The Prodigal Mage Part 2

Father handed him his emptied brandy gla.s.s. Trans.m.u.te it.

What? said Lord Baden, startled. Rodyn, the boys ten. Hes not old enough to Show him, Arlin, said Father. His eyes were glittering. Make a liar out of my dear friend, here.

Yes, sir, he said.

With an apologetic glance at Lord Baden, he balanced Fathers empty crystal gla.s.s on his carefully flattened palm. The brandy-smell lingered, smeared in traces of amber. It tickled his nose. Teased him almost to sneezing. He didnt like its sharp taste in his throat. But that wasnt important. Pleasing Father was important. He let his eyes drift half-closed, and coaxed his idled powers to life. They answered him readily, pliant and supple, and he understood why hed been set to working with the blocks. They were a limbering exercise. One trotted a horse before galloping. This was no different.

Trans.m.u.te the gla.s.s. Into what? Father didnt say, so the choice must be his. A bird, perhaps. He liked birds. He envied them their wings, and the sky.

The trans.m.u.tation incant flowed as easily as Fathers brandy. The sigils were in his fingers, waiting to be released. He felt the air ignite in brief fire. Felt the crystal warm, and melt, and remake itself as he commanded.

Amazing, said Lord Vail, and laughed. Rodyn, thats amazing.

Arlin willed his power to sleep then opened his eyes. Cooling and perfect on the palm of his hand, a crystal falcon. Curved beak open, wings mantled in defiance, it sparkled in the light from the librarys glimfire chandelier.

Hes only ten, said Lord Baden. He was staring at Father, the strangest look on his face. He can do this at ten? As I recall, you struggled with that incant when you were He stopped, and cleared his throat. What else can the boy do?

This and that, said Father, his eyes still frightening. Hes not without promise. But what good is promise, I ask you, when he is chained by the past? When he is bound by outdated prohibitions? Strangled by the fears of inferior men? My friends, Ive sired a mage who could rival Barl herself and who will ever know it?

This is your dream? said Lord Vail. To free Arlin?

Father stood. To free all of us, Ennet. For six hundred years weve cowered like field mice in the wheat, terrified of every shadow that flies overhead. But Morg is dead and all danger died with him. I say the time has come to stop cowering. I say we stand tall and proud in the sun and reclaim our heritage. We are Doranen, my friends. No more shame. No more apologies. No more fear.

Lord Baden was frowning. Stirring words, Rodyn. But what do they mean?

Sarle, said Father, they mean whatever we want them to mean. It is for us to decide. The future of our people is for us to mould, not the Olken. And not Barl either, six hundred years dead. So. Are you with me? Will you help me unlock the cage so our people might be set free?

I dont deny Im tired of answering to Olken, said Lord Vail. And I wont pretend Ive not had my own dreams of unfettered magic. Very well. Im with you, Rodynprovided we act within the law and provoke no violence.

No violence, said Father. A firm resolve only. Sarle?

Lord Baden stared at the crystal falcon. I have doubts, Rodyn. I think this will not be as easy as you imagine.

I dont imagine it will be easy, said Father. But I believe it is right.

Right, Lord Baden murmured. Well. Time will tell, I suppose. He nodded. But Im with you. Weve deferred to the Olken long enough.

Excellent, said Father. Arlin, you can go. And toss that thing in the fire. Crystal baubles are girlish.

There was no point protesting. Yes, Father.

As he pa.s.sed the fireplace on his way to the library door he threw the falcon hed made into the greedy flames. Perhaps one day hed make another. When he was older, his own man, and Father could no longer tell him what to do.

He was very, very careful to close the door quietly behind him.

CHAPTER TWO.

The feeling rolled through him as he wandered the cherry orchard Dathne had seen planted in the palace grounds. Not that there were any cherries to steal yetthe trees hadnt even started to bud. But winter was waning: the merest hint of springtime warmth in the sunshine kissed his cheek. That meant the cherry trees would soon be bursting blossom pink and swelling with fruit. It was a cheerful thought, and hed escaped out here to be cheered. To be alone. Just a s.n.a.t.c.h of peace and quiet in the fresh air, beneath the milky blue sky, before the demands of both Councils and Justice Hall dragged him under again.

And then the sickening surge of wrongness struck him, and he had to clutch at the nearest gnarled tree-trunk to keep his feet. Had to spit saliva to the damp, tangled gra.s.s, bent almost double, and hope he didnt lose his lunch. This was bad. Bad. The worst yet. The first time hed felt it when he werent asleep and trapped in dreams. And that meant he couldnt pretend any more. Couldnt shrug the feeling aside and call it too much apple pie and spiced cream close to bed. This time he had to face the awful truth. Something werent right in their small jewel of a kingdom.

Heart thudding, belly roiling, Asher closed his eyes and waited for the surging sickness to ease.

Sink me, he muttered, cautiously straightening at last. b.l.o.o.d.y sink me.

It was a long, long while since hed felt this afraid.

Wiping his mouth on his jacket-sleeve, he looked around. He was still alone, but since hed told folk where hed be it most likely wouldnt stay the case. That ole trout Darran werent never happier than when there was something to nag about. He needed somewhere he could think this through. Somewhere hed not be found. That n.o.body would ever imagine hed be. But that were easier said than done. Being who he waswho hed become, against his willsuch a place werent so easy to find.

The answer came to him with a nasty jolt.

Barls Weather Chamber.

Of course. Not only cause it were quiet, but His mouth still sour, his heart still thudding, he abandoned the sweet and peaceful orchard and made his way to the one place hed thought never to set foot in again. The place where one Asher had died, and another was born.

Panting a little, brushing dead leaves and forest cobwebs off his wool coat, he stood in the mostly overgrown clearing and stared at the Chamber. So long since hed been here. The day after Morg had brought down Barls Wall, hed come, and never once after.

Ten years now, just gone. Sink me its been that long?

Yes. That long. Because Rafel was ten now and that was how he measured the length of his life: his yardstick wasnt Gars death, or the Walls ruin, but the miracle of his first childs birthing. The promise of a future untainted by prophecy. A future hed not been sure would come to pa.s.s.

In the days and weeks following Morgs destruction, after the fall of Barls Wall, when feelings and fears were still running a mite high, thered been folk who called for this Weather Chamber to be torn down brick by stone by timber by nail, to be splintered and smashed and burned to rubble and cinders. Ripped from memory, from history, as though it had never been. But hed not agreed to that. Tear this chamber down, and in years to come folk might say it were only a story. The chamber, the magic, the way weather ruled in Lur. Folk might say none of that ever was. Things get made up, they might say. That aint nowt but a lullaby for spratlings.

And that was the time when old mistakes got made fresh.

In the raw aftermath of the kingdoms desolation, with the royal family gone and life turned topsy-turvy, hed had his way. He was Asher of Restharven, whod slaughtered Morg the sorcerer. Anything hed wanted hed got without a fuss. The folk whod bayed for his blood and then owed him their lives were eager to show him how bygones were bygones. No hard feelings. All friends now, eh?

Dont hate them, Dathne had told him. They were weak and afraid, Asher, but theyre not evil. Not like Morg.

Which was true enough. And besides, who was he to point fingers and complain with Gar dead to save him and all those harsh words between them never put right? So hed pushed aside his resentment, the most bitter of his memoriesrotten eggs, cruel jibes, crueler pikestaffs jabbingand done his best to see the kingdom restored to an even keel. Had succeeded, with the help of folk like Dathne and Pellen Orrick and those in the Circle whod not been lost along with Veira.

And now here he stood, staring at the Chambers rough-hewn blue stonework, at the gla.s.s dome atop it, knowing in his bones Lur was in trouble, again.

Fighting down misery, sick with resentment, he stamped his feet to warm them and then stamped inside.

The domed chamber was ezackly as Morg left it the day he died, with its circular wall still covered in charts and scribblings, legacy of that lost time when Barls will had ruled every life in Lur. Her magic map of the kingdom still took up most of the scuffed floor-s.p.a.ce, too, nearly all of it spoiled by Morgs vicious meddling. Hard to stomach, that was. Of everything Barl made, her Weather map was the most beautiful. It had enchanted him even when hed been bludgeoned to moaning stillness by her Weather Magic but now only a few sc.r.a.ps of its beauty remained.

Even though hed come here to worrit and brood, he smiled at the s.p.a.cious, gra.s.s-covered Dingles and the scattering of tiny untouched towns and villages. They were frozen, of course. Trapped between heartbeats, a forever reminder of the moment Barls Wall fell, and how that fall sundered the ancient marriage of weather and world.

He reached down to touch the Weather maps nearest edge. Just to give thanks. To acknowledge Barl and all shed done. For six hundred years shed kept them safe and well. What happened ten years ago werent her fault. His fingertip made contact, lightlyand a sparking of power leapt through his blood where the Weather Magic slept fast, undisturbed for years.

Shocked, he pulled his hand back.

No. That aint possible. Barls magic died. Didnt me and Dath and the rest of us feel her magic die? Didnt we see it die when Morg brought down her Wall?

Heart thudding hard again, blood woken and singing, he touched the Weather map a second, cautious time. Let his fingers rest there as he held a long, deep breath. Yes. He could feel something. Barl werent quite dead yet.

Or was it nowt but an echo? A taunting from the past, from a brief time when hed been lord of this place, Lurs weather, its magica king in everything but name.

Not that I ever wanted that, mind. Not that I did it for myself.

No. Hed done it for Gar, a good man. For their unlikely friendship. To thwart a man he didnt like. For reasons that mayhap didnt matter any more. Hed done it and hed paid the price. And unlike some others, hed lived to never tell that tale.

Oddly, the desperation of those dark days had mostly faded. He could remember being terrified. He recalled how trapped and put-upon hed felt. Thered been panic. Confusion. An endless wail of why me?

Of course, hed been young then. Fractious and b.l.o.o.d.y-minded. He was older now. A married man, a father twice over, reluctant head of Lurs Mage Council and sought-after voice on its General Council. Defender of the law in Justice Hall. Hed never wanted to be a leader, but ten years on still n.o.body asked what he wanted. Didnt matter he never cared for it, he had the knack of bein in charge. And after the Wall fell, and folk were so fratched and disordered, even the Doranen, they needed someone to boss em. To chivvy em down the road in the right direction. Besides after how hed saved em no-one wanted to let him go. They refused to believe they could get along without him. So hed stayed in Dorana City, even though he was desperate for the clean ocean. It was the only way he could think of to make his amends to Gar.

But it dont make me king, no matter what that ole fart Darran says.

Any road, it werent a bad life. How could he call it a bad life when he had Dathne and Rafel and little Deenie to love? When he had good friends like Pellen Orrick, and a purpose worth serving? An ungrateful b.a.s.t.a.r.d hed be, if he sat on his a.r.s.e whingin on how he didnt have the whole world his own way. Thatd make him no better than that dead sea-slug Willer.

And if ever he woke from dreams of snowstorms, of gentle rain falling and the turbulence of sprouting seeds, of Weather Magic like boiling wine scouring his veins, well no life got itself lived without there werent some small regrets.

Beneath his resting fingers Barls map whispered and hummed. Not just an echo, but a real sizzle of power. Breathing out a slow sigh he drew back his hand a second time, then closed his eyes. Time surged like stormswell, and surging with it a single, searing memory: his first WeatherWorking.

He watched his shaking fingers draw the sigils as a voice he scarcely recognised recited the raincalling incantation. Watched the sigils burst into fiery life. Saw blue flames dance up and down his arms. Felt magics wind rise, gently at first, then stronger, and stronger still, till it buffeted him like stormbreath racing inland over the open sea. His blood bubbled with a power that remembered the ocean. He couldnt have stopped even if hed wanted to.

Barl save him. He didnt want to.

The air above the map begin to thicken. Darken. The power hed raised gave tongue in rumbling thunder and tearing cracks of lightning. He was hot and cold all at once. Shaking and utterly still. His body tingled, like the kissing of a hundred pretty girls. His hair spat sparks, and his fingers, and all the world shimmered bright and blue.

Then the rain burst forth and the world washed blue to red in a heartbeat as his blood exploded through the confines of his flesh, poured burning from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. And everywhere he turned there was pain.

Shouting, heart banging his ribs, Asher staggered back from the map. There was sweat on his face, running hot down his spine. He touched his nose, his eyes, then stared at his fingertips, expecting to see them daubed with blood.

They were clean.

Blotting his forehead on his woollen sleeve, he paced around the room, carefully not looking at Barls ruined map. Slowly, too slowly, the woken pains in his body slunk away to hide. His breathing eased. The vivid, wrenching memory receded.

All done now. All done. I aint livin that madness any more.

Sink me, he muttered, listening to the uneven thud of his boot heels on the scratched parquetry floor. Dont do that again, ygawpin great fool.

His voice sounded shocked and ragged, breaking the silence. And then he heard swift footsteps on the Chambers stone spiral staircase.

Asher? Are you up there? Asher!

Dathne.

She came through the open doorway and stopped short, seeing his face. Jervales mercy, are you all right?

He could cross Barls b.l.o.o.d.y Mountains himself and vanish in the shadows, fall into an endless, lightless abyss, sink himself to the bottom of Westwailing Harbourand he reckoned shed still find him. Shed come to drag him home. She was home, and always would be.

Im fine, Dath, he said, halting. Dont tell her. No need for her to be scared. Not yet. Im justjust hidin from Darran.

Dathnes gaze was keen. Darran and Rafe are book-buying down in the City.

Ah, he said. Good. Im safe a while, yet.

Still Dathne stared at him, skeptical. Hmm.

Ten years and two spratlings later, she hadnt changed a whit. Sometimes, caught looking at her, he thought hed see Matt any moment, so like her younger self did she seem to his eye. The Dathne of Doranas Market Square, that first day, and the Dathne who frowned at him now, they were the same woman. Small and lean and lithe, dark hair long and careless, clothes careless too. An important Olken shed become, but youd never know it to look at her. She wore silk like tired cotton and laughed when he gave her jewels.

Asher Dathne crossed the empty s.p.a.ce between them and rested her palms against his chest. Tilted her head back to stare up into his face. This isnt about Darran.

A strand of hair escaped from braided confinement tickled her sharp-boned cheek. He curled it round his finger and tugged, gently. Course it is.

Asher, she said, pinching his chin between her thumb and forefinger, dont treat me like a fool. No-one comes to this Weather Chamber. Not any more.

You knew where to find me.

She smiled. When she smiled like that she near melted his bones. Well yes. Im Jervales Heir, remember? Lightly her fist punched above his drubbing heart. Or used to be. Her glorious smile faded, leaving her face and eyes sombre. Shimmering with fear. So no more games, my love. I know why you came here.

And she did, he could see it. Feel it. But he didnt want her to say it aloud. Once the words were spoken, what hed felt in the cherry orchard, in his dreams, would be trueand he didnt think he was ready to face this truth. Ten years of peace, theyd had, and continued prosperity.

Ten years aint long enough. We deserve longer than that.

Somethings stirring in Lur, she said, a hint of sudden tears in her voice. Somethingnot right. Its been making you restless at night. And a little while agothat same sense of unease, stronger than ever. Dont tell me you didnt feel it too, for I wont believe you.

As always, she stole his breath. Was there any part of him that stayed hidden from this woman? From before hed even laid eyes on her shed known more of him than he ever knew of himself. But he hadnt realised shed been feeling things too. That were irksome. How come she could always hide from him when he almost never managed to hide from her?

If you been feelin this, Dathne, why aint you said so? He sounded accusing, and didnt much care. Mayhap if they fratched a little theyd not talk about what frighted him.

I wanted to be wrong, she whispered, turning away. A breath caught in her throat, a small, stricken sound, and she turned back. Id give anything to be wrong. But I knew from the first I wasnt. Whats causing it? Do you know?

Since the day he killed Morgand Garhed hardly ever used the power in him, that hed never asked for or wanted. There was no need for it. What he did in both Councils and Justice Hall, that were thinking and talking and wheedling folk to see things sensible. A man didnt need magic for any of that.

But lately, it felt like his magic was stirring anyway.

Wakin up in a sweat in the small hours. Feelin the earth groan. Knowin Lurs earth-songs gone and changed its tunethat, too. All of its magic, whether I like it or not.

I aint sure, Dath, he said. Thats the truth.

She was frowning. Its not the Doranen, is it? Its not that arrogant Ain Freidin still thinking shes another Barl?

I dont reckon so. The fuddlin she were up to, that couldnt upset the earth. And she swore blind to me her lesson was learned. Besides, I aint heard from Farmer Tarne that hes lost any more crops and its been nigh on a month since the b.l.o.o.d.y woman was found out.

Still Dathne hugged her ribs. Dont stop watching her, Asher. Shes not to be trusted.

I know, he said. I aint recalling our man just yet.

Even though that didnt make life on the Mage Council with Rodyn Garrick any easier. Theyd already had sharp words, Garrick making it plain he didnt care for an Olken taking a Doranen to task over magic. When he learned Ain Freidin was being watched he near frothed himself into a spasm. But the rest of the Mage Council had over-ruled his objection.