The Innocent Mage (49 page)

‘Enough.’

‘Any deaths? Injuries?’

‘Too many.’

‘And are the people behaving ‘emselves? Namin’ no names, I can think of one or two as might see in all this woe; and wail a chance to line their own pockets with somebody” else’s misfortune. Certain tradesfolk, for instance.’

‘The same thought had occurred to me,’ said Orrick, an appreciative glimmer in his dark eyes. ‘Don’t fret. I’ve my eye on one or two … opportunists. Naming no names,of course.’

‘Good,’ said Asher. ‘So there be nowt I need to take care of straightaway?’

Orrick shook his head. ‘Not straightaway. I’ve a report on its way to the Tower for you, as it happens. It can wait a day or two, before we meet on it.’

‘Can it wait a week?’ said Asher hopefully.

‘Perhaps,’ said Orrick, smiling. ‘Now ride on, Meister Assistant. It’s an offence to interfere with a guardsman doing his duty, you know.’

‘Y’don’t say,’ said Asher. ‘Fancy that.’ With a gentle kick; and a tug on the reins he urged Cygnet and Ballodair into a i shambling walk and kept on riding. After three strides he’ turned his head, just a little, and added over his shouldet; ‘Glad to see you’re all right, Captain.’

Orrick’s laughter was soft in the descending dusk. ‘And: the same to you, Asher. The same to you.’

Cheered, Asher continued the long way round and entered Dorana through the private royal gate high up behind the palace. The startled guards waved him through; he lifted a hand to them, nodding, but didn’t dawdle. The

picked their way along the bridlepaths and in :en the flowerbeds by starlight and the Wall’s golden i, heads drooping almost to their knees. Ballodair still gged sullenly against his bridle, so that Asher thought |isarm must soon pull free from his shoulder. k energetic chorus of whinnies greeted their plodding into the Tower stable yard. A few of the lads abled downstairs from their dormitory to see what all the is was about. Matt, who was sitting on an upturned bucket iding a head collar by lamplight, leapt to his feet. Leather, idle and waxed thread fell unheeded to the ground. rl save us,’ he breathed, coming forward to stare at :hy, overwrought horses. ‘Asher, what have you done m?’ A wave of his hand brought a gaping lad over. \ take Ballodair. Into his stable with him, quick, and ,dyou handle him gently. You know what to do.’ As Duffy obeyed, still gaping, Asher wriggled his fingers

g. ‘Hey, Matt.’

tt swore. His hand rested on Cygnet’s trembling er, soothing, stroking. ‘Damn it, Asher. Get off that xly horse now, before you fall off.’

I It was an enticing notion. He’d had enough of saddles id horses to last a lifetime. But the ground looked a long ly down. He wasn’t sure he could reach it safely. The last I his strength had drained away; the stables, the jering lads, the pools of lamplight and Matt’s frowning ceall blurred together. The world faded. * Uerl’ He dragged his eyelids open. ‘I’m right here,’

‘Don’t shout.’

‘Where’s the prince?’

‘Up at the palace, I s’pose.’ Asher’s eyes drifted shut pin. ‘King and queen met us in a carriage, on the road. I went with them.’

It snapped his fingers at the nearest lad. ‘Mikel! Off with you and bring back a jug of strong cider.

On my chit, tell Derrig. Now! Run!’ The lad bolted, and Matt came closer. Punched Asher’s knee with a light fist. ‘Reckon the horses aren’t the only ones pushed over the line. Can you get down all right?’

The rough, kind voice was almost his undoing. ‘Course I can!’ he growled. ‘What d’you take me for, some namby-pamby City Doranen?’ Leaning forward, swallowing a groan, he half slithered, half fell out of the saddle. Only Matt’s strong arm saved him from humiliation.

‘Steady now,’ his friend said. ‘I’ve got you.’

On a shuddering, indrawn breath, he managed to straighten. Stared after poor footsore Cygnet as Jim’l led him away. ‘Sorry about the horses, Matt. We thought the king was dead.’

Matt pulled a face. ‘You weren’t the only ones.’

‘We rode back as fast as we could. Cross-country nearly all the way.’

‘The storm reached all the way down to the coast?’

‘Damn near flattened Westwailing. We were out on the harbour when it hit. Gar almost —’ He shook his head. Flaming thunderbolts. Scarlet lightning. Waves towering overhead and the boat standing on end. Gar smashed over the side into the raging ocean. Another memory he wanted no truck with. Not for a good long while, any road.

Matt’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. ‘What is it? What happened?’

‘Nothing. It don’t matter. Matt …’ He could feel his knees shake, threatening to buckle. ‘Reckon I need to sit down.’

‘Lie down, more like,’ said Matt, snorting. He slid his arm around Asher’s back. ‘Let’s get you —’

No, no, no. That wasn’t going to work. Pain streaked his vision blood red. ‘I can walk,’ he gasped and managed, just, to pull free.

‘There’s a cot in the yard office,’ said Matt, one hand hovering. ‘We had a horse or two hurt in the worst of it.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Nursemaid Matt. Horses all right?’ ‘They will be. Are you walking or talking?’ He took a tentative step forward. ‘I can do both.’ ‘Maybe, but do you have to?’

The short distance to the office felt almost as long as the ride from Westwailing. Matt shadowed him every inch. Sent the remaining lads back about their business with a barked command. Opened the office door for him and guided him to the cot.

‘You had it bad up here too?’ he asked as he lowered his abused and shrieking body to the rough bed. Laid his head on a pillow for the first time in days, and closed his eyes. The glory of it stole his breath.

1’Bad enough,’ Matt’s voice said above him. He hesitated. Dathne’s fine … if you were wondering.’ He prised his eyelids open. Was he wondering? No. Maybe. ‘What about you?’

Matt shrugged. ‘I’m fine too. Glad you’re back.’

He wasn’t. ‘And the king’s all right then, is he? Not dead, I saw that, but —’

‘There was some kind of crisis. That fever. Word is he’s well on the mend now. Asher, did you know there’s blood on your shirt?’

‘I’ll survive.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’ Matt turned away, opened a cupboard and took out a stoppered clay pot of something that smelled potent. This’ll do till we can get Pother Nix to see you.’

He groaned. ‘I don’t need that ole bone-botherer fussin’ and fartin’ all over me.’

‘Didn’t ask you that either,’ said Matt. ‘Just hold your tongue for once, if you can, and let somebody help you.’

‘Nursemaid bloody Matt,’ Asher muttered, then hissed as Matt pulled his shirt up.

‘Well,’ said Matt eventually, after a humming silence. ‘Good thing I made up a new batch of ointment, ain’t it?’

The first touch of the salve on his wounds had him gasping. Face pressed into the dark anonymity of the pillow, hands fisted by his sides, Asher chewed his lip bloody as Mart’s gentle fingers woke fire in his battered flesh. Then, • mercifully, the burning faded and instead there was blessed numbness.

Dimly he heard the office door open. Heard Matt say, softly, ‘Well done, Mikel. Put it on the table there and close the door behind you. Tell Duff and Jim’l I’ll be out directly to check on those horses.’

The quiet thunk of a stone jug on wood. The door closing again. A sloshing sound as liquid was poured from the jug into something smaller. Then Matt was helping him up. ‘Drink this.’ He pressed a mug into his hand. ‘Derrig’s best.’

The cold cider slid easily down his dry throat, welcome as a lover’s kiss. He emptied the mug in two swallows. Emptied it again. And again. Then he lowered his head to the pillow once more. Was aware, just, of a thin blanket settling over him. Of Matt, staring down at him. Of the yard office receding like a wave from the shore.

He let the waters close over his head and surrendered to sleep.

Two hours later, startled by a sound, Matt looked up from his sleepy vigil in the office to see Gar standing in the open doorway. The prince looked as tired as Asher. Fading bruises marked his face. Some cuts and scratches. Shadows under his eyes.

He stood. ‘Sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t —’

Gar held up his hand and moved to the cot. ‘It’s all right.’ He was whispering. ‘How is he?’

Matt shrugged. ‘I’ve doctored him as best I can, sir, but it’s Pother Nix he’s needing.’

Gar was frowning down at Asher. ‘He’ll have him. Did he tell you .what happened?’

‘No, sir.’

Gar told him. Briefly. Brutally. ‘From the day he got here lie was planning his triumphant return to Restharven. Imagining his father’s pleasure. Daydreaming the boat they’d sail together. And for the last eight months …’

Wrung with horrified sympathy, Matt stared at his sleeping friend. ‘Damn. Sir.’

The prince’s expression was cool. Guarded. ‘So long as his brothers live he can never go back to the coast.’

Damn. This was what Dathne had foreseen then, when she said so confidently that Asher would return. Not for the first time he felt relief that he was not Jervale’s Heir, cursed with foresight and Prophecy.

The prince said, ‘How are the horses?’

Anger and duty warred. Duty won, just. ‘They’ll do, sir. In time.’

Gar wasn’t fooled. ‘I’d have spared them if I could, Matt.’ He nodded at the cot, where Asher lay on his stomach like a corpse. ‘I’d have spared him, too.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘He can’t stay here.’

‘I know, sir. I’ll see him safe to his own bed once he wakes.’

Gar considered him. ‘You’re a good man, Matt. A good friend.’

The words twisted his guts like a knife. ‘I try to be, sir.’

‘He’ll need his friends, I think, in the next little while. He’s lost his whole family.’ The prince shuddered. T can’t imagine …’

‘No, sir,’ said Matt. Then added, hesitantly, ‘Sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, you should be in bed too. You’ve ridden as far and as hard as Asher. If you want the truth of it, you look fair worn out.’

Gar smiled. ‘Do I?’ Stirring, he turned. ‘I suppose you’re right. Show me the horses, quickly, and I’ll be on my way.’

After the prince had seen his Ballodair, and Cygnet too, fed them carrots and petted them, he left the quiet stable yard. Matt watched him go, then hesitated. He’d thought to wait till morning to tell Dathne of Asher’s return. There’d seemed little point in summoning her to the stables at nighttime only to show her his sleeping body. But now …

His calling stone lay hidden in his pocket, twin to the one Dathne carried. Closing his fingers hard around the small crystal he opened the link between them. Sought her fierce, unquiet mind with his and whispered her name.

Half an hour later she arrived, crackling with excitement. He met her under the stable yard archway. ‘Where is he?’ she demanded. ‘How long ago did he get back?’

If there was any unease in her, any sense of awkwardness given the manner of her parting with Asher, she didn’t show it. But then she wouldn’t. ‘He rode in a short while ago. Dathne …’

She was frowning. She knew him so well; it was getting harder to decide if that was a good thing, or a bad. ‘Tell me.’

He repeated what the prince had told him. Watched her closely as she absorbed the news, looking for some small sign of sorrow. Looked in vain. Her eyes glittered. ‘So. His ties to the past are broken. He belongs to us now.’

Sometimes the hardness in her hurt him. ‘Is that all you can say?’

She met his hot gaze coldly. ‘It’s all that matters.’

He tried to turn away from her, tried to hide his eyes. She wouldn’t let him. ‘His father’s dead, Dathne!’ he cried. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘Not what you want it to mean. There’ll be a lot more dead fathers in this kingdom if we fail in our duty, Matt.’ She let go of his arm. Til see him now.’

‘I don’t think he wants to see you, Dathne. Not yet,

anyway.’

She shrugged. ‘And if he’s sleeping, he won’t.’

He had to wait a moment before he could trust himself to follow her quietly, calmly, into the yard office. She was kneeling beside the cot. Either Asher had rolled himself onto his back, or she’d done it. Her left hand was on his unresponsive wrist and the ringers of her right hand pressed against his forehead.

‘What are you doing? He needs to rest.’ She looked up. There was the faintest spark of alarm in her eyes. ‘He has a fever, did you know?’

He realised then that Asher’s breathing was loud. Laboured. Saw that his face had flushed from pale to hectic. His lips were dry and his head tossed uneasily on the cot’s pillow. Taken aback, he clutched at the door. ‘He was all right when he got here. Exhausted and in pain, but not —’ Her glare scalded him. ‘Well, he’s not all right now!’ No, he wasn’t. Matt laid his hand on Asher’s burning forehead. Heard the rattle in his chest. Pressed cold fingers to the pulse point in his throat and felt the echoes of his friend’s thundering heart. ‘I’ll send for Pother Nix and alert the prince.’

She stood, and pulled her shawl tight. ‘Yes, you do that. I’ll tell Veira Asher’s back. The Circle can help here. I’ll ask her to link with the others in a distant healing.’

Matt chewed his lip. ‘How can that work? They don’t even know him.’

‘They know of him,’ she snapped. ‘And it’s better than doing nothing.’

She’d slap him if he argued, so he nodded and stood aside to let her leave. As the door slammed shut behind her and the sound of her running feet faded, he looked again at Asher.

Then he throttled fear and went outside to rouse the I lads.

Dathne was breathless by the time she reached home. Flinging herself up the shop stairs to her apartment, dragging her Circle Stone from its hiding place, dropping to the floor with it in her sweating hands: blind panic consumed her, crowding out all sense and cool collection.

He cannot die, he cannot die, he cannot cannot must not die …

She’d never make the connection to Veira like this. Linking the Circle Stones required a peaceful, meditative state. A calm heart. Her hands were shaking.

Setting the crystal aside she lay flat on the floor. Closed her eyes, and made an effort to breathe out the fear.

He cannot die, he cannot die, he cannot cannot must not die …

His father was dead. What a cruel thing. What a harsh way to serve the will of Prophecy. But then Prophecy had no father, no mother, no child, nor even a heart to break. It just was. Implacable. Unknowable. A spear tip lodged deep in the mind. No matter the pain, however the heartbreak, Asher would survive his loss. Prophecy needed him. And what Prophecy wanted, Prophecy got, one way or another.