The Prince of Ashrya

"Simon!"  I cried, running towards him. 

He looked up and smiled at me as if he hadn't seen me in ages.  His eyes were tired and bloodshot and he looked really dirty, as if he'd been grubbing in the dirt all day.

"Where were you? We were worried sick.  We looked everywhere for you, but you just vanished!"

"I'm ok, Nana.  Just a little hungry is all," he mumbled, embarrassed.  "Glad to see you, though," he said before falling back to attacking his piece of charbroiled steak. 

"Wait a minute, something's not quite right," Corwin eyed him with suspicion.  "Are you sure you're the real Simon?  You're so subdued!"

"Corey, give the guy a break," Connor slapped Simon on the back, making him choke on his latest morsel of food.  "You don't know how glad I am to see you, buddy.  I don't know how old Blackstone managed it, but truly, I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks, Connor," Simon muttered, still chewing vigorously on his piece of meat.  His head was down and he was avoiding everyone's eyes. 

I stared at him, willing for him to look up and meet my eyes but Simon was obstinate and mysterious.  His eyes were downcast and he continued chewing on that steak as if his life depended on it. 

Since he did look a bit on the worn and weary side, I decided to leave him alone for now.  My lips compressed.  As soon as he recovered, I was going to hold his head down and demand that he tell all. 

I wanted to know everything that had happened from the time he disappeared on the hillside up until the time we saw him sitting at the dean's dining table munching on asparagus and beef. 

Within minutes, Barnaby had us seated around the circular dining table with the Dean at the head of the table—if a place at a round table could be called such. 

Barnaby rolled out a food cart with covered dishes holding our steaks and asparagus.  The twins began attacking their portion of food as vigorously as Simon had been doing. 

It was a good thing that we also got endless baskets of hot crusty dinner rolls and a huge bowl of salad greens.  I was afraid that there wouldn't have been enough food for them. 

For the first ten minutes, there was very little conversation as everyone focused on the food. 

Along with the clanking of our silverware and the clattering of our ceramic tableware, the only other sound in the room was the dinner mood music, an eclectic mix of old Renaissance violin and piano classics mixed with even more ancient mage music.

Mage music was an acquired taste, at least to my uncultured ears. 

It was played with the shaibadon, a flutelike instrument which required a unique wind controlling ability that only the more powerful Thaumaturge could command.  The shaibadon required perfect control of the wind so that one puff of air would trigger three to seven tones that covered the range of what a full music chord would encompass.

Mage music also included koubaesha, a large harp-like instrument which needed five hands to play.  Since the human body was limited to having only two hands, the only way to properly play this instrument was through Conjury. 

The mage literally had to conjure up three new hands to pluck and control various notes on the koubaesha.  The most powerful of the Conjurers could control up to ten arms at a time, but for the purpose of playing the koubaesha, only five arms were needed.

It wasn't long though before even those complex musical instruments got sampled into synthesized sounds.  Now any old musician who was well-versed with the keys on a piano could jump right in and play 'new age' mage tunes. 

Mother, who was a rather accomplished classical koubaesha player, had been very insulted one year when a musician with just a stack of keyboards had performed amazing music that sounded like an entire orchestra of koubaesha had been involved.

"Nice koubaesha," I mentioned off-handedly in an attempt to be social since no one was saying anything. 

"Hmm, yes.  This is my favorite recording of The Fluttering Dragon because I have always been a fan of your Mother's interpretation, myself."  The Dean mumbled around a soft dinner roll.

"That's Mother playing?"  I raised an eyebrow.  "She always called it The Fluttering Dragonfly."

Dean Blackstone's eyes grew large.  "Dragonfly?  Well no wonder it sounds so light an airy, as opposed to the usual heavy-handed way it's always been played in the past."

"That would be Mother, making a dragonfly out of a dragon." 

My eyes misted over.  I wondered how she was doing right now.  After I had left the house Monday night, I had not spoken to them since.

"It was a shame though, that your mother missed out on the koubaesha and shaibadon concert that was given Monday afternoon at the conclusion of the Council meeting." Blackstone's voice broke through my reveries.  "She would have enjoyed watching the mage classics being played in the classical fashion and not with the new-fangled instruments."

"I was at the Esplanade Monday afternoon at the same time you called the impromptu meeting.  I saw the huge crowd in front of the amphitheater, all waiting for the meeting to begin."

"Yes!  Amazing, isn't it?"  Dean Blackstone raised his eyebrows.  "Even I didn't know about the meeting until I got a scri-visual from Tangy saying that I had to be there in five minutes or she was going to start the show without me."

"Tangy?"  I asked.

Connor coughed.  "Tangerine Osiris.  You know—our mother."

"She came with that infernal dog, what's its name?"  Dean Blackstone squinted with the effort of recall.

"Max was there too?"  Connor asked, his eyes lighting up.

Hearing his name, Max's ears perked up.  I stuck my foot out and rubbed his back in calming motions.  In moments, he had settled back down again.

"Oh yes."  I laughed and quickly outlined what had happened the day before, starting with the waving cactus, the over-eager dog, and the frizzy red-haired woman.  That earned a hearty laugh from everyone around the table.

I also told them about Marcus wearing the cornmeal vestment in cornflower blue from the House Imara. 

"I know all of the mages who worked with Father, but I had never seen him before."  I stabbed a piece of asparagus.  "I almost thought I had the wrong House Imara."

Simon glanced at me.  "Has the House Imara changed its house symbol to cornmeal?"

I looked over at Simon, surprised that he had spoken up.  The normally effusive mage had not said much all night long, maintaining his odd silence and focusing on his meal. 

"I don't know.  Since Marcus has possession of the Imara vote chip, he has the power to make those kinds of changes.  Things like House colors, mottos, crests, even the name itself can be changed by the Head at any time for any reason."

"Well, it's odd that he would join the House Imara if his father is already head of another powerful group.  It would only indicate that he is possibly interested in something more than just the position of head of House Imara."

"And that is?" 

Simon shrugged.  "House Imara holds one of fourteen votes along with all the healer mages of Topaz.  That's a powerful incentive." 

"The most interesting thing about all this is that you have five older brothers but none of them want the position of Head of House Imara.  That only leaves you, but let's face it.  You're not magikally strong enough to take on such a responsibility." 

"And your point is?" 

"Marriage.  It's an easy no-brainer way to transfer the title of Head of a full-fledge House over to him once he has married you." 

"I will not marry that troglodyte!"  I cried out in earnest. 

The twins covered their smiles with their hands.

Dean Blackstone raised his eyebrows.  "Well at least I can give you some credit for not following that fool and joining the House Mocchus" 

I shook my head.  "I'd never heard of House Mocchus before.  How did they all of a sudden pop up?"

Dean Blackstone leaned back against his chair.  "It's a bit of a long story.  Alastaire Mocchus, who is Marcus Mocchus' father, wasn't a Mocchus at birth.  His real name is Alastaire Rashak."

Simon's jaw dropped.  "Rashak, as in the Emperor Roy Rashak?"

"Yes.  Alastaire is Emperor Roy Rashak's second son.  By birth order, he was supposed to be the Crown Prince of Jade after the first prince died due to suspicious and mysterious causes."

Simon cackled.  "Let me guess.  The Emperor figured out that First Prince got whacked by second prince so he gave the Crown Prince title to the Fourth Prince to spite the Second Prince."

Dean Blackstone shrugged.  "Something like that."  Then he scowled.  "It's no fun telling a story to punks like you.  You're too smart for your own good."

"Why would a prince change his last name?  Was he trying to escape from having to take care of a principality?"  Connor wanted to know. 

"No.  He was trying to take over a group known as the Mage Elites without the Emperor's knowledge."

"Why would that matter?" 

"Taking over the Mage Elites is akin to announcing his intention of starting a revolt against his father and the current Crown Prince of Ashrya, Erick Rashak."  Blackstone responded.

"So once he took over Mage Elites, he set up a fictitious House Mocchus to control everything.  If he manages to take over the throne using the Mage Elites, it is most likely he will revert back to the name Rashak to rule as the next Emperor and drop the Mocchus name."

"So the fool Marcus Mocchus is actually Prince Marcus Rashak.  That's just crazy," Simon slapped his forehead.

"No crazier than Prince Corwin Osiris and Prince Connor Osiris."  I muttered under my breath. 

I didn't think anyone had heard but apparently their hearing were super sharp.

"Who's a prince?  Those two goons?"  Simon gasped pointing at Connor and Corwin with his steak knife.

Dean Blackstone nodded.  "See I told you she's a smart girl."  He turned to me.  "If you want a prince, here's two for the price of one." 

He turned to Simon with a glare.  "These two 'goons' are the only sons of Prince Cobalt Osiris of the Southern Realm.  In Ashrya, all sons of princes are princes." 

Simon looked dubious.  "How come nobody calls them prince?"

"That's because the Osiris keep a low profile for very obvious reasons.  Nevertheless, the boys are still princes in their own rights.  "

"Not all princes are worthy of the title though," Simon sneered.  "Marcus was an idiot."   

"That idiot actually graduated with us four years ago," Corwin sniffed.  "I can tell you for a fact that he's not the sharpest tool in the shed and had to resort to a lot of tricks to pass exams." 

"Bah!  That useless bonehead."  Blackstone spat.  "He can single-handedly drop the IQ average of a group of mages when he's in the room and running his mouth."

"So why do people listen to him if he's such a lowbrow?"  Simon asked.

"Because his father is the second prince of Jade and also head of the Mage Elites."  Dean Blackstone's eyes were ominous.  "They are very powerful, and to ignore the idiotic rantings of the son is to throw away an easy indicator of the dangerous rumblings of the father." 

He grabbed his pipe and stuck the end into his mouth.  "So you say you spoke directly with Marcus on Monday and you turned him down." 

At my nod, he looked away with a strange glint in his eyes.

"I'm surprised he took your answer without making a fuss."

"Well, he did try two more times after that first night."  I gritted my teeth in distaste.

Dean Blackstone laughed.  "And of course, you turned him down twice more."

I shook my head.  "I only turned him down one more time after Monday night.  The third time, I didn't even get the chance."

Simon's jaw dropped.  "What happened?"

I smirked.  "Connor and Corwin said they would tear his arms off if he got close to me again."

Simon cackled like a maniac as the twins roared in laughter.

Blackstone cleared his throat.  "You boys keep your wits sharp.  The chance will come in the near future when you will have that opportunity.  When that opportunity presents itself, I want you boys to take it!" 

"Opportunity?  For what?"  Simon asked.

"To tear his arms off."  Blackstone's evil chuckle reverberated up into the rafters.