Silver in Eillen 5: Thinking Makes It So
“Why then, ‘tis none to you; for there is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
- Hamlet, Shakespeare’s Hamlet
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As if Vespasian weren’t already galvanized by the situation, the day of his departure dawned bright and clear with only a few silky white clouds rushing away towards the horizon. He’d managed to organize the party in record time, in part because it consisted almost entirely of his own men, led by Rynar, who had been captain of the guard for his father before him, ever since Vespasian was a small boy.
The ‘almost’ however, was cause for some irritation. Vespasian didn’t quite dare give his all to trying to leave the Magician behind - more for fear that someone along the line would interpret it as weakness, than because there was a gleam in Venturos’ eye that suggested he might cause trouble if it suited him - so, like a strange, gaunt bird with his blue cloak flapping a bit against the saddle behind him when the breeze picked up, the magician rode out at the head of the party immediately to Vespasian’s left.
It was a three-day journey to Eillen - four, in bad weather - and the first morning passed quietly. There were the usual noises - talking, the clink and scrape of gear, the whuffing and slapping hooves of horses, and the occasional rustling of a field or woodland creature as it got hurriedly out of the way. Vespasian found himself listening closely for someone to come galloping up behind them to say that the Duke, one of the other lords, or someone, had changed their mind, and that they’d all better come back. But once they forded the river that separated the countryside near the capitol city from the wilder land surrounding it, he finally realized that such a summons was not about to come.
The thought was surprising, and, to an extent, freeing. For the first time since he had proposed the whole plan, he relaxed. He even smiled to himself, glad for once to be out from under the eye of the other lords, trusted to make his own decisions. The Duke might not know it, but he couldn’t have chosen a better man to lead this little expedition, for Vespasian, unlike the other nobility of Renua, had a good idea of how the Eillenians’ minds worked.
As the day continued on and the group made good time, Vespasian relaxed further, until, when they pitched camp and lit a handful of fires near the edge of a rolling meadow cropped short by sheep, he knew with a deep satisfaction that very little could go wrong.
He woke in the morning, unusually cheerful, and spent the morning talking to Rynar about Eillen. The guard captain had visited the state a few times, when Vespasian’s father had business interests there, and his memory was good at recalling the fine details. As a result, Vespasian felt very prepared to meet the Eillenians, and also very pleased with himself. He had, after all, gotten away with it, at least so far. And the Duke and other Lords were unlikely to understand the implications, or indeed to even notice what, exactly, he was doing…
Actually, the Duke was unlikely to notice anything unless it was expensive or female, or possibly both, though Vespasian could never be entirely sure on that score.
“If the Eillenians are anything like our Duke,” he said to his horse as it walked along at the head of the procession, “Fooling them will be easy.”
“Ah, but if they aren’t?”
Vespasian started - his horse huffed and flicked its ears back. Venturos and his horse were so close that he could have reached out and shoved them, without even leaning over, and he hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied in his own thoughts. And the magician was looking at him with an interest which was normally found only on the face of a magpie contemplating something pleasantly shiny, but too heavy for the bird to pick up. Immediately, Vespasian cursed himself for not being more aware of his surroundings - the old magician appeared to enjoy catching people off-guard.
“What do you mean, ‘if they aren’t?’” Vespasian replied coldly.
Venturos smiled. “A whole city full of people and you already know how they think,” he replied blandly, and Vespasian knew that there was sarcasm hidden in there, because if he’d said it himself there would have been. The fact that the magician was mocking him with his own forced mannerisms, and almost his own words, made him angry. But the Magician continued. “It is the height of arrogance to make assumptions about people you have never seen, much less met. And all it takes, in the end, is for one man to be cleverer than you.”
Vespasian knew who Venturos thought that man would be, but refused to be provoked. He wasn’t a child anymore. “All that it takes,” he replied in a voice that he kept even due to much practice, “Is for me to be cleverer than just a few other men.” He applied his heels to his horse’s sides, and it surged forward, breaking away from the company and glad of the change of pace. The horse, however, was not fast enough that Vespasian didn’t hear the magician’s reply.
“Ah, but if you aren’t?”