"I want you to go see what the Priest is up to," the Baron told Rotiaqua when he heard the news. "I understand that he holds audience mid morning on alternate days. It is said that he grants favors in health and good fortune for the faithful."
"I don't like him." Rotiaqua wanted nothing less than to witness what the Priest was doing to the people, but the Baron had often said that he was pleased with Sulrad's performance, both in battle, and in increasing his Golds through Temple offerings.
"One does not need to like every business partner one has. However, this one has proved to be valuable indeed. I would like your opinion on these supplicants."
"Father, you know all he is doing is robbing these folk. Why do you support him so?"
"He has saved me dearly by his actions against King Omrik, and he serves a purpose in transferring Gold from the wealthy and the merchants into our treasury. You know how they scream and threaten revolt if we even hint at increasing the duty they pay, but they are flocking to this new Temple, happy to hand over their Gold."
"He's no better than a charlatan."
"Be that as it may, he serves my purposes. Go and see what he's up to and bring me back the news." The Baron dismissed her and Rotiaqua knew there was no arguing with him.
Rotiaqua arrived at the Temple just before the audiences were scheduled to start. The new building was framed up with sturdy wooden beams and covered with drapes in areas where the walls had not yet been completed. Rotiaqua wondered at the size of the structure. There was nothing to compare to it except the castle itself.
The Temple was huge and from what she could see of the completed areas, it was going to be opulent. The windows were large and richly decorated and those rooms that were complete showed furnishings of the highest quality and candlesticks decorated with gold. Surely, Sulrad was doing well with the Nobles and merchants.
"Welcome, My Lady," Sulrad said when he saw her arrive. "I am honored to have you here today. Is there something you need?"
"No, nothing. I came here to witness your audience this morning. I hope it's not an inconvenience for you." Secretly, she hoped he would throw her out and she would have a complaint to carry back to her father.
"No inconvenience." Sulrad raised his arm and a young woman came scurrying. "Please bring my guest suitable seating."
"Right away, Father." She bowed her head and departed to return with a chair. She placed the chair off to the side, where Rotiaqua could witness the proceedings.
As the first supplicant arrived, the attendant leaned over to Rotiaqua and whispered, "That's Anelm. He's a cloth merchant. He supplies the best tailors in the region. He's very wealthy."
Anelm approached the Priest. "Father, I beseech your blessing. I have a daughter who has fallen ill. She has the flux, and has grown weak. I fear for her life."
"How old is your daughter?" Sulrad asked.
"She is seven summers."
"How long has she been ill?"
"Half a moon."
"She is too far gone. You should have come to me sooner."
Anelm dropped to his knees and wrung his hands. "Please, I beg of you, Father. I can pay you double. Please try to help her."
"I have no need of your cloth. What would I do with more cloth?"
"I ... I have something else. I have a servant girl I just purchased. She is yours if you help my daughter."
"A servant girl?" Sulrad asked. "I could use one of those. Can she cook? Clean?"
"I have had her training in my kitchens since I purchased her. She mostly fetches water and cleans up after the cooks."
"I will see your daughter. Bring her to the Temple after the noon meal, and bring this servant girl, too."
The parade of supplicants were ushered in one by one to present their petitions to the Priest. They ranged from requests for minor success in business to serious family illnesses and even one death.
A family arrived with a young boy in tow. He was around fourteen summers in age, with unevenly cut hair and a freckled face that matched his mother's. She wore a patched and ill fitting homemade dress that obviously only came out for special occasions.
"Father. Our son has had the dreams we were instructed to watch for," she said bowing.
"What dreams are those?" Sulrad asked. He looked indifferent, as if the family was beneath his notice.
"Fire, Father. He dreams of fire and it comes true. He almost burned down the homestead with his dreams." She swatted the boy across the head.
"Fire?" Sulrad sat up and took notice. "You dream of fire and it comes to pass?"
"Yes, Father."
Sulrad motioned the boy forward. "Please come here."
The boy hesitantly took a few steps towards the Priest and stopped. He turned to look at his mother, who made a shooing motion urging him forward.
"Come, boy. There is no reason to be afraid. Come here so I can get a look at you." Sulrad put his hand on the boy's head and held the other, palm up, before the boy's face, as if cupping something invisible.
"Please imagine fire. Right here in my hand. Imagine the flame centered on my palm, a few digits tall and blue."
The boy closed his eyes and concentrated. Rotiaqua felt the spark of magic in him, but it was weak and undefined. He might be a Wizard, but not much of one.
Suddenly, a flame burst forth from Sulrad's hand, and quickly extinguished. Sulrad had added his own magic to the boy's in order to make the flame appear.
"Very good. You have the gift." Sulrad patted the boy on the head. He turned to the young girl who had brought Rotiaqua her chair and motioned her to get the boy.
"Go with her." Sulrad pushed the boy towards her.
The boy hesitated and turned back to his mother. The woman made the same shooing motion, urging him to comply.
When the boy disappeared from view, Sulrad looked back at the woman. "Is there anything else?"
The woman coughed into her hand and hid behind it as she timidly said, "The reward?"
"Reward? I'm relieving you of a mouth to feed. I'm removing a potential danger to you and your family. How well would things go if the boy dreamed of fire when you were all sleeping?"
"We are poor, Father." The woman bowed her head but held her ground.
Sulrad reached into his robe and fished out a battered silver. He tossed it to the woman. "Here. This is for the boy, less what I deserve for saving your family a lot of trouble."
"Thank you." The woman caught the coin, pocketed it, and turned to leave.
They filed out without their son. Rotiaqua was saddened by the fact that neither father nor mother had looked back to see what had become of the boy.
That afternoon Rotiaqua was sent back to the Temple to witness the healing of Anelm's daughter. She arrived to find Anelm and the girl in a small room adjacent to the audience chamber.
The girl was small for her age, with long sandy hair that mirrored her father's. She stood beside him, holding his hand.
"This is your daughter?" Sulrad asked.
"Yes, Father. She has the flux. You can see for yourself. She has a fever and coughs. We have tried the healing herbs but they have done no good."
"Bring her to me." Sulrad motioned the girl over.
Anelm encouraged the girl forward. He led her to the Priest and helped her kneel before him.
Sulrad placed his hand on the girl's head. He looked at Anelm. "You have brought payment as we agreed?"
Anelm nodded to a young girl with shoulder length dirty brown hair. She looked to be about ten summers in age. Anelm pushed her towards the Priest. "Her name is Brill."
Rotiaqua perked up at the girl's name. Was this the girl Zhimosom was looking for? She looked to be the same age and hair color. Perhaps this is where she had ended up after Zhimosom lost track of her. She calmed herself. She would tell him about her the next time they talked.
Brill stood there silently as Sulrad looked her over. "Well, isn't it the clumsy one? Have you learned to carry water without spilling it yet?"
&n
bsp; Brill hung her head. "Yes, Sire."
Sulrad pointed to a door leading to the private part of the Temple. "Stand over there."
Sulrad turned back to Anelm's daughter. "Let me see what the Lord Ran can do for your daughter." Sulrad placed his hand on the girl's head. He tilted her face and looked her in her eyes.
"Do you believe that Ran can heal you?" he asked.
The girl tried to twist her head to look to her father for an answer, but Sulrad held her firm.
"Not what your father believes, but what you believe?"
"I ... I do, Father," she stammered.
Sulrad closed his eyes. Rotiaqua felt him drawing power into himself. She felt a slight tug at her own power and raised the shields that Zhimosom had taught her. It frightened her to think that the Priest could draw on her magic against her will. She thought only Zhimosom could share her power, and then only when she wished it. She was anxious to discuss this new worry with Zhimosom.
The Priest droned on for a while, calling on his god Ran. Rotiaqua sensed his magic at work. There was nothing to indicate any god played a part in the healing. It was just the Priest performing healing magic.
When he was finished, he dismissed the girl and her father, but not before taking a small sack of Golds that Anelm offered in addition to the serving girl.
Sulrad walked over to where Brill stood quietly with a look of defiance on her face.
Sulrad grabbed her by the arm. "You belong to me now. You do as I say and serve the Temple well and you will live a happy life. Cause me trouble and Ran will have an extra sacrifice."
Wizard Zhimosom
After a long hard day in the stables, Zhimosom relaxed and opened himself up to Rotiaqua. The contact formed as it had so often. It was becoming almost a part of his life now, that connection to Rotiaqua. Her presence stayed with him throughout the day even when they were not in direct communication.
He had sensed an uncomfortable feeling from her earlier in the day, and was eager to find out what had happened. When her image appeared in his room, he asked her about it.
"Remember that girl you've been looking for? The one from the farm, who came here with you?"
"Brill, yes. Have you heard something?"
"A family brought a servant girl to the Temple today as payment for a healing spell that Sulrad cast on their daughter. The servant girl looked like the girl you described, and the man said her name was Brill."
Zhimosom felt his face flush with embarrassment. He had promised the girl that he would take care of her when he talked her into coming with him to the city. He lost touch with her the very first day. Now it looked like she'd fallen into the hands of the Temple.
"We have to help her. I promised I'd help her and I failed her the first day we were here. She should not have to work as Sulrad's slave because I let her down." Zhimosom feared what Sulrad might do to Brill. He had to find a family to take her in. She had helped him bury his father. She had no one to look out for her; she was an orphan now, just like him.
"He told the girl that if she served well she would have a nice life in the Temple, but if she caused problems, he would sacrifice her to his false god."
"We need to do something. We can’t just leave her there. What if he decides she's not worth keeping alive?" Zhimosom wanted to start for the Temple immediately. He would confront Sulrad and try to free Brill.
"Hold on. There's nothing we can do tonight. Sulrad is much too powerful. We need a plan. Let's continue to keep an eye on him. Maybe we can find something to help us get Brill out of there. We need to know more about him."
Zhimosom sat back down. He still wanted to confront Sulrad immediately, but Rotiaqua made sense. Sulrad was a powerful Wizard and Zhimosom was doubtful that he had enough strength to stand up to him.
Rotiaqua shifted nervously. "I'm concerned about what Sulrad might do to me. I saw Sulrad heal a girl that they brought to the Temple. While he was performing his spell, I felt a pull on my magic. It was as if he was trying to use my power to help him heal the girl.
"I raised a shield like you showed me, and it kept him from taking it ... But it still worries me. Can he do that? Pull power from somewhere outside of himself? Could we?"
"I don't know. There's so much about magic that I don't understand yet. We could try."
Zhimosom felt for her magic to see if he could draw on it. She resisted slightly at first, then yielded to him. He used their combined power to raise a fireball in his hand, watching it get brighter and hotter as he blended her magic with his own.
He released the spell and his hold on her magic and watched the fireball die out.
"I felt you draw on me. It was just like at the Temple," Rotiaqua said.
"I can feel your power constantly," Zhimosom said. "I wonder what else we can draw power from."
He reached out to the fire that he no longer needed to connect with Rotiaqua. He felt the power in it, not magic, but a source of power, clear and pure, available to him, should he choose to take it.
He drew on it as he focused another fireball in his hand. This time the fireball was more intense, spinning faster. He played with it, imagining it brighter and stronger. He was pleased with his efforts when, suddenly, the fire in his hearth went out, and the fireball exploded in a shower of sparks. He was blinded by the light and recovered slowly.
Rotiaqua's image faded, but stayed with him. She was laughing at his discomfort, and he felt embarrassed by his ineptitude. "Maybe it takes practice," was all he could think to say.
"Let me try." Rotiaqua raised her hand in the vision. He saw her form a fireball just as he had. She drew power from him. It felt strange to release his power to her. He wanted to resist at first, but he relented and let her take control of his magic.
She had a more subtle way about her. Almost a coaxing of the power from him into her fireball. It was different from the way he did magic. His own was more like his will was forcing the fire to come to life, hers was a gentle suggestion.
Zhimosom felt Rotiaqua reach out to his hearth and light the fire, filling the room once more with its heat and light. She nodded to him and released her fireball.
Zhimosom probed for other sources of power. He could feel it now, the raw energy of the fire, and slightly subdued, the power in his neighbors' fireplaces. He reached out farther, relaxing himself to the city around him. He felt a faint undercurrent of energy, not magic, but power that could be channeled and manipulated by magic.
He noticed a faint source of power in the life force of everything around him, stronger in some than others, but it was there. He felt around the room and quickly located a mouse hiding behind the bed. He had detected its life force even though he couldn't see it.
"We'll have to practice that," Rotiaqua said when he finished. "I could feel the way you gathered power to yourself, but I'm not sure I could do it myself."
"It's there, in everything that's alive or that burns. I can even feel the power in the kettle boiling over the fire down the street. It's amazing."
"Keep practicing. You'll figure something out," Rotiaqua said.
"I'll try now. I'll let you know when we speak next."
Zhimosom released the connection to Rotiaqua and pondered what he had just learned. If there was power in every living thing, then he could manipulate that power. That must be how the healing spells worked.
How did Sulrad draw power from other living things? Maybe he could emulate that. If Zhimosom could store up enough power, he could confront Sulrad directly and free Brill.
Zhimosom reached out to the mouse he had noticed earlier. It came in response to his thoughts and climbed up on the table next to him. He stared at it for the longest time, getting a feel for its energy. Zhimosom knew he could reach out and take that energy for his own if he chose to.
The mouse's life force was a light violet glow that emanated from the animal. He reached out and touched it.
The mouse dropped dead as Zhimosom absorbed its life energy. Something made him sh
udder as the tiny bit of life force flowed from the mouse into his body to mix with his magical reserve. He felt it there, as if a foreign object were stuck beneath his skin, like a sliver of wood that he couldn't get out.
This might be what Sulrad did to increase his power, but Zhimosom knew it was wrong. He felt it in the irritating way the tiny sliver of power from the mouse gnawed at him. He shuddered to think what it would feel like to take the power of another person into himself.
Over the next few days, Brill's situation weighed heavy on Zhimosom's mind. He felt responsible for her. He had promised to help find a family to take her in, but he had let her down. He worried for her safety.
From what Rotiaqua had witnessed, the Priest cared little for the common folk. What kind of life would she have as a servant in the Temple? He decided that he had waited enough; he had to free her right away even though it meant risking a run in with Sulrad. Zhimosom didn't speak of his decision with Rotiaqua, fearing she would try to talk him out of it.
Zhimosom tried to get into the Temple, but Sulrad had hired a local tough to stand Guard outside the new main entrance.
"Stay out, you." The tough stepped in his path as he tried to enter. He had planned to follow one of the faithful in, but they wore fine clothes and had bathed recently. Zhimosom was not part of the family he was following and the tough knew it.
"I am only seeking employment with the Temple," Zhimosom said. He thought if Sulrad were employing Guards then seeking work would sound like a reasonable excuse for him to be there.
"We don't need any help and we don't want your type around here." The tough was no different from Zhimosom, yet he spoke as if he were noble born.
Zhimosom abandoned his attempt to circumvent the Guard. He waited until evening and returned to a spot where the Temple was still under construction. He chose an area where the structure had no doors or windows as yet.
There was another tough on Guard, but this one was occupied talking to a woman who frequented the street. Zhimosom waited for his opportunity and snuck in. He fumbled around in the dark for a while before remembering that he had magic and need never be in the dark. He raised a small gentle flame in the palm of his hand to light his way.
Wizard Pair (Book 3) Page 9
