The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  It wasn’t the proper use for them, of course, but they did glow. He had never tried making one in a place dark enough that it would matter. The light they produced probably wasn’t enough to wake the person sleeping nearby. He hoped.

  Trying to search without being able to see was probably riskier than making a small light, so Will tossed caution to the wind and produced a small lun rune in the air in front of him. Looking around, he thought he could see a little better, but the overall change in lighting wasn’t enough to help substantially.

  Dismissing the rune, he made another. This time he used pertos, which was essentially just a fat dot roughly the size of the end of his thumb. When he had first learned the runes, his grandfather had been insistent that he make them fixed, so that they wouldn’t move. Apparently, that was important when crafting a spell so that all of them could be added without ruining the structure, but as a result of that practice he also knew quite well how to make them move, for that was what they did when he messed up.

  Rather than make this pertos rune perfectly, he affixed it to the end of his left index finger. The light was still poor, but he could move his hand to bring it close to things he wanted to examine. Will was rather pleased with himself when it worked just as he had hoped.

  Slowly working his way around the room, he found his letter had come to a stop against the bottom of one of the chests. He retrieved it and placed it neatly on top of the desk. He was about to leave when a cough and rustling from the direction of the cot stopped him cold.

  The occupant had rolled over, but after a short time Will decided they must still be asleep. He moved closer, until he could definitely tell it was a woman. She had rolled onto her back, twisting the blankets until they exposed her left shoulder and one of her feet.

  Taking a few more steps, Will reached the edge of the cot, and he lowered his finger so he could study her face. It was Isabel. The light was too dim to make out colors, but he knew from seeing her before that the smooth, full lips would be a soft pink color. A dark lock of hair had fallen across her cheek, and he fought a sudden urge to brush it aside. He stared at her for a minute, unable to take his eyes away.

  Tailtiu came to his mind then, for the fae woman was flawlessly perfect in every detail. Isabel was not; from the faintest asymmetries in the shape of her face, to the pimple on her brow, she was profoundly human. But I’ll be damned if she isn’t the most beautiful human woman I’ve ever seen, thought Will. Unlike the alien beauty of the fae, Isabel’s warmth seemed to call to him.

  Breaking out of his reverie, Will went back to where he had come in and got down on the ground, extinguishing his makeshift light at the same time. Then he slid out and took his time putting the tent stakes back in place. He couldn’t put the spell that he had destroyed back, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem. At the very least there was no way they could figure out who had done it.

  The journey back to his own tent took just as long, and he was grateful when he was finally able to take off his boots and close his eyes. The next day would be rough with only a half a night’s sleep under his belt.

  Chapter 42

  Will woke with a shock as horns blared outside, and Sergeant Nash yelled at them from the tent entrance. Sitting up, he pulled his boots back on and started to lift the gambeson so he could slide it over his head and shoulders. He was stopped when someone’s hand fell on his shoulder. “William Cartwright?” said a deep voice.

  Two soldiers he didn’t recognize stood behind him. Both were clad in mail byrnies. “Yes?”

  “On your feet, soldier!” barked the one who had spoken already. Will got up, and the two grabbed his arms and dragged him into the aisle, where they turned him around and bound his hands behind his back.

  “What’s going on?” asked Corporal Taylor.

  “We’re taking this man into custody at the order of Lord Fulstrom,” said one of the two men holding Will’s arms. Without another word, they shuffled him out of the tent and marched him across the yard. Once outside of Company B’s campsite, they turned right and took him in the direction of the officers’ tents. As they went, Will could see men hurrying back and forth. Sergeants were yelling, and patrols had formed to sweep the area outside the camp.

  His stomach sank, and he realized that he was the most likely cause for the frenzy of activity.

  They took him to a large tent he had never been in before, though he already knew who it belonged to. It was the Lord Commander’s tent. He was being taken to Baron Fulstrom.

  The interior was far different than any of the other tents he had been inside. It was partitioned, not with canvas, but with wooden screens decorated with intricate carvings of woodland creatures. Will’s captors shoved him along until he reached an enclosed area at the far end of the tent where six people waited for him.

  Four were guards, armed with swords and wearing mail. Will supposed they were probably from the baron’s personal retinue, for they appeared to be in their thirties and all of them had the look of professional soldiers. The other two in the room were Baron Fulstrom and Isabel. Above Isabel’s shoulders were the two elementals he had seen before, while above Fulstrom hovered a fire elemental. Will’s letter was in Isabel’s hand. I’m so screwed, he thought.

  Everyone was standing, as there were no chairs. The baron walked over and studied Will’s face for a moment. “Kneel,” he commanded.

  One of the guards kicked Will’s legs from behind before he could do as ordered, and he fell to the ground. They hauled him up by his shoulders until he was on his knees. The baron stared coldly down at him. “You understand why you’re here. Don’t you, soldier?”

  “No, sir,” said Will.

  One of the men holding him twisted his arm painfully. “You address the baron with ‘milord’ or ‘Your Excellency.’”

  “No, Your Excellency,” said Will, hastily correcting himself.

  Isabel stepped forward, the letter in her hand. “You placed this in my tent last night, didn’t you?”

  Will shook his head in vigorous denial. “No, milady.”

  Baron Fulstrom made eye contact with one of the guards and nodded. The world exploded into splinters of pain as a mailed fist slammed into Will’s jaw with such force that he nearly blacked out. “Lie to me again and I’ll have you whipped. Keep lying and your life will be extremely short.”

  “Fulstrom!” snapped Isabel, her voice firm with authority. “A word, please.” The two of them stepped out of the room, and Will heard them speaking quietly on the other side of the partition, but he was too rattled to pay attention to their words.

  When they returned, the baron pointed at the guards and snapped his fingers. “Outside.” As the guards left, he looked at Isabel again. “Are you sure, Mistress Isabel?”

  Isabel nodded, closing her eyes briefly. Will couldn’t help but notice she didn’t bother to answer properly. The baron followed his men out, and the two of them were left alone. As soon as everyone was out, Isabel went to Will and leaned close.

  Will was startled, unsure of her intentions, until he realized she was examining his cheek. “It doesn’t look as bad as it felt, I’ll wager,” she observed. “I was worried the mail might have split the skin.”

  His nose caught the scent of something floral. Roses? “Why am I here, milady?” asked Will, feigning ignorance.

  Isabel straightened up and cocked her head. She held his letter in her hand. “I think you know why you’re here.”

  “Did someone write something bad about me, milady?” asked Will. I can do stupid, he thought smugly, as long as no one is beating my head against a wall.

  She frowned. “Don’t play dumb. I know for a fact you were in my tent last night. You were seen.”

  Will adopted a confused look while he thought furiously. He knew no one had seen him. She might have some form of proof, but he was certain he hadn’t been observed. He decided to call her bluff. “No one saw me…” he began.

  “Then you admit you were there,” said Isa
bel triumphantly.

  “…because I wasn’t there, milady,” Will finished.

  Isabel chewed her lip, while the tip of her tongue poked out on the other side of her mouth. It was obviously an expression of deep concentration, but Will couldn’t help but watch her. Damn, she’s cute, he observed. If she doesn’t have me flogged.

  Her expression became serious. “Please don’t address me as ‘milady,’” she told him. “I don’t hold a rank worthy of such a title.”

  Will was starting to add things together in his head. It was obvious she didn’t want to hurt him, otherwise she wouldn’t have ordered the baron’s men from the room, or checked his cheek afterward. Why she didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t know, but that was one thing he knew. She was also clearly nobility, and of a rank superior to the baron. Those were his only two facts, however. What would Grandfather do if he were in my shoes? “The hell you don’t!” swore Will.

  Isabel flinched as though she had been slapped. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  Will elaborated, “I said there’s no way in hell you aren’t a lady.” He paused, then added, “Milady.”

  “Explain why you think that.”

  “You called the Lord Commander by his name without an honorific, and he said nothing,” answered Will.

  “That doesn’t mean…”

  “And you had enough power to order him out of the room, despite the fact that it means you’re alone with a supposedly dangerous man,” added Will.

  Isabel laughed. “Your hands are bound.”

  Will looked up at her with cold eyes. “My feet aren’t, and I probably outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. If I were dangerous it wouldn’t be wise for you to stand so close. The baron clearly thinks so, which means you had to have some serious authority to force him to leave us alone.”

  Her foot shifted slightly, as though she were about to take a step back, but Isabel held firm. “You’re observant, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve overestimated the danger you pose. You’ve forgotten that most nobles have magic.”

  He already knew that, but he decided to needle her a bit as he replied, “What, are you a wizard or something?”

  “A sorceress,” she corrected immediately, and the two elementals hovering above her shoulders shifted, becoming visible in the physical sense. One appeared as an intricate, silvery crystal, while the other was an amorphous, watery mass.

  Will tried to look fearful as he leaned away from her. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Stop that,” snapped Isabel. “You aren’t a bad liar, but your acting is terrible.”

  “I’m really afraid,” insisted Will, scrunching up his face and keeping his eyes downward.

  “That’s really painful to watch,” she observed dryly. “Please stop. I feel embarrassed just watching you.”

  Will gave up. Straightening up, he apologized, “Sorry.”

  “That’s better,” she said, and Will thought he saw a hint of a smile cross her face. “Now, tell me how you got into my tent.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “That’s getting old,” she said, interrupting him. “Would you like to see how I know you were there?”

  He shrugged.

  Isabel held up the letter with her left hand while an intricate construction of runes appeared in the air above her right hand. A second later it moved across to dissolve into the letter, then a strange mist appeared in the air above it. The mist swirled for a moment before resolving into four faces, all of whom he recognized; Arrogan, his mother, Isabel, and his own visage. Isabel pointed at his face, “Who does this look like to you?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Will. “It certainly resembles me a little.” Then he asked, “How did you do that?”

  “The spell identifies the residual turyn people leave behind when they handle objects, showing their faces to the caster. It only works if the user already knows the people being identified, though. Fortunately, I had already met you,” explained Isabel. “Who are the other ones?” she asked, pointing at Erisa’s and Arrogan’s faces.

  Will leaned forward, squinting. “A woman I’ve never seen before, an old man I don’t recognize—” He pointed at Isabel’s visage last. “This one, I’m not sure who it is, but I’m sure I would recognize a beauty like that if I had met her before.”

  Isabel blushed slightly, then scowled. “That’s me, idiot.” She studied him for a moment, then went on, “You’ve given yourself away. I know you’re a mage of some sort now.”

  “No, I’m not,” lied Will.

  She smiled. “First, those images are completely invisible to non-mages. A regular person would have seen nothing. Second, you know all those faces. When I said the user had to already know the people shown, I didn’t mention what they would look like if you didn’t know them.” She pointed at Arrogan’s face. “For example, you said this one is an old man, but I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. It’s just a blur to me.” She pointed at Erisa next. “This one I could see, but I don’t remember meeting her. Who is she?”

  Flummoxed, Will clamped his mouth shut. Damn it! He’d been outsmarted, mostly because of his inexperience, but he had to admire Isabel’s cleverness. Then another thought came to him. When would she have met Mom?

  “Are you determined not to answer?” she asked. “You realize my patience won’t last forever, don’t you? If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have the baron’s men back in here. Is that what you want?”

  He said nothing.

  Isabel surprised him by getting down on her knees so she could meet him eye-to-eye. The expression on her face was full of emotion, though he couldn’t have identified what moved her. “People like me can do anything we want to people like you. You realize that, don’t you? We don’t need proof or approval for our cruelty, either. Justice is irrelevant when you deal with nobility. Please talk to me.”

  Something in her eyes made his heart catch. “Why?”

  Her eyes left his for a second, stopping on his scarred cheek, then they returned. “Because I don’t approve of those who abuse their power. I want to help you.”

  “So, you have me arrested and threaten me?” said Will.

  Isabel sighed. “Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to wake up and discover that someone has broken into your quarters and rifled through your things? And I was there when you did it! It’s the stuff of nightmares, especially for a woman. I had already raised the alarm when I found your identity with my spell. I regretted it when I realized it was you.”

  “I didn’t rifle through your things,” protested Will. “I just put the letter down and left.” And looked at you for a little bit, he added mentally. That’s not weird, is it?

  “I need some answers if you expect me to help you get out of this without serious harm,” said Isabel. “Trust me. I’m a friend of Terabinia too.”

  He released the air from his lungs in a long exhale. “What do you want to know?”

  “How did you get that information about Barrowden?”

  “Next question,” he replied. When he saw the angry look in her eyes he added, “I really want to answer. Just ask me something different, please.”

  Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “Who are the other people my spell showed?”

  “My mother, my grandfather, and me,” said Will.

  “Are they in Branscombe?”

  He shook his head. “My mother is hiding in the wilderness near Barrowden.”

  “Is the information in the letter accurate?”

  “Yes,” said Will emphatically.

  “How did you remove the ward in my tent without waking me?”

  Will frowned. “The what?”

  Isabel’s visage showed a curious expression, but she answered, “The ward. A ward is a protective spell. It was set around the boundaries of my tent. Anyone crossing it should have been paralyzed, not to mention it would have awakened me.”

  “Oh,” said Will. “I don’t know. It just vanished after I touched it.”
/>   “It just vanished,” she repeated slowly. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Will shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  Isabel didn’t say anything for a while, then she asked, “Who trained you as a mage?”

  “My grandfather,” said Will. “But he’s dead now. The Darrowans killed him. I didn’t have a chance to learn much.”

  “Was he a sorcerer?”

  If only you knew, he thought to himself dryly before shaking his head. “No. Just a wizard.”

  “Did he teach you a spell to remove wards? Such a thing might be valuable if you could share it with me.” She looked hopeful.

  “No. I don’t actually know any spells. I can see turyn and that’s about it.” A sudden inspiration struck him then. “Oh, and sometimes spells fall apart when I touch them. Grandfather said it was some sort of ‘spell anomaly.’ It caused him a lot of frustration.”

  “Spell anomalies generally only happen when you first learn to express your turyn,” explained Isabel. “I’m sure he was mistaken.”

  “I’m telling the truth,” insisted Will, as he lied.

  “I can find out if you’re lying,” she warned.

  Will doubled down. “Please do.”

  A tiny spell construct appeared above her palm, and knowing what to look for, Will recognized it. Lun, sarcat, kolbet, it’s the same source-link spell that was in the book, he noted. A green line shot from her hand to his chest and vanished as his body absorbed the turyn. Isabel frowned as her spell fizzled out. “That shouldn’t happen.”

  “Told you.”

  She repeated the spell, and this time Will made a conscious effort not to absorb the turyn. The green line passed through his chest but just as it had the time his father had tried, it failed to connect to his source. He managed to suppress the smile that threatened to show on his lips.