by A. H. Lee
“Oh, no!” Roland leapt up, cursing and baffled. It had been years since his internal clock had failed him. The time must be close to ten. How could I have slept so late?
The answer, as it turned out, was magic. Marsden identified the sleep charm immediately when he woke, and Sairis confirmed his finding. Candice and the demon were gone. They’d taken some blankets and a canteen.
“I should have seen this coming,” grumbled Marsden. “I should have bound her last night, collared her, even. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“She talked to Hastafel’s ghost for quite a while before I found them,” said Sairis miserably. “The boy, I mean, the one her own age. I wonder if he if he turned her to his cause somehow.”
“She was alone with him?!” exploded Marsden. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“There were a few other things on my mind!” shot Sairis.
“That was probably the demon’s entire purpose,” muttered Marsden, “to ensnare her into a meeting with his master.”
Roland felt sick. In spite of the sleeping charm, he couldn’t help feeling that he’d failed everyone, including Daphne.
“I assume she took the sword?” asked Sairis.
“No,” said Marsden. “I had it well-cloaked; she probably couldn’t find it.”
The brilliant sunlight revealed five charred bodies in the pyre that Marsden had created. Four of them looked like animals. The fifth was the magician. “There won’t be anything left of the vampire,” said Marsden. “They burn like parchment paper.”
Roland stared at the blackened corpses for longer than he knew he should have. They were monsters. They’d tried to kill him. “How many friends did you lose this year?”
“Did they suffer?” he heard himself ask.
Marsden gave him an odd look. “Sairis pulled them across the River. I doubt they suffered at all.”
“Marsden only burned their bodies,” said Sairis quietly. “They were already dead.”
Roland nodded. “What sort of...of magician was Caseous?”
“Skin-walker, I think,” said Marsden. “A human who is skilled at possession. He tried it on me, but my wards absorbed the attack. I’ll admit, I was worried for a moment. I think he had put a glamour on them all or else I would have seen their natures at once. Roland, these creatures wanted to murder us.”
“Would it have mattered if they hadn’t?” asked Sairis.
“Of course it would!” snapped Marsden.
“You kill werewolves and vampires on sight.”
“Because they eat people, Sairis. Have you spoken with any of them? They do not regard human beings as the same species as themselves.”
“The vampire,” interrupted Roland, “Alistair. He said he wanted to turn me so that...so that my family would learn sympathy.”
“Seems reasonable,” said Sairis.
“It seems monstrous!” exploded Marsden.
“Have you tried your inhibitors on werewolves or vampires?” asked Sairis. “Or only on people like me?”
Marsden threw up his hands. “We have been more focused on finding solutions for people who do not dine on human beings and who still consider themselves part of the human race. If we figure out how to make aberrant powers safe, we can move on to monsters.”
“See, there’s your problem,” scoffed Sairis. “‘Safe.’ No powerful person will ever be ‘safe,’ Marsden. But werewolves and vampires and sorcerers are part of the new magic. We will exist whether you like it or not. We will keep spirit-walking and summoning and shifting whether you think it’s proper or not. If we all talk to each other, perhaps we will learn to practice more safely. And,” he added after a moment’s consideration, “humanely.”
Marsden shook his head. “This is the sort of magic that devours its practitioners.”
“I disagree! And I think you focus too much on abuses of power and not enough on its usefulness. New magic could bring water for drought-ridden farms. Werewolves and vampires could protect the border—”
“Are you seriously suggesting that we let vampires and werewolves eat our enemies, who are also human beings?”
“No. Give me a little credit.”
“Then how would you feed them?”
Sairis rolled his eyes. “That’s where your research comes in. But I’m certain of one thing: magic is the solution to the problems facing Mistala. It’s the problem and the solution, and you can’t stop it.”
Roland was impressed. Sairis and Marsden were disagreeing, but they were also looking each other in the eyes and speaking like peers, rather than adversaries. He hated to interrupt them, but... “We have to go.”
So they filled their empty bellies with cold water and pressed on towards Mosshaven. Roland pushed the horses hard, even galloping when the ground allowed, asking for everything Cato could give and hoping that Marsden’s animal could keep up. Sairis hung on tightly behind him. They were all hungry, and nobody talked.
Sunset was still an hour off when the land changed noticeably. Now they were riding among saw-toothed mountains as the road switchbacked higher, into the range created by the Sundering. The air grew cold. A dusting of snow covered the trail.
At last, the Ridge Road met a broader road from the north. They passed their first fellow traveler—a woman wearing a pack and walking with her head down. Roland called to her, “Excuse me! Do you know whether the army of Mistala has passed into the mountains? They would have marched beneath Mosshaven. Have you seen them?”
The woman looked up at him with a quick, fearful glance and shook her head. Before he could say anything else, she veered off the road and vanished into the trees.
“You scared her, Roland,” said Sairis.
Roland sighed. “The woods are full of bandits and deserters. And vampires and werewolves, apparently. With the war eating up all the good troops, there isn’t much left for peacekeeping.”
Soon afterwards, they met two boys with a pack of dogs. This pair was more talkative. Yes, they’d seen soldiers in the last few days. There was an army in the pass. There was an army in front of the pass. There were several armies.
Roland became frustrated. “Yes, but are they still here or have they gone into the mountains?”
One boy said they were here. The other insisted they’d gone. Roland nudged Cato on down the increasingly broad and well-maintained road. It was full dark when they stopped, dusty and hollow with hunger, before the gates of Mosshaven. A pair of suspicious old men greeted them from behind a barred door. Roland described himself as a Mistalan officer, hoping that he would not need to reveal his full identity. The guards were unimpressed. It was their firm policy not to open the gates at night. Their policy was altered by a silver coin, however, and the three travelers passed into the cozy, well-lit streets.
“Someone must know about the army,” grumbled Roland. “I wonder whether I should wake the mayor. It’s ridiculous that nobody seems to have noticed a bloody great army passing through the valley below them!”
“I think the army is still there.” Roland turned to see Marsden standing in his stirrups, staring towards the village square at the end of the road. Mosshaven had an overlook on one side of its square. The place was picturesque by day, but the few scattered hamlets in the valley did not light their streets at night, and so the overlook usually showed nothing in the evening.
Now, however, Roland glimpsed pinpricks of light beyond the town square. He kicked his horse and they cantered over the icy cobbles. As he approached, he caught more and more points of light beyond the trees. As they passed the last house, the full view of the valley lit up below them, blanketed in tiny, distant flames.
Campfires.
The knot that had formed in Roland’s stomach that morning loosened. I’m not too late. He could hardly believe it. He leaned forward across Cato’s neck, weak with relief. I can talk to Daphne about Uncle Winthrop. I can explain everything about Sairis with Marsden to back me up. We can go into battle knowing who to trust.
Marsden’s horse caught up with Cato and they all sat staring. “Well,” said Marsden at last, “that looks like an army settled in for the night. Are we going straight down to meet them?”
Roland felt Sairis go rigid in the saddle behind him. He was suddenly conscious of how the outside world would see their party. A fugitive necromancer who’d escaped after wreaking havoc on Mistalan troops, and the valiant prince and court magician who’d captured him and brought him back.
I didn’t, objected Roland to himself. Did I?
He wondered what Sairis was thinking. He used up a lot of his magic to save us. He probably doesn’t have many fireballs left in him at the moment.
Marsden was watching Roland. He was watching Sairis, too.
Roland wheeled Cato back towards town. “We seem to have arrived in Mosshaven with time to spare. I suspect tomorrow will be difficult. Best to face it with full stomachs, clean clothes, and a good night’s sleep.” He gave Cato’s neck an affectionate pat and added, “Also, well-fed horses.”
Marsden trotted beside him. “I can see the wisdom in that. However, delays could cost us if the situation is other than it appears.”
“I think the risk is small,” said Roland. “Whatever Uncle Winthrop has told Daphne, I can countermand it. She won’t take his side over mine. The most important thing is that they have not yet marched into the pass.”
“I agree,” said Marsden, “but—”
“It’s likely we will face a tricky situation tomorrow,” continued Roland. “We may have to argue our case against determined opposition, and it will not do to arrive looking like vagabonds.” I will not make Sairis face my uncle again in rags, Marsden.
Marsden took a hard look at him, then nodded. “Where do you intend to stay?”
“The Satin Stone. It’s about two blocks away.”
Marsden smiled. “I know the place.”
“Do you have enough coin?”
“I do. I’ll ask the grooms to have my horse saddled in the courtyard an hour before dawn and plan to meet you there. Does that sound acceptable?”
“Yes.” Roland was relieved that Marsden wasn’t going to argue with him. He was even starting to feel a little giddy. We got here in time. In fact, it was still early in the evening. Plenty of time!
Sairis spoke at last. “Roland?” His voice held an edge of uncertainty. Roland had no doubt that he’d been contemplating his reunion with Winthrop Malconwy and the army of Mistala.
First things first.
“We are going to eat now,” said Roland firmly. “It will be alright. Trust me.”
Chapter 32. Back Where We Started
I said I was going home. And here I am, almost back where I started.
Sairis felt as though he were waking from a dream. In the forest, it had felt as though he were on the same side as Roland and Marsden. And, to a lesser extent, even Candice and Mal. They were all working together towards something. Did I forget where we were all headed afterward?
Riding through the mountains, it hadn’t seemed important that Sairis couldn’t see around Roland’s shoulders, that he had no ability to direct his course. He’d forgotten that his shoes didn’t fit, that he had no supplies of his own, no transportation, no way to run. He’d used up his magic without a thought yesterday to save people who felt like friends.
Now, Sairis wondered whether it would feel any different to be riding into Mosshaven across the back of Roland’s saddle, trussed up like an outlaw, captured by a knight. Which is what we actually are.
They’d arrived at a stone arch with beautifully carved lanterns to either side, lit with oil. Sairis caught the tantalizing odor of food. Beyond the arch lay a small but inviting courtyard with a frozen pond and more softly glowing lanterns. Roland got down from Cato, looped the reins over a porch rail, and said, “I’ll only be a moment.” He went inside.
Sairis was glad he had not been asked to face strangers. He wondered whether Roland already knew him that well or whether he was just doing what was expedient. The main building was long and obviously included a restaurant. The windows were clouded glass, rippled like water, and honey-gold with light. Human silhouettes moved beyond them. Sairis could hear people talking and laughing, the tinkle of cutlery. The smell of food made him dizzy. A part of him wanted to run inside at once and eat the first thing he could lay his hands on.
Another part of him was desperately curious about the jumble of softly lit buildings beyond the restaurant. They were set into the side of a hill among wooden paths and stairways, dotted with lanterns. Steam rose, curling among their walls, making everything gauzy, indistinct, and, Sairis had to admit, incredibly romantic.
This is my chance to run. He could take a bedroll and a canteen just as Candice had done. He thought he had just enough magic for a cloaking charm. Perhaps he could steal some food, a good pair of shoes, even. Do you really think you’d get far with Marsden tracking you?
I might, he argued with himself. If there’s a battle in the mountains tomorrow, my magic will spike. Even at this distance, that much death should give me an advantage. I might get away. And surely I have to risk it no matter how poor the odds. This might be my only chance to escape a mage collar or worse.
Snow began to fall. Sairis tucked his gloveless hands into his sleeves and curled over in the saddle. Or I might freeze to death tonight in the mountains. And even if I didn’t...even if I made it all the way back to my tower...I might spend the next eighty years...wondering...
* * * *
Roland realized halfway through his conversation with the inn’s proprietor that he might have made a mistake. As he emerged into the courtyard, he was relieved to see Sairis still in the saddle, shoulders drooping, snow frosting his dark hair. Don’t run yet, Sair.
Roland helped him out of the saddle, and they were joined by the inn’s groom, who took Cato away for the finest horse massage money could buy, a bag of oats, and all the hay he could eat. Sairis looked back in confusion as Roland led him after the attendant in the opposite direction. “Don’t you need your gear?”
“They’ll deliver it,” said Roland. “They’ll clean all the tack, too. The best thing about money is that it saves you a lot of time when you’re in a hurry.”
Sairis glanced up at him. “Are we in a hurry?”
Roland smiled. “I would be if I had to clean all that tack. I wanted time for something else this evening.”
They were walking through steam now. It rolled off the hot springs most times of year in the mountains, but especially in winter. The air grew moist and a little warmer. Roland tilted his face up just to feel the snow melt against his cheeks. Their attendant took a flight of steps into a sunken entrance and unlocked a door. Inside, they found a cozy sitting room with a fireplace, a sofa, table and chairs.
A door beyond led to the bedroom. Tapestries with scenes of a fall bear hunt lined the walls, the leaves picked out in brilliant orange and gold. Stone artwork of swimming fish hung over the mantel, painted in the same colors.
Their attendant—a dark-haired woman in a fur-lined cape, said, “Food will arrive in a moment, and your bags will be brought up by the page. Our staff will also be here to take the measurements you requested. In the meantime, there’s wine and water in the cupboard beside the fireplace, along with bread, nuts, and cheese. Refresh yourselves and let us serve you.”
“Thank you,” said Roland.
The moment she was out the door, Sairis crossed the room like a hound scenting blood and located the bread and cheese.
“There’s more food coming,” objected Roland.
“And I will eat that, too,” said Sairis around a thick slice of bread. “You have no idea how much energy it takes to call the River.”
Roland grinned. He watched Sairis eat and felt the beginnings of true contentment. A moment later two tailors arrived. Roland went into the bedroom with his man so that everyone would have plenty of space to work. He spent the next ten minutes answering detailed personal ques
tions about his preferences in clothing and having a tape measure applied to every part of his body.
When the tailor had finished, Roland put himself back together and returned to the main room to find Sairis there alone. He was staring out the window at the blur of lights among the other private suites. The snow hit the pane of glass and slid down in mesmerizing tracks as it melted. Sairis was still wearing the rumpled soldier’s shirt Marsden had brought him. The sleeves were too long. They swallowed his hands. He stood there hugging himself, watching the snow. “You ordered me clothes,” he said without turning.
“I did,” said Roland. “They won’t be as nice as if we had a few days to wait on them, but they will at least fit.”
Sairis laughed. He had a catch in his voice. He looked down. “They measured my feet, too.”
“That’s because I ordered you shoes.” Roland crossed the room to stand beside him. “Shoes that fit and won’t give you blisters.”
Sairis looked up at him, his glasses magnifying his dark eyes.
“You are not my prisoner,” whispered Roland.
Sairis swallowed. “Is that what you think?”
Roland took him by the shoulders. “I sent them to find you a horse.”
Sairis burst out laughing.
“The gentlest gelding in town,” persisted Roland.
Sairis grew quiet again.
“Food,” said Roland, “clothes, shoes, transportation, all the money I have left, which granted isn’t much—”
“Roland...” Sairis shut his eyes. There was something like defeat in his voice. “You might as well have me tied across your saddle.”
“No,” whispered Roland.
“You might as well have a collar around my neck.”
“Sair!”
“What I’m trying to say—”
At that moment the food arrived and Sairis forgot what he was trying to say. There were four courses, and he was right. The bread and cheese did not slow him down in the slightest.
Thank you for reading The Knight and the Necromancer!
