The Archmage Unbound (39 page)

The name George rang a bell in my mind
and I remembered my father’s letters. “George… is he named after your father?”

Walter looked up, “No, George was my
older brother.”

That surprised me; I had assumed that
the George Prathion my father had known was this man’s father. I made a mental
note of the fact before continuing, “How long has it been since you saw your
children Walter?”

“Four years.”

I stood up. “I still don’t know if I
believe you Walter. But if you’re telling the truth I’ll do my damnedest to
make sure they’re safe again.”

The older wizard’s eyes stared at me
intently, and I could see both hope and fear written on his face. I turned
away and opened the door. “I’ll check on you again in a few days. Rest up and
heal, we can talk more then. If you try to escape, or if you aren’t here when
I return… I’ll assume you were lying and kill you.” I snapped my fingers to
illustrate my point. I could feel his eyes still watching me as I shut the door.

I stepped away from the teleportation
circle and looked around, within seconds my senses told me the house was empty,
both Rose and Marc had gone elsewhere.
That’s rather inconvenient,
I
thought to myself. I had hoped to find both of them at the house. That would
have simplified my task. They needed to know what had happened to Dorian and
Penny. Deep down I was slightly relieved though, I was dreading the
conversation. Still, they had to be told and I couldn’t leave the task to
someone else.

A piece of paper caught my eye; it had
been tacked to the doorframe leading into the hallway. It was ideally
positioned so that I wouldn’t fail to notice it after arriving. I took it down
and recognized Rose’s elegant handwriting immediately.

Dear Mordecai,

I’m sorry there’s no one
here to meet you, but I decided to return to my own home. I have been away
from it for quite a while now and there were a number of matters that needed my
attention. If you need to see me quickly please seek me there. My house is
located at 17 Hightower Street, not far from the traditional Hightower
residence. I’m sure you remember it, since you broke in there once.

Marc hasn’t been back in
several days either and he may not return for a week or more. He has contrived
a plan to gain access to certain religious archives. I won’t say more
regarding it here, but I will be glad to give you more information when I see
you next. Assuming he hasn’t already returned by then. I’m rather worried for
his sake, as usual his idea is bold and daring, not to mention risky.

I found a suitable
blacksmith for you. His name is Gavin Traylor and he’s a rather accomplished
journeyman. He trained under Brian Turbrook, the chief weaponsmith and armorer
for King Edward himself. His skills are excellent and he should probably have
been promoted to master already in his own right, which I believe is the reason
he seeks to leave the capital. My guess is that his teacher has kept him back
for fear of creating undue competition for himself.

In any case, his difficult
circumstances have created a wonderful opportunity for you. He readily agreed
to your terms and should be arriving in Washbrook within a week or two. He
said he would make the trip as soon as he had finished arranging his affairs
and packing his own tools and such.

If that were not good news
enough, I have another surprise for you as well. Peter and Lily Tucker showed
up on your doorstep just a few days after you left. They seem to have had a
change of heart and were interested in seeking employment in your Excellency’s
service. I wasn’t sure what you would have wanted but I felt fairly safe in
offering them terms on your behalf. Even now they are making the journey to
Washbrook. I told Peter that you had need of another messenger and I told Lily
that you needed more help among the castle staff.

As for their motivations…
you can be sure there is more to that story than I know.

Last, and certainly not
least, you should be aware that I spoke with my father, regarding a certain
friend of yours. He responded very positively and hopefully you can arrange
for Dorian to make a trip to the capital soon. Given your talents I don’t
think it would be too much of a hardship. When you see Penny be sure to tell
her. I think she will be almost as excited as I am. She and I have much to
plan for. Say nothing to Dorian however… I don’t want you to spoil my news.

Sincerely,

Lady Rose Hightower

The innocent hope in Rose’s letter tore
at my heart and I found my eyes watering as I stood there in the dim hallway.
I had to deliver the news to her, though it would destroy her dreams for the
future. I wondered as well how Marc would handle the news. Two of our best and
oldest friends were now gone. Would this wreck his recovery from what the
goddess had done to him?

It was too much to figure out alone. We
would have to help each other. I couldn’t shoulder my own burden and theirs as
well. I took the stairs down to the main floor of the house and made my way to
the door. Since I had no way of knowing where Marc was I would definitely be
looking for Rose first.

I was on high alert as I left the house,
with my mind stretched out to its fullest. I was curious as to whether anyone
had been watching the house, but although I found several people in the
buildings nearby none of them gave any indication that they were interested, or
even aware of my appearance. I kept my pace casual as I walked through the
city, but I didn’t bother to disguise my features. As far as the king knew I
might not have even returned home yet.

I found Rose’s house less than a block
from the tower where her father lived. I knew she possessed several estates in
her own right even though her parents were still alive. The Hightower family
was so well placed they could afford to pass certain titles on to her while
Lord Hightower himself still lived. The house was modestly sized for someone
of her relative social standing but it was obviously well cared for.

While most houses in town had large iron
knockers on the doors, this one bore a cleverly wrought brass bell. I pulled
on a small rope that hung below it and an almost melodic chiming issued forth.
It seemed perfectly suited to Rose.

Within a span of breaths the door opened
and a woman with neatly coiffed hair answered, “Good day sir. How can I help
you?”

“I am here to call on Lady Rose
Hightower,” I said in cultured tones, doing my best to imitate Benchley’s
voice.
I haven’t thought about that pompous bastard in a while, I wonder
how he’s doing?

The woman’s eyes made a rapid
examination of my clothes as she replied, “May I ask who is calling sir?” Her
own clothing was trim and sharp, a dark blue dress with light blue accents. I
might have taken her for noblewoman herself but for the practical apron she
wore over her front.

“Please tell her that the Count
di’Cameron is here, if she is available,” I answered.

The door opened wider at that
pronouncement, “You may wait inside your Lordship. I’ll inform the Lady
immediately.” She ushered me into a small waiting room near the front hall.

After she left I spent my time examining
the furnishings. As expected the room was well appointed. In fact, although
the style and decorations weren’t as lavish as those at the royal palace, they
were better chosen and more tastefully arranged, at least in my opinion. I sat
down in a comfortable chair to wait. The cushions on it were covered with a
patterned green fabric that matched the rest of the room perfectly.

I didn’t wait long however. Almost
immediately after sitting the woman who had let me in reappeared. “Lady Rose would
like you to join her in her bedroom sir,” she told me, though something in her
voice gave me the impression she would rather have chewed dung than to say
those words. Her expression was definitely disapproving even as she tried to
hide her opinion on the matter from me. “If you will follow me,” she added and
then turned away leading me further into the house.

The house really wasn’t that large, and
it only took a few seconds to reach the bedroom. The door was still open and
Rose called out as soon as she heard us, “I’m so glad you’ve returned
Mordecai! Please come in.”

I gave the maid a winning smile and did
as I was bid. She entered with me I knew she simply couldn’t bear the thought
of me being in the bedroom alone with Rose.
She probably thinks all men are
beasts just waiting to get into a lady’s boudoir.
Then I got my first look
at Rose and my breath caught in my throat.

She was standing in front of a large
window with the afternoon sun streaming in around her. Another woman was
kneeling behind her with a mouthful of pins and performing some arcane ritual
of feminine mystery upon the dress that Rose wore. The dress itself was
breathtaking. It was constructed of yellow material and embroidered with pink
roses. The hem was far too long for it to be a ball gown, without even
considering the train.
Train?
My brain had frozen up, but my eyes
continued to explore. The neckline was daring, but not scandalous, showing a
graceful neck and hints of her shoulders. Topping it all were Rose’s dark
curls, except that for once her hair wasn’t carefully arranged, or even brushed
and loose, instead it had been gathered into an ungainly mop and tied or pinned
to the top of her head.

Her eyes caught mine. “Well? What do
you think?” she said with an almost girlish smile on her face.

I was frozen in place. The dress could
be only one thing, a wedding dress. Knowing her family it had probably been
worn by her mother or great grandmother and she was having it fitted. She was
pleased by my shocked face. “I’ll take that look as a compliment,” she said at
last.

My mouth worked as my mind tried to come
up with some way to rescue what was already one of the most tragic moments I
could imagine. “But he hasn’t even asked you yet…,” came the words from my
mouth. Apparently that was the best I could manage.

Rose’s eyes darted to her maid and then
to the woman pinning her dress, “Mistress Kenwick, now should be a good time
for a break. Angela, would you mind taking Mistress Kenwick to the parlor for
some refreshments? I’d like some privacy.”

Angela, the woman who had escorted me
in, dipped her head and ushered the seamstress out. “I’ll just leave the door
open milady,” she replied.

“Shut it please.”

Angela pursed her lips unhappily but did
as she was told and then I was alone with Rose. I glanced at her again and
started to say something but she was quicker and spoke first, “Father said he
would be looking forward to meeting Dorian again, which is as close to giving
his outright approval as I could expect. I don’t think it will be very long
after that.”

“Still, this seems a bit sudden,” I
said, floundering for better words.

Rose left the window and came over to
greet me more warmly, putting her arms around my shoulders. “Relax Mordecai, I
know it could be a year or longer even. I’ve been waiting years already; this
is just a bit of fun. No sense in being caught unprepared after all.”

“Years?”

She stepped back and gave me a serious
look. “Since his parents sent him to foster under my father’s tutelage.”

That had been years ago, when Dorian was
a growing boy of just thirteen years I recalled. “He told me that he rarely
spoke to you then.”

Rose laughed, “
He
rarely spoke.
I followed him about and teased him frequently. I had never met such a serious
young man, nor one so easily embarrassed.” The memory put a sparkle in her
eyes as she spoke.

I could tell by her mood she was ready
to continue the story but I stopped her, “Rose.”

She grew still and her eyes searched my
face carefully. Her euphoria had blinded her usual perceptiveness, but now her
attention had focused fully upon me. In the span of a few seconds she read the
sad tale written on my visage and I saw her own features darken. It was like
watching rainclouds cover a previously sunny sky. “What happened?”

I had kept myself under control pretty
well for the past two days but her simple question undid me. My eyes were
watering as I looked away, “I don’t know how to say this Rose.”

Her voice hardened, “How bad is it?”

“They’re both dead Rose… Penny and
Dorian both,” somehow I got the words out, though my heart felt like lead as I
said them.

I had taken my gaze away from her but my
magesight showed her clearly as she registered the dire news. An almost
imperceptible shiver went through her frame, and then she became utterly still
as if she were made of stone. For a long moment she didn’t move at all, not
even to breathe, the only motion in her was that of her rapidly beating heart.
When at last she did move it was a smooth graceful motion, as if she were
focusing utterly on her walk.

She sat down on a small couch some
fifteen feet away, facing the window. Her face was hidden from me, but I could
sense that her eyes were closed when she spoke, “I’d like you to tell me what
happened please, while I still have my composure.”