Chapter 5

  Clymere huffed in distaste at the sight of Pythion.

  It looks like half built mud huts and tents.

  From her covered palanquin she eyed up the city and its surroundings. Her home scarcely had any buildings that weren’t good stone and fine timber. Comparatively, Pythion was indeed a poor facsimile. Its spiderwebby streets (which she could discern even from a distance) were completely indecipherable to one who had grown up in straight alleys and square buildings. And there wasn’t much of a curtain wall, it was really more of a curtain berm.

  The witch was held aloft by two men in extremely conservative dress, with their himations draping all the way from the crown of their heads to below their knees. They moved in an even, practiced stride. The movement of the bearers were so smooth in fact that occasionally Clymere would daydream and, believing she was simply in a chair, would half get up to get a scroll from her family's library.

  Perhaps that's why I’m in a foul mood, the library was such a grand asset to my studies. What a waste of time, I could have figured out a solution to the dispersion issue already if I wasn’t sitting in this box. At least the nagging will stop once I get this fool's errand over.

  Closer and closer to the city her silent bearers carried her to the city at the foot of Mount Olympus. The wheat danced merrily in the fields and farmers plied their trade amongst them. To her right the sea crashed against the rocks, distant and quiet. If she hadn’t done so a hundred times already, Clymere might have considered closing her eyes and letting her mind trick itself into thinking she was at her island home. One couldn’t escape such noise on an island. The ocean had been with Clymere since she was a baby. It felt wrong to be away from it. Or at least as far as she had ever been from it.

  Add that to my foul mood list.

  As Mount Olympus came into view Clymere figured she should probably prepare soon. It wouldn’t do to give this a half try, and to look anything short of perfect would be a sin. Clymere closed her eyes briefly and reached out in her mind. All manner of spellery lurked in her mind but today she needed to use little but the most basic. She issued magical commands to a collection of trinkets on her person, hidden or otherwise. Priming, waking up and charging are all excellent verbs which all fail to fully communicate what her arcane workings did to the baubles of wood, bronze and witchcraft.

  Only two of these things made any outward sign that they were enchanted somehow. The first was a clicking and whirring watch the size of Clymere’s palm sprung to life. It was far from any normal timepiece. It had far more than two hands and an outside observer could hardly guess at what the witch gleaned from studying its face.

  Hm lets see. High cleverness, high shame, medium panic. Must be market time. Is this a regular level for this village, or is this a particularly busy time? I’ll have to wait and see. High disappointment, coupled with the high shame and isolated extreme pride, could be the entrants into the Lyceum. If there are entrant’s today, perhaps that Maron that Elphir mentions was in a good mood? Oh and what's this? High interest and calm in an area which is unlikely to be the Lyceum. The levels are very close to what I got around the library back home. I do hope there's one here. It would be a rather boring city otherwise.

  Clymere shook her head.

  Wait, why am I thinking of such things. I don’t plan on staying long and I mustn't get my hopes up. This is a futile task, a waste of my precious time. I’m a proud witch! Why must I scramble like a thousand other fools?

  The other ensorceled creation clicked and clattered underneath her chair. It sounded like a bag of sticks being jostled, but deeper somehow. Like a ship hull grinding against a dock, it had an odd sort of resonance.

  “Radvi my little man! Is that you?” The witch cooed.

  A small “head” poked out from underneath the chair. A lumpy bundle of wicker with two “eyes' ' made of walnut shells stared up at Clymere from between her legs, silent aside from its creaking.

  “Yes it is!” Cooed the witch once more, hauling Radvi up and placing the diminutive creature on her lap. It was a roughly child sized mass of wicker. Three long arms sprouted from its centre of mass, two where a normal human’s would be and a slightly smaller one just below his right arm. His legs were rather short and stubby. If one looked close enough to the stalks close to its core, they would see numerous runes carved on and deep into their surface.

  “We’re going to be at a place with a lot of people okay? Just like I said. You remember how to act in front of strangers right? The witch asked Radvi.

  In response the creature nodded, which sounded a bit like a dry tree being shaken in the wind, and wrapped its three arms around Clymere. After a moment of fussing with his peeling bark, she looked up at the town, which was less than a minute away. She could see a guard squaring up to meet her at the empty portal which was passing for a gate. He didn’t look very friendly. She flicked a glance at his arm, which was bandaged, though it was too far for her to make out much detail. She turned down to look at Radvi and pulled out a small copper mirror.

  “Watch closely Radvi,” Said the witch as she applied a long wing of eyeliner and dabbed some blush on her cheeks. “I think this guard is going to give us trouble.”

  True to her prediction, the guard waved the palanquin down a bit more aggressively than necessary and took a few steps forward away from the gate. The bearers made no outward sign of stopping until Clymere made a small chopping motion with her hand, then they halted so fast they slightly skied on the sandy road.

  “State your name and business.”

  Clymere elegantly opened a door flap of braided cedar bark on the side the guard was on and she fixed him with a calm look.

  “I am Clymere of Samos, Hecatoi, wise woman and aspirant. My business is thus in the Lyceum.”

  “Never heard of Samos. Sounds far off.”

  Never heard of Samos?! It’s a major trade hub! What could possibly-. Oh I got the stupid guard. Lovely. He probably got that cut peeling an apple or something.

  Clymere forced a small, refined smile.

  “It’s quite lovely and indeed far away. I would very much like to rest after my long journey.”

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  As soon as she said it she knew she would be delayed here. The guard rolled his eyes slightly, like you would when you were required to do something that you would really rather not to. Clymere had seen it on many a servants face.

  “All foreigners will need to submit to a search before they are allowed past the gates.”

  “A search?”

  “Yes, I’ll need you to step out of the palanquin.”

  A flare of irritation twisted in the witch's guts.

  “I am a sorcerer! A follower of Hecate. I am permitted to go where I please uninhibited.”

  “That was the rule before the Famine, rules change. Now get out”

  “I will not, I am not some vagabond that requires vetting.”

  Clymere watched a vein bulge on the man's forehead.

  “Look, bitch, you can get out of the box or I can take you out, your-”

  The man's sentence was cut short by his lips locking together. He started in alarm, and brushed his lips with his finger tips.

  “Ah, so not only a scholar, but refined on par with kings!” Said Clymere mockingly. She had closed her fist and a mote of green light shined through her hand. The guard took two steps back as he started to claw at his mouth, his eyes widening in alarm. She looked him dead in the eye.

  “Can I pass or do I need to cook you in your rags? She continued, glaring at the man intensely.

  Before either could answer the sound of an armoured man moving quickly drew their attention. The saw another guard, higher ranking if his armour was any indication moving swiftly to the other guard. He had no weapon draw, though he had a sword at his hip. Clymere’s other hand closed around a lump of coal etched in runes in a pouch at her side, readied in case he did draw.

  “Baccus, you fool!” He exclaimed, putting himself between the witch and his presumed underling.

  “Are you a witch, Miss? He asked, putting up his hands to show he meant no harm.

  Clymere said nothing but glanced at her glowing fist.

  “Right.” Said the guard. “Can you release my cousin please Anassa?* He is a fool and is new to being a guardsman. We, like all civilized city states, respect most of the Old Laws. I simply haven’t had time to fill this dolt in on all of them.”

  The guard had taken a half step towards Clymere and had almost pleaded his case rather than stated it. The witch noted his fingers were shaking slightly.

  He must care for the man very much. This is far from the behavior of an experienced guard. Excellent, another feather in the hat of this pig called Pythion.

  The witch sighed and forced some of the anger off of her face. She unclenched her fist, but did not fully open her hand. Correspondingly, “Baccus” began to slip murmurs and grunts through his lips.

  “My intention is not to harass guards, I merely seek access to the Lyceum. Are there any REAL issues with my entering of Pythion?”

  The guard was either poor at concealing emotion or didn’t feel the need to hide the relief in his face. He made a quick glance at the guard behind him and when he turned back and met Clymere’s eyes he looked far more in control than he had.

  “No Anassa, once you release my associate, you may go on with your business.” The guard stated while nodding respectfully.

  That’s it. You’re not, but a scared guard is an unpredictable guard.

  With that she fully relaxed and let the green glow fade. The offending guard sputtered more and gingerly felt around his lips for any damage. Before he could say anything the other guard moved closer to him and began presumably dressing him down.

  What does he take me for? Some hex slinging hedge witch? If there is even a hair sized cut in his mouth I would be deeply surprised. Ah, right I got the stupid one.

  Clymere spared a glance down at Radvi. The little one was engrossed with the mens faces, his little walnut eyes darting from one to the other. He was calm, which was far from unusual of late. Clymere had done what the other sorcerers had recommended and gradually set him further and further away from home, letting him make his own way back. This exercise, when it had completed and Radvi was awakened on the very opposite side of Samos, had replaced the little bark man's fear with a deep curiosity. The witch was actually a little afraid of him using his long limbs to pull himself out of the palanquin to go examine the men closer. This fear was proven well founded as he twisted in her arms and set one of his claw-like hands on the window frame.

  “Hey! Radvi no.” The witch gently scooped up his hand and placed it back on his core. “I know you’re restless but you can’t go exploring yet.”

  “Oh hades! Baccus, you’ve not just held up a Hecatoi Witch, you’ve held up a mother!” The other guard exclaimed.

  What? Oh gods he means Radvi. He thinks I’m talking to my child. I guess it is pretty dark in here, and the mind does make rather large logical leaps when seeing unfamiliar things. Hm, I’m glad Radvi didn’t get his third arm through.

  The witch made an easy chopping motion with her hands and the men, who had been entirely silent this whole time lifted up the palanquin.

  I suppose he’s right, in a way. Just not in the technical way. Or most other ways. Or really at all, now that I think about it.

  “Guardsman, may I take my leave now? My, uh, son and I are delayed enough as is.”

  “Of course Anassa. Good luck and fair speed to you.”

  By the time he had finished his first sentence the bearers were moving, that easy, even stride. Absolutely and utterly unaffected by the interrogation of less than a minute ago. Through the empty iron gate they went, sandaled feet slapping on flagstones.

  “Now Radvi, that man made an unreasonable demand and I responded in kind, but violence or a show of force should not be your first recourse, alright? There are far better ways to get what you want.” Said the Witch to her wicker creation. For his part Radvi just stared vacuously at her.

  Through the wide central street the tireless men strode. It was to Clymere’s slight relief that most people didn’t spare them a second glance. More trouble and delays would be most annoying for such an important task.

  Most people moved out of the way of such a procession but one woman was looking the wrong way and was bowled over, dropping a large clay pot, which shattered on the ground. In less than a blink dozen slightly reddish clay shards shot over the cobblestones, as if they were fleeing what they were once containing. The poor woman was covered in the contents of her late amphora, small fish in olive oil. A slight hand wave and the palanquin halted. Clymere opened a flap and peered out. The woman was sodden with oil and smelled terribly fishy. The witch made a splayed out motion with her hands and the men instantly let go of the cedar box and went about collecting the pot and its contents.

  “Urgh, you needn’t try to help, the damage is already done.” Said the woman miserably.

  The men did not acknowledge her. Once they had piled all the clay and fish in one spot, one went back to the palanquin and the other helped the woman up.

  “Uh, it was my fault Anax. I wasn't looking.” She continued.

  Cylmere wasn’t listening to her however.

  Now let’s see. That wind is picking up a bit, that man on the crane seems to be lifting that load with ease and that brazier is warming exactly no one. No one would miss a little wind, he could deal with some more weight and who would care if that fire went out? Here we go.

  The witch closed her eyes and whispered arcane syllables and a grand cacophony went up. The wind suddenly stopped on this pathway. The crane operator almost dropped his burden and strained against it. The brazier flared up and went out in an instant. And all the oil and fish lifted off into the air. The oil bubbled as if it was in a hot pan and all the filth of the street left it. A moment later the amphora knit itself together. The cleaned mixture flew into the now solid vessel. The woman blinked in surprise and looked at the cedar box. Clymere smiled at her and flicked two fingers upward in her direction. The oil that had slicked the woman ran off as if she had suddenly become water. The olive oil matting her hair swirled and swished, leaving her hair lustrous. In but twenty beats of a heart it looked as if nothing at all had happened, save that the woman glinted a little.

  “Do try to pay a little more attention dear.” Said Clymere as the pair of men began to bear her down the street. For her part, the woman could do little but blush and sputter.

  The palanquin made its way to the Agora without any other incident. As the Lyceum came into view the witch made her final preparation. A dab of magic here and there as well as a dab of charcoal in her eyebrows. By the time she got to the front of the line, she was more than ready.

  I’ve warmed up my people skills, and my magic, let’s see them try and stop me.

  And so she went inside those heavy oak doors.