Magician: Master

by Raymond Feist

  “I favored James or Owen, but she insisted,” Laurie said, while the boy tried to wriggle out of his arms.

  Katala took him. “I must feed him. I’ll take him to the kitchen.” She kissed Milamber and left the room.

  The magician stood quietly for a moment. “It is all more than I had hoped for. I was afraid she’d have found another.”

  “Not that one, P—Milamber. She would have nothing to do with any of the men who paid court to her, and there were a few. She’s a good woman. You need never doubt her.”

  “I never will, Laurie.”

  They seated themselves; a discreet cough at the door made them turn. Kamatsu stood at the door. “May I enter, Great One?”

  Milamber and Laurie started to rise, and the lord of the house waved them back into place. “Please, stay seated.” Kasumi entered behind his father and closed the door. Milamber noticed for the first time that the son of the house was wearing garments that were Midkemian in fashion. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  The head of the Shinzawai family looked deeply troubled and tried to collect his thoughts. After a few moments he said, “Great One, may I be frank with you? Your arrival today is something unexpected and the source of some possible difficulty.”

  “Please,” said Milamber. “I do not intend to cause disruption in your household, lord. I want only my wife and son. And I will require this slave also.” He indicated Laurie.

  “Your will, Great One. The woman and the boy should, of course, go with you. But if I may beg of you, please allow the slave to remain.”

  Milamber looked from face to face. The two Shinzawai maintained control, but by the way they glanced from one to the other and at Laurie, their distress was poorly hidden. Something had changed here in the last five years. The relationship between the men in the room was not what it should have been between masters and slave.

  “Laurie?” Milamber looked at his friend. “What is this?”

  Laurie looked at the other two men, then at Milamber. “I will have to ask you to promise me something.”

  Kamatsu’s shock was signaled by a sharp intake of breath. “Laurie! You dare too much. One does not bargain with a Great One. His words are as law.”

  Milamber held up a hand. “No. Let him speak.”

  In imploring tones Laurie said to his friend, “I know little of these matters, Milamber. You know I have no sense about protocol. I may be violating custom, but I ask you for the sake of our former friendship, will you keep a trust and vow to keep what you hear in this room to yourself?”

  The magician pondered the matter. He could command the Shinzawai lord to tell all, and the man would, as automatically as a soldier following orders, but his friendship with the troubadour was important to him. “I give you my word that I will not repeat what you tell me.”

  Laurie gave a sigh and smile, and the Shinzawai seemed to lose some of their tension. Laurie said, “I have struck a bargain with my lord here. When we have completed certain tasks, I am to be given my freedom.”

  Milamber shook his head. “That is not possible. The law does not permit a slave to be freed. Even the Warlord cannot free a slave.”

  Laurie smiled. “And yourself?”

  Milamber looked stern. “I am outside the law. None may command me. Are you claiming to be a magician?”

  “No, Milamber, nothing like that. It is true that I can only be a slave here. But I won’t be here. I will return to Midkemia.”

  Milamber looked puzzled. “How is that possible? There is only one rift into Midkemia, and that is controlled by the Warlord’s pet magicians. There are no others, or I would know of them.”

  “We have a plan. It is involved and will take much explaining, but simply put, it is this: I will accompany Kasumi, disguised as a priest of Turakamu the Red. He will be leading soldiers replacing troops at the front. No one is likely to notice my height, for the Red One’s priests are given wide berth. The troops are all loyal to the Shinzawai. Once in Midkemia, we will slip through the lines and find our way to the Kingdom forces.”

  Milamber nodded. “Now I understand the language lessons and the clothes. But tell me, Laurie. Are you willing to spy for the Tsurani in exchange for your freedom?” There was no disapproval in his voice, it was a simple question.

  Laurie flushed. “I am not going as a spy. I am going as a guide. I am to take Kasumi to Rillanon, for an audience with the King.”

  “Why?” Milamber was surprised.

  Kasumi interrupted. “I go to meet the King and bring him an offer of peace.”

  —

  MILAMBER RAISED AN argument. “How can you possibly expect to end the war with the War Party still in control of the High Council?”

  “There is one thing in our favor,” responded Kamatsu. “This war has lasted for nine years, and the end is nowhere in sight. Great One, I don’t presume to instruct you, but if I may explain some things?”

  Milamber nodded that he should continue. Kamatsu sipped his drink and went on. “Since the end of the war with the Thuril Confederation, the War Party has been pressed to maintain its dominance over the High Council. Each border clash with Thuril brought the call for a renewal of the conflict. Between the fighting on the border, and the constant attempts by the Thūn to break through the passes in the north and regain their former southern range, the War Party managed barely to maintain a majority. A coalition led by the Blue Wheel Party was on the verge of dislodging them ten years ago, when the Assembly discovered the rift into your former homeland. The call for war rang out in the council as soon as the rich metals of your homeland were known to exist. All the progress we had made over the years was lost in that instant.

  “So we began at once to counter this madness. The metals being mined on your former world are, from what Laurie has told us, the leavings of abandoned mines, not considered worth the bother by those you call dwarves. There is nothing in this for Tsuranuanni but an excuse to raise the War Banner again and shed blood.

  “You know our history. You know how difficult it is for us to settle our differences in a peaceful manner. I have been a soldier and know the glories of war. I also know its waste. Laurie has convinced me that my suspicions about those who live in the Kingdom were correct. You are not a very warlike people, in spite of your nobles and their armies. You would have been willing to trade.”

  Milamber interrupted. “This is all true. But I am not sure that it has any bearing on things as they stand now. My former nation had not fought a major war in nearly fifty years, except for skirmishes with the goblins of the north and along the Keshian border. But now the battle drums sound in the West. The Armies of the Kingdom have been blooded. The nation has been invaded without cause. They would not, I think, be willing simply to stop and forgive. There would be demands for retribution, or at least reparation. Would the High Council be willing to surrender the honor of Tsuranuanni and make restitution for the wrong done at the hands of its soldiers?”

  The Shinzawai lord looked troubled. “The council would not, I am sure. But the Emperor would.”

  “The Emperor?” Milamber said, surprised. “What has he to do with this?”

  “Ichindar, may heaven bless him, feels the war is bleeding the Empire of its resources. When we campaigned against the Thuril, we learned that some frontiers are simply too vast and far from the Empire to control, save at costs far greater than the victories are worth. The Light of Heaven understands that nowhere could there be a frontier as vast or far as that we have found on Midkemia. He is taking a hand in the Game of the Council. It is perhaps the greatest game ever played in the history of Tsuranuanni. The Light of Heaven is willing to command the Warlord to peace, to have him removed from office if need be. But he will not take the risk of so great a break with tradition unless he is guaranteed the willingness of King Rodric to come to terms. He must go before the High Council with peace a fait accompli; otherwise he risks too much.

  “Regicide has been committed only once in the history of
the Empire, Great One. The High Council hailed the killer and named him Emperor. He was the son of the man he slew. His father had tried to order taxes imposed upon the temples, the last time an Emperor played in the Game of the Council. We can be a hard people, Great One, even with ourselves, and never has an Emperor sought to do what Ichindar seeks, what others, many others, will see as laying down the honor of the Empire, an unthinkable act.

  “But if he can deliver peace to the council, then it will clearly show the gods give their blessing to such an undertaking, and none will dare challenge him.”

  “You risk much, Lord of the Shinzawai.”

  “I love my nation and the Empire, Great One. I would willingly die in the field for her, and I risked that often when I was younger, during the Thuril campaigns. I would also risk my life, my sons, the honor of my house, family, and clan to bring the Empire to sanity. As would the Emperor. We are a patient people. This plan is years in preparation. The Blue Wheel Party has long been secretly allied with the Party for Peace. We withdrew in the third year of the war to embarrass the Warlord and set the stage for Kasumi’s training for the coming journey. Over a year was spent in traveling to various lords within the Blue Wheel and Peace parties, ensuring cooperation, that every member would play his part in the Game of the Council, before you and Laurie were brought here to be his tutors.

  “We are Tsurani, and the Light of Heaven would not allow an overture to be made until he had a ready messenger. We have made Kasumi that messenger, seeking to give him the best possible chance of reaching your former King safely. It must be this way, for should any outside our faction learn of the attempt if it fails, many heads, including my own, would fall, the price of losing the game. If you take Laurie away, Kasumi has little chance of reaching your former King, and the peace effort will be postponed until we can find another trustworthy guide, a delay almost certain to last one or two more years. The situation is now critical. The Blue Wheel Party is again part of the Alliance for War, after years of negotiation with the War Party, and thousands of men are being sent to fight so that Kasumi may slip through Kingdom lines into your former homeland. The time will soon be ripe. You must consider what even another year of war would mean. With the conquest of your former homeland, the Warlord could become invulnerable to any move we may make.”

  Milamber considered, then to Kasumi said, “How soon?”

  Kasumi said, “Soon, Great One, a matter of weeks. The Warlord has spies everywhere and has some hint of our plans. He has little trust of the Blue Wheel’s sudden shift in the council, but he cannot refuse the aid. He feels the need to strike a great victory. He plans the major spring offensive against the forces of Lords Borric and Brucal, the Kingdom’s main strength. It will be timed to occur just before the Imperial Festival, orchestrated so he can announce the victory at the Imperial Games, for his own personal glory.”

  Kamatsu said, “It is much like an end-game gambit in shāh, Great One.

  “A smashing victory will gain the Warlord all he needs to take control of the High Council, but we risk this to play for our final move. The front will be in confusion as preparations are being made for the offensive. Kasumi and Laurie will have their best opportunity to slip through the lines. Should King Rodric agree, then the Light of Heaven can appear in the High Council with an announcement of peace, and all that the Warlord’s power and influence is based upon will crumble. In terms of shāh, we expose our last piece to capture so that our Emperor may checkmate a Warlord.”

  Milamber was thoughtful for a time. “I think you have embarked on a bold plan, Lord of the Shinzawai. I will honor my pledge to say nothing. Laurie may continue here.” He looked at Laurie. “May the gods of our forefathers protect you and bring you success. I pray this war may end soon.” He stood up. “If you don’t mind, I will take my leave. I would have my wife and child home now.”

  Kasumi rose and bowed. “I should like to say one thing more, Great One.”

  Milamber indicated he should proceed. “Years ago, when you asked for Katala for your wife, and I told you the request would be refused, I also told you there was a reason. It was our plan you would also return to your homeworld. I trust you understand that now. We are a hard people, Great One, but not cruel.”

  “It was apparent as soon as the plan was revealed.” He looked at Laurie. “For what I am now, this is my homeland, but there is still a part of me unchanged within, and for that reason I envy you your homecoming. You will be well remembered, old friend.”

  So saying, Milamber left the room. Outside the great house he found Katala waiting in a garden, watching their son at play. She came to him and they embraced, savoring sweet reunion. After a long moment he said, “Come, beloved, let us take our son home.”

  9

  Fusion

  Longbow wept in silence.

  Alone in a glade near the edge of the elven forests, the Huntmaster of Crydee stood over three fallen elves. Their lifeless bodies lay sprawled upon the ground with arms and legs bent at impossible angles, their fair faces covered in blood. Martin knew what death meant to the elves, where one or two children to a family in a century was the norm. One face he knew well, Algavins, Galain’s companion since boyhood, less than thirty years of age, still a child by the elven folk’s measure.

  Footsteps from behind caused Martin to wipe away the tears and resume his usually impassive expression. From behind he heard Garret say, “There’s another bunch down the trail, Huntmaster. The Tsurani went through this part of the forest like a bad wind.”

  Martin nodded, then set out without comment. Garret followed. For all his youth, Garret was Longbow’s best tracker, and they both moved lightly along the trail toward Elvandar.

  After traveling for hours, they crossed the river west of a Tsurani enclave, and when they were safely into the elven forests, a voice hailed them from the trees. “Well met, Martin Longbow.”

  Martin and Garret halted and waited as three elves appeared from among the trees, seemingly forming out of the air. Galain and his two companions approached the Huntmaster and Garret. Martin inclined his head slightly back toward the river, and Galain nodded. It was all the communication they needed to exchange the fact both knew of Algavins’s death, along with the others. Garret noticed the exchange, though he was far from conversant with the subtleties of elvish ways.

  “Tomas? Calin?” asked Martin.

  “In council with the Queen. Do you bring news?”

  “Messages from Prince Arutha. Are you bound for council?”

  Galain smiled the elvish half-smile that indicated ironic humor. “It has fallen to us to guard the way. We must remain for a time. We will come as soon as the dwarves cross the river. They are due anytime now.”

  The comment was not lost on Martin as he bade them good-bye and continued toward Elvandar. Approaching the clearing surrounding the elvish tree-city, he wondered at the exclusion of Galain and the other young elves from council. They were all constant companions of Tomas since he came to take up permanent residency in Elvandar. Martin had not been there since just before the siege of Crydee, but in those years he had spoken to some of the Natalese Rangers who ran messages from the Duke to Elvandar to Crydee. On several occasions he had spent hours talking with Long Leon and Grimsworth of Natal. While closemouthed when not among their own kind, they were less guarded with Longbow, for in the Huntmaster of Crydee they sensed a kindred spirit. He was the only man not a Ranger of Natal who could enter Elvandar unbidden. The two Natalese Rangers had indicated great changes in the Elf Queen’s court, and Martin felt a strange sort of silent disquiet.

  As they approached Elvandar in an easy, loping run, Garret said, “Huntmaster, will they not send someone to fetch the fallen?”

  Martin stopped and leaned upon his bow. “Garret, it is not their way. They will let the forest reclaim them, for they believe their true spirits are now abiding in the Blessed Isles.” He thought a moment, then said, “Among my trackers, you are perhaps the best I’ve known.�
�� The still young man blushed at the compliment, but Longbow said, “No flattery, but simply fact. I mention it because you are the one most likely to replace me should anything happen.”

  Garret’s usual hangdog expression gave way to one of close attention to what Martin was saying. Martin continued, “If something should occur that takes me from this life, I would hope that someone would continue to keep Elvandar and the human world from drifting apart.”

  Garret nodded. “I think I understand.”

  “You must, for it would be a sad thing for the two races to grow away from one another.” He spoke softly. “About their beliefs you must learn as you can, but a few things you should know, especially in this time of war. Do you remember how it is claimed that certain priests can recall the dead, if they are no more than an hour departed?”

  Garret said, “I have heard the story, but I have never met anyone who claims to have seen it done, or even claims to know someone who has seen it.”

  “It is true. Father Tully says so, and he’s not the sort to be less than forthright on matters of faith.” Martin looked down at the soil. “There is a story: an important priest—of which order I do not know—found himself grown away from the gods and caught up in the human world. He cast off his fine robes and golden ornaments and donned the simple homespun of an itinerant monk. He wandered the wilderness, seeking humility. Time and chance brought him to Elvandar, where he came upon a newly fallen elf, dead by accident but a few minutes before the priest arrived. He began to recall the elf from death, for he was a priest of great powers, and sought to share his abilities with all in need. He was halted by the elf’s wife, and when he asked her why, she said, ‘It is not our way. He is now in a far better place, and should you recall him, he will not return but against his will and to our sorrow. That is why we will not speak his name, lest he hear longing in our voices and return to comfort us at cost of his own.’ From what I know, no elf has ever been recalled from death.