A Court of Deception

1

The boy, all grown up, hurried through the halls of Noah Court in his finest robe and sandals. The court’s staff darted out of the way as they would a flaming cannonball. He approached the court—his court, perhaps in name only. Guards saluted him on approach and in his wake.

The entrance chamber’s soaring arches were a taste of the court itself. Even empty. An elven lady in a white silk robe smiled and pulled the double doors open. She stopped him with a hand on his wrist and squeezed, “They’re waiting for you. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The boy looked as if he wanted to say something but straightened his robe and stepped inside.

The room was huge, enough to hold two hundred people although it rarely did, rows of benches descended to a speaker’s plinth. Behind them, open arches let in the afternoon sunshine—a guard’s nightmare. But I was forgetting that the war’s been over for a long time. The room was empty, save for a single figure, leaning against a column, backlit by the evening sun. I’d say magnificent but that wouldn’t do the scene justice.

The boy approached and the magician was sure he’d be recognised immediately. He was today’s topic of conversationto put it lightly. The boy had never known his name, but that wasn’t important just yet. He would know it soon.

“You!” The boy’s words were harsh and abrupt a deeper version than he recalled. “Why are you here? And where is everyone?”

The magician didn’t move a muscle as the boy joined him among the columns. He wasn’t immortal, but the boywouldn’t kill him, no that would just ruin his case.

Beyond the grounds and the city, grassy plains stretched from the city walls to the mountains in the distance. They’dfed those grasses with the blood of armies. Elves and humans alike. A magician or two as well.

“Why?” He said, turning to the boy, “You thought I’d sit back and watch you tear us apart, curse my names to the crowds. An invite would have been much appreciated.”

The boy clenched his hands, “What did you do with them all?”

The magician laughed. “Boy, I didn’t do anything with them. You’re…” he squinted out at the sun, “At least an hour too early.”

The boy shook his head, “But Eloria, she…”

“Yes, and we have to talk. Now.”

“I have a hearing to prepare for.” The boy’s hand touched the hilt of his short sword. “Tell me, old man, why you’rehere. Do you make it easier for them to hunt you down when you’re convicted or have you come to defend yourself.”

“You believe yourself a hero,” the magician said. He rubbed his grey beard, “But your story is over, you’re looking for trouble.”

The boy was quiet.

“The wars dead and gone,” The magician said, “And you’ve set your sights on the magicians. The storytellers and the theatre. Where do you stop? What about the herbalists, surely not all that they claim is true. Eloria. Is she next?”

The boy’s face darkened, “This is about what you did to me, and what you do to others, don’t twist it back on me.”

The magician failed to stop the smile that spread across his face, “You’re a politician, what part of what you just said applies to you? Some claim that nothing but your blue blood got you where you are.”

Two stilted movements of the boy’s arms pressed the tip of his shortsword against the Magician’s chest.

“Why should I listen to you? Maybe you don’t kill, but you’ve caused death, sit around for this hearing and you might even find out what you’ve done, if not directly. And if you’re here to kill me, that will only seal your fate. Eloria knows everything I do—.”

“That,” the magician said, taking the blade between his finger and thumb, “Is exactly why I am here. You have me wrong, you have the others wrong but most of all, and perhaps most importantly, you have yourself wrong. You see storytelling is not fraud, and I can—”

“And you can do what, old man? Influence the courts in your favour? How much do they pay you for that? Pit people against me in there. I see your work everywhere.”

“You think I’m a fraud? That I have no power,” the magician said, rubbing at his bald temple with his free hand, “What about your dream last night, the one about your father? Or what about your fear that Eloria only likes you for your power?”

“How did you— No never mind. Just…”

“We will not fight,” the Magician said, releasing the blade, “But we’ll walk, and you’ll come because if nothing else, you’d like to know why I do what I do. Why I did what I did to you.”

The magician took the wide steps downwards onto the grounds. The Court itself was set above the sprawling settlement on its own shelf of rock but the long grasses gave the illusion that it stood alone in the vast plains.

“Where are we going? I give you until the sun touches the horizon.”

The Magician made his way down the path a gaping crack in the grasses. He turned to the Boy.

“What is that?” the boy said, “I’ve never seen it and I’ve been down here dozens of times.”

“I think it’s time we introduce ourselves properly,” The Magician said extending a wrinkled hand, “And you have nothing to worry about. After all, I’m just a fraud.”

“I didn’t say you had no power, just that it is built on pretence. I’ll never trust you.”

“I’m Gardoor,” the magician said.

“I’m Noah,” the boy ignored Gardoor’s hand and led the way down the steps, “And I’m only doing this because I want to know just how deep your treachery lies.”

Gardoor smiled and followed him down. He was surely proud enough to have the entire place named after him. Even I, Gardoor, the magician, the great, have enough humility to resist that temptation.

Gradually the bright summer’s day was blotted out by the darkness. The steps grew slippery and wet with mud and a light breeze carried a misting rain.

They stepped out into a different world, in some sense of the idea. It was raining and the inn, a ramshackle rotten thing,leaked the only light through cracks in its walls. Voices came from within but were soon covered by the sounds of hooves on mud.

There was something like surprise on the boy’s face but he quickly hid it, “Your tricks don’t work on—”

Noah’s attention was on the horserider. Through the rain and mud, a slim boy slid from a horse that was so black it almost blended in against the dark wall behind.

The boy entered the inn.

Noah turned to Gardoor. “You’re a fool if you think this will work on me.” He turned and followed the newcomer into the inn.”

And the boy was surely a fool to think that he was above a performance. And Gardoor was the greatest performer in the land.

2

Gardoor the Great was only a magician by the faintest of definitions but there was little competition these days and, given a little bit of flair, he could briefly grasp what his predecessors had done. His blood was red, not blue like the royals. There would be nobody sweeping the floor before his feet however powerful he was.

And so he waited, let the room beyond the door grow quiet, the loud chatter turning to muttered words and whispers.

He swept into the room in a single movement, the grey cloak that hung all around him discussing his intricate footwork.

In the light of countless candles and a roaring fireplace, the patrons watched him. The locals gasped and hissed at each other and the mercenaries, of which there were many, just watched warily. Gardoor the Great pretended not to notice and sidled up the bar.

In the corner of the room, only one person stood out. The boy, as he would now call him was barely more than a set of bones dressed up nicely. His tunic was adorned with white lace despite the muddy conditions and his coat was a deep blue. And he was loudly boasting to the man opposite him.

Something twisted his ear painfully and he yelped.

“Two.” He said between gritted teeth and turned to face Alice, rubbing his poor ear lobe. At the sight of her bare forearms, he was suddenly glad that it had only been a pinch and not a slap.

She gave him a smile that was a little too warm. Some might have taken it as an invitation but from her, it was something close to sarcasm. She pushed two mugs of ale across the counter towards him.

“Why thank you,” he said, reaching for them and placing two coins down on the counter. Then, judging the slight souring of expression, doubled them.

“No trouble tonight,” she said and winked at him before turning away.

Gardoor shook his head in disbelief. He might be a graduate of the Magician’s guild, famous in all of the lands butAlice, the bartender still treated him like a misbehaving pup. Still, it seemed to ease the others into his presence andthey were already reingrossed in their conversations. Maybe she was better at this than he gave her credit for.

He turned and found himself face to face-with two mercenaries. One was tall and lanky as if he hadn’t quite left his youthful years and the other had filled out enough to weight double the first.

The former gripped his forearm tightly and grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Leave some for the rest of us.”

The lanky one laughed and Gardoor felt inclined to smile politely.

“What brings a famed magician to these parts,” the burly one said, “Gardoor the Great if I’m not mistaken.”

“Ah,” Gardoor said, giving them a knowing smile, “If I told you all my secrets, I wouldn’t be much of a magicianwould I?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to continue but Gardoor nodded to both of them, “It was nice to meet you,” and stepped between them.

Gardoor placed both mugs on the boy’s table and slid into place opposite him.

The boy stared at him for a moment then at the mug and shrugged, clinking cups with him before taking a long drink.

“What do you want?” the boy said, running a finger along the contours of the glaze, “Because I’m sick of people asking me to protect their farm, protect their crop or fight for the good of the village.”

Gardoor laughed. “I don’t want your protection even if you could hold that sword without the point wobbling. And before you ask I can neither help you with that nor solve the rest of your problems with the wave of a hand.”

“I…” The boy paused, “That wasn’t at all what I was going to ask.”

“Then what were you going to ask?”

He paused again, this time for longer, followed by a quick look around the room as if to see if anyone was paying them any attention. Gardoor resisted the urge to copy, as doing so might draw even more attention. The boy needed to learn to be more discreet, but that was hardly his lesson to teach. Well, it might be, but he could hardly believe that the guild would send him here for just that when they were already stretched so thin.

“Your coat,” the boy finally said, “You haven’t taken it off yet.”

Gardoor blinked and looked down. “Gosh, yes, you’re right. Slightly confused, he straightened from the table and proceeded to remove both layers of coats down to his dry shirt sleeve. Then, with the corner of one of them dried the pool of water on the seat before replacing him opposite the boy.

“Where were we?”

“What would you do?” The boy said, his voice low, “If you thought the world rested on your shoulders. HypotheticallyI mean.”

Gardoor suppressed a grin and scrunched up his nose, “Hypothetically? Why boy, the world does indeed rest upon my shoulders.” The words were far closer to the truth than he’d have wished but there was no changing one’s fate.

The boy sat back, “The kings need our help and all of them…” he gestured around, “Sit back and complain about how hard done by they are. And it’s not because the royals aren’t fat enough already but because without them, the peace treaty will never be signed And I am damned sure that people are willing to give everything to stop them.”

It was close enough to the truth. If the treaties weren’t signed in blue blood, they were as good as ashes and the war would soon return. That was why he was here, and perhaps also why the boy was too.

“How can you say that, the elves want peace now as much as us, or else they wouldn’t have stopped killing us.”

“They’re everywhere,” the boy said grinding his teeth, hands shaking, “The ones that think the elves are evil that they’re vermin to be slaughtered. They don’t want the war to end, for fear that we might have to one day live among them.” He brought the cup down on the table and it shattered immediately splashing mead and pieces of pottery over both of them.

Gardoor sighed and glanced up to find the whole bar staring at them, with Alice’s firm gaze the strongest.

He turned back to the boy who was picking up the pieces. A smear of blood ran down his wrist and Gardoor cursed. It was as blue as he was red. So that it almost glowed.

“Shit,” he muttered and swallowed hard. Why couldn’t the guild have warned him about this?

“Just…” he pushed the boy's hand away and stood up, “Wait here.”

Gardoor pulled the boy’s sword from his scabbard and the room fell silent for a second time. He grinned despite his unease. This wasn’t part of the plan or even one of the five backup plans, but he had to do something to distract them.

“I am Gardoor the Great!” he called, swinging the sword around in a wobbly stance that his teachers would have hung him for. “I bet it is a long time since you’ve seen an official dual!”

“Honey,” Alice said, stepping around the bar, “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Gardoor waved her away and glanced around the room. He’d successfully pulled everyone’s attention away from the boy who’d had the grace to slip from the room save for the two men he’d spoken to before. They were ignoring him and in deep conversation at the other end of the bar.

“You!” He called and they looked up as one, “A duel!”

They both glanced at each other and dropped their hands to their swords before Alice cut between them.

“There will be no fighting in here!” She gently knocked Gardoor’s blade aside and brought her hand down on his wrist. The length of steel clanged to the floor and he doubled over in pain. Real pain.

Alice grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, “Magician or no, I won’t have you disrupting the peace.”

She took him by the arm and pulled him towards the door. Gardoor glanced back at the boy who was avoiding his gaze, cut hand firmly tucked behind his coat.

He let her lead him into the hallway. As soon as the door closed behind her, she dropped his arm and ran a finger through her hair.

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, “But did you have to do that?”

She shrugged, “You’re getting weak old man. And besides, they’re all mercenaries, they know trickery when they see it.”

“I just hope it did the trick, kept their attention away.”

Alice nodded to the doorway as it opened, “This will soon be over anyway. Lou, is that—”

“Yes, I’m here,” he said, pushing the door shut against the rain and darkness, “Any updates?”

Gardoor shook his head, “He’ll follow like a lamb, but… don’t let him show his blood in that room or it will all be over rather quickly.”

“What do you… Oh, he’s one of them.”

Gardoor nodded, “I should have known.”

“Never mind,” Lou said and pulled the cowl of his cloak down revealing a grizzled middle-aged man who might even pass for a mercenary. He smiled at them and pushed through into the bar.

“Good luck,” Gardoor said and squeezed Alice’s forearm before stepping back out into the rain. He half expected her to twist his ear in response.

3

Gardoor’s cloak was soaked through in minutes as he traversed the village. He kept a keen eye on the mercenary camp, a sprawling marsh of mud and dirty canvas on what had once been the village green. But he couldn’t fault them completely, the village had remained largely untouched since the truce where others had been looted and burned. And yet there was a strange tension in the air. The villagers tolerated the soldiers and vice versa. It was as if a spark could set the whole place alight. “Not in this weather,” Gardoor said under his breath.

Smoke hung in the air between wooden houses, stables and the occasional workshop. He turned off the main street and down a side alley past stables and workshops until he reached the very end. A shadowy figure crouched against two large double doors, a pipe glowing softly in their hand. They straightened as he approached and peered into the darkness.

“Just me,” Gardoor said, stepping under the eaves. The figure revealed a lantern from under a dark cloth and held it up.

“In this rain,” a woman said, “You can’t tell a pig from a magician.”

That was Audry. Even with the artful language.

“There’s less difference than you’d expect,” he said and pushed through the large barn doors.

A wall of heat hit him as he pulled the door closed to the night. A dozen people looked up from their workstations,positioned around a large carriage. A smaller one stood off to the side where its wheels were being reinstalled.

“Evening, fellows,” he said glancing around approvingly. They had made good progress on the second cart and it eased his belly that it would soon be supporting its weight.

The larger of the two had been custom-built by the same crew that now worked on the smaller of the two, his crew. Other magicians would call them underlings but that had always seemed a little too close to how royals treated their servants. These were his friends. Perhaps his only friends.

To each side of his wagon, large compartments held a forge, a hand-powered laith and various other tools and materials. The canvas upper was rolled back to reveal even more materials, which were almost impossible to find so close to the battlefields.

Gardoor hung his coat beside the forge and inspected the smaller cart. Rick, one of his carpenters was carefully sawing into the spokes of the last wheel to go on, moving around as he did so. The others were doing similar things to the structure of the rest of the cart.

“Progress?”

Rick looked up and grimaced. “Boss, your estimates are too broad. What I’m doing here… If this cart rolls along that track ten paces too long, the whole damn thing will fall apart. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Make it work,” he said, stepping over the wheel and peering into it. The window had been replaced with thick wooden bars fastened on the outside and reinforced with strips of metal. The front of the cart was stained black. Of course, most of this wasn’t necessary for it to be effective, anyone trapped inside of the cart was unlikely to start considering why the cart’s designer hadn’t gone to more effort cushioning the interior but he was more than a simple magician, he was Gardoor the Great.

All of this for one boy. It was a lot of work. For him and his crew. But it would work. It always did. At the very least, his rescue would do the job just as much as all of the rest of it would but this was an art form. Otherwise, he’d have found another job long ago.

“Rick! Where is the catapult?”

“Sir! It’s finished and packed up in your wagon ready for transport to the woods. The rocks were too heavy so we changed them out for wooden ones and pained them. This will also make it safer.”

Gardoor grunted. Rocks. Magicians didn’t use rocks, did they? Hell, someone with power wouldn’t break in without a grand entrance. And in this weather, he’d be lucky if the boy even saw what happened. Perhaps he’d even think that the cart had simply hit a tree.

“What about the ceramic ones? With the lamp oil. I want fire!”

Rick stood up and dusted off his leather vest, “Boss, we don’t have nearly enough. And there is no place around here to get anymore.”

“Fire,” he said curtly, “I said fire and I mean fire. This might be the most important job we’ve ever had.”

Rick met his gaze without backing down, “Tell me where to get it and I’ll get it. Otherwise, I’d rather finish this wheel.”

Gardoor paused for a few moments then wrinkled his nose. Again it was not essential, but this was to be the defining moment of his career, or it could be. “The mercenaries will have it,” he said finally, “or the town guard.”

“The guard consists of a dozen men and woman with bows and the mercenaries… They’re our enemies! They would kill us all if they knew what we were up to.”

Gardoor set his mouth in a fine line. “I don’t care how you do it, but get that done. There has to be fire.”

4

“We’re being followed.”

Gardoor silently wished for the warmth of the barn as he and Alice crouched among the mossy roots of pine trees, peering into the darkness. The misting rain hadn’t let up the entire evening and his coat was already soaked through.

“We’re always being followed,” he returned, “I don’t remember a job where I didn’t catch a few stragglers, hoping to see something of a spectacle.” And tonight they would get one indeed.

“Gar,” she said, “This is different, pick your big head out of the mud and look behind you for once. As far as we know, those mercenaries sent people after us.”

“They have no reason to,” he hissed squinting into the distance. The road, just visible through the trees was brighter than the rest of the forest, the puddles glinting slightly.

“This is wartime,” she said, “And even if it were not, I wouldn’t trust them with a fly.”

Gardoor glanced away with a sigh and put a hand on the woman’s huge shoulder. She no longer wore the dress of a bartender and instead wore leather body armour, so that he felt like he was placing his hand on a bear’s shoulder.

It was comforting though and this was the point where he always doubted himself, wondering if he’d gone a little too far. Maybe this time he would fail, and be exposed for fraud.

And if anyone figured out how he did it all, they’d probably leave him alive out of pity, wondering why the guild had left such an excuse for a Magician out of their sight.

“After this,” he said slowly, “We’ll take a break. This is important. Like, world-saving is important and if that boydoesn’t learn to stop trusting every stranger he sees, he’ll be mince meat before he even gets anywhere near the Court to sign the treaties. Gods, did you see how much he revealed—”

The clop of horse hooves on hard-packed stones came to his ears and he spun, cursing. He was just in time to see two figures on horseback pass by his line of sight.

“..The children, you see sir,” one of them was saying, “They’re sick and if I don’t get them to the town quick enough…”

Gardoor needed no more of a sign. “Go!” he hissed at Alice. For her size, she moved away without a sound but not before shaking her head at him. This was it. The big moment, well, rather one of the big moments.

As ever, Gardoor felt the tension begin at the seat of his stomach. It wasn’t anxiety so much as excitement. This was a performance week in the making. And it was all worth it for this.

“I need a better view,” he said straightening. In moments, Rick appeared, leading a black mare through the closely packed trees.

“Wait here,” Gardoor said to him, “But be ready to go as soon as I return.”

He didn’t wait for the woodworker’s reply as he dashed off through the trees, no longer caring about the noise he was making. Soon it wouldn’t matter. A low rumble rose in the distance and grew closer by the second. Gardoor’s heart picked up pace to match it.

Suddenly the trees thinned out and he was running alongside the road. Up ahead, the two riders had stopped and wereconversing in low but anxious voices. The one on the white mare kept looking back down the road towards the source of the rumble.

“How far is this house of yours?” A familiar young voice said, the boy’s, “I wasn’t aware there were many people thatlived north of the town.”

There was no answer but as Gardoor watched, something dark shifted and there was a sharp crack. The boy doubled over, sliding slowly out of his saddle.

The second figure was already on the ground and caught him as he fell. His laugh was low like one might expect from a turncoat. Or a mercenary for that matter. He fumbled with a rope.

“Help!” The boy’s cry was high and Gardoor winced. It wouldn’t do if he’d broken a rib or two. Still, he remained where he was. His time would come.

The rumbling sound materialised into a black carriage pulled by two geldings, heads tossing wildly. It came to a stop beside the boy and the man who must have gagged the poor thing.

“Action,” Gardoor muttered and backed away until he was far enough to start running again.

Rick waited where he’d been minutes before, hands on the reins.

“If you can catch the boy’s horse,” Gardoor said in a low voice, “Do it, I might need to lend him one of mine after this. It will offset the price.”

“Sir,” Rick said earnestly, “Of course, but you have to know that we spotted several figures further down the track.”

“It’s a road!” Gardoor said shooting the man a grin, “People use roads.”

“I’ll get the horse then.”

“Better do.”

Before he could hear one more word of worry from the man, Gardoor was off, weaving in and out of the trees before landing with a splash and clatter of hooves on the road proper.

He glanced back the way they’d come but he could see nobody at all. It was dark, admittedly, but surely anybody at this time would carry a light source. He ignored the fact that he wasn’t either.

The rumble started up in the distance and he spurred his horse into a trot. There was no point using up all the animal’senergy just yet. Let the boy experience what it was like to be a prisoner, to consider that he might never see his blue-blooded family again and the sudden realisation that he bled just as much as anyone else, even if the stains were different.

Despite the bumpy road, the black carriage was moving so fast that, lest he lose sight of it, he spurred his mare into a gallop. The stones and puddles passed like a sea beneath him and his joints hurt as he focused on matching his rhythm with the beast’s.

He caught up with the carriage so that he was a bare hundred paces behind it and waited for the sign. There! A white distance marker at the side of the road had ten black slashes through it. His heart beat faster and faster.

The man driving the carriage was shouting over the din of creaking wood, hooves and the wheels on the road. Then outof nowhere, an arrow struck the vehicle.

One of the horses screamed and yanked to one side, sending the carriage teetering on one wheel. Gardoor gritted his teeth as the wheel strained and… Held. He sighed with relief but then a dozen more arrows thunked into the wood of the carriage.

“We’re being attacked!” somebody shouted.

Another muffled cry from within must have been the boy but Gardoor was already upon the vehicle, silently praying that the archers were out of arrows, lest one pin him to the side of the damned thing.

And…

There was a whistle as something big whizzed through the air, snapping branches in its wake. Gardoor pulled sharply on the reins just before it struck the carriage.

There was a splintering crash as the side of the vehicle splintered, the wheels slipping sideways and then a roar of light and heat. Gardoor’s horse screamed and bucked and he felt a searing pain on his exposed calf as the flames ballooned outwards. He lost his hold on the beast and tumbled through the air, unable to see where he was going. He slammed into something cold and hard, arm grinding against the hard-packed earth.

Stars danced in his vision as he pushed himself up off the ground. The carriage was in ruins, with only two walls still intact and half swallowed by an inferno that was quickly licking up the wood towards a figure huddling at the back.

“Too much damned fire,” he muttered then let out a laugh. He never thought he’d have said that. He hobbled over to the remains. The two men who’d been driving lay off to the side, unmoving and the horses were nowhere to be seen. Good.

He climbed up onto the wreckage and swept his big grey cloak around himself. This was it.

In big strides that hurt his side, he leapt through the fire and onto what had been the floor of the carriage. It creaked and groaned more than it should have but held.

The heat was so intense that his face was slick with sweat already. A second muffled cry came from the corner where the bound and gagged boy lay.

He made sure not to be too quick about it but stepped up to the boy and lifted his chin. “Boy,” he said, feigning surprise. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of this mess.”

In a few quick strokes of his blade, the bonds were cut and the boy rose to almost Gardoor’s height, pulling the gag from his mouth.

He spat on the floor and then coughed. “You?”

Gardoor didn’t answer but walked back up the burning wreckage which now almost surrounded them.

“You’re… one of them, aren’t you? A magician I mean.”

Gardoor turned, the fire rising higher behind him, almost silhouetting him against the dark forest, “Boy, there are many things you must learn and you won’t learn any of them if you get yourself killed beforehand. Did anyone ever tell you that following someone into the forest was a good idea?”

“I was just—”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, “I don’t have time for all of this. I can’t waste my entire night saving boys from bounty hunters or whomever they were.”

The boy hurried to catch up and leapt back out of the flames with him.

“Is that what they were? Did you kill—” He cut off as they rounded the wreckage and came given the two motionless men.

“Bastards,” he said and began to draw his sword.

“Wait!”

The boy turned, face dark, “They were going to kill me!”

“They were going to sell you and whatever information you have that makes you important,” Gardoor said quietly, “A dead man is a dead man, stabbing him again won’t help you.”

The boy relaxed slightly but didn’t sheath his blade. He turned back to Gardoor, “What about the others?”

He laughed and silently cursed his underlings. “There were just two. You’re just getting jumpy.”

“No,” the boy said, pointing, “Just there, beyond the trees.”

5

The light from the fire had died down but still burnt despite the damp air and provided the only light. The boy stood, feet shoulder-width apart, sword held out before him, the point wobbling slightly.

It pointed at a burly figure standing at the edge of the firelight, dressed in black with a fur coat over his shoulders that might have come from a bear. Beside and behind him stood a slimmer, lanky figure. They both carried no weapon that Gardoor could see but that didn’t mean anything. He silently cursed himself for ignoring Alice and Rick’s warnings of spectators, they had the potential to ruin all of this if they’d seen how he’d done the fire.

“Good evening,” Gardoor said, forcing himself to relax, to clasp his hands before him. Perhaps this was the real challenge of the night. Though whether it was his fault or the boy’s that they were here was irrelevant.

“Magician,” the man said, “It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been interested in your kind for a while. My employers have also.”

“Curiosity can get you in trouble,” Gardoor said quietly, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder in case there was more sneaking up from behind.

“Indeed.” The man took a step forward so his whole body was lit by the dancing flames. His skin was pale like that of the mountain folk and he was built as if he’d spent his former decades lifting trees for a living. It was indeed the sameburly figure from the inn the night before. The one he’d challenged to a dual.

“I have an offer,” the man said, a smile creeping up his cheeks. He swung his arms wide gesturing to the forest around them, “We are many, and we are searching for that boy, give him to us and you can carry on your merry way, teaching the world all the lessons that you like.”

The boy tensed and glanced around him, sword point falling slightly. Gardoor resisted the urge to do the same but from the corners of his vision, he caught glimpses of dull crossbow bolts just beyond the firelight. Well, perhaps this would be a bigger problem after all.

Gardoor shook his head, “You may not have the boy, and I suggest you don’t try to take him. Not unless you like death by fire. Or water? I can do water as well.”

“Then we might have a problem,” the burly man’s voice was so low that it was barely audible above the pattering of the rain. “Because my job is to get that boy and you stand between us, therefore I’m going to have to kill you.”

Gardoor’s stomach twisted and he took the opportunity to look around. Behind him, the mercenaries had advanced to the burning carriage, each of them holding a sword or crossbow. It would only take two bolts and they’d both be down.

The boy laughed suddenly, “You think you can take a magician?” he said gesturing with the tip of his blade at the man,“You’ll need three hundred men, not a dozen.”

“Boy…” Gardoor warned.

The man’s smile was back and he took another step forward, this time addressing the boy. “You see,” he gestured to Gardoor, “I don’t believe he’s a real magician at all—”

“The fire, can you not—”

“The fire,” the man cut in, “The fire indeed. That might be his undoing. You see, I left you alone back there because I was wary of him. But when a stranger requested to buy all the lamp oil that we had, I began to wonder. And then when he rescued you from apparent death, the fire just sprouted out of his hands… Or did you even see it.”

The boy glanced at Gardoor, “No, I mean. He is a magician.”

Gardoor sighed and looked at the boy. The guild was going to strip him of his title for this.

“You are a magician, aren’t you?”

Gardoor grunted, “I’m the one who’s keeping you alive right now, so shut up.”

The boy’s sword turned on him but he ignored it. “Boys! Get up, as you might be aware, we have a problem.”

The boy looked at him confused until the two men on the floor, with faces in bloody puddles rolled over and straightened in smooth movements. They both met Gardoor’s gaze and drew their swords. Mat and Lou. He silently wished that one of them was Alice instead, she was the real fighter among them.

“What?” the boy said.

Gardoor put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re on our side. And I know I’ll never be able to explain this to you, so forgive me for this one.”

The two men flanked him and the boy. Twelve to one odds. Slightly better.

“You’re a fraud,” the boy said, “You—”

“What a lovely meeting,” the Mercenary said, “How I love such situations. Now, drop your weapons or three of you will have bolts in your hearts immediately. The boy’s mine.”

“They’ll kill us anyway,” Gardoor said and drew his sword. With his other hand, he drew a horn and pressed it to his lips.

“Don’t—”

The mercenary’s voice was cut off as the horn sounded through the forest.

“Archers!” He called, “Don’t hit the boy! Kill the others! On my count…”

Something whistled through the air, dull grey glinting in the firelight for a moment before a rock the size of a wagon wheel smashed into the mercenary, driving him into the next man.

“Get behind cover!” Gardoor grabbed the boy and dived back through the flames into the burning vehicle as crossbows twanged. The wagon driver, his real name Tom, almost reached them when his neck sprouted a steelhead and he coughed out blood and collapsed in a heap before the flames.

Gardoor turned away, eyes stinging.

You should go,” he said to the boy, “This place isn’t safe for you.”

“You’re a fraud,” the boy whispered, “You tricked me.”

Gardoor sighed, knowing, deep down that this wouldn’t be the end of the tale. The boy, if he made it to the Court alivewould have something to say about him and his guild. Still, he silently prayed that he would make it, that he would be there to sign the treaty, blue-blooded as he was.

Outside the flames, it descended into a chaos of shouting and screaming. Then sounds of hoofs as a horse leapt over the flames. Alice slid off its back, sword in hand. A crossbow bolt jammed between two plates of hardened leather. She grinned at them.

Gardoor gestured to the boy, “He’s to take it.” Then he turned back, “Go, boy, they’ve only bought us a few seconds.”

He felt something sharp touch his back through his cloak.

“I should kill you right here,” the boy said, suddenly not sounding like a boy anymore.

“Fix that stance of yours and you might have a chance,” Gardoor said, checking the saddle was securely fastened.

“I hate you,” the boy said leaping up and sheathing his sword, “One day you’ll pay for this.” Then he was gone, the white mare disappearing through the flames.

6

And at that moment, looking at Noah’s face crouched there beside his younger self, I feared that I’d once again failed. That he’d return to his court and continue his crusade against the fringes of society.

Gardoor the Great straightened, dusting off his grey cloak. “Boys! Ladies! That’s a wrap.”

The words cut through the night like a whip and everything fell away before them. All around them, the mercenaries slung crossbows over their shoulders and stepped into the light. The pattering rain stopped and the wagon driver, Bill who’d already died twice straightened and rubbed blood from his chin.

Noah remained crouched for a while longer, staring at the place in the flames where his younger self had galloped off into the night. Gardoor let him pat his crew on the back and gave Tom a silent prayer. He’d learnt something back thenwhen he’d first failed to hold up his charade, his performance. When Tom had died. That explaining a trick didn’talways change its effect. Although nobody knew it, showing Noah this was the real lesson, the real performance.

Noah’s eyes followed the once attackers carrying buckets of water towards the fire, to the crew of people dragging a catapult out from behind the trees.

Gardoor gently led him away from the light of the fires and onto the road. A dozen steps beyond they reached a stone wall, painted to look as if the road continued. A small archway opened onto a set of rough-hewn steps.

Gardoor led the way.

They emerged onto the grounds of the Court, the grasses swaying for as far as he could see, the building itself golden in the sunset.

Noah stopped as soon as he stepped back onto the grass.

“What was the lesson this time? And why break the performance like that?”

The Magician looked out over the plains and wiped a drip from his chin. He was thoroughly soaked through.

“I wanted to show you what I see,” The Magician said, “What Gardoor saw when you were just a boy and I was a younger man. And more than that, to understand me.”

“But you failed, I realised that you were a fake, that all of your kind just rely on tricks to make your money. I don’t see your point if you want me to trust…”

Gardoor raised an eyebrow and Noah’s face worked as they walked among the grasses.

“Right,” Noah said, “You didn’t need me to trust you. Perhaps you didn’t even want me to.”

“Those mercenaries were not on my payroll, and if not for them… Well it doesn’t matter, you learned not to trust so easily. I hoped that at least. The real Tom died that night fighting to keep you alive, to make the world today possible. More of us might have died for you too.”

Noah turned to him, and suddenly he wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man. A man who’d been through a lot. “But you keep doing this anyway?”

The magician smiled sadly, “Sometimes the cost of a lesson is greater than one expected.”

“I get it,” Noah said quietly, “I get why you did it back then, but why all this? You have money enough to elude captureeven if the whole world is out to get you.”

“You humble me,” Gardiner said, “This is a joint production. Many of the actors were magicians. They all understand how important it is.”

“That I don’t expose you all to the world?”

Gardoor sighed, “It’s always about the story, the lesson. When I was standing there, in real danger of dying, with you beside me, I had a choice to—”

“…Make,” The boy continued, “You had to choose between your reputation and what was right. You gave up everything you’d built just to teach me that lesson.”

The Magician pulled a step of grass and wrapped it around his fingers. “This isn’t about me, although I might pretend that it is, I want you to know the difference between what you want and what’s right.”

Noah didn’t answer, turning to watch the sun as it neared the horizon. “If I’d not reached this place,” he said, “The war might not have been stopped. If you’d not betrayed my trust, I might have fallen into an easy trap. That day did shake me. Perhaps, cruelly, it’s what got me here to where I am today. You can tell them that at the…”

He turned to the magician but the man was gone, only the twisted stalks of grass landing on the boy’s outstretched hand to prove that he’d been there at all. The grass by his feet was unbroken.

“Noah!”

Eloria’s bright voice called to him from the steps up to the court.

“Noah, they’re waiting for you.”

Noah picked up his pace through the grass and stopped. There was no sign of the crack or the steps leading down. He rubbed his forehead.

The boy, the one with a court named after him glanced back at the setting sun, “You devious old man.”

I knew at that moment that our story was over, our paths diverging one last time. That, just like all good lessons, his memories of me would fade until they were indistinguishable from a dream. Perhaps it had been one all along.