C. S. Friedman - Magister 01, page 43
Andovan wanted to look back at Lianna and reassure her, but he didn’t. Never appear weak before a Magister, his father had taught him. They are like wolves beneath
those black robes, and will tear a man to pieces if he gives them the opening.
Knowing himself a prince of royal blood, trying to display the kind of confidence a prince should have, he led the way to Netando’s carriage, and did not look back.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The interior of the carriage was dark and musty but passably dry, its seats covered with once-opulent silk cushions that had been beaten flat by the rigors of past journeys. Colivar gestured for Andovan to precede him inside, wanting one last look at this witch his wayward prince had found.
How quietly she stood there. How patient. Not gawking, like the morati were. Not nervous, like the guards were. More… defiant. Her eyes glittered like cold, hard diamonds, and in truth they were the only part of her that he could see with any clarity; the spells of disguise that were wrapped around her were too tightly woven—too skillfully woven—for him to unravel them without considerable effort. Oh, Andovan’s own thoughts had revealed her as a woman, and bore witness to their recent intimacy, but trying to read her directly was like trying to read a book that had been sealed shut. All he could do was study the cover and wonder at the contents.
The spell he had cast on Andovan back in Danton’s realm was gone now; that much was clear to Colivar the first moment he saw the young prince. Which meant one of two things: either it had accomplished its purpose and expired naturally, or someone had banished it. Which was the more intriguing possibility? Could this diamond-eyed witch wrapped in the seeming of a young man be the one that all the Magisters were hunting? Parasite of princes, killer of Magisters, perhaps even a sorcerer in her own right? Even asking the question was dangerous, Colivar realized. If Andovan was truly her consort, then any attempt to scrutinize the link between them with sorcery might prove a fatal enterprise. Which is why he had not tried to do so yet.
A strange rush of excitement rippled through his veins at the sight of her. Let morati men drink in their fill of undying love and political passions; such things lost their power to affect a human soul after the tenth, hundredth, even thousandth repetition. For a Magister there was nothing more exciting than novelty, nothing more maddening than a mystery not yet explored. How many centuries had it been since Colivar had last seen something new come into the world? He could not even begin to count. Yet here there was something genuinely new, something that appeared to break all the rules of the world he lived in, perhaps the very first creature of its kind—and he was unable to give her the attention she deserved. Maddening.
If the Souleaters return there will soon be no world in which any of this matters, he reminded himself.
At last, with effort, he turned his eyes from the mysterious woman and stepped into the carriage himself. The shutters were already closed against the rain, leaving a small lantern whose wick had been turned down as the only source of light. In the flickering yellow glow he could see how pale Danton’s thirdborn son had become, even by normal measure. Colivar guessed Andovan had lost at least ten pounds since he’d seen him last, and the prince hadn’t had that much excess flesh on him to start with. The end was very close.
Kill her and it ends, he mused. How simple the words sounded, now that there was a face to attach the pronoun to. How complex they had suddenly become.
“Why have you come here?” Andovan asked. “Have you found the woman who cursed me? Can I end this search now, and deal with her?”
For a moment Colivar was startled. Then he thought, He doesn’t know. It seemed an incredible thought, from his vantage point. But the prince did not have any knowledge of the kind of parasitic relationship that was responsible for his condition, nor did he have any way to know that Colivar’s spell had served its purpose and expired. Furthermore… a delicate inspection with a whisper of power confirmed what the Magister should have suspected from the start. There was a spell woven about Andovan with foreign magic, skillfully crafted, that prevented him from feeling any manner of suspicion toward the woman who was traveling with him.
She was thorough, no question of that.
Her spells were sorcery. Though Colivar’s blood ran cold to acknowledge that fact, though the universe he inhabited was shaken to its very roots, there was no mistaking the nature of the power. Cold, it was, like a layer of ice in the arctic sea, slick, frigid water over a glittering black core. Witchery did not feel like that. Witchery did not draw the living heat out of a man until his very soul was frozen. Witches did not toy with a man as he was dying, either. Suddenly their recent sexual dalliance was cast in a new light. Even by Magister standards, the implications were chilling.
Concentrate on the moment, Colivar. Do what must be done.
He drew in a deep breath and said, “Forgive me, Prince Andovan. I did not intend to disturb you during your journey. But things have occurred in your homeland that require your attention. I am sorry to be the one that has to bring you word of it.”
Andovan stared at him for a moment as if he was out of his mind. “You mean… you want me to go home? Now?”
Colivar nodded.
With a huff Andovan leaned back against the carriage wall. “My father told me all Magisters were mad. It seems he spoke the truth.”
A faint smile flickered about Colivar’s lips, dry and humorless. “Regardless, Highness, my business is very real.”
“Well then.” He waved a hand in the air, a vaguely regal gesture. “Tell me about it.”
So he did. Slowly at first, making sure Andovan understood the potential gravity of the situation before he went into details. He needn’t have bothered. As soon as he said the word “Souleater” the prince stiffened in his seat, and he did not relax again for all the rest of the telling.
He hissed softly when Colivar was done, a strangely visceral sound. “So they are not merely legend.”
“No, Highness. They are quite real.”
“Mother spoke of them. Often. It’s part of her religion, you know. She said that her people believed they would come back someday. That a great war would be waged, upon which the fate of mankind would depend.” He shook his head. “Who thought it would be in my lifetime?”
“If you know the legends,” Colivar said quietly, “then you understand the danger.”
Andovan looked up at him. In the shadows of the carriage his eyes seemed black and bottomless. “That Souleaters would devour the world, if they could? Yes. I understand.”
Colivar drew in a deep breath. I can’t believe I am
about to say this to a morati. “We believe your father’s new Magister may be allied to them somehow. And that your father serves them through that tie, probably without even knowing it. If he understood what was happening, if he grasped the magnitude of the danger… some feel he might rethink his course.”
Andovan’s eyes went wide. For a moment it seemed he could not find his voice. “Is that what you want me for?” He said at last. “To explain all this to my father?”
“Ramirus says you are the only one who can. That he will listen to you.”
“Aye, he listened to me. When I was alive!” He tried to rise up in protest, but the close quarters of the carriage didn’t allow for such a movement; with a sharp exhalation he sat back down on the bench, his hands rubbing restlessly against one another. “Have you forgotten what we did to him, Colivar? What you did? Lianna’s veils! You think he will take advice from me after that?”
“He can be told the truth now,” Colivar said evenly. “In whatever words will make it acceptable. I will take all the blame if necessary, he can direct his fury at me—”
“What words?” Andovan demanded. “What words will you give me to tell a man like Danton Aurelius that his own son played him for a fool, drove him into mourning when there was no reason for it, cost him his Magister Royal, then drove him to the brink of madness—yes, I’ve heard the stories!—and for what? So I could take a quick tour of the provinces with no one looking over my shoulder, and then come home again?” He drew in a deep breath. “He will have my head, Colivar. Before I get as far as the second word of whatever speech you have planned. If you do not think so, then you do not know my father.”
“Then there is no hope,” Colivar said grimly. “Is that what you are telling me?”
“What about the Magisters?” he demanded. “If what you say is true, the real offender is one of your own kind. Can you not get control of him somehow, or even take him down if you have to? I know you have some custom about not fighting one another, but it seems to me this kind of situation should merit an exception. Or is the danger enough for morati kings, but not sufficient to inconvenience Magisters?”
Colivar stiffened. We have the Law, but you cannot possibly understand what that is to us. Morati have no memory of what Magisters did to this world before the Law was created. If they did then they would fear us far more than they do. They might well have second thoughts about wanting us to share this world with them.
“We will not act directly against a Magister,” he said quietly. “Nor against Danton, while he is contracted to one. Not even for this.”
“Well, then.” Andovan exhaled noisily and leaned back against the wall. “That is your answer about hope, then.” He shut his eyes, rubbing them wearily with his fingertips. “What about my mother? Can she help?”
“Gwynofar?”
“He listens to her counsel. More than he ever did with me. Even Ramirus sought her aid when dealing with Danton on sensitive matters. She calms my father. Always has.”
Colivar hesitated. It surprised him to discover that he did not wish to cause the young prince any more pain than he already had. A strangely human feeling. “Danton hurt her,” he said gently. “I don’t know the details. According to reports, she won’t go near him now.”
Andovan’s face lost the last of its color. “What? What did he do to her? Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” Colivar lied. “I’m sorry.”
Andovan turned away from him as much as he could in the small space. Colivar let him withdraw without protest.
“What is happening to him?” the prince said at last. “I don’t understand. He was always a harsh man, quick to anger, but Mother brought out the best in him. He told me once she was the one thing in all the kingdom that kept him sane. She and Ramirus.” He bit his lower lip. “Now the one is gone and the other afraid to approach him… no wonder he is going mad. He is surrounded by rivals and false counselors, with enemies around every corner, and no one to trust. Even the strongest king would have trouble at such a time.”
And there is a Magister hovering over him like a vulture, ready to take advantage of it. “You see why he needs you,” Colivar said quietly.
“You can say that a thousand times, but it will not keep my head on my shoulders.”
Colivar exhaled noisily in exasperation. “Then where is hope? You tell me, Highness. You know the man and you know his court—”
“—And I know you are his enemy, Colivar. Or has that changed? Why would I give an enemy knowledge of his situation?”
Colivar’s jaw clenched for a moment. “This is bigger than morati politics,” he said at last.
“Yet you did not send Ramirus to me, to make this request. A Magister I would have trusted. So perhaps it is not.”
Colivar’s expression darkened. “Ramirus hates your father more than the whole of Anshasa put together. He will not do anything to help him.”
“That is rather shortsighted, don’t you think? Assuming the danger is what you say it is.”
“In that one thing Magisters and men are alike, Highness. Both are capable of ignoring bad news when it is something they do not wish to hear.” He paused.
“Ramirus told us there were only two people who knew Danton well enough to influence him in this matter: your mother and yourself. Both born of Protector’s blood. Is it not the duty of your line to deal with these creatures? To whom else shall that duty be given, if you fail to meet it?”
Anger flared briefly in the prince’s eyes, but he did not give voice to it. Because I am right, Colivar thought, and he knows it Finally he said, in a voice as chill as ice, “You can get me to the palace?”
“To its vicinity. Not inside. Kostas will have woven a network of wards so tightly about the place that any sorcery will draw his immediate attention. Setting you down inside will mean announcing our arrival to him. Not a good idea.”
“Location is not an issue. I know a way in.”
Colivar nodded. The palace had been a fortified keep once, outfitted for war, and that meant that one or more siege tunnels would have been carved out of the surrounding countryside to give the royal family a route to safety if enemies surrounded the place. They were doubtless protected with enough spells to keep strangers from finding them, but Andovan would know the way.
“I will go,” Andovan said. “I will talk to my mother. I will see what she has to say about the situation, and urge her to take action if the situation merits it. Nothing more than that, Colivar. Any other course else is certain death, and while I do not mind dying for a cause, dying for an act of pointless stupidity is not nearly so appealing.”
Colivar let out a breath he had not realized he’d been holding. “I thank you, Highness.”
“Should I ever discover you are using this situation to manipulate me against my father…” He let the sentence trail off into a suggestive silence
If I did you would never know it, Colivar thought darkly. I would wrap such spells about your heart that you would beg to serve me, and would cut your own mother’s throat if I told you that I wanted her blood for my dinner table.
“The Law forbids me to act against Danton,” he said quietly. It wasn’t really true—the only action the Law prohibited was killing a Magister’s patron—but the boy didn’t have to know that. The less morati understood of the secretive code of the Magisters, the better.
“We leave now, I take it?”
Colivar nodded. “As soon as you are ready.”
Andovan glanced towards the door of the coach and hesitated. Colivar could guess from his expression what was on his mind.
“There is someone here. A witch. She saved my life. I would ask—”
“She may come with us,” Colivar said quickly. “I will transport her as well. Assuming she agrees.”
Andovan blinked. “I expected you to argue with me.”
“I have my own reasons.”
She will not abandon you willingly, Colivar thought. Whatever perverse desire drove her to seduce her food, she will not want to let you go just yet. He did not need sorcery to know that; the truth of it had been in her eyes. They were strange eyes, green and cold, with depths that glittered like diamonds. He remembered the Souleaters having eyes like that. Or maybe not. It was hard to be sure, with so many years veiling his memories. How many centuries had it been since he had last seen one up close?
You will see them soon enough if they are returning, he told himself. And they will know your scent for what it is as soon as they catch wind of you.
He had no doubt that Andovan’s sorceress would accept the invitation. Whatever had driven her to track down and seduce her victim, she would not wish to give up control of him so soon. And Andovan was clearly smitten with her, in that impulsive and sometimes senseless way to which young men were prone. As for Colivar, he could see possible uses for such a creature in Danton’s realm, most likely as a prime distraction. If Kostas realized there was a female sorcerer in his realm, he might not pay as close attention to other things. That could be useful.
Those were the reasons he gave himself, and they were good enough that he did not have to ask himself any more precise questions about his own motives, or wonder how many risks he would be willing to take for an opportunity to study her more closely.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Minute they arrived in the High Kingdom Kamala could see that something was wrong.
She’d had second thoughts about entrusting herself to a strange Magister’s sorcery, but there was no real alternative. She was not about to surrender Talesin a mere hour after discovering what he was, least of all to another sorcerer, and that meant she had to come with him. Either that or do battle with the Magister who had come to fetch him, and stake her territorial claim in terms he could not deny. She was almost angry enough to do that, too. What right did another man have to claim the source of her power?
But confronting him upon the issue meant revealing far more about herself and her consort than she wanted a stranger to know. And as it turned out, Talesin was more than just a noble-born wanderer. He was actually in the direct line of inheritance for the throne of the High Kingdom—arguably the greatest throne in the human lands—and the politics surrounding his lineage apparently now required that he return home.
He explained that to her as well as he could, then asked her to come with him. The black-haired Magister was not within sight at the time—he had walked off a bit to give them a modicum of privacy—but she could sense him in the distance: anxious, impatient. Was he using his sorcerous senses to listen in on their conversation? Kamala would have done so if their positions were reversed.
Colivar. That was the name Talesin had given him. She’d felt a chill go down her spine when he said it, remembering that name from one of Ethanus’ lessons. What had her Master said about him? Colivar is older than most of our kind, and has knowledge of many truths the morati world has forgotten. He is more human than most Magisters in his demeanor, but less human than most in substance, and for that reason he is often underestimated, especially by younger sorcerers.
I will not make that mistake, she promised her teacher silently.
Under normal circumstances she would have disdained Colivar’s aid and simply traveled on her own— if for no other reason than to enjoy the Magister’s surprise when she did it—but such a large expenditure of athra would cost her consort dearly. And she was no more ready to magic him to death a mere hour after discovering his true identity than to let some legendary Magister run off with him.
