Court Wizard: Book Eight Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  “Oh, we had things well in hand,” she lied. “Another few moments and I would have unleashed nine kinds of arcane hell on them.”

  “Which would have revealed we had a high mage working with us, and perhaps revealed which high mage,” Sir Vemas reproved. “Best we keep that secret for as long as possible.”

  “If that pack of curs you conjured doesn’t suggest that, the Crew isn’t as smart as I thought,” Arborn said, wrinkling his brow.

  “That wasn’t me,” Pentandra said. “But magic is really the only way to explain how the strays entered the fight, and did so on only our side. Unless you gentlemen have a few pounds of bacon in your pouches I am unaware of,” she added, as the dogs continued to savage the fallen Rats. The Woodsmen were doing their best to slip in and end the suffering of the mauled criminals with decisive thrusts of their blades.

  Just then a large raven flew by – when by all rights it should have been asleep. Pentandra started to guess where the canine assistance came from.

  “That was me,” came a quiet, girlish voice in the darkness.

  Slender, slight little Alurra walked into the center of the carnage, tapping her way with her staff, as casually as if she was on her way to the market.

  The young girl couldn’t see the blood and gore around her, of course, but the smell of battle was unmistakable. Her raven returned to her shoulder, and two of the stray dogs milled around her feet. “That was one reason why Old Antimei sent me – because I can call the animals to help. She told me to call all the dogs in Vorone to help tonight, else you all might have died. And then everything would have gone into the chamberpot, after that,” she ventured.

  “And who are you, my dear?” asked Sir Vemas, as his men began to treat the wounded Woodsmen, and finished dispatching the wounded Rats. It was a brutal business, but it was necessary. There were no prisoners in this war.

  Kulin’s Law, Pentandra reminded herself, grimly.

  “Yes, who are you, girl?” Arborn demanded, sternly.

  “She’s my new apprentice,” Pentandra said with a sigh. It was the first time she had admitted it. “She’s on our side.”

  “Your new apprentice?” her husband and Sir Vemas asked simultaneously. Arborn added, “When did this happen? I’ve only been gone but for a few days . . .”

  “Today,” Pentandra groaned. “It’s complicated. I don’t even understand it, yet. And I don’t think the street, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a bloodbath, is really the best place to discuss it, do you?”

  “Quite right,” agreed Sir Vemas. “Let’s get these men some medical attention, then meet back at the hall. I’ll have my men deal with the corpses,” he added, grimly. “There must be a score of them.”

  “Including the two head rats,” Carastan said, hauling the lifeless body of Bloodfinger into the light. It was transfixed by two thick arrows. “Opilio took an arrow in the throat, coming out of the shop. If any of his men escaped, we didn’t witness it.”

  “So much for trying to drive them against each other,” Pentandra sighed. “I was hoping Bloodfinger’s paranoia would manifest against the Crew.”

  “The Rats are highly disciplined,” Sir Vemas observed. “It was a good strategy. But Bloodfinger’s paranoia drove him instead to confess to his superiors, I believe. And they set up this ambush in response. I’m guessing that these reinforcements were supplied by the other Crews, if not by Master Lothar himself. If it wasn’t for your warning, your husband, and your apprentice, my lady, they would have achieved their goal,” the constable guessed.

  “How did you know we would be here?” Pentandra asked Arborn. “And how did you know we would need your help?”

  “I went to the house as soon as we arrived,” Arborn told her, in his familiar deep voice. Every word seemed to fall around Pentandra like a warm, protective cloak. “There was a message waiting there, saying to meet you here with all the bowmen I could muster.”

  “I left no message,” Pentandra protested. “I wasn’t expecting you back at any particular time, nor did I know about this ambush.”

  “That was me, again,” Alurra admitted. “Old Antimei gave me very specific instructions about tonight, to keep things from going poorly. I left the message at the Spellmonger’s Hall before I went to the palace this morning, Mistress.”

  “It appears that there is far more to your new apprentice than meets the eye,” Arborn observed. “Perhaps we should retire for the evening and discuss it?”

  “I’ll join you as soon as I finish up here,” Sir Vemas assured her. “And don’t discount the good we’ve done here on the basis of the blood. With this carnage we’ve managed to deal a stout blow to the Crew across Vorone. You don’t replace an organization like this overnight. By morning, the entire town will understand what has happened. But I’ll fill you in back at the house when I’m done and seen my men attended to.”

  “I agree,” Pentandra said. “This mask smells of some ancient coquette’s sweat. And I have developed a sudden desire for a glass of spirits or three.”

  “’To Lady Pentandra, Court Wizard to His Grace, Anguin II of Alshar, I humbly send you greetings and hope to beg a boon,’” Pentandra repeated, that night, when she and Arborn had settled the Kasari into the loft above their heads and gotten the wounds of the Woodsmen tended. Alurra was waiting quietly and patiently in the kitchen, and only when the moon had begun to set in the west did Pentandra have time to sit down by the fire with the girl – and her prophesied husband – and read it.

  “‘I am known as Old Antimei, a hedgewitch in the remote village of Tolindir, and for over thirty years I have practiced the Good Art for the benefit of the people of my village and environs. It has been a good life, but a hard life made harder by the goblins in the west. With what Art I have I have done my best to provide and protect these people magically.

  “’But before I came into exile in this rustic land, far from the prying eyes of the Censorate, I was called by another name entirely, and was a registered mage in the south.

  “’Due to the blessings of the gods I was damned with the gift of prophecy early in life; thanks to my education, I knew full well the price of revealing it to others. Instead of turning myself in to the mercies of the Censorate of Magic, which would have imperiled my family, as I was legally bound to do, I kept my gift a secret as long as I could. When I could conceal it no longer, I fled to the farthest corner of the Duchy and changed my name before the Censors could take notice.

  “‘I have carefully practiced my cursed Art in secret, awaiting the long-foreseen day when the Bans would be lifted by the Spellmonger, before I revealed them to a living soul. Now that the time is finally upon us, the visions I’ve witnessed are finally coming to pass.

  “‘Among them are many concerning you, personally, my lady,” Pentandra continued, her voice full of intrigue at the unexpected message. “I have foreseen many events unfold in your life. Which is why I must now entrust the education and upkeep for my dear apprentice, Alurra, to you now. As she has already proven, she can be a great benefit to your undertakings, and you are, without a doubt, the mage best-suited to instruct and develop her impressive Talent. I have done so to the best of my abilities, but I am limited by both age and health. Alurra needs the strong hand of a seasoned wizard to bring her into the fullness of her power. I can only hint to you, now, how important that may become in the future.’”

  Pentandra dropped the parchment and looked at the girl, who was listening intently to the words of her teacher come out of Pentandra’s mouth. “So, according to this hedgewitch, I am fated to take you as an apprentice,” she stated.

  “If that’s what she said,” Alurra shrugged. “Old Antimei rarely discusses the details of her visions, even with me, and sometimes she spends weeks considering their meaning. When she does speak of them, she does so as . . . stories. She says they’re easier to understand that way. Is that all she wrote?”

  “Oh, no, there’s much more,” Pentandra assured her. She
didn’t know what to think about this mysterious woman’s alleged gifts, and even less about how to proceed. “She continues, ‘I know all of this may come as a shock to you; indeed, I am anticipating no other reaction. Burdening you with this unforeseen responsibility when we have not yet even met seems like a harsh introduction. But I pray that you proceed with faith in my gifts, and faith in my good intentions. For I seek nothing else than the restoration of the Realm and its defense from the threat to the West. If my prophecies are true – and after thirty years, I am assured that they are – then your wisdom, will, and insights will become instrumental in the fulfillment of my visions.’

  “’If you are willing to proceed invested in that faith, then I urge you to take Alurra as I have requested and do your best to teach her formal Imperial-style magic. Her sightlessness makes this a challenge, but she is a quick-witted girl of exceeding intelligence.’”

  The apprentice beamed at the praise, and even the raven on her shoulder seemed to preen.

  “While prone to impetuousness and fancy, she is reasonably reliable, at her age. More importantly, I foresee that her loyalty and her gifts, including her profound abilities in native Brown Magic, will be instrumental in the fulfillment of your own goals and desires. While she comes trained for basic service, she needs instruction on urban life, as well, and perhaps even the ways of the court. All of these I know you are well-equipped to see to.’

  “’In return, Alurra will become a trusted ally and an asset to your endeavors in ways you cannot yet imagine. I will leave that exploration to the two of you, but foresight instructs me that you will become not just good professional colleagues, in time, but fast friends.’”

  Pentandra looked at the girl skeptically. “Just to warn you, I don’t make friends easily,” she said, warily.

  “Most of mine bark, flap, or purr,” Alurra nodded. “I’m more comfortable in a herd than a hall.”

  Arborn chuckled as he lit his pipe with a taper at the fire. “This promises to be an interesting relationship!”

  Pentandra shot her eyes to her husband, and only barely controlled her anger. “This isn’t funny, Husband! I do not like being forced to take an apprentice! Certainly not by post, by an old witch I’ve never even met!”

  “Wife!” Arborn called, sternly. “Please do not upset our guest.”

  Pentandra stopped her tongue before she said something she regretted, and sighed. He was right to rebuke her, she realized. As inconvenient as this was for her, she could only imagine what must be going through the mind of the young girl. “I’m sorry, Alurra. I just wasn’t prepared . . .”

  “It’s all right,” the girl said, calmly, “I’ve known about this since before Yule, and I still don’t feel prepared. But if Antimei says it needs to be so, then so it shall be. She’s just like that,” she shrugged. The raven was apparently used to the movement, for it barely noticed its perch shifting.

  “It’s . . . it’s nothing personal,” Pentandra said, apologetically.

  “I know,” Alurra assured her. “I’m expecting some interesting times ahead, too. But it all works out, in the end. For now,” she added. “There should be just a little more . . .”

  “There is,” Pentandra conceded, turning back to the scroll. “’I understand how easy it might be to dismiss the words of a poor rural hedgewitch and her claims of prophesy, but I have provided within this letter three bits of proof of my powers, which shall come to pass shortly. My desire is that you take Alurra for the summer, do your best to instruct her, and if she proves unsatisfactory or fails to give good service, then send her back to me here. But I am certain that what I have seen in my visions will come to pass, and that Alurra will be with you until she passes her certification examinations.

  “’Lady Pentandra, I implore you not just as a subject of the Realm begging a boon of the Court Wizard, as so many do, but as a fellow colleague in our craft seeking the best possible instruction for my student. If the stakes were not so high, or the fate of so many dependent upon the outcome, I would never presume . . . but the gods ask of us what they will, and it is up to us to comply.

  “’I trust that this will be agreeable to you. I remain, your servant, Old Antimei, the Witch of the Wilderlands.’” Pentandra quietly rolled the note back up. “I guess I have inherited a new apprentice,” she sighed, after a moment’s contemplation. Arborn looked at her studiously.

  “Is that wise?” he finally asked. Of all the objections he could have raised, that was one she hadn’t expected.

  “Perhaps not. But neither are a great many things I’ve done over the years. That doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do. I’ll tell you what . . . give me a day to think about it,” she decided. “Let me actually get to know you a bit, and see if I think things will work out. I owe you that much simply for arriving with a pack of angry hounds, when you did tonight.”

  “Oh, thank you, Lady Pentandra!” Alurra said, excitedly.

  “You can sleep in our chamber tonight,” she decided, her heart sinking as she realized that a lusty reunion with her husband would have to wait. “The hall below will be filled with exhausted guardsmen, and I think the new Kasari are bunked in the loft.”

  “I’ve never felt safer,” Alurra assured her. “I didn’t bring much in the way of belongings – just one little pack.”

  “Who came with you, child?” asked Arborn, concerned.

  “Who? Why, no one. I came by myself. Except for Lucky, here, and my other friends. Animals,” she clarified.

  “You speak to animals?”

  “She’s a brown mage,” Pentandra supplied. “Like Lenodara. Only even more powerful, from the way you enchanted that entire pack of dogs,” she added, approvingly. Arborn wasn’t nearly as impressed by that as he was her journey.

  “A blind girl walked more than seventy leagues through goblin territory . . . by herself?”

  “She said she had her crow,” Pentandra pointed out. “It proves she’s capable and self-reliant – two qualities sadly lacking in most apprentices.”

  “Raven,” Alurra corrected. “It wasn’t that bad. Lucky and the others scouted ahead, miles ahead, and always kept watch. I never got closer than a mile to a goblin,” she boasted, proudly. “They watched out for me and kept me safe the entire way here.”

  “And once you got to the town?” Pentandra prompted.

  “Oh, Antimei had me go visit a hedgewitch she knows here, a friend. I’m to go to her if you . . . reject me.” The tone in her voice demonstrated that the blind girl feared that alternative, but was ready to face it.

  “And if I do? Reject you, that is?” she asked, curious.

  “It would be . . . bad,” Alurra decided.

  “Bad? How, bad?”

  “Bad in so many horrible ways I can’t even think about them all. You must understand, Mistress, I don’t want this because I want this, if you take my meaning. It has been . . . foreordained?” she said, trying hard at the long word.

  “Fated?” Pentandra shot back, automatically, her stomach sinking. There were several examples of prophecy and foresight intruding into history. Universally, such entanglements spelt disaster for those involved. “That is dangerous talk, my girl. We all have the freedom of our will.”

  “So it is said,” Alurra nodded. “As Antimei says, our fates are composed of our free will struggling against circumstance, with destiny the inevitable outcome.”

  “What does that even mean?” Arborn asked, confused.

  “I’m . . . I’m not really certain myself,” Alurra confessed, hurriedly. “But I trust her. She has helped my village for generations, always far more powerful than she lets on. All I ask is that you grant her this boon. She says she can’t teach me any more magic, on account of my eyes. I can’t read,” she sighed. “I can see through the eyes of my animal friends, but their minds can’t . . . see words, not the way human eyes apparently can. Or something like that,” she dismissed, frustrated. “So I’ve learned as much as she can teach me, but A
ntimei says it will take one of the most creative and talented magi in the world to finish the job. Lady Pentandra.”

  “This is not the usual way apprentices are selected, I take it,” Arborn said, quietly, as the silence following Alurra’s declaration stretched.

  “No, usually . . . well, honestly, I do not know. I’ve never taken one before. Minalan chose his first apprentice, Tyndal, and inherited his second. His third, Lenodara, he selected to avoid a riot breaking out. I’m not certain that there is a standard method for that sort of thing. I mean, the Magic Fair has a venue to match good apprentices with good masters, but that’s a relatively new development.

  “None of which factors into my decision,” she announced, setting her wine glass on the table in front of her. “I’ll prepare a bed for you in our chamber tonight, and we shall reconsider the matter by light of day. Arborn, would you mind fetching some blankets from the press? I don’t want to wake the servants at this hour.”

  Later, when Alurra was settled in, her raven perched on a rafter overhead, Pentandra and Arborn retired to their own bed and drew the curtains. As an additional guard, Pentandra cast spells to keep them from being overheard by the sleeping girl.

  “Welcome back, my husband,” she said, kissing him warmly as she slid into bed. “I’ve been expecting you for days.”

  “I was delayed,” Arborn reminded her, apologetically. “We were in the east country when I received a message. I had to meet . . . someone,” he said.

  “Who?” Pentandra asked, innocently. Arborn’s reluctance to speak of the matter invited her curiosity, she reasoned.

  “I . . . there are some things I must be cautious about speaking of,” he mumbled. That caught Pentandra’s attention sharply.

  “Like what? Unless it’s another wife and a cottage full of bastards, I can’t think of anything you couldn’t share with me,” she said, patiently.

  “It’s . . . well, our marriage has put me in a difficult position—”