Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) (52 page)

“Is that wise?” he finally asked.  Of all the objections he could have raised, that was one she
hadn’t
expected. 

“Perhaps not.  But neither are a great many things I’ve done over the years.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.  I’ll tell you what . . . give me a day to think about it,” she decided.  “Let me actually get to know you a bit, and see if I think things will work out.  I owe you that much simply for arriving with a pack of angry hounds, when you did tonight.”

“Oh, thank you, Lady Pentandra!” Alurra said, excitedly. 

“You can sleep in our chamber tonight,” she decided, her heart sinking as she realized that a lusty reunion with her husband would have to wait.  “The hall below will be filled with exhausted guardsmen, and I think the new Kasari are bunked in the loft.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” Alurra assured her.  “I didn’t bring much in the way of belongings – just one little pack.”

“Who came with you, child?” asked Arborn, concerned.

“Who?  Why, no one.  I came by myself.  Except for Lucky, here, and my other friends. Animals,” she clarified.

“You
speak
to animals?”

“She’s a brown mage,” Pentandra supplied.  “Like Lenodara.  Only even more powerful, from the way you enchanted that entire pack of dogs,” she added, approvingly.  Arborn wasn’t nearly as impressed by that as he was her journey.

“A blind girl walked more than seventy leagues through goblin territory . . . by
herself?
”

“She said she had her crow,” Pentandra pointed out.  “It proves she’s capable and self-reliant – two qualities sadly lacking in most apprentices.”

“Raven,” Alurra corrected.  “It wasn’t that bad.  Lucky and the others scouted ahead, miles ahead, and always kept watch.  I never got closer than a mile to a goblin,” she boasted, proudly.  “They watched out for me and kept me safe the entire way here.”

“And once you got to the town?” Pentandra prompted.

“Oh, Antimei had me go visit a hedgewitch she knows here, a friend.  I’m to go to her if you . . .
reject
me.” The tone in her voice demonstrated that the blind girl feared that alternative, but was ready to face it.

“And if I do?  Reject you, that is?” she asked, curious.

“It would be . . .
bad,
” Alurra decided.

“Bad?  How, bad?”

“Bad in so many horrible ways I can’t even think about them all.  You must understand, Mistress, I don’t want this because
I
want this, if you take my meaning.  It has been . . .
foreordained?
” she said, trying hard at the long word. 

“Fated?” Pentandra shot back, automatically, her stomach sinking.  There were several examples of prophecy and foresight intruding into history.  Universally, such entanglements spelt disaster for those involved.  “That is dangerous talk, my girl.  We all have the freedom of our will.”

“So it is said,” Alurra nodded.  “As Antimei says, our fates are composed of our free will struggling against circumstance, with destiny the inevitable outcome.”

“What does that even
mean?
” Arborn asked, confused.

“I’m . . . I’m not really certain myself,” Alurra confessed, hurriedly.  “But I
trust
her.  She has helped my village for generations, always far more powerful than she lets on.  All I ask is that you grant her this boon.  She says she can’t teach me any more magic, on account of my eyes.  I can’t read,” she sighed.  “I can see through the eyes of my animal friends, but their minds can’t . . . see
word
s, not the way human eyes apparently can.  Or something like that,” she dismissed, frustrated.  “So I’ve learned as much as she can teach me, but Antimei says it will take one of the most creative and talented magi in the world to finish the job.  Lady Pentandra.”

“This is not the usual way apprentices are selected, I take it,” Arborn said, quietly, as the silence following Alurra’s declaration stretched. 

“No, usually . . . well, honestly, I do not know.  I’ve never taken one before.  Minalan chose his first apprentice, Tyndal, and inherited his second.  His third, Lenodara, he selected to avoid a riot breaking out.  I’m not certain that there is a standard method for that sort of thing.  I mean, the Magic Fair has a venue to match good apprentices with good masters, but that’s a relatively new development.

“None of which factors into my decision,” she announced, setting her wine glass on the table in front of her.  “I’ll prepare a bed for you in our chamber tonight, and we shall reconsider the matter by light of day.  Arborn, would you mind fetching some blankets from the press?  I don’t want to wake the servants at this hour.”

Later, when Alurra was settled in, her raven perched on a rafter overhead, Pentandra and Arborn retired to their own bed and drew the curtains.  As an additional guard, Pentandra cast spells to keep them from being overheard by the sleeping girl.

“Welcome back, my husband,” she said, kissing him warmly as she slid into bed.  “I’ve been expecting you for days.”

“I was delayed,” Arborn reminded her, apologetically.  “We were in the east country when I received a message.  I had to meet . . . someone,” he said.

“Who?” Pentandra asked, innocently.  Arborn’s reluctance to speak of the matter invited her curiosity, she reasoned.

“I . . . there are some things I must be cautious about speaking of,” he mumbled.  That caught Pentandra’s attention sharply.

“Like what?  Unless it’s another wife and a cottage full of bastards, I can’t think of anything you couldn’t share with me,” she said, patiently.

“It’s . . . well, our marriage has put me in a difficult position—”

“How
so?
” Pentandra asked, icily.  This did not bode well.

“I am in the sworn confidence of . . . certain parties,” he said, his jaw clenched, “and those parties are wary of the Arcane Orders.”

“You . . .
what?
”  All sorts of unlikely scenarios erupted in Pentandra’s mind at the admission.  Was Arborn working for their foes?  The Southern rebels?  Queen Grendine’s sinister Family?

“It’s the Alka Alon,” Arborn said, quickly, anxious to pacify her.  “You have to understand, the Alka Alon and the Kasari have worked together for centuries.  In many ways we are their eyes and ears in the wilderness.  We have protected and aided each other countless times.”

“And the Arcane Orders threaten that?”

“There are many Alka who are mistrustful of human beings, even the Kasari.  Especially magically Talented human beings.  The history of the Magocracy wasn’t exactly benevolent, when it came to relations with the Alka Alon,” he pointed out.

“Agreed.  But there isn’t a Magocracy, any more,” Pentandra responded, coolly.

“But from the Alka Alon’s perspective, that was only a few years ago.  Most of them still remember the Magocracy, personally.  And many see human magi as a dangerous threat – as dangerous as human gods.”

“Granted,” she nodded, curtly, if defiantly.  “We also have saved a whole bunch of people – human and Alkan – from certain death.  Does that count for nothing?”

“I am not defending their attitude,” Arborn said, holding up his hand, “I’m just reporting it.  They are wary.  And concerned that the Arcane Orders will delve too deeply into matters that do not concern you.”

Pentandra snorted, angrily.  “Like rushing in to assist an ally under attack, when no Alka Alon would?”

“That
has
been mentioned in your favor,” Arborn agreed.  “Indeed, it is the main reason for the softening of their stance.  The Alka Alon have humanity’s interests in mind.  But I am still cautious about sharing their secrets overmuch.”

“I am your wife, and no longer a leader in the Arcane Orders,” she reminded him, stiffly.  “You may elect to tell me or not, as you desire, my husband.”

Arborn stared at her for many moments in the light of the tiny magelight before he sighed.  “I met with Ithalia and a small squadron of her kin.  Only briefly, but long enough to hear news.  News about Ameras, the heir to the Aronin of Amadia.”

Pentandra knew a little about the mysterious figure.  Minalan had met her once.  A young Alkan who was the only daughter of one of the wisest of the Fair Folk, who had disappeared at the very beginning of the goblin invasion. 

Pentandra still didn’t understand why she was so important – her family had ruled one tiny little stronghold in the Mindens, a few hundred Alka at most.  They had to abandon it after the Dead God had taken over the rest of the valley.  Most of the other inhabitants had found refuge with their kin in the Kulines, but for some reason the entire Alkan Council were almost panicked because this one Alkan girl was missing.

“Was she found?  Was she dead?”

“She was not found, and she seems to be alive, by the report,” Arborn said, quietly.  “She was seen in the far northeast, where few of even my people venture.  At least that’s what is suggested.  Ithalia was checking with me to see if there was any news from human lands.  That’s why she needed to see me, specifically.  Ameras is supposedly keeping company with a human High Mage.”

“A High Mage?” Pentandra asked, curious. 
“Who?”

“That isn’t known.  And it was why Ithalia wished me to discretely inquire of my loving wife, to see if my contacts at the Arcane Orders could provide a clue, without arousing alarm.  But that is the second sighting of her in two years.  When all the world is searching for her.  It is as if she doesn’t wish to be found.”

Pentandra chewed her lip in the darkness.  “That’s part of what I don’t understand – why all the interest in one Alka Alon princess?  What is so special about her?  Is she the heir to a lost dynasty or something?”

Again Arborn was silent for an unnaturally long time before he answered.

“The term ‘Aronin’ means ‘guardian’.  Her family not only guarded the molopor of Boval Vale—”

“And not terribly well,” Pentandra blurted.

“They weren’t expecting an abomination to crawl out of a hole with a bloodthirsty horde, no,” Arborn said, sourly.  “But the Aronin was also charged with the task of being the custodian of a great armory.  An arsenal containing weapons from the ancient wars between the Alka Alon – weapons so dire that they were gathered and sequestered away by common assent at the end of the struggle to keep them from being used casually ever again.”

“That’s just the kind of weapons we need against the Dead God!”

“We
know,
” Arborn said, grumbling.  “Indeed, it was toward just an occasion as this that they weapons were put away in the first place.  Only now that they are needed, the only person who knows where they are is lost to us.  As is the location of the armory.”

“Wait, the Aronin was the
only
one who knew?”

“That was his purpose,” Arborn agreed, grimly.  “To protect not just the armory and how to open it, but even its location.  Only he and the members of his line know the secret.  He guards not just its location and entry, but keeps the conscience of when and how it is used.  Which means Ameras is the last one with that knowledge.”

“Oh.  Well
that
explains the interest, then,” Pentandra conceded.  “And why the Alon want to keep it quiet from the Arcane Orders.  But why do they want to involve you, directly?”

“All of the Kasari rangers look to me,” her husband said, softly.  “I am their captain.  I directed a few fellows to go investigate.  But that is a dangerous, wild land.  It may be many months before I hear anything.  And I am married to a High Mage noted for her discretion.”

“Well, I am gratified that you explained it to me,” Pentandra sighed.  “I promise not to misuse the information.  Honestly, if we’re going to win this war, humans and Alka are going to have to start trusting each other!”

“That depends on the humans,” Arborn said, rolling onto his back and staring at the canopy overhead.  “That depends on the Alka Alon.  That was the other thing she was warning me about.  There is a . . .
faction
of Alka who actively hate humans.  And most of the other Alka Alon.  An ancient political feud that turned into a generational vendetta,” he explained.  “They have been witnessed actively assisting the gurvani.”

“We’ve heard that rumor before,” Pentandra reminded him.  “The Enshadowed.  So far, the average gurvan hasn’t benefitted much from it.”

“They are now.  Ithalia told me of an encounter she had near the borders of the Penumbra.  She was attacked by undead.”

“That’s not a terribly complicated spell, if grisly,” Pentandra said, squirming despite herself at the thought of the dark realm of magic.  “Even gurvani shamans can do it.  The undead don’t last long.  And they don’t fight well.”

“
These
did,” Arborn insisted, quietly.  “They fought with twice the strength of a man, were alacritous, and possessed rare cunning in battle.  I, too, have faced the living dead in my travels.  These were not the usual walking corpses, my love.  These were different.  Ithalia fears they are but the first works of the Demon God.  He is awakened, and at work.”