Ambrose ushered her into the wide empty aisle at the rear of the Council Chambers a step ahead of the others, just on the heels of King Stefan calling the Councillors to order.
Rows of benches, seating two or three people each at narrow tables, fanned out in four tiers to face a slightly raised dais with five deep-set chairs, the King in the middle. Narrow desks fronted the paired seats to either side of Stefan, but the King sat without encumbrance. When Whillim had taken that seat, he had raised the central chair by another step. Stefan had since had that added height removed.
A few heads turned at their tardy arrival as the door shut behind them, and an explosion of whispers spread to alert the rest of the room. Destiny watched the subtle interplay between the King and Lord Prichard, Stefan obviously not expecting her arrival. Beside Prichard, Emily looked both exhausted and frustrated. The little librarian scowled at Prichard even as the older man allowed a brief smirk to cross his features, then Emily stood and beckoned to Destiny.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sir Byndorf demanded in a high-pitched voice, the obnoxious Councillor rising from his seat near the centre of the room to demand the attention of all. His right arm rested in a sling, but that didn't stop him from flinging out his left hand in an exaggerated manner to point out Destiny before she could take more than one step in Emily's direction. "Remove this creature at once!"
"Byndorf," Stefan reprimanded, his voice nearly lost amidst the cacophony the other Council members continued to emit. Bartok slipped in next to Ambrose, and the two guards herded Destiny, along with Norbert and Darien, to the suddenly empty table next to Emily at the back of the room in the farthest corner.
"You will allow this?" The wheezy question came from the old man seated to Stefan's left. Lord Alphonse hadn't approved overmuch of Destiny when Whillim sought to rule, and the old man's opinion had soured even further as he sat at Destiny's trial, but the senior-most Council member would follow the King's lead, even if it meant he had to suffer Destiny's presence now. Like most everyone in the Chamber, Alphonse didn't know what Destiny might offer to these proceedings―Destiny herself didn't know, though she suspected Ambrose had come close to the mark when he suggested Prichard wanted something dramatic―and he awaited some instruction. Not many others did, each trying to outshout their neighbour instead.
Sir Pietor, who had accompanied them to the Field, sat quietly, his look of concern not aimed at Destiny, but rather to Prichard, then to the King. Beside the merchant noble, the Peacekeeper knight Sir Edvard, who had evaded the Destiny Seat for so long, also kept his peace, as did Prichard. The rest of the Council quibbled like schoolchildren.
Stefan finally just shook his head and sat back, pushing dark blond hair from his face as he darted a glare over his shoulder. As though that summoned him, Captain Frederick, a shadow behind his King until that moment, stepped forward.
"Silence!" the large man bellowed, the huge sound of his voice stunning the room to stillness.
Quickly shattered as someone wrenched the door open. The Prince of Bash took two steps into the room, sweeping the occupants with a haughty glare. The foreign dignitary noted the King's shock, the flush of anger darkening Stefan's blue eyes, before turning to find Destiny in her corner.
"Your Majesty," the foreigner intoned, his Dalsh clear though shaded by fury. "I must insist you remove this witch immediately!"
Stefan slowly drew himself to his feet. He looked the image of self-contained dignity wrapped in ultimate authority.
"Prince Tolnar," he answered, his tone cordial yet rimed in frost. "You stand within the Council Chambers of Dalasham, not the halls of Bash. While we respect your voice, it has no place here."
"Nor does that witch," Tolnar curled his lip, drawing his own royalty about himself. "Or perhaps Dalasham does not realise the perfidy perpetrated by this devil spawn?"
"We know precisely what this wizard has done," Stefan spoke stiffly, surprising Destiny with his defence of her title. "Her past crimes, perpetuated with the open aid and command of our brother, have led to a position where aiding us now will help her own cause. Her knowledge, in conjunction with that of Wizard Norbert from Bakaana, will serve us presently as we seek to defend our border. As you remain ignorant of our current situation, we will this once forgive your discourteous actions and allow you to hear of our councils in this matter, in deference to your niece who will soon have Dalasham's ear. If you cannot maintain your silence, we will have you removed. Is this understood?"
Tolnar opened his mouth, thought better of voicing a reply, and instead inclined his head minutely, crossing his arms to show his ire. He pierced Destiny with a dark frown, then found an empty chair about a third of the way to the dais upon which Stefan watched through narrowed eyes
The Councillors began to murmur again, anxious to discuss this unheard of action―one did not permit foreign dignitaries to sit in on a Council Session, no matter their rank in their own country, or the future rank of a relative. Stefan refused to allow their mumbling to grow for long. He slapped his hand on the table to his right even as he found his chair again, making more than one man jump with nerves.
"You will all sit and listen,"―this directed mostly to Byndorf, who had yet to regain his seat―"as we have no time for further theatrics. A wizard marches on us with the intent to crush us should we not bow to his demands, Prince Whillim his unexpected guest and potential ally."
Whether the thunderous silence that followed came as a result of Stefan's warning against dramatics, or through genuine shock, Destiny couldn't say.
"With the aid of a well-timed diversion, Whillim escaped his comfortable exile from Cranshaw," the King elaborated, his countenance guarded. "Suspecting this possibility, we had a man set to watch and follow him. In conjunction, I had sent men to watch for Wizard Nathan should he enter our realm. You will all remember the words of Wizard Marcus and the warnings of Wizard Destiny regarding Nathan.
"These two parties, the man following the Prince and those searching for Nathan, crossed paths yesterday when Whillim entered Nathan's camp, a day's ride north from the Innosvaran border. No longer an exercise in precaution, we have confirmation that two powerful wizards have entered our realm and march toward Dalasmar with a company of three score and ten, along with Prince Whillim who has offered to lead them to our gates in exchange for his life."
Sir Edvard, near to the front of the Chambers, rose to his feet in silence, regarding the King. Stefan considered briefly, then nodded to the man, granting him permission to speak.
"Can we negotiate with this man?"
"Unlikely," came Stefan's immediate response. "I have convened us this morning to discuss the disposition of troops, not to seek a diplomatic solution. Should one arise, I will endeavour to take advantage of it, but I do not anticipate such a scenario. Nathan does not march openly, preferring to hide behind a kind of concealing mist called a magic mirror." His blue gaze found Destiny for a moment, surprising her yet again with an unexpected knowledge of magic, before turning back to Edvard. "Had our man not caught up with Whillim when he did, likely we wouldn't have this information. That does not suggest a man who will negotiate."
"Yet you mentioned demands," Lord Alphonse said, rising slowly to his feet and facing the King. Although Stefan hadn't opened the floor for others to speak, he allowed the elder member his voice. Edvard ceded his place and returned to his seat. "What does he seek?"
Destiny went still, felt herself pale though she held her expression close. She knew very well what Nathan wanted, knew that Stefan knew also. Why wouldn't the King rid himself of Destiny, someone who had worked against him, to save his kingdom? Despite all the discussions in the sitting room with Emily and her people about Lesser Magics and how to modify Constance's spell, Destiny had dreaded this moment, when a man must weigh the lives of his countrymen against that of one former enemy. She might have determined to finally stop running from her brother, but the shiver of dread icing her veins let her know that she truly didn't w
ant these people to hand her over to Nathan's mercy, for he had none.
She braced herself for Stefan's answer, felt her jaw drop when it came.
"Nothing I will give him."
The King let his gaze rest on Destiny again, gave her a grim nod. She returned it as well as she could, pressing her lips tight. So much more noble than his brother, she thought.
"Nathan wants both Wizards Marcus and Destiny," Stefan said. "I will give him neither."
"Even to save your kingdom?" Alphonse wheezed, his snowy brows rising to his balding pate in bewilderment. "Your Majesty, surely their lives matter less than―"
"Giving Nathan what he wants will not save us," Stefan interrupted with iron in his tone, an imperious hand pointing the old Councillor back to his seat. Alphonse went ashen, his hands shaking as he gripped the table before him to steady his descent. Stefan swept the room with eyes grown colder than a winter sky. "Marcus demonstrated a distressing ease of incapacitating most in this room with a single spell. I will not release such a man into the custody of someone far worse so that they might plot together how to overthrow a kingdom. Nor would I release one of only two people within our land with the knowledge and ability to potentially defend us from this wizard into the hands of an enemy.
"You continue to see Lady Destiny as a threat rather than an ally. This must stop if we wish to survive."
Several murmurs, cut off into barely contained sounds of distress, emerged from around the Chambers. Destiny kept her focus on Stefan, not wanting to read the expressions of those around her.
"Wizard Destiny, please remind the Council why you helped Prince Whillim."
"For sanctuary," she responded promptly, receiving the slightest nod in return. "He promised a safe haven where I could create and construct a specific spell away from the prying eyes of other wizards, and in return he wanted a spell to erase all memory of you."
A few muted grumbles met her statement, but none dared claim ignorance. Perhaps Prince Tolnar of Bash hadn't known the full details of Whillim's bargain with her, but enough information had come out in her trial, to which every Councillor had had access, that most everyone knew Destiny had traded the power of the Destiny Seat for security. They didn't know the status of the spell she had tried to fashion to use on Nathan, nor, in Destiny's opinion, did they need to know. In all honesty, she had spent far too much time and effort on Whillim's behalf that her original intent hadn't received enough attention. Her experiment into memory spells that she could adapt to suit her purpose didn't give her full confidence that such a spell would work on Nathan, and she couldn't afford a failed attempt. She didn't think she'd survive it.
Not that the Council needed to know that.
"You suggest we rely on this wizard to defend us against the invader?" Sir Byndorf asked, again on his feet. Destiny must have missed Stefan giving him leave to speak, but the King didn't object to the question. Instead, Stefan waited for him to continue. "This woman whose power has already failed to achieve the goal she set out? You would entrust her to safeguard us?"
"How do you imagine she failed?" Prichard drawled beside her. Destiny glanced at him, saw through his feigned air of nonchalance to the dangerous cunning and irritation flashing in his dark eyes. She had come to recognise in this noble, who put on aspects of incompetence others scoffed at, a brilliant mind with a devious nature. More to this man than meets the eye, should any look carefully enough to see it.
Byndorf tossed a contemptuous look over his shoulder, barely hiding a sneer.
"I see my King before me, not his upstart brother. Destiny's spell failed in the end. Dare we risk placing ourselves in her hands again?"
"Her spell didn't fail," Stefan said softly, yet with enough force to draw every eye. "Every one of us in this room fell prey to the Destiny Seat save for Wizard Norbert, and even he would have felt its effect had he sat it. If Emily hadn't found a way to break the spell, Whillim would have succeeded completely. Do I trust Wizard Destiny with my life, given her past actions?" Stefan met her gaze, held it. He inclined his head the smallest degree. "Perhaps not. Do I trust her to do all in her power to stop Wizard Nathan from reaching Riverbend and subjugating my people? Absolutely."
Destiny blinked her surprise, then felt herself smile slightly.
"Why?" Byndorf sputtered, the back of his leg knocking his seat as he stumbled in shock, dropping him unceremoniously down into his chair.
"She has a vested interest in evading Nathan's grasping clutches and in keeping Dalasham's secrets safe."
"What secrets?" demanded Tolnar, his fierce eyes glued to Stefan. The King gazed back placidly. Destiny took a risk.
"Secrets involving magic," she said, seeing Stefan's eye twitch as he turned to look at her. "Secrets my brother would destroy this land for, uncaring of whom he warped or killed in his lust for power." Stefan's irritation morphed into one of wary understanding. Destiny had twined her secret with his, and waited to see which would pique curiosity first.
"Brother?" Lord Alphonse ventured, and Destiny breathed a silent sigh of relief, no doubt shared by Stefan.
"Wizard Nathan, sired by the same loathsome Wizard Shelton who fathered me in an effort to augment power not his own. The same cruel and abusive Wizard Shelton whom I killed in a desperate effort to survive, for which Nathan has hunted me for the past seven years."
Destiny bit her lip hard, tasting blood. She had certainly not intended to reveal that, yet now that the words had emerged, she refused to take them back, daring any to catch her eye with an unrepentant glower.
"Wizard Shelton held the title of a Level Five wizard in the records of the Schools of Wizardry," a reedy voice piped up beside her. She turned her head to stare in astonishment at Norbert. The wiry man went on in a thoughtful voice, his near-sighted gaze seeming to search the air for confirmation, though Destiny sensed steel behind his words. It seemed Prichard didn't stand alone in cultivating a false image of an innocuous persona.
"He listed his protege, one Wizard Nathan, at Level Five Prime, a position reserved for those of exceptional prowess. That Wizard Destiny could defeat a Level Five wizard at such a tender age, and evade a Prime for so long, suggests she holds considerable skill. You would do well to cultivate a healthy relationship with her rather than a continued animosity based on prejudice and fear."
"Level Five," scoffed Byndorf, who didn't bother to lift his lazy arse from his chair this time. "Hardly seems worth the effort of all this fuss."
For a moment, no one said anything. Destiny wondered how long Norbert would let them sit with the misconception. But a tiny voice spoke up instead.
"A solid year of study and decent inborn skill might see a wizard achieve Level One status," Emily said. "Think of a Level Five wizard as something more akin to a master swordsman, someone who has studied and practised for years to sharpen skill and instinct. A Prime goes one step beyond that, his aptitude and experience putting him among the rare elite."
"How many levels exist in this system?" Stefan wanted to know.
"Five," Darien replied, the Chief Librarian adding his knowledge to Emily's. "Putting Wizard Shelton in the top tier, his son surpassing him."
"To put that in context," Norbert clarified, "Wizard Marcus, whom you said incapacitated the room with one spell, can claim a Level Three status on his good days. Certainly he has more proficiency with wards than layered spells, which gives him an advantage. But in comparison to Wizard Nathan, assuming Shelton did not exaggerate his skill, Marcus has middling ability. Rather like a low-ranking soldier going up against the Captain of the Guard. Both possess skill, but in general the Captain will out-master the Corporal."
"What Level do you hold, Wizard Destiny?" Sir Pietor asked quietly from his place in front of where Destiny sat.
She snorted softly, dropping her gaze to the table top under her lightly fisted hand.
"I had rather unconventional training and never received an official Level of wizardry," she admitted, refusing to let years of unnoti
ced hard work hinder her accomplishments now. "However, I surpassed Nathan before I reached puberty."
Pietor smiled and nodded, as though he had expected nothing less.
"And you, Wizard Norbert?" he turned his gaze to Destiny's companion. "What position do you hold?"
"I keep the records at the Frontier School," Norbert replied serenely. "And I assist the head of that School in most matters. Suffice it to say that I know the abilities of all wizards listed in our archives, and with Wizard Nathan and his companion quickly approaching, you stand in very real danger."
Destiny noticed that Norbert hadn't actually answered Pietor's question, saw by the speculation on both Prichard's and Emily's faces that this oversight hadn't escaped their attention either. For his part, Norbert merely blinked innocently as he squinted toward the front of the room. He and Prichard could give each other lessons in subterfuge, she thought, then decided that what they didn't know or couldn't find out between the pair of them wouldn't fill the pages of a decent-sized book. Just how much power do you command? she wondered as he pushed a lock of wavy chestnut hair from his olive-toned face, hiding a tiny smile behind his hand.
"Wizard Destiny," Stefan's voice suddenly carried an edge of command, cutting off the murmurs that had begun among the Councillors. "Will you assist us in the defence of Dalasham against Wizard Nathan and his companions using whatever means necessary?"
"I will, Your Majesty," she answered over the distressed mumbling of those uncomfortable with the King's phrasing.
"Wizard Norbert, will you also so aid us?"
Norbert took longer to reply, but he finally offered a solemn nod.
"To the best of my ability, I will extend such aid."
The Forgotten Magic Page 22
