The Innocent Mage

by Karen Miller

  ‘No, nothing. But you can stop the carriage here and let us out. We’ll walk to the Tower.’

  ‘Right you are, sir,’ said the invisible Matcher.

  ‘Walk?’ said Asher, scandalised. ‘Why? It’ll take forever, and I got chores—’

  The prince closed the ceiling flap. ‘No, you haven’t. I told you, Matt knows you’re with me. Are you suggesting he’ll presume to tell me I can’t borrow one of my own employees?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then that’s all right, isn’t it?’

  The carriage slowed to a halt. The prince opened the door and stepped down, Asher at his heels, then closed it and thumped on the side with his fist. ‘Off you go, Matcher!’ As the carriage pulled away, he turned to Asher and grinned. ‘That’s better. We’ll have time to finish our conversation now.’

  He started walking. Asher stared after him, dumbfounded. He was beginning to think he had no idea who this man really was. In the market square, the day they met, he’d been … almost an equal. In Justice Hall, dressed in all that legal finery, weighed down by the solid gold crown and duty, the prince had been remote and unreachable. Stern. Frightening, almost. Had seemed years and years older. Now, whistling his way into the distance, he seemed as young and foolhardy as Jed.

  Regular folk picked ’emselves a person to be and stuck with that. Trust royalty to be different.

  Huffing in annoyance he undid a couple more shirt buttons and rolled up his sleeves. Then he jogged after the prince, caught him up, and fell into step beside him along the crushed and pounded blue gravel road that led straight to the palace. The wide thoroughfare was lined both sides with statuesque djelba trees. Their branches met overhead in a dappling canopy. Waxy pink blossoms the size of dinner plates soaked the cooling dusk air in sweetness.

  ‘I’ll start,’ said the prince, as though they’d never stopped talking, ‘by answering your question with a question of my own. How would you like to work for me, Asher?’

  Asher glanced at him sideways. ‘I am workin’ for you.’

  ‘Indirectly, yes. Directly, you work for Matt. I want to know if you’d be willing to work for me. With me. As my assistant.’

  ‘Assistant to what?’

  ‘The announcement has yet to be made public, and I expect you to hold your tongue until it is, but His Majesty has appointed me the kingdom’s first Olken Administrator. In many ways, it’s just a formality. Practically speaking, I’ve been fulfilling the position’s duties for nearly a year. Ever since my majority. Until now they’ve been tasks traditionally performed by the reigning monarch, so I’ve been performing them in His Majesty’s name. In a nutshell, it means I attend to matters of concern that touch both our peoples, wherever they arise throughout the kingdom. It’s like being a living bridge between Doranen and Olken. The title “Olken Administrator” may be new, but the work itself began the day Barl and my ancestors came over the mountains and into this land.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Asher cautiously. ‘Sounds like a bloody big job, sir. Why don’t the king want it?’

  ‘“Want” has nothing to do with it,’ the prince snapped. ‘It’s a question of how best can His Majesty’s resources be used for the good of the kingdom. He is consumed by the WeatherWorking. My sister studies night and day to become his worthy successor. Her Majesty and the Master Magician also have their duties, with no time to spare for extra burdens, whereas I—’

  Asher watched the prince’s lips whiten with pressure. He didn’t need to hear the sentence finished. Gar the Magickless needed something to do with himself, and his da the king had found it for him.

  For the distance of two and a half trees, they walked in silence. Then the prince finished the sentence anyway. ‘Whereas I,’ he said carefully, ‘am in a unique position to be of use, not only to His Majesty but to all the people of Lur, Doranen and Olken alike. I consider it a privilege … but I can’t do it alone.’

  ‘Alone? You got y’self a whole Tower full of folks, ain’t you, all fallin’ over ’emselves to do what you want?’

  ‘I have a staff, yes, and they are invaluable,’ agreed the prince. ‘But I’ve learned a great deal since I started this work, mostly about how much I don’t know about your people. I find myself needing something more than secretaries and clerks. Someone more. I need an Olken to work hand in glove with me, Asher. Someone who can help me be that bridge between our peoples. Someone who is unimpressed with the trappings of royalty, the seduction of court life, the social advantages of an elevated position. Someone with an instinctive sense of justice, who I can trust to be my right hand, my eyes, my voice, who won’t be swayed by the flattery of those seeking favour and who I know will always tell me the truth, whether I want to hear it or not. In short, Asher, I need you.’

  Asher couldn’t help it: he laughed. ‘You need your head read, more like.’

  ‘Really? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong about you? That you do care for all the pomp and circumstance and fawning flattery that royalty so often inspires?’

  ‘No, sir! I couldn’t care less for all that codswallop!’

  ‘Well, then?’ said the prince. The way he said it was a challenge.

  Asher shook his head. ‘Well then, I don’t want to do it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why d’you reckon? You’ll be wantin’ me to wear fancy clothes, won’t you? Shirts with lace on ’em and little bits of ribbon and embroidery and suchlike. You’ll expect me to stop soundin’ like m’self and talk like a posh City Olken instead, won’t you? Aye, you will! And I’ll have to hobnob with folk who can’t eat a meal less they use seven different forks, and think an honest workin’ Olken man like me be good for nowt but opening doors for ’em!’

  The prince was nodding. ‘I see. You’re afraid.’

  ‘I ain’t no such thing!’

  ‘No?’ The prince’s expression darkened. Became grim. ‘Well, I am.’

  ‘What of?’ said Asher, surprised. ‘Seems to me y’be doing a bang-up job. The way the folks cheer you in the streets. How you sat in Justice Hall today, as grand as the king hisself, you—’

  ‘Don’t.’ The prince stopped walking. ‘Don’t ever compare me to the king. It’s not … proper.’

  Asher swung round to face him and shrugged. ‘All right. But still. Y’can’t be bollocksin’ things up too bad or he wouldn’t be making all this official, would he?’

  They’d reached the turn-off that led away from the palace to the Tower. The prince started walking again, along the narrower road, and beckoned Asher to keep up. ‘I’m muddling through, Asher. I’m treading water, and so far I’ve managed not to drown myself, or anybody else. But I can trust to luck no longer. I’ve known for months now I needed Olken help to do this job properly. I was beginning to despair of ever finding the right person to be that help.’

  ‘And you reckon the right person is me?’ said Asher. ‘You must be runnin’ a fever, I reckon. Or else that crown you had on today’s gone and bent your brain.’

  The prince frowned. ‘I love my father, Asher, as doubtless you love yours. I cannot fail in this. If I do, the king will be forced to resume those responsibilities I’ve assumed. At all costs, I must prevent that.’

  ‘Why? You said all this bein’ a bridge malarkey usually got done by the … the reigning monarch. Why can’t the king do it?’ He watched the prince’s face go very still, and his heart boomed hard against his ribs. ‘All right, sir. I reckon it’s time you and me started rowin’ this boat in the same direction. What ain’t you tellin’ me, eh? What’s so sinkin’ important about you doin’ this Administrator stuff, and not the king?’

  For the first time since Asher had laid eyes on the man, the prince looked uncertain. ‘Can I trust you?’

  Asher sighed. ‘What kind of a daft bloody question is that? One minute you’re askin’ me to be your right-hand man ’cause I be so upright and incorruptible, and the next you want to know if I can be trusted? Reckon you need to make up your mind. Sir.�
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  Temper flashed lightning-fast across the prince’s face. ‘I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, Asher. The fact that I’ll permit you a certain amount of leeway is hardly the same as allowing you to—’

  ‘I see,’ said Asher. ‘So when you said you wanted someone who’d tell you the truth whether you wanted to hear it or not, sir, what you really meant was—’

  ‘All right!’

  Silence as the prince collected his thoughts and feelings. Asher pushed his hands into his pockets and amused himself by humming one of Da’s favourite ditties under his breath. When he was done, and the prince still showed no sign of moving, he said, ‘If we stand around here much longer, some bird’s goin’ to think we’re statues and shit on us.’

  The prince stirred. Looked at him, all uncertainty banished. ‘What do you know of WeatherWorking?’

  Asher shrugged. ‘Nowt beyond what any spratling knows. The WeatherWorking and the Wall march hand in hand. Without Weather Magic we’d go back to the old days, when the weather was unchancy. We’d be at the mercy of storms and floods and droughts and famine. WeatherWorking feeds the Wall, keeps it strong. If it fails, the Wall fails, and there’d be nowt to keep us safe from all the evil that lies beyond the mountains. It’s our duty to live our lives according to Barl’s Law, so that never happens.’

  Lurking humour resurfaced, briefly. ‘A neat summary. Which means you can’t have slept through every Barlsday sermon you ever heard.’

  Asher winced. Damn. How could the prince have noticed that? The royal family sat up the front of the palace chapel, while he always made sure to find the most shadowy corner right down the back. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Relax. I won’t tell. Holze is a good man, but even I have to admit his sermons are a trifle longwinded. The trick is to doze with your eyes open.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Asher. ‘Right.’ He’d be sure to try it, very next Barlsday.

  ‘Anyway. About WeatherWorking. The thing is, it’s very difficult and requires enormous amounts of energy. His Majesty gets tired.’ The prince frowned. ‘Exhausted. And before I assumed these extra duties, he would deplete his reserves of strength attending to them. At first he resisted the idea of relinquishing the obligation, but in the end Her Majesty, the Master Magician and I prevailed.’

  So. Not so much a case of ‘find the poor magickless prince something to do’, mayhap, as a matter of necessity. Or both. Two fish caught with the same hook. Asher thought of his own da. The arguments they’d had about slowing down. Taking care.

  ‘Reckon fathers don’t take too kindly to their sons reminding ’em they ain’t as young as once they were.’

  The prince sighed. ‘No. Mind you,’ he added sharply, ‘this in no way suggests that the king is unfit. Let me make that abundantly clear. He is as capable today as he was at his coronation. The kingdom could rest in no stronger hands.’

  ‘I never said otherwise. You just want to do the right thing by your da. Help him, like a good son should. Reckon I can see that. Reckon I admire you for it.’

  ‘So you do see, then, how important it is that I not fail as Olken Administrator? Failure would mean he’d resume those duties. Tax his strength, when all his strength must be given to WeatherWorking. And failure, my failure, would be used against him to—’

  Another silence. The sun was sinking fast now. Long shadows crept across the manicured grounds on either side of them, through the trees, across the road. Asher swallowed.

  ‘What d’you mean, used against him? Who’d want to use you to hurt the king?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Nobody,’ said the prince eventually, not looking at him. ‘It’s complicated. Just tell me you’ll change your mind, Asher. Tell me you’ll take the job.’

  Feeling cornered, pressured, Asher stamped his heels into the roadway. A flock of nightbirds flew overhead, their harsh cries scraping the sky.

  ‘This be politics, eh?’ he said accusingly. ‘You be askin’ me to mucky myself with politics. That ain’t my job. My job’s fishin’ and sailin’ and shit shovellin’. Honest dirty work. I leave politics to the likes of … of …’

  ‘Me?’ said the prince, smiling faintly.

  ‘You’re different,’ muttered Asher. ‘You got born to it without a say-so. You want me to choose it. On purpose.’ He released a hard-held breath. ‘Look. There’s got to be a hundred Olken out there who’d lick the road clean from the City gates to your front door to get a job like this.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said the prince. ‘Which is just one of the many reasons why you’re perfect for the position. As my right hand, you’d be advising me on a wide range of Olken matters. Customs. Ways of thinking and experiencing the world that I, as a Doranen, might never understand. No matter my good intentions or willingness to learn. It means that in some cases I’d be letting you make the decisions altogether if I thought you were the better qualified to do so. Most people would eventually be overcome by that much power. They’d abuse it. But you’re not most people, Asher. In all honesty, you’re not like anybody I’ve ever met before. Olken or Doranen.’

  ‘And that’s what today were all about, eh? Checkin’ to see if I thought about things the right way?’

  The prince hesitated. ‘Partly. Partly it was to see if you thought about things at all. Not everybody does.’

  Asher felt his lip curl. ‘And especially not fishermen turned stable hands?’

  ‘Don’t be ludicrous,’ snapped the prince. ‘Some of the biggest fools I’ve ever met in my life can boast a university education and blood lines that trace back to the Founding Families. If I thought like that, Asher, we wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of the road discussing this, would we? You’d be in the stable yard shovelling shit and I’d be … somewhere else.’

  Fair point. ‘So why are we standin’ here in the middle of the road discussin’ this? Sir?’

  ‘Because I started thinking about appointing an assistant a week after His Majesty agreed to let me take over from him, and nearly a year later you’re the only man I’ve met who I can imagine trusting to do the job!’

  Asher stared. ‘You’re stark staring bonkers. You don’t hardly know me from a hole in the ground.’

  ‘I know enough!’

  It was impossible not to feel flattered. Hating himself for it, Asher scowled. ‘And what about all the other palaver? Clothes and—’

  ‘Naturally,’ the prince said carefully, ‘you’d need to dress a little more formally than you do now. But there’s no law that says you have to wear lace. As for your accent …’ He smiled. ‘I confess it could do with a little citifying. Not because there’s anything wrong with it, as such,’ he added, holding up a hasty hand, ‘but because, like it or not, first impressions count and you’ll want people to be impressed with your abilities, not distracted by the way you speak.’

  ‘Huh.’ Asher sniffed. That didn’t sound too bad. ‘All right. Say I agree. How much’ll you pay me? ‘Cause I don’t reckon to be gettin’ myself all hot and bothered over politics for a miserly twenty-five trins a week.’

  The prince’s expression was a mingling of relief, hope and amusement. ‘What about fifty trins a week, plus all meals and a suite in the Tower, plus a wardrobe more fitting to your new station. And a horse. Say … Cygnet? Is that recompense unmiserly enough?’

  Asher nearly swallowed his tongue. Cygnet? For his own? And fifty trins, every week? Forget about buying a lone modest, second-hand smack. He’d be able to buy a whole fleet of fishing boats, every one of ’em brand new, when he went back home to Restharven with that kind of money.

  The dizzying thought stirred his conscience to life. He sighed, and shook his head. ‘Reckon it’s more than enough, sir. But I can’t do it. Sorry. Thanks for askin’, though. I be right flattered.’

  Taken aback, the prince stared. ‘Why can’t you? Don’t try to tell me you’re not interested. You’re not that good a liar.’

  Asher scowled, hating to turn his back on all that
money. Hating the prince for offering it to him. ‘’Cause I weren’t plannin’ on stayin’ in Dorana longer than a year, all right? And this job you want me to do, that’s the kind of job as goes for longer than that. For life, maybe. I mean, if your da’s tired now he ain’t goin’ to be less tired this time next year, is he? You’re goin’ to be Olken Administrating till your hair’s gone grey and your teeth’ve all dropped out. And you’ll be needin’ yourself an assistant as can go grey alongside you. That won’t be me. I got other fish to fry.’

  ‘It’s true I’ll be Olken Administrator for as long as His Majesty reigns,’ said the prince. ‘And I pray Barl grants him many more years to pursue his sacred calling.’ His lips pressed hard against his holyring. ‘But no man lives forever. Our Doranen magic can do many things, Asher, but it can’t make us immortal. What my sister will want of me once she becomes WeatherWorker is anyone’s guess. It might well be that both I and my assistant will find ourselves without a purpose the day after she ascends the throne.’

  ‘All right, so mayhap you won’t be Olken Administrating without your teeth. But the thing is, I made a promise to my da, see? I promised him I’d be away one year and not a day longer. I ain’t about to go back on my word, not even for fifty trins a week and a horse like Cygnet. You can’t expect me to. And if y’do … well …’ He glared, defiant. ‘Then I reckon you ain’t the man I thought you were.’

  The prince ignored that. Stared at the ground instead, thinking. ‘Of course you must keep your promise,’ he said at last. ‘But that doesn’t mean you can’t accept this offer. You can still make a valuable contribution, Asher. And when the times comes, I won’t stop you from leaving. You have my word.’

  Oh. So that was one objection down, a score more to go. Politics. The claptrap that went with royalty. The ruckus of change. He had hisself a good life in the stables. The work wasn’t demanding, it wasn’t beyond him, and he had friends there. Even more important, he had no enemies.