They stood now on a rise talking about what was ahead.
“Do we have anyone among the Vested who is a specialist in the academic side of magic?”
Reuth nodded. “We have a scholar. He’s Cremond and was formerly of the Academy.”
“Could you fetch him, please?”
Reuth did so. He was a man getting close to moving into his seventh decade, tall with a head of thick silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard the same color. He looked tired but his pale, penetrating eyes were alert. “You wished to see me?” he asked.
It was obvious to Marth that no one was quite sure how to address Leo but the young king didn’t seem to be worried about that for now.
“You are?”
“Trellon. Formerly Professor Trellon.”
“Thank you. Professor, I need to learn some details of the Vested magic and I understand you are something of an authority.”
Trellon seemed surprised. “I wouldn’t call myself that. I suppose, though, I’ve been around the Academy long enough to have a solid grasp of the magics we find in the Vested.”
Leo nodded thoughtfully. “I’m interested in how to harness magic.”
“Oh, I see.” At this Trellon gave a brief blink that turned into an uncertain shrug. “You mean wielding someone else’s power? It has not been successful in the past.”
“What has been attempted?”
“Oh, amazing concepts from trying to reflect it off mirrors, trying to concentrate it through glass . . . even water. I think the Academy tried to tap into it via the Vested’s dreams even. And two Vested tried to pass on their powers to each other but look,” he said, shaking his head, “none of this came to any avail. And I would be lying if I said any of us took it seriously.”
“Did you ever try concentrating magic from many into one source?”
Trellon looked up to the graying dawn as he pondered the question. Then he returned his pale gaze to Leo. “No, I can’t say I recall anything of that nature.” He frowned. “We were just trying to get one Vested’s magic wielded by or through another. We hadn’t even thought beyond that challenge. What do you have in mind?”
Leo gave a tight mirthless smile. “I recently visited a soothsayer. He said nothing of any consequence for the most part—making no reference to my background, for example—but as I was leaving he told me that I should regard myself as the family chalice. That’s all he said.”
“What does it mean?” Reuth asked.
“You realize he guessed who you were,” the professor said somberly, a silvered eyebrow lifting.
“That’s what I’m hoping. But he didn’t seem at all interested in that. Perhaps the gold sovereign I gave him helped. But while he laughed off his ‘tellings’ as a bit of fun, there was something in the look he gave me when he described me as the family chalice.”
“He wanted you to work it out.”
Leo nodded. “And I think today I must.”
Trellon smiled. “May I try?”
“Go ahead. Sit with me, professor.”
“So,” Trellon began once he was comfortable. “Chalice is a royal cup, used in the coronation of sovereigns.” Leo gave a small grunt of agreement. “So that was him telling you that he believed you were of a royal family.”
“Yes . . . and that’s as far as I tend to get. The cup can have other significance, of course,” he said frowning. “Full, empty . . .” He shrugged and grimaced. “Poisoned?”
“Or maybe you’re looking at it too deeply,” Trellon suggested. “Perhaps this man, though subtle in his method, meant something far more obvious.”
Leo ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Like what?”
“Simply that he acknowledged your royalty and was telling you that you are the receptacle.”
“Receptacle?”
“The bearer, the holder . . . the . . . the . . .” It was Trellon’s turn to search as he thought through the critical meaning. “The chalice is a royal cup,” he repeated slowly, his eyes squinting into the distance as he reached for what he sought. And then he closed his eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face. “The vessel,” he said as though arriving with a sigh after running a race. “Your majesty, I think your fortune teller was no charlatan and he was trying to tell you what he truly saw . . . that you are the Vessel of the Valisars.”
Leo felt his gut twist with anticipation and a nervous energy he felt deep in his heart. “Vessel,” he repeated softly. “So I carry something.”
Trellon nodded excitedly. “Yes . . . yes of course. I think I understand now.”
“What?” Leo urged and both Reuth and Marth had moved closer.
“You were on the right path. Your question about our trials to find a way to wield the Vested magic is so relevant.”
Leo’s face was eager, as flushed with anticipation as the dawn sky was luminous with soft pink lightening its previous gray. “Tell me I can harness the power of the Vested, professor, and I will build you your own Academy anywhere in Penraven. I’ve been told so many times I have no Valisar magic—tell me that’s not true.”
Trellon burst out laughing. “Well . . . perhaps. A chalice on its own and empty is powerless. But it can be filled with anything; in your case, perhaps power. I think, your majesty, your own Valisar magic was simply dormant because it has no power on its own. You must be filled with another’s magic. We have witnessed the aegis magic working through you, keeping you safe. Now I suspect if we direct the magic of the Vested through you, your true magic will shine, and you will be able to carry the magic—harness it as you rightly guessed . . . and wield it.”
Leo stood up and punched the air. “Not powerless at all! Just dormant!”
“What does this mean?” Marth demanded. “We can ask one of the Vested to use you as a device to magnify magic?”
“No, general,” Leo said with a triumphant edge to his voice. “We ask all of the Vested here to channel all of their combined magical energy through me. With Perl’s protection I can ride to that convent and slay that entire Green army.” He stood. “Thank you, Trellon. I am in your debt.”
“Majesty, it is a pleasure. My small talent is to be able to recall vast tracts of text. I have a memory that forgets nothing I see. May I be the first to lend you what little magic I have?”
“It would be an honor to accept it,” Leo said. He turned to Perl. “Help me now, Perl, and I will keep my promise to you. Try it, Trellon.”
The professor didn’t seem to do anything particular except look at Leo but Leo smiled all the same. “I can feel it. Perl?”
Even she looked surprised, nodding with amazement, her face for once not pulled into a sour grimace.
Leo laughed. “Can you teach the others?”
“There’s nothing to teach. I have tried to gift my magic previously—there’s nothing hard about the transfer—but it’s in the acceptance of the gift. No one has ever been able to take it until now.”
“Thank you, all,” Leo said, looking around. “Now none of you need be in the maw of any danger. This will be my fight. Let’s ride to the convent. How long, Marth?”
“We can arrive by the time the sun has barely fully risen, your majesty.”
“Good. Position the Vested in a place of safety behind me. I don’t want any of the soldiers’ arrows to be within striking distance of them. The Greens are not to even guess what is happening or how it’s happening. I want to have Loethar alone and on his knees before me before I slaughter him. We make history today . . . the Valisar crown will be returned to its rightful king.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At the convent the immiment threat of Piven and Stracker’s Greens overrode all the individual hostilities between the group now trapped behind its walls. A vague truce had laid itself softly around its visitors and Elka took a moment’s pause to reflect with wonder how quickly sworn enemies had become allies. If they survived this new and terrible danger, there was potential for genuine healing. Even now she shook her head in a private but h
appy bewilderment to see Gavriel, Loethar, Kilt and Corbel talking animatedly without sneers on their faces.
She noticed with a pang of something that felt like sorrow that Gavriel was deferring to Loethar, nodding as her lover’s natural leadership skills were coming to the fore. Kilt, she saw, had plenty to say too—he was a leader in his own right, used to having his orders followed.
Her heart soared. If this could happen there was hope for the empire, for former royalists finding a new way to live alongside the imperialists. Of course, it remained unclear who would lead this new imaginary union.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Loethar call her name. She looked up and walked over to where the men had clustered. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”
Loethar smiled. She knew that smile. It came rarely but he saved it for her. “Gavriel thinks we still have time to get the nuns out of here and away into the mountains.”
She nodded. “Wise. But they would need to leave now.”
“You’re sure they could survive?”
Elka shrugged. “At most they’d have to spend a couple of nights in the elements. Whichever way we look at this I doubt very much our enemies are planning a siege. They’re not going to hold off taking this place by force.”
“Exactly,” Kilt said. “We have to get the women out of here.”
Elka blinked. “Well, not all the women but certainly the vulnerable ones. I, for instance don’t—” She stopped and stared as the men exchanged awkward looks. “What?” she asked. “What?” she said more firmly, looking between Gavriel and Loethar. “Oh no,” she added, finally grasping what had been decided without her permission.
“You are best placed, Elka. You know these mountains better than any.”
“Not better than Gavriel!” she snapped. “And don’t you dare add that it’s also because I’m a woman.”
“I definitely wouldn’t dare,” Kilt recommended to Loethar. “This woman is very scary.”
She threw the outlaw a special glare. “You’ll keep for another time, Faris.”
“Elka, we can rely on you to get them out safely,” Gavriel tried. “We’re not trying to get you away to safety with the other women. We really do need someone we can trust, someone who can confront trouble if it raises its head and above all someone who knows how to survive out there for as long as it takes.”
“Besides,” Loethar added. “Of all of us here, it’s you whom the Abbess trusts. She would entrust the lives of her nuns to you.”
Elka gave a low growl of anguish.
“They must go immediately,” Gavriel urged. “Come on, Elka, I’ll help you round them up.”
“Er . . . Elka, may I speak with you first?” Loethar said. “It will take only a moment.”
He led her away from the others. She could feel Gavriel’s gaze following them like a dagger, desperately wanting to plunge into Loethar’s back.
“I wish you wouldn’t make it quite so obvious,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt Gavriel any more than—”
“This is not about us or de Vis,” he assured. And she noticed he suddenly looked uncertain.
“What is it?” she said, frowning.
“My wife,” he began.
All the warmth in her belly fled, instantly replaced by her own jealous monster. She hated that he had a wife to come between them. Aware of the men watching them, she took a step away from him when he tried to take her hand. “No. Listen, don’t touch me. Don’t touch me again. In fact, thank you for reminding me that you are married. Perhaps my leaving with the nuns is the right thing for both of us. I won’t come back from the mountains.”
He sighed. “Then I will have to come and find you.”
“Stop it,” she warned. “Don’t speak as if you are in a position to be with me.”
His eyes met hers and they were soft and so filled with affection she actually hated him. She knew there would never be another man for her, and she hated that he would leave her alone forever.
“I am with you,” he said calmly. “I never wish to see the woman I married for convenience ever again.”
Elka blinked. “So what is . . . ?” she trailed off, unsure of what he meant.
“This is really not the time and place for this conversation but you need to know that I never once loved or spoke of love to or used the word love in connection with Valya. One day when there is time I will explain everything to you but for now you must search your heart and trust that I do not lie to you. I despise Valya . . . I think I always have.”
She couldn’t help but soften toward him.
“But what I was trying to say,” he began—and again Elka’s traitorous heart chilled—“is that Valya is still here. She was incarcerated by me when I realized she was responsible for my mother’s death. She’s been permitted to live because I can’t prove it.”
Elka stared at him, lost for words.
“She knows nothing about us. And she need never know but she is going to be among the women who leave with you. I preferred you to hear that from me rather than the Abbess or even Valya herself.”
“I see,” was all she could murmur. She noticed Gavriel peel away from the group and knew he was heading off to round up the nuns.
“You have my permission to treat Valya in whichever way she needs to be treated. She is not special. She is a prisoner of the state and should be treated as such.”
She nodded. “Then I will have as little to do with her as I can.”
“Good. Now I do have to speak with her and I thought you should know that too so you would not get any strange ideas about why.”
“Why must you?” she said, her voice hard.
“To tell her that our marriage will be denounced at the earliest opportunity. Before I left the palace, after my mother’s murder, I never got a chance to tell her that she and I would be divorced.”
Elka felt a blush creeping up her neck. “Right. Fair enough,” she said matter of factly. “Then I will help Gavriel gather up the women. We will be gone very shortly.”
He squeezed her hand. “You be careful. And, Elka?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you dare double back for any reason at all. Do you hear me? We all have our roles to play in this. I am safe, you know you don’t have to worry about me. But you have no such protection and I cannot protect you over distance, so promise me that when you leave here, you leave for good. When it’s safe to return will we find you and the nuns.”
She nodded. “You’d better go talk to your wife.”
As Elka, Gavriel and the Abbess gathered up all the women with cautions to take only warm clothing and some food, Loethar, with Roddy at his side, followed Barro to where Valya was being held. Barro had told him about Valya’s attempt on the princess’s life and Loethar had grimly remembered that Valya’s resourcefulness and passion never failed to astonish him. If only she could channel those talents for the good. But Valya’s heart was dark, her soul black—he was sure of it.
“I’ll wait outside,” Barro suggested. “Be warned, she’s like a snarling cat.”
“Nothing I haven’t witnessed before,” he lamented and Barro threw him an uncharacteristic look of sympathy.
Loethar watched him undo the lock and then he opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. She had been dozing, he could tell, but she was instantly alert, casting away any stupor of slumber as fast as one could shrug off a coat.
“You!” she accused. “That was fast. I suppose the Mother just snaps her fingers and you are all but magicked out of thin air. I don’t suppose you’re here to reinstate me.”
“Hello, Valya, how are you?” he said brightly.
It was as though his sarcastic tone tipped her over the edge—she launched herself at him, a sharp piece of metal in her hand. He didn’t have time to imagine where she’d got it or what precisely it was but he did have a flashing moment to understand that she intended to plunge it into his throat. Instinctively he raised his arms but he needn’t have. Valya bo
unced harmlessly off the guardian of air that Roddy had presumably thrown around Loethar the moment they entered the room.
She found herself on her backside, still clutching what Loethar could now see was a crudely sharpened spoon, staring at it as though she’d forgotten what it was.
Loethar threw a look of gratitude at Roddy, who shrugged a grin. “Let me help you up,” Loethar said to Valya, not quite masking his sarcasm as he offered her a hand.
She smacked it away. “What just happened?”
“I think you tried to kill yet again. This is quite a problem for you, isn’t it? But you picked on the wrong person this time.”
Valya struggled to her feet. Her face was a riot of perplexity. She’d bitten her lip in her fall and blood oozed in a tiny trickle from the swollen area. Her complexion was uncharacteristically white with high spots of red rage at the top of her cheeks to match the blood at her mouth.
“Explain to me how this is not stuck in your throat,” she demanded.
“Well, Valya, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Valisar magic. I’ve talked about it often enough.”
“The aegis magic. So you’ve finally eaten a Valisar, have you? And by some miracle you’ve acquired their magic!” she taunted.
“No, Valya. There’s something I’ve been holding back from you all along. And while this is perhaps not the ideal time, there will never be a more important moment for you to understand who exactly I am.”
She stared at him with an expression of deep incredulity. “Who exactly you are?” she repeated. “I know who you are!”
“You don’t. You see, you actually did get your wish. You married a Valisar.”
Now her expression clouded with all manner of emotion. He watched despair clash with rage and bump against horror, all while understanding began to smooth its way across her face. “You’re a Valisar?” she finally uttered.
He nodded gravely before glancing toward Roddy. “By the way, Roddy here is my aegis. You cannot hurt me so you might as well put down your strange weapon.”
King’s Wrath Page 41
