Gavin lifted his hands, producing a parchment scroll. He unrolled it and read, “By the authority vested in me as Archmagister of Tel, I—Gavin Cross—hereby decree the organization known as the Royal Guard is disbanded. This decree shall be effective immediately upon its delivery to the palace complex, the fifteenth day of Bilfar in the 6082nd year of our victory in the Godswar.” Gavin lowered the scroll and regarded the former guardsmen. “How this situation ends is up to you. If you surrender your arms and armor and leave peacefully, you will have a clean slate. I give you my word I will not investigate any of you for any crimes you may have committed while a member of the former Royal Guard. If you decide to follow the corpse that’s cooling on Leuwyn’s throne, you’ll join him in whatever afterlife you deserve.”
“And just what are we supposed to do?” one of the former guardsmen asked.
Gavin shrugged. “It’s not my place to answer that, but I will say this. My offer of a clean slate only applies to your past. If you accept my offer and walk out of here to become a bandit, thief, or commit some other crime, that’s on you, and I won’t save you.”
Silence reigned in the hall for several more moments before one of the former guardsmen stood. He pushed his dishes to the center of the table and placed his weapons-belt—complete with sword and dagger—in the newly open space. He then removed the tabard identifying him as a member of the Royal Guard and walked toward the door Gavin and the Battle-mages had entered through.
As he neared Gavin, Gavin held out what appeared to be a blank piece of parchment. The man accepted without thinking, and the moment his hand touched it, writing appeared. The right corner, closest to Gavin, bore the Glyph of Kirloth.
“What’s that?” the man asked, gaping.
“That is a note instructing the Bank of Tel to withdraw three gold pieces from my personal account one time and present it to you in whatever form you want…gold, silver, copper, whatever you want,” Gavin replied, his voice still filling the hall.
The former guardsman blinked. “Why?”
“If you’re wise enough to choose starting a new path and not forcing me to kill you,” Gavin answered, “the least I can do is give you something to help you get on your feet. I should also point out that it will only work for you. If someone were to steal that, it would revert to a blank piece of parchment.”
The man’s eyes started glistening in the light, and he stumbled through a nervous, “Thank you, Milord,” before leaving the hall. Moments later, the sound of weapons-belts landing on tables filled the hall, and a line formed in front of Gavin as he handed out pieces of parchment that became notes for the Bank of Tel. As the last former guardsman left the hall, Gavin cancelled the invocation that projected his and Saveen’s voices throughout the hall.
Major Saveen turned to Gavin. “If I may say so, Milord, what you just did doesn’t wholly match up with your reputation.”
Gavin shrugged. “Oh, I certainly could have wiped the palace complex—along with everyone and everything in it—off the face of the world, but that’s a very short-sighted response to me. For all we know, one of their grandchildren will be the next Declan the Dandy or an artist that sets a new standard in our culture or…there’s no way to know. For that matter, one of those men might have it within them to make a lasting impact on the world, hopefully for the good. If I had just killed them all, I would be robbing the world of that potential while adding weight to my soul I don’t need. This was the best outcome all the way around.”
Saveen gave Gavin an appraising look. “You are both like and unlike your mentor.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Gavin replied, grinning. “Major, I appreciate your presence and assistance this morning. I will communicate to Commander Roshan that I couldn’t be more pleased with the conduct and assistance of you and your people. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure, Milord,” Saveen responded. “We are here to serve.”
“Well, I’m going to take the shortcut back. Is there anywhere I can send you?”
Saveen seemed to consider the matter a moment before saying, “Well, the Battle-mage barracks is just outside North Gate.”
“I’m not sure I’ve been there,” Gavin replied, “but I have been to North Gate. Let’s step outside to the courtyard, and I’ll open a gateway.”
About fifteen minutes later, Gavin closed the gateway to North Gate and teleported himself back to the College.
* * *
By that evening, town criers across the Kingdom of Tel had posted Gavin’s decree disbanding the Royal Guard on noticeboards and added it to the list of news they announced.
Chapter 18
Gavin appeared in the College’s courtyard. He started for the entrance to the Tower and had only traveled maybe fifty feet when the sound of a terrified, young voice begging reached his ears. Gavin’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to follow the sound.
He walked around the far corner of the Tower of the Council, the central structure for the College, and found five older students in front of a younger student. The younger student was being held against the Tower’s wall several feet above the ground. The older students laughed at the young one’s plight and pleading amidst sobs, and a smile that held no mirth curled Gavin’s lips as his eyes settled on the silver chains of wizards’ medallions hanging around the older students’ necks.
Gavin focused on his skathos, identifying the telekinesis effect that held the young student against the wall. Gavin quickly built a picture of what he wanted in his mind and poured his entire focus into it, invoking a composite effect. “Rhosed-Rhyskaal.”
Gavin’s intent was two-fold: first, dispel the telekinesis effect; and second, gently lower the youngster to the ground. The resonance of Gavin’s power struck the immediate vicinity like a master smith’s hammer upon an anvil. The tormentors cried out in pain as they clutched their midriffs and collapsed to their knees; three of them retched. Gavin watched the younger student slowly float to the ground, riding the invisible platform of force he’d created under his feet.
Gavin approached the group. The young student who had just landed gaped at seeing someone in gold robes, and Gavin gestured for him to keep silent and wait.
“By the gods,” the lead tormentor bit out the words, still unable to stand, “do you have any idea who our parents are?”
“Do you have any idea how little I care?” Gavin asked, his voice still into the deeper, uncaring tone that represented ‘Kirloth.’
“You should. They—” Whatever else the young man was going to say never came, as he lifted his eyes to see who he was threatening…and then promptly wet himself as he gaped.
Gavin turned to the youngster. “Would you please go to the Collegiate Justice and tell her that Gavin Cross needs her here now?”
The boy jerked a couple swift nods before shooting off as fast as his legs would carry him.
None of the other tormentors had accidents like their so-called leader, but terror swept through all four of them. By the time Valera arrived, the tormentors were on their feet, though unsteady.
Gavin said, “I found these five torturing the youngster who came for you. The one with wet trousers was holding him easily some thirty feet in the air with a telekinesis effect. What you felt was my composite effect that dispelled the telekinesis and lowered the youngster to the ground.”
Valera shook her head, tsking as she did so. “Oh, you boys are in it now. I’ve told you several times that we do not condone hazing here, and Gav—the Archmagister—feels particularly strong about it. Last year, a number of upper classmen spent a week with their loincloths as wreaths of holly leaves, complete with thorns, when they tried hazing the students he was mentoring.”
“How soon can you call an assembly of all students, instructors, and any magisters who are in residence?” Gavin asked.
“The easiest would be to announce it at the midday meal to take place immediately thereafter,” Valera answered.
Gavin nodded. “See to it. Every stude
nt and instructor will be in the galleries of the Council’s Chamber immediately after the midday meal, and I want to know anyone who misses it. I’m not as concerned about all the magisters, but any who are here at the College should attend as well. Do we have any Inquisitors here?”
“Two are stationed at the College at all times,” Valera replied. “The current pair are Reyna, Mariana’s friend, and Vikram Scahr.”
Gavin turned to the youngster he’d saved. “Do you know where the Inquisitors are?”
He again nodded rapidly.
“Tell Reyna that Gavin Cross needs her and her associate outside the Tower, please, and bring them here.”
The boy pivoted and was off like shot. He returned shortly, leading Reyna and Vikram. Both expressed their surprise and shock at seeing Gavin as the new Archmagister.
“Thank you for coming,” Gavin said. “Reyna, I hope the days have treated you well. Sir, my name is Gavin Cross.”
“Vikram of House Scahr, Milord,” the second Inquisitor replied as he and Reyna both knelt.
“Stand, please. I do not enjoy people kneeling to me.” Gavin gestured at the five students once the Inquisitors were on their feet. “I want these five sequestered and under guard until the assembly I’ve called after the midday meal. I caught them hazing the youngster who came for you; they were holding the boy some thirty feet in the air by telekinesis.”
Reyna’s expression hardened into a glare as she regarded the five students. “As you command, Milord.”
Gavin watched the Inquisitors lead the students away, the set of his jaw and the hardness of his glare broadcasting his anger for all to see. When they turned the corner out of sight, Gavin shook himself and turned to Valera.
“My apologies, Valera,” he said after a deep breath. “That wasn’t how I wanted to say ‘hello’ today.”
Valera smiled and shrugged. “It is what it is, Milord. You never were one to sit idly by while something you deemed an injustice occurred.”
“Yeah…that’s probably why Bellos offered me the job,” Gavin replied.
* * *
Lillian, Mariana, Wynn, and Braden occupied one of the sitting rooms at the Mivar Estate. The ladies relaxed at opposite sides of a sofa, while Braden and Wynn each occupied an armchair facing their associates across a small, shin-height table. A full tea service—complete with a selection of cookies and pastries—occupied the table, and they each held a cup.
“Well, if no one else is going to say it,” Mariana said, “I will. I’m bored. I never thought I’d be bored coming home, but I am. Who else misses the way things were when we were with Gavin?”
Wynn and Braden both broke into grins.
“It’s just not the same,” Braden rumbled in his deep voice. “Yes, I’m free to pursue my research into imbued items…or anything else that catches my interest, really. But you’re right. There’s only so much time you can spend catching up with the family.”
Lillian sighed. “And it’s a whole different dynamic now, too…at least for me. When we left, we were apprentices, but we came back adults and full members of the Society. I don’t know about you, but it’s been a little difficult figuring out what my place is now.”
“So-what-do-we-do?” Wynn asked. “Form-an-adventuring-company? Hunt-bandits?”
“As much as I’m sure that would appeal to some,” Mariana said, “I don’t really see myself as one of those raggedy adventurers. Besides, Tel is fairly tame, for the most part. We’d have to go pretty far afield to find work.”
Lillian leaned forward and refilled her cup from the teapot. “I have an idea. Why not go talk to Gavin?”
“How do we even find him?” Mariana asked. “Does anyone know how to reach the Citadel?”
The four friends looked to one another, and all shrugged.
“Maybe-Valera-knows?” Wynn asked.
“That might be the best way to find Gavin at this point,” Braden agreed.
Lillian nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. I bet Gavin has been speaking with her on a fairly regular basis, since she’s the Collegiate Justice. Let’s go.”
They drained their cups and returned everything to the tray, with Mariana snagging a handful of cookies. Within minutes, the tray was back in the kitchen, and the four friends were on their way to the College.
* * *
Lillian led the way into Valera’s outer office, and she smiled a greeting to Sera. “Hello, Sera. We apologize for dropping by unannounced. Would Magister Valera have any time for us?”
“Let me check,” Sera replied as she stood. “She just came back, so she might not have had time to get started on anything.” Sera slipped into Valera’s private office after knocking. Moments later, she returned. “Yes, the magister can see you now.”
Lillian led her friends across the room, knocking once on the door before opening it, and they filed through the door.
Valera smiled as her guests entered the office. As soon as the door closed, she said, “Welcome back to Tel. How are you settling in?”
“Well,” Lillian answered, “that’s kind of why we’re here. Settling back into our old lives is proving difficult—”
“And boring,” Mariana added.
“And boring,” Lillian agreed with a smile. “We were hoping to discuss the matter with Gavin…and hoping you might have some idea of where to find him.”
Valera grinned. “He’s probably in the Citadel…or perhaps his old suite. We parted ways at the foot of the Grand Stair not even half an hour ago. Gavin found some Fifth Tiers terrorizing a First Tier, and…well, he was not happy.”
“Molten rock and charred earth?” Braden asked.
“No, thank goodness. He wasn’t that unhappy,” Valera countered. “But he did have Reyna and her associate sequester the Fifth Tiers until a full assembly of the College later today. Matter of fact, I just sat down to arrange that when you arrived.”
Lillian, Mariana, Wynn, and Braden looked to one another, and they nodded. Lillian turned back to Valera. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. One last question, if we may, what’s the best way to reach the Citadel?”
“The easiest would be to speak with the specter at the last landing of the Grand Stair before the roof. He controls the public gateway to the Citadel.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lillian said.
Everyone started filing out of the office. Just as she reached the door, Lillian turned back to Valera. “If I may, ma’am, did you know what was going to happen when you counseled me not to focus on choosing a specialty?”
Valera smiled at the memory. “The specific events? No. I never see specific events, merely possibilities.”
The magister opened the top, right-side drawer of her desk, removed two strips of parchment, and extended them toward Lillian. Lillian accepted the parchment and read them. Her eyes widened, and she looked to Valera.
“The top came from the first vision I’d had in twenty years,” Valera explained. “It woke me in the middle of the night, and it was at most three weeks before Gavin was found. The other is from a vision I had in this very office, somewhere around the time you and the others left to deal with Sivas’s mercenaries.”
“So, you assigned Gavin as our mentor on purpose? And then, you asked Gavin to go to Vushaar?”
Valera shrugged. “As I said, my dear, I only see possibilities.
A shiver ran down Lillian’s spine, and she returned the pieces of parchment to Valera. After giving Valera a final nod, Lillian turned and went to catch up with her friends.
* * *
Gavin moved the final batch of journals to the shelf and stepped back to survey his work. Marcus’s journals took up over half of a bookcase, and Gavin had arranged them in chronological order starting at the top left. Now…all he had to do was read them, as if life would deign to give him enough uninterrupted time.
“Milord,” Hartley said as he appeared in the library’s doorway, “the Apprentices are asking to see you.”
Gavin turned to face t
he specter, asking, “Xythe, Holly, or Jasper?”
“Forgive me, Milord,” Hartley replied. “Perhaps, I should have said Ladies Mivar and Cothos and Lords Wygoth and Roshan.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. How much time do I have before the first bell after midday?”
“At least three bells, sir.”
“Then, by all means, invite them in,” Gavin said. “Do we have a larger sitting room than the one where I spoke with Garris?”
“Of course, sir,” Hartley answered. “I shall take you there on the way to meet your guests.”
Minutes later, Gavin turned when Hartley announced his friends, and he smiled at seeing them. The smile lasted right up until they bowed—every single one of them—and they didn’t do so out of humor.
Gavin sighed. “I get enough of that from everyone else. Please, don’t you guys do it, as well…and don’t start with any of that ‘milord’ crap, either.”
“How have you been?” Lillian asked.
“I would be doing a lot better if I hadn’t discovered a group of Fifth Tiers tormenting a First Tier,” Gavin said, punctuating his statement with a frown. “Otherwise, I suppose it’s nice to be able to affect real change. But quite frankly, I think I preferred how people treated me when I was just Kirloth. You four are the closest friends I have, and you still bowed. I can’t go anywhere in the College without people kneeling.”
“Most people would eat that up and consider it their due,” Mariana remarked.
Gavin gave Mariana a flat look. “I’d like to think we’ve well established that I’m not most people.”
“Have-you-decided-what-will-happen-to-those-Fifth-Tiers?” Wynn asked.
“You’ll have to attend the assembly to find out,” Gavin answered. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Oh, goodness…I’m sorry. Please, let’s find seats. Hartley, if we’re still going when it comes time for the Assembly, would you let us know?”
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