If the magelord can afford it, he answered.
Spend what you need, I ordered. And then hurry back to Sevendor, when you have ensured she cannot leave without our notice. I have other need of your services.
As the Magelord wishes. Iyugi is your humble servant.
Iyugi was more my slave than my servant – his dignity had slipped appallingly when I had given him his witchstone as a reward for his skills at ferreting out other people’s secrets – and keeping my own. He had danced like a little child, so gleeful was he in his newfound power.
I had had to temper that enthusiasm with my dreadful oath, but he had accepted the terms of our arrangement without discussion. If being my sworn man was the price of power, he was more than willing to labor in the service of the Spellmonger and take my coin.
Thus far, Iyugi had proven utterly trustworthy – I hoped I could continue to count on that. Having him track down Lady Isily’s whereabouts, and the status of my illegitimate daughter, had been his trial run. Now I had even more serious work for the spy.
“I can hardly believe we’re back,” Sire Cei murmured as we crossed under the gatehouse, where a new snowflake-and-star banner hung. “It seems a lifetime that we left.”
“So it was, Dragonslayer,” I said, slapping his armored shoulder heartily. “A dragon’s life. But we are back. And I could not be more content.” I banished all worry about the consequences of my wartime liaison from me – this was a time of joy.
There were only a few score of us now, the men who lived and worked in the castle. Their womenfolk had gathered in the bailey in front of the gate awaiting them, and they broke into loud cheers as we mounted the rise.
It was a small little castle, far less grand than those I’d seen lately, but I loved it. From the snow-white walls of its keep to the stately old trees in the yard, from the depths of the well to the peak of my personal tower, I realized that I loved this little castle in a way I had not thought I could love a mere place.
Sire Cei and I stopped our horses in the bailey and handed off the reins to stableboy before being enveloped by our loved-ones. Alya was in my arms and on my lips the moment my boots hit the white dirt, slobbering on me, soaking my mantle with her tears, filling my ears with her laughter and joy. Lady Estret was mauling her new husband like a panting teenager, her daughter grinning wildly and giggling over their antics.
When I finally let Alya go, reluctantly, it was only because I felt a tremendous desire to hold my son. Only when I had his pudgy little body in my hands again did I feel the last bit of anxiety slip away, the last bit of immediate worry fall. He was hale and healthy, fat, pink and stinky. Everything I could want in a son.
I let out perhaps the most expressive sigh I’ve ever made. I began to take my wife’s hand and drag her inside when I realized something was left undone. As the vale began to sink into twilight, the sun disappearing behind Caolan’s Pass in the west, I raised my hand and snapped. Instantly, a great green magelight formed over my tower, painting its white stones in an unearthly magical glow.
“Daddy’s home,” I announced. And in the distance, all the way across the commons and the lake and over the wall, I could hear the people of Sevendor Village cheering.
The Magelord had come home to Sevendor, and tonight, at least, all was at peace. And as if to answer me, the gods sent the first snowflake of the season early, the beginning of the first light dusting of the season. I chose to take it as a good omen.
It was the Magelord’s prerogative.
The End
This is a special Early Edition version of this book at special pricing.
You may contact the author at [email protected]
The Spellmonger Series: Book 03 - Magelord Page 97
