The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  He went back to his counter space, and took the time to finish mixing the ingredients together for the rest of the third dose of the burn treatment, so that it would be easily applied on the following day. When that was done, he helped himself to a plate of food for his dinner, then began wandering through the darkening palace grounds to find the north hall, where he finally stumbled up the stairs in the dim light and returned to his own room.

  He was proud to have finally found his way somewhere on his own, he thought to himself as he sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes. He pulled back the sheet, and laid down, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself after the horrors of the day.

  His door creaked open, and his eyes flew open in fear, as a candle entered through the opening, momentarily blinding him. He sat up in agitation.

  “Theus?” Torella’s voice whispered. He saw her white gown as she entered the room, lit by the candle she was carrying.

  “Theus, I can’t sleep. I can’t stand to be alone. I keep thinking about that tower,” her voice trailed off as she approached him.

  He patted the mattress next to himself where he sat on the edge of his narrow bed, and the girl immediately took a seat, their hips pressed warmly against one another.

  “Don’t take this wrong, I know you won’t – you’ve been so good,” Torella said. “But, can I sleep in here tonight? It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”

  “I understand,” he answered. He knew what she meant, and he felt his own comfort in sharing the dark night with another person close by.

  “I’ll go get my pillow and be right back,” she popped up to her feet and disappeared through the door, only to return seconds later. She surprised him then by placing her pillow down at the end of the bed where his feet rested.

  “You sleep with your head up there, and I’ll put mine down here. It’ll make it easier to share the bed, and less, confusing,” she said.

  Theus felt confused and relieved, as she put her suggestion into practice, laying down in the opposite direction from him. He did the same as she demonstrated, and found that the short girl’s feet reached only to his chest. He experimentally reached a hand out to stroke her calf down to her ankle, making her giggle and kick.

  “That tickles!” she exclaimed.

  “We’ll see how this works,” he said aloud. “Good night, Torella,” he added.

  Her hands rubbed his legs with gentle strokes. “Thank you Theus, good night,” she said. And comforted by the presence of one another in the darkness, they both fell asleep.

  When they awoke the next morning, Torella’s movements to climb over Theus awoke him. The window was starting to show the signs of dawn. Torella reached the open room, then bent down and lightly kissed the top of Theus’s head.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Thank you too,” he murmured in reply.

  “So today is the day you’ll give Ruune the final treatment, and he’ll get better, right?” she spoke in a soft tone.

  “I’ll give him the final treatment today,” Theus agreed. “And we’ll just have to wait to see how much better he gets. I’m sure there will be some improvement.”

  “I hope it’s a lot,” she sighed. “I’m going to clean up now.

  “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” she asked after a further moment of standing beside the bed. “We know it was nothing, but it might sound different to other people.”

  “I understand,” Theus answered. “I won’t mention it.” Even slaves want to keep their dignity and reputation, he thought, and they should be able to.

  He cleaned and dressed a few minutes later, then circuitously found his way to the kitchen, where Torella was already engaged in helping the bakers. Theus hovered around, unsure of what to do to help, then eventually was asked to help push a cart of loaves of bread that were delivered to the army barracks on the far side of the palace grounds.

  When he and the others returned from the delivery, Letta was waiting for him.

  “you’ll go with Kurfa today to the market,” she indicated a middle-aged man. “He’s got the funds I gave him, and he’ll take you to any market that has the things you need. Don’t spend all my money if you don’t have to!” she warned with a mock-serious expression.

  “What’s your name again?” Kurfa asked as the pair started to weave through the palace towards the gates.

  “I’m Theus,” the boy carrying the large canvas bag replied.

  “I’ve heard about you,” Kurfa responded. “That makes sense.”

  “What does?” Theus asked.

  Kurfa looked at him sideways as they exited the gate. “You’re Letta’s pet. She lets you go out and about the city with no collar, even though you’re brand new.”

  “She can trust me; she knows that,” Theus said stoutly. “You can too.”

  “I hope so,” the man said amiably.

  The pair went to the largest market in the city first, where Theus bought a number of items, then they traveled about the city to other markets and shops, to finally collect all the last items required. They returned to the palace by mid-afternoon, carrying Theus’s bag and an additional sack as well.

  “You know, Molly bought me lunch when she took me out shopping,” Theus ribbed Kurfa.

  “And look at the mess she got into because she did,” the older man replied amiably. “We all heard about you and your fight with the entire crew of sailors from the king’s flagship.”

  “I would have let you fight half of them if it had happened again,” Theus offered, making Kurfa grin as they entered the gates through the imposing stone walls and returned to the palace grounds.

  They both ate left overs in the kitchen, then Kurfa left to return to other duties, while Theus went to his counter and dropped the bags of goods off. He picked up the medicine needed for the burn victims, then fumbled his way through the palace and managed to find his way to the hospice.

  He went to treat Weese first. “This is the last time I’ll bother you with this,” Theus told the man; his patient winced as Theus rubbed the ointment upon his scarred chest.

  “I hope we see some good from this,” the man said.

  “I do too, and so does Letta,” Theus answered as he focused on spreading the treatment evenly across the man’s burns. “She was particularly interested in giving you this treatment as early as possible,” he reminded his patient.

  “She’s a good woman,” Weese agreed placidly.

  After he left Weese, Theus crossed the building to where the desolated Ruune lay in bed. Perhaps the man could hear him, Theus told himself, and so some explanation of what was happening might be in order, instead of the silent workmanship he had carried out previously on Torella’s betrothed.

  He suffered a momentary pang of guilt at the thought of Torella. The two had been chaste and proper when they had shared his bed the night before, but the very phrase “shared a bed” conjured up guilt and betrayal. Torella was no Coriae, not the exotic great beauty, or the fiery, passionate personality, or the complex individual he was in love with – but in a matter of just days she had found a soft spot in his heart.

  “I’m here for your third treatment,” he said loudly when he stood by the bed of the sightless, speechless fire victim. “Letta wants me to try to help treat your wounds. This ointment should do some good for you. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next few days, to watch for improvement. Of course, you’ll know it sooner than we do.

  “This is an old formula that I learned from an ancient master healer,” Theus said as he applied the lotion. “I’m using it with Weese too, so the two of you can compare notes on how the healing goes, I hope.

  “You may not notice anything changing for a day or a few. Just be patient while your body absorbs all of this; we’re trying to do a lot to you,” Theus finished applying the medication.

  “I’ll come visit you tomorrow. I want to see how you’re doing. And I like getting out of the kitchen too,” he laughed gently.

  “
You take care,” Theus patted the man’s shoulder gently. He looked at Ruune closely, wishing for, but not finding, any clear signs of healing, then he walked away and returned to the kitchen.

  Chapter 8

  Theus helped wash dishes that night, then returned to his room in North Hall and laid on his bed in the growing darkness. He wanted to be free. But to a lesser degree, he also wanted to see how his healing potions would perform in helping the victims of the terrible kitchen fire; if he could bring a notable measure of relief to the men who laid in the hospice beds, he’d almost feel that his brief stint as a slave was a small price to pay. He was finding the prospect of healing people to be even more alluring than returning to the memory stone trade. Although he had shone in Falstaff’s service, he hadn’t been as impactful on individuals as he was proving to be as a healer.

  But the thought of Falstaff made him think of memory stones, and he suddenly wished that he had one. He wanted to preserve the memories of his time in the Southsand palace, all except the most terrifying moments of the visit to magician Donal’s lair. That was a horror he didn’t want to try to remember, or to inflict on anyone else.

  He would be free sooner or later, he was sure, and he hoped he could get his hands on a memory stone to record his impressions of the life in the palace. He would have to get out and around the palace to a greater degree, so that he saw more and knew more and could record more, he told himself sleepily, just before he fell asleep.

  The next morning Torella awoke him again.

  “Theus, get out of bed! Let’s start the day,” she said as she shook his shoulder.

  “What are you doing in my room?” he asked grumpily.

  “I’m making sure you get up; you don’t want to be late. And besides, it’s not like I haven’t been here before,” she said cheerily.

  Theus flung his covers back dramatically, and sat up. “Fine,” he gave a single word response. “I’m up now. Go out and I’ll meet you in a minute after I clean up.”

  Torella studied him shrewdly. “I’ll wait five minutes,” she warned, then she turned and opened the door to step out into the hall.

  “Torella, that’s not your room,” a voice called. Theus looked through the open door, and saw multiple sets of shadows, as another candle, held by another person, moved in the hall. “Who’s in there?” the voice asked, and then the candle and a profile behind it appeared in his doorway.

  “Is that Theus?” the voice asked.

  “I just went in to wake him up, Molly,” Torella answered shortly. “He needs to get going to work; I thought he could walk me to the kitchen.”

  Molly entered Theus’s room, where he sat in stupefied confusion, uncertain why his morning routine needed to be a public spectacle.

  “Is Torella bothering you?” Molly asked.

  “She’s just being friendly,” he replied. “I’m ready to go clean up, if nobody minds,” he said, feeling slightly annoyed by the traffic in his room. He stood up and walked into the hall. “May I borrow your candle?” he asked Torella, taking it from her with an assumption she would not object, and he climbed up the stairs to the wash room for men. Five minutes later he returned, and found Torella waiting for him in his darkened room.

  “Turn around and don’t look,” he ordered as he prepared to put on clean clothes.

  “Of all the luck,” Torella complained. “Molly is going to tell everyone she saw me come out of your room,” the girl vented to Theus as he pulled his shirt on.

  “Here’s your candle back; I’m done, we can go now,” he told her. “And what can she say? We both know you just woke me up; I’ll tell everyone who will listen,” Theus assured the girl, brushing the topic aside.

  “It isn’t that easy,” she said. “I know someone’s going to make trouble over this.”

  “They’ll have to reckon with answering to me if they do,” he still dismissed her concerns. The pair left the floor, and building, and walked back to the kitchen to begin the day.

  “Theus! You’re in demand!” Paire, the head of the morning bakers called upon his entrance into the kitchen. “The armory wants to know why you didn’t deliver their breakfasts yesterday.”

  A memory exploded into his consciousness. “Tory, we’re supposed to deliver the breakfasts to the armory officers every morning,” he exclaimed to his companion.

  “Who says that?” she asked dubiously.

  “Letta told me, because the officers sent a note requesting us,” he answered.

  “Because of what you did with the sword?” she asked him in a confidential tone.

  “I don’t doubt it,” he admitted.

  “We’ve got your load ready to go; now get moving,” Paire indicated a platter full of covered plates, sitting on the counter waiting to be carried away.

  Theus raised the full platter, and Torella proceeded to lead him through the palace once again. Minutes later they were back in the area of the armory, amidst the familiar atmosphere that Theus recognized.

  “How can anybody even eat when it smells so bad?” Torella asked in a low voice as she held a wide door open for him.

  “You get used to it,” Theus assured her as he passed through the doorway with the platter held high over his head, as he had seen waiters do at some of the fancy restaurants in Great Forks.

  “There’s our wayward slave warrior!” a voice called. After a moment’s blank thought, Theus recognized that the voice was Montuse, the officer he had fought two morning earlier.

  “We’re ready for you, slave. And since you cheated us yesterday by not appearing, we have a double dose ready for you!” the man spoke loudly. His voice extended through the nearly empty armory. There were more men present than Theus had seen on his last visit, but not enough to fill even a quarter of the space.

  “Put the plates down, and pick up a weapon,” Alamice spoke up, the other officer whose name Theus had learned. “We’re ready and waiting to see which of us can demonstrate that we’re better than Montuse.”

  They were joking, Theus was sure.

  Theus reached a long serving table, and lowered the platter, while Torella removed the plates one by one and placed them on the table.

  “Will there be anything else, my lord?” the girl gave a slight curtsey to the nearest officer.

  “You’re not ready to leave, are you? Aren’t you going to stay and watch your boyfriend demonstrate his mastery of the noble weapon again?” the man asked.

  The officers might be serious about further fencing with the slave after all, Theus belatedly realized. He felt his face grow flushed at the thought that he was about to resume fencing once again – the flush was both embarrassment and pleasure.

  “Truly, my lords?” he asked.

  “Look at the boy! He wants to handle the sword – he’s a warrior, not a slave. I say we recruit him and put him in Alamice’s battalion for the games,” one of the others suggested.

  “What’s your name again?” the man asked.

  “I’m Theus, my lord,” he replied.

  “Little lady, you just go lean against the wall and wait a bit, so that you can walk your lover back to the kitchen after our little exercise,” the man gestured to Torella.

  “We’re not lovers, my lord,” Theus defended his friend in a low voice.

  “So you say. It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re wasting time in a busy day. Grab your sword,” one of the others standing nearby said as he picked up a plate of food.

  Theus and Alamice each walked to the rack of practice swords and selected weapons.

  “That’s right, I’m your opponent this time,” the man grinned at Theus. “And I won’t start out taking you lightly, like Monty did.”

  “Good luck, Theus!” Torella seemed emboldened by the jovial character the officers showed, as she encouraged Theus.

  He grinned at her as he took his position on the practice mat, while one of the officers came over to act as the judge for the match.

  He called ‘go’ and the two contestants
stepped towards one another. Theus was still coming to terms with the fact that he was fencing once again; it was a startling departure from what he had expected the day to hold, and he found that adrenaline was pumping through him as the reality of the chance to compete was overwhelming him.

  He jumped forward and launched an aggressive attack, but Alamice successfully defended, and forced Theus to abruptly back up as the officer’s riposte nearly scored a point against Theus.

  After that, Theus calmed down, and the two men fenced back and forth steadily for several grueling minutes, neither one of them scoring a point in the match.

  At last the judge called a halt. “Enough,” he shouted as he stepped forward onto the competition mat. “We’ve all got places to go and things to do. It’s a draw.”

  Theus nodded his acceptance, and so did Alamice. Both were drenched in sweat from their labors.

  The officers said kind words to Theus while good-naturedly belittling Alamice. “And you’ll be back tomorrow, right?” one of them confirmed.

  “We will, my lord,” Theus agreed. He picked up the empty platter, then he and Torella turned and left the armory.

  “They really like you!” Torella told Theus. “They were watching and talking about you during that match. They think you’re good.”

  “I am,” Theus said without false modesty. “I had a good teacher and a good sparring partner.”

  “Theus, you stink,” Torella commented.

  “No, I’m really pretty good,” he protested. “I nearly won the Great Forks tournament a few weeks ago.” It had been that recently, he comprehended with wonder.

  “I mean you worked up a sweat and you smell,” Torella laughed.

  “I’ll just stay back in my corner of the kitchen and stay away from everyone today,” Theus shrugged.

  “Including me,” she told him as she demonstrably held her nose. “But you can’t do that. We have to go check on Ruune today, to see how his healing is progressing.”