The next day I awoke feeling oddly light of heart, considering what had transpired the day before. The reason for that unexpected joy soon revealed itself — it appeared that Maldis had left the castle on business of his own, and though Kadar’s brow knotted as he read over the note his advisor had left behind, it smoothed itself soon enough as he decided to spend his day going over plans for the exchange with his architects and artisans.
This should have left me at loose ends, but almost as soon as Kadar departed the castle, I felt the half-expected tug of Ulias’ magic. I rose from my seat, and saw that Beranne now slept, her needlework neglected in her lap. Even Tresi had curled herself into a small ball in her basket and didn’t so much as twitch when I walked past her and out the door.
The guards seemed to be busy elsewhere, and as I moved through the corridors, I saw how Ulias’ magic wrapped around me and protected me even now, at a time of day when there were many more people about to note my passage. This did not surprise me quite as much as it once might have, for I knew now who wove this spell, and why.
Maldis had left the keep, and therefore it was safe for me to visit the mage he’d locked up in the cellars.
Ulias did not seem to have moved or changed at all since the last time I had been in his dungeon, although I noted the stacks of books in his cell were piled even higher, and a half-eaten loaf remained on its pewter plate. He stood as I approached, and smiled.
“So am I to come now when you call, like my little dog Tresi?” I inquired in arch tones, but I smiled as well, and I could see that he took no offense at my words.
“I would prefer to think of it as you accepting an important invitation.” Ulias gestured toward a rough stool that sat a few feet away from the iron bars of his cell. “I wish I could offer you something finer, but alas, that is the only accommodation they have left here.”
“It will serve well enough.” I grasped the stool and moved it a little closer to the cell, although I made sure to note its position before I did so. No point in trying to keep our meetings secret, only to give ourselves away with something so silly as a misplaced stool. I sat, glad that today the summons had come at a time when I was warmly dressed, my feet covered in cozy fur-lined boots. “And I think we shall have rather more time today, since Kadar seemed to indicate that Maldis will be away for several days.”
Instead of looking pleased, Ulias’ expression darkened, as if he had guessed something of why Maldis had left the castle and was troubled by it. But then the mage’s brow cleared, and he said, “I have been thinking about you a good deal since last we met. And I thought perhaps we should speak more of your magic.”
“What little of it there is,” I replied, and tried not to sigh. After all, it was quite inconvenient to have the burden of magical abilities which must be concealed at all times, and yet have the sensation that they were not really worth concealing in the first place.
“Ah, that.” The clear grey eyes watched me carefully, and I tried not to shift on my uncomfortable stool like a schoolgirl caught in a transgression. “You say that about your magic, and yet I sense in you great power.”
“Indeed?” I did not want to allow myself to believe him, and yet something in me ached for him to be right.
“Indeed.” He sat down on his bed — the only seat allowed him in his prison cell — and placed his hands on his knees. I noted that he wore a dark wool doublet and breeches, typical garb for a man of the North, and wondered how on earth it had been tailored to fit around those enormous wings of his. At the moment they were folded to either side of him, allowing him to sit comfortably enough. “Tell me of your father’s magic.”
“My father?” For a second or two I could only stare at Ulias blankly, but then I gathered myself and replied, “He is a master of weather magic — it is by his will that he can keep the fogs away, so the ships do not founder on the rocks, and he brings the rain when it is needed. Southern Eredor has not suffered a drought for the last quarter-century.”
“And you wished to have this same skill, did you not?”
I lifted my shoulders. “It is a very useful one. But although my father tried to teach me the spells, they never seemed to work. I can perform the smaller magics — the sleep spells, the locking charms, the cantrips that ensure I never lose a ring or a book or a hair ribbon. Anything else, though…” And I trailed off and lifted my shoulders in an eloquent shrug.
“But can you sense when your father is working his magic?”
“Always.”
“And you can tell when I work mine as well, can you not?”
“Yes.”
Ulias looked pleased, for some reason. “I can understand why you would think your gift is of little import, as you have had no exposure to the working of magic save that which your father performs. The power is a chancy thing, skipping generations, manifesting in different ways when it does surface. It is rare enough that it should appear as it has in your family, showing in both the father and the daughter. It is unheard-of that you should possess exactly the same abilities.”
“But it does run in families.”
“Yes. If magic has never appeared in a bloodline, then it will never manifest itself.” His pleasant expression faded somewhat, and I saw that he would not meet my eyes for some reason. “Just as it will always appear eventually, even if several scores of years should pass before it returns. At any rate, you are what used to be called a Protector, one who instinctively feels magic as it is being worked.”
Puzzled, I stared over at him, at the downcast eyes with their sweep of pale lashes, the white wings that might have been carved from marble, so still were they. “How does that make someone a Protector?”
At once the shadow was gone from his face, although he did not smile. “Because one who feels magic, who senses it in all its forms, is one who understands it, someone who knows how to block it, or tear it down, if necessary. Back in the days of power, rare was the king who did not have a Protector in his service, someone to act as a safeguard against the ill-intentioned spells of his rivals. Protectors were raised near as high as royalty, and were courted for their abilities as soon as those powers began to manifest. It is no small thing to be a Protector, Lark Sedassa.”
Pride stirred in my breast, that I should possess such a gift. Then again, while it might have been of very great use back in the days when every noble house had its mage, and terrible could be the consequences of the magic-fought feuds and squabbles between courtiers, here and now, I saw little utility in it.
Despite my ability, I did not yet have any reasonable measure of Ulias’ powers; I certainly did not know if he could read my thoughts, but I wondered then if he did, for he said,
“It is not I, or your father, or even Khaspar the Nimble, who dwells in secret in the slums of Iselfex, or Lorenne the Fair, wife of a minor baron in Farendon, against whom you should be guarding. I think you know all too well who your enemy is.”
I swallowed, seeing in my mind the commonplace features and glacially cold eyes of Maldis of Purth. Maldis the magician. Maldis, who radiated such malice I wondered that everyone else in the keep could not feel it.
“I know,” I said, and was glad that my voice sounded steady enough, even though my fingers shook somewhat…and not from the cold in that bleak cellar.
“Well, then,” Ulias said simply. “I think it is time that we got to work.”
Chapter 11
By the time I climbed the steps back up to my tower rooms, my legs were shaking. Only two hours had passed — even Ulias said he could not keep my absence hidden any longer than that — and yet I felt as if I had spent at least a day, if not more than that, pushing boulders uphill.
None of the work with my father had prepared me for this. I would say that was partly because we had not delved into any great wielding of my power, since we hadn’t even known what it actually was, and partly because my father, being my father, had perhaps not pushed me quite as much as he should.
Ulias, howe
ver, had no such scruples.
He had me cast spells over and over, simple things such as making the stones on one wall glow as if imbued with the sun’s radiance, or making objects materialize in the cellar and then disappear to whence they came. And once I had done this to the point where my whole body shook with weariness, he would cast spells of his own, and demand that I tell him what they were. I had to sit, eyes shut, letting only that odd sense of mine tell me what he had done, so that I might relay this information to him.
Such an exercise sounds simple in theory, but in reality I had to strain to distinguish one spell from another, to make myself understand that it was not enough to merely feel the working of magic, but to know what kind of magic was being worked. It was not unlike an inexperienced youth working his way through the forms of the swordsman, and beginning to realize there was far more to the activity than merely swinging a blade about.
God knows my muscles ached as if I had spent the afternoon in sword practice rather than sitting on a stool, eyes screwed shut, while I forced my mind down pathways it had never trodden before. I collapsed on the divan, and barely had time to compose myself before Beranne’s eyelids fluttered open and she said,
“My goodness! Have I slept?”
“A little,” I admitted. I could not pretend that she hadn’t been asleep for the greater part of two hours; Ulias was a great magician, but even he could not stop the passage of time. “It is the weather, I suppose. I must confess that I’m feeling rather tired myself.”
She nodded, and cast a concerned glance at my face, as if she could read the weariness there. Truly, I wanted nothing else but to lie down on the divan and sleep for at least a day, but I knew that was not possible. No, the best I could hope for was a quiet evening and an early bed.
Luck seemed to be with me, for Kadar stayed out for most of the day, and dinner that night was subdued enough, only the usual gathering of courtiers, with soft music in the background, and no other entertainment. He seemed to be in a pleasant enough mood, and if he noted my own weariness, he did not mention it.
But once we were alone in our chambers, he turned to me and said, “It seems I owe you some thanks.”
I had been removing the earrings I’d worn to dinner, and went ahead and placed them in the box reserved for my jewelry before I replied, “Thanks? For what?”
“For the advice you gave me yesterday in the Hall of Grievances.”
Startled, I shut the box and gazed over at him. He stood a few feet away, near the fire; the dancing flames caught the edges of his dark hair and seemed to shimmer there, copper and dull gold. “Indeed?”
Although my tone had not been all that encouraging, he still smiled and said, “Your intuition was correct. I made inquiries, and it seems the man whose duty it was to disburse the funds to the innkeeper and those others whose properties we are acquiring has rather a taste for gambling, and is sorely in debt. As you said, he thought to line his pockets by telling the innkeeper that the treasury could not afford to pay him the sum originally promised and then pocketing the difference himself. We are lucky that the innkeeper is a man of mettle, and spoke up for himself, or the embezzler might never have been discovered.”
“I am glad of that,” I said, and indeed I was. Encouraged by his smile, I stepped away from the cabinet that contained my jewel box and went toward him. It felt good, to stand thus by the fire…or perhaps I was only glad of a reason to be closer to him. “I have seen it more than once, when my parents had dealings with the man whose job it was to inspect our wine casks, or the one who walked our acres to determine our taxes. Our king is a good man, but those who serve under him are somewhat less…admirable.”
“It saddens me to hear it, but it is the way of the world, unfortunately. At least in this case the man’s perfidy was discovered. He has been relieved of his post, but not before Althan also relieved him of the money he had taken from some of the other property owners. The funds have been restored to them, and all is well.”
“Good.” I paused then, weighing my next words. It would not do for me to seem too importunate, but I thought I should press my advantage now, while Maldis was still out of the castle. “Then perhaps I might ask a boon?”
Kadar raised an eyebrow, but only nodded. “What is this boon?”
“Only that you might reconsider your appointment of Maldis as your advisor. I cannot say that his counsel has been so very sound, and I think you did very well on your own before he ever came here.”
At these words the Mark frowned, the golden eyes fixed on my face. “I would very much like to know what you find so objectionable about my councilor.”
If only I could tell you. But of course the truth, however persuasive it might have been, was not a tool I could use at the moment. Not that I knew the whole of that truth, of course; I sensed Maldis’ evil without knowing yet its actual source.
“‘Objectionable’ is a harsh word,” I replied, taking care to keep my tone mild. Standing like this, with only a foot or so between us, I could almost feel the heat of his body. Foolish. It was only the warmth of the fire, radiating outward. And yet somehow I thought his arms would warm me far more than the fire ever could. I cleared my throat, pushing those treacherous thoughts away. “All I am saying is that I do not see his value to you. By your own admission, my counsel has done you more good. Or is the advice of a wife of less worth to you than the advice of paid advisor?”
“I think you know how much I value you.” The words were soft, but there was an edge to them that told me he, too, had sensed the tension between us, and did not know what to do about it.
Do I? I wanted to ask, but of course I did not. “Then can you not grant me this smallest of wishes?”
His hands knotted where they hung at his sides. That small gesture told me all I needed to know. He would not change his mind on this, no matter what he might feel for me, no matter what it might do to the fragile trust that had begun to grow between us. “I fear I cannot dismiss him simply because of one small error in judgment. He has too much to offer.”
Again I wished I could ask what promises Maldis had made, what he had offered Kadar to make his services so valuable. And I wished that I could cry out how I had felt his evil, knew he would bring nothing but misfortune upon North Eredor and its ruler. But somehow I knew the time for that was not now. I did not know enough…yet.
I looked away from Kadar then. It was easier to harden my words, my heart, when I did not have to look at his face, at those features that had become perilously dear to me. “I see where I stand, then. Very well. I suppose there is nothing for us to say to one another save ‘goodnight.’”
A silence, as he stood there a moment longer. I could feel the weight of his gaze upon me, even though I would not meet his eyes.
Then, “Goodnight, Lark,” and he brushed past me to his own sleeping chamber, leaving me to the spurious warmth of the fire, and the realization that, although I had done what I knew was right, I could take little joy in it.
* * *
At least Maldis was still gone the next day, and although it pained me to see Kadar quiet and guarded, speaking only of commonplaces before he could excuse himself and go about his business, I would be lying if I said I was not relieved that at least his advisor did not appear eager to return to the keep.
This time the summons came when I was blessedly alone, Beranne having been called to the house of her sister, who was taken with a fever. “But if you cannot do without me, my lady, I can send word that I must stay here.”
“Of course not,” I told her. “I managed well enough for the first twenty or so years of my life, so I think I can spare you this day. And I hope your sister is well again soon — make sure you take what stores and supplies you need from the castle. Do not worry about the expense of summoning a physician, if that should become necessary, for you can tell him that the Mark’s household will cover the cost.”
Grand words, and I hoped I had not overstepped my boundaries. But they see
med to hearten her, and she stammered her thanks before rushing off, promising that she would be back by nightfall. Then I was mercifully alone, quiet in my tower room with only Tresi for company. Not a quarter-hour later I felt the tug of Ulias’ magic, and saw my little dog asleep once more, curled up on the rug she’d appropriated as hers.
I bent down to stroke her behind her soft little ears, and she twitched but did not awaken. Smiling, I descended the stairs, moved like a ghost through the throngs in the main corridor, and headed on down to the cellars. My heart pounded somewhat, for I had a far better idea of what awaited me than I had the previous day. Exhilarating as it was for me to feel magic stir to life within me, its use was also far more tiring than I had ever imagined. And I had not slept well the night before, turning and tossing on the divan, even though it had given me plenty of restful slumbers before then.
Ulias was standing, watching me as I approached. “You do not look quite so eager as you did yesterday.”
“That is because I now know what to expect.”
I had thought he might smile at my remark, but his expression remained sober. “We have much lost time to make up.”
“So all the training with my father was for naught?”
“Not precisely. At least you have learned something of discipline. But you have a long way to go yet.”
Of course I did. Only a fool would think she had acquired any sort of mastery after only a day’s practice. I pulled out the stool and sat down, then asked, “Who is Maldis, really? And why did he leave so abruptly, when he had barely begun to assume his duties here?”
The pale features went very still then. Ulias said nothing for a long moment, but only gazed at me as if attempting to take some measure of my mettle. Finally he said, “I think it would be better if you discovered that for yourself. Think of it as another exercise.”
Which was Ulias’ way of saying that he would not give me a straight answer. Very well. I hadn’t really expected him to, but, as my father was wont to remark, one cannot get an answer if one is not willing to ask the question in the first place.
Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) Page 16
