by B. J. Beach
Corlin gave a harsh bark of derision. “Hah! If you still had your powers, but you don’t, so Cadomar or Karryl will have to do it.”
It was Corlin’s turn to slump at the table as Cadomar shook his head. “Unless you can provide an image of it, I doubt it will be possible. The two parts of the frame are completely different, not a matching pair as you would expect.”
The moment had arrived for Grumas to redeem himself, in part at least. He held out a brown-spotted and wrinkled hand. “If you can provide materials, I will provide a likeness.” He gave them both a sickly smirk. “I did design it, after all; the frame, that is. He built it.”
Cadomar’s expression was inscrutable as he crossed to the tiny window and peered out into the darkness. Seemingly satisfied with what he could or couldn’t see, he held up both hands at shoulder level, palms upwards. The pane of glass turned milky white and began to swirl slowly like drifting fog. The magician reached out, his hand disappearing briefly into the whiteness, before re-emerging with a sheet of creamy vellum held between finger and thumb. He transferred the sheet to his free hand and reached in again, this time bringing forth a quill pen which he also placed in his other hand. Once more his hand entered the swirling milkiness, remaining within it a little longer this time, before producing a small stone ink-bottle. In one swift movement he placed the materials on the table, before turning and passing his hands over the whiteness within the window-frame. In two seconds it had cleared, the glass restored to its original state of flawed yellowness.
He took one of the lanterns from its hook on the wall, adjusted the flame and placed the lantern on the table. “Do your best, Master Grumas. Corlin and I have something to do.” He gave him a bleak smile. “Needless to say, there will be no point in your trying to leave.”
As Cadomar reached for the door latch, Corlin was unable to resist reaching across the table and checking the tangibility of the materials which the magician had conjured out of the air. They all felt very solid and real. He shook his head, scratched it, and followed Cadomar out into the wet and shadowy keep.
He glanced around, fully expecting the housecarls to appear from some place of concealment, but he could see no sign of them. “Where are we going?”
The magician jerked a thumb towards the East gate. “I am going out there.” He turned and pointed at the troops’ common room. “And you are going in there, as ordered. We cannot risk a hue and cry if you go missing.”
As the corners of Corlin’s mouth dropped, Cadomar gave him a broad wink. “That is not to say that it may not happen later. Now, I must disappear.”
With a wave of his hand, that was literally what he did. Corlin gave a wry smile and wandered into the common room, determined to resume his interrupted conversation with Artheg. To his disappointment, the Tregwald trooper was nowhere to be seen. He ambled over to the group of soldiers playing cards near the warmth of the fire. About to deal a fresh hand, one of them looked up and gave a nod of recognition.
Corlin returned the nod. “Any idea where Artheg is?”
The soldier replied while he dealt cards. “Poor sod was knackered, so we packed him off to a bed in the barracks. ‘E’s prob’ly imitatin’ a log right now.”
A plan began to form in Corlin’s mind, but the click of the door-latch prompted him to drop onto a wooden stool and take a sudden and avid interest in the card game. The door swung open and one of the housecarls stepped inside, rainwater streaming from the broad brim of his cockaded hat. After a cursory glance round, he fixed his gaze on Corlin for a moment or two, nodded as if satisfied, and left again.
One of the soldiers chuckled. “It seems like they want the pleasure of your company a bit longer, minstrel.”
Corlin gave a snort of disgust. “Huh. I wouldn’t mind if they’d fed me and gave me a bed for the night. We were just about to have dinner when Kethyn came in and told the duke about Artheg’s arrival. Now, all of a sudden I’m in his lordship’s army and at a loose end all at the same time!”
The soldier clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah! Well, if you’re one of us then you can have a bed in the barrack block over against the North wall. Go and get your head down. Come daybreak you’ll have so much to do you won’t know which way to turn.”
Corlin thanked him, stood up and headed for the door. He had other plans, and they didn’t involve being part of Duke Alexander’s army.
It was raining steadily, and as he splashed across the puddled keep, Corlin wished he had brought his staff instead of leaving it with Cadomar. As fast as he had made it, the wish changed form and became a plan. Halfway across the keep, Corlin exaggerated his limp, veered left and headed straight for the gaol. To his surprise and relief, the door was neither locked nor warded.
He slipped inside, closed the door and grabbed his staff from against the wall. “Grumas; you helped me in the past, so I’ll appeal to your better nature; that’s if you have one.”
The old man put down his quill and returned Corlin’s gimlet stare. “It’s too late to undo mistakes, but we can change the result of those mistakes. What are you thinking?”
Corlin’s jaw tightened. The old man was shrewd. “What will happen when the clock is assembled?”
Grumas chuckled but there was no humour in the sound. “It will allow the one who assembles it to manipulate both his location and time.” He held up a cautionary finger. “Do not misunderstand. It will happen only for that person, or for anyone who subsequently becomes the owner of the clock and understands it.
Corlin leaned forward and hissed “Why didn’t you tell us that before?”
The old man shook his head and picked up his quill. “The truth was not known to me then. Continued use of the clock eventually turned the maker’s mind and I was forced to take him to a place where he would come to no harm.”
Once again Corlin was overcome with contempt for this scheming magician. “You think packing him off to the Fade-lizards did him any good? They killed him!”
Grumas dipped his quill in the ink and continued to draw. His tone was cold and matter-of-fact. “No. I gave him into the charge of the Grollarts. They took him to the Fellgate. You allowed him to die.”
Corlin protested. “I had no choice!”
The old man looked up from his drawing and poked an accusing finger towards the minstrel. “You did have a choice. The gimalin gave you that choice, but you allowed the Fade-lizards to dissuade you. The clockmaker told you they were sneaky, slippy hidey things. What they did while you slept proved it.”
Corlin’s knuckles showed white as he gripped his staff in an effort to control his fury. “You were there? You could have helped me; you could have helped him, yet you did nothing? You’re unbelievable!”
His impulse to lay about the old man with the heavy end of his staff was thwarted by the door being flung open.
Cadomar stood there, a dark silhouette against the light. His voice low, he beckoned to Corlin. “Quickly now!”
No sooner had the minstrel reached the door than the magician had grasped his arm and Corlin felt the ground slide from under him. Moments later he was swaying against his staff and gasping for breath as he looked back at Castle Tallard’s East wall half a mile distant.
Cadomar chuckled as he reached out to steady him. “I do apologise. It was not as smooth a move as you’re used to but I only had a few seconds in which to act before the stasis spell wore off the housecarls.” He gestured behind Corlin. “Master Karryl has returned with the clock’s workings, all reassembled and ready to be reunited with the frame.”
Corlin turned. From behind the trunk of a massive and ancient oak, a soft glow shone. Minstrel and magician hurried towards it, but Corlin’s haste was prompted only by his need for answers.
49 - A Vital Retrieval
Under the shelter of the oak’s dense and spreading branches, Corlin stared at the object in the Mage Prime’s hands. It shone with an almost ethereal glow, created only in part by the orb of soft golden light which hovered near
the magician’s shoulder.
He reached out and ran a tentative finger over the perfectly square case of skilfully crafted metals. “It doesn’t look like any clock I’ve ever seen. It hasn’t got a face, but I can see two rows of numbers.”
Cadomar folded his hands inside his sleeves. “What did Grumas tell you about it?”
Corlin took the chance to buy some thinking time, peering closely at the unfamiliar object and the numbers engraved in old style script above two equally spaced narrow slots in its front. “Not much. Only that it wasn’t a normal clock, and that using it sent his master off his head.” He stood back and looked at the two magicians in turn. “Anyway, it’s no good to anybody without the frame, but I can’t see what difference that would make. By the look of it all the works are inside that case.”
Karryl turned the object towards the light and pointed to three small round apertures equally spaced across the top. “I believe the frame slots into these. There are four more at the bottom. My guess is that when the frame is fitted, whatever is inside here is set in motion.” He turned it so that the front was facing upwards. “In each of those slots is a small pointer. When the clock is working, it’s likely that they move, or can be moved, along the sets of numbers.”
Corlin reached out and lifted the clock from the magician’s hands. Turning it over and around he studied the metal casing, parts of which appeared to be gold. Bronze and brass made up the rest, the whole meticulously joined together with numerous tiny screws, countersunk into the body. If nothing else, the piece was a work of art.
Impressed, he ran his fingers once more over the polished plates which formed the sides. “Who put it all back together?”
Karryl smiled. “You are indebted to a race that dwells far from here, known as the Grrybhñnös. They have skills and magic powers which are beyond even my understanding.”
The minstrel made to hand it back to Karryl, but the magician shook his head and stood back. “No, Master Bentfoot. For the time being, it is yours. It was the object of your quest, and you have obtained it. We are pleased that we were able to be part of it. All that remains for us now is to tell you the location of the two pieces of the frame. When you’ve recovered those, you can go about the business of getting your brother released.”
Corlin peered round the massive trunk towards the castle. “So what happens now? I can hardly go strolling back in there with this tucked under my arm, can I?”
Karryl grasped Corlin’s shoulder. “When the situation is honourable, then we behave honourably. This, however, is not an honourable situation, so we act accordingly.”
He reached into the air, made a twirling gesture with his fingers and pulled down a plain brown cloth bag. Taking the clock from Corlin, he slipped it into the bag, tied the neck and handed it back to him. It looked just like a small kit bag that perhaps a foot soldier would carry his personal belongings in.
The magician gave a wry smile. “That should keep it from prying eyes. Now, the piece of the frame which you have carried all this time is on the person of one of Duke Alexander’s housecarls.”
Corlin gasped and his blood ran cold. “What do they want it for?”
The minstrel suddenly felt calm and focussed as Karryl held up a hand. “Duke Alexander gave orders for it to be removed from your saddlebags. The housecarl who has it will take it to him when he gives the order, so we must hurry and discover which of those men has it.”
Before Corlin could say anything further, the two magicians each grasped one of his arms. Left unattended, the glowing ball of light sank slowly to the bare earth beneath the oak tree, fading away as the three men materialised in the keep, under the deep shadow of the North wall. Leaving Corlin with the Mage Prime, Cadomar hurried across to the South wing of the castle where the housecarls had their quarters, and slipped inside. Giving Corlin’s sleeve a gentle tug, Karryl stepped out into the light, and with the minstrel in tow, began to walk towards the stables. They were barely halfway there when they were challenged by two housecarls. Karryl slowed his pace, allowing the guards to draw closer until they were no more than two paces away.
Corlin couldn’t have said what happened exactly, but the two men stopped, their expressions frozen on their faces, even the droplets of rainwater from their hat brims hanging motionless in mid-air. Karryl stepped forward and quickly frisked each man, pausing at a suspicious bulge at the left side of the second one’s surcoat.
Slipping his hand inside, he drew out a bundle, flipped open the cloth wrapping and glanced inside, before rewrapping it and handing it to Corlin. “There, that wasn’t too difficult. Let’s hope that retrieving the other part will go equally smoothly.”
Corlin was baffled. “How did you know where to find it, when Grumas is still in the gaol-house, drawing?”
To Corlin’s surprise, the Mage Prime gave him a wink and a mischievous grin. “I cheated. I’ve got quite good at it over the last few years.”
The minstrel murmured “Hmm. I can imagine.” A little louder, he asked “So, where to now?”
Leaving the two housecarls standing in the rain like a pair of statues, Karryl steered Corlin towards the stables. “In here, to do some very serious magic.”
As they slipped through the door, Corlin jerked a thumb back towards the keep. “What about those two?”
Karryl’s upper lip twitched, as if the matter was of no consequence. “They’ll come out of it in a minute or two and carry on as if nothing had happened.”
He strode down the length of the stables and beckoned to Corlin from an empty stall at the far end. The minstrel limped slowly along and, with a deep sigh, sat down heavily on a bale of straw.
With his chin in his cupped hand, he glanced up at Karryl. “D’you know, when I started this quest, I never gave magic a thought. The clock was just a valuable thing that Lord Treevers wanted, and magic...well...I think I only half believed it even existed.” He threw his hands in the air. “Now I’m bloody well surrounded by it! Do you use magic for everything in these parts?”
The Mage Prime leaned on the rear wall of the stable, folded his arms and studied Corlin for a long moment. When he replied it was with a tinge of cynicism. “Life would be much easier, and at the same time more complicated if we did. The truth is, we only resort to using magic when it is absolutely necessary. Prolonged or constant use can be tiring and sometimes exhausting, both mentally and physically. Most magicians will restrict themselves to doing just enough to keep themselves sharp.
“Cadomar only contacted me when he discovered that magic had already been initiated in your quest. Otherwise, it’s likely you would have got on with it without even knowing we existed.”
Corlin frowned, lifted his hat and scratched his head again. He suspected that some Fellgate rock-dust was still hanging around.
After giving the hat a good shake he clapped it back on his head and squinted up at Karryl. “All right. Then what about the Whispering Forest or...or...the Grollarts, and all that other stuff? That was magic and I couldn’t have avoided any of it. Otty will agree with me on that.” His brow furrowed. “Where is Otty, by the way? Is he still at Grollart Mountain?”
Karryl pushed away from the wall, bent down and dragged a straw-bale to one side. “He’s more than likely arrived in Tregwald by now.”
Before the puzzled minstrel could ask what reason Otty would have for being in Tregwald, the magician pointed to the two exposed flagstones. “These remind me of something my old mentor Symon and I did, a few years ago.”
Always keeping an ear open for a good story, Corlin leaned closer. “Oh. What was that then?”
Karryl bent forward and peered closely at the floor. “We saved the world; well, most of it anyway.”
Recent events had brought Corlin to the point where very little surprised him anymore. Karryl’s understated throwaway did nothing to change that.
With remarkable equanimity Corlin nodded. “Well, that’s all right then.”
However, his mental balance did
waver a little when the edge of one of the flagstones that Karryl had revealed began to lift, apparently of its own volition. In moments it, along with a thick layer of clinging dirt, had been transported to the top of the straw bale, while its companion stood upright on its edge, seemingly with nothing supporting it.
Raised voices and the clatter of boots across the keep, brought Corlin to his feet. “Now we’re for it! They’ve found out I’m not where I should be.”
Karryl turned an expressionless gaze on each of the two pairs of stable doors in turn. Timbers creaked and bolts rattled. The commotion outside continued, but the magician ignored it. He looked back at the ground beside his feet, crouched down and held his open hand, palm downwards, over the wide rectangle of dirt. Like a miniature volcano, soil and pebbles flew two feet into the air, the potentially dangerous eruption controlled by subtle movements of Karryl’s hand.
Corlin was not in the mood to appreciate the subtleties of magic. Shouts, thumps and the sound of doors banging, had his attention in a headlock. He wasn’t entirely certain that whatever Karryl had done to the doors would be enough to hold off half a dozen armed and angry housecarls accompanied by a squad of Duke Alexander’s troopers. Despite his trepidation he found it impossible not to watch Karryl. The magician had reached into the hole created by the removal of the soil. His body trembled, and beads of perspiration had broken out on his forehead and trickled down his face. He grimaced, his arm tense and straining as if he was struggling to lift a heavy weight. About six inches below his open and outstretched palm hung a darkly patinated open rectangle of elaborately worked metal. Corlin hurried across the stall and stretched out his hand towards the object.
Karryl snapped “No!” He shook his head, his contorted face bearing a warning of dire consequences. He gasped between words. “It’s...a cruel...warding! You...you couldn’t stand...the pain.”
Settling back on his heels, the magician wiped his face with his sleeve. “I was certain I could break this warding without having to resort to the dubious efficacy of Grumas’ spell, but it seems I must try.”
