Chapter 12

12.
         It felt good to finally get out of his clothes and clean up. It wasn't until he had been shown into his room and saw the shower that he realized how stinking dirty he really was. Tristian was actually surprised to find a shower in this place, figuring that conditions were primative enough so that showers didn't exist. He also figured that since they were floating on a cloud basically (and looking out the window and seeing nothing but blue sky and white clouds only confirmed that) there would be no place to pump the water from.
         He had forgotten that science had no meaning here. The shower was a simple stone alcove in the wall, though the floor was smooth and polished. He even thought it was warm under his feet. The water came from a simple nozzle in the wall and seemed to sparkle green when it came out. Magic water. He laughed at that. Now that he was getting cleaned up, it was easy to relax and forget about the horrible things that had happened since they had gotten here. All his cares could be blown away by the pressure of the water against his skin and the sheer fact that he was showering in what was essentially a medieval castle.
         Still, some things bothered him, that even the water couldn't strip away. The nature of the attacking beasts was one thing. If the Agent was right (Magent, he reminded himself, sighing inwardly) and something was guiding those beasts, then for what reason. Mass killing in itself seemed pointless and anyone insane enough to think of that probably couldn't coordinate all those monsters. There had to be something else and he was sure the Agent knew it and just wasn't saying. That was probably the thing he hated most about being their host, most people didn't know how much the Agents hid from them, Tristian knew that there were many things being hidden. But he didn't know what they were and the monotony of idle speculation was driving him mad.
         And then there was the matter of the other Agent. What the hell had happened to him? Obviously he had gotten captured, or the Agent wanted it to seem that way. Riddles within riddles. That's how life was with them, just when you had unraveled the first knotted ball, another one was sitting there just as complicated. Revealing secrets just uncovered more unknowns. But what was powerful enough to capture an Agent, unless he had let himself get captured. Agent One didn't seem all that worried about his brother, but then Tristian knew that even if he was worried, he would hide it from even Tristian. It was when he wasn't hiding it then he could start worrying, because it meant the Agent didn't even care anymore. He knew then that they would have a problem.
         None of his problems were solved when he exited the shower. He dried himself with a towel that had been placed nearby, expecting to feel something coarse and rough rubbing against him. Instead it was soft and fine. Good to live in the castle, it appeared. Tristian wondered how many of these things were made by magic and how many were hand crafted. That was the only thing that bothered him here, where he came from, the merit of a man was what he could do himself. Here, magic seemed to level the playing field. Or did it? Perhaps there were levels and levels, skills to master. Maybe it didn't make everyone equal. He had never seen Johan do anything remotely magical, though his wife had performed several feats. Most magicians he had seen thus far did little more than glow and do things that ended up with people dying.
         Johan. He wondered how the man was doing, in his own room. Perhaps he was showering, perhaps he was just sitting on the bed in his dirty bloody clothes and thinking about his wife. It was too soon, the wound was still gaping and open and raw. He probably hadn't even come to terms with it yet. Every time he was close to realizing it fully, he stopped himself and pushed the thought away. To do otherwise probably meant he would fall apart. A man can't take a loss like that and expect to function not only normally, but even greater than before. Tristian felt a pang of guilt when he thought of the man. Mari felt like another death on his conscience, someone else he couldn't save. Even though he had saved a hundred wives today, made a hundred mothers thankful, the one was just too many. He shouldn't have just left the Agent there by himself, though the thought of one of them needing help was just funny. And yet it made perfect sense now. And yet he could do nothing about it. Damn.
         Toweling his hair dry he stepped out of the small room where the shower had been and saw that not only had his clothes been laid out neatly on the bed, but they were cleaned as well. Someone must have come in while he was showering. He never heard them. The thought of someone slipping in silently while he was vulnerable drove a pang of fright through him for a moment but it didn't matter now. If anyone had chosen to strike, he would have dealt with it. If not, then he would have died. Dying didn't bother him as much anymore, it wasn't his own death that worried him. It was someone dying that he couldn't stop. That bothered him in every waking moment.
         Putting his clothes on, he went to buckle his laser sword on and realized that it wasn't there. Realized it again. Tristian didn't realize how much he had missed the simple but deadly weapon. He felt different without it and even though he had hated the thing and everything it represented, all the death and dying that colored his life, he felt it represented something in itself. The Agents. Good. The struggle for something better against the odds. The kind of things that he felt he should stand for.
         There was a soft knocking on his door, driving him from any deeper thoughts. Probably the retainer that the king had mentioned. Now that had been a weird conversation. The king seemed to respect the Agent but didn't seem intimidated by him at all. Probably comes from thinking that he's human. If only they knew.
         Hesitating only a moment, checking over himself to make sure all his clothes were on, he opened the door to let the person in.
         It was a woman, dressed in shimmering azure robes that even caught the meager light in the room. Her hair was brown and braided finely about midway down her back, and her skin was pale. He would have expected her eyes to be green, for some reason but they were pure blue as well. Even though her robes were draped on her, he could see that she had a lithe figure that probably was no stranger to exercise. She was definitely younger than him though, and he could see in her eyes the same naive innocence that had colored his perceptions from the first day. The innocence that he had felt chipped away since that day.
         "Good day," she said, and her voice was light, tinted with the faintest hint of an accent that had never existed where he came from, "I am Michelle and his Majesty has assigned me to help you find your way around and answer any questions you might have."
         "Oh," Tristian replied, realizing that he had stared for a second too long. Fumbling a bit, he opened the door all the way and gestured for her to step in. "Come in, please, I, ah, I'm Tristian."
         "Pleased to meet you," Michelle replied, smiling a bit as she gracefully stepped in.
         There was an awkward silence as Tristian realized he had no idea what the hell to say to her. Rubbing the back of his head, he told himself that at least he wasn't stuttering or making some embarressment of himself. You'd think he didn't run into attractive women all the time. Well he rarely did but still. Ask her a question, then.
         "Ah, well, how'd you get unlucky enough to get assigned to this. I'm sure there are other things you'd rather be doing." He figured his voice sounded casual enough to get by.
         She laughed a little at his statement. "Actually I volunteered for this, though I had to fight for it."
         "Fight for it? Why?" Tristian was surprised at that. He couldn't imagine an entire array of female mages wanting to assist him and Johan in whatever they wanted. It just boggled the mind.
         "Why?" Michelle asked, her eyes wide. "You've both walked with the Magent, been in his presence." Her voice was awestricken. "I mean, especially you, I can see their mark all over you, you must be some sort of scion."
         "Actually, well it's a bit more complicated than that," Tristian replied, not wanting to say that they looked like him, not the other way around. "But how you can tell that I'm with them, I mean, other than the obvious."
         She squinted a little at him. "When you get trained enough you can see the inherent power in things, I guess the magical potential if you want to call it that. And you have a dull red glow about you."
         Tristian didn't like that thought at all. "Is it like that all the time?"
         Again she smiled at him. "No, you have to look at someone a certain way." She fell silent, staring at him for a while. He looked right back at her, not sure what to say.
         Eventually she shook her head and laughed, a low sound. "I'm really sorry, I can't help but . . ." she shook her head again, "you have to see it from my perspective, I guess. We have to study the exploits of the Magents during our training, the most powerful mages analyze every feat they've done to figure out how they did them." She stared around. "This entire castle is here becuase of them. Centuries ago the Magents raised the land up and created a waterfall to drown an oncoming army. We've only begun to touch upon how they did it. And that's only one thing. One feat of many."
         Tristian gave a low whistle. "I wish I could help you with some insight on that, but they rarely tell me anything. We have a bit of an . . . odd relationship, you might say."
         "Oh I understand completely," Michelle answered back. "But just . . . just think about it, the things you've seen. I mean, you've probably seen so many things that they're probably mundane to you by now." Her eyes were wide again. "Do you realize that when you teleported from the capital to Cloudion, that would have left our best mages in bed for a week resting? And the Magent did it without any effort at all. The things you've seen . . ." she stopped herself, grinning sheepishly. "Oh, but I'm rambling. I'm really sorry but this is like a dream for me. The Magents, here. Me, talking to someone who knows them personally. I'm just . . . it's a bit overwhelming, you see."
         "I know the feeling well," Tristian replied. He realized how much truth her words had in them. The things he had seen were normal to him now, where once he would have responded with her youthful exuberance. Time had deadened him, but so had experience. If he could just recapture a tiny bit of what she had in her, maybe things could be better for him. If he could only see again from her perspective.
         "Yeah, so forgive me if I press you for stories," she said to him.
         "You can press me while you show me around, if you want," Tristian said, grinning back at her. "That way you won't have to do all the talking."
         "Sounds good," Michelle replied. Tristian was feeling more comfortable around her already, though her hero worship of the Agents was amusing. He wasn't used to seeing them as objects of pure awe. Fear, yes. But awe. That was something different.
         As they stepped out, she paused for a second and whispered something. The room immediately dimmed into darkness. Tristian looked up and saw a globe of light up near the ceiling fading to a low ember.
         "So that's how do you it," he said to himself.
         Michelle glanced at him. "All I did was tell it to turn down," she said, looking a bit confused. "Any one could have done that."
         "It didn't occur to me," Tristian replied, thinking it was a smart idea to have lights that turned off when you told them to. Perhaps they should adapt some of this magic stuff into his world. "I'll have to try it."
         "But I mean . . ." she seemed even more confused and was trying to find the words to express her confusion. "You saw the light, couldn't you see how to dim it, I mean any adept seeing it could figure out how it worked."
         Tristian shrugged at her. "It just looked like a glowing ball to me. What should I have been looking for?"
         Michelle stared at him sideways, a faint smile on her lips. "Come on now, you must be playing games with me, Tristian. Are you telling me that . . ." and then she trailed off, turning to stare at him fully. "Oh my . . . you're not kidding. You can't see magic at all, can you?"
         Tristian was a bit startled by this turn in conversation but found his voice soon enough. "Ah well, not that I know of. What's it supposed to look like?"
         "Like magic, like . . . argh . . ." she rubbed her forehead. "I don't even know how to start explaining it. It just is, you know, it's just everywhere. How do you describe air, or the taste of water, or what wind feels like? It's the same thing." She stopped and just stared at him, wonderment in her eyes. "Wow. And yet you walk with the Magents."
         "Well they keep me around for some reason," Tristian replied, getting a bit irritated at the somewhat condescending tone in her voice.
         "No, it's not that, it's just . . . I'm standing here prattling about the Magents and magic and you . . . you can't see any of it." Hesitating a second, she asked softly, "What's it like?"
         Tristian shrugged. "Not too bad, I guess. I manage. I mean, I can't teleport or create lights or lift castles in the air but I don't miss it. I just live, and I don't think much about it. There are better things to worry about. I'm just a guy, same as anyone else."
         Michelle shook her head and stepped out completely, closing the door behind her. She never touched it, just blue light flickered around the knob briefly. "Believe me, you're anything but," and he wasn't sure what she meant by that. "I'm sorry about my attitude," she said as they started walking, "I probably come off as some snob, but I'm not. I'm just used to magic, I guess, I've lived with it all my life. When I was a baby, my parents said I used to grasp and babble at things that weren't there. They thought I was crazy. Even then I could see magic."
         "What did you see?" Tristian asked her. They passed castle staff as they wandered the halls. Every so often there was a narrow window, with light shining in sharply.
         "Oh, fairies probably, they tend to hover around children."
         "Really?"
         She glanced at him. "Not that I'm sure, I've never seen a fairie, nobody really has. Some of my peers claim to have but they could have seen anything. Certain spirits like to play tricks like that on people, especially mages. Weird sense of humor, I suppose."
         "I suppose," Tristian answered, thinking of all the mischevious things that Agent Two had done. He wondered where he was. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he changed the subject. "But you were sent somewhere to learn I guess."
         She nodded. "There was a mage who lived nearby, kindly old man, prone to stubborness and sulking when his experiments didn't work out but a sweet guy nevertheless. My parents sent me to him and even though he didn't want another apprentice, he took me in anyway."
         "He must have seen your obvious potential," Tristian remarked.
         She made a face at him. "Don't I wish, but alas, no. It turned out that two of his apprentices were completing their studies in other planes and he had nobody around to do the cleaning." She shrugged slim shoulders. "That left me."
         "You started quiet at least though," Tristian noted. "I didn't even get a chance to study. The first time I met the . . . Magents they dumped me somewhere in the middle of a war and then left."
         "Oh no, what happened?" she asked, eyes wide.
         He shivered a little at the memory. "I had to fight my way out, the hard way." The missing weight of his laser sword tugged at him. "I went from a normal life to fighting for my life in a matter of hours . . ." and the phrase reminded him of Johan. Softer, he finished, "Some days I think it's been downhill ever since."
         "Hey, don't say that," Michelle admonished, putting a hand on his arm. "All the things you've seen, the wonders you must have witnessed . . ."
         "Yeah but someone always doesn't make it, it seems," Tristian replied somberly. "There's always someone I can't save."
         "And who said you had to save everyone?" Michelle asked him. "Stuff like that is for the Magents, they have the power and the responsibility. You, you've seen great things but you're just a regular person, you can't be expected to live up to their standards."
         "It's not their standards, it's mine that I have to live with."
         "Then you're too hard on yourself," Michelle said simply. "You'll never be satisifed with yourself if you keep thinking like that. And-" she stopped talking suddenly, stopping at a door in the wall. "Oh wait, this is your friend Johan's room. I was supposed to get him too, I can show him around as well." She smiled evilly at him, "Not that we're finished with this conversation yet."
         "I look forward to it," he responded, surprised that he was actually sincere. He even felt a bit jealous that Johan would be joining them, since he had been enjoying the conversation thus far, even when it strayed into topics that he hadn't too happy with.
         Michelle knocked on the door, but Tristian heard nothing inside. Frowning, she said, "He must be sleeping, let me just check . . ." she waved her hand lightly and the door sparkled blue and silently swung open.
         Tristian, standing behind her, could see over her shoulders and into the room. What he saw was Johan, near the window. In fact, Johan seemed to be leaning out the window. Very, very far.
         "No!" he screamed, shoving past a startled Michelle and barreling into the room. He didn't know if he was going to make it.