I said only, “In which case, I suppose we must begin at once.”
And Ulias smiled and nodded, and once again we were off.
* * *
Maldis returned the evening of the third day. By then I was so weary that I could barely keep my eyes open at dinner. Kadar could tell something was wrong, but we had not yet mended the rift between us, and so he only watched me narrowly, wondering what was amiss but too proud to ask. And I knew my pallor and weariness was the subject of some gossip among the household servants, according to Beranne, who had returned to report that her sister was doing much better, thank you.
“And now they’re saying you’re doing poorly, and wondering if himself has an heir on the way.”
I let out a brief, bitter laugh at that. “Too well you know how wrong that speculation is, Beranne.”
“Yes, my lady,” she said, suddenly formal. “But of course I would never tell them that, my lady.”
“Of course not.”
And a little pang went through me as I wondered what it would be like to actually be carrying the Mark’s child…and I thought I probably would never know.
But these worries were cast aside when the dark mage returned at supper that evening. To all outward appearances, he did not appear to have changed at all, but I almost gagged when he came into the dining hall. Something oily and black and loathsome seemed to swirl around him, and for a second or two it was almost as if I could smell the stink of spilled blood, hot and metallic.
Somehow I managed to maintain my composure, to nod at him and smile, although I wanted nothing more than to run from the hall, to find a bowl so I could relieve myself of my half-eaten dinner. But that would only lead to more speculation. Besides, I could not let him know how he affected me. My wizard senses had sharpened enough for me to tell that he could discern nothing of my reaction to him…as long as I did not betray myself with a chance grimace or scowl.
Kadar, of course, welcomed him, and bade him take a seat at the high table. In the process he dislodged an elderly nobleman who looked none too pleased at being bumped so unceremoniously but who also seemed to realize that protests would do him no good. Luckily, the seat in question was on Kadar’s other side, and so at least I had him as a buffer between me and the man who felt like no true man to me at all, but rather some sort of animate sink of foetor and despair.
Although a good deal of food remained on my plate, I could no longer touch any of it. Instead I reached for my goblet and drank, staring out into the hall, watching as servants came and went and the guests laughed and talked and ate of their venison stew as if nothing had changed, as if all the darkness in the world had not coalesced and come among us. For a second or two it was as if all those laughing faces were turned to skulls, their chatter the skittering swirl of dead leaves in a graveyard.
And after that I recalled nothing, because the room spun and broke apart around me, and I fell into blackness, cold.
Nothing.
* * *
“Lark.”
I opened my eyes, saw green hangings directly overhead. At first I could not think where I was, then realized I must be lying in Kadar’s bed. And as that understanding dawned, I saw his face above me, pale and grim, and behind his wine-clad shoulder Beranne hovered, her own features equally pinched and white.
My head pounded, although I knew I had drunk barely one glass of wine. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Kadar told me. “One minute you were sitting beside me, and the next — ” He broke off, and shook his head.
Yes, I remembered now, remembered how I had swirled down into darkness, overwhelmed by the sensation of Maldis’ evil, as if it had grown somehow during his absence, strengthened in a way I could not begin to comprehend.
This did not bode well for any future confrontations I might have with him.
Somehow I managed a smile and said, “My own foolishness, I fear. I did not eat much today, and I suppose the lack caught up with me.”
Kadar did not appear altogether convinced, although I thought he seemed to relax somewhat. “You should take more care, my lady wife.” He cast a sharp look over his shoulder at Beranne. “And why did you not keep better watch over her ladyship, Beranne?”
She began to fumble for a response, even as I pushed myself up against the pillows and broke in, “It is none of her fault, Kadar. I am not a small child who needs to be cajoled into eating all of her vegetables. I was caught up in some reading. That is all. If my parents were here, they could tell you that it would not be the first time I missed a meal because my nose was firmly stuck in a book. The first time I have fainted, true, but you know well that I have had a difficult time accustoming myself to the cold here. Just an unfortunate combination of circumstances.”
It all sounded reasonable enough. I halfway believed it myself.
A pause, and Kadar said, “Well, Lark, if this is how you take care of yourself, then perhaps I shall have to keep a closer eye on you as well.”
“I assure you, it won’t happen again.”
He stood there for a long moment, staring down at me, while I returned his gaze as guilelessly as I could and prayed that he saw nothing untoward in my features. Then, to my surprise, he reached down and cupped the side of my face with his fingers, a brief touch, but still one that seemed to linger long after he removed his hand. “Don’t frighten me like that again.”
And then he was gone, giving a curt nod to Beranne as he went — no doubt an unspoken order for her to quell the whispers that must have arisen after my collapse. I could only pray that Maldis saw nothing in it save the sort of affliction that often strikes a young wife. No doubt the whispers would increase tenfold after this.
What they would say, as the weeks wore on and I showed no thickening of the waist, I didn’t want to think. No time to worry about that now. I had, as they liked to say back in my seaport town, bigger kettles of fish to fry.
Beranne approached me. “My lady — ”
“I’m fine, Beranne. It was a momentary dizziness, nothing more. In fact,” I added, summoning a smile that probably didn’t convince her but which I deemed necessary, “I am quite hungry. Could you bring me up a tray? No venison, but I would like some bread and cheese, and soup, if there is any left.”
“Of course, my lady,” she replied automatically, even though her eyes were alive with questions. “I’ll see to that right away. You rest now.”
I nodded, and let out a little sigh of relief as she turned from me and left the bedchamber.
As I lay back against the pillows — and tried not to think of what I should do if Kadar insisted that I stay in bed for the night, instead of returning to my divan — I heard Ulias’ voice in my head, clear as my own thoughts.
I would stay there, for the nonce. You have had more of a shock than you realize.
Dumbfounded, I felt my eyes widen, and even looked from side to side, as if I half-expected the winged mage to have somehow materialized in Kadar’s bedchamber.
No, I am still in my cellar. I thought it time to try this form of communication…we have had enough contact now that I guessed I would be able to establish a connection.
I took in a breath, and told myself not to be so astonished. After all, I had read that in ages past the great mages had been able to speak to one another with their minds, treating time and space as if they were nothing. But I had never been able to speak thus with my father, and had thought it either a fairytale or yet another skill lost along with so many others.
So you can hear me? I thought then.
Yes.
What happened to me?
A hesitation. In the back of my mind I sense an odd pulsing, as if Ulias were thinking but somehow shielding those thoughts from me. Then, He grew strong, this last time. You were doing as I taught you, sensing his power, but the source of it was too raw, too new, and you were unprepared for it. Your mind stepped in to shield you before it could touch any more of that…negative energy.
How
was it that our minds were touching, and yet I somehow knew there was much he still concealed from me? And what is the source of his power, Ulias?
Yet another pause, one that dragged out so long I began to think he would not reply at all. At length his response came to me, slow, as if he knew he must tell me the truth but was loath to do so.
You have sensed the evil in Maldis. I told you when we first met that he has discovered a way to pervert magic, to bend it to his own will. You see, magic is in the blood — it is as much a part of you as the color of your eyes, the sound of your voice. And so it is for all the mage-born who yet live. So few of you — of us — in these latter days, and yet the magic has not been completely denied, still comes forth in odd places and in odd generations, the blood bringing with it the power. It is that which Maldis has learned to harness. The mental voice took on a harsher tone. He was not born with any powers of his own, but being possessed of a hungry soul, a need to make more of himself than his mean birth and meager talents could provide him, he delved into dark knowledge, found at last a way to give himself a power he does not deserve.
How? I asked, although part of me did not wish to know the answer, wished to remain in happy ignorance.
By taking it from those who do possess it. This time the victim was a farmer named Rogin, a man who had made peace with his odd abilities, and lived a quiet life. If he never lost a flock to hoof disease, and if his hens always laid, well, you could say it was simple luck. But Maldis knows to look for these patterns, to see what is hidden beneath the surface, and to seek those at the source of these disruptions, to take them for his own purposes.
He — he killed this Rogin?
A mental sigh then, cold and hollow as the rustle of dead leaves in a graveyard. If only it were that simple. Yes, this man Rogin will die, but only after Maldis has sucked the lifeblood from him slowly, using it up as it suits his purposes. For it is by perverting the powers within the living blood that Maldis can claim them for his own, and so he must try to make his victims live as long as he can. For when one is used up, then Maldis has only his own cunning to support him, and he must needs seek another mage-born soul to revive his evil powers. That is why he left this last time — to find a new victim. And once Rogin can give no more, and is an empty husk, then Maldis must venture forth again.
I was glad then that I had not eaten much, for my stomach heaved and waves of nausea passed over me. Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, and then another. As horrifying as what Ulias had just revealed might be, I knew I must be strong. I must face this, even though nothing I had ever been taught could have prepared me for such a foe.
Something in what Ulias had said pricked at my mind, prompting me to ask, Are there so many of us? Those born with magical powers, that is.
More than you might think. All in hiding, all doing what they can to conceal what they are. Most of them do not have your powers, or your father’s powers, of course, but even so, they all have enough to make them potential victims of Maldis’ evil intentions.
I shifted on the unfamiliar bed. You say “of course” as if our powers are so very great. How is this so? What is it about my father, or me, that makes us stronger than Rogin, or that Lorenne the Fair you mentioned?
Only silence in my mind, a sense that Ulias had withdrawn for some reason. Then, the unspoken words heavy, he replied, This is something I know I must speak of to you…but not now. Not like this.
When, then?
When I can see you again in person.
When Maldis is off hunting another victim.
Yes, then. It is a sad necessity that drives me, but I can do nothing else. But now, I must go. I hear your husband and his “advisor” approaching. Take care, my Lark, and do what you must to keep yourself safe.
The contact was broken then, and I almost gasped aloud, the sensation not unlike being dashed in the face with a bucket of cold water. I sat up in bed, blinking, just as Beranne came in with a tray of food, Tresi at her heels, tail wagging frantically. The dog knew better than to expect anything of Beranne, but I was far more soft-hearted when it came to giving away table scraps.
“You look better, my lady,” Beranne said as she settled the tray in my lap and looked me over with a critical eye. “Color back in your cheeks, if I may say so.”
“I feel better,” I replied, and it was the truth. Although Ulias’ revelations had been horrifying, in an odd way I felt better now that I knew who — what — I faced. And since I was no longer in Maldis’ loathsome presence, strength had begun to return.
However, I knew that if I attempted to get out of bed, Beranne would tell me I certainly should not be getting up, not so soon after I had fainted, and so I broke off a piece of bread and ate it with a piece of soft yellow cheese, and interspersed bites with sips of the small beer she’d brought to supplement the meal. After a minute or so of this, however, I paused and said, “Do sit down, Beranne. It makes me nervous to see you hovering there like that.”
Looking somewhat startled, she nevertheless sank down into the nearest chair, the one at the small table where our breakfast tray was often brought. Since she did not have her ubiquitous mending with her, she could do little but sit there with her hands in her lap, brushing Tresi away from time to time whenever the dog wearied of watching me eat.
Seeing this, I tried not to smile. Beranne wanted to be stern with Tresi, but that was easier said than done. My smile faded, though, as I wondered what Maldis and Kadar were up to, down in that chilly cellar several floors below where I now lay. I wondered, too, how much Kadar knew of his counselor’s true nature. Very little, I guessed, for although the Mark might be ambitious and somewhat lacking in scruples, I thought even he might draw the line at sacrificing any number of innocent victims to feed Maldis’ unholy appetites.
Then I pushed the tray away and looked over at Beranne. “How well do you know the Mark?”
“Know him? He is my lord and master. What else is there to know?”
I suppose I should have expected no less, but still I pressed on. “Yes, but how long have you served here in the castle? Did you know him as a boy? What of his parents?”
The expression of puzzlement on her features only deepened. “I have been here since before he was born, my lady. I was but a girl then, younger than you, but I remember well enough when his mother, the Mark of her time, wed the corraghar leader. Such a thing was quite beyond the pale, as you might imagine.” Even now, when the event in question had occurred more than a quarter-century earlier, her lips compressed in disapproval.
“It was not a popular match, then?”
“Popular? Hardly, my lady. It was only the great love the people had for Corliss that kept them from rising in the streets. Everyone thought her consort — Marak — would bring the wolf-people with him, and chaos would soon follow. This did not happen, although one sees more of the corraghar about now than they did back then.”
“So why did she do it?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Was she in love with him?”
A snort, although Beranne cut it short and tried to make it seem as if the unbecoming sound had actually been an abortive sneeze. “No, my lady. That is, not that any of us could tell. I believe she thought being allied with the corraghar in such a way would strengthen North Eredor, make us more fit to compete with larger, stronger lands. But none of that came to pass, of course. The corraghar fight under no one’s banner but their own, just as they always have.”
“And is this why Kadar has no brothers or sisters?” I certainly had never heard anyone mention them, so I assumed they must not exist.
Beranne’s face grew shadowed then, and she looked away from me, out the doorway into the main chamber of the suite. “Two were born before him, and died before they lived a month. When he came, it was thought his mother would not survive the birth, so difficult it was. And after that she was never the same. She survived, but there was no more talk of any other children. Lord Marak was killed in a hunting accident when Kadar was just
learning to walk. And you can imagine how carefully he was watched over as he grew up, being the only heir. Poor lad lost his mother when he was barely sixteen, and no time to mourn, for he had a country to rule.”
“That’s terrible,” I murmured, heart wrung as I thought of what it must have been like to be orphaned at such an age, and to have to take up the reins of rule while still grieving the only parent he probably knew. “No wonder…” And I broke off, thinking I should not utter such a thing in front of Beranne, that no wonder Kadar sought to strengthen his country by any means necessary, when that was probably something which had been instilled in him from his earliest youth.
But somehow Beranne seemed to understand something of what I had meant to say, for she nodded solemnly. “Perhaps it is not possible for you to agree with everything he does, but — ”
“ — but I can begin to understand. Yes, Beranne.”
She smiled at me then, and stood and took the empty tray from my lap. “You should try to sleep, my lady. You must keep up your strength.”
True words, although she perhaps did not know how true. There was no way I could begin to explain, so I only nodded and slid down the pillows, making myself as comfortable as I could. The last thing I saw before I shut my eyes was Tresi dancing after Beranne, hoping for a scrap of bread or a rind of cheese.
And, despite all I had seen, all I had learned that day, I smiled.
Chapter 12
It was blackest night when I felt Kadar settle into bed next to me. At first I startled, forgetting where I lay, but then I realized I was the interloper here, in this bed not my own.
I must have made some sound, for I heard his voice in the darkness. “Forgive me. I did not mean to wake you.”
“It is all right.” I turned on my pillow, facing toward him, although I could see nothing of him save a darker shape against the gloom in the chamber. “Is it very late?”
Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) Page 17
