02Zan

Zanen Ubel den Americus sat tensely in the back seat of the taxi. He kept his head down and stared at his lap. He was now in London, ordered to be exiled to the disputed land of Wicked Isle and to be watched over by the Washington aristocratic family. The cab driver sent shifty looks in his mirror, wondering to himself who this impeccably dressed and high mannered boy could be.

"Driver."

Zanen did not raise his gaze from his lap.

The driver hastily cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Are you going to ask questions about me or not?" The boy's tone was light yet it sent shivers down the driver's spine.

"No, no, sir," he said cheerfully. "I don't ask anything from the people I chauffer. I'm just thinking to myself how far east Cambridge is from London. Nobody could give you a lift?"

A cold feeling of loneliness pierced Zanen. He raised his head and looked out the window at the gray day. "I had thought so, but apparently not."

Helplessly interested in this boy, the cab driver continued to make conversation. He shifted gears. "So you're from Americus, I see. What state are you from?"

"I lived in the capital city Rothsburg," replied Zanen. He wondered how much inane conversation he would have to take. "It is down in Georgia. However, now I am going to live in England with the Washington family."

The driver frowned unseeingly at the traffic in front of him. "Right, isn't that a noble family? I've heard of Lord Washington."

"They are indeed nobility," Zanen affirmed, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

He remembered the Washingtons very well from a Christmas ball a year before last. They were Americian aristocrats married into British nobility and as posh as a unification of these could be. Their daughter Rachel Washington was not so terrible, he admitted to himself. He did not have much faith in her though. All nobles were the same.

Except for Mother. Zanen raised a shaking hand and rested his face upon it, shielding his pain. It had only been a week since the incident. His porous mind held on to terribly minute details and flashed constant torturous images at him. He had not slept for days and had eaten virtually nothing. How could he? He didn't deserve to be healthy and happy while he let Lady Amira's murderer get away. Yet there was not much he could do about discovering the killer's motive let alone identity. His initial suspicions had been the ever-jealous Empress who in his opinion had set up a clear weak point for Lady Amira. Yet he surmised that Empress Jania had always hated him as well, so why hadn't he been killed? That was just it, why hadn't he been killed?

The cab driver scratched his ruddy, stubble-ridden face and his watery eyes surveyed the child in the mirror again. The kid looked so miserable and distant, yet a strange powerful aura surrounded him. Who was this boy?

This is getting irritating, Zanen thought to himself. I could use him, though, a stronger voice chimed in his head.

"Driver," he said again. His tone was firm and decisive. "How much longer is it until we get there?"

"With the rate of this traffic, two hours, kiddo," the cab driver said gruffly.

"I see." What slow progress. He glanced out at the traffic outside. "Say, what was your name, driver?"

"Eh?" he grunted. Passengers almost never asked drivers their names. "My name is Eric Evans, little sir. Why?"

"Well, Mr. Evans, my name is Zanen Ubel den Americus," he told the man. He had rarely ever introduced himself and he was unsure of how to do it without coming across as cold.

Eric nearly crashed into the car in front of them. "Th- the prince?" he gasped. Unable to contain himself he swiveled around and faced the boy properly.

Zanen's mouth stretched into a small smile. "I suggest you watch the road, Mr. Evans," was all he said.

"But then," Eric choked, facing forward again, "aren't you the son of the late and most beloved Lady Amira?"

"I see you watch the news." In high society it would have been considered impudent for this man to bring up the subject. As it was the mention stung him but Zanen decided to continue with his plan in an even manner. "So you were a supporter of Lady Amira?"

"Who wasn't?" Eric rang. "I know she was active in the Amira Amnesty of the Asian refugees; she was political but from a humanitarian stance and acts like that proved her genius. I personally have a lot of respect for the Lady..." Zanen glimpsed his eyes widen in the mirror. He must have shown his sadness because Eric said, "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I shouldn't have been so insensitive."

He now raised his gaze and made eye contact with the wide pale eyes in the mirror. His startling irises were like a punch in the stomach for Eric and the latter looked away.

"Mr. Evans, will you carry out orders I give you?" Zanen asked.

"Ord-orders?" Eric stuttered.

"Britain is under Americian subjugation now, is it not?" Zanen said quietly, staring at the driver unfalteringly. "Do your duty to the prince, or if not to him then to the son of poor Lady Amira."

Eric's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. "Er- I...sorry, how do I know you're telling the truth, kid?"

"True, the public doesn't know our appearances," Zanen sighed. "It must be suspicious considering no royal arrangement was made to take me to Cambridge. Not even a limousine! To be honest, Eric, I have no interest in the trappings of nobility. For a while I will live as an Americus commoner and want to do away with the luxuries."

Eric shivered from mingled excitement and shock. He certainly sounded like the child of Lady Amira. He was humble for someone of royalty. Yet he still had a chilling confidence.

"Fine," he managed, "I'll do whatever you want, Prince."

"Good. Do you mind if I sit in the passenger seat?"

"Eh?" Eric yelped. "Are - are you sure?"

"You'll learn in time that I tend to give indirect requests," Zanen laughed. He stood up and clambered into the front seat of the Mercedes-Benz. He felt a sharp pain in his side and held his breath as he lowered into the seat. He exhaled and ignored it as much as he could. "Mr. Eric, adjust the mirrors to my view."

"Prince!" Eric cried. "Look, I know I'm supposed to do whatever you want, but shouldn't I make sure you're safe first? Shouldn't I?!"

So his true nature is to protect. That will be useful.

Zanen raised a hand lazily. "This car has a five point eight liter V8 engine complete with supercharger that rotates at a range of fifty five. Torque capacity is seven hundred ninety six. Acceleration is four point seven seconds to a hundred kilometers. You've got a great car."

"Prince!" Eric exclaimed, stunned. "Are - aren't you twelve or something? How would you know that?"

"The manual booklet was in the back seat. Adjust the mirrors," Zanen said again.

Eric fumbled with the knobs. Zanen let him know when each mirror was at precise angling.

"Remember to do as I say," Zanen told him. Eric was alarmed to see the seriousness and focus now present on the prince's face. The child appeared to be staring the road down, sizing up the abilities of his opponent. Nothing about him was child-like.

"Accelerate five miles an hour within two point three seconds and go into the lane to our right," Zanen commanded.

Eric figured there was nothing for it. He executed perfectly and slipped into the other lane.

"Now stabilize speed," Zanen said clearly. He glared in the mirrors. "At this rate of trajectory the car will not be able to maneuver to the right," he hissed, thinking out loud. "That car there is losing momentum. Eric," he raised his voice, "Accelerate another five miles an hour and in one point nine seconds go in front of the car to our left."

"But in front of --"

"Now!" Zanen demanded. Eric held his breath and did as he was told. They were already traveling at a faster rate. Zanen laughed triumphantly. "Just like a game."



*



"We cut down the travel time by forty minutes," Eric said in disbelief.

"Forty six minutes to be precise," Zanen informed him quietly.

"You did make that one mistake, though," Eric said animatedly. He was impressed and Zanen had succeeded in gaining his admiration and respect. "Perhaps you rushed into it?"

"I didn't rush," Zanen said darkly, "I didn't take into account human will. These aren't mere mindless pieces anymore. The other drivers make decisions that have nothing to do with your own actions. That's why when you create a situation you can anticipate what those around you will do about it. Random actions are harder to decipher."

"Hey, how old are you, prince?" Eric questioned. "It sounds like you went to IAFA or something."

He cleared his throat and frowned as Zanen surveyed him with his trademark serious gaze of post puzzle solving. "I turned twelve last week. Now." He ignored the splutters coming from Eric and pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it. "We're now in Cambridge. Bring me to the address of 2235 Hanover Lane please."

"Ah, Hanover is a fancy street," Eric sang.

"Named after Hanovers...?" Zanen wondered under his breath. The British monarchy had always been one to wax and wane and change families, but if the Ubel den Americus were planning to occupy England, the final sun was setting on the once great empire. It was the ultimate betrayal, Zanen thought.

They drove through the town outside of Cambridge, a quaint little village. They passed the cottages and turned down a wide street. From the first house they knew the real estate had skyrocketed to illustrious manors. Five minutes later Eric slowed and entered a circular driveway preceding a large tan colored house. It was not as ostentatious as Zanen had expected. In fact, compared to the perfect posh lawns of the surrounding homes it was rather scrubby. Ivy snaked over most of the front, a willow tree drooped by the left side of the door and on the other side, what would have been a garden was filled with unpleasant shrubs and wild bushes.

The black Mercedes slithered to a halt on the gravel.

"Mr. Eric," Zanen said as the driver turned the car off, "I cannot let you go now that you know who I am. I'm quite sure I'm supposed to be here discreetly. Therefore I order you to become my assistant."

"Prince," Eric started in a choked voice, "I have a daughter."

"I will pay you," Zanen said. "I'm sorry to be persistent, but I must do this. You must do this. You are hereby bound to me."

With that he exited the car. Eric followed hastily. How had he gotten himself in this situation?

"I'll gather my things later," Zanen said as Eric headed for the trunk. "Let's meet them for now."

"Yes, Prince."

Zanen turned to him. "Call me Zanen."

Eric nodded. The two of them walked up the sweeping flagged stone steps. The heavy wooden door was outlined by a graceful Roman-style arch. Eric reached for the brass lion door knocker and dropped it three times. There was a distant voice from inside and another one responded to it. Moments later there was a click of the latch being drawn and the door opened. A tall brown haired boy, dressed ordinarily, stood before them.

"Hello, I'm Zanen Ubel den Americus," he said, bowing his head a little. "Tell Lady Washington I have arrived."

The boy, who appeared to be thirteen or fourteen, looked at Zanen in his black tailcoat and cravat as though the latter were some kind of vagabond. "Er, who are you?"

"Avery," called a woman's voice. The strawberry-blonde lady came into view wearing an expression of interest. She joined the boy and looked at Zanen and Eric.

"Is this the Washington Manor?" Zanen asked, taken aback.

"No, this is the Bonaventure house," the woman informed them. "I am Eve Bonaventure and this is my son Avery. The Washingtons are our neighbors. They recently left for their residence in London."

Zanen felt the floor fly from under his feet. This was a terrible mistake. He withdrew the piece of paper. "I was given this address to get to Lord Washington." He showed the woman named Hestia.

"This is our address," Hestia told him. "The Washingtons are 2237. I'm afraid someone got the numbers wrong."

"Damn Marquis," Zanen hissed angrily. He crumpled the paper in his hand, furious.

"What do we do now, Pr- Zanen?" Eric asked, nervous. Would they have to drive back to London?

"We're not going back to London," Zanen said firmly. He stared at the paper crushed in his fist, thinking fast.

"What did you say your name was?" Eve Bonaventure asked kindly.

"Zanen Ubel..." he repeated. He ignored Avery's snigger and looked directly into the warm brown eyes of this woman. He read them and saw suppressed surprise. Finally, some recognition, he thought.

"Please feel free to stay in our home until the Washingtons return," Hestia offered. She turned to her son. "Help them with their things and bring them to the guest bedroom."

"Really?" grunted Avery. "Are they even -?"

"Do it, Avery," Eve said sharply.

"Mr. Eric can get my things," Zanen said with another lazy wave of his hand. Avery gave him a look of disdain. They waited as Eric got the Prince's luggage from the car.

Zanen followed the boy Avery into the house. He had never set foot in one like it before. To start, the floor was covered in a red earth toned tile and instead of electric lights fire torches lined the walls. The entrance was open and painted a warm golden cream color. To their immediate left and right there were graceful wide arches leading to two other rooms. As they continued to walk through the entrance hall the space opened into a circular shape. Smaller arch doorways led to other rooms. In the center there was a spiral staircase made of iron.

Zanen tried to keep his composure as he stared around, but for once it was a struggle for him. A tingling feeling went up his arms and the hairs on his neck stood up. Avery led them up the stairs, which emitted an echoing clang at every footfall.

They reached the landing. The hole in the floor that was cut out for the stairs was lined with an iron railing. Everything was in close quarters as opposed to the spacious first floor. Closed doors surrounded them from each of the four walls.

A nearby door opened and a boy stuck his head out.

"Who was at the door?" he asked.

"This kid," Avery said, jabbing his thumb toward Zanen. He looked at the boy who stepped out of the room fully. He seemed to be right around Zanen's own age. He immediately felt a strange affinity for this boy. Perhaps it was because they looked alike; the boy was thin and had dark hair and startling golden-yellow irises.

"Hi," the boy said brightly, "my name's Nalanavus but call me Nalo. What is yours?"

"My name is Zanen," he smiled.

"Cool name," Nalo said eagerly. "Hmm, I never saw you at school."

"That's because he's not..." Avery raised his eyebrows. Nalo arched a single brow back at his brother.

"Know what," said Nalo, "I'll take over from here. Avery here isn't the best at manners. I'll show you to your room."

"Cool," said Avery, relieved. He shot off down the hall and disappeared into a room without further ado.

"What's up with him?" Eric asked.

"Ah, I think he misses his girlfriend," Nalo smirked, "he can't see her anymore because our school was - ah..." he stopped abruptly. He seemed to choose his words carefully and finished, "let out on a long holiday."

There was something shifty and strange about this family, Zanen knew it. He hid his suspicion as he fell into step beside Nalo. He was several inches taller than the latter.

"So you don't sound like you're from England," Nalo chatted on. "Sorry for Avery putting you on the spot like that, he meant that you're not British like us. You're from the Americus mainland, aren't you?"

"Yes, you're right," Zanen affirmed with a nod. He glanced at the large plants on the wood paneled wall. He stopped dead and Eric bumped into him.

"Prince," Eric muttered.

"What's the matter?" Nalo asked quickly.

He could have sworn he had detected movement coming from a fichus plant they passed by. Stop being crazy, he thought angrily. He cleared his throat and held his head up higher. "Nothing, I'm just a little jumpy in new places."

"You must be exhausted, Zanen," said Eric. To Nalo he said, "He just arrived here today. Are you hungry, Zanen?"

"I don't need sleep or food," Zanen shrugged.

"Well, that's a bit stupid," Nalo stated baldly. Zanen threw an annoyed look at him. He felt like a brother already. "You know it's considered rude in this house if you refuse what's offered to you. Let us be hospitable."

"Don't worry about me," Zanen said in a hollow voice. "Are we near my room yet?"

"Yep," Nalo grinned. He opened the door for them and led the way inside. The room was enormous, larger than Zanen's bedroom at the palace, and had two full sized four-poster beds, a sagging couch beneath a large window, and a wardrobe in the corner. "Your bathroom is attached en suite, lucky. Dad likes to keep us humble by making us kids share a bathroom."

"You have more siblings?" Zanen asked, curious. "Eric, please put my things near the wardrobe."

"One younger sister, Lucy," said Nalo. "Why, do you have siblings?"

"I have six half siblings," Zanen said grimly.

"Lucky you," Nalo shook his head. "Family, what can you do, eh? Well, get yourself settled in. If you need me, just stop by my room. Dinner is at six o'clock, you really should join us so you can meet Dad and Lucy."

"Thank you," Zanen said with an imperious nod. Nalo gave a quick smile and retreated, closing the door behind him with a snap.

Zanen let out a deep breath.

"Well, this doesn't seem too bad," Eric said encouragingly.

"There's something strange about these people," Zanen mused. "That Avery boy doesn't recognize my name. I'm known over here, right?"

"Not particularly, but everybody knows the name Ubel," said Eric thoughtfully. He hesitated. "Er, Prince...am I bound to be your servant type person from now on?"

"Don't look at it as servitude," Zanen said languidly. "Consider yourself my Knight. After all, I owe you rewards and protection too. We protect each other."

"Well, thanks, but I myself don't need protecting," Eric mumbled, looking down at his feet. "I have one single request of you, Prince Zanen den Americus."

Zanen thought he knew what was coming. He watched Eric sink to one knee and resisted the urge to back away. "If something ever happens to me," Eric whispered, "please protect my daughter Chantra. I am all she has. Please protect my Chantra...Chantra Isabella Evans is her name."

Zanen watched the man kneeling before him. Here was a father who actually loved his offspring. The young prince closed his eyes, fighting back sudden tears. "I hereby dub thee Eric Evans official Knight of Zanen Ubel den Americus and in exchange I swear under oath to do everything in my power to keep Chantra Isabella Evans safe. I promise with all my heart." The silence stretched as Zanen held everything in. Several minutes later he took in a deep, calming breath. When he spoke his voice was steady. "Please get up. I regard you as my equal."

Eric raised his face and stood up. He gave a strained smile. "Say, can I fetch Chantra and come back here? I can't leave her for the night."

"Do as you wish," Zanen whispered, his throat constricted. "Get your daughter."

Eric made an uncertain bow and hurried out of the room. To distract himself from his emotions, Zanen looked around the room for some entertainment. There was a wooden bookshelf in the corner. He approached it. The top shelf was lined with plaques. He wiped his eyes dry impatiently and peered up at one of them.



On this day of April the first, Nineteen ninety seven, Llewellyn J. Bonaventure has successfully been commemorated for his political and educational purposes in the contemporary Mage community. Approved by the Mage Council of Great Britain.



On this day of December the twenty-seventh, Nineteen ninety three, Llewellyn and Eve Bonaventure have successfully listed a member of their family as having power in the spiritual aura. This certifies that progress on tempering the power of the individual will be documented every two years. Approved by the Board of Warlocks: Great Britain.



Zanen stared at the awards and reread them several times. There was no denying it. His heart began to race very fast indeed.



"Wickeds," he whispered.



*