Heartened by his rediscovered sense of justice, Kevon fetched something to eat, and began bantering in earnest with Pholos. Pretending eagerness to begin studies, he tried to dig subtly for clues about connections between the two Master Wizards, and anything else that would give him more information or an edge in the coming battle.
Kevon inquired what the schedule was like, a typical day in the life of a student Journeyman. He was somewhat disappointed to learn that Mirsa, Gurlin’s top student, was housed in a distant part of the tower’s structure. All of her training was now private, and she rarely consorted with the others.
Kevon had hoped to catch them all together, killing Gurlin first, and then the best-trained student next, while he still had the element of surprise. He figured panicked Journeymen of lesser abilities would be easy enough to deal with as needed. In close quarters his knife would be both deadly offense and effective magical defense. As long as Gurlin is the first to go, Kevon thought somberly.
Pholos chattered on amiably whenever travel slowed or they stopped to rest and water the horses. Kevon made mental notes and reformulated attack strategies at least a dozen times before they even stopped for the evening. After a light meal and even more talk, Kevon decided that no amount of planning would take all of the possibilities into account. As long as Gurlin was the first to fall, Kevon hoped he would be able to figure out what to do as events unfolded.
The travelers sat talking over a small fire until late in the evening. Waine did not tell a single story, and responded to direct questions with one and two word answers. As full dark neared, the Seeker excused himself, grabbed some gear, and headed out into the night. Shortly thereafter, Kevon once again Aided Pholos in Summoning an imp and binding it. After the imp calmed, the Mages conversed quietly until the creature panicked at Waine’s return.
Waine stalked into camp, spat contemptuously on the tethered imp, and lay down to sleep in his already arranged blanket.
Kevon and Pholos both laughed at the imp’s puzzled silence briefly before following Waine into slumber.
Chapter 28
Kevon woke before the imp panicked at dawn’s approach. His stomach felt knotted up, he’d slept badly, having several nightmares. Time was growing short until he would have to confront and kill the evil Magi. Although Kevon had seen death, and felt partly responsible for the bandit’s death on the road to Eastport, he’d never killed before.
They’re just a half a dozen problems, Kevon thought, eyes closed tightly, hand moving unconsciously to the hidden sheath on the back of his right leg. And I’ve got a handful of solutions.
Kevon forced himself to rest, knowing how important every ounce of strength would be later.
Soon enough, the imp began squealing in terror. The Mages rose quickly, and Kevon could see that Waine had already left camp.
Without preamble, Pholos began untying the already immobilized imp. Kevon formed the Aid rune and matched the Control rune that materialized in his mind. Pholos backed safely away and formed the Dark rune, pumping power into it almost recklessly. The rapid power drain alone did not faze Kevon, but added to the sheer vulgarity of the spell, it made Kevon stagger a few steps before he caught himself.
As soon as the imp entered the portal to escape to its own plane, Pholos released the spell.
Kevon thought the rift closed a little slower, the mind-warping edges of the tear in space wobbling like a drunkard’s smacking lips. The sound it made as it collapsed in on itself this time was more of a squish than a thump. Somehow, Kevon felt less drained, but more violated. He placed a cupped hand to his mouth and breathed for a few moments before Pholos commented.
“It’s easier to do it before it gets any lighter, isn’t it?” he asked Kevon. “Most things are like that, easier to cast if they’re already present around you. Fire when it’s hot, Water when it’s raining. It’s rarely useful.”
Kevon nodded numbly, recalling conversations in his studies with Master Holten about elemental affinities. The stress he’d felt before, the taint of the Dark magic, and the thought of his former mentor weighed heavily on Kevon. Sighing, he shuffled over to his pile of saddlebags and pulled out some bread and jerky.
“Put that away,” Waine called as he strolled back into camp with two skinned rabbits slung over one arm and a handful of empty snare lines in the other hand.
Pholos whispered something, pointing to a nearby deadfall, and a small round snapped off and rolled lurchingly into camp to tumble into the used fire pit.
Kevon took over, bringing the wood to a full blaze in under half a minute. By the time he’d gotten it going well enough to release his spell, Kevon noticed Pholos was sitting by the fire, shaking almost convulsively. After casting the Dark portal, he would have been better off gathering wood by hand, Kevon thought. It was more impressive his way, though.
Waine had the rabbits spitted and cooking over the fire in no time. When they were done, the Seeker took the smaller and let the Mages split the larger of the rabbits.
Kevon knew that half a rabbit wouldn’t satisfy him, but remembered how little he used to eat while he’d been apprenticing with Holten. The work of a scholar did not require the same meals as a Warrior. Kevon made a point to not even finish his half, though he did eat more than Pholos.
“That was very good, Willem,” Pholos commented. “Don’t you think so, Kalron?”
“Willem is a fine cook, when the mood strikes him,” Kevon agreed.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider wielding copper instead of steel,” the younger Mage joked.
“I rather enjoy being in a kitchen,” Waine responded.
“Oh?”
“When I’m looking for a wench to tumble.”
Kevon laughed, half at the joke, and half at Pholos’s gaping expression.
Pholos’s look of shock slowly lifted into a grin. “Fair enough,” he conceded.
After the three of them were done and had disposed of their scraps in the fire, the Mages repacked their belongings and Waine saddled the horses.
Once the three were back on the road, talk was sparse. Kevon could not think of anything else he really needed to know, and had no desire to get to know Pholos any better. After a few attempts on Pholos’s part to strike up a conversation, Kevon told the Mage that he was road-weary, and looking forward to a real night’s rest.
Shortly after the midday break, they spotted the tower in the distance. As they drew nearer Kevon could see that it was easily eight to ten times wider than any he had ever seen before. It was also taller than it looked at first glance, easily twice the height of some of the palatial towers Kevon had seen in Navlia. The sheer magnitude of the building was intimidating on a level Kevon had not been prepared for.
The group followed the streamside track up to the tower. Pholos briefly explained how the moat surrounding the tower was fed from a magically forced spring, much like the canal-ways and fountains of Navlia. Pholos’s spirits seemed to lift the nearer they got, in spite of his companions’ lack of enthusiasm.
The group topped a small ridge, and outbuildings came into view. One was clearly a stable; the other could have been a large farmhouse.
“You’ll have to stay there, Willem,” Pholos said, gesturing toward the building. “It’s rare that anyone but Mages gain admittance to the tower, and Warriors, never.”
“I’ve no problem with that,” Waine countered. “I daresay I could use some time away from magic.”
The three continued, passing through an apple orchard, a hay field, and finally close by a flock of sheep tended by a young boy. Upon seeing the travelers, the shepherd walked closer until he recognized Pholos, then stopped to wave as the three rode past.
“Master Gurlin has a hand in everything that goes on in sight of his tower,” Pholos commented. “His protection is repaid in gifts and service from all the nearby families.”
“Protection?” Kevon asked, throwing a sideways glance at Waine. “Protection from what?”
“Whatever
people need protecting from, I suppose,” Pholos answered. “Years ago, when Master Gurlin first arrived, he rid the area of orcs that had been marauding around the valley. The locals banded together to help construct the tower, and have traded service for security ever since.”
“So…” Waine began slowly, “Your boss is rather well liked around here?”
“Children of the families in the valley squabble over which one of them gets to serve in the tower. Master Gurlin will only allow one per family, so that the households remain intact,” Pholos answered. “Right now, the tower outbuildings house around two dozen, half of which spend the day inside the tower walls, but leave at night.”
Waine spat into his hand and ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back. “I’d better make myself presentable if I’m to meet all these new people,” he grunted.
Pholos looked away, disgusted, but Kevon saw how the Seeker’s free hand moved to rest on his sword hilt. Kevon knew now that he would be on his own once inside the tower, but there might be danger outside once the locals knew of the attack. Waine would have to be the one that made good on their escape once Kevon had seen justice done. Kevon decided to trust Waine’s judgment in this matter.
They arrived at the stable and dismounted. Pholos introduced the two hostlers to Kalron and Willem. The young Mage took only one saddlebag, leaving the rest of his tack and supplies for the servants of the tower to deal with.
Kevon said a hasty goodbye to Waine as he shouldered his Mage-appropriate saddlebags and followed Pholos to the tower. His skin crawled as he set foot on the drawbridge that was the only entrance to the gigantic stone structure. Without trying, he could feel the Enchantments that protected the bridge from the weathering of the elements, and strengthened it to withstand nearly any kind of attack.
Pholos looked back at Kevon and smiled as if recalling the first time he had crossed the bridge. “Follow me to the kitchen. After we have a hot meal, we’ll find Master Gurlin, and arrange your quarters.”
The two Mages continued on across the bridge, nearing the stone archway that led into the tower, and Kevon got his first glimpse of the inside. What he’d thought was an inner stone wall was really a central tower within free-standing outer walls. The central tower took up perhaps a third of the area inside the outer enclosure, and rose almost to the top of the outside walls. Kevon saw three rope bridges with wooden slats spanning the distance from the top of the inner tower to the flared balcony battlements that curved inward near the top of the outer wall. Noting that the three he saw were in roughly cardinal directions, Kevon assumed there was a fourth bridge on the other side of the inner tower.
Pholos led Kevon through the large archway, and veered off to the right as soon as they were clear of the entrance, headed toward a squat, boxy structure with smoke coming from a chimney. Other multi-story buildings of various shapes and sizes seemed to grow out of the walls of the outer enclosure.
Before the two Mages reached the building, Kevon could smell bread baking. A young girl sitting by the door to the kitchen rose as she heard the outer door opening, starting across the room toward them. Pholos held up two fingers. The girl smiled, turned on her heel, and darted back through the kitchen door.
Shortly after they had dropped their gear, washed up, and seated themselves, the girl reappeared. She carried plates with bread, corn, and thick slabs of roasted pork. She struggled a bit, and almost dropped Kevon’s plate on him. Red-faced, she managed to save it at the last second, and hurried away as soon as she set the plate down.
As they ate, Pholos described various parts of the compound. Most interesting to Kevon was the layout of the central tower. The first floor was a large meeting hall and several small storerooms. Half of the next floor was housing for students, the rest divided between several small libraries and laboratories. The third floor was a library reserved for full Mages. Above that, only Gurlin and visiting Masters were allowed.
Pholos chattered on between bites of food, and Kevon nodded along absently, paying little attention. His mind wandered to the possibilities that lay above the third floor of the tower. He wondered if the answers he was looking for were there, waiting for him.
Sensing Kevon’s lack of interest, Pholos quieted and ate rapidly, finishing about the same time as Kevon did. The younger Mage stood, dusted crumbs from his cloak, and motioned for Kevon to follow. Kevon stood, stretched, and shouldered his bags once more. The pair ventured outside into the heat of the afternoon.
Kevon followed Pholos to the entrance of the inner tower, and into the building. They passed without pause through a small ceremonial antechamber, down a short hallway that opened into the formal greeting hall. As they moved through the hall, Kevon could see openings along the sides of the chamber that opened to hallways running parallel to the length of the larger room. The hallways were bricked to blend with the room from several angles, and a casual observer might miss them completely. Kevon smiled and walked faster to catch back up with Pholos.
A similarly concealed hallway at the far end of the greeting hall led to twin staircases that curved up and back along the outer wall of the tower. Pholos turned to the right and began ascending the steps quickly, Kevon close behind.
The pair had advanced less than twenty steps up the shallow stairwell when they met another robed figure descending.
“Who is this?!” the newcomer snapped, stepping to the side to get a better look at Kevon. The short, harsh echoes of the stone passage seemed to fit the woman’s voice to her appearance. She was no taller than Kevon’s sister, but that was where the resemblance ended. Her startling red hair was pulled back in a braid that whipped around to the side as her head twisted to fix on Kevon. Cold blue eyes were framed in her severe, pinched face.
“What a surprise!” Pholos cried, almost masking the sarcastic overtones in his voice. “Mirsa ’ap Briltor, this is Kalron ’ap Holten.” The Mage paused for a moment as the woman’s eyes widened. “He’s come to study with us,” he added happily.
Mirsa refocused her gaze on Kevon. “Master Gurlin is in his study, and will not be disturbed. What were you planning on doing with him?” she sniffed.
“I’m going to show him to his room, Mirsa,” Pholos chided. “The Master would expect no less for a student of his friend.”
“We shall see.” Mirsa ruffled her cloak dramatically and swept down past Pholos and Kevon, huffing slightly.
Kevon looked questioningly at Pholos.
“She sees you as competition,” Pholos explained. “Not just you, all Magi. And if you’re not a Mage, you’re nothing. It’s sad, really.” He flashed Kevon a smile and started back up the stairs.
Kevon followed Pholos to the top of the stairway. Another narrow hallway doubled back along the stairwell before turning to head back in the direction of the tower’s entrance. They passed two doorways in the first section of hallway, rounded the corner, and passed two more before Pholos stopped at the next door.
“This is the best room we have open now. It’s not the biggest, but it’s halfway between the entrance and the laboratories,” Pholos explained. “There’s library access on the other end of this floor, through the workshops, but it’s easier to take the left staircase from the main floor.”
Pholos turned to go. “I don’t know that I’d wander around just yet. Mirsa’s the only other one here that knows you, and she’d forget if it suited her. Get settled in your room and come to the dining hall for dinner later. Master Gurlin usually takes his evening meal there with us.”
“Thank you, Pholos,” Kevon answered. “You’ve been a great help, I won’t forget it.”
Pholos waved and disappeared around the corner.
Kevon opened the door to the room and went in. He quickly closed it, pausing only to light the torch with a quick burst of magic. He set his baggage down and took a look around.
Evil has its advantages, Kevon thought grimly as he studied the furnishings. Any of the items arranged around the small room would have been out
of place in even the nicest inn Kevon had stayed at during his travels. The wooden chairs and table were smooth and polished, not with age, but by artisans with tools and oils. The bedposts and accompanying tables were made of a dark wood that Kevon had not seen before. Wherever there was a flat surface, it seemed as if he could see inches into the grain of the wood, even though it was perfectly ordinary to the touch. The blankets on the bed looked newly made, stitched with a decorative pattern around the edges. The pitcher and washbasin on the table next to the door were bone-white porcelain.
Kevon sat down on the bed, wondering what to do next. He didn’t particularly want to be seen snooping about before the other Magi knew about him. The only thought that crossed Kevon’s mind was that if he was meeting Gurlin for the evening meal, there might be a chance the Wizard would be tired from the day’s work.
Any advantage I can get, Kevon thought. He reached back to adjust the hidden knife so that it would be a bit more comfortable, slumped over to the side, and closed his eyes to take a nap.
Chapter 29
Kevon startled awake at the light knocking on his door.
“Kalron?” Pholos’s voice strained through the thick door. “Are you still in there?”
Kevon rose, yawning and stretching as he went to open the door.
“Ahh. You are still here.” Pholos smiled happily. “I thought I would stop by on my way from the library to take you to meet Master Gurlin.”
Kevon nodded. “I just need to collect a few things.” He quickly located the book and the letter, pocketing them both carefully before returning to his waiting escort. “Lead the way.”
The small dining hall was as crowded as a busy inn. Three other Magi were already seated at two of the smaller tables, and it looked like the tower’s support staff were just finishing up their evening meal before the Mages were expected. The gathering seemed to be missing only Gurlin and Mirsa.
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