Post by Seek on Apr 6, 2015 20:47:27 GMT 10
Series: The Drowned and the Saved
Title: Mages
Rating: G
Event: Fantasy Fencing
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 251 words
Summary: The class of Guard officers discuss the case of mages.
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“What of the raka?” their instructor asked, during a brief lecture on how mages were employed in spycraft. He wore the clothing of a palace mage, though Taybur knew that he was anything but. No mere palace mage instructed the officers of the Rittevon Guard—whoever he was, this man worked for Topabaw.
Bardi Asshim rolled his eyes, his lieutenant’s insignia crumpled. His uniform didn’t fare much better. Had he been in Taybur’s squad, Taybur’d have seen him punished for it. “Well,” he drawled, lazily, “That assumes the raka have even half a brain, doesn’t it? Much less their mages.”
His comment drew whoops of derisive laughter from his fellow officers in the Guard. Encouraged, Asshim added, “Subtlety is beyond them. A raka spy may as well be a peacock in a plantation, much less a raka mage.”
Their instructor smiled—mockingly, thought Taybur—and then whirled around and turned on him. “So, Sibigat—you seem amused. What is it about the raka mages that you find so entertaining?”
Taybur replied, “It seems to me that if the raka mages have convinced you they’re worthless, then they’re plenty clever enough.”
“A dog is a dog, Sergeant,” sneered Asshim, “You can attribute to it all the cunning you like, but don’t mistake its barking for the sign of a mind.”
Taybur smiled. “It never pays to underestimate a mage, Lieutenant.” He glanced meaningfully at the instructor. “Whether raka or luarin, a mage is dangerous. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”
Title: Mages
Rating: G
Event: Fantasy Fencing
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 251 words
Summary: The class of Guard officers discuss the case of mages.
-
“What of the raka?” their instructor asked, during a brief lecture on how mages were employed in spycraft. He wore the clothing of a palace mage, though Taybur knew that he was anything but. No mere palace mage instructed the officers of the Rittevon Guard—whoever he was, this man worked for Topabaw.
Bardi Asshim rolled his eyes, his lieutenant’s insignia crumpled. His uniform didn’t fare much better. Had he been in Taybur’s squad, Taybur’d have seen him punished for it. “Well,” he drawled, lazily, “That assumes the raka have even half a brain, doesn’t it? Much less their mages.”
His comment drew whoops of derisive laughter from his fellow officers in the Guard. Encouraged, Asshim added, “Subtlety is beyond them. A raka spy may as well be a peacock in a plantation, much less a raka mage.”
Their instructor smiled—mockingly, thought Taybur—and then whirled around and turned on him. “So, Sibigat—you seem amused. What is it about the raka mages that you find so entertaining?”
Taybur replied, “It seems to me that if the raka mages have convinced you they’re worthless, then they’re plenty clever enough.”
“A dog is a dog, Sergeant,” sneered Asshim, “You can attribute to it all the cunning you like, but don’t mistake its barking for the sign of a mind.”
Taybur smiled. “It never pays to underestimate a mage, Lieutenant.” He glanced meaningfully at the instructor. “Whether raka or luarin, a mage is dangerous. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”