The Prodigal Mage Part 16

Asher hadnt thought to find himself back in the royal crypt so soon. After leaving Darran to sleep here, hed thought he were done with the place. It prodded him in old, half-healed wounds he needed to leave alone. Not just for his sake, but for everyone elses too. It was those closest to him, the ones he loved best, Dathne and the sprats and Pellen, who suffered when a black mood came on him like a southeast winter sea storm.

But since when did my druthers get noticed, eh? he asked Gars still, stone face. Never, I reckon. So nowt much has changed.

Glimfire, flickering, seemed to reveal Gars lips quirking in a wry, reproving smile.

Asher, Asher. Petulance doesnt become you.

Startled, he looked around. Thought for a moment hed see Gar standing behind him, warm, living flesh instead of cold white marble. But no. He was alone.

Petulant? he said, and snorted. I aint petulant. Im fratched. And I reckon Ive a right, Gar. This were sposed to be over. You and me, I thought we ended it.

No reply. He didnt expect one. Gar was dead, and the dead did not speak.

For a long time he stood there, brooding. Dathne had offered to come with him so he didnt have to face without her what was hidden in Gars coffin. But hed said no, because he had no idea how long hed be here. And her coming with him wouldve meant leaving Rafe and Deenie in the Tower with only Cluny to call on if Rafe woke from a bad dream, tormented by the uneasy earth. Remembering his sons tale of the river-pond, Rafes wide eyes and pinched face, he felt his belly gripe tight.

I got to stop this. I got to. It be hurting my boy.

Reluctant, resentful, he used a Doranen spell of compulsion to ease aside the coffin lid, with its effigy, just far enough for him to fit his hand and arm within. He held his breath as the lid shifted, fearful of being a.s.saulted by something foul, the heartbreaking stench of decay and corruption but instead he caught the faint, sweet scent of flowers. Pamarandums, best favoured by Nix in the rooms of the dead. Holze and Pother Nix between em had done right by Gar. He was whole. He was clean. Time had left him alone.

Closing his eyes, feeling his hearts dull thud within his broad rib-cage, he eased his hand into Gars burdened coffin.

Mayhap hidin that b.l.o.o.d.y diary in here werent such a crackin good idea after all.

When his fingers brushed against Gars linen wrappingsagainst Garhe felt his belly heave in revolted protest. Had to press his fisted left hand hard to his lips, his teeth, to keep the surging bile at bay. Where was the sinkin b.l.o.o.d.y thing? It had to still be here. No-one knew what hed done. It couldnt not be here.

On a sharply indrawn breath, almost a sob, the sweet pamarandum scent turning sour in his throat, he scrabbled blindly for the diary, skinning his knuckles on the coffins smooth side and floor as he poked and prodded and slid his fingers into places he couldnt bear to think on closely.

Come onstop hidingcome on He nearly shouted when at last he touched the diarys ancient leather cover, smooth and cool after ten years in the dark. s.n.a.t.c.hing it hard, he pulled, desperate to be done with this. Grunted in pain as he banged and bruised his hand on the coffin lid dragging Barls secrets into the light.

Sweating, breathing harshly, he stared at the small, unremarkable book that in Durms arrogant hands had seen a prophecy fulfilled and a kingdom brought perilous close to destruction. Seen lives ruined. Villages smashed to bits and pieces. Seen the helpless innocent made widows, widowers and orphans, and bodies piled high in the streets like corded firewood.

So much death. So much ruin. All cause one man couldnt leave well enough alone.

But it were done, and couldnt be undone, and Barl knew Durm had paid a terrible price for his pride.

Easing himself backwards until his shoulder blades and spine touched Fanes cool, quiet tomb, he beckoned a hovering ball of glimfire closer and started leafing through Barls diary. Not to read the actual entries, because to his Olken eye they were nowt more than chicken scratchins in the dirt. But Gars scribbled translations were still stuck between its pages, so he read those. Well, some of them. He didnt need to read the translated warspells. Didnt even want to look at them. Instead, for the first time, he read the other bits and sc.r.a.ps, memory stirred by Gars neatly fluent penwork.

Remembrances of the Doranens battle to cross over the mountains the lands they travelled through, the peoples they encountered. Grief at the loss of friends, of children relief at finding such a pliable people, the Olken the fateful bargain theyd struck. The words of Making and UnMakingsink me, I b.l.o.o.d.y remember thatand the spell that had let Durm see through the Wall, that brought Morg into the kingdom, sealing their fates Page after page, and no mention of the Weather map or how the Weather Magic worked its will. Eyes hot and gritty, feeling as though sand were trapped under their lids, Asher read and read starting to feel desperate as the sc.r.a.ps of Gars scribbling mounted up, with no answers. There hadnt been time to translate every last page of the diary, true, but surely, surely, if hed been able to translate the history, which didnt matter a b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.n, then Gar wouldve bothered to translate the important bits, the magic. It werent like he didnt know the magic mattered most.

Except it looked ezackly like that, cause eventually he got to the last hastily scrawled page and hed not found a single useful word.

Disbelieving, despairing, he let the diary drop into his lap. Stared at the stone effigy hed created with such care. Gar, Gar, you fool. You b.l.o.o.d.y barnacle. Why didnt you realise Id need that magic one day!

Gar, being dead, or canny, had nowt to say for himself.

Muscles cold and stiff, his joints seized up, Asher levered himself to his feet, groaning, letting the diary tumble to the crypt floor, and stamped about relieving his temper with unbridled bad language.

When he was calm enough to think clearly he dropped onto the edge of Darrans coffin, taking mild pleasure in knowing itd make the ole trout curse and cuff.

All right, then, he said, glaring at Gars silent effigy. You werent the only b.l.o.o.d.y scholar in Lur, were you? Theres other Doranen studied the kind of claptrap you liked. Old books and poems and the way you folk used to talk. Barlsman Jaffee, hes nigh on cross-eyed from readin. I could show him the diary, couldnt I? I could trust him with it, dont you reckon? Hes a b.l.o.o.d.y Barlsman. All that piety. If I swore him to secrecy hed have to keep his word, eh? Wouldnt he?

He wanted to think so. But then, Durm had been Bornes Master Magician, hadnt he? The most powerful, most important mage after the king. n.o.body knew better than Durm the dangerous muck in Barls diary. And what did he do with it? He let Morg in through the back door.

So no. He didnt dare even trust Barlsman Jaffee. Which meant hed have to try and sort the problem on his own. b.l.o.o.d.y wonderful. As if he had the first idea what to do He scowled at Gars serene stone face.

Dont know where you are, or if you can hear me, but just in case? A bit of help about now wouldnt go astray.

Silence. Shadows. The dull beating of his heart.

Right, he said. So thats that. Lucky me, eh? He shook his head. All I ever b.l.o.o.d.y wanted was a fishin boat of my own He returned the diary to its hiding place. Magicked the coffin lid back where it belonged. Took a moment to honour Borne and Dana and pull faces at Fane. Tweaked Darrans stone nose, just cause he could. Then, with a final frown at Gar, he doused all but one ball of glimfire and left the royal crypt without it bobbing overhead.

The earlier high cloud cover had cleared, leaving a night full of stars and a fat moon. Theyd not had rain in nearly three weeks. He stared at the humped darkness of the mountains. Even after all this time he sometimes found himself surprised that the golden wash of Barls Wall was absent. If he closed his eyes he could see it, that curtain of magic cutting Lur off from the rest of the world.

If someone had asked him, scant weeks ago, whether he was sorry it was destroyed hed have said Are you b.l.o.o.d.y daft? Of course not. Without thinking twice. Because until a few weeks ago hed believed life was good, and they were safe, and the future smelled sweet. But that were a few weeks ago. Now the land was losing its balance men like Fernel Pintte were stirrin trouble round the edges and the safety of a kingdom sat fair and square on his shoulders. Again.

And if bein fratched on that means I be b.l.o.o.d.y petulant, then fine. I can live with bein petulant, Gar. But I aint sure I can live with not bein able to fix whats gone wrong with Lur.

And on that bleak thought, he doused the glimfire and headed back to the Tower.

Dathne woke to the cold kiss of snow on her face.

Asher, she whispered, rolling towards him. Asher, wake up.

He didnt stir. The moonlight shafting through the partly curtained window glittered silver on the flakes of ice falling gently from the grey cloud hed created, dreaming, beneath their bedchambers frescoed ceiling.

Asher, she said again, as the delicate snowflakes danced and drifted and tangled, melting in her hair. Asher.

The first time this happened, in her bedroom above the bookshop, it had changed her life in a heartbeat. Since then the power in his blood had stirred to life many times in his sleep. In dreams he had no defences against it and Weather Magic was the most powerful of all. Waking he could deny it, and did, no matter how hard that was.

But it would notcould notbe denied forever.

She rested her hand on his tense shoulder. Asher. Its snowing. You need to wake up.

He flinched at her touch, his head restless on the pillow. Glinting beneath his tight-closed eyelids, a hint of fresh blood. She had to be careful. She couldnt wrench him awake. Once, shed done that, and had hurt him so badly hed stayed painwracked and bedridden for two long, dreadful days.

Asher can you hear me? she whispered, and stroked her fingertips down his cheek. Come back now. Come back to me. Let it go. Come back.

Her voice always roused him. He always came back, hearing it. At least he always had before. But he wasnt hearing her this time. Even as she watched, she saw his moonlit face twist. Heard his breathing harshen, and deepen, and saw his fingers clutch at their blankets.

Asher, she said, concern sliding towards fright. Please, my love. Please. Wake up.

A gust of cold air swirled round the chamber. The falling snow swirled with it, stinging as it struck her face and lashed her eyes.

And then she nearly screamed, because around their comfortable bed the air was starting to shiver. Something dark and terrible was sliding over her skin. Shed felt this before shed seen it ten years ago Asher! she cried, and thumped him with both fists, desperate. Asher, youre calling warbeasts! Asher, wake up!

Cruelly wrenched from magic, Asher came clawing awake. No mere hint now, the blood dripped freely from both eyes and his nose, too, splattering the white sheets and fouling his face.

What? What? he said, flailing. I cant see! Whats amiss?

As the air curdled around them, thick with snow and fire, crowded with monstrous shapes taking slow, writhing form, she clapped sharply, twice, and brought thought to life. Flooded their chamber with glimfire, then seized his face between her hands.

Look, Asher! Look! she said, and forced his gaze where she needed it. Stop this. Youre awake now. Stop dreaming.

On a choked cry of pain he jerked free of her tight grasp and sat up. Stared in horror at the warbeasts hed unwittingly summoned.

Luk rana! Rana! he commanded hoa.r.s.ely, waving one arm. Rana!

The warbeasts vanished, taking the wild snow with them.

Groaning, he fell back to the pillows. Pressed both hands flat to his bloodied face, shaking, each shuddering breath hurting him like knives.

Just as shaken, Dathne slumped beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other pressed to her heart. Pound any harder and it would pound right through her thin chest.

You all right, Dath? said Asher, m.u.f.fled, still hiding behind his hands. Those things didnt hurt you?

No, she whispered, and was shamed to hear weeping in the word. Asher what happened? Youve never done that before.

That b.l.o.o.d.y diary, he said, and let his hands slide. Beneath the smeared blood his face was chalk-white. Reading it stirred me up good and proper, I reckon.

Threading her fingers through his sweaty, disordered hair she bent down and kissed him. Tasted iron and salt, his blood on her tongue. It wasnt your fault.

He shook his head, squinting in the bright glimlight. Seeing that, she dimmed it. Ashamed of herself because less light brought relief. Meant his pain and fright were shadowed. Hidden. She couldnt bear to see him hurting and scared. Shed been so fierce and strong, once but love had made her soft. Sometimes she thought the old Dathne, whod had the visions, whod planned to poison Timon Spake, whod sacrificed everything and everyone in the service of prophecy sometimes she thought that Dathne was a dream.

Course it be my fault, Asher said, always so unforgiving. I called the b.l.o.o.d.y things, didnt I? Then he grunted, a small sharp sound of pain. Feels like my heads goin to blow right apart.

Oh, Asher She kissed him again. Im sorry. I tried to wake you gently but You did right. What were needful. He looked at her, and broke her heart. Always feared I might do that some day. Call them warbeasts out of the past. Theyre in me, Dath. Theyre in me and I cant rip em out. What if I call em again? What if I cant stop em next time?

Dont, she said, and pressed her fingers to his blood-smeared lips. Youre tormenting yourself for nowt. Youre strong enough to keep the magic under control. You are. This was one time. One time. There wont be another.

Groaning, he sat up. Wrapped his arms tight around her and buried his face against her neck. Tremors ran through him, born not just of pain, but fear as well. She held him with all the strength in her body, poured all her love into him.

Its all right its all right she murmured. Asher, its all right.

The chamber door flew open, and Rafe barrelled in. You gotta come! he panted. Quick! Deenies having a conniption!

Really, said Lady Marnagh, frowning at her neatly interlaced fingers, I dont have any objection to the proposal, in principle. In principle it seems sensible, and practical, and would certainly ease the workload on the Justice Hall staff. And it does seem to be in keeping with the other changes weve made these past years. She turned a little in her chair. Do you see any spiritual obstacles to the General Councils suggestion, Barlsman Jaffee?

Pellen, comfortably sprawled in his own council chair, kept part of his attention on the elderly Barlsman, who never answered a question quickly when slowly was a choice, and kept the rest of it on Asher. Instead of taking his own place at the table he was slouched at a window, brooding into the palace gardens beyond. Had hardly spoken a word through this entire Mage Council meeting, even when their talk had turned to the Bibford fleetsover-fishing of the waters between Lurs west coast and Dragonteeth Reef.

Something was wrong. Something new? From the look an Ashers face, he thought so. Just what they needed another crisis to be dealt with.

Jaffees wheezing, worse now than it had been a few months ago, sounded loud in the hushed meeting chamber. The Barlsman fingered his long, thin braid of devotion, the gold holyring on his thumb catching fire in the sunlight. Thady and Eylin, seated side by side at the wide Council table, exchanged resigned looks and dropped their chins to their chests. Two years each theyd been Olken representatives on the Mage Council. They knew there was no point trying to hurry Jaffee along.

Rodyn Garrick drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Of middle height for a Doranen, and less lightly fleshed than most, his pale blue eyes rarely showed warmth. Not a City-born Doranen, hed been elected to the Council from his country estate near Fiddlers Green, where his family grew grapes for icewine.

This is a temporal matter, he said, in his typically clipped way, clearly tired of waiting for Jaffee. The guidelines laid down six centuries ago clearly mandate that any dispute between a Doranen and an Olken must be satisfied in Justice Hall. I see no reason to alter the arrangement.

Cant say I be surprised to hear that, Rodyn, said Asher, not turning from the window. But think on this, why dont you? For six hundred years, justice for Olken folk fratchin with the Doranen has been decided in a place the Doranen built. Crammed floor to ceilin with statues and paintins and whatnot of Barl. Now, theres folk as think it be past time we let go of habits as seem to favour the Doranen over the Olkenand I reckon they might be right.

Given that you ruled in favor of that Olken farmer and against Ain Freidin, said Garrick, I find that comment laughable.

Pellen swallowed a groan. Not again. Rodyn, please. Ain Freidin was in the wrong and she admitted as much. Lets not sidetrack ourselves into pointless dispute. If we could perhaps Im sorry, but I must protest too, said Lady Marnagh. As Justice Halls administrator I am responsible for its conduct of business. To suggest there has been any unfair dealing is to question my integrity.

Asher flicked her a glance over his shoulder. I aint sayin that, Sarnia.

Then what are you saying?

Im sayin a lot of things were a b.l.o.o.d.y sight easier when we had a royal family. Borne, or Gar, they made their rulin in Justice Hall and n.o.body said boo about it causewellwe was all used to em layin down the law. Life aint so tidy now. Thats what Im sayin.

It will only get untidy if we allow it to get untidy, said Garrick. My objection stands. I see no good reason for any change.

Turning away from the window, Asher fixed the Doranen lord with an incredulous stare. Rodyn, be you blind? Theres been nowt but change since the Wall came down. And like it or not, change aint done with us yet. Not by a long shot.

Garricks thin lips pinched. What are you suggesting? That we discard every last tradition? Abandon centuries of established legal precedent and turn Lur into a judicial free-for-all?

Course not, Asher snapped. But we got to face facts, Rodyn. Your good ole days be dead and gone. We got these days to think on now. And I reckon if one of yours and one of mine get emselves in a brangle, whether magic be involved or not, there aint no harm in em tryin to sort it out first and foremost on their own doorsteps, like good neighbours. If they cant Ill sort the problem for em in Justice Hall, same as always. But we ought to give em first crack, I reckon.

Before Garrick could voice an opinion, Jaffee stirred and cleared his throat. Yes, that seems fair, he p.r.o.nounced, his voice weak and wavering. Blessed Barl never desired to ride roughshod over the Olken people.

Pellen looked at Thady and Eylin. Your thoughts?

They exchanged glances, then Eylin shrugged. I suppose it depends on what you mean, Asher, by sorting it out on their own doorsteps. How certain are we that the Doranen will accept any ruling from an Olken district court?

A ruling agin them, you mean, said Thady dryly. Cant see them complaining about a judgement in their favour.

And you think thats likely, do you? Garrick retorted. An Olken court ruling for a Doranen against one of its own?

Dismayed, Pellen slapped his hand flat to the table. For shame! In this chamber we are sworn to uphold justice for everyone.

True, Pellen, thats our aim, said Eylin. And in this chamber we might, for the most part, be able to forget which of us has dark hair and which of us is blond. But beyond these palace walls, well it isnt always so cut-and-dried.

Shes right, Thady added. I know a mort of folk who believe us Olken wont never stand toe-to-toe with the Doranen until the Doranen yield a time or two.

Folk like Fernel Pintte. Churned with disquiet, Pellen stared at the table. What has been festering in our towns and villages, that Ive not seen? That neither of Lurs Councils have seen? Just how many Fernel Pinttes are out there? He tried to catch Ashers eye, but Asher had turned back to the window. It was clear, at least to him, that the Innocent Mage did not want to be here.

Rodyn Garrick was staring at Thady as though the Citys most prosperous innkeeper, and one of its best mages, had grown another head. Are you serious? he said at last. How have the Doranen not yielded to you, man? Barl save us, weve given back land, weve changed certain laws, we let you do magic, we Let us? echoed Eylin. You let us? When the magic was always ours? When without Olken earth-singing Barl never wouldve been able to Now, now, said Jaffee, raising both hands. I see little advantage in raking over the past. Can we not simply agree that Yes, Barlsman Jaffee, we certainly can agree, said Eylin. A farmer from the Hawsh.o.r.e district, used to wrangling bulls, she had no fear of Barlsmen or any other lofty Doranen. We can agree that while its doubtless difficult for your people to see yourselves knocked off your lofty perches, youd best accept it. As we accepted losing our sovereignty when first you came upon us.

The Doranen saved your lives! spat Garrick. You seem quite eager to forget that small fact.

Tell you what I be eager for, said Asher, mildly enough. I be eager for the lot of you to shut your b.l.o.o.d.y traps.

Pellen covered his mouth so the others wouldnt see his smile. They looked so shocked. Which was silly, really. How long had they known Asher?

Asher favoured them with his most jaundiced stare. You be talkin claptrap, every one of you. Think I aint heard all this before? When the Wall came down, as we were pickin up the pieces after? Think you be the first folk to try rakin over whats well dead and buried? Six b.l.o.o.d.y centuries this kingdom rubbed along just fine, pretty much. And now ten years after Morg you want to tear it to pieces?

Of course we dont, said Thady, glowering. But But? But? Aint no but, said Asher, glowering back at him. Choice is simple, Thady. We get along or we dont. We pull together or we b.l.o.o.d.y pull apart. Take your pick.