese carried the final travelling case down the steps of Delrona’s rented villa.

The carriage waited beneath the nongnut trees at the end of the sandy gravel drive. It was built for comfort rather than speed, with polished darkwood panels, brass lamps and the silver-leaf crest of the private company that carried important passengers  painted upon each door. Two grey gulather stallions stamped impatiently in their harnesses while the driver tightened a strap and looked toward the cloudless sky.

Delrona was already seated inside.

She wore a travelling robe of deep purple beneath a light grey cloak. A leather case rested across her knees, and beside her sat a small black bag containing enough gold to purchase a respectable house in most parts of Aethoria.

Fateese placed the last case behind the driver and climbed toward the carriage.

“Did you bring my Sylvan power crystals?” Delrona asked.

He stopped with one foot upon the step.

“The green travelling bag. It was beside the door.”

“No,” Fateese said. “I did not see....”

“Well, go and get it. We have a ship to catch, and ships have an unfortunate habit of departing according to their own schedules.”

Fateese looked at the leather case upon her knees.

“But you have a bag of perfectly good crystals.”

Delrona glanced down as though only now noticing it.

“These are inferior yellow Solaryn crystals. They do not retain their charge, their alignment is inconsistent and they are not powerful enough for some of......”She stopped.

Fateese waited.

Delrona’s eyes narrowed.

“Why am I telling you this? You are like a fesealon listening to thunder. You hear the noise, stare at the sky and ...... nothing. Get the bag.”

Fateese stepped down again.

“We are already late,” Delrona called after him.

“Yes,” he muttered as he returned toward the villa. “That is apparently the fault of the person who remembered every bag except the one nobody asked him to bring.”

“What was that?”

“I said I will be quick.”

“You said considerably more than that.”

Fateese disappeared through the villa doors.

Several minutes later, he returned carrying a narrow black and purple case reinforced with silver corners. He held it carefully with both hands. Unlike Delrona’s other luggage, the case had no lock. Instead, eleven fine crystal lines crossed its lid and converged around a polished stone at its centre.

Delrona took it from him and touched two fingers to the stone.

The lines briefly glowed.

Only then did she allow Fateese to enter the carriage.

The driver cracked the reins, and they left the hilltop villa at a speed that caused the wheels to scatter gravel across Delrona’s carefully maintained gardens.

Their destination was Lower Helion in the north. Reaching it would require several days of travel across the plains, with stops at inns along the old military road. It was less convenient than departing from Helion’s southern harbour, but convenience was not Delrona’s greatest concern.

Lower Helion offered discretion.

Since the Solaryn Civil War, the northern territories had struggled to compete with the wealthier and more heavily populated southern lands. Trade routes shifted toward Helion. Investments had disappeared. Warehouses emptied after a short time, estates failed and once-prosperous towns discovered that honour made a poor substitute for food.

In response, Lower Helion had learned to interpret its civil laws with flexibility.

Land formerly owned by southern Solaryns could be redeveloped if the correct official misplaced the original ownership tablet. Cargo lost during shipping incidents frequently reappeared in private warehouses. Untaxed goods travelled through northern ports beneath the protection of conveniently inaccurate manifests.

Unsanctioned crystals, restricted Virielian products and artefacts of uncertain ownership could all be purchased there.

There was also quiet passage for Aethorians who wished to travel without enduring the questions of an excessively dutiful guardian. For the right price, Lower Helion could provide nearly anything. For a slightly higher price, it could forget that it had done so.

Delrona spent the first morning issuing instructions. “Send one thousand gold pieces to Amazania,” she said.

Fateese sat opposite her with a writing tablet balanced upon his knees.

“To whom?”

“The Girls’ School of Sylvan Supremacy.”

Fateese looked up.

“That is its actual name?”

“It teaches young mages, healers and guardians the superior disciplines, traditions and culture of the Sylvan Watch.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“It is the name that appears upon its accounts.”

Fateese wrote it down.

The school had been founded entirely through Delrona’s patronage. Its students studied conventional history and crystal disciplines, but every lesson carried a second purpose. Sylvan achievements were presented as the natural result of cultural superiority. Sylvan failures were attributed to foreign interference. Cooperation with other Crestrealms was described as useful only when it advanced Sylvan interests.

Its finest graduates frequently received positions in regional councils, trading houses and guardian commands and all too often they were followed by grants and gratuities.

“Make certain the funds are recorded as a contribution to historical education,” Delrona continued.

“Rather than political indoctrination?”

Delrona looked at him.

Fateese lowered his eyes to the tablet.

“Historical education,” he repeated.

She gave further instructions concerning properties in the Auric Exchange, private crystal purchases and three Helion merchants who were to receive invitations to future gatherings at her villa.

Fateese wrote until his hand ached.

After several hours, Delrona stopped speaking. Whether she had finished or merely found the conversation tedious was not clear.

The carriage continued northward beneath a hard blue sky.

Dry grass rippled across the plains. Herds of long-horned moonstalkers scattered from the road, and dust followed the carriage in a pale cloud. By late afternoon, the hills of Helion had vanished behind them.

They reached the Border Inn shortly before sunset.

The inn stood upon the site of the first major battle of the Helion Wars, although little remained to commemorate the event beyond a cracked stone marker and several iron spearheads mounted above the fireplace. The building had been rebuilt so many times that Fateese doubted any part of it had witnessed the battle except perhaps the ground beneath the cellar.

The innkeeper recognized Delrona’s private carriage and immediately offered her the largest room.

For supper, the kitchen served flame-roasted desert scaleback runner with plains mushrooms and a sauce made from sour red berries. The meat was considered a regional delicacy and cost more than Fateese ordinarily spent on food in a week.

Delrona ate three bites.

“The mushrooms have been overcooked,” she said.

The innkeeper, who had been waiting nearby for praise, stiffened.

“They were gathered this morning.”

“They have nevertheless been overcooked.”

“The scaleback was caught only yesterday.”

“That explains why it tastes surprised.”

Fateese continued eating. He had learned never to allow Delrona’s dissatisfaction to interfere with an expensive meal.

She retired early to a room containing a feather mattress, a private washbasin and two windows overlooking the plains. Fateese stayed to finish his portion and hers before he was ushered to a narrow ground-floor chamber beside the stables.

His room contained a straw mattress, a stool with three reliable legs and a small window that would not close. Through it allowed the combined smells of gulather manure, damp hay and an animal whose digestive difficulties continued through most of the night.

He slept badly.

The following morning, the innkeeper stood outside beneath a darkening sky.

“You may wish to remain another day,” he told them. “Rain is coming from the west.”

Delrona looked across the plains. Low grey clouds gathered along the horizon, but the air around the inn remained dry.

“An interesting forecast,” she said. “Particularly from a man who charges six gold pieces for a room containing a straw mattress.”

“The northern rivers rise quickly after heavy rain.”

“The only circumstance under which I would remain here and suffer another meal and a second restless night upon your bedding is if you paid me.”

The innkeeper looked toward Fateese.

Fateese gave him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“Prepare the carriage,” Delrona ordered.

They departed before the first rain reached the inn.

By midday, the sky had become a single sheet of grey.

Rain struck the carriage roof with increasing force. Water streamed across the windows, turning the grasslands into blurred bands of green and brown. The road softened beneath the wheels, and mud sprayed from the gulather’s hooves.

Delrona sat with her arms folded.

Fateese watched another flash of distant lightning.

“The innkeeper may have been correct.”

“Even an innkeeper will occasionally stumble into accuracy.”

The rain continued.

Several hours later, the carriage slowed.

Fateese opened the window. Wind drove cold water into his face.

Ahead, the road descended toward a river crossing. In dry weather, the river was broad, shallow and calm enough for wagons to pass without difficulty. Flat stones had been laid across its bed, and white marker posts indicated the safest route.

The marker posts were barely visible.

Brown water raced between the banks, carrying branches, grass and clumps of uprooted soil. Rain from the plains had flooded into the river system faster than the ground could absorb it. The water had already risen above the carriage axles and continued climbing.

The driver pulled the gulathers to a stop.

“We cannot cross this.”

Delrona opened the carriage door.

The driver turned in his seat. Rain ran from the rim of his hat.

“The water is too high. We need to return to the inn.”

“We are not returning.”

“The gulathers could lose their footing.”

“They are gulathers. Their principal functions are standing, walking and pulling.”

“The current could turn the carriage.”

“Then prevent it.”

The driver stared at her.

“With respect, my lady, I cannot prevent a river.”

Delrona stepped down onto the road. Mud immediately darkened the hem of her cloak.

“You assured me that you knew this route.”

“I do.”

“And you assured me that your gulathers were trained for difficult travel.”

“They are.”

“Then either your assurances were false, in which case I shall make certain no respectable household in Helion hires you again, or you are allowing a little rain to interfere with your responsibilities.”

Fateese leaned out of the carriage.

“It may be somewhat more than a little rain.”

Delrona ignored him.

The driver looked at the river, then back toward the road they had travelled. His pride told him to turn back just to spite his overly assertive passenger but the thought of losing the fare managed to win out until finally, he tightened the reins.

“Stay inside. Keep your weight toward the centre.”

Delrona returned to her seat.

The gulathers entered the water.

For the first few steps, the crossing appeared manageable. Water swirled around their legs, and the carriage wheels struck the submerged stones beneath the current.

Then the riverbed dropped.

One gulather stumbled.

The other pulled against the harness, twisting the carriage sideways. Water struck the doors with a heavy blow. The rear wheels lifted from the stones and shifted downstream.

Fateese seized the edge of his seat.

The driver shouted and pulled at the reins.

The gulathers struggled for footing, but the current pushed harder. One animal’s head dipped toward the water before it recovered.

The carriage lifted again. For one alarming moment, it floated.

Delrona opened the green travelling case.

Inside, fitted into individual velvet hollows, rested nine Sylvan power crystals. Their purple surfaces were clear and flawless, each cut into a long, narrow shape surrounded by bands of silver.

She selected one.

Delrona closed her eyes and held the crystal between both hands. She began moving it in a slow circle.

Purple light gathered within the stone.

At first, nothing changed.

Then the rainwater running across the carriage windows began bending toward the crystal.

Outside, the river shifted.

Water pulled away from the gulathers in a widening circle. It did not vanish. It rose along either side of them, forming two uneven walls of churning brown water. Branches, foam and stones moved within those walls, held away by a force Fateese could neither see nor understand.

Beneath the carriage, the riverbed emerged.

The gulathers found the stones and lunged forward.

Delrona continued rotating the crystal. Her jaw tightened with effort. Fine purple light travelled from the stone across her fingers and disappeared beneath the sleeves of her robe.

The divided water advanced with them.

Behind the carriage, it crashed back into place with enough force to shake the vehicle. Ahead, the current peeled apart just before it reached the gulathers.

The driver did not look to either side.

He urged the team forward until the wheels climbed the opposite bank.

The moment the carriage reached level ground, Delrona lowered the crystal.

The walls of water collapsed.

The river resumed its violent course as though nothing had interrupted it. For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Fateese realized that he had been holding his breath. He slowly released the edge of his seat and sat back.

“Sure glad I am travelling with you.”

Delrona returned the crystal to its velvet hollow.

“You should be grateful that I remembered my bag.”

Fateese looked at her. “You didn’t remember it actually.”

Delrona closed the case. “The important thing is that it is here.”

The remainder of the journey was uneventful by comparison.

The rain weakened during the night, and two days later the first towers of the Mystral Archive capital Lower Helion appeared above the northern plains.

Thy Quest: Leadership or Control?
Delrona dismisses the innkeeper’s warning and pressures the driver to enter the flooded river, but she later uses her own power to save the carriage. What does this sequence reveal about the difference between leadership and control? Use two details from the chapter to support your answer.