A Dragon From the Desert, page 10
“What do you have against Todd?” I asked.
Jay turned on his heel and said, “it’s not Todd he hates. It’s his master.”
“Vorster?”
Jay nodded.
“Why?”
“He dick.” Ghoran said.
“It’s about a girl,” Jay said. “What else could it be about? For some reason she preferred a noble knight to a penniless barbarian axeman. Imagine that– a whore choosing the man with the most money.”
I was embarrassed by the way the talk was going. It was the sort of thing my parents forbade us to speak about.
“Anya beautiful girl though,” said Ghoran. “I saw first.”
“Maybe that’s how it works in the barbarian north,” Jay said. “Although I doubt it. It certainly doesn’t work that way in the brothels of Solsburg.”
“I offer penny she ask for.”
“And he offered her silver. Which would you rather be paid?”
“It depend who does the paying and for what. If Todd’s mother offer gold for me to sleep with and Anya offer silver, I choose Anya.”
“And outside the realm of such fantasies, most people would choose the gold. Am I right?” Jay looked at me.
“I suppose,” I said.
“You see, even the farm boy agrees with me.”
“He no farm boy now. He Grinner’s servant.”
“And I’m sure that’s a big step up in life for him,” Jay said. “From chasing goats to doing chores for a mad magician.”
“She does not seem mad to me,” I said.
“They’re all mad,” said Jay. “Or they go that way in the end. They start seeing things, hearing voices, talking to people who are not there.”
“They might be there, you just no see them,” said Ghoran. “They wizards. You no.”
“And aren’t I glad of that,” said Jay. “Well at least you can be grateful you’re not her apprentice.”
I was suddenly very curious. “Why’s that?”
“Because the last two both died. Under suspicious circumstances.”
Jay lowered his voice and Ghoran moved closer. They had that conspiratorial look young men get when sharing gossip.
“Suspicious? How so?” I allowed my very real interest to show.
“Malcolm got a dagger in his back in an alley in Solsburg. Gerard was poisoned.”
I remembered what Mistress Iliana had told me. I pretended ignorance. “Do you mean he was bit by a snake?”
“No, I mean he drank a goblet of wine laced with something that disagreed with him…fatally.”
“It might have been bad wine.”
“Maybe but both Ghoran and I drank goblets poured from the same bottle and we were none the worse for it.
“Jay have stinking hangover next day. Cry like baby. Boo hoo.”
“Who would want her apprentices dead?” I asked.
“Word has it that she had some kind of falling out with her old master and the cabal of wizards he belonged to.”
“Why kill the apprentices? Why not just go after her?”
“She’s too well protected. And maybe they just wanted to send her message.”
“Couldn’t they just get Zhul the Peddler to bring one, like everybody else?”
“That’s not the way wizards do things,” said Jay.
“Jay expert on wizards,” said Ghoran. “He know everything.”
“I know enough. I grew up in Solsburg and there’s a half a dozen of them there. They’re mixed up in politics and business and warfare. They own half the town. Sometimes I think there’s truth in the tales of secret cabals of wizards conspiring to rule the world.”
“They should just move to Northlands,” said Ghoran. “Wizard-priests rule in Old Ones name.”
“Then they’d have to submit to your Old Ones,” said Jay. “Hell, maybe Vorster is right and they already do.”
“I pretty sure Grinner no take orders from Old Ones,” said Ghoran.
“Maybe that’s why the others are after her.”
Ghoran just laughed.
“You’d best be careful,” said Jay. “Now that’s she’s run out of apprentices, whoever is doing the killings might start on her servants next.”
He set off towards the bush to reclaim his bolts. I stood there horrified. A dagger in the back. Poison. Mistress Iliana had told me her apprentices had died but not how. This conversation made it all so much more real.
“No worry,” said Ghoran. “He wrong. No kill servants. You safe long as no one mistake you for apprentice.”
Was there a note of warning in his voice? It was hard to tell. His speech held the same mocking quality as always.
Chapter Eleven
“Someone just told me how your last two apprentices died, mistress,” I said.
She looked up from within the circle of runes she had been drawing in the hard-dried earth and said, “I made no secret of that.”
She did not need to look around to see if we were being overheard because there was no one camping close to us. The wagon was pitched away from the main body of troops, close to the edge of the Bleak Lands. No sentries stood near us. I wondered at this change of position, but she had not seen fit to explain her reasons to me.
“They told me that one of them was stabbed in the back and that another was poisoned.”
“And that has you worried?”
“Wouldn’t it worry you, mistress?”
“It would. And I can see that you’re curious and will not leave it alone so what exactly is it that you want to know?”
Nearby the cart horses loomed, hulking shadows. Overhead the cold stars glittered. The temperature was dropping. I considered my words carefully, unsure of how she would respond.
“The soldiers think your apprentices were murdered by your enemies, mistress,” I said. I did not want to tell her who told me because I feared she might do something to them.
She continued to trace the rune as she spoke. “They may well be right.”
Her mouth shut like a trap and she glanced at me sidelong as if to see how I was taking this information.
“Who might these enemies be, mistress?” I was hoping she might mention some secret cabal of wizards, let me know more about the world I had entered. She chose to talk around the subject, to reinforce the warning she had already given me.
“They could be any of a number of people. Wizards have enemies the same as everybody else. They probably have more since there are many people who feel they have reason to hate anyone who can use magic. People are very suspicious of us and rightly so.”
I sat there listening carefully. I did not like the way she used the word us. I was nothing like her. I did not have her power or her prestige. People were not afraid of me. And yet it appeared that if I wanted to progress further down this path, I risked being murdered by enemies unknown.
She took my silence as evidence of the fact that I was paying careful attention. “You can’t really blame them. After all wizards can manipulate the fundamental forces of nature. More than that, a wizard can bind another’s will, make them think whatever the wizard wants, forget whatever the wizard wants, do whatever the wizard wants.”
“Can you really do that, mistress?” I asked, catching a sudden fearful glimpse of the possibilities that lay in my future.
“It does not matter what I can or cannot do. It matters what people think I can. The fact that some wizards can do these things is enough.”
She paused to let that sink in.
“You’re saying that people fear that we have secret power over them without them even knowing it.”
“Precisely so.” Once again, she sounded pleased with how quick I was on the uptake and once again I felt a small surge of pride. “They think that, and they are wary.”
She had not answered my question. In fact, she seemed to be manoeuvring away from it but I was fascinated by what she had to say. She raised her flask and took a small sip from it. I began to wonder if it was magical. I had never seen her refill it.
She licked her lips and turned to look at me again. Her long lean fingers traced the pattern of the elder sign on the drum without her even looking at it. I wondered if the sign was embossed or whether she just knew the position from long practise.
“It was a wizard who had my apprentices murdered,” she said. The words hung in the air, sudden, shocking. “Few mundani would dare such a thing.”
“Mundani, mistress?”
“It’s how the old Solari texts refer to people without the ability to wield the Power.”
“A knife and poison. These do not seem like the weapons of a wizard, mistress.”
Her laughter was soft and bitter. “Do not be naive. A spell carries a recognisable signature. Even if it did not, using a spell would be a sure giveaway as to the nature of the murderer and would stir up the mundani.”
“I can see how that would happen but why would a wizard risk using a dagger or poison? They might get caught either way.”
“I did not say a wizard committed the murders. I said they were responsible. Do you understand the difference?”
“They paid someone to do it.” Paying someone to commit murder was a shocking thought. And yet I did not doubt for a moment someone would. She had already mentioned the Crimson Brotherhood.
“They worked through agents. Yes.”
“Who would do such a thing?” It all kept coming back to that.
“My former master for one.” She spoke those words with visible reluctance. It was hard to imagine this terrifying woman playing the same role as I now did, but it was only logical that she had. Everyone must learn from someone.
“Why would he do that?”
“We did not part on the best of terms.”
Her eyes bored into mine as if she was trying to read my soul. Naive as I was, I understood that she was looking for some sign that we would part in a similar way. I knew that I would not like to have her for my enemy.
“Are such things common, mistress?”
“No. They are quite rare. In most cases it benefits both master and pupil to remain amicable. There is usually a level of trust between them. They can swap knowledge and they make natural allies. Indeed, many schools and guilds are formed by masters and apprentices and apprentices of apprentices. Such people usually have a common interest and a common style of magic.”
“Style?”
“A means of invoking their powers, of casting spells. They share teachings and a common language and vocabulary of technique.”
I considered the implications of this. It seemed that not all wizards were the same or used the same methods. Another thought struck me. “Does your former master have such allies? Do you?”
“No. We followed an independent path. Few of the mageborn want to be war wizards.”
“Is that what you are, mistress, a war wizard.”
She nodded. “It is one of the most feared and fearsome paths. If the mundani have reason to fear wizards, they have even more reason to be frightened of those who follow the path of destruction.”
“Why do you follow it?”
She looked out into the darkness, took another small sip from the flask. “It is where my talents lie.”
Her hand stopped its movement on the drum. The serpent of fire stirred within. I felt suddenly fearful of it, even though I did not know why. “You are curious now,” she said. “Aren’t you?”
I was curious about everything she had said but she seemed to have some specific question in mind. She waited and her fingers tapped at the drum. It sounded loud in the darkness.
“I am, mistress,” I could think of nothing else to say.
“You are wondering what your own talents are.”
“I am wondering what these talents you speak of are, mistress.”
“At least you are honest.” She considered her words for a moment then spoke. “Have you ever been good at anything?”
“I was good with the goats, mistress.”
“Did it come naturally to you?”
“I don’t know, mistress. I worked with them so long.”
“No matter. Most people have something that they are good at, that they pick up easily. With some people the gifts are obvious– they are a good singer, or they are very strong or they are very quick. Some learn weapons easily. Some can draw or paint.”
I thought I saw where she was going with this. “Some people have a gift for magic.”
She shook her head. “Anyone who is a wizard has that gift. A talent is something more– it’s an affinity for certain spells or certain types of magic. Some are good at healing. Some are good at divination. And some, like me, are good at destroying things.”
“Why is that, mistress?”
“Why am I good at destroying things? Or why do wizards have different talents? The answer is most likely the same. We are born that way. It’s something passed down to us, like red hair or great height or blue eyes. The gift of the Power is like that so why should talents not be?”
“I don’t know mistress.”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“What’s that?”
She smiled. “You are so sharp I forget your education has been sadly lacking. It is a question to which you already know the answer, asked for the purpose of eliciting a certain response in the listener.”
I said, “You were talking about talents, mistress.”
“I was. And no doubt you are wondering what yours is.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“It will become evident as you learn.”
“And when will I start doing that, mistress?”
“It’s what you are doing now.”
It had not occurred to me until then that it was so but once the realisation hit me, I knew that she had been teaching me since the conversation started, perhaps since long before. She must have seen the knowledge written on my face because she said, “There are many ways of learning and many things to learn about magic. It is not all casting spells and making lights shine.”
“I can see that mistress,” I said. My eyes were downcast, and I could not keep the disappointment out of my voice. I wanted to learn to cast spells as desperately as a man lost in the Bleak Lands craves water. It was the reason I was here, the reason why I had signed that contract and left home.
“You are troubled and that is understandable. But you need to realise something– the fact that you drew light from that stone was a mistake on my part. I merely wanted to test your potential. I never expected you to make it glow. That was a sign of astonishing talent. It is natural for you to want to use it but you have to learn how to do so safely, in a way that will not get us both killed.”
“I understand.” No doubt my expression was sullen.
“This is a serious matter. The most serious we will ever talk about. We are involved in something extremely dangerous you and I. Many things can go wrong when one of the mageborn comes into their power. And those things that go wrong have terrible consequences– madness, mutilation, death. Magic is like fire, boy. It has many uses, but you can easily burn yourself, or burn down your house or your town. There have been times when magic has burned kingdoms. Some say it has burned whole worlds. You would not want your baby sister to play at an open fire, would you?”
“I am not three summers old,” I said.
“Then behave like it. When you use magic, you are playing with a lit torch in a barn full of hay that has been dried in the summer heat. You need to remember that.”
“You are impressing this on my mind most successfully, mistress.”
“I doubt it, unless you are unlike every other apprentice who ever lived. If I have, I will count myself a great success as a teacher.”
She reached inside her jerkin and produced an amulet. It was a simple thing. The setting was made of copper. In the middle was a white stone that caught the moonlight like a pearl.
“Do you know what this?”
“How could I, mistress? I am but a simple farm boy.”
“Spare me the mock humility. It does not suit you. This is wraithstone. It is found in the deserts surrounding the Graveyard of Angels. Have you ever heard of it?”
“No, mistress.”
“Some say it is the solidified blood of all those dead angels. Which may be true. It is one of the greatest wards against corruption a wizard can employ.”
“A ward, mistress?” I could not help myself. I leaned forward. She had succeeded in catching my attention once more. When I looked closely, I could see the stone was not pure white. Tiny threads of blackness, like ink dropped in water, swirled within it.
“Wraithstone absorbs the evil effects of blight.” There was no need for me to ask what blight was. Anyone who grew up in the Bleak Lands knew what that sour tainted land was and how living near it twisted things mentally and physically. “The stone starts out pure white but as it absorbs the taint of evil magic it grows darker and eventually crumbles.”
“How long does that take, mistress?”
“It depends on how strong the taint is. A stone like this can last a mage for years if she restricts herself to certain spells cast only when needed. It can last for mere days if you walk through the heart of a Shadowblight and it still won’t protect you at all if you eat tainted meat or drink tainted water.”
I knew about the way blights affected animals and water. I grasped the point she was making. “You are saying there is a connection between magic and blight.”
She smiled as if once again gratified by my quick understanding. “All magic carries the taint of Shadow to a greater or lesser extent. Any time you use a spell you expose yourself to the possibility of corruption.”
“Which is why you wear that amulet, mistress,” I said. “And why it contains those dark lines.”
“Correct.”
The night seemed suddenly still. Somewhere in the distance I heard the lonely howl of a blight wolf. It thrilled me strangely as I saw the connection between that twisted monster and the use of magic. I do not know why. Perhaps it was just the feeling that I had gained an insight into the way the world worked.
Mistress Iliana tapped her fingers on her drum, stood up and walked to the edge of her wards. She peered out into the darkness as if looking for something then she turned and walked slowly back to where I still sat. She hunkered down beside me, closed her eyes, muttered something under her breath. I felt something swirl around me. The hackles on the back of my neck rose. She was using magic. I wanted to ask what she was doing but I did not dare interrupt her.
