The Archmage Unbound (28 page)

It all sounded very neat and precise but
I didn’t like it. As usual human lives were being treated with little more
concern than a player has for his chess pieces. “That’s wonderful for me then
isn’t it?” I announced with a bitter tone.

“For the most part,” Marc replied.

“And what happens when I become
‘inconvenient’ one fine day?” I asked pointedly.

“That’s a possibility that all men of
station have to consider. In general there are two practical strategies for
dealing with it,” he said.

He paused and I gave him a flat stare, I
didn’t feel like playing twenty questions. Eventually he decided to continue
despite my lack of prompting.

“The first,” he said sourly, “is making
damn sure you don’t become ‘inconvenient’, as you put it.” He paused again,
but I merely stared at him some more.

Rose winked at me. “What is the second
Marcus?” she asked gaily.

“Thank you Rose,” he told her. “The
second is making sure you always use a taster before you eat, keeping a lot of
men like Sir Harold there around, and always wearing a chain shirt.”

I raised an eyebrow, “I don’t recall you
ever doing any of that.”

“I was never important enough,” he said
bluntly. “You, on the other hand, have more attention focused on you than even
the king does at the moment. It pays to be ready for the worst.”

“You’ll be glad to know that you and
Dorian are in complete agreement,” I said dryly.

“You can add me to that list,” said
Harold, speaking for the first time.

“How would you like to be my new food
taster?” I shot back, but I smiled to let him know I wasn’t serious.

I was sitting in the same private
reception chamber I had met King Edward in for the first time, back when James
and I had been slightly inebriated. On this occasion I was entirely sober and
prepared for the worst. Harold and one of my other men at arms were waiting
outside, beside the king’s own armsmen. Weapons weren’t permitted in the
presence of his royal majesty, except in the case of high ranking nobility,
though I had declined to wear a weapon myself, partly because it was considered
respectful and partly because I really didn’t need one.

I had sent a messenger to the palace the
day before, after my arrival, to notify his majesty of my presence in the
capital. He had sent my man back with a summons to meet him this morning, to
discuss the plans for my award and recognition ceremony. Consequently I now
found myself facing him across a small table, watching him sip carefully at a
cup of hot tea.

“You haven’t touched your tea,” he said
mildly, looking at my own cup.

“Pardon me your majesty, my stomach has
been very delicate this morning,” I replied before raising my cup to my lips.
Rose had assured me that it was highly unlikely Edward would try to poison me
at this point, especially under these circumstances, but I still couldn’t bring
myself to drink. I tilted the cup as if I was sipping but I never opened my
mouth. In fact I even kept a thin shield between my lips and the liquid, lest
some contact poison were present. Was I paranoid? Perhaps, but I was beyond
caring.

King Edward watched me without concern,
though something told me he was well aware of my deception. He smiled before
speaking again, “We are pleased that you returned so quickly.”

“I prefer to waste as little time as
possible your majesty, especially when it is your time,” I answered carefully.

“Now that you’re here, we would like to
hold the ceremony in two days. That should be enough time for most of the
local nobility to arrange their affairs so they can be present. Ideally we
should like as many of them to see it as possible,” he said.

I would have preferred to get it over
with immediately so I could return home sooner, but I had expected this. “I am
not very fond of public honors and accolades, is it really necessary to have
such a display your majesty?”

“You possess a keen intellect along with
your many other talents Mordecai, but questions such as that one serve to
remind me that you were not raised among the nobility,” he replied. I started
to answer but he held up a hand before continuing, “Public ceremonies and
displays are as much a part of ruling as councils and private meetings. In
some ways they are more important, for they cement a ruler’s place in the
forefront of his subject’s minds. They also serve to reinforce the nobility’s
memory of their own standing in relation to the king and to the one being
honored. Never doubt the importance of such occasions.”

I found Edward’s lecture condescending
and it re-ignited my anger of the previous day. “Was Arundel’s execution also
a reminder?” I asked. My tone was even but my eyes held a dangerous light.

His face took on an amused expression,
“One would think that you would be more pleased at the news. We were given to
understand that there was no love lost between you and the late baron.”

I fixed him with a direct stare before I
spoke, “I dislike seeing people used as pawns, to be played or discarded for
matters of convenience.”

Edward’s countenance grew red and his brows
drew together as he heard my words. “When you have seen as many winters as I
have, buried as many friends and allies as I have, been betrayed and
manipulated as I have, then you may judge me. When you have grown old and
jaded from long years wielding power, then you may debate my relative worth on
the scale of good and evil, until then you can keep your damned opinions to
yourself!”

I couldn’t help but notice the king had
dropped the royal ‘we’ during his tirade and somehow it made me feel as if I
had won a small victory. My own anger dissipated somewhat allowing me to think
more clearly. “You assume I will live to such an age your Majesty.
Considering my position, there isn’t much chance of me reaching a ripe old
age.” Our eyes locked as I spoke and I was certain he could see my resolve, as
well as my honesty.

His own anger flickered out as he gazed
at me, to be replaced by a sardonic expression. “Don’t count on it Mordecai, I
once said the same thing, yet I am here still, long past my prime.”

I gave him a grim smile. “Should I be
so lucky as to live long enough to judge you I doubt you will still be alive to
hear my explanation of your faults,” I said.

“Arrogant bastard!” he exclaimed. “If
you do live that long you will have become just as dark and jaded as I am, and
wishing you could find my shade that you might apologize for your
impertinence.” We glared at each other for a tense moment before we both began
to chuckle. It was a dark laughter, born of anger and tension, but it defused
the dangerous emotions that lay between us… at least temporarily.

Shortly after that I excused myself. I
don’t think either of us really wanted to continue making small talk. Neither
of us liked the other, but as long as we could manage a working relationship
that was all that mattered.

***

Later that same day I took the
opportunity to do some research in the library. I was hoping to find another
book about illusions, or possibly some explanation for how someone could hide
from my magesight. The memory of the stranger in Cameron Castle still bothered
me. However such a thing was accomplished it should be something the wizards
of old would have known about.

I spent a fruitless span of hours
looking for the information I wanted before I stumbled across something
unexpected. I was replacing books that I had taken down earlier to peruse,
when I noticed something odd about the wall behind the bookshelf. The pattern
of runes there was different.

Every stone that formed the house was
enchanted, which meant that spotting something simply by virtue of the presence
of a magical aura was useless. In this case however I could discern a very
different pattern to the runes woven into these particular stones. There
seemed to be five specific points within the pattern that were unconnected, but
I wasn’t sure why.

I studied it for a long time before I
decided to do something foolish. I knew Penny wouldn’t have approved, but
since she wasn’t there to give advice I figured I’d have to do the best I
could. And my best was telling me that the five points were meant to be
connected by using the fingertips of my left hand. I really couldn’t be sure
what would happen then. Surely it wouldn’t be anything bad… right?

I started laughing softly to myself.
“It takes a special sort of fool sometimes,” I said to no one in particular.
Then I reached out and carefully placed my fingertips on the appropriate spots.
The pattern around the five touch points began to glow visibly, rather than
just in my magesight, and I could feel a tingling in my palm. For a second
nothing else happened and I discovered I was holding my breath, I let it out
with an audible sigh. Then I removed my hand and stepped back.

The glowing faded quickly and I thought
I must have done something wrong when I heard a click and the wall began moving
silently aside, taking the bookcase with it. Seconds later I found myself
staring into a small but brightly lit room, one that had been hidden within the
library despite all my previous searches. “Well I’ll be damned,” I said to
myself.

I stepped inside and the wall closed
silently behind me. That worried me a little, but I hoped that getting out
would be as easy as entering had been, otherwise I was in for some fun later.

The room I was standing in wasn’t large,
being only around six foot by six on each side. It was brightly lit by
enchanted lamps that weren’t too dissimilar to the ones I had created for my
workshop at home, though I could tell at a glance that the patterns were
slightly different from mine.

A long low bench was built against the
far wall, and it held an assortment of small tools, hammers and chisels
primarily, things that would be useful shaping small pieces of jewelry, or
perhaps wood, if one was into carving. None were magical in the slightest,
except for one small silver implement. I drew closer to examine it.

It was perhaps the size of a small quill
pen, if most of the feather had been removed. At a guess it was about six or
seven inches in length and less than a quarter inch in diameter. One end was
blunt and the other end tapered gracefully to a fine point. The entire thing
looked to be fashioned of pure silver, though it hadn’t tarnished in the
slightest. It was also completely covered with tiny and intricate runes, from
one end to the other.

At first I was completely mystified
regarding its function, until I realized the pattern of runes was familiar,
though they were much smaller than the ones I had seen before. They were
nearly identical to the runes that formed the main shaft of my staff. The tiny
silver implement was a rune channel, created to facilitate the focusing and
fine control of power. Its size still puzzled me though.

My staff was large, and rightly so, I
could use it to channel a blast of energy over much greater distances, or use
it to focus my power into a razor sharp beam, for cutting through an enemy’s
shields. Creating a rune channel this size made little sense. I picked it up
and held it carefully in my hand, as I would a pen or brush. As I considered
its function I moved it idly over the surface of the bench and channeled a tiny
bit of power through it. It left beautifully graceful lines of energy across
the wood, much finer and more delicate than any I had ever managed using my
fingers alone; and as simply as that I understood its function.

It was a stylus of sorts. At least that
was the only name I could think of to call it. Historically ancient man had
used similar metal implements to incise letters on clay or wax tablets, back
before paper had come into wide use. This was similar to that, except it was
used to create magical runes, quickly, easily and more precisely than could be
done using bare hands. Having seen it I could hardly believe I had never
thought to make one for myself before now. It was such a plainly useful thing
I felt like kicking myself for not having done so already.
Think of the
time I could have saved!
I thought to myself.

I tucked it into my belt pouch. I could
create one myself if need be, but I didn’t see any reason not to take the one I
had already found. Then I returned my attention to the room around me. Aside
from the stylus, the only remaining objects of possible interest were a small
silver bound book and an intricately carved wooden box. The box caught my eye
first, for the artistry that went into its carving took my breath away.

I opened it carefully and found myself
puzzled by the contents. The interior was lined with soft fabric, now dry and
brittle with age. Nestled within that fabric were a number of plain gold
rings. Each was identical and scribed with delicate runes set in a very
particular pattern. It looked like an enchantment but there was very little
residual magic contained within them.

Worked into the pattern were Lycian
letters, spelling out one word on the exterior, ‘Illeniel’. I turned one of
the rings over carefully in my hands and spotted more writing on the inside of
the band, again in Lycian. The words were tiny but they appeared to read
‘trusted guest’.
That’s an odd phrase to put in a gold ring,
I thought.