The Prodigal Mage Part 43

Ha. Right.

The thought of him leaving was like knife blades sliding under her skin. Rafe do you have to do this?

And now he shifted his gaze to meet hers. Aye.

If hed shouted at her, like hed shouted at Mama if hed rolled his eyes, tried to make it a joke if he hadnt just looked at her, so serious, so resigned I cant fratch at him. I cant.

Trembly, she dropped onto a handy footstool. Rafe. So that ma.n.u.script. Did you pinch it from Da? That time you did the really tricky magic, remember? Is that when you pinched it?

That was years ago, he said, letting the worn parchment slide onto his lap. What does it matter now?

It didnt. Of course it didnt. Cept he was going away and they hardly ever talked. I know, but She chewed her lip. Did you?

What if I did? he said, looking out of the window where the rain was pouring and the sky flashed with lightning. Who you going to tell?

n.o.body. I just wanted to know. That tricky magic. Did you make it up?

She watched a memory play over his face. Watched some small, secret pleasure ease the strain in his eyes. Sitting so close to him, almost close enough to touch, she could feel his woken power burn. Like a bonfire, flames leaping, licking her with heat.

He nodded. Aye. I made it up. His gaze flicked sideways. Thats a secret.

When was the last time hed trusted her with a secret? When was the last time theyd sat together like this, so cosy? The journey home from Westwailing. Those few moments shed rested her head on his shoulder. And before that? She couldnt remember. They werent close. They never had been. And yet she could feel him, like the blood in her veins.

You been to see Da yet?

In a finger-snap, like magic, his pleasure froze into pain. Aye.

And did you feel it? she said, heart thudding. Whats in him? Please tell me you felt it this time, Rafe. I dont want to be the only one who can feel it.

Sink me, he swore. Deenie Please, Rafe, dont shout. Everythings awful already, dont shout.

He tossed the ma.n.u.script aside, slid out of the window-seat and thumped to his knees on the carpet in front of her. Took her by both shoulders and shook her. Not hard, not to hurt her. He was trying to change her mind.

Deenie, youve got to stop this, he said, so earnest. No, I dont feel any blight in Da. And you dont, neither. Youve got yourself stirred up, is all, the way you did when we were sprats. Dont you remember how it was? Youd wake yourself screaming in the night, pointing at ghosts and ghoulies no-one else could see. Youd swear upside down they were real, but they never were. They were just bad dreams. This aint no different.

That time Da dreamed the warbeasts, she retorted, and knocked his hands aside. That was real.

That was one time, said her brother. You were right once, Deenie. And never again. You cant She scrambled to her feet, tipping the footstool on its side. Shut up, Rafe. Just cause you did some clever magic down in Westwailing you think no-one else can be special? Is that it?

No. But I aint a sprat now, she said, glaring. And I b.l.o.o.d.y well aint dreaming. Why wont you Can Pother Kerril feel it yet? he demanded, and stood. Best pother in the kingdom, she is. Cured folks as were gasping their last. Whats she say, Deenie?

She felt a single tear snail its tickling way down her cheek. I dont care what Kerril says. I feel things, Rafel. Thats what I do.

He stared at her, silent. Outside, the thunder boomed. Lightning lashed the sky. I know, he said at last. Its just I want you to be wrong.

Dont you think I want to be wrong? she whispered. Dont you think Id give anything to be wrong?

And then they both jumped, startled, as a deafening clap of thunder crashed overhead. All the glimfire blinked out, plunging them into darkness.

I got it, said Rafel, and reignited every lamp. Were fine, Deenie.

No, were not. Oh, Rafe, do you feel as awful as I do? She pressed clenched fingers to her chest. Im allbrokeninside.

The earths pain was in his eyes, bright as shattered gla.s.s. Me too.

Its going to be bad like this, over the mountains. Probly its going to be worse.

I know. Deenie Im not saying dont go, she said quickly. I know you have to. Only dont try to pretend you aint afraid. If you stop yourself feeling fear, you might stop yourself feeling other things, Rafe. Things that could keep you alive.

Like what? he said. Fratched and grudging, yes, but at long last listening.

She wanted to lie, but she couldnt. I cant tell. Lurs screaming so loud it makes my head spin.

Beyond the chambers window rain hammered the already hammered Tower gardens. More thunder rumbled, marching somewhere distant. Probly over the Flatlands. That felt about right.

A big b.l.o.o.d.y help you are, he said, scowling. He looked like Da. If youre going to witter warnings at me, Deenie, witter something I can use.

I wish I could, she said. But I dont know how to save you, Rafe. I dont know how to save anyone. Or Lur. All I can do is feel smashed to pieces.

He was her big brother and he loved her. Not easily, she knew that. His love was well-peppered with impatience. Her fears had always gritted him, like sand in his boots just as his brash boldness always made her feel small. But he hugged her now, adrift on the carpet, and she hugged him back. Breathed in the sweat and horse of him, the faint yeastiness of strong ale, the sweet tint of sickroom incense. All the different smells that made him Rafe.

Hes leaving. Hes leaving. I dont want him to go.

Rafe, she said, m.u.f.fled against his shoulder. In that moment knowing everything about him. Dont fret over Mama.

His arms tightened. Shes so fratched at me, Deenie. I thought she was scalded when I rode off for the Home Districts. But now Im going over the mountains His voice cracked. I reckon she might let me ride away without another word.

He was trembling. No, no, she said, holding him harder. Shes frighted for you. We both are. What youre trying to do? And with n.o.body to help you but that Arlin Garrick? Of course were frighted.

Rafel let his arms drop. Took a half step back. I aint getting lost, or worse, over them mountains. Ive got power and Ill use it. His eyes were fierce. Ill burn anyone as gets in my way. Im saving Goose, Im saving Lur, and Im coming back.

She didnt know if he was right. She only knew he thought he was, and that not even Mamas rage and tears would change his mind. Not even Da lying in his bed so still and pale, with the blight in him only she could feel, poisoning his veins. Rafe thought he was born for this and nothing else mattered.

You always were stubborn, she murmured, pressing her palm to his cheek. You always did what you wanted, no matter what anyone said. No matter if you were being naughty or not. She tried to laugh. And most times, Rafe, you were being naughty.

True, he admitted, and covered her hand with his. Then his wry smile faded. Deenie, Ive got things to do. I want to read that ma.n.u.script again. I want to Hesitating, he let his hand drop. Ive got some thinking as needs doing.

He wasnt telling her the exact truth. There was a sudden tartness to him, like the scent of fresh lemons on a warm breeze. Probly he intends on being naughty again. But since she had no hope of stopping him, best she be gracious.

Its all right. How long before the Council gives you formal leave to go?

Im not sure, he said, shrugging. But Ill wager not long. He looked out of the window at the still-bl.u.s.tering storm. Cause Lur aint got long. You and me know that, if n.o.body else does.

True, she said quietly. Lucky us, eh? She tried to smile. Dont work too late. You need your rest.

Deenie Stopped halfway to the door, she turned. Yes?

There were tears in his eyes. Tears. And he looked so young. So vulnerable.

What, Rafe?

He shook his head. Nowt. Nowt. Never mind me. Off you go.

She closed the chamber door behind her, and went downstairs to the kitchen to see if Meistress Watt would let her dabble her hands in some pastry, or something else as might need baking. Maybe that would ease her troubled heart.

But she doubted it. She couldnt imagine feeling untroubled ever again.

As the door shut behind his sister, Rafel breathed deeply a few times. Waited until all he felt was irritated amus.e.m.e.nt. Naughty, Deenie called him. And if he was, what of it? Just like hed told Charismeek men never got anything done.

Still. The word echoed in his memory, niggling, as he slipped into Das library and settled himself on the carpet in front of the trunk containing Durms secret magics. The scrolls and the diaries Da never showed him or even spoke of, even after Westwailing and the waking of his power. So much left unsaid between them. About Westwailing. About a lot of things.

The storm had pa.s.sed but it was still raining. Sheets of water running down the library windowpanes. Hed conjured himself the tiniest ball of glimfire, not enough to alert Mama, who was sitting with Da three rooms round from this one. If he was careful and quiet she wouldnt know he was here. After their shouting match on the stairs he reckoned theyd both be best off not laying eyes on each other till morning.

He rose and looked at his reflection in the watery window, the glimfire shadowing him mysterious and dark. Roiling inside him, so much pain. Lurs. Mamas. Deenies. Pellen and Chariss, too. And his power churned. His woken, hungry, simmering power, that wouldnt obediently go back to sleep. That he didnt understand, and likely now never would.

Da shouldve told me. He shouldve taught me years ago how to control it. I dont know if I can do this alone.

Grief like a bunched fist struck hard, stealing his breath. Eyes burning, throat closing, fire roared in his blood. Guilt like a snowstorm turned his bones to ice. He wasnt naughty, he was wicked, to be angry with Da now, when his father was dying.

Not wanting to look at himself a single heartbeat longer, he turned away from the window and made his way back to the trunk. Dropped to sit cross-legged in front of it. Fuddled the lock, such a simple thing to do now. Easy as sneezing. Was anything beyond him? Easing the trunks lid open, he let the glimfire hover and picked up the first of Durms h.o.a.rded books.

The thing he needed most was a way to protect himself from whatever darkness lurked over the mountains. If the enemy was miasma, blight and foul enchantments, natural things turned lethal like the waterspouts and whirlpools now infesting all of Lurs harbours, then he needed some way of banishing them. Collapsing them. Or shielding himself, at least. But if his enemy was flesh-and-blood, some race of men warped and twisted by Morgs foul magics, or maybe even demons whod not perished when the sorcerer perished, then the spells he was after would have to give him the power to kill. The way Da had killed the day the Wall came down.

I wish I had those magics. I wish they hadnt been lost.

Killing with magic the thought did give him pause. Pushed to it, could he kill a man? Smash him to blood and splinters with nowt more than words? Words and the power burning inside him.

Da did it. And were the same. If it comes down to Lur and some man I dont know if I had to, I could kill.

One by one, reading quickly, he worked his way through Durms books and scrolls. He found spells of compulsion and transformation and deconstruction and repression. Magics that in the wrong hands could cause untold harm. That no Olken would have a chance of resisting, not even if they were strong in the earth like Meister Gamble of the Speckled Rooster in Riddleton. Touched by these magics, Gamble would burn like paper.

Heart pounding, Rafel saw how the spells might be used as weapons. And he needed weapons. Against the darkness, against the mountains. Maybe even against Arlin. So he s.n.a.t.c.hed quill and paper from Das desk and started scribbling down the incants, scribbling any kind of magic that might be turned to his advantage.

He found five different spells for conjuring objects from one place to another. Of course he knew the Doranen did thathed seen itbut it was never an incant hed managed to pinch from Arlin, and though hed tried to fuddle it on his lonesome he could never make it work. Odd, that Da wouldve kept such commonplace spells secret. And then, reading more closely, he saw that while one conjuring spell was for objects, the rest were for the conjuring of living things, small to large. And that would explain them being locked in the trunk. Get one of these wrong He felt himself turn a little queasy, discomfort that had nothing to do with Lurs suffering earth. But he scribbled them down anyway. Better safe than sorry.

Pity we darent risk em to get us over the mountains. Thatd save a few blisters and uncomfortable nights. Cept then folk would know this kind of magic exists and wed likely get ourselves in all kinds of bother.

The next spell he read was for seeing things over long distances. He grinned. That could come in mighty useful. And then he chewed his lip, so tempted. It was late. He was hungry. And he should really make certain these magics would work Closing his eyes, he reached for his power. And there it was, waiting for him, dangerous and beautiful. So beautiful.

Drifting, his blood humming, he looked at the faded-ink words of the incant scrawled in Durms dashing hand. Let its lilting syllables sink into his mind. Breathed them out again, a whisper of words. A single sigil, caressing the air. Thought of the place he wanted to see and was in the Tower kitchen. Glimlit, but empty. He could smell the spicy sweetness of fresh baking. On the wide shelf beside the window, that magical place where Rafel-the-sprat had loved to stand and sniff, a ginger cake on a pottery plate. Moist and golden brown. Still warm. A heady aroma. He heard his belly growl.

So, turning his mind to those other spells, he conjured it.

Warmth like kissing, coursing through his veins. A surge of bright power to drown Lurs constant drone of pain. Beyond the library window the constant rain poured down. Barely noticing it, stunned, he touched the conjured ginger cake with his fingertips. Felt its stickiness and touched fingertips to his tongue. The taste burst through him, like magic.

He nearly ruined himself, trying not to laugh.

Next, he conjured a sharp knife and cut himself a fat slice.

After that, his growling belly silenced, he returned to the task of sifting through the rest of Durms books and scrolls. And even though this was serious, even though there was grief and anger and fright hovering, still as his fingers scrawled spells, scrawled protections for his dangerous journey, whenever he looked up at the window he could see himself smile.

Word was sent from the Council early the next morning. A summons, no fancy folderol. No Your kind attendance is requested. Just Come now. Jaffees privy chapel.

Mama and Deenie were both still abedor not venturing beyond their chambers. Rafel left a note, saddled Firedragon and rode through the mizzling rain down to the Market Square. Gave the stallion to the Barlschapel stable lads and made his quiet way inside, where a cleric led him to Barlsman Jaffees secluded rooms.

Arlin was there already, velvet and seed pearls gleaming gently in the glimlight. At the sound of footsteps he turned in his wooden chair, his dissatisfied expression tightening to anger.

No need for cartwheels, Rafel said, with his own sneer. You aint the face I was looking for, neither.

Arlin didnt answer. Arms folded, eyes slitted, he stared stony at his knees.

Poxy little s.h.i.t.

Propping himself against the nearest bit of stone wall, he lapsed into silence. Let his gaze drift about the chamber, with its plain stone floor and its plain wooden desk and chairs and the portrait of Barl in its beautiful frame. Somewhere in the greater chapel the acolytes were singing hymns. Learning, or practicing. Their sweet voices rose and fell, praising the mercy of Barl.

A short time later, Barlsman Jaffee swept into the austere chamber. He looked weary. Sleepless. His Barlsbraid was unravelling, its offering flowers fallen out. Creases and wrinkles marred his fine clerical robes.

There will be no parade, he announced curtly, taking his place behind the desk. No public business of any kind that draws attention to your leaving. Nor will you be going alone.

Arlin sat a little straighter. I beg your pardon?

Sit, Rafel, Jaffee ordered. And you, Arlin, be quiet. I have had enough deliberation and argument for the time being. Accept the Councils decision or go home to your vineyards. Its up to you. Rafel, sit.

Feeling sleepless himself, twitched with the leftovers of Doranen magic and too much ginger cake and the pain in Lur that wouldnt leave him alone, Rafel glowered at Jaffee a moment then dropped into the privy chapels other wooden chair.

I am not satisfied with this decision, said Arlin. I wish to present myself before the entire Council, not No, said Jaffee, hands tucked into the opposite sleeves of his robe. More authority in him now than Rafel had ever seen. I speak with the Councils united voice. Accept or reject these terms as you like, Lord Garrick. No other terms shall be offered to you.

In that case, said Arlin, standing, I shall make my own arrange ments.

That would be pointless, Jaffee replied. Recall that Barls Mountains are warded. Not even you are strong enough to break them. If you wish to enter the pa.s.s at Gribley, then the official wardkeeper must clear the way. And she will do so only with specific instructions from the Council.

Rafel watched Arlin wrestle with that, amused. Then he looked at Jaffee. What did you mean, were not travelling alone?

The Council has chosen three of its own to journey with you across the mountains, said Jaffee. His lips curved in a bleak smile. It is felt your lack of friendship with Lord Garrick might prove to be a hindrance to success.

Arlin was breathing hard with temper. And I am to have no say as to who None. Jaffees eyes were cold. Lord Garrick, we stand upon a precipice which even now crumbles beneath our feet. If you would save this kingdom, save the lives of its innocent inhabitants, do such service to Barl as makes you beloved in her eyes, I implore you: do not make this a matter of your pride and ambition. You would have tens and tens of thousands perish because you think yourself better than an Olken? Because you and Rafel cannot see eye to eye? Because you chafe against the Councils authority and restrictions? If that is true Of course its not true, Arlin snapped. If I had no care for Lur and the lives here, would I be risking my own life?

No, said Jaffee, gentle now. Youre a good man and a brave one, Arlin, and we stand in your debt. But I urge you to set aside all personal considerations. The only thing that can matter is finding a way to save Lur and, Barl willing, the other expedition. For all your differences and difficulties, you and Rafel hold that belief in common. Let it be the start of a better, kinder understanding.

From the look on his face, Arlin wasnt anywhere near to being convinced. But he nodded. Very well.

Rafel hid his amus.e.m.e.nt. So which councilors are coming with us, Barlsman Jaffee?

Nib Hambly, Hosh Clyne and Tomas Dimble, said Jaffee. Three good men. Dedicated, strong mages He cleared his throat, abruptly uncomfortable. And unwed.

Three Olken? Arlin choked, incredulous. Are you mad, Jaffee? What use are Olken? Rafels power might be warped and unnatural but at least Have you forgotten, Arlin? No unwed Doranen might sit on the Council, said Jaffee. Our own peoples rule, and perhaps not wise.

Then choose a married Doranen; send Jaffee shook his head. There is no sending. No-one can be forced to this undertaking. Besides, Arlinit would seem being Doranen is little or no protection against the dangers that lie beyond the mountains. Or is Sarle Baden not the mage we believed?