Space Pirate Charlie: The Dragon Mage Book 2 Page 9

  “Longer than that, even. The power. It was unlike anything witnessed in centuries, and somehow, this piddling little pink man is connected to it.”

  Piddling? Little? Charlie suddenly very much wanted to not hold his tongue, but wisely kept his ire in check.

  “The fabrication of the slaaps is nearly complete, but we still need them charged. Even with the other vislas in the Council of Twenty combining our power, it will take months to do so, and at great personal cost, no less. The Ootaki are gathered, but if we could harness the power of the Zomoki––”

  “No one has harnessed a mature Zomoki’s magic before. Not even in Balamar’s time. And every time it is attempted, all of them have either died during capture or while in captivity,” Dinuk noted.

  “But something changed. You saw it.”

  “Do you truly believe this human thing will be what turns the tide? The key that makes it different this time?”

  “If this man rode upon a Zomoki, then he must have a way with the beasts. So long as he believes we are his friends and protectors, he will help willingly.”

  “And if he ceases being willing?”

  “You know my methods, Dinuk,” Visla Maktan said, smiling all the while.

  Maktan turned to Charlie with a warm smile.

  “Impezu ovusk,” he said, thinking he was reactivating Charlie’s translation spell. “I am sorry for my reaction, Charlie. You should not anger me so. I can be known to have a bit of a temper at times.”

  “You did seem angry, but it all sounded like gibberish to me,” Charlie lied.

  “Yes, I removed your translation spell for a moment while we discussed your punishment.”

  “Punishment?”

  “Yes. You have brought this foul tech-magic into my home, and you must be punished.”

  “But I––”

  “I have decided you shall labor with the animals. Your punishment, for now, is to clean up after the Zomoki, as well as the other beasts. Do not displease me again, or it will be far worse.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. You are to report to the animal keeper in the morning. Dinuk, see to it he receives a low-power konus and the ground-keeping spells to aid his labors,” Maktan said, then turned and walked away.

  Charlie watched as the powerful and profound liar rounded the corner out of sight.

  Well, that was interesting.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Charlie! Wait!”

  Malalia came rushing down the hallway barefoot wearing only her sheer nightgown.

  “You shouldn’t be talking to me, Malalia. I’ll just get you in trouble.”

  She smiled coyly. “I already am in trouble. I don’t think this will make it any worse.”

  “If your father hears you were talking with me”––he gestured at her negligee––“and like this, no less, he’ll be really upset.”

  “You speak as though I am standing before you in a state of undress. I’m not naked, Charlie.”

  “No, but fathers can be very protective of their daughters.”

  “I’m not a child, and I can dress as I please and talk to whom I wish,” she said. “But if it truly worries you, we can step out of sight of prying eyes.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she took him by the hand and led him to her chamber doors and through the outer rooms. He felt a tingle, and his collar began to glow as he approached the threshold to her bedroom.

  “Wait. I know I shouldn’t go in there,” he said, tugging the glowing collar.

  “Azmak hopa magusi,” she said, touching the band of metal.

  Immediately, the tingle reduced to only the slightest of sensations.

  “How did you––?”

  “I couldn’t deactivate it entirely. Father would know. But I can make it bearable, if you wish,” she said, pulling him along with her into her bedroom and closing the door behind them. “Father is quite cross, you know, but it is too late for his stuffy-headed anger. One of our ships was heading by the planet you mentioned, and I ordered the captain to have his men bring what salvage they had room for back with them. I must admit, it does look like inelegant rubbish, but I have hope perhaps some of it will hold value for you.”

  “Some of my gear is here? Malalia, that’s wonderful.”

  “I’d hoped you would be pleased. But we cannot tell Father. He disapproves of your kind of magic.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  “Ah, is that what he was yelling about?”

  “He wasn’t yelling, really. Just talking forcefully.”

  “For him, that is yelling. It takes a fair amount to rile him up so.”

  “Then consider him riled. He said I was not to engage in any more ‘tech-magic’ on his grounds. He didn’t want to listen to my explanation that it isn’t magic at all. It’s just technology he doesn’t understand.”

  “You touch a device and it performs actions no one in the Council’s twenty realms can duplicate or understand. I think that sounds quite a bit like magic, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Well, I suppose, when you put it like that. But if he’d just let me use my equipment, I think I could be of more use around here. I mean, he brought me here, but with no real purpose other than he liked the way I fought in my bout.”

  “Yes, I heard about that. Is it true you actually rode a Zomoki?”

  “I did.”

  “Incredible. How did you do it?” she asked, eyes aglow.

  “I don’t know, honestly. And now the only thing I’m doing with Zomoki is cleaning up after them.”

  “You don’t mean––”

  “Yes. Your father has made me the human poop-scooper. As punishments go, though, I suppose it could be worse.”

  Malalia laughed brightly. “You are a funny man, Charlie. I like funny. We should have talks like this more often,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Tell me more about your home world. And how did you come to ride a Zomoki?”

  Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, look, it’s been nice, Malalia, and I wish we could continue this, but I really should get to my new work, or your father will get even more angry.”

  “Fine,” she mock-sulked, walking him to the door.

  “Thank you. Really. It can be tough in a new place, and you’ve been beyond kind to me.”

  “I’d do nothing less. I like you, Charlie, and I hope we become the best of friends.”

  He caught a whiff of flowers in the air when she leaned in close and kissed his cheek. “The salvage from your ship is in the lower wine cellar, by the way. I suggest you keep it there. The thickness of the stones will keep Father’s prying eyes away, for a time at least,” she said, her warm smile lingering even after the door had closed.

  Charlie was trotting down the stairs toward the kitchen on his way to the lower cellar––which he’d only learned about from Tuktuk’s love of good wine––when a meaty hand grabbed him from behind. It took every fiber of restraint to hold back from throwing a powerful elbow, but inside those walls, Charlie knew better.

  Sloppy, Charlie. Should have heard him.

  “Hello, Dinuk,” he said to the visla’s head of security. “How can I help you?”

  Dinuk released his arm and held out an outstretched hand. In his palm was one of the thinnest, weakest konuses Charlie had ever seen.

  “Visla Maktan has granted you a konus to aid in your work. Put this on.”

  Charlie did as he was told, and even though there was almost no power to the device, it nevertheless felt good having one on his wrist again.

  “Eikood pooks,” Dinuk said. “That is the waste shifting spell you will need when cleaning up after the beasts in their pens. “Eikood pord” deposits the waste when you have arrived at the disposal area. Enjoy your new job.”

  He watched the man move off down the hallway. Quiet for such a stocky man, Charlie noted. In his former life it would have slipped his awareness entirely, but his years under Ser Baruud’s tutelage had tuned him in to many things average people m
ight overlook.

  Charlie scanned for prying eyes, and, when he felt certain no one was looking, he slid into the curving stairwell leading to the subterranean storage areas beneath the kitchen and servants’ quarters.

  The wide stairs had a fine layer of red dust on them, the sight of which brought a wave of memory crashing over him. The crash. Surviving the harsh conditions of the wasteland. The deaths of his friends. And poor Rika.

  The dirt would be cleaned soon enough, and he had no time to waste. Charlie shook himself free of memory’s grip and padded down the corridor to the lower wine cellar. He entered the room, closing the sturdy door behind him, then made his way to the very back of the room, where a large tarp covered something.

  Let’s see what they brought me. It would have been so much better had he been with them, choosing what to bring and what to leave behind. But they had done the job without him, so what was there was all he’d get. He only hoped it was something useful.

  Well, shit.

  The assortment of junk was pretty much exactly that. Junk. The men had somehow managed to bring him absolutely nothing that would be of any use on Maktan’s estate.

  “So much for that idea,” he grumbled, picking up an electric humidity gauge. The battery pack had long since gone dead, left exposed in the wasteland for nearly three years, but as Charlie moved to toss it back on the pile, an idea hit him.

  “I wonder…”

  He held out his hand and recited the simple spell Ser Baruud had taught him. The one to keep the portable lights operating when they trained late at night.

  “Yaka illum.”

  It wasn’t designed to charge human electronics, but if he could find a way to use magic to make his science tech function, it would be the perfect melding of both galaxies’ powers.

  “Yaka illum,” he said again, straining to pull what little power he could from the flimsy konus on his wrist.

  A slightest of sensations flowed through his fingers. Nothing like when using a proper konus, but it was something, and after a long minute repeating the spell, his attention fixed on the drained instrument, one of its lights flickered on, then faded.

  “Holy shit! It worked!”

  Charlie very nearly did a happy dance in the cellar, and was tempted to crack open a bottle of the visla’s wine in celebration, but wisely refrained from both. Nevertheless, things had taken a turn for the interesting, if not the better.

  Now. How can this be of use to me?

  Far above in the high rooms of Visla Maktan’s offices, a quiet knock sounded at his door.

  “Come,” he commanded.

  Malalia strode in, confidently, clothed in a comfortable dress.

  “Ah, my dearest. How did it go?”

  “Quite well, I think. Though you nearly overplayed your ire. He was so concerned about angering you that I very nearly failed at bringing him into my chambers.”

  “But you succeeded.”

  “Of course I did. I am Yoral Maktan’s daughter, am I not? Failure is not an option.”

  Her father let out a little laugh. “Yes, you most certainly take after me in that regard. Now tell me, what were you able to glean from him?”

  “Nothing of use. At least, not for the time being. But I have made him my co-conspirator, providing him a smattering of debris from his crashed vessel in the Balamar Wastelands. I told him it was our little secret. I suspect he’s down there right now as we speak, looking through his precious refuse.”

  “I am still not comfortable bringing that tech-magic into these walls. It feels unnatural.”

  “Father, you worry too much. I made sure to instruct Captain Falaan to only retrieve devices that appeared damaged, small, or harmless. There is nothing he can do with them, yet a bond of trust has been forged. Soon, I’ll push harder, and then we shall learn what he really knows about the Zomoki.”

  “You’ve done well, Malalia. Keep an eye on him, and keep me informed.”

  “Of course. It should prove a reasonably simple task. He is a man, after all.”

  “Ah, you will resort to those tricks,” he stated, rather than asked.

  “You underestimate me, Father. While the temptation of physical pleasures may be of use, I feel I will not have to go so far as to bed the man.”

  “I trust your judgment, my dearest child.”

  Visla Maktan was pleased. While securing the Zomoki’s power was sure to be an arduous task, progress was being made, and if all went to plan, he would drain the beast dry, powering all of his weapons at once, while making himself the most powerful visla in millennia.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A low hum, inaudible to all but a very select few––including the man with Zomoki blood in his veins––signaled the arrival of several medium-sized ships to the landing fields outside the estate. Charlie rushed to his window but could not catch sight of them from his vantage point.

  Down below, none seemed to hear the craft, continuing on with their evening tasks as if nothing unusual was afoot. But something was, and Charlie felt it was high time he figured out what.

  Strange visitors in the night, and landing far off from the estate. Someone, or someones, do not wish to be scrutinized.

  Charlie closed his room behind him, casting a pathetically weak locking spell on the door with his underpowered konus. It would keep most of the staff out, at least if they didn’t try the door too hard, but anyone with even a modicum of power could force it easily.

  It’ll have to do for now.

  He quickly padded down the corridor, making his way downstairs, hoping to make it out of the building without drawing attention to himself.

  “Charlie, what are you doing down here?”

  It was Elianna, one of Magda’s assistants, mopping up the kitchen.

  “Oh, uh, hi.”

  “Were you looking for something? I can get Tuktuk or Magda if you need––”

  “No, that’s fine. I, uh, I was just going to make a pot of coffee, is all.”

  Elianna smiled at that.

  “Would you like a cup?” Charlie asked, noting her interest.

  “Oh, I really shouldn’t,” she said, unconvincingly. “Mistress prefers we don’t overstimulate ourselves. We had a few konus issues, I’m sure you heard.”

  He certainly had. It seemed the magic-enhancing benefits experienced by some led to somewhat overpowered spells being accidentally cast. A full set of bedsheets had been torn in half, and a bathing chamber was nearly flooded by an errant cleaning spell.

  “Well, I don’t think one small cup would hurt,” Charlie said. “Besides, I’m making a big pot, and no one would know.”

  Looks like I’m making coffee now, he grumbled to himself as he pulled out his sealed bag of beans and worked on completing his alibi. The aroma alone was enough to put a sparkle in Elianna’s eyes.

  “I suppose one tiny cup wouldn’t hurt,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  “But why are you making a big pot? It is getting late.”

  “Uh, because I’ll be working late tonight in my room. The visla assigned me a new job, so I need to prepare and learn the new spells to do it right.”

  This appeared to be the right answer, as she nodded her head in understanding and agreement.

  “Very wise, Charlie. The visla is a kind man, but he does not tolerate slacking in duties.”

  “I kind of noticed that.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  “I hope so, but thanks for the kind words of confidence.”

  He poured boiling water over the grounds and brewed far more coffee than he needed, but the show was for Elianna, and worst-case scenario, he’d just have it iced the following day.

  She took her cup with gratitude, offering to clean the pot for him.

  “It’s the least I can do, Charlie. And you have work to do.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for that. But you know, I was thinking I’ll take a quick walk to clear my head first. I want to be at my best when I
begin.”

  Elianna nodded her understanding and poured the entirety of the coffee into a large thermos-like container. “This will keep it fresh for you. Now go, enjoy your walk. Leave this to me. And thank you for the coffee, Charlie.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, then stepped out into the night.

  He waited until he’d walked out of the illumination of the building, then took to the shadows, jogging toward the area the ships landed.

  Well, that went better than it could have.

  He made good time, his eyes adjusting to the dark with the aid of a little spell Ser Baruud had taught him what suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago. His konus was weak, but the spell worked well enough for his purposes. A tingle surged across his neck as he grew closer to the low wall barring his way.

  Dammit, they landed farther that way, he noted, then realized exactly where he was. Hang on, the slaap fabrication lab was over––

  “Hey, what are you doing out here?” a deep voice boomed at him as a light shone in his eyes.

  “I’m trying to find the animal enclosures,” Charlie lied. “Visla Maktan ordered me to clean the pens, but I think I’m turned around.”

  “You can’t be over here,” the man said, unimpressed with his excuse.

  “Yeah, I know,” Charlie said, making a show of tugging his collar. “This thing is burning really bad.”

  The man’s shoulders relaxed a little when he realized the man in his light simply could not cross over to where he was not allowed. The magic containing him would stop him well before he topped the wall.

  “Ah, you’re Visla Maktan’s new slave. Still not allowed past the inner wall, I see.”

  “Oh, is that what that was?” he said.

  “And now you’re cleaning the pens?” The man laughed. “You must have drawn his ire pretty substantially for that to be your chore so soon after arriving. That is a favored punishment of his, and one I do not envy you in the slightest.”

  “But how bad can it really be?”

  “Oh, it can be bad,” the man replied with an amused grin. “I hope you’re up on your odor-blocking spells.”