Thinblade

by David A. Wells

  Mason Kallentera smiled knowingly. “I’ve been a master wizard for many years. I have a number of spells that allow me to see magic being used around me and I make a habit of casting those spells every morning before I leave my chambers.”

  “You said that I cast a spell but I didn’t,” Alexander said. “I can just see colors when I relax my visual focus. I’ve been able to do it since I was thirteen. Are you saying that others can do the same thing with a spell?”

  “Of course. I have such a spell, as do many other wizards,” Mason explained. “It’s a relatively basic, though very useful, spell. Typically, a novice wizard will learn this kind of magic before moving on to spells of more complexity and greater power. Normally, casting such a spell requires a set of exercises or incantations that take a minute or so of preparation. You say you were never taught this as a spell but that it just manifested as a natural ability when you were thirteen?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “That is somewhat troubling, but also very interesting. I’ve never heard of such a thing. If I may ask, do you have any other such abilities?”

  “No, nothing,” Alexander said. “I’ve always wondered about it. My parents just told me it was a gift, and it has been. It’s saved my life on a number of occasions.”

  “Hanlon tells me your parents have both survived the mana fast. Have they taught you any spells?” Mason asked.

  “No, they always told me I would have to attempt the mana fast before I could use magic and neither of them seemed too eager for me to choose that path.”

  Wizard Kallentera folded his hands carefully on the table. He spoke very deliberately. “Alexander, you are already a natural sorcerer. Your ability to read a living aura is proof of that fact. With training you could very likely master other magic. If you attempted the mana fast and survived, you would probably become a very powerful wizard. Natural sorcerers typically make the best candidates for the training and have the highest chance of survival. I am concerned, however, about the way you have manifested your talent.”

  “What do you mean?” Alexander asked.

  “Your talent could be an anomaly that will never translate into an aptitude for deliberate manipulation of the firmament,” Mason said, “in which case you would likely not survive the mana fast. Understand, I am only speculating. There are a number of other possibilities that could explain the way you’re able to manifest magic. I’ll do some research into the matter and let you know once I understand the situation more fully. Also, there are a number of spells I believe may shed some light on your ability if you’ll permit me to cast them over you.”

  Alexander thought for a moment. “The more I know about magic, the better. What do I need to do?”

  “Nothing at the moment. I’ll make the necessary preparations. Once I’m ready, you must simply sit with me inside my Wizard’s Circle. It will be painless and may reveal a great deal that could be of use to you.”

  Hanlon motioned to Wizard Kallentera to forestall any further discussion. “Alexander, tomorrow will likely be a trying day for you. It would be wise to be well rested.”

  Alexander looked at the Forest Warden with apprehension, “How so?”

  “The nobles will wish to have a council meeting with you present. It will be tedious, take several hours, and will involve them posturing, preening, and speaking at length without saying very much at all.” Hanlon held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know, it’s a waste of time, but actually it’s not. The nobles effectively rule Glen Morillian and their support will be essential if you are to use this valley as a base of operations in the coming war. Mostly, they just want to feel important. If you give them that, they’ll probably acquiesce to your rule. But if they feel that you’ve snubbed them, they can be all manner of difficult. In the long run, it’ll be worth it to spend the morning listening to them blathering on.

  “Then there’s the matter of Mage Cedric’s vault. I think you should open it tomorrow afternoon. If it contains items that can be of use, it may take some time for you to master them.

  “Finally, tomorrow evening we’ll be holding a formal banquet in your honor.”

  Alexander started to shake his head but Hanlon held up his hands beseeching Alexander to hear him out. “This is another function that the nobles, and the people, will expect. They’ll be impossible to deal with if you don’t give them their party. They seem to live for such events. If I never had to sit through another grand banquet I would be a happy man, but my wife,” he smiled at Emily, “is another matter. She likes to entertain, and this will be one of the most-attended banquets of the year.”

  Emily smiled at Alexander. “I do enjoy a party, Alexander, but I promise you’ll be able to slip away if you wish after the formalities are over.”

  Alexander eyed her with good-natured suspicion, “Exactly what sort of formalities?”

  She leaned forward, eager to talk about the coming festivities. “Well, the evening starts with the arrival of the guests. Each guest is announced when they enter the ballroom. You will, of course, arrive last because you’re the guest of honor and everyone will want to see your entrance. Dinner will be served shortly thereafter. I’ve been preparing since the riders from the fortress gate brought news of your arrival. After dinner, but before dessert, you’ll be expected to recount your journey here and the circumstances of the mark you bear.” She stopped, clearly expecting an objection on this count and she wasn’t disappointed.

  Alexander had been trying to put the events of the past two weeks behind him. There had been a lot of pain and fear. He didn’t relish the thought of recounting the whole thing in front of a room full of strangers.

  “Is that really necessary?” He was starting to feel a whole new kind of anxiety build in the pit of his stomach.

  Emily nodded as she reached out and gave his forearm an affectionate squeeze. “I’m afraid it will be expected. More importantly, it will be your best opportunity to win over the nobles. If you regale them with a heroic story in a public setting, they’ll look petty and small if they don’t support you.”

  Alexander was starting to feel trapped. He had little experience at speaking in public and frankly preferred it that way. If he stammered and stuttered through his story, he would damage his cause. He could feel the heat rising in his face when Jack spoke up and offered him a lifeline.

  “Lady Alaric, is it permissible for one to speak on Alexander’s behalf?” Jack asked.

  She nodded, “Yes, of course. In fact it’s preferable. Most nobles believe it’s a sign of greater importance to have another speak for them.”

  Jack smiled with relish and enthusiasm. “My Lord, it would be my honor and privilege if you would permit me to recount your exploits for the assembled guests.”

  Alexander stared at him with a mixture of incredulity and relief. “Are you serious? Of course!” Jack smiled with such pure joy that Alexander could only shake his head. “You’re actually looking forward to standing up in front of all those people and telling them stories, aren’t you?”

  Jack nodded eagerly, still grinning like a schoolboy. “It is the calling of my life, the very reason I draw breath. To hold a crowd in thrall, hanging on my every word, is a power that no wizardry can match. I will do you proud, Alexander. By the time I’m done with them, you’ll be every bit the hero they hope you are.”

  Jack turned his attention to Emily, “Lady Alaric, if I may, it will be important that Alexander has the proper attire for such an occasion. His travel clothes simply won’t make the proper impression.”

  Emily was nodding, “Yes, of course, I’ve already made arrangements for you all to have a set of fine clothes fitted and ready by tomorrow evening. Our tailor will be by in the morning before breakfast to take measurements for the men and I was hoping Isabel would take Abigail to town for a dress. There are many fine shops that will make the necessary alterations on the spot.” Abigail beamed. She didn’t wear finery very often but she did enjoy it when the opportuni
ty presented itself.

  Alexander was starting to feel a little better about the evening. Jack’s offer to speak in his place put him at ease. He’d heard Jack spin a tale and was confident that the crowd would be pleased. He marveled at how something as seemingly meaningless as a banquet could be so important. He remembered another bit from one of his father’s lectures on strategy: “Battlefields come in all shapes and sizes. However they present themselves, you must always know the terrain and use it to your advantage to win the day.” Alexander was starting to realize just how much he had to learn. He’d imagined that this war would be fought on the open plain in pitched battles with a clear enemy. He was coming to realize that he would have to look at each situation he encountered from this point forward as if it were a battlefield.

  “Sounds like we have a busy day ahead of us. I could use some sleep,” Alexander said as he stood.

  Chapter 24

  Apparently, everyone else had been shown to their quarters while Alexander and Isabel were in the bell tower, so Isabel offered to show him where he would be sleeping. He was happy to have her walk with him because he had something he needed to ask her. Before he could work up the nerve, she asked the question that was clearly weighing on her mind.

  “Alexander, what do the colors tell you, in your magical vision?” She seemed almost nervous to hear the answer, as though he might have seen something in her that she wanted to protect.

  He shrugged, “Different things in different people. I can usually see if someone is lying to me. I can tell a lot about a person’s nature and it helps me see trouble coming in the dark because colors are visible to me even when it’s too dark to see the person they belong to.”

  She seemed to worry over his answer for a few minutes while they walked through the palace to his quarters. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to him. “Have you looked at me? I mean, at my colors?”

  He smiled gently and answered simply, “Yes.”

  She frowned as she worked up the nerve to ask the question that was really on her mind. “What did you see?” she said in a very small voice, almost as if she was afraid of the answer but had to know.

  Alexander waited for a moment. When Isabel didn’t look up at him, he reached out and gently raised her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “Your colors are clear and beautiful. You have a strength and goodness about you that is rare.”

  She smiled a little. When she felt her face start to flush, she turned and started down the hall again and didn’t say anything else until she stopped in front of a large door.

  “This is your room. If you need anything just pull the bell for the servant. Good night, Alexander,” she said and then smiled up at him without making any move to leave.

  His mouth went dry. The time had arrived for him to ask the question he’d been working over and over in his mind. He hesitated for only a moment before blurting it out, “Isabel, would you accompany me to the banquet tomorrow?” He held his breath.

  Her face lit up with a smile and her eyes came alive. She actually curtsied. “It would be my honor,” she giggled and added, “I was hoping you’d ask.” She gave him a little kiss on the cheek and headed down the hall, calling out over her shoulder with laughter in her voice, “Sleep well, Alexander.”

  He watched her until she turned the corner, flashing him one last smile as she went. Only then did he realize he was standing outside the door to his room wearing a big dumb grin. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching before he entered his room.

  It was much bigger than he expected. There was a well-dressed, older-looking gentleman standing in the middle of what looked like a sitting room. He was tall and thin with grey hair and a neatly trimmed silver mustache. The room was spacious and well decorated, carpeted from wall to wall in rich dark forest green. A low polished oak table sat in the center of the far end of the room with comfortable-looking couches on two sides and a pair of plush chairs on either end. Off to the right was a large stone fireplace with a cozy fire already burning and a set of four more comfortable-looking chairs facing the hearth, each separated from the other by a small table.

  On the wall opposite the entrance was a set of ornate glass doors framed in rich dark green curtains pulled back with heavy gold-colored ropes ending in tassels. The doors opened out onto a balcony that had to be several dozen feet above the courtyard below. Over the fireplace hung a mirror easily as tall as Alexander; it was tilted down at just the right angle so he could see himself when he stood in the center of the room. On the left wall were two remarkably beautiful tapestries that hung from floor to ceiling, each depicting the Glen Morillian valley from a different angle. Between the tapestries was a heavy, polished oak door that stood open. All around the edge of the room were freestanding heavy brass oil lamps that cast a warm glow against the high white ceiling.

  The well-dressed man bowed formally. “Your Majesty, I am Renwold. With your permission I will serve as your valet for the duration of your stay here at the palace.”

  Alexander was nearly speechless so he just stared at the man. Renwold took the silence as permission to continue. “I have turned down your bed for the evening, set out a selection of wine and banked the fire. If you find you are in need of anything at all, please just pull this cord and I will be along shortly.” He walked over to a heavy, braided, gold-tasseled white rope hanging from a small hole in the ceiling.

  “I will return at dawn with a hot beverage prior to the arrival of your tailor. If there isn’t anything else, Your Majesty, I will withdraw.”

  When he didn’t leave, Alexander blinked a few times before he found his voice, “Yes, of course, thank you, Renwold.”

  The valet bowed formally again and left, carefully closing the door on his way out. Alexander felt a great sense of relief to be alone. He bolted the door and did a quick search of his rooms. It was a suite of two rooms: the sitting room and a bedchamber with a small washroom. The bedchamber was richly furnished with a big feather bed against the center of the wall opposite the door. The large windows to the right of the door were covered with heavy, dark green curtains that were drawn closed. To either side of the bed was an identical nightstand, each with an ornately fashioned brass oil lamp burning brightly. A cushioned bench sat at the foot of the bed and a finely crafted mahogany armoire stood open on the wall to the left of the door. His pack, bedroll, and saddlebags were resting at the foot of the armoire but they hadn’t been opened. Within the armoire were several sets of clothes that looked like they might actually fit him, as well as a rich, comfortable-looking robe.

  Alexander was suddenly very tired. He went to the sitting room and extinguished all the lamps, checked the doors to the balcony to be sure they were locked, went into his bedroom and bolted the door. His final precaution was to put his long knife under his pillow before he undressed and climbed into the blissfully comfortable bed. Alexander had always preferred to be comfortable. He could sleep just fine on the ground if need be, but given the choice, he would rather have a warm soft bed.

  He woke early, feeling well rested and ready for the day to come. While there were a number of things he wasn’t looking forward to, he was looking forward to having Isabel on his arm at the banquet. While he lay in bed looking at the ceiling, he tried to imagine what she would look like in a dress. He decided that today was going to be a good day before he got up and threw open the curtains. The soft light of early dawn filled the room. He put on the robe and went into the sitting room. As he lit the second lamp, he heard a soft knock at the door.

  It was Renwold with a tray of fresh-baked pastries and a pot of hot tea with honey and cream. Alexander stood out on the balcony looking over the courtyard below, eating a sweetbread and sipping his very hot tea when the second knock came. Renwold admitted the tailor, who, very respectfully and very professionally, took Alexander’s measurements for his banquet finery. He enquired about Alexander’s taste in clothing and about the colors that Alexander preferred.

  Once he
finished with the measurements, he selected a set of clothes from the armoire and insisted that Alexander try them on. At this point Alexander felt like he’d been whisked away by forces greater than himself so he simply agreed. The tailor expertly adjusted the fit of the clothes he’d picked out and Alexander had to admit that they fit quite well.

  The tailor had selected a charcoal-grey long-sleeved shirt woven of finely spun soft wool; a broad, black leather belt; a pair of dark brown pants that matched the color of Alexander’s boots and a dark forest green vest with just a hint of gold filigree around the edges and a lining of black rabbit fur. And finally, a long brown leather cloak. Alexander was skeptical of the whole thing at first. He just figured it was easier to humor the man. If he looked ridiculous he could always change clothes once the man left but one look in the mirror changed his mind. The tailor knew his trade. Alexander was pleasantly surprised to see how good he actually looked in the outfit.

  He supposed it was important to present himself well to the nobles during council so he decided to go with it. He reminded himself that different battlefields required different weapons. Perhaps appearance was one of those weapons when the battlefield was a council chamber filled with self-important nobles.

  Once the tailor finished his work, Renwold announced that breakfast would be served in the family dining room and offered to escort Alexander through the maze of the palace. Before they left, Alexander tucked his long knife into the back of his belt and a smaller knife into his boot. He felt relatively safe here and it was pretty clear that the Alaric family was loyal to him. But he didn’t trust the nobles; any one of them could easily sell out to Phane, and all it took was one well-placed blade.