by Kris Hiatt
Treace was about to ask him some questions, like how long he’d been in the guard, and if he knew about other men being trained elsewhere, but Liern came rushing over to him.
“Isn’t this great, Treace? This is fun!”
“It is pretty nice,” Treace said. Even though he didn’t feel like it, he smiled anyway; it was hard not to smile at Liern’s excitement.
He sat back and listened to Liern talk for most of the trip, only answering when he needed to, but mostly he was thinking about his friend and the situation he was in. He wished he could have been there for him, even though that was silly, Treace was barely six when that happened. He wished he at least had inquired further when Exodin first mentioned that he used to love someone. Looking back on it, Treace guessed he was just too excited to be learning how to swordfight. He wondered if his age at the time had anything to do with it, and decided that it probably did.
#
If Treace saw Marn again, he would have to thank him, because the ginger root worked; he didn’t throw up, and neither did Liern. He didn’t even feel queasy. A few of the soldiers weren’t so lucky, but nothing as bad as the one boy during Treace’s first voyage to Kilindric.
“Primain, you’re with me,” Liernin said. “Liern, stick with The Wolf. I want a few of you on the ship, and the rest patrolling Kilindric for Shamir’s men. I’m sure he brought some with him, so let’s make sure they aren’t doing anything stupid.”
Even though the meeting wasn’t scheduled until the evening, both barons arrived early, and Shamir was already there. A few of his men watched from the bow of their ship. The antlered head of a stag flew high on the flag of their ship; the emblem of Kadenton’s baron.
“If something happens and you have to choose whether to save him or me,” Liernin said quietly to Treace, indicating Liern. “Save him and leave me. Primain will do his best.”
“It’s only a meeting,” Treace told him.
“Don’t be stupid. Be prepared, or be dead. That’s something my father taught me, and I don’t take unnecessary chances with my family.”
Treace knew the baron didn’t know that the brothers were all on his side, but couldn’t tell him, so he only nodded his head. He looked over his shoulder at the remaining men, and if he had known he would never see some of them again, he might have waved, but instead, he just walked away.
They began their walk through the little town of Kilindric, which Treace knew well, and was glad to be walking on its streets again. He had only been gone a few months, but it had felt like years.
The College was well in view as they walked through town, and as it came closer, Treace remembered what Liernin had said, so he moved Liern behind him, just in case. He prepared himself mentally to be on his guard, although nothing could have prepared him for what was about to happen.
Chapter 22
Drevic hurried down the hall, not wanting to be late to the meeting that Nimbril called. He had assumed it was regarding the meeting with the barons in the coming weeks, but he still didn’t want to be late. He was practicing Path of Fire and had lost track of time. He still wasn’t sure why he was here; he wasn’t a magister yet and he didn’t know if this had anything to do with the information gathering mission that he was allowed to be part of.
He was glad to see that the other magisters on the board, save Brental, who still hadn’t returned from Kadenton, were standing outside. He joined them and they didn’t have to wait long, because Nimbril arrived moments after Drevic did. He carried a large book in front of him and several scrolls under his arms. On the book was a metal mug, which Drevic thought was odd.
“Open the door, quickly! These are getting heavy,” Nimbril said.
Drevic reached for the book, trying to alleviate some of the burden from Nimbril, but the thin old man shrugged him off.
“I’ve got it, just get the door open,” he commanded.
Sentin opened the door to the Meeting Chamber and everyone filed in after the Archmagister. Nimbril leaned far over the table and let the scrolls rattle down onto its surface before heavily setting the book down. The mug must have been full of water, because some of it sloshed over onto the book, which Nimbril quickly wiped off with the sleeve of his robes.
“I won’t keep you long. There are only three things I wish to talk about,” Nimbril said.
Drevic closed the door and moved to sit down.
“Brother Drevic, since you’re standing, the first order of business is to name you magister,” Nimbril said, drawing some curious looks. If Brental were there, Drevic knew the man would surely protest, but the present company only looked unsure, not outraged.
“He can bring forth heat, that’s for certain,” Magister Ferral stated. Ferral was assisting brothers master Path of Fire in Brental’s absence. “Unsure about whether he can do it on command, however.”
“Magister, please,” Nimbril said to Sentin, holding the metal mug out to him. Now Drevic understood its meaning; he was to heat the water as best he could.
“It’s cool,” Sentin said after sticking a finger in the mug.
“Brother,” Nimbril said, placing the mug on the table.
Drevic placed his finger in the water, and it was indeed cool, and fell into The Calm. It was easy to find anger, since it was the first, and strongest, of the emotions to greet you when you entered The Calm, but he knew it was a trick; it welcomed you, begged you to hurry and embrace it, to use it, but then it latched on and wouldn’t let go. It made you expend every ounce of its power until you had nothing left to give. That’s how so many brothers became stone-faced. Drevic was too smart for that, so he stayed in The Calm for a few seconds before slowly, ever so slowly, allowing the fiery energy of his anger into his very being; pulling it to him carefully.
He thought of Brental and how he treated him after Drevic had accidently ran him over, and found the energy to be quite powerful. He concentrated on that, not allowing it to go out of control, and let the energy pass down his arms and into his chest, into his center, where he molded it to his purpose. He then pushed that energy from his center and back down his arms; feeling the heat on his skin as it passed over it, and finally into his finger.
He opened his eyes a short time later and was surprised to see steam coming off the water in the mug. The water wasn’t boiling, but it was surely hot. He had succeeded, and more powerfully than he thought he would.
The other magisters looked on in disbelief; most of them couldn’t begin to change the temperature of the water to such an extent. Nimbril clapped and the rest of them joined him.
“Sentin?” Nimbril said, pointing to the mug.
“I don’t think I need to test it, Archmagister,” Sentin said.
“Do any of you doubt his mastery?” Nimbril asked, surveying the room.
Every head shook from side to side, and Drevic couldn’t quite believe it. He had worked very hard to accomplish it, but he still couldn’t believe he was about to be named a magister. He knew Nimbril had great plans for him. He reminded him many times during their recent interactions.
Drevic had been going to learn with the Archmagister ever since returning from Haven. The old man was indeed powerful in the use of magic; that was clear. His teaching methods varied only little from the way the College currently teaches, but what a difference it made. The students were taught to concentrate on the emotion they wanted to use and allow it to come to them, will it to come to them, but that was ineffective. Nimbril taught him to mentally reach out to the emotion and pretend you were attaching a string to it and pulling it toward you; you had much more control over the emotion that way, and it was more precise. It was very simple, yet overlooked by current instructors.
“The next order of business is to appoint Magister Drevic to the board,” Nimbril said. This time the other magisters in attendance were surprised.
“Whose place is he taking,” Edas asked.
“Brental’s,” Nimbril said, drawing more gasps.
“You are kicking
him out?” Ferral demanded. If Brental had a friend amongst the board, it was Ferral.
“No, not kicking him out, merely placing someone in his place temporarily,” Nimbril told them.
“He will return within the next few weeks,” Kelvrin added.
“Do our rules even allow for that?” Ferral asked.
“They do,” Nimbril said, smiling. “And that’s why I brought forth our Code of the College.”
Nimbril opened the book to a page he already had bookmarked, and began to read.
“In the event a magister of the board is unable to perform the duties required of said board due to absence, illness or any other reason, that magister can be temporarily replaced by the Archmagister until once again able to perform the required duties,” Nimbril said. “It does go on to say that the Archmagister has the right to relieve the member of their position, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“He’ll be back in a few weeks,” Ferral said again.
“Then it will be a very short lived appointment,” Nimbril said.
“Fine,” Ferral said, disgustedly.
“Does anyone refute what I have read?” Nimbril asked.
“Good,” Nimbril said after no one spoke up. “Then it is official, Magister Drevic is now a member of the board.”
“Temporarily,” Ferral said.
“Of course,” Nimbril said. “As I said, a very short lived appointment.”
No one else said anything, which made Nimbril smile even more broadly.
“Now on to my third order of business. I name Drevic the Archmagister of the College.”
“What?” all five magisters in the room asked.
Nimbril raised a finger and opened the book to another page he had bookmarked and began to read again.
“Should the reigning Archmagister decide to willingly vacate the position, he has the option to name his successor, given that his successor is a magister in good standing and part of the Board of Magisters,” Nimbril said, still smiling broadly.
“But he’s a temporary member,” Ferral roared.
“Ferral speaks the truth,” Edas said.
“I have read this cover to cover, many times, and it says nothing requiring a full time member, only that the magister must be on the board,” Nimbril said, bringing his index finger down hard on the book on his first and last sentence, as if to accentuate his point.
“This is outrageous,” Ferral said, sounding much like Brental.
“It is quite out of the ordinary,” Kelvrin said.
“You are exploiting a loophole,” Edas added.
Nimbril opened the book to his third bookmarked section and read.
“The Archmagister of the College enforces all rules of the Code, and uses the Board of Magisters as a council. He, in no way, has to utilize their advice, but is asked to consider it. His word is law, as long as it does not go against any rules set forth by the Code, and should be considered as part of the Code,” Nimbril said, looking them over.
“What does that have to do with this?” Sentin asked. He didn’t seem angry, just confused.
Nimbril opened the book the fourth, and last, bookmarked section, which was at the end of the book, and read again.
“Should a member of the college, from initiate to magister, go against the rules and regulations set forth by the Code, they can be punished to varying degrees, based on severity of the infraction. The council will convene to vote on the proper punishment. In the event an infringement happens that is not spelled out in the Code, the Archmagister will determine the punishment. In any event, the Archmagister has the final say.”
“What are you getting at, Nimbril,” Ferral said.
“I’m saying that if you continue to disagree with me, I’ll have you removed from this College. Drevic will be your next Archmagister. He will assume the position once the meeting with the barons is finished.”
“You’re threatening us now?” Ferral asked.
“I’m telling you the truth, Magister Ferral. If you deem it as a threat, then so be it.”
“The Code says that the council will be convened if the infraction is spelled out, which it is. Insubordination is clearly listed and the punishment is voted on by the council. I hardly think we’ll vote to remove ourselves,” Kelvrin said.
“Insubordination, yes, but the Code does say that the Archmagister has the final say, and I will say this goes beyond insubordination. I say this is the outright prevention of the selection of the next Archmagister. Tampering with due process is also listed, and it calls for immediate dismissal,” Nimbril said.
“The Archmagister is right,” Sentin said, calming the group.
Drevic was glad that at least one of the magisters could see past their own ambitions and find the truth in what Nimbril was saying. He guessed that they were only questioning it so fiercely because he was the one chosen while they were not. They were arguing more about the selection than the right for the Archmagister to make one.
“What he’s doing is within the Code,” Edas said after sighing first.
“I wouldn’t think of breaking it,” Nimbril said.
“No, but you’re pushing its boundaries,” Ferral said.
“Are you upset over whether or not the Archmagister has the right to do what he did, or upset over his selection?” Drevic asked, wanting to put an end to this.
“You’re a fine member, and very powerful in using magic, but…” Kelvrin said, leaving the rest open for interpretation. Drevic didn’t need to interpret, he knew.
“Ferral?” Drevic asked, wanting his thoughts.
“Like Kelvrin said, you’re a very capable magic user.”
“So my level of ability is not in question?” Drevic asked them.
“No, Drevic, you are one of our strongest,” Sentin said.
Drevic knew that the other four magisters knew better; they knew he was the strongest, second only to Nimbril. In their discussions about his healing of the merchant, all the magisters didn’t believe the level to which Drevic described his healing power. After he heated the mug to near boiling in front of them, they couldn’t doubt his command or control. He didn’t think any of them could have heated it so well.
“So then my abilities aren’t in question, and the Archmagister has not broken the rules, so then why the dissention?” Drevic asked, wanting them to admit the real reason it bothered them.
“You’re upset because you were passed over, and you feel slighted,” Drevic said after no one responded.
“He’s right,” Edas said. “We shouldn’t let our ambitions blind us to the truth. Drevic was chosen, not us. Whether or not we agree with it doesn’t matter.”
“Sorry Brother, uh, Magister Drevic, it’s just so sudden and unexpected, that’s all,” Sentin said.
“You’re a fine choice,” Kelvrin said, a smile, probably forced Drevic thought, was on his face.
Ferral didn’t say anything, which he took as a positive thing. The older magister might not have agreed with the other three, but neither did he disagree.
“I’m glad my subordinates agree with my decision,” Nimbril said, still testy. The others looked down.
“Drevic, a man from Baron Liernin’s forces, Drokier, one of his top leaders, will be here in a few days to ensure the safety of our building. When he arrives, please escort him,” Nimbril said when no one said anything further about his selection.
“Of course, sir,” Drevic said.
“And, I shouldn’t need to remind you of this, however, Brother Treace will be accompanying Liernin here, but the baron does not know that he is a member of our order. Get word to your students that he is not allowed to be talked to and that they cannot let on that they know him,” Nimbril said.
Heads nodded, except Ferral’s, but Drevic was too busy looking at the Archmagister to notice.
#
“Do you think it will work?” Baros asked him.
“I hope so,” Drevic replied.
“I wouldn’t have thou
ght Brental would be so adept at diplomacy, but look at him, he looks as happy as a pig in shit,” Baros said, chuckling.
Drevic could only shake his head. He agreed fully with Baros in his assessment, and his implication, but the younger brother would never find his way on the council until he could find a way to put a leash on that tongue of his. They were standing on the second story, leaning on the railing overlooking the courtyard where Shamir and his small contingent were talking with Drokier and Brental.
“He’s been with Shamir’s forces all morning,” Baros added.
“He spent most of the last four months around them,” Drevic said.
“True.”
It was true. Brental had returned a few days before Shamir had arrived, and while everyone was waiting for Brental to explode upon hearing the news, he merely went red and griped about the decision. Drevic was quite impressed the man held his composure regarding the situation; he was thinking the man would rant and rave about it until he nearly had a heart attack. Instead, he complained for a while, then simply walked away like it didn’t matter.
“Isn’t that Drokier? The one that Treace beat?” Baros asked, pointing to Drokier in the crowd below them. Drokier had arrived earlier than the rest of Liernin’s forces and had been in many conversations with some of Shamir’s people. Apparently the older veteran was making sure they weren’t going to attack Liernin. Drevic applauded him for his diligence.
“Yes.”
“Who’s that guy?” Baros asked, pointing to a massive man with an equally massive sword strapped to his back.
“That’s Disdane, one of Shamir’s commanders.”
Drevic thought the man’s parents must have been able to see the future, because their son surely lived up to his name; he held nearly everyone and everything around him in contempt. His keen eye never stopped moving and he never strayed far from Shamir’s side. The farthest away he had gotten was twenty or thirty paces when talking with Drokier on a few occasions.
“He’s absolutely huge,” Baros said.
“They’re here,” a younger brother said as he rushed up to them, indicating Liernin and his men.
