Gloomy dark made the room’s details difficult. The square chamber itself appeared tiny, only three paces to a side, with a heavy metal door centered on the wall across from him. Moldy straw littered the floor and a stinking bucket sat in one corner. Flickering yellow light filtered through a barred window on the door provided the only illumination.
Adam fought off dizziness and a wave of nausea as he forced himself to his feet. The blow must have been harder than he realized. He stumbled to the door and placed his face against the bars. A smoky torch sat in a rusty wall sconce, its light revealing a few feet of dank hallway.
“Hello!” he yelled. “Is anybody there?” Only silence answered. The effort made his head pound harder, and he slammed both fists against the door in exasperation. But its thickness absorbed his blows and wouldn’t yield. Adam felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. Turning his back to the door, he slid to the cold floor. The sheer weight of everything he’d experienced threatened to overwhelm him.
Alone in the dark, Adam felt madness creeping along the edges of his mind. He rocked back and forth, caught between two impossible situations: impossible to believe this world real, yet just as impossible to deny his own senses. I’ve got to find a way out before I lose my mind, he thought. I can’t...
The squeal of rusty metal startled Adam from his thoughts. A loud crash followed as a metal door slammed shut. The noise came from the passageway outside his cell door.
Someone’s coming, he realized. Adam’s fear scaled up to near panic. Jumping to his feet, he placed his back against the wall opposite the door, hands curled into fists. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed along the corridor, soon followed by the rasp of a heavy key in the door’s stubborn, rusty lock.
The door opened outward with a loud groan. Two soldiers attired in the now familiar green and black uniforms entered the small chamber and stepped back to either side of the door, short pikes held at the ready. A third man entered bearing a torch. Adam flinched from the sudden, bright light. While the man handed the torch to a guard, Adam studied his captor from shaded eyes.
Several inches taller than Adam, the man’s slender frame made him appear even taller. A long, dark brown robe covered him from neck to ankles; his feet clad in leather sandals. The tall, wooden staff clutched in his left hand appeared similar to the one Adam found in the forest. His, however, had metal bands at each end, each carved with intricate runes.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, Adam studied the visitor’s face. An older man with dark-brown hair well-seasoned with gray, his heavy brow overhung deep-set gray eyes marked by tiny crow’s-feet. A crooked nose—perhaps broken at one time and improperly set—overlooked thin lips turned down in a tight frown. Deep lines marked the sides of his mouth, and Adam guessed him a man used to smiling. The sharp chin he kept clean-shaven, but perhaps most obvious, the man appeared exhausted, as though he had not slept for some time.
“I fear I must apologize for your welcome,” said the man, his voice low and soothing. “It is not our habit to treat strangers so callously. You should know Osler Dunham has spoken on your behalf. Though but a farmer, he is a man of some discernment in Lakeshore and not easy to deceive. My inclination is to withhold judgment for now.”
Adam’s fear made him defensive. “Who the hell are you?”
The man gave a tight grin of amusement. “Ah, Osler said you were a stranger here.” With a slight bow, he said, “I am Master Aristomus, head of the Mages’ Guild in Lakeshore. Though, as the only mage in residence, the title is more a formality than a mark of distinction.”
“Head of the... you’re a mage?” asked Adam. “You’re saying you can work magic?”
“That is correct,” answered Aristomus with a nod. “Forgive me, but you seem somewhat skeptical.”
“You bet I am. Look, where I come from, a person making claims like that ends up in a nuthouse,” said Adam. “Why should I believe you?”
A spark of anger flared in the mage’s eyes. Holding out his staff, he rapped one metal-shod end on the floor of the cell. A faint white aura sprang up around him and Adam felt his body seized in an invisible grip, like a giant hand. Adam’s breath expelled from his lungs with a whoosh. Aristomus raised his staff and Adam’s feet left the floor. He floated upward—one foot, then two—and his hair brushed against the low ceiling of the small cell.
“Okay, okay! I believe you!” he gasped. “Put me down!”
Aristomus lowered his staff and brought Adam to a gentle landing on the ground. The aura winked out and Adam crumpled to the floor. Glaring up at the mage, he remained smart enough to stay silent.
Aristomus appeared embarrassed. He knelt to help Adam to his feet. “Again I must ask your pardon,” said Aristomus. “I am more tired than I realized. Are you well?”
Adam brushed damp straw from his pants. “Forget it,” he replied. “I guess maybe I deserved it.”
Aristomus motioned to one soldier. “Take our guest to more suitable quarters.” To Adam he said, “Once you have rested and refreshed yourself, we will send for you. After you answer our questions, perhaps we can make a final determination.”
“A determination about what?” Adam asked, though he feared the answer.
“Why about you, of course. And if we determine you serve the Dark Mage,” Aristomus fixed Adam with a pointed stare, “an execution planned.” With those words, the mage turned on his heel and left.
The two soldiers took up positions in front and behind Adam and ushered him from the cell. As he suspected, the prison was located deep below ground. They followed many twists and turns and climbed several sets of stairs before arriving at a wide metal door. The first soldier pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, unlocked the door and opened it wide.
After the gloom of the dungeons, Adam blinked back tears at the bright mid-morning sunlight. But it also revealed his first glimpse of the bustling city of Lakeshore. Though the narrow side streets appeared unpaved, the city’s architects had lined the wider main avenue with the same gray stone used for the walls. Horse-drawn buggies and wagons weighed down with goods crowded the streets. Children dodged in and out of traffic as drivers barked at them to stand aside. Throngs of people traveled the walkways while street vendors plied their wares from small carts. Adam smelled the spicy odor of meat pies and the tangy aroma of fresh apple tarts. He had no idea how long they’d imprisoned him, but he suspected he’d been unconscious at least a night. His mouth watered and he felt weak with hunger; the provisions from Osler’s wagon a distant memory.
Many of the whitewashed stone buildings lining both sides of the street had bright roofs of red, blue and green slate. The storefronts seldom rose beyond a single floor, but a few of the structures, to include at least one inn, rose as tall as four stories.
The two soldiers escorted Adam down the street. He felt self-conscious as passersby gawked and pointed at him. But after a stern look by one soldier, they turned away, as though remembering urgent business elsewhere. The party continued on a short distance before stopping in front of a large three-story building. A wooden sign hung from above a massive door. Adam saw a pair of crossed staffs superimposed over a golden sunburst engraved in the wood.
“The Mages’ Guild,” replied one soldier, in response to Adam’s unasked question. Opening the door, he led Adam inside. The lacquered wooden floors shone with a deep glow, and tall bookshelves covered most of the walls. Books of every size, shape and style lined the shelves. A long wooden table surrounded by tall, plush chairs dominated the center of the room. The soldiers led Adam around the table toward a colorful tapestry at one corner of the room. Behind it, a narrow staircase led up. The soldiers motioned Adam to precede them. Continuing past the next landing, they reached the third floor. Beyond an open doorway, Adam saw a long, bare hallway with several closed doors to either side. A room stood open at the far end. When they drew close, the first soldier stopped and motioned for Adam to enter.
Once inside, Adam turned, and the sold
ier spoke again. “Remain here until summoned.” Then he left, closing the door behind him. Adam heard their footsteps retreating down the hallway.
The inside of the door had no knob or latch. Just another prison cell, then, he thought. The small, but comfortable room held a narrow bed supplied with soft pillows and a thick quilt. At the foot of the bed sat a small, round table and chair. A tray held bread, cold meat, cheese and a large cluster of grapes. A small pitcher beaded with moisture sat beside the tray. All things considered, he thought, it sure beats my last accommodations.
Adam walked to a window on the right wall. It overlooked the busy Lakeshore street he’d just left. The window opened inward to let in the noise and bustle of the city below. But heavy bars across the casement reinforced his status as a prisoner. Closing the window, he moved over to a heavy curtain on the opposite side of the room. Tucked behind it, he found a bathroom just large enough for a stone basin and a small wooden table. A simple series of wooden levers allowed water to fill the basin. Adam undressed. The coarse, woolen smock he tossed into the corner next to the chamber pot. Then he gave himself a standing bath with a small hand towel and a chunk of coarse soap. He scrubbed his hair, careful not to reopen the cut on his head. The leftover water he used to wash his jeans, socks and underwear. After wringing them out, he spread the clothing out on the bedroom floor to dry.
He dressed in a soft white robe and a pair of sandals he found on one corner of the bed. Then he made himself a sandwich from the meat, bread and cheese and sat down to eat. He sniffed the pitcher and found it filled with thick, sweet mead. So instead, he washed down the sandwich with a few of the grapes.
Belly full, Adam yawned. Suspecting he might soon need to keep his wits about him, he slipped off the sandals and crawled under the quilt for a nap. He fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Chapter 5, Interrogation
A sharp rap at the door startled Adam from sleep. By the time the door opened, he’d slipped out of the bed and into his sandals. One of the soldiers who’d escorted him earlier stepped inside. “It is time.”
“Where are you taking me?” asked Adam. The soldier remained silent and motioned with one hand toward the door. Adam looked at his still damp clothes with regret. Then, with a slight shrug, he walked out into the hallway and toward the stairs.
The soldier stopped him at the second floor landing. Adam opened the door himself and stepped inside a large room. A few tables and overstuffed chairs sat around a huge, cold fireplace off to one side. But a large, horseshoe-shaped table dominated the room. A chair sat empty just inside the open end of the table while two men and a woman waited at its head. The men Adam knew already. Aristomus sat in the center chair, his staff laid out on the table before him. His drawn, gray face made it obvious he’d gotten no rest since Adam had last seen him. To his left, Captain Henslow glared, teeth clenched and heavy beard stiff with anger.
To the right of Aristomus sat the third member of the group, an elderly woman. Short and plump, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, she maintained a stern expression with thin lips drawn down in a frown while the fingers of her left hand drummed a rapid tattoo against the tabletop.
A hand closed around Adam’s upper arm, guiding him to the empty chair and forcing him to sit. Continued stress made his temper short. “Look,” he started, “I don’t know what’s going on here but I’m getting tired of...”
“Silence!” growled Henslow as he slammed his open hand against the table. He looked over at the mage. “I fail to understand why we are here, Master Aristomus. He bore the sign of the Dark Mage. What other evidence do we need? The penalty is death. I see no reason to discuss this further.”
“As you have stated many times over the past several hours, Captain,” sighed Aristomus. “We all admit the stains on his garment evoked a... curious pattern. The question is whether these stains are a coincidence or something more malevolent.” He turned to face Adam. “That is what we will attempt to decide here. Adam Gray, you have already met the good Captain.” Then he turned and indicated the woman on his right. “This is Carlotta Steir, mayor of Lakeshore.”
Mayor Steir stopped tapping her fingers long enough to nod at Adam. “Let us get on with this, Master Aristomus. I have other responsibilities to see to. The Merchants’ Guild is protesting the latest tariff increase and...”
“Of course, madam mayor,” Aristomus sighed. “I have no intention of taking any longer than necessary.” He looked across the table at Adam and asked, “Are you a mage?”
Adam stared straight at Aristomus. “What do you think?”
A flash of annoyance sparked the mage’s eyes. “I think Osler Dunham believes you are a mage. I think you possessed a staff of montoria wood, though bare and with no sign of use. And I think,” his voice rose with every word, “you should consider these questions a serious matter! Once again I ask, are you a mage?”
“Look, I told Osler I’m in the magic business, and it’s true,” answered Adam. “I run a magic shop back home, but it doesn’t work like that there. It’s all slight-of-hand and misdirection. Where I come from, there’s no magic.”
Now he had Mayor Steir’s full attention. “No magic?” she asked, incredulous. “Impossible!” Henslow nodded his head in vigorous agreement.
Aristomus overrode their protests, “Perhaps it would be best if you explained who you are and where you are from.”
Adam took a deep breath and released it with a sigh. Then he began his tale with the salesman who visited the magic shop and the small bottle of “magic” beans he left behind.
“Wait,” said Aristomus. “This visitor... tell me his name.”
“Max Hendricks,” replied Adam. “Why? Is it important?”
The three exchanged meaningful glances. Then Aristomus motioned for him to continue. Adam described the compulsion forcing him to swallow the beans; how he woke up on the side of a mountain and his difficult climb to reach the river. He told of the attack by the Unsouled woman and his narrow escape; how he’d found the staff and carried it for protection. He spoke of his chance meeting with Osler on the road in the Great Forest and the farmer’s kindness as he offered Adam a ride to Lakeshore. Adam continued on for more than an hour, prompted by an occasional question from the mage. At last, his mouth dry from the interrogation, Adam came to the end of his story.
Quiet dominated the room as the three struggled to process all they’d heard. Aristomus’ hands tightened around the staff in front of him, his knuckles white. The silence stretched out for several minutes... then the faint white aura sprang into existence around the mage once again.
Adam panicked. Jumping to his feet, he stumbled back against the chair, the memory of what happened in the prison still fresh. “Wait!” he shouted. “What are you going to do?”
The guard seized both his arms and forced him back into the chair as the aura around the old mage vanished. Aristomus looked surprised as he motioned for the guard to release Adam. “You sensed my summoning of the Power?” he asked.
“If you mean the white aura appearing around you, then yes,” said Adam. “It happened once before in the prison and I don’t want to go through that experience again.”
“Only a mage can sense when another uses the Power,” mused Aristomus as he stroked his chin. “It appears I have my answer.” He leveled a finger at Adam’s chest. “You are a mage.”
Had his situation been less desperate, Adam might have laughed. “You’re crazy. I can’t do what you did back in the cell. There’s got to be some other explanation.”
“Perhaps,” responded Aristomus. “Yet the evidence indicates otherwise. The true question is why I cannot sense anything of the Power in you. Nevertheless, our laws forbid judging a mage by any less than an assembly of three other mages. So the question of your guilt or innocence must wait.” He looked over at Henslow. “Captain, I will need an escort to take Adam Gray to the Council of Mages at Seir. We leave before dawn on the morrow.” Henslow grimaced, b
ut nodded in acquiescence.
Aristomus turned back to Adam and continued, “I am inclined to believe what you have said. Incredible as it sounds, I sense no deception in you. Yet we must follow the formalities. Consider yourself an ‘involuntary’ guest for the time being.”
“What about my shirt,” Adam asked. “This robe is okay, but it’s not something I’m used to.”
Grimacing in distaste, the mage replied, “Captain Henslow had your garb burned. I will see if there is something to better suit your... taste. Sleep well, Adam Gray. We ride early.”
Dismissed, Adam got up and followed the guard out of the room. The mayor, Henslow and Aristomus remained behind.
“You do not believe his story, do you?” asked Henslow. “I have never heard such utter hogwash.”
“And yet it had the ring of truth, did it not?” Aristomus enquired. “It matches Osler Dunham’s report. Such a tale would seem difficult to fabricate on short notice.”
“I agree,” chimed in the mayor. “There is something... indefinable about that young man. Yet I find myself liking him.”
“Aye, I understand the sentiment, Mayor Steir,” replied Aristomus. “For his sake, I hope the Council of Mages feels the same.”
A snort from Henslow left little doubt how he felt.
BACK IN HIS ROOM, ADAM found a second tray of food on the table. A small loaf of bread and some dates sat next to another cold flask beaded with moisture. Adam took a sniff. No mead this time at least. Instead, the flask held a light fruit punch. He poured some in a small, tin cup and took a sip. Light and flavorful, the punch had a slight effervescence that made his mouth tingle. But when he swallowed, it spread tendrils of warmth through his body. Downing the rest of the cup, he tore off a chunk of the bread to find meat and cheese baked inside. After one bite, he realized the interrogation left him ravenous. The sandwich and punch both soon disappeared.
Magician's Heir Page 4
