“What in the world?” Pela asked.
There was a dark shape on the other side of the glass.
Meg supposed she should be wary, especially given the evening’s events, but she wasn’t. Her heart was nearly leaping out of her chest, but not in fear. Or at least, not only in fear.
She ran to the window and opened the latch.
A big, ungainly crow pushed its way inside and fluttered awkwardly to the floor.
The girls looked at each other, then back at the bird.
“Blackie?” Pela said uncertainly.
Meg felt terrible, painful hope crushing her heart. She struggled to control it. It might not be from him, she thought. It might not mean anything. It could have gotten lost, or maybe the magic wore off and it forgot what it was supposed to be doing, or . . .
“Meg!” the bird croaked. In Calen’s voice.
Meg fell to her knees beside it. Pela rushed over to join her on the floor, decorum forgotten.
Thank you, Bright Lady. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
“Meg!” it said again. And then: “Gods, Meg. I’ve missed you so much. And I’m so sorry.”
Meg stared, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. The birds they sent out had only been able to say Calen’s name. Meg felt tears welling up and didn’t bother to try to stop them. Oh, Calen.
“Tell Serek and Anders that I’m sorry, too. And that if they have any brilliant ideas to get me out of here, I’m listening. I have one idea myself, but I don’t think it’s a very good one. This bird should be able to find me again. I don’t know where I am, but the bird does now.”
Five minutes later, they were knocking at the door to Serek’s study. Meg hoped the mages weren’t still at the infirmary. She had managed to stop crying, but it was hard not to start again. She was very nearly overcome with relief and hope and impatience. It took Anders forever to answer, and when he did, he looked annoyed.
“Princess, I told you, tonight is not —” He stopped abruptly as Meg held the bird up in her outstretched hands and looked at him meaningfully.
“Ah,” he said. “Yes. Well, then. Um.” He seemed to be thinking. He looked over his shoulder, then opened the door a bit wider and ushered them quickly into Calen’s room, which was separate from the main room of the study. “Stay here, if you please. Quietly.” He pointed at each of them, including the bird, then closed the door.
Faintly, they could hear him go back to where the other mages were presumably still in conference with one another. He said something that Meg couldn’t quite make out, but she could hear Serek’s irritated response just fine. “Leave? Anders, what are you —?”
“Sorry!” Anders said jovially and more loudly, speaking right over Serek’s objections. “Had a vision! Can’t explain. Everybody out. Not you, Serek, of course. Everyone else. I know, I know — we only just resumed our conversation, but now we must stop again. Terribly frustrating. We’ll come find you in a bit.”
There were confused and angry-sounding grumbles and the clomping of several pairs of feet walking out into the hallway. Then the main door closing.
“Did you really —?” Serek’s voice began once they left.
“No,” Anders said. “But you’ll understand in a moment.”
And then the door to Calen’s room opened again, and Anders led the three of them into the main study. Serek’s eyes widened when he saw the bird.
“Where did —?”
“It came right to my bedroom window,” Meg said. She placed it down on the table. “Go on,” she said to the bird. “Say your message again.”
She didn’t know if it understood somehow or was just trained — spelled? — to repeat its message whenever she addressed it. But it spoke the same words it had earlier, still in Calen’s voice.
Serek sat down hard in his chair. Anders just stared.
Meg felt the tears starting again, but didn’t care. “He’s all right,” she said. “He’s all right and we found him and now we can get him back.”
Serek and Anders didn’t move.
“What?” Meg asked, frowning at them. Why didn’t they seem happy? “It worked! Your bird spell worked! It found him, and he was able to send a message back! Wasn’t that the idea?”
Serek rubbed a hand across his face. “Yes. Yes, of course it was. It’s just —”
“That’s a very advanced spell,” Anders put in. “We’d hoped he would be able to send some sort of message back, some indication that the bird had found him, but this — I couldn’t have done this.”
“Is it truly that much harder to make the bird say a few sentences than it was to make it say one word?” Pela asked.
“Yes,” Serek and Anders said together.
“Oh,” said Pela.
“And he sent the bird back to you,” Serek continued. “It should have returned directly here, where it was released. Somehow he altered its directions enough to do that, and managed to embed the spell with an entire message. . . .”
Meg still didn’t really understand. “Well, so . . . that’s good, isn’t it? Now we have much more information than if he’d only sent back a single word, or no word at all. We know he’s okay, and we know he wants to come home. . . .” Of course he wanted to come home. She wasn’t sure why she’d even said that. “Why aren’t you happy about this?”
The mages looked at each other. “We are happy, Princess,” Serek said at last. “It’s just . . . a bit of a shock, that’s all. Calen . . . Calen couldn’t have done this when I last saw him. He’s clearly learned a lot since then.”
Oh. “Well . . . that makes sense, though, doesn’t it? If Mage Krelig took Calen away in order to use his ability, he’d probably have to be teaching him things. It doesn’t mean . . . I’m sure Calen’s just doing what he has to while he’s there.”
Serek and Anders exchanged another glance.
“Stop that!” Meg shouted. “You heard his message. He wants to come home. He doesn’t want to be there, even if he is learning things. If he wanted to stay he never would have sent the bird back to us.”
“Sorry, Princess,” Serek said. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Well, almost sure,” Anders said. Serek gave him a look, and for a wonder, the older mage subsided.
“We need to try to figure out what Calen did, exactly, and what we can send back to help him escape,” Serek went on. “Now that we’ve made contact, we must move very quickly. Every communication presents a risk that Mage Krelig could discover what Calen is doing. We need a plan. Very soon.”
“Tell me how I can help,” Meg said at once.
“Tomorrow,” Serek said. “First I think Anders and I need to spend some time examining the bird.” They all looked at the crow, who had apparently gotten bored with the conversation and was now pecking at a tiny spot on the table.
“All right,” Meg said. “Then, in the morning —”
“Princess,” Pela broke in quietly. “You won’t be here in the morning.”
Oh. Right.
Everyone was looking at her now. Except the bird.
“Where are you going?” Anders asked.
“I’m going to Kragnir,” Meg said. “To fight in the war. Jakl and I leave with the soldiers at first light.”
“Ah,” Serek said. He rubbed his face again.
“Well,” Anders said, “that’s sure to be exciting!”
“But I can’t go now. I need to be here. I . . .” Meg let her words trail off. She had to go, of course. She knew she did. And . . . it might be a little while before she came back, she realized. She’d been letting herself imagine that this whole Kragnir business wouldn’t take very long at all. But how could she know? They would have to get there, fight the Lourin soldiers, win the battle, and then get back home. It might be weeks before she returned.
But — Calen. She wanted to cry. Again.
“We can manage without you,” Serek said finally. “You were essential for finding Calen in the first place, but now that this bird knows h
ow to find him, we’ll be able to contact him again.”
“But what about going to get him? I thought — you’ll need Jakl, to go and bring him back. . . .”
“Not necessarily,” Serek said. “And in fact, that would probably not be our best choice in any case. I think secrecy is going to be important. If Mage Krelig saw or sensed your dragon approaching his hiding place . . . that could make things very difficult for Calen. And for Jakl. And for you.”
That was probably true, she supposed. But . . .
“There’s no sense arguing, Princess,” Pela said gently. “What is, must be. I will help them as much as I can in your stead.”
“Thank you, Pela.” She looked at the mages. “Pela can help. Please allow her, if you see a way.”
“All right,” Serek said. “We can’t do anything until we try to decipher this spell, but then — yes, all right. Thank you, Pela, for your assistance.”
“Make sure to tell Calen not to send his next bird to me!” Meg said. She was almost sorry to have remembered, but having the crow find her in the middle of a battlefield wasn’t going to help anything. Even if it would let her hear his voice.
“Yes,” Anders assured her. “We will.”
It will be all right, Meg told herself. She had to trust Serek and Anders to take care of this. And of course they could; it’s not like she was the one who was going to be casting the spells. . . . She just thought she’d be here to help. To know what was happening. To make sure that they looked out for Calen’s best interests. To make sure that Serek, especially, didn’t change his mind.
She took Pela’s hand in the hallway as they walked back to her rooms.
“Don’t let them lose faith in him,” she said. “Promise me. Don’t let them start to think that they shouldn’t bring him home after all. I don’t care how much new magic he’s learned. He’s still Calen.”
“Yes, Princess,” Pela said. “I know. I promise.”
And with that, Meg let Pela lead her the rest of the way without speaking. She would go to sleep, and then she would wake up and report for duty. And she would do everything she could to help end the fighting as quickly as possible so she could get back home.
ONE OF THE THINGS MAGE KRELIG wanted to use the other mages for, it seemed, was target practice.
They hadn’t learned the rules yet. One or another of them was constantly making some misstep, inspiring Krelig to use the unfortunate transgressor as an example for the rest. Today it was Darelin’s turn. She was a moderately marked young woman with long brown hair that she liked to twist into different elaborate shapes from day to day. This afternoon it was a pretty arrangement of looped coils that ended up looking something like a flower. Or . . . it had been pretty. Before.
Krelig had apparently neglected to tell their guests that they were not allowed to cast any divination spells. Calen had known that rule from the start; Krelig had told him that he was never to attempt any kind of divination, ever, along with a great assortment of other instructions and restrictions, right at the beginning, when it was all Calen could do to keep himself from drowning in confusion and despair and terror. Some of Krelig’s rules had obvious reasons behind them. Some didn’t. If you were smart, you followed them all anyway. But it did help to know what they were.
As soon as Darelin entered the training hall, Krelig had called out to her from where he was leaning against the far wall.
“What magic were you just practicing in your room before you came down here, Mage Darelin?”
She froze in the entranceway, then hesitantly answered, “Just — just a card reading, Master.”
Calen stared at her, aghast, but then quickly realized from the confused expressions on other mages’ faces that many of them had not known about that rule. He generally didn’t feel much sympathy for the other mages, no matter what Krelig did to them. They were here by choice, he reminded himself often, and deserved whatever they got. Usually. But he couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Darelin right then.
“There will be no divination of any kind,” Krelig said. He was standing up straight now, facing her across the room. The mages near her started edging carefully away. “No readings of stones,” he added, speaking calmly and sending a red bolt of magic at Darelin that knocked her backward against the wall. “Nor blood,” he continued, walking toward her and hitting her with another red spell. “Nor cards.” He was standing over her now, looking down at her cowering form.
“But — but why?” she asked, daring to look up at him in confusion.
Calen closed his eyes briefly. That was not the right response.
“Why?” Krelig repeated in a harsh falsetto, mimicking her inflection. “Why? Because I have no need for your mediocre readings and portents. My own sightings have shown me everything I need to know about what lies ahead.” He pointed at her, and she gasped and began slapping frantically at her own head a moment before the smell of burning hair reached the rest of them. “I will not have anyone trying to seek out some alternate future, some less favorable reading to try to interfere with my plans.”
“I wasn’t!” Darelin protested, still trying without success to put out the magical fire that was slowly consuming her looped strands. “I swear, I only wanted to help, I —”
“Do you think I need your help?” Krelig asked this last in a furious whisper, but they could all hear him in the otherwise still and silent room. Darelin’s only response was her desperate sobs of pain and fear. Krelig stood looking down at her for a minute more, then shook his head and turned away. He sent one last spell as he did so, and Darelin screamed as the rest of her hair went up in a whoosh of flame.
“You may heal her scalp,” Krelig said offhandedly to the first other mage he noticed. He walked slowly back to his place against the wall as the other mage rushed forward to heal Darelin. He couldn’t do anything about her hair, though.
At Krelig’s impatient glare around the room, the rest of them hurried to form the half circle in which they usually began each training session. They all averted their eyes from Darelin’s bald head as, still crying softly, she took her place in the line a moment later.
Calen continued his private lessons with Mage Krelig every morning, but afternoons now involved all of the mages who had come to the castle. Krelig had them practice casting at one another, defending against more than one magical assault at a time, working in teams, and working alone against the rest of the group. Serek had always refused to teach Calen how to fight or even how to effectively defend himself with magic. Now Krelig wanted him to learn all he could about it, and despite everything, Calen was happy to.
Because he needed to know how to fight and defend himself, of course.
But also because he was really, really good at it.
He was still testing the new limits of his ability. The strength of his spells still varied, but there was no question that even his weakest attempts were now much more powerful. Calen knew that Krelig had taught him enormous amounts since he’d been here, but he had thought he was still far behind most other mages. And he was, in terms of experience and practice — those who had been training for years and years, who had started younger than he had and who were much older now, those mages had accumulated a wealth of life experience that no amount of training could replace. And yet all the mages who had arrived to join Mage Krelig so far (and more of them kept coming, nearly every day) seemed slow and clumsy to him. At least, a lot of the time. Calen knew some of this was because of his ability to see the colors — it helped him to react more quickly, and certainly to defend himself more effectively. But it was also because he was much more powerful than they were.
That was sometimes a frightening thought. He wasn’t exactly sure why; he wanted to be powerful, didn’t he? He needed to be powerful to be able to help defeat Mage Krelig.
But sometimes he was afraid that he was starting to enjoy these lessons a little too much.
The other mages always got the worst of it in the group lessons, and t
oday’s was no exception. Krelig paired Calen up with Helena against a group of ten other mages. Calen still didn’t like her; she always had something to say and was particularly fond of showing off. She practically crowed anytime she bested one of the others. She was talented, though. He had to give her that. He thought she was the strongest of all the traitor mages Krelig had recruited so far. She and Calen stood back to back, and the other mages surrounded them in a large circle, firing anything they wanted as long as it wasn’t actually lethal. Krelig was quite clear about how he would feel if they killed one another off without his express permission.
Calen and Helena had cast a combined form of shield that was stronger than either of them could cast alone. The other mages were having a hard time breaking through it, although once they started teaming up in their attacks, more of the spells started coming close. Calen tightened his focus as a particularly nasty-looking red spell came hurtling at his face. There was purple mixed in as well, and he could tell that it was meant to cause some kind of painful disfiguring. That was allowed; it was the kind of thing Krelig could fix afterward . . . if he chose to.
Calen knocked it aside but then stared as it circled around and started toward his face again. Somehow the mage who had cast it had connected it to Calen in some way. Made it seek him out even after it had been pushed off course. That was fascinating, but he would have to think about it later. Right now he just wanted to stop it from reaching him. He felt the shield beginning to flicker and weaken as both he and Helena grew more tired. That wasn’t good. Even with his new reserves of power, he couldn’t keep going forever. And he used up a lot of energy in his morning lessons with Krelig. The mage who had sent the targeted spell — his name was Cheriyon — must have sensed the weakening shield, because he grinned and sent a second targeted spell after the first. Calen knocked them both aside again with his own spells, but they continued to turn back to find him every time. He had to find a way to — there!
The Mage of Trelian Page 9
