“Tallis is asleep right over there,” Jaron said, pointing. Brannon twisted his head to look and was relieved to see that this was true. “And he’s all right, before you ask. A little strained and worse for the wear, but he’ll recover. How are you feeling?”
“All right, I guess . . . tired.” Brannon shifted slightly. “Sore. Like after that time I was cleaning the ceiling and fell off the ladder. Just achy everywhere.”
“Can you feel your hands at all?” Jaron asked.
Brannon stared down at the bandages. “No,” he said.
“Good,” Jaron said. “We’ve used some heavy magic on them; otherwise you would probably be in a great deal of pain right now. However, the burns are the only injuries you have. The pain you feel is residual from the spells Emory used on you, and should go away in a day or so.”
“You didn’t answer all my questions,” Brannon pointed out.
Jaron’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “You are here because the Warders brought you back here after they defeated Emory. I am here because after a considerable amount of time spent dithering, Elder Edrich sent word to the High Temple to ask for aid in your recovery. I asked several of the mages there to build me a Gate here, and arrived a little before you did. Elder Edrich is in his chambers.”
“Mm.” Brannon leaned back, feeling sleepy again. “Is Tallis all right?” he asked, forgetting that Jaron had already answered this question.
“He’ll be fine,” Jaron said, and looked up as the healer bustled in. “Ah, Garrant, the little one is awake.”
Garrant looked over and headed towards him with a smile. “You’re awfully sturdy,” he said to Brannon. “I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Brannon said, with a large yawn. “I’m almost done.”
Garrant laughed. “Drink some of this before you go to sleep,” he said. “It will help heal your hands while you’re resting.”
“Mm . . . all right.” Brannon let Garrant hold the cup to his lips and sipped gingerly. Most of the healing potions that Edrich used tasted awful, but this was surprisingly good, tasting a little like berries with an aftertaste of earth. He drank it in three swallows, then let Garrant help him lie down. “Father Jaron?” he asked.
“Yes, little one?”
Brannon wanted to protest that he had a name, but somehow, being called ‘little one’ was a lot less insulting than being called ‘the boy.’ “Why’d the Mirror do that?”
There was a pause, then Jaron said, “We do not always understand the will of the gods.”
Brannon huffed. “Give me a real answer.”
Jaron bit his lip to keep from laughing; Garrant didn’t bother. “I imagine it wanted to protect you, Brannon. The Imperial Regalia is very old and heavily magical; it recognized someone who could call to it.”
“I didn’t mean to call to it,” Brannon said.
“Oh, as I hear from Calessa, you most certainly did.”
Brannon blushed a little and turned his face away. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t be sorry, little one. There’s no shame in using what you have to save yourself.”
“Oh . . . all right,” Brannon said, and yawned again.
“Get some rest,” Jaron said.
“One more question,” Brannon said, struggling to stay awake. “Do I get to go with Tallis? Is Elder going to keep me here?”
Jaron reached out and gently touched Brannon’s arm. “There is nothing the Elder can do to keep you here,” he said. “Tallis would like very much to take you with him when he leaves. It will be easier if I can convince Edrich to agree to it, but if you want to go with Tallis, then you will.”
“Good,” Brannon said. “Thank you,” he added, and then closed his eyes and slept.
* * *
The Sheng Yin arrived before Tallis had woken, and swept into the monastery like a minor deity. Brannon was roused long enough to greet him, although he did it sullenly and rather sleepily, and the Sheng Yin was quite annoyed when Garrant shortly threw him out of the infirmary so his charges could rest.
“You’ll have to forgive him,” Jaron said, despite his amusement with the matter. “He’s very touchy about things like that.”
“Clearly,” the Sheng Yin said. They had gathered in Edrich’s chambers to discuss what further steps needed to be taken. The Sheng Yin sat in Edrich’s gilt chair, leaving both Edrich and Jaron kneeling before him on the mat. He looked at them both with an imperious glance. Edrich quailed; Jaron did not seem to notice. “Shall we begin?”
“O-Of course, your Grace,” Edrich mumbled.
The Sheng Yin gave him a cold look. “Would you care to explain the situation, Elder Edrich?”
The Elder paled slightly. “Forgive me,” he said. “I could not control the boy well enough. He had been told to not approach the Warders, yet – ”
“There was no way,” Jaron interrupted, “that you could have kept the two of them apart. They must have been drawn to each other by magic far beyond your understanding – and mine,” he added generously.
“Yes, but I didn’t know,” Edrich said. “No one told me who or what Tallis was.”
Jaron sighed. “Your problem is that you can never infer, Edrich. Brannon’s obeyed you all this time, no matter how sullenly. You should have realized it meant something when he defied your word so completely. You should have reported it back to us. The matter could have been cleared up quickly.”
Edrich looked away.
“That is really of no consequence,” the Sheng Yin said. “What concerns me more is the fact that the boy left the monastery and disappeared, and nothing was reported to us for over twelve hours.”
“Well,” Edrich mumbled, shifting, and then he fell silent.
“There can be no excuse for this,” the Sheng Yin said, “as I am certain that your logic was merely that if you could recover the boy before we found out, you would not be rebuked for losing him in the first place.”
Edrich said nothing, folding his hands in front of himself and bowing low.
“I am forced to agree, therefore, that this monastery is no longer the best place for Brannon,” the Sheng Yin said. Edrich’s head snapped up and he formed a wordless protest, but it died in his mouth at one look from the High Priest. “The Regalia will remain here until such time as the Emperor can claim it.”
Jaron chuckled. “Looks to me like he’s gotten a good start.”
“What about the Sword?” Edrich asked, glaring at Jaron.
“The Sword is in good hands,” Jaron said implacably. “Neither I nor its keeper am inclined to return it at this time, Edrich, particularly after this last debacle.”
“Agreed,” the Sheng Yin said. “Which leaves us the tricky problem of what to do with Brannon. You yourself, Elder Jaron, have said on occasion that the Warder Academy is not always the best place for especially gifted youngsters.”
“That is true,” Jaron admitted, with some reluctance. “But if we spoke with the heads of the Academy, we could make sure that he was handled properly.”
“The Warders are a very secular group,” the Sheng Yin pointed out.
Jaron let out a slight snort, thinking of what Tallis had said about Brannon’s atheism. “Do you think that this would honestly have any influence on the Emperor?” he asked. “You can’t expect the old religion to spring back to life with him. A good Emperor would not force any religion on the people.”
This comment was met with a rather sharp glare from the Sheng Yin. “I trust that you do know the goals of reviving the religion,” the Sheng Yin said, his voice caustic.
Jaron gave the Sheng Yin a sideways glance. “I trust that you remember my duties have always been slightly different from yours.”
The Sheng Yin drew himself up. “I have given you leeway to conduct your little game on the side – ”
“This is no game, your Grace,” Jaron said, and the cheer had left his voice. “This is about one very lonely soul. One that has the power t
o destroy just about anything, in case you have forgotten. I suggest very heavily that you let Brannon be. And please don’t insinuate that you control me. You have given me no leeway; I have simply taken it. This is the duty that was left to me, and it is not something you can change.”
Edrich was gaping a little to see the Sheng Yin so addressed, and he jumped to attention when the High Priest turned to him. “Edrich,” he said, “you may leave us.”
Although he would have liked to stay, the Elder knew better than to argue. He bowed hastily and left the room.
The Sheng Yin redirected his attention to Jaron. “We agreed long ago,” he said, “that supervising Tallis would be your jurisdiction, and supervising the Emperor would be mine.”
“That’s very true,” Jaron said. “But now they’ve met each other, and that adds a whole new layer of complexity. Either you let Brannon attend the Warder Academy, or I will allow you to explain to Tallis why you won’t.”
“That sounded very much like a threat,” the Sheng Yin said.
Jaron stood, folded his hands in front of himself, and bowed deeply. “Your Grace,” he said. “I believe I may be needed elsewhere. Please think about what I said.”
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Tallis woke up slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. It was deathly quiet, far more quiet than his apartment in Kan Shou ever was, or the rooms he sometimes used at the temple in Bai Miao when he stayed with Jaron. The bed was less comfortable, too; thin and not very soft. It rustled underneath him when he moved. He finally opened his eyes and looked around at the oppressive stone walls.
He was lying on his side, propped up somewhat on a mound of pillows. His body felt sore and tired, but he didn’t feel any specific injuries. He had overworked himself, as he often did. Any time he was forced to do a great deal of magic, he would face several days of fever and pain while his body recovered. Another glance around revealed that Brannon was sitting on the end of his bed with his legs folded underneath himself, watching him wake up.
Tallis looked around and found the window, but without knowing whether or not it faced west or east, he could not tell what time it was. Sunlight was trickling inside, but not very much. There were several other beds in the room, and he gathered quickly that he was in an infirmary of some sort. Brannon was wrapped in a scratchy brown blanket, watching him come to his bearings.
“It’s midday,” he said. “And you’re in the infirmary.”
“Oh.” Tallis studied the boy and decided that he looked all right, if a little tired. There was no sign of any injury except for the bandages on his hands. Relief flooded his chest, and he relaxed against the pillows, rolling onto his back. “You look better,” he said, his voice a little rougher, a little quieter than normal.
Brannon’s nose wrinkled. “I’m tired. You look awful.”
“Do I?” Tallis struggled to sit up a little more. The pain in his chest flared out and he coughed several times. “How long was I asleep?”
“About a day and a half.” Brannon gave him an admonishing look and said, “Lie back down.” He made no move to push Tallis down, but Tallis sagged back against the pillows without a protest.
“If you’re tired, you should lie down, too,” the Warder replied.
“I’m watching over you,” Brannon said, his voice taking on the stubborn tone that Tallis was beginning to realize he would probably never win against. “I am resting.”
“All right,” Tallis said, with a sigh. His eyes went to the book in Brannon’s lap that the boy had ostensibly been reading. “What are you reading?”
“The book you got me.” Brannon put it aside and gave the Warder a serious look from head to toe. “Are you feeling all right?”
Tallis nodded. “I was just worn out.”
“You were not,” Brannon said, giving him an accusing look. “You were coughing up blood. And you’ve been pale and feverish. You’re still pale and feverish.”
“Sometimes that happens when I do too much magic,” Tallis told him. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”
“Of course I noticed,” Brannon said. “I was over here long before the healer said it was all right to be out of bed.”
Tallis groaned at this easy admission on Brannon’s part. “If I have to listen to what people tell me to do for my health, then so do you. I’m glad of the company, but I don’t want you getting sick.”
Brannon scowled. “I’m not sick,” he said. “I was just tired. After I – ” He stopped and his brow momentarily furrowed as he sought a description of what had occurred. Then he shrugged. “Well. Whatever happened. I was tired.”
“You used the Mirror,” Tallis explained. “And your own magic.”
“I know that much,” Brannon said with another shrug. “I just don’t know how.”
Tallis suspected that no one had explained to Brannon about his theoretical destiny to be the next Emperor. He certainly wasn’t about to explain it, because he knew that Brannon didn’t want to hear it. If Brannon grew up to be the next Emperor, that would be wonderful, but Tallis wasn’t about to push him either way. “Something about your magic must be able to touch the magic held in the Mirror, but a lot of time we don’t know what we’ve done the first few times we use our magic. Especially if it’s in a time of danger.”
Brannon thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s about what everyone else said.” He paused, then asked, “Did he get away?”
“Yes,” Tallis said, “but it’ll be a while before he recovers from that spell. And we recovered the Mirror,” he added, trying to ignoring the feelings of dread and guilt over Emory’s escape. He had been in some bad situations in his life, and fought many strong opponents, but none had been as strong as Emory.
“Don’t know why he wanted it anyway,” Brannon said with a snort. “It was kind of ugly after all that. And it burned me.”
Tallis held out his hands, clearly wanting to check and make sure that Brannon was healing appropriately. “It wasn’t meant to do what you asked of it,” he said, examining the bandages on Brannon’s hands. “That’s why you were hurt.”
“I didn’t ask it to do anything.”
“Yes, you did,” Tallis said. “You asked it to protect you, when you held it up like a shield.” He fingers hovered over the bandages, but stopped short of touching them, afraid he might cause Brannon pain. “It did what you asked, and I’m glad.”
“It just acted like a mirror,” Brannon said.
Tallis couldn’t hold back an amused smile. “Most mirrors are just glass and a bit of silver,” he said. “They would shatter to dust when hit with a spell like that. Yours is made of sterner stuff.”
“I guess so,” Brannon said, then added without conviction, “but it’s not ‘mine’.”
Tallis didn’t bother to challenge this. “So what’s been happening while I was asleep?”
“Not much. Everyone’s been worried about everything. The temple’s been locked up and there’s lots of spells on it now so no one can steal anything else. Your friends have been really worried about you. And that big important priest is here,” he said, “so Elder has been skulking around,” he added, sounding like he was enjoying this very much.
Tallis grinned. “Which important priest?”
“The big important one. With the narrow eyes and the funny purple robes.”
“The Sheng Yin,” Tallis informed him, rather amused at Brannon’s willful ignorance on the hierarchy of the old religion. “He’s the head of this religion, you know.”
Brannon’s nose wrinkled. “He’s a conceited jerk.”
“And purple really isn’t his color,” Tallis agreed, with a huff of laughter.
“Well,” Brannon said, with considerable reserve, “it’s the Imperial color. I imagine it’s expected of him to wear it.”
“He isn’t part of the Imperial family,” Tallis said, “and he looks like an eggplant.”
Brannon giggled, a sound that made Tallis feel f
ar more rested and healed than any potion could. “Would I look like an eggplant in purple?” he asked. “Elder keeps trying to put me in purple and make me sing.”
Tallis felt a surge of jealousy and pushed it back. He pictured Brannon in the formal purple kimono of the Emperor and thought the boy would look nice in it, once he was a few years older. Boys, as far as Tallis was concerned, never looked comfortable in formal attire. “I think you’d look just fine in purple. But don’t sing unless you want to. Who does he want you to sing for?”
“Everyone,” Brannon said, much aggrieved. “He’s all impressed with me ‘cause I helped you get the Mirror back, or at least he’s pretending he is.”
“You did a very good thing hiding it like that,” Tallis told him. “But if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll . . . I don’t know, put a permanent tracker spell on you or something.”
“I’m sorry,” Brannon said, looking down at his blankets, clearly ashamed of himself for running away. “I knew I shouldn’t sneak off. I was just upset.”
Tallis held out an arm, in a clear invitation for Brannon to sit with him instead of at the end of the bed. “I know it’s been hard for you, seeing us come and go to all sorts of places while you were stuck here. But you’ll get to see more of the world soon.”
“I don’t know.” Brannon crawled to Tallis’ end of the bed and nestled down into his embrace. “Elder and the interesting priest and the eggplant keep having big, serious discussions and whenever I walk in, they shush up.”
“Father Jaron will win,” Tallis assured him. “I already promised you I’d take you to the Warder Academy, and he won’t make me into a liar.”
“I’ll just sneak out after you if Elder won’t let me go,” Brannon declared with comfortable cheer.
“I know you would,” Tallis said, pretending to be put upon.
Brannon laughed. “What do you think happened to Emory?” he asked.
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