“You could take us with you,” she suggested hopefully. “You’re a stranger here. You’re not staying, are you?”
Sean was afraid she was going to get to that. The alternative was to turn them into a cluster of street urchins forced to sell their bodies for food, or forced to steal, and if they were ever caught, their fate would be so very much worse than a common thief or whore might expect. Sean toyed with the idea of talking to their families; he might be able to decrease their numbers by a few, but that still left the rest of them.
He looked at the little boy in the girl’s arms. Had he been instrumental in the destruction of his family? Sean saw a delicate red glow streaked with light blue. Had he been able to fan his flames wherever he wanted?
“You’re just kids,” Sean said, agonizing over the dilemma. “How old are you anyway, twelve? I can’t afford to remove your shields, not yet anyway.”
Tears glittered in her eyes, but Sean could tell by the set of her shoulders that she would take whatever he dished out, and cry later.
“We can still work,” said an older boy, as he pulled himself upright on his cot. His voice was hoarse and strained. “My…” He struggled with himself. “My ma… She used to insist…” Sean watched his jaw clench at a memory that was laced with pain. His face was thin and aged beyond his tender years, though he looked to be among the oldest here.
Sean looked around at them. The youngest, the boy who was crying, looked to be maybe seven. He looked at Cordan; he would be the one who’d have to deal with them most of the time.
Cordan shrugged. “We might be able to find them apprenticeships in other cities. We might need other mages, too, somewhere along the line.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, remembering the mage attacks from the rooftops. Other magical defenses would have been nice. He looked back at the room full of kids. “Okay, we’ll leave in the morning.” He turned back to Cordan. “See that they are properly dressed and mounted.” Sean stood and looked at the two who had spoken, they appeared to be among the oldest in the room. “I have to cover a lot of distance in a very short amount of time, so I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told others who wanted to follow me. If you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”
“We’ll keep up,” said the boy, as he sat up straighter.
Sean looked at him. “The shields stay.”
“Fine,” he said.
Sean didn’t think he was too willing to use magic again, not for a while anyway. He’d want it soon enough; earth magic was very useful at times.
Guild-Free City
Sean’s men were still a thick presence in the city, so it wasn’t hard for a group of five gray-haired men looking for their leader, to find the right inn before the morning was half gone.
Sean was considering getting more sleep, or perhaps another plate of food, as he waited for his latest orders to be carried out.
Now that there was a clear trail to the camp, Sean had sent men back there to bolster the guard. Larry and Cordan were out gathering the necessary items for his new followers. Laon was out looking for his horse and getting his sword reground. Even Jenny and Mattie were out restocking some of their smaller supplies.
When the men came in, Sean knew instantly they might be a problem. “We are the city council and we demand to know your intentions,” said the man in the center of the group, speaking to the room at large, while trying to identify who might be in command. About a dozen men were scattered around the room, and it was obvious that none of them were locals, but it was impossible to tell who was in charge.
Everyone in the room openly gaped at the newcomers. To Sean, they looked like a group of men who had bolstered their courage enough to make a grab for the position they claimed. It looked like they were in need of baths too, as if they had just rushed in from their farms, or perhaps crawled out from under their rocks. Well, I do need something to fall back on. If Guet can’t take up his position as ruihano, if these men can show me they know something of what they are asking for… I’ll see what they have to say.
Sean stood slowly. “Have a seat, gentlemen.” He waved them to chairs at one of the larger tables and then lounged irreverently in a chair across from them. He waved the innkeeper over. “I’ll have a tall glass of milk and a plate of meats, and bring these gentlemen whatever they want.” Sean figured his visitors would at the very least order beer, but he knew that if he drank any he’d be yawning within minutes.
The spokesperson of the group nodded, though he looked confused by what he saw; Sean was the only man in the inn who wasn’t wearing armor. In fact, he had yet to wear anything that had his crest on it in this city, and at the moment, he could have been mistaken for the son of a common farmer, though perhaps one of the wealthier farmers. His lack of armor made him look like the youngest person in the room, which he probably was. The only thing that might indicate his authority was his crown. Despite the fact that he wore it most of the time, Sean had never required his men to show him any more deference than they showed Cordan or Larry, and the innkeeper followed suit.
Sean let the men gather their thoughts while the innkeeper took their order for beer and left to retrieve the drinks. By the time the drinks arrived, they were starting to get restless. Sean took a few sips of his milk, then ‘added’ a handful of ice cubes into the glass before reaching for a piece of meat.
The man sitting directly across the table gasped when he realized what Sean had just done. “You’re…you’re one of…one of…them.”
“You didn’t really think I could walk in on your guild of mages armed only with a sword, did you?” asked Sean. He liked keeping people guessing about him, it made them easier to read.
“Well no, of course not,” replied the speaker, “But we can’t afford to have another guild, not when it turns into something like…” he waved his hand vaguely, “…something like that.”
Sean looked closely at the man. He had been used hard by the guild. Maybe he had lost family to them. “The guild was very useful at first. It protected you and your city from the tender attentions of my uncle. From what I can gather, none of your people were taken away from here. You were not forced to take in any demons and I’m willing to bet you haven’t paid any of your taxes since my uncle took control, though I don’t think the rest of the district was so lucky. Defeating my uncle…”
“That devil Ludwyn was your uncle? Who are you?” asked the man across the table from Sean, interrupting him with his revelation.
“My name is Seanad Éireann Barleduc-Ruhin, my father was Prince Deain Ruhin and my mother was Lady Kassandra Barleduc,” he recited. He was getting to the point where he really wished he didn’t have to use his full name; it was such a mouthful, but it was necessary. Perhaps he would be able to come up with a simpler name for his son.
“How can we be sure what you say is true? There are a million rumors about what happened to the royal family,” countered the speaker as he leaned close over his untouched beer.
Sean pulled back from thoughts of his son’s name. He looked at the man critically for a few minutes then shrugged. His ancestor’s great sword, as well as the horn, appeared in the middle of the table. “Is this proof enough, or do you require something more?”
The men reared back in their seats at the appearance of the artifacts as if they might turn into snakes and bite them. Their reaction gave Sean the idea, but he resisted the urge, though he wasn’t so successful in fighting down a small grin.
The speaker slowly reached out a hand and touched a finger to the dragon etched on the sword. His face went very pale; he turned so white that Sean thought for a minute he might faint.
When he reached for the horn, his hand was shaking. He touched the gold dragon that crawled over its surface with a tentative finger; the six colored flames curled out of its mouth and engulfed the larger end. It was beautiful to look at. My wife made… No, it wasn’t my wife. Bubbles of memories pop once in awhile, but Sean knew his wife had made that horn out of the battle ho
rn he had used to rally his men at the pass. It was odd, thinking of himself this way. He could clearly picture the people and the event, though it was only a snapshot of the life it had come from.
Sean looked up from the man’s trembling fingers to see Guet being ushered into the room, followed by his family. Guet’s son-in-law looked tons better with a few meals in his belly, some hours of good sleep and some clean clothes. His son looked better too; he was standing proud anyway, and the haunted look in his eyes wasn’t as noticeable.
“You’re not doing anything we’re all going to regret later, are you, Baldwin?” asked Guet.
The man, Baldwin, snatched his hand back from the horn and turned to see who had spoken. “Guet,” he exclaimed. He launched himself out of his chair and the two men crashed together like they couldn’t get enough of each other. “I thought you were dead.”
They pushed apart. “Where the hell have you been?” asked Guet, as he appraised Baldwin’s condition.
Sean cleared his throat, gently reminding them of the talks that were already underway, then he nonchalantly took another sip of his milk, now quite cold.
The man called Baldwin pulled Guet to the table. “This is my brother. I haven’t seen him for years,” said Guet.
“About fifteen years, I should think,” said Sean. Now he knew why the man looked so worn. “You were burned out weren’t you? How did you escape?”
Baldwin sat back down. “Has it been that long?” He looked up at the boy, Berck, then at Guet’s daughter and her husband, Marcq, who was a stranger to him, and yet he held the little girl. “I’ve missed so much.” He frowned, then turned to Sean to answer his question. “I think it was your uncle’s third or fourth advance. My son stepped in and took up the reins, and I was allowed to wander away unnoticed during the commotion.” He indicated the men who had come with him. “These men were my advisers and friends at the time. They took me to a healer; there was nothing he could do, but they kept me hidden.” His shoulders slumped and he reached up to pinch his brow. “By the time I could get along by myself, Dunkan had changed things…he had changed; he wanted more power. He still kept Ludwyn at bay; to that end he’d started to round up more mages. At some point, he offered a reward for my return. Two of my men returned to tell him where I was, but when they admitted to hiding me to keep me safe, he tortured them somehow. Only one of them escaped with his life, though he didn’t live much longer.” Baldwin looked even more diminished. “I never would have thought my own son…”
“Was your son an albino?” asked Sean. He had to know.
Baldwin looked up at him. “I saw the body.” He took a deep breath. “How did you get close enough?”
“Let’s just say he tangled with a flying dragon,” replied Sean.
Baldwin’s eyes riveted back to the half-exposed sword as if he were looking for some sign, some trace of his son’s death on its blade.
“It’s an instrument of death,” said Sean gently. “It’s very heavy and very unforgiving. My aim’s not too bad, either.” He didn’t bother to tell him that he’d actually missed, but the sword had killed him anyway.
Baldwin looked up at Sean’s words; he had loved his son. “I suppose there was no other way.”
“I couldn’t see any,” said Sean.
Baldwin looked at Sean from across the table and he could see the man’s mind shift from the death of his son to the breaking of the guild. He was, after all, a leader, and leaders must deal with loss all the time, even the loss of a son, and he had lost his son a long time ago. “You must have gone in there with your whole army. By the moons, how did you manage to spare so many? How many did you lose?”
Sean corrected his assumption. “I snuck in there like a thief with only my bodyguard. I was able to shield more than half his mages before he found us. After that, it was head-to-head, especially after we came eye-to-eye. I didn’t lose anyone.”
Everyone at the table gaped at him, with the exception of Berck. Sean watched him as he downed the rest of his milk and crunched on his ice. “Listen, gentlemen. You’ve convinced me. The city is yours. You should see to the rest of the district as soon as possible. There are garrisons with demons and they need to be handled. If you will excuse me…”
They rose to leave. “What are we supposed to do with demons?” asked Guet.
“It’s difficult, but they can be redeemed. You should try. You may not be able to help the horses. I’ve had some success, but I don’t have the time to visit every garrison and take on every unfortunate creature stabled there. Do what you can, I’ll be in touch.” As the men filed out of the inn, Sean gave Berck’s sleeve a little tug with air magic earning a sharp look, but he hung back.
When everyone was gone, Sean asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he replied. His voice sounded steady, but carried a harsh edge, especially for a boy of only fourteen.
“Do you want the magic back?” asked Sean.
His eyes darted to Sean’s face again and his jaw shot up. “No, I never want it back. I never want to feel like that again.”
“Those weren’t your feelings, you know. They were his. You all functioned under one man’s mind. It’s to be expected that you would have his feelings too.”
“Can you make me forget them, then?” He was holding his shoulders very rigid.
Sean thought of Cisco. He had made her forget, but in the end she had remembered, some things anyway. “I can do that, but remembering can help you know what not to do in the future.”
Berck’s shoulders were shaking with tension, his hands strangling each other under the table. His eyes turned red as his gaze shifted around the room before coming back to Sean. “I…did…things. Please take it away. Please, I don’t want to know…”
Sean sighed. “I’ll take it away, but not very far. I still think it’s important for you to remember.”
Grasping at straws, the boy nodded, his eyes glistening as they shifted furtively without quite looking away.
Sean pushed himself away from the table. “Come over here.” He used the time to figure out exactly what he would need to say. Berck was tender and just the age to not appreciate his saying so. He pushed a chair out and waved him into it so they sat knee to knee. Sean gripped his cold, clammy hands in his own and wove a filament of black magic. “All the thoughts, all the feelings, and most importantly, all the commands that came from your user will be as if they came to a hammer. You will not feel them, you will not think them, they did not come from you and they will not haunt your dreams. You will know that they happened, but they are past now, and they happened to the hammer, not to you.” Sean let him go, and in the process, he slacked up on his shield. Someday, he might want to reach for the magic again, and Sean wanted him to be able to. Just now, magic was very unpopular here, but someday…
Guet stuck his head back in the door. “Berck?”
Berck sat up and squared his shoulders. He stood to follow his father, but before leaving he said, “Thanks. It’s better. It’s less than I had hoped, but it’s better.”
A short time later, Sean was picking at the plate of meats, planning on how he might do much the same with the other kids, when Laon strode in with an odd expression of pissed off wonderment on his face.
“Did you find your horse?” asked Sean.
“The blockhead found himself a mare in heat. The blacksmith wanted to shoot the beast, but was afraid he might belong to one of us. The owner of the mare wasn’t too happy, either. He wants me to buy him another plow horse. He says the mare won’t be much use to him pregnant.”
Sean was grinning. “So, buy the man another horse. Maybe he’ll use the extra stock to expand his fields. Maybe he’ll like the breed and start to sell them.” Sean stood up and staggered. Laon was at his side in an instant.
“You need to sleep; we should be ready to go in the morning,” said Laon. His look said that this sudden weakness frightened him.
Sean didn’t remember much about the departu
re, even after eighteen more hours of sleep, he was still mostly running on fumes, and there weren’t many of them. He did manage to shove his brain cells back together when Guet and his brother, Baldwin came up to them with four men toting a large chest.
“We haven’t paid our due taxes for fifteen years, so we rounded up what we could.” Baldwin waved a hand at the chest.
“That’s very generous of you,” said Sean, “but I’m not going to begrudge you taxes withheld from my uncle. Keep it; use it to take care of those demons. We’ll talk taxes due when I get back to the palace.”
Cordan leaned over to catch Sean’s sleeve. “My lord, you shouldn’t tell him something like that. He might think to take advantage…”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Sean said back to him, making a conscious effort to ensure Baldwin would hear, seemingly by accident. Sean turned back to the gathering of citizens. He could see that Baldwin had indeed heard; he was pale. “Plan to attend a meeting of district leaders sometime this winter. I’ll let you know exactly when, as soon as I’ve finished cleaning up my uncle’s mess.”
The men backed away, nodding and bowing low as Sean and his men rode out of the gates.
The trip back to the camp was a blur. All Sean remembered was that it was already packed up and ready to move. He asking for his map and it felt odd that he couldn’t find his table to spread it out on. He was, of course, still on his horse.
Jenny distracted him by asking what he thought about what the girls were wearing. It took him a minute or more to figure out what girls she was talking about, then he had to ask her to repeat her question.
Eventually, the concept that they were on the march again sank in despite Jenny’s efforts, and he clearly remembered trying to open a gate, though he had no idea where it was supposed to open on the other end. That was probably why the spell went wrong, or at least part of the reason; the other part being that he was half-delirious from exhaustion. The last of the fumes that were keeping his eyes open were finally gone and darkness closed in like a thick blanket.
The Making of a Mage King: White Star Page 13
