“Would you please retrieve a chair for the Archmagister?” Terris asked before shifting his attention back to Gavin. “You are welcome to sit at our side, Milord, while we hear our people’s petitions. The one before us currently is a proposed betrothal to the Crown Princess.”
“Is that so?” Gavin remarked, shifting his attention to Baron Torstead.
“I am Joric Torgunson, Milord. Baron of Torstead.”
A memory of a dinner party flashed across Gavin’s consciousness. He recalled Count Varkas talking with this man as he said Kiri belonged on the floor of his bedroom, begging for mercy.
“Yes,” Gavin replied, his voice shifting toward that of ‘Kirloth.’ “I remember you.”
“Oh? I am flattered, Milord. It—”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed, hardening. He interrupted the man. “You shouldn’t be. Abject terror is far more appropriate.”
If Gavin’s statement unsettled Baron Torstead at all, he didn’t show it. “May I ask why, Milord?”
“I can count on one hand and two fingers the people who stand out in my memory for good reasons,” Gavin replied. “You, sir, are not on that list.” Silence dominated the throne room for several moments before Gavin spoke again. “And just what incentive did you offer the king to consider your petition?”
Now, it seemed Gavin’s sheer gravitas was starting to seep through Baron Torstead’s veneer of superiority. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he answered, “Ivarson owes my family several debts. I am confident I can convince him to surrender and abandon the siege.”
“Debts,” Gavin repeated, his expression unchanged. “Of course, he owes your family debts.”
“A-are you calling me a liar, sir?” Baron Torstead asked.
Gavin turned his attention to the king. “Your Majesty, perhaps you should receive my gift before you place any weight on this shyster’s words.”
Kiri was sure her father’s eyes glittered with barely contained mirth, because she could hear the mirth in his voice as he said, “Milord, the Muran family is always willing to accept gifts from either House Kirloth or the Archmagister of Tel. Both have been our staunch allies—and even friends—across the centuries.”
Gavin lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.
The doors of the public entrance opened once more, and another gasp wove its way through the crowd as the audience saw who entered. Kiri wanted to gasp, too, when she finally saw the new arrival, but her training was far too strong to allow her to do that. Baron Torstead, on the other hand, would need to wipe the floor where his jaw hit it; it was obvious he was not at all prepared to see a gagged and chained Sclaros Ivarson approach the dais under escort by two Cavaliers.
“Your Majesty,” Gavin said, “I present to you the rebel general, Sclaros Ivarson.”
“A truly invaluable gift, Milord,” Terris replied. “Thank you. Cavaliers, see to the general’s hospitality in the dungeon, and make sure no one guarding him ever served with him. It would be terrible if the Archmagister had to track down his gift all over again, if we lost him.”
The Cavaliers took Ivarson away.
“Baron Torstead,” Terris began, shifting his attention back to the man at Gavin’s side, “in light of these events, we see no advantage in accepting your petition. Thank you for coming before us today.”
But Baron Torgunson was not to be outdone. “Your Majesty, your guest slandered my honor, just moments ago, before your entire court. I demand satisfaction.” He spun to look directly at Gavin. “I challenge you.”
Kiri saw the twitch at the corner of Gavin’s mouth, which would’ve become a sneer under other circumstances, as he asked, “To what? A knitting contest?”
“I’ll have you know, sir,” the baron answered, “that I am considered quite the accomplished arcanist in some circles. I have won several duels.”
Gavin blinked. “A wizards’ duel? You are challenging me to a wizards’ duel?” Gavin now turned back to the king. “Terris, that’s tantamount to suicide. Surely, you won’t allow this.”
Terris sat on the throne in silence, considering the situation before him. His eyes flicked from Gavin to the baron and back. If he denied Torgunson the duel, he’d be leaving a family enemy alive. But would Gavin—or even more importantly, Kiri—understand? He turned the matter over in his mind a couple more times. He made his decision…and a mistake.
“We find it is the baron’s right to pursue a wizards’ duel, Milord,” Terris said.
Gavin’s eyes narrowed just a bit as he regarded Terris. His jaw tightened briefly before he replied, “So be it.”
Baron Torstead squared his shoulders. “Why should we wait? Let us finish this now.”
The baron stepped back and lifted his hands. As his fingers wove through the necessary spell forms, he recited words in the language of magic.
Gavin frowned, listening to the man’s pronunciation. It was almost unintelligible. In the end, he had to settle on using his skathos to determine what the baron was casting, and his eyes widened.
“Death magic?” Gavin remarked. “You’re casting death magic in the presence of the king?” He turned to Terris. “Isn’t that treason?”
Terris made a permissive wave with his right hand and said, “We give you leave to defend yourself, Milord.”
Gavin scoffed. “Defend myself? The way he’s mangling the language of magic, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t conjure a canary.”
Kiri watched Gavin’s eyes flit across the scene before him. Moments later, she heard him invoke the Word, “Irhys.”
A faint tension around his eyes was the only visible sign of the pain the invocation caused, but Kiri didn’t see any effect, either.
Gavin pivoted on his heel and approached the Cavalier standing nearby. The Cavalier stiffened as Gavin snaked out his hand to grasp the man’s sword by its hilt.
“I need to borrow this,” Gavin said as he drew the sword and walked back to the baron.
The baron was still casting, and Kiri didn’t know how long the spell would take. She was a little worried that Gavin would take too long with his showmanship.
Gavin walked up to the baron, holding the appropriated sword. The baron continued to cast, but his eyes started to look a little wild around the edges. Without comment or flourish, Gavin gripped the baron’s right shoulder with his left hand and slid the sword into the baron’s torso at the proper angle to pierce the diaphragm and run through the vicinity of the man’s heart. The baron froze. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth. The baron’s spell fizzled. Gavin gave the sword a savage twist to break the suction and pulled it from the dying man’s body.
Drops of blood fell from the sword toward the tiled floor but hissed into smoke a mere finger’s breadth before touching the floor. Kiri knew what Gavin had done, then. He’d invoked an effect to protect the floor from blood. It was an excellent idea, really; the bloodstains would’ve never come out of the tiles. They would’ve had to be replaced.
Baron Torstead collapsed to the floor, the blood drooling out of his mouth and seeping out of torso, creating a steady stream of smoke. Gavin stood motionless, watching the man die. When the light faded from the baron’s eyes, Gavin leaned forward and wiped the sword on the corpse’s pant leg. He turned and walked the sword back to the Cavalier, offering his thanks as he presented the weapon hilt first.
Gavin then moved to stand directly in front of the dais and looked the King of Vushaar right in the eyes and said, “I’m your friend, Terris, not your executioner. Remember that.”
Gavin turned and walked out of the throne room without a backward glance, his footfalls the only sound.
Chapter 5
Gavin’s trip back to his room passed in a blur. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings or anyone who greeted him along the way. Anger and jumbled thoughts dominated his mind.
What does Terris think I am? Some kind of rabid dog? Yes…okay, I’ve probably killed a lot of people, but it isn’t even a rounding error if you compare
my body count to Marcus’s. And it’s not like I enjoy it or look forward to it. I’m not a psychopath.
He paced back and forth, working his hands but not really paying attention to what he was doing. The cascade of thoughts and emotions continued unabated.
Gavin had no idea how much time had passed when a knock interrupted his thoughts. Blinking, he scanned his surroundings and saw he was standing in front of the bed, his hands holding a set of trousers mid-fold. The bottomless satchel sat on his bed, open and waiting. Looking over his shoulder, Gavin saw the armoire was open and partially empty.
Another knock pulled Gavin’s attention to the door once again, and he called out, “Enter.”
The door opened, and a Cavalier in full ceremonial regalia stepped into the room. On the Cavalier’s heels strode Kiri. As she entered, her expression and the set of her jaw indicated she had something to say…but then, she took in the scene before her.
“Y-you’re packing?” Kiri asked.
Gavin held her eyes with his own for a moment before looking down at his hands.
“Yes, Kiri, I guess I am.”
She blinked several times in rapid succession, her eyes possibly possessing more moisture than a few moments before. “Why?”
Gavin shrugged. “What’s left for me to do? One minute, I hand your father the general responsible for the rebel army besieging the city, and the next, he arranges for me to kill his other enemy in such a way that he’s totally blameless. From all appearances, my work here is finished…unless you’re here to discuss starting down your list of enemies.” Gavin’s eyes flicked to the Cavalier standing motionless by the doorframe. “Besides, I wasn’t aware our conversations were public fodder.”
Kiri took a half step backward, blinking and shaking her head as if Gavin had just slapped her.
“With all due respect,” the Cavalier interjected, “you should be glad Her Highness’s entire travel team isn’t inside this room. You caused a bit of a stir.”
Gavin shifted his attention to the elite soldier, his eyes tightening. His expression wasn’t quite a glare, but it was close. “There is a very short list of people I would give my life to protect and take as many hundreds or thousands with me as necessary to achieve that protection. Kiri is one of them. Do not question my honor or intent again.”
The Cavalier paled. Gavin accepted that as a win and shifted his attention back to Kiri.
“That wasn’t fair, Gavin,” Kiri said. “Both what you said to me and what you said to her just now.”
“Your father had me commit murder.” Gavin paused, and Kiri took a breath as if preparing to speak, but he continued. “And before you stand there and bring up how many people I’ve killed, I do not deny those deaths. Yes, I’ve killed. In two specific cases that come to mind, I’ve killed on a mass scale. But I’ve never committed murder…until today. That man was no threat, Kiri; he was a mage.”
“He may not have been a threat to you, Gavin, but he was most certainly a threat to my father and me.”
Gavin finished folding the trousers in his hands and dropped them into the satchel. His eyes never left her. “How?”
“How what?” Kiri asked.
“You said he was a threat to you. How was he a threat?”
Kiri sighed. “He was the last of a long line that has engaged with my family multiple times down through the centuries. The most recent attempt to remove my family was a little over twenty-five years ago.”
“What happened?” Gavin asked, stepping back to the armoire to retrieve the next piece of clothing.
Kiri gave a small, half-smile. “Marcus.” Gavin almost missed a step as his eyes and full focus returned to her. “He became aware of their plot somehow, and he walked alone into the castle on their lands and laid waste to it. To this day, the castle is a mass of stones. Joric Torgunson was the only survivor. I-I’m afraid to consider what he would’ve done if Father had accepted his proposal.”
Gavin sighed. “This didn’t need to happen. I almost added Torgunson to the list of people to be…interviewed following Count Varkas’s comments. I regret now that I didn’t.” he sighed again. “But we can rectify that now.”
He dropped the trousers on the bed and said, “The Catalogue of Power,” as he plunged his right hand into the satchel. He withdrew his hand immediately and brought a thick tome bound in gold leather.
Kiri frowned. “Gavin…what are you doing?”
“I’m going to question Torgunson,” Gavin replied, setting aside the gold-leather-bound book and shrugging into a gold robe once more.
“But…but he’s dead.”
Gavin nodded. “Yes. But that’s not the obstacle it would normally be. I just hope they haven’t moved the body far.”
Scooping up the tome, Gavin strode around the bed and approached the door. He noticed Kiri hadn’t moved as he took hold of the latch. For that matter, the Cavalier looked a little wild around her eyes, too. Giving a mental shrug, Gavin opened the door and left.
He was halfway to the corridor intersection when he heard footfalls behind him and Kiri calling out, “Gavin, please wait.”
* * *
For the first time since he’d believed Kiri lost at sea, Terris couldn’t focus on the petitioners who’d come to court. His thoughts swirled around the mistake he’d made with Gavin, and he feared Gavin would paint Kiri with the brush of her father’s action. His immediate surroundings came back to him, and his eyes settled on the small girl half hiding behind her father.
The man’s name was Walsh, and he was from Thartan Province. He was here because he thought Terris to be his last hope of saving his daughter’s life. His daughter was a wizard who had used her power—much like Gavin—but had not received training in mastering it. Terris could see the man’s worry and fear as he stammered through the account of the provincial academy refusing to accept his daughter.
Terris did something unprecedented. He stood and stepped off the dais and approached Goodman Walsh.
“I nearly lost my daughter,” Terris said, “and I am beyond thankful to have her back. I don’t know how to help—”
The massive doors to the throne room opened once more, and Terris looked up. A weight lifted from his soul as he saw Gavin stride into the room with purpose, Kiri at his side.
“—but here comes someone who just might,” Terris finished.
Gavin arrived at Terris’s side, his eyes on the space Torgunson’s body had occupied. He looked at Terris.
“We need Torgunson’s body brought back here,” Gavin said. “Kiri explained to me that he was a threat, and I want to ensure the threat died with him.”
Without saying a word, Terris turned to the Cavalier at the edge of the dais, the same one whose sword Gavin had used to kill Torgunson. “See to it the body is returned at once.” Terris turned back to Gavin. “As long as we’re waiting, Milord, I’m currently hearing a petition that I feel is outside my purview. Would you consent to hear the matter?”
Gavin took a breath and released it slowly. He looked Terris right in the eye and said, “You addressed me as ‘Gavin’ not so long ago. There’s no reason to stop. But what could possibly be outside your purview in Vushaar?”
“An issue with one of the provincial arcanist academies,” Terris replied.
“Ah,” Gavin replied. “What is it?”
Terris turned to Walsh, saying, “Forgive me, but would you care to repeat your petition so the Archmagister could hear it directly from you?”
At the word “Archmagister,” the man started trembling. He started to look at Gavin but quickly jerked his eyes to the floor.
Gavin took the two steps and put himself directly in front of the man. “My name is Gavin Cross. Despite the first impression you may have of me, I do not routinely go around killing people. How you conduct yourself not only reflects on you and your family; it also reflects upon Governor Zentris and your king. So, square your shoulders, and look me in the eye.”
The man took a deep breath and rel
eased a shuddering sigh. He slowly did as Gavin bade, squaring his shoulders and lifting his gaze to meet Gavin’s.
Gavin nodded once. “Good. Now, what’s going on with the arcane academy in Thartan?”
“W-Well, it’s my daughter,” Walsh said. “My wife and I thought she was ill, so we saved our coin and took her to the temple in Thartan. The priest there said she was a wizard and needed training if we didn’t want her to die. We sent an application and…and received this.” Walsh lifted his hand, showing a folded letter.
Gavin accepted the letter and asked, “Did the priest keep your money?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Walsh replied. “The priests at Thartan’s temple are honest folks.”
Gavin nodded and opened the letter with a smile on his face. The smile faded, the more he read of the letter. The missive was very polite and respectful, but the gist of its message was that a farmer’s daughter was not the type of student the academy sought.
“I see,” Gavin said at last. He shifted his attention back to Walsh, holding up the letter. “Sir, may I keep this?”
Walsh jerked a nod.
“This offends me on a fundamental level,” Gavin continued, “but what I need to know is what you and your daughter want.”
“I…never really thought about it,” Walsh said. “I just don’t want my little girl to die. Coming here to petition His Majesty was my last hope. And if we get a miracle? I want her to have a better life than I’ve had.”
Gavin knelt and waited. Soon enough, a little girl with honey-gold-colored hair peeked out from behind her father. “And what do you want? I can help you if you’d like. Would you like that? To be a wizard like me?”
The little girl fiercely shook her head. “I want to be like her.” Then, she pointed off to Gavin’s left. Gavin turned and saw she pointed right at Lillian. Gavin smiled.
“You want to be like her?” Gavin asked, turning back to the girl.
She nodded.
“There’s a lot to learn to be like her,” Gavin said. “Are you prepared for that?”
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