Children of Enchantment (20 page)

“It was dark,” said Brand. “Could you be mistaken?”

Vere turned to look at his brother, and in the arch of his brow, the proud lift of his head, Roderic saw again the clear stamp
of Abelard Ridenau. “There was no mistake.”

“This has something to do with the information Jesselyn was bringing me, doesn’t it?” asked Roderic.

Vere nodded. “Unquestionably.”

“Do you know what that information was?”

Vere hesitated. “I will tell you what I can. But you must understand that I am bound by other vows—vows from which I have
not been released—“

“If this has to do with Dad—” began Brand, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark brows knitted in a frown, and he lowered
his head like an angry bull.

Vere shook his head. “I am not sure that it does.”

“You must tell us everything,” Roderic sat down opposite Vere and crossed his long legs at the knee.

“I will tell you what I can.” There was a quiet note in Vere’s voice which brooked no argument. “I am a tracker—there is no
need for you to understand exactly what that is—suffice it for me to say that I have spent the greater part of the last years
searching out ancient knowledge among old ruins. What I have found is of no concern to you, either, except that as I have
traveled, I have also been searching for the whereabouts of a renegade Muten named Ferad-lugz.”

Brand shook his head impatiently. “And what does any of this have to do with Amanander?”

Roderic took a deep breath and leaned forward. “This is no time for secrets if the safety of this realm is at stake.”

“I will tell you what I can,” Vere repeated. “Many years ago, Dad quarreled with his mother, Agara, and banished her from
Ahga.”

“Why?” asked Roderic.

“I can tell you that,” said Brand. “The quarrel concerned the succession. She was determined that Amanander should be King
after Abelard. He refused to name Amanander his heir—he was concerned that any son other than that of his Queen would be questioned
by the Congress. Although Amanander’s mother was contracted to marry Dad, she died before the actual ceremony could take place.
And therein lies the problem—in some of the estates, a contracted marriage is as valid as an actual marriage, and in some
of them, it isn’t. You must remember that Dad came to the throne in the middle of a struggle with the Congress over the unity
of the realm, and in Mortmain’s Rebellion, the entire western section of the country tried to establish a separate kingdom.
So Dad was afraid that if he named Amanander his heir, and then had a son by his Queen, too many in the Congress would support
Amanander, and once again, there’d be the threat of a division. So Agara took Amanander and Alexander with her when she left,
and together they went to Missiluse, to Eldred, Agara’s cousin, and Dad’s old enemy.”

“It was while they were there—” Vere spoke up when Brand paused “—that Agara became involved with this Muten—Ferad-lugz, he
was called—because she wanted to learn to work the Old Magic.”

“Old Magic?” echoed Roderic. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Of course not,” said Brand. “She was crazy by that time.”

“It is more than possible.” Vere gave Brand a cold stare. “I don’t expect you to believe me, for the priests would have us
all think otherwise. But Agara’s intention to use the Old Magic and thus in some way force Dad to name Amanander corresponded
with Ferad’s own plans.”

“And they were?” asked Roderic when Vere stopped.

“I do not believe I can tell you that without breaking my vows. But since that day in Missiluse—when Eldred was killed and
Dad and Phineas were rescued, along with Amanander and Alexander—we have searched for Ferad without cease.”

“Who’s we?” asked Roderic. “What are these vows of yours? Who do you serve?”

“I serve the Pr’fessors of the College of the Elders.”

“The Mutens,” said Brand. He made a derisive sound. “I should have known you’d end up with them. By the One, Vere, enough
of this superstitious nonsense. Next you’ll tell us the real threat to the realm is the Old Magic.”

“It is.”

There was a long silence while the two brothers stared at each other, neither willing to capitulate. Finally Vere’s mouth
curved in a gentle smile touched with sadness. “I did not come to quarrel, Brand. And I did not come to seek approval of the
way I have chosen to live my life. I came because, despite what you might think, I have never forgotten that I, too, am a
son of Abelard Ridenau.”

In the last, quiet words, Roderic heard a trace of longing for the acceptance he himself had so freely received from Abelard,
the acceptance denied this son who had never equaled Abelard’s expectations, and so had never been missed. He glanced at Brand,
who had dropped his arms and leaned against the cold hearth. “Go on,” said Roderic.

“I located Ferad’s hiding place in the deep deserts near Dlas-for’Torth, but I was never able to penetrate his defenses. I
sent a messenger back to the Elders. He died of the purple sickness near Jesselyn. She found my message and sent it onward
with Everard, who was on his way south to ensure that the peace made by the Children after Atland was honored by all. By the
time the Elders received it, I myself had arrived. The Elders told me what happened to Ebram-taw’s people.” Vere glanced at
Roderic, and Roderic flushed. “When I knew the whole story—I decided to come north, to Ahga. I wanted to see Amanander if
I could.”

“Do you think Amanander’s involved with this Muten, this Ferad?” asked Roderic, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Without question.” Vere replied. “Amanander was there, you see, when Ferad was teaching Agara the Magic. And Amanander was
the focus of all her plans.”

“And Amanander has been in Dlas for years,” said Brand.

“Yes.” Vere let the implication sink in.

“Tell me about the Old Magic,” said Roderic. “What is it? What can it do?”

“Come now, Roderic.” Brand gestured impatiently. “Don’t you swallow this Muten pap, too. How can you stand to listen?”

“Don’t you remember what you said to me about Amanander’s men, in Ahga? What you felt when you went to speak to them yourself?”
Roderic faced his eldest brother. “You said you feared for your very self—those were your words, Brand, not mine. We have
to listen to Vere—Muten pap or no.”

Vere was listening carefully. “I would like to speak more to you concerning these soldiers of Amanander’s, Brand. But to answer
your question, Roderic, the Old Magic can do anything the mind can conceive. The Old Magic is a series of equations—mathematical
equations. When one can understand the equations, enough energy is generated by the human mind to change the physical world.
One can therefore do anything one desires—including affecting the actions of others.”

“What do you mean?” asked Roderic.

“That day in Atland—when you killed Ebram-taw’s people—how did you feel? What were you thinking?”

Roderic hesitated, and he glanced at the floor. “I was wrong,” he whispered.

“Yes,” said Vere. “But at the time, how did you feel”’ Close your eyes—try to remember.”

Obediently Roderic closed his eyes. The room was completely silent, even the whisper of the rustling blanches against the
window had stilled. It reminded him of the stillness that day, before the bloodlust had come upon him. “They attacked our
camp. They were trying to rescue Ebram-taw. But there were too many of us, too few of them. Amanander had told us where to
look for him. He said he had discovered the information on his way to Atland. He turned out to be right.” From somewhere which
seemed very far away, he heard the sharp hiss that was Vere’s intake of air. “The fighting had stopped. I remember Amanander
watching me, and then I felt as though I could not breathe—as though the air was too thick, like water. And then I felt this
need—to shed blood—I remember even the sun looked red—“

“It was red,” interrupted Brand. “It was the clouds.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” asked Roderic.

“How could I?” Brand’s face was dark with some emotion Roderic could not name. “You’re the Prince. You were before all the
men. I cannot countermand or question one of your orders in public. To do so would undermine your authority.”

Roderic raised his head and stared at Vere. “Are you saying Amanander forced me to do what I did?”

“The potential for such violence exists in every man—and every woman, too, for that matter. Amanander simply reached into
your mind, found that potential, and brought it to the surface. You normally control such feelings, except perhaps in battle.”

“Yes,” said Roderic, “that’s how I felt. Just as though I were fighting for my life. But the whole time, I knew the battle
was over—I knew the battle was over and I just couldn’t stop.”

“It is very difficult to fight such a thing. I have seen older and wiser men than you succumb,” said Vere. “Anyway, that’s
why I’ve come. Amanander is almost definitely in league with Ferad, and Ferad is more dangerous than anything or anyone you
can imagine. If Amanander ever masters the Old Magic—“

“Next you’ll suggest that Roderic had better start studying it.” Brand shook his head. “I cannot listen—“

“No, wait.” The note of command in Roderic’s voice made both the older men look at him. “At Ahga—at the feast when you told
me about the men—I saw something—or thought I did.”

“Tell me,” said Vere.

Briefly Roderic described the sickening sight of the small creature in Amanander’s hand—a creature fashioned out of an apple.

“You were tired,” said Brand. “Probably confused what you saw. No one could do such a thing.”

“Anyone could do such a thing—if they know the Magic,” said Vere.

“Do you think Amanander has something to do with Dad’s disappearance?” asked Roderic.

Vere shrugged. “I wish I could tell you for certain. The Old Magic is very powerful, but it requires years and years of study.
Amanander is certainly able to affect people for some short length of time—but you must understand that the mind has its own
defenses. For example, if you distrust Amanander, you are shielded to some extent. I would doubt that he knows enough to breach
such defenses entirely. I wish I had spent time with him. I might have been able to gauge the extent of his knowledge.”

“And Ferad?”

“I shudder to think what he has learned in all this time.”

But, say, on a day where rain threatens, and the clouds have gathered, the manipulation of the combination of factors to cause
the rain to begin to fall would be a fairly easy thing. So it depends.”

“And Amanander? With his trick?”

Vere stroked his beard. “If what you say you saw is true— and I don’t doubt you—” he held up his hand “—then Amanander may
be even more dangerous than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brand.

“Tell me about the guards.”

It was Brand’s turn to stumble over the words as he tried to describe the four bodyguards and the effect they had had on the
men with whom they had come into contact. “What do you think of that?” he finished, with a challenge.

“The Magic is primarily involved with the reorganization of the fundamental elements of matter. But Amanander’s interest is
not in simply bending the material world to his will. Amanander seeks to control men’s minds. He does control these guards
of his— that’s why they seem so unnatural. They are unnatural—they are men robbed of their will. And you—” Here Vere looked
at Roderic. “He’s found a way into your mind. Your youth played against you, Roderic. Older men are stronger. But if Amanander
ever learns to perfect this, he will be a deadly, deadly opponent. It isn’t just that he can steal a man’s will. He might
be able to use it.”

“Use it? How? To do what?” asked Roderic.

“To absorb the energy of it. To add it to his own will.” Vere paused, as if considering. “I can teach you certain exercises,
spells, if you will, to increase your own mental shields. But Amanander is not quite so strong yet. He killed Jesselyn—that’s
one mistake. And he left me alive—there’s another. Amanander is dangerous. But he’s not invincible. Yet.”

The word lingered in the air, and Roderic rose restlessly and paced to the window. He wasn’t certain he liked the sound of
Vere’s spells. The dark shape just barely visible over the treetops reminded him of something else. Abruptly he turned back
to his brothers. “Does the name Nydia Farhallen mean anything to you, Vere?”

Vere gasped. “Nydia? What has she to do with this?”

“We don’t know,” answered Brand. “Perhaps you can tell us. You knew her, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Vere, and Roderic saw the same faraway look in his eyes as Obayana and Brand when Nydia’s name had first been
mentioned.

“Why would Amanander be interested in her?”

“Because Nydia was far more than one of Dad’s women.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brand sharply.

Vere hesitated, clearly torn between two allegiances. “Nydia was a prescient. She could see the future—and she could work
the Magic.”

Brand swore beneath his breath. “And Dad believed this nonsense? No wonder he accepted her Pledge of Allegiance.”

“Is she dead?” asked Roderic.

“He not only believed it, he relied I it,” Vere answered Brand, then turned to Roderic. “I have no way of knowing if she’s
dead or not.”

“The old rumors say Dad sent her way because she bore a child—Phineas’s child.”

Vere frowned. “A child? When?”

“Years ago,” said Brand.

“Then you must go to that tower, as soon as you can, if you can, and find her.”

“If we can?” asked Brand.

“I imagine if Nydia is still there and wants no company, that tower is impossible to approach. The Magic can be used to shift
appearances, so what seems to be a straight path is in reality crooked, what seems like a thicket of impassable underbrush
is in reality a clear path. Perhaps Amanander tried to go there himself, though I doubt he yet possesses the skill to challenge
Nydia, if she is still alive. But I think that old rumor—of the child—is the key to Amanander’s interest in Nydia. If there
is a child, she will be the focus of Ferad’s plans.”