‘There is no doubt that they are trying to usurp your power, Your Majesty, and it makes my blood boil. At a time like this, when every delay costs hundreds of lives, it is unforgivable. Do you know, I have heard them casting doubt on the lineage of your son? I bet my old whiskers they plan to intervene before he can become of age. I had the feeling something like this would happen, so I had several mages scry the boy to prove he is the true heir. Do you know what they did then? They began to undermine me and the Order as well! Calling me a Garten upstart! Damn the fools!’
Empress Lillith gasped at this. ‘This is despicable! Why haven’t I heard such things before?’
‘I have been busy at the front, Your Majesty, and that has kept my attention, but I see now that things have begun to get out of control. We need to rein back this madness before it goes any further.’
‘I will speak with them immediately,’ she said.
‘We may need to do more than that,’ Anthem said. ‘They will placate you with the most sincere of apologies, but they will only continue their plans behind your back until your rule is symbolic at best. They could even resort to violence. I would not put it past any of them to arrange the murder of a mother and her son. I only hope they have more sense than that. The people of Turia have instilled their love in your boy.’ He mulled over the thought solemnly. ‘No, far better that they keep you, remove your power and manipulate you for their own gains. Once young Leopold is of age, they will not need you at all, for they will have ensured that his education was tailored to fit their schemes. He would be nothing more than a puppet.’
The Empress considered his words carefully. ‘I don’t want to offend you, but Chancellor Donovan did tell me to expect the Order to attempt to strengthen its position in the palace. I have long trusted you, Grand Master, but all this is quite shocking and confusing.’
Old Anthem only smiled at this. ‘I’m sure he has told you much, but that only proves to reinforce my feeling that Donovan is a conniving wretch. The Order has no interest in running an Empire. That is far too much trouble for us. We much prefer our books and quiet places. I must admit we have had our own fair share of politicking in the past, but I will allow no more of that. I think the Magicians’ Council has learned its lesson in that regard.’
‘Then we shall see about this,’ Lillith stated defiantly. ‘I am not about to see the Empire falling to such upstarts. With Ruardin spellbound by their verbal trickery, I don’t know who else I can depend upon. Will you support me, Grand Master Anthem? Since Lord Samuel made his great display of saving the city, the Order is in favour like never before. The people will rally behind you.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ old Anthem declared with a bow. ‘This battle will be fought on many fronts. Perhaps the greatest will be here within the walls of the palace and this is a battle that I will not lose. The Empire and I have had our differences in the past, but I refuse to see it fall into the hands of scoundrels like Donovan and Madhaven. I will begin by subtly letting them know their place and, if that does not work, we can look at taking more drastic measures. In the meantime, we will need to shore up our defences against the Paatin. Recall our forces from the territories—as many as we can possibly afford.’
‘So be it,’ Lillith responded.
With that, the meeting ended and the Empress and her entourage departed, with one of the maids carefully cradling the sleeping boy in her arms, so as not to wake him. Samuel believed what the wily old Grand Master had said, for he had a glint in his eye and his hackles were up; a sure sign he meant business. He would not be surprised if Anthem simply turned the royal advisers to ashes just to teach them a lesson.
It was only as they were striding away from the room that the Grand Master surprised them both by chuckling to himself.
‘Did you see how that works? Now, we have the Empress in the palm of our hand.’
‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked of the old magician.
‘It is a simple matter to plant some suggestions and let others believe they had come to their own conclusion. In one swift move, we have the Empress onside. If it’s a war they want, it’s a war they’ll get and no pompous Turian can match this old Lion. When I begin to show my claws, those fools in their counting houses will turn to jelly.’
‘I must admit I was surprised by what you said about the Council, Grand Master,’ said Goodfellow. ‘I can’t imagine some of them giving up their old ways. They are awfully fond of their meetings and deliberations and so forth. They never seem to do anything except talk about having more power over the Empire.’
‘How true, young Master Goodfellow. The nature of these Turians cannot be changed, but the Empress is a useful ally. We will need her if we are to put Donovan and the likes back in their places. This could be a dangerous situation for the Order. And what a woeful time for it! Now, if we can get that old bull Ruardin onside we will have nothing to worry about. The last thing we want at a time like this is more trouble for the Order. And if we are going to win this war and repel the Paatin, we cannot afford such shenanigans. Once things return to calm, we will be the only ones advising the Empress and the balance of power will rest with us.’
Samuel was about to object, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut. It seemed a strange turn of events at such a calamitous time.
The royal advisers had locked themselves indoors for an evening of deliberation, to which the Order—much to Anthem’s chagrin—was not invited. Samuel decided to visit Master Glim and set out through the palace gates as dusk was just falling across the city.
He made his way across the bustling streets and pushed through the din of the markets, following the zigzagging routes he had learned over his many years in the city. He half-expected that the city would have become as quiet as the palace, perhaps beset by fear of the impending invasion, but it seemed not. It still thrummed with life and was as vibrant as ever. The only notable absence was that of all the dark-skinned desert traders, but it seemed others had quickly taken advantage of the situation and set up their own stalls in place.
Magical lanterns were set about the School of Magic, hanging from the doorways and along the curving stone paths, creating little pools of clarity in the dim. As Samuel neared, each one was supposed to grow brighter and then fade away again after he had passed, but the lanterns sat idly. The spells tied to each could not detect him. At times, his innate lack of presence could be as much of a curse as a boon and so he trod the paths in darkness.
He came to Master Glim’s little cottage and rapped on the door.
‘Come in, Samuel,’ the voice of Master Glim beckoned from inside.
‘Remarkable! How did you know it was me?’ Samuel asked, stepping into the room. His old teacher was studying at his desk, as expected, with his eyeglasses dipping from the end of his nose.
‘Rather, I can presume it’s you, young Lord Samuel, when knocks sound on my door and no one seems to be there to make them. It’s not such a great leap of reason, is it?’
Samuel shut the door and came to sit opposite the aging teacher. ‘It’s good to see you, Master Glim.’
‘I can return the sentiment.’ He set his notes down and pushed his emptied dinner plate to one side. He seemed frailer than Samuel remembered and a sliver of shadow lingered in his features, where the light should have prevailed. ‘When Anthem returned and brought news of what had happened, I certainly feared the worst. However, I could not believe that you would be killed so easily. Surely, it would take more than an army to defeat you, Samuel. You are the Saviour of Cintar, after all.’
Samuel screwed up his face in feigned distaste while Master Glim chuckled softly to himself.
‘It seems we find ourselves deeper and deeper in hot water, Samuel,’ the teacher mused. ‘While we thought we were striding into a new Age of Reason, it seems we have only stumbled into a renewed time of anarchy. If the Empire crumbles, the people of Amandia will suffer even more than they did under the Emperor’s totalitarian rule and, with
the way things are going, the Order just does not seem strong enough to prevent it.’
‘So it seems. But I never thought you were fond of the Empire, Master Glim.’
‘Of course not. You know I have never cared for the Empire, but it had just reached the stage where it could start to become something unifying and benevolent—’ then he threw up his hands, ‘and now all this.’
‘How go things in the School?’
‘Bah! We may as well give up now. I have a handful of students and barely the teachers to teach them. This war has taken its toll on us all. It will take us years to recover—decades.’
‘I’m sure we can get through this difficult time eventually. One day, I’m sure the Order will become the bastion of reason that we have long sought. It may just take longer than expected. We have been through much worse in recent times.’
‘I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Samuel, but I have started to feel a weariness in my bones. I am really quite tired and find myself just wishing to shut the gates of the school and keep the woes of the world outside, if only I could. Actually, while I think of it, Master Pot came seeking my advice today on a similar theme. It seems you two are at odds at the moment.’
‘It’s true.’
‘And you can’t see your way to giving him some respite? This has been a difficult time for him, also.’
‘Not as difficult as ours,’ Samuel stated. ‘While it took us a week to make our way back to Cintar on foot, he saw himself back here in a jiffy. I’m not surprised he didn’t mention it. We were rushing back in a panic to spread the news of the Paatin invasion and he was sitting in a local tavern with his feet up the whole time. It is an abuse of power, if you ask me.’
‘So he can use his Great Spell, after all,’ Glim said with interest. It seemed to attract the curiosity of magicians at any hint of its mention.
‘Whenever he chooses, so it seems.’
‘Then that is interesting. He chose wisely to conceal the fact.’
Samuel was surprised by this. ‘Do you mean you agree with him?’
‘Not wholly, no, but it is fortunate in many ways that he has concealed the spell for so long. Such a Great Spell has many connotations. I need to think about this.’ Master Glim looked quite concerned by the revelation. ‘Have you had your dinner yet?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Then go fetch yourself something from the larder before your stomach devours the rest of you. I’m sure we have at least a few more hours before the Paatin come shouting at our gates. Get some decent sleep in one of the vacant cottages and we can discuss this more in the morning, unless of course you’d rather get back to the palace? You look as if you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in some time.’
‘Even when I do sleep, my dreams keep me awake most of the night.’
‘Oh? Then we have that to talk about as well. Go on now.’
Samuel acceded and left Master Glim’s room. As he left, he heard music begin behind him as his old teacher began strumming his lute-like instrument. He had seen the man play it often, but had never bothered to ask of its origin, for it was the only one of its kind he had ever seen. The noise that came from it was lilting and harmonious, with each note melding into the others. Glim had asked his students to take the time to master any instrument of their choice, for he told them that such practice would benefit their studies but, between his troubles and his various adventures, Samuel had just never found the time.
Old Master Sanctus was fossicking merrily in the larder and had himself a platter of grapes balanced in one hand and was fiercely protecting a long, crusty loaf in the other.
‘Young Samuel!’ he declared with a crackled voice. ‘I thought you were long dead, my boy. You always seem to be proving me wrong, lad and—at least sometimes—pleasantly so.’
‘Thank you, Master Sanctus,’ Samuel replied as politely as he could, for he was not sure whether he had just received a compliment or an insult.
‘Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth hung open like a blowfish in a bucket. Get some food into you.’
Samuel needed no further prompting and took a wide, ceramic plate from the shelving and began looking for whatever could tempt his palate. Despite the grim situation the Empire now found itself in, the Order’s shelves remained as excessively stocked as ever.
Master Sanctus finished gathering what he needed and tottered off into the night with his armful of food, chewing ravenously on a length of sausage. Samuel took his time loading his plate, savouring the thought of his dinner, tossing the occasional morsel into his mouth as he gleaned the room of whatever caught his fancy. Once prepared, he started back out into the night with his hefty load in one hand, setting towards the rooms.
He was only halfway along the path and back towards the cottages when something scratching in the darkness caught his ear. He paused, peering into the blackness to where he perceived that something sat: a patch of darkness itself on the grass. It was only his sight that alerted him to the fact that it was a magician lying on the grass and another moment to recognise the familiar aura of the man.
‘Master Sanctus!’ Samuel gasped and dropped to his knees beside the quivering old man, spilling his plate upon the grass. He turned the stricken magician face up and the light caught Master Sanctus’ deathly pale face. He seemed to be caught midway through a silent scream, and blood and vomit covered his lips and chin. ‘Master Sanctus!’ Samuel called again, shaking the old man firmly, but Sanctus was as stiff as a board, as if already locked in rigor mortis.
Gathering his wits, Samuel began fumbling for his ring, intent on throwing a spell onto the old magician. He only hoped to hold onto some vestige of his life force, but it was already too late. Something had eaten away at Sanctus’ insides and all his vital organs were ruptured and riddled with holes. A great black wave of shadow, an ill omen to Samuel’s magical sight, was already creeping across the old man’s life force and devouring it in calamitous gulps. With one final shudder, the magician coughed out a spray of black fluid and fell dead. A long, wet, rattling sound came trundling from his throat as his final breath clawed its way free. He remained stiff and staring at the stars above him, as if caught in awe at their splendour.
The stink coming from the old man was vile and Samuel felt his own dinner rush up into his mouth. He vomited on the grass several times, until nothing further would come out. Even then, he had to fight back the sensation to retch once more. Wiping the spittle from his lips, he could see the same dark fluid in his own vomit. It could only have come from something he had eaten. With a terrible realisation, he looked at the food that lay scattered around Master Sanctus and beside his own plate.
‘Poison,’ he whispered and the sense finally reached him to shout his warning aloud. ‘There’s poison in the larder! Poison!’ he called out. ‘Don’t eat anything!’ He called the warning several times into the dark school grounds, but no one came running to help him or to see what the matter was.
Finally gathering his wits, Samuel made for Master Glim’s room as fast as he could. He hammered his fist onto the door with what felt like futile strength, and then went in without waiting for a reply for he could already feel that something was dreadfully wrong inside. As he burst into the room, the magical lanterns set onto the walls blazed into life as if trying to burn away the stubborn shadows altogether. These spells had been tied to the opening of his door, or Samuel would have been left in the darkness, but the scene they illuminated was terrible.
Master Glim was splayed out on the floor, barely alive. He was looking towards Samuel, with the same ugly black fluid smeared across his face. He had set a flurry of spells about himself to keep the poison at bay, but already Samuel could see that the man’s energy was waning. His organs were full of perforations and his magic was the only thing holding his insides together. Still the poison was continuing to gnaw at his innards and such spells were barely able to slow the progress.
‘Master Glim!’ Samuel called, sitting bes
ide his teacher and lifting the man’s head gently onto his lap. ‘What can I do?’
Glim’s eyes rolled up to look at him and he coughed up more of the fluid before Samuel could wipe it away. ‘Nothing...Samuel,’ he managed to say. ‘It seems I’ve been poisoned and it seems very effective...designed especially for magicians, I would wager. I think I am going to die.’
‘Master Sanctus is already dead.’
Master Glim raised his arm and clutched at Samuel’s collar. ‘You must go warn the others before anyone else eats from the larder. The source of the poison will be there. Throw the food to the floor.’
At once, Samuel realised the old teacher was correct, but he could not bring himself to leave his dying friend.
‘I will save you first, Master Glim.’
Master Glim began to shake his head, but Samuel ignored his pleas to leave. Instead, he drew the Argum Stone from his pocket and plunged his finger into it without a pause. His being flooded with unimaginable power and it took some moments before he could gather his wits and focus his thoughts once more upon the dying man on his lap.
‘What’s this?’ Master Glim managed to ask, for even in his dying state his magician’s curiosity had the better of him.
‘This is the Argum Stone. It was not destroyed, as I said, but changed into this ring. It is very powerful. With it, I am sure I can save you.’
‘While I would be grateful, Samuel,’ Master Glim said, his spittle flying into the air, ‘and I would normally be intrigued by such a find, I must warn you against using such magic. You, most of all, should know that. Remember what it did to Ash. Too much power is dangerous for any man to bear. You especially, Samuel, should be careful with the power you wield.’ He took a moment to gather some strength. ‘I have seen you at your worst and I remember the bloodlust on your face when you killed Captain Garret and his men. There is something terrible at your core, Samuel, and you should do all you can to starve it, rather than feed such a thing. Power is corrupting and this kind of power will only see you headed down the same path as Ash. It would be terrible for you to become like that which you most despise, Samuel. The world does not need another such devil.’
She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 8
