The Prodigal Mage Part 23

But could she trust him to honour her fear? If Pintte and Garrick failed in Westwailing, as seemed most likely, and Lurs strife made good on its threat to tear the kingdom apartcould she trust him not to try WeatherWorking their way out of trouble a second time?

Of course I cant. Hes Asher.

My love, she said. I want your word on something. No matter what happens on the coast, promise me youre done with Weather Magic. On the lives of your children, promise me you wont touch that Weather map again.

Wearily he shook his head. Dath Promise me.

All right, he said, after a terrifying silence. I promise.

She smiled, tightly. I dont care if he resents me. I dont care what he does so long as he doesnt go back to that b.l.o.o.d.y Weather Chamber. Good. Now Id best get busy packing, since were off to the coast.

Ill see to the carriage and horses, said Asher. And after that, reckon Ill wander down and have a few words with Pellen. He likes the company, and h.e.l.l want to know about Pintte and Garricks plan.

She frowned. Hes supposed to be resting. If you wear him out with politics and gossip, Asher, h.e.l.l never Trust me, Dath, h.e.l.l be a sight more fratched not knowin whats what. Last thing Pellen wants is to be left out.

And that was true too. She sighed. Just be home in time for supper. Or youll have Cook out of sorts and youre not the one who has to listen to her griping.

She turned to leave a second time, and for a second time he stopped her. Dath Twenty years was a long time to live with a man. She knew him as she knew herself. Too well for comfort, sometimes. Too well to lie. You cant, Asher, she said softly. I know you want him to think well of you, always. But ask yourself this, my love. Will it help Rafe or hurt him to know about the Weather map? When theres nothing he can do with it? When theres nothing he can do for you? She took a consoling step towards him. He might not admit it, but hes frighted like the rest of us. Rafe knows you. He loves you. Youve not lost him over this. He knows better than anyone youre not a coward.

He tried to smile. You reckon?

I do. Now go cheer up Pellen. Give him my best. She darted back to him and kissed him lightly on the lips. And dont forgetI love you too.

She left him alone then, for he wasnt a man to weep easy in company. Not even when the company was his wife of twenty years.

Until the day Morg tried to destroy Dorana, the alehouse that stood on this spot was called the Green Goose. According to them as remembered, it had been the favourite watering spot for all the palace and Tower staff. Da used to drink and rowdy and play knucklebones there three or four nights a week, so folk said. But the alehouse burned down on the day Morg died, and the innkeeper had burned with it along with his family.

The new alehouse built in its place was named the Dancing Bear. Gooses da brewed the ale for it, and sometimes Goose did too now he was trusted alone with the hops and the malt barley and the recipes that won prizes at the annual guild fair.

Still fratched with his father, Rafel brooded over a mug of Goose-brewed pale ale. Two fiddles and a tambourine made cheerful music in the corner, much more to his liking than the noise at Pellens ball. Though a lot had changed in the City, this remained an Olken place. No Doranen drank here. And most of those Olken were sneaking looks over their shoulders at the heros son, in the corner. Looks that suggested disappointment and dismay, that the hero hadnt lifted a finger this time to save them.

Dont blame me. I tried talking to him.

Hey, said Goose, sliding onto the bench opposite. His hair was wet. Would it never stop raining? Got your message. Whats wrong?

He shrugged. Nowt. Didnt feel like drinking alone, is all. Sour mood easing, just a little, he sat back. How bads the trouble with your da?

Goose waved at one of the barmaids, pulling a face. Lets just say Im not his favourite son.

Goose, youre his only son.

And not his favourite, either.

But you did nowt wrong, Rafe protested. You were trying to help Solly.

Which cost me fifty trins and my name writ down in the Guardhouse, so Goose broke off and smiled at the barmaid. A pint of strong, Flora la.s.s.

Flora dimpled. Yours or your dads?

Mine, said Goose, grinning. Or folk might start to talk. A brewer who wont drink his own ale? Thatll get tongues wagging.

Floras dimples deepened. One pint coming up, Goose.

For a moment Rafe admired the saucy swing of her hips as she returned to the bar. Then he looked back at Goose. Your das a b.l.o.o.d.y fool. He ought to be proud of you, standing up for a friend.

Probably he would be, if it didnt cost me fifty trins, Goose said, resigned. You know what my dads like about money.

Aye, he said, and swallowed more ale. It was a touch sweeter than what Gooses da brewed. But then, Goose was a touch sweeter than his da, so no surprise there.

Waiting for his own tankard, Goose looked around the crowded ale-house. There was laughter, there was gaming, the music was loud and bright, but beneath the jollity was a bitter taint of fear. The rain didnt help, drumming harder than ever on the Bears tiled roof, a constant reminder Lur was falling apart.

I heard what the mayor and Lord Garrick are planning, said Goose, lowering his voice. Is it true? Have we got no choice but to trust in them?

The sweet ale in his belly turned abruptly sour. Looks that way.

But Rafe Goose chewed at his lip, as dismayed as all the other Olken in the place. Your dads the WeatherWorker, he Thats what he was, Goose. I dknow what he is now.

Floras return with Gooses tankard broke the shocked silence. Thanks, la.s.s, Goose said, subdued, and fished some coins out of his pocket for her. After she left them, he leaned across the scarred table. Rafe, whats wrong?

Rafel put down his own tankard and scrubbed a hand across his face. I didnt mean to say that. I didnt mean to Nowt, he muttered. Leastways nowt I want to talk on.

You still feelin bad? said Goose, all quick sympathy. I thought things had eased off a bit. Ive heard other Olken, strong mages, say how things have eased off.

They have, he said tiredly. Youre right, the earth aint howling so loud. Probly cause it had nigh on howled itself to death. But he wasnt strong enough for that conversation. Not tonight. So aye. Im feeling better. For now.

Goose nodded. Thats good. Rafe Theyd been friends so long he didnt need for Goose to finish. No. Theres nowt I can do to fix whats gone wrong. Da wont let me.

Rafe Goose rubbed his nose. Your dads only trying to protect you.

Rage flashed through him. Did I ask him to? he said, leaning across the wooden bench, fist thudding. I never did, Goose. I never b.l.o.o.d.y asked and now, when I could make a difference? With the power thats in me? Sitting back, he gulped the rest of his ale. Im no more use than t.i.ts on a bull.

Any road, said Goose, at last, uncomfortable. At least youre not feeling so sick. He swallowed more of his own ale. Belched. I came past the Chapel on the way here. Blazing with lights, it was. Full of folk in service with Barlsman Jaffee. His gaze drifted around the noisy room. Seems to me these days were either praying or drinking.

Those aint our only choices, Goose, he said, and levered himself to his feet. His head buzzed muzzily, sloshing full of ale. We can gamble, too. Lets find us a game of knucklebones. Im in the mood to wager big.

They joined a round started up by a few lads as worked the Livestock Quarter, and soon enough one or two others, old school friends, joined them. Raucous and riotous, they hooted, hollered and traded cuicks and trins back and forth, tossed the yellowed knucklebones, accused each other of ham-fisted cheating, laughed and pretended all was right with the world.

Then Rafel looked up at the clock above the bar, and saw he was in danger of getting home late for supper. Leaning sideways, he took a deep breath and bawled into Gooses ear.

Times shifting. I gotta go.

Cheerfully ale-sloshed, Goose nodded. All right. But come by the brewery first thing tomorrow, why dont you? Were shorthandedand youve got nothing better to do.

The words were meant friendly and teasing, but they stuck him like pins. Nothing better to do. Aye, and wasnt that the truth? I aint Goose. I dont want to be a brewer. All I want to be I cant. And I still dont know what to do about that. But that wasnt Gooses fault and sweating in the brewery was one way to kill time and earn himself some coin.

Aye, he said. Ill be there.

Once outside the alehouse, he turned up his coat collar. The rain had eased to a mizzle, and the empty cobbled streets were slick and treacherous under foot. Their glimlamps sparked and sputtered, struggling as theyd struggled ever since the night of Uncle Pellens ball, and the storm that ripped Lur out of its warm, safe coc.o.o.n.

But he didnt want to think on that, either, so he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and started walking back home. Prodded by what Goose had said, he didnt take the back streets this time, but crossed over to Market Square to find the Chapel still blazing with glimlight and folks stood on the steps cause they couldnt fit inside. And there was singing. Beautiful singing. Hymns to Barl. He stood in the Squares shadows, listening, and bit by bit his lingering anger faded. Soothed by sweet voices instead of Gooses sweet ale.

After a while he realised he wasnt alone. Looking sideways he saw Da standing a bit distant, listening with him.

Been sittin with Pellen, Da said, his own gaze not moving from the chapel. Chewin over this and that.

Uncle Pellen hadnt set foot out of his house since that night in the Guildhouse. Rafel felt the worry of it tickle his throat. He feeling better?

Da shook his head. No.

So Kerrils right? he said harshly. Hes dying?

We all be dyin, sprat, said Da. Just some of us faster than others, is all.

That wasnt the answer hed been expecting. Thanks, Da. Thats right cheerful of you.

Da snorted. Yknow you be late for supper?

He tipped his face to the cloud-smudged night sky, feeling the mizzle harden, hinting at more rain. So are you.

Aye, said Da, still thoughtful. So you and me got that much in common.

They had magic in common too, only he was sposed to pretend they didnt. Anger stirred againbut he was too full of ale and weariness to brangle, so he held his tongue.

Im goin down to Westwailing, said Da. Your ma and Deenie are comin too. Reckon you should ride with us. Reckon you should see for yself what comes of faddlin with things as are best left alone.

Da He swung round. Whyd you have to put it that way? Why cant you say youre going down to Westwailing to show support for the mayor and Lord Garrick?

Cause that aint why I be goin, said Da, with a careless shrug.

Youre going so you can sneer and say afterwards I told you so? he demanded, incredulous. Da, thats mean.

Da looked at him, his face patchworked with glimfire shadows and his eyes gleaming bright and hard. Im goin so Ill be there when things go sinkin wrong, Rafel. Im goin so mayhap I can save them fools when arrogance looks like costin em their lives. Im goin Da stopped. Took a few deep breaths. Im goin, he said more quietly, in case theres a chance I can talk em out of this afore they start.

You wont, he said. Their minds are made up, Da. As made up as yours.

I know, said Da, his voice almost a whisper. But I got to try, sprat. How will I live with mself if I dont b.l.o.o.d.y try?

He sounded so lost. So hurt. Shaken, Rafel stared at him. That aint my da. Asher of Restharven doesnt sound like that.

Come on, sprat, said Da, and like magic he was himself again. Brisk. Confident. Careless of the world and its feelings. Best we t.i.ttup home again so your ma can crack a wooden spoon over our heads. Fierce set on tidy supper times, your ma. Nasty bad habit that, but she wont give it up.

Though he was temper-churned and restless, still he had to laugh. All right.

Leaving the Chapel and the singing in the wet night behind them, they started walking towards the High Street, and home.

Da, he said, as the voices lifted plaintive towards the hidden stars. Dyou believe in all that?

All what? said Da, steadily tramping.

Suddenly he felt awkward. Embarra.s.sed. But hed started it, so hed have to keep going. You know. Chapel. Praying. Barls mercy. Dyou think shes real?

She was real, Da said, after a moment. She were a flesh and blood woman, Rafe. She lived and breathed and walked these streets.

I know that. Why couldnt Da ever just answer a question? But now? Dyou reckon shes watching over us now? Hears us praying? Does what we ask?

Da grunted. Theyd reached the steep part of High Street, where it tilted straight towards the palace ground gates. Walking fast was a puffing business.

Aint that a question for the likes of Barlsman Jaffee?

I already know what he thinks. I want to know what you think. I want to know if If we be foolin ourselves, prayin? Da said, breathing hard. Fillin our bellies with false hope like you filled yours full of ale tonight? Da shook his head. I dknow, Rafe. Thats the truth. Mayhap we are. Mayhap them folk back there singin their hearts out aint bein heard by n.o.body but us. But if it makes em feel better if it gives em strength to go on when they be frighted does it matter? Folk need somethin to cling to when the waters turn rough.

They are rough, arent they? Lurs in trouble, Da. Real trouble.

Aye, Da said heavily. It surely is.

So when do we leave for Westwailing?

In the damp, ill-lit darkness he could feel his fathers surprise. His cautious pleasure. That means youre comin, does it?

The brewery wasnt going anywhere. He could earn himself some coin there when he got back. Hed send a message to Goose. His friend would understand.

Yes. Im coming.

Well head out tomorrow, early as we can, said Da. I want to get down there afore Pintte and Garrick and them fools they be takin with em turn up. I want some time to get a feel for the place, specially now. I want to see if what they want to do can be done.

And that made him stare, and slow down a bit. And if it can be? Will you help them?

If it can be Ill have to, wont I?

How? Therell be no Olken magic used, Da. Every last spell will be Doranen.

Aye, well, said Da, suddenly cagey. I got me a few tricks up my sleeve.

The trunk. Durms secret spell books and scrolls. The ones he wasnt meant to know about. He nodded, careless. Trying to look innocent.

Thats good, Da. Thats good to know.

They walked in silence the rest of the way home.

At first light next morning, in a steady mizzle, they loaded up their carriage and trundled out of Dorana City, heading for the coastal township of Westwailing.

It was a miserable journey. Thirteen days of patchy rain, high winds, two hailstorms and four more juddering earth tremors. The carriage bogged three times and they broke a wheel once. That happened on a lonely stretch of road between Flat Iron and Slumly Corners. Doranen magic took care of it, since it was Ashers turn to play coachman and there was n.o.body around to see.

Rafel watched his father mend the snapped spokes with absentminded ease and had to walk away, so riled did it make him. One rule for Da and another for him. And his parents wondered why he was so easily fratched.

When at long last they reached Westwailing, with Fernel Pintte and Rodyn Garrick and the rest somewhere on the road behind them, they took rooms at the Dancing Dolphin, still sailing along after so many years.

After that, it was a matter of waiting.