The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Theus switched his hands to her left foot and began massaging once more. It was the final time he’d have to carry out the odious task, he was relieved to remember.

  “Thank you for the coins you sent, my lady,” he remembered to tell her. “I bought a great many items that will heal the people who are suffering. It’s thanks to your generosity,” he told her.

  “You earned the payment after all,” she said graciously. “I’ll expect to see you come running any time I have something to treat,” she predicted.

  “Just ask Letta in the kitchen. She’s my supervisor. She arranged for me to attend your needs,” Theus wanted to make sure Letta got the credit she deserved. He knew that somehow, his work for Citrice was a matter of palace politics for Letta in her struggle with Colandra.

  “It’s been a pleasure to serve you,” he decided he’d done enough of the foot massage, and he stood up. “I hope you enjoy your dancing tonight, my lady,” he bowed as formally as he could, then headed away from Citrice, and quickly out of the bedroom.

  Minutes later, he re-entered the kitchen. His eyes probed the corridors and work stations, until he spotted Torella, standing next to Ruunce, who was awkwardly passing trays of baked goods to the ovens. Torella’s eyes made momentary contact with his. She gave a very slight negative shake of her head, then averted her eyes away from him.

  He gave a sigh, and slumped back to the back of the kitchen, where his counter space held the prodigious stores of supplies he had collected to mix the remedies needed by the patients in the hospice. He had nearly a dozen patients he expected to help, and the items and ingredients needed to make the spectrum of treatments was randomly piled together. He busied himself in the task of sorting the materials, and found that he reached mid-afternoon with unexpected speed, as he became lost in the work.

  “Theus?” a voice behind him made his head jerk up in surprise by breaking his focus. He turned, and saw that Torella was standing there, watching him.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said. “Ruune is on an errand, so I have a minute to talk.

  “He came to my room to surprise me by showing me how healthy he was getting, and he found you in my bed. It was such a shock to him, you know,” she told Theus. “But I’ve talked to him and explained to him that you and I are just friends, that we haven’t been improper, and he’s calmed down now,” she continued.

  “But I hope you understand, I won’t be able to do things with you anymore, for a while at least,” she stood nervously, not making eye contact at that moment as she fidgeted nervously with her apron. “But maybe in a while, when he knows how much I care for him, he’ll be more relaxed.”

  “I hope so,” Theus told her sincerely, even though a small part of him felt a tiny shred of jealousy that she was throwing him aside so easily to spend her time with Ruune. “I know you have to do this,” he tried to sound understanding.

  “I’ll miss you!” Torella said. Her eyes rose again to look at his. “You’re so special. I wish things were different. It’s confusing,” she confessed. “But Ruune needs me now, and he’ll be back soon, so I better go. Good bye, Theus,” her voice was wistful as she spoke the last words, then she turned and walked rapidly away.

  Perhaps he would be able to speak to her during stolen moments when Ruune wasn’t around, to keep their friendship alive, he thought, as he stood leaning idly against the counter, replaying the conversation in his mind.

  It all wasn’t going to really matter though, he reminded himself. He was going to escape from the palace within a few days, and he would never see Torella again. He’d think of her, perhaps. But he would be on his way back north to Great Forks, to reconnect with Coriae and his life in the great northern metropolis.

  He resumed his attention to his remedies, and began mixing materials together, measuring and sorting and mashing and squeezing according to the dictates of the stored memories in his brain. He worked at length and completed a pair of remedies, then saw that the evening hours were arriving. The vast amounts of food that the kitchen staff had worked on throughout the day began to depart from the kitchen in droves. It was probably the very ball that Lady Citrice had told him about, he realized.

  The bakers had been under pressure to produce the countless cakes and other goods that Letta had brought Weese and Ruune back into the fold to handle. They appear to have succeeded, Theus judged. Numerous baked goods were piled on racks around the kitchen, awaiting delivery to the diners they were destined for, Theus thought.

  He finished one potential remedy after another, completing the combinations of each, then setting them aside. He had made up his mind while he stood and focused on the preparations; he was going to leave the palace the following day. He would have all the remedies prepared before he went to bed. The next day, after he worked out with the officers in the armory, he would treat each of the hospice patients he was prepared for.

  Then he’d say that he needed to buy more supplies, and he’d walk out of the palace. And he would keep walking. He wouldn’t try to sail away, he decided. He’d simply set his path north and go as far as he needed to. He’d already walked across the continent from east to west, from the Jewel Hills to Great Forks, so going from south to north would be no great challenge.

  He continued to work away at the remedies, and piled them up, one after another, as the evening arrived and passed. He went and acquired a pair of candles to use as the rest of the kitchen staff finished their chores, and finally, hours later, after the dishwashers were finished and gone, he ended his activities. He had the line of jars of ointments and syrups and powders ready to deliver. And he even had a few items left over that were edible – he would be able to pack a couple of skimpy meals of travel food to take with him to start his journey. He’d figure out the rest of his arrangements as he went. He might go hungry, but he wouldn’t be in the clutches of Donal, with all the unknown horror implied by such a situation.

  Chapter 11

  Theus had trouble falling asleep that night, as he thought of Torella, sleeping in the room next door, just a thin wall preventing them from talking to one another as friends and confidantes.

  He did fall asleep, to troubled dreams of Donal and Ruune and Coriae, but he awoke late to sunshine coming through his window. He hurriedly cleaned and rushed to the kitchen, to pick up the breakfasts that were overdue for delivery to the officers at the armory.

  When he arrived at the armory, the officers and soldiers were busy packing and moving and storing their supplies and materials.

  “This is our last day, Theus,” Montuse told him as he set up the breakfast plates. “We’ll all be boarding ships and leaving on the invasion tomorrow morning. It’s not too late for you to become a lieutenant and join us!” he laughed.

  “Will the magician be going on the invasion trip?” Theus asked earnestly, willing to consider a career in the army as a way to begin his escape from the palace. He could sail away from the magician, and then follow an unplanned path from there.

  “I’m afraid so, but he’s necessary,” Montuse answered, as they selected practice swords from the wall. “He has the power to stop the Steep Rise defenses from destroying our fleet when we sail into the city’s harbor.”

  “I’ll wait here for you to return from the war then, thank you,” Theus politely declined the suggestion.

  The pair began their evenly-matched contest, and then Theus had a second match, before the officers became too busy to fence any longer.

  “Theus, when we return, we’ll be able to beat you, you know,” Alamice promised. The men in uniform all shook his hand or slapped his back in friendship, and then he left the armory and started on his way back to the North Hall. He quickly showered, then returned to the kitchen to pick up the cures and remedies that were prepared and waiting to be administered at the hospice.

  When he got to the kitchen, there was only one servant at work in the vast work space, Ruune. Theus sighed, but walked rapidly back to his counter space, and started gat
hering up the jars that were bound for the hospice.

  “I want to talk to you,” Ruune’s voice interrupted his work, and he saw the healed burn victim come striding back through the aisle way to confront him.

  “Torella tells me that you did not ever touch her with evil intent,” the man said as he walked up to the wary Theus. “So, I believe her. And thank you for healing me. Your work is truly great,” Ruune said, giving Theus a reason to relax and exhale.

  “But she is my betrothed, and she should never be so close to another man. I want the two of you to stop all of your things you do together. I’ve already told her, and now I tell you,” Ruune added a heavy note to the seeming apology that Theus thought he was delivering.

  “I’m not going to hurt her, or you through her,” Theus said. “But if Letta tells me to deliver something with Torella, I will, or if I see that the girl needs help, I’ll give it.” He didn’t need to argue, he told himself. He was planning on leaving the palace within a day’s time, so there was no reason to argue. But he didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by someone who had no right to impose foolish restrictions upon him.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to the hospice to cure other people who need my help, and will be grateful to receive it, I’m sure,” Theus unnecessarily needled Ruune as he gathered his jars of remedies together and then stepped past the hulking man and on his way out of the kitchen.

  He walked to the hospice. Rain started to fall as he crossed the open pavement between the two buildings, and he was moderately soaked by the time he entered the hospice and walked into the left wing of the building, where Weese had formerly resided.

  After that, he began working with each of the patients who he had prepared cures for. He had selected those for whom he knew he could produce a remedy to improve their condition. For some of the patients, he hadn’t known any cure, while for others, he had known that the remedies he remembered were too expensive, or relied on rare elements that were most likely unavailable.

  But for those that he felt he could treat and had treatments prepared for, he worked his way among the patient beds, slowly giving them their key to a return to life outside the hospice. Many of the patients required ointments to be massaged into their bodies, while others only needed to swallow a jar of potion. For most of the patients, there was a need for a follow-up treatment, and he spend time explaining the treatment to them. He didn’t want his future absence to be the reason that the healing failed, and he planned to be absent when the further treatments were required.

  By the time he was finished, the sky had grown dark. He felt exhausted. He decided to head straight back to North Hall for his last night’s sleep on the palace grounds. In the morning, when the people in the kitchen would assume he was at the armory, he would simply walk out through the front gate of the palace and depart from his brief time as a slave.

  The plan made sense to him, and he was mostly full of satisfaction as he walked through the dark palace grounds. He had found some valuable experiences during his time in Southsand. He had learned that he could rely on the healing memories to accurately and reliably treat any number of medical needs. He had learned that his sword skills matched up well against even the leaders of the palace guard, some of the best wielders of weapons. And he had learned that he could find friends in the most unexpected places, even among the slaves of a hostile palace. They were all valuable lessons.

  When he reached the residence hall, he climbed the stairs, and discovered that there were the dim shadows of other people in his hallway. He ventured towards his door, and noticed that the shadows stood very nearby. He slowed down in his approach, but then became aware that there were others in the hallway, approaching him from behind. His discomfort began to rise to alarm, and he stopped in his tracks.

  “Keep moving slave boy. Our people are waiting for you,” a voice hissed from the hallwalkers behind him.

  “Who are you?” Theus asked. He wished once again that he carried a weapon, anything that might allow him to defend himself.

  “Donal sent us to fetch you,” the man behind him spoke softly, now very nearby as he continued to approach.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t belong to Donal. I work for the kitchen. You can come there to see me tomorrow,” he tried desperately to bluff his way out of the situation. He began to edge down the hall, trying to keep his distance from the approaching speaker.

  “We can take you now, or we can take the girl now, and then take you in the morning,” the man threatened.

  There was a sudden light at the end of the hallway, making Theus whirl around to look.

  The light was a magical ball that floated in the air, illuminating the scene near his room. He saw two men in dark clothes. One held a struggling Torella in his arms, while the other stood over the recumbent body of Ruune, lying on the floor of the hall.

  “Leave them alone!” Theu shouted. “They haven’t done anything.

  “Leave them alone,” he repeated.

  “Will you cooperate?” the man behind him asked. They were all getting very close to one another, as the men down the hallway closed in on Theus, and Theus inched towards the men who held the captives.

  He heard Torella try to say something, her words muffled by the gag tied around her mouth.

  “Let her go,” Theus tried to assert some control. He couldn’t believe that he had come so close to his plan to escape, only to run into trouble in the last hours. And he didn’t want to see Torella harmed for any reason.

  “Why are you taking her? Leave her alone,” he repeated.

  They all were only feet apart. He didn’t have much more room to give, before he would find himself in the arms of one group of assailants or the other. He stared at the men holding Torella, and saw that their only weapons were knives that were on their belts. The same held true for the men who were stalking him from behind, he saw as well.

  “We’ll let her loose if you agree to come peacefully with us,” the speaker offered.

  “Where will you take me?” Theus asked. He was still trying to calculate the chance that he could defeat the men holding Torella, then turn and fight the others. The odds seemed slim.

  The globe of light suddenly turned bloody red for a long second, then returned to its whitish cast.

  It was a reminder that the men he faced wielded more than just blades as weapons. Theus thought of the scene in the restaurant, when Donal and his helpers had touched people, and inflicted pain upon them.

  “Let her go, and promise not to bother her anymore,” Theus said. “Then I’ll agree to come with you.”

  The man who was speaking nodded his head, and the man holding Torella released her. She shot forward to Theus and wrapped him in a tight embrace, crying, as his hands stroked the back of her head, then pulled the gag down off her face.

  “Oh Theus, don’t let them take you,” she cried.

  “Is Ruune okay?” he asked her.

  “The boy is just unconscious,” answered the man who had held Torella. “He was of no value to us. We just needed the girl to help us capture you.”

  “Theus,” Torella whispered. He heard her, and he felt her. Her body was pressed tightly against his.

  “I have to go,” he told her. “You take care of Ruune, and he’ll take care of you.”

  The man who had held the girl stepped forward, as the man behind them reached forward to firmly grasp Theus’s arm.

  The two friends separated. Torella looked down at Ruune, then up at Theus, then she threw herself down on the floor atop her betrothed, looking up at Theus as she did.

  “Let’s go now,” the man who held Theus spoke, and they began to walk down the hall, the glowing light following them, Torella’s sobs growing more distant as they walked.

  “Why are you taking me?” Theus asked, shock starting to set in, replacing the adrenaline that had prepared him to fight in the hallway.

  “The great Donal himself wishes to know you better. It’
s quite an accomplishment for a slave to gain such attention,” said the man leading him down the stairs.

  “I don’t understand,” Theus tried to protest.

  “Nor do I, nor do either of us need to try. Donal always knows what he’s doing,” the man said. They exited the hall and began to walk back to the palace.

  Chapter 12

  Theus spent the night in a stone-walled room in Donal’s tower. He never saw the magician himself, or anyone other than his captors, and he spent the night curled up shivering in his cell, fearful of whatever was going to come next. At least Torella had not been harmed, he tried to comfort himself with the thought, but it was only a small comfort.

  He took more comfort in the fact that Donal would have to leave soon to join the invasion force. Whatever he wanted to do with Theus, there was little time for it. Theus was likely to have a long period of captivity in the tower while the magician was gone, and in that time perhaps he could devise a means of escape.

  When he awoke, he stood up and began to pace the short distance between the walls, desperate to find a way to avoid seeing the magician. But after only five minutes of pacing in the darkness, he heard his cell door open, and a light appeared.

  “Come with us,” said the voice of an unseen man behind the torch that wavered in the doorway.

  Theus reluctantly complied, and found a pair of men standing in the hallway, waiting for him. They led him up a set of stairs to a brightly lit hallway, where a window showed that it was daylight outside. They went up another set of stairs, and then another, to arrive in front of an ornate set of double doors – wooden, and encrusted with jewels and gold. The doors opened themselves silently.

  “Go in. The master awaits you,” one of the men tonelessly instructed Theus. He gave the boy a shove in the back to propel him forward.

  Theus accepted the inarguable, and stepped forward into a spacious room. It was round, with windows on three sides, looking out at a clear blue sky. The furnishings were exquisite, though Theus paid little attention to them. His focus was on the people on the room. Donal stood, wearing a red and black gown, on the far side of the room, while a half dozen people sat or stood in places scattered about the room. Each of the six were chained in place.