by Beth Alvarez
His eyes drifted toward the windows as he flexed his fingers. For as much as his joints pained him in the tropics, he dared not imagine how he might have fared if he hadn't come to the island. He'd seen the founding of Kirban Temple, saw the way the mages changed life on the island. Every major city had become home to a chapter house full of mages, and most minor cities had at least one mage of their own to look after their people. Or they had, before the disaster that had befallen the temple. Nondar grimaced at the thought as he pushed himself from his chair and made his way to the windows.
The view of the temple grounds still pained him, though it had improved. He had lived in the temple's central tower since he became Master of the House of healing, though his days as a mere teacher seemed distant now, buried beneath the ashes left in the wake of the fire. Much of the temple had been restored, and the garden below grew in lively greens, nourished by the ash. But a considerable number of repairs remained to be done, and workers proved scarce in the wake of controversy left by his predecessor.
Envesi had been an excellent Archmage, a shrewd woman with a sharp eye and sharper tongue. She had been skilled at keeping coin flowing from the cities, which had fed the magelings their suppers and fattened the purses of the Masters who trained them. If not for the woman's insufferable bullheadedness, perhaps their prosperity would not have ended. Any other woman would have been satisfied to be both Archmage and queen, but Envesi had rejected the latter title and struggled to break from her husband's rule. At the end, the king had refused to be pushed, and the temple had paid the price.
The damaged portions of the campus had begun to grow over with moss and creeping vines and looked less like the prestigious university he remembered and more like the crumbling rings of the ancient ruins just beyond the temple grounds. Every time he saw them, Nondar stifled a sigh.
Craftsmen tended toward patriotism. After Envesi's secession from Kifel's rule, few workers were willing to associate with mages, regardless of what Queen Firal did to repair ties between the temple and the kingdom. If there were more money in his coffers, he might have been able to overcome protests, but even the wealthiest cities had become reluctant to seek the services mages offered. Firal sent the temple a monthly pension to cover the expense of food for the mages, bless her, but the rising prices meant there was never coin left over. And the rising prices of food, of course, were something the mages were supposed to be able to take care of.
Nondar turned his head. A presence hovered outside his office door, and he wondered how long his wandering thoughts had kept him from observing it there. “Come in, girl,” he called as his gaze drifted across the temple's walls and toward the ruins. He didn't like the place, even knowing it was now empty. But the Archmage was expected to work from the Archmage's tower, so he would learn to make do. “I didn't call you up here to use you as a doorstop.”
Kytenia stepped inside and shut the door. He didn't have to look at her to know her cheeks grew rosy. As a healer, he had an innate sense of people. As her teacher, he knew her well enough to predict her embarrassment.
The girl cleared her throat. “I apologize, Archmage.”
His thick white brows lifted, the only outward sign of his amusement. “For what, hesitance? You could have knocked, I suppose.” He rested a knobby hand against his hip as he hobbled back to his desk. The short walk made him regret he hadn't used his cane to walk to the window in the first place.
“I suppose so, Archmage.” She stopped before his desk with her hands clasped together and stared down at her toes. “What have you called me to assist with?”
“Patience, girl, I'll get to that.” Nondar gritted his teeth as he sank into his chair. He dropped the last few inches with a sigh. “Would that we found a way to cure arthritis. I'd be a happier man, that's for certain.” He rubbed his forehead and then smoothed his hair and his narrow white beard. Another cushion for his chair might help. He'd have to remember to ask for one later.
The mageling girl fidgeted with the hem of her robe.
Nondar laced his knobby fingers together. “I received a message from Ilmenhith this morning. Have any of the other Masters mentioned it?”
Kytenia shook her head, never looking up.
“Ah. Unusual, I expected them to be gossiping about it as soon as I was out of earshot. The queen has summoned me to the capital, but there's something I must tend to before answering.” He chuckled, though he didn't feel a bit of mirth. “How are you faring, dear girl? As I understand it, you are one of the magelings working with... how are they saying it? Enhancing? Improving? Working with the earth.”
She nodded in response, but said nothing.
He leaned against the edge of his desk with a sigh. “So you understand what the problem with the food supply is, then.”
“That the previous Archmage scoured away the fertile soil with the torrential rains. We've managed some improvements, but earth-working isn't exactly my specialty, Archmage.” She winced. “Archmage Nondar, you know my affinity is healing. Why have I been assigned to this duty?”
“Because, child, it's very important for you to understand the expectations people have for mages of the temple. If you are to wear the white of a Master, you will be expected to have a hand in all things.” He smiled and gestured for her to make herself comfortable, waiting for her to settle in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk before he went on. “Your particular connection with our young queen makes you a vital key in this puzzle around us, which is why your group has been spread across so many tasks beyond your normal fields. You are her friends. Firal will trust your word more than that of the Masters. Maintaining a good relationship with the capital is important, especially considering that the queen relies on us to help with tasks like assisting the farmers. There's only so much we can do about that, however. The soil will recover with time, but repairing the temple's reputation is the forefront of my concerns.”
Kytenia looked away. “I've barely spoken to Firal since her coronation. I don't know if we can still be considered friends.”
He shrugged. “I am certain she will be pleased to include you in her new life. There will be errands that take you to Ilmenhith soon enough, but that isn't why I've called you.”
The girl's expression didn't change. “How may I assist you, Archmage?”
Nondar glanced to the open ledger on his desk. He closed the book without another thought for the smudged ink. “You are right, I know healing is your strong suit. I'm afraid I'm beginning to reach a point where my age is a hindrance to my duties.”
The mageling brushed at her robes. She'd graduated to green rank not long after his own promotion. It was nothing to sneeze at, but he wished she were already in blue.
Despite her fidgeting, she did not speak, so he went on. “I am in desperate need of an assistant now, one with good eyes and good handwriting. One who can ease the pains in this old body of mine, which means a student of the healing arts. As former Master of the House of healing, I have a great deal of knowledge I can pass on to you directly, so it is not as if your efforts would be unrewarded.” He paused, adjusting his spectacles. “There are also financial rewards to be offered, of course, since this would be on top of your existing duties.”
Kytenia bit her lip and wrung her hands. “You mean, you want me to... You're offering me a position as Archmage's apprentice?”
He inclined his head in affirmation and smiled when a light sparked in her eyes. “I can think of no other I would trust with such a task. Given everything we've been through in the past year, I feel you are more than trustworthy.”
“Thank you, Archmage.” Kytenia restrained her smile, but the way her hands curled to fists in the skirt of her robes betrayed her enthusiasm.
“I take that to mean you accept, then?” Nondar chuckled when she nodded. “Very well. Your first assignment. I expect you to return to my office after your classes conclude this evening. Bring supper with you, if you would. I doubt my old legs will carry me down to the
dinner hall a second time today.”
“Of course, Archmage.” The mageling jumped from her chair and dipped in a curtsy. She flashed him a single, brilliant grin on her way out of his office.
He watched her go with a smile, though his cheer faded after she closed the door. His eyes fell to the closed ledger and the abandoned quill beside it. What was done was done, but he didn't look forward to hearing complaints from Edagan and Anaide. They'd be snapping at his heels by morning. Dealing with sensitive matters, such as inquiries from the capital, had come to mean involving one of them. Their rank granted them authority to pen letters in his place when his hands ached too much to hold a quill. That he would replace them with a mageling, of all things, would rankle.
But he'd spoken the truth to the girl; there were no others he trusted with such a task. His choices were limited to the friends Firal had kept at the temple, and of the three remaining, Kytenia was the only one he knew well enough to rely on. She was a good girl, and strong enough in her Gift that he had no doubt she would wear blue shortly after year's end, if not before then.
Her strength, however, was not why he had chosen her. Kytenia already knew their young queen's most harmful secrets, and had shown herself willing to protect them. She had offered her own intended to protect Firal and her child, sacrificing the life she'd planned for herself. There were none more trustworthy than Kytenia. His only regret was that he had need to trust someone at all.
The old mage brushed the thought from his mind as he took his cane from where it hung on the edge of his desk. Its handle had left a permanent indentation in the wood. He eyed it with a sardonic smile as he got to his feet and waited to gain his balance. The first mark he'd made as Archmage was literal, and a sign of his physical failings, at that.
The warmth of activity eased the stiffness of his joints as he exited his office. The many stairs of the tower still presented a problem, though the station installed just outside his office door alleviated most others. A different mageling sat at the small station in the mornings and evenings, but there was always someone present and waiting to be sent on an errand. It was a girl in pale yellow robes today.
“On your feet, girl.” Nondar waved a hand to hurry her along. “I must take a brief excursion. Fetch enough Masters to open a Gate.”
The girl bobbed her head and ran off. Nondar leaned against the edge of the table where she had been studying. He didn't like waiting, but he had few options. The previous Archmage had kept a Gate-stone among her possessions, letting her come and go from the temple as she pleased. He'd seen her use it, but never where she kept it. His mages had turned the office upside-down looking for it at his request, but the thing never had turned up. A pity; such an artifact would have been quite useful. He doubted the likelihood of coming into possession of another.
The Masters arrived as he ruminated, and he nodded to each of them in silent greeting. Only once the last of the half-dozen mages was present did he speak. “Open the Gate to the queen's office in the palace of Ilmenhith. She has enough mages in the palace to have me returned, no need to wait for me. Be quick about it, now.”
The Masters formed a half-circle around the door and he braced himself for what was to come. Using the doorway as a frame for the portal was unnecessary, but a common practice. Some mages had trouble keeping the energies focused without a frame to concentrate on. With so few Masters at his disposal, even one failing to support their share of energy could have disastrous results for the rest.
Nondar shuddered at the shift of the power currents in the air. White-hot, crackling light split the air and he shielded his eyes as the Gate opened. The portal hummed with power, making his skin tingle as if touched with electricity. Once the sound and sensation stabilized, he uncovered his eyes. The longer the mages held the Gate, the more energy it took, so he wasted no time in crossing to the familiar room on the other side.
The mages dropped the portal the moment he was through. The air currents behind him rippled as they settled.
Firal looked up in surprise, dropped her pen and all but leaped from her chair. A Gate without an anchor—either a Gate-stone or mages to catch the energy at the destination point—could only be seen from one side, lending him the illusion of having stepped from thin air. He thought he might have startled her, but the look on her face spoke more of relief.
“Good afternoon, child.” Nondar opened his arms. Deep wrinkles swallowed his features as he smiled. The young queen almost threw herself into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, startled at how much smaller her frame seemed to be. He put a gnarled hand on her shoulder and pushed her back. “You've lost weight. Are you eating enough?”
She clung to his arms, as if afraid he might escape. “That's exactly why I've called you, Master. That is, Archmage,” she corrected herself, chagrined. “I'm sorry. I gave you the title and I still can't remember to call you by it.”
He patted her shoulder with a chuckle and gestured toward her desk. “It's quite all right, my dear. Imagine how I feel, having kissed skinned knees for a girl I now call my queen.”
She looked embarrassed, but said nothing. He tried not to rely on his cane as he followed her to the chairs. She pulled one out for him, but he waved her off when she tried to help. Old as he was, he could seat himself, though he shifted awkwardly until he was comfortable.
“So,” he started, leaning his cane against his chair. He paused when she sat next to him. She was the queen; he'd expected her to seat herself behind the big desk, not close to his side, like she had when they were mageling and Master. He tried not to let his discomfort show. “You've summoned me to discuss the fact you aren't feeding yourself properly?”
“No one is being fed properly, Nondar.” Firal rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, as if to smooth away the lines of worry that etched themselves into her brow. “I can't feed my city. Vahn has commissioned more fishing ships and we mean to import grain from the mainland, but we need something more immediate. I thought that would be enough to see us through until the next harvest, when things ought to stabilize, but...”
“But?” he asked.
She worried her lower lip. “I don't want to think of them as a problem—they're my people, too—but the whole of the Underling city has uprooted from the ruins and staked themselves right outside Ilmenhith. They used all their resources to travel here, and now they look to me for support. How am I to feed them and the rest of Ilmenhith at the same time?”
Startled, Nondar sank back in his chair. He hadn't even heard a whisper of people leaving the ruins, never mind the whole city. “Brant's roots, girl! Did no one see them traveling?”
“They must have, but no one told me!” She threw up her hands in defeat. “Even Vahn didn't mention it, and who knows how long he knew they were on the way. I can't support them, Nondar, there's no way. I thought maybe I could have mages open Gates to the mainland to establish immediate trade, but who would I trade with? I don't know the name of a single person in a seat of power there. All these lessons and lectures with Edagan and Anaide, and neither one of them will tell me what I need to know.”
He patted her knee in a grandfatherly gesture of comfort. “Calm down, child. It's not the end of the world.”
She looked at him with tears brimming on her dark eyelashes, a look that wrenched his heart, and he reached for her hand.
“Heavens. Why didn't you call for me sooner?”
“When it was just Ilmenhith, I thought I could manage on my own.” Firal's lip trembled. “But now it's Core, too. I don't want to rely on the temple forever, but I don't know what to do.”
Nondar's shoulders sagged as he exhaled. “Dear child, you may turn to me whenever you need. I thought I hammered that into your thick skull while you were still one of my students.” He tapped his temple with a thick finger. “The temple is your best resource in instances like this. Had I known the situation in the capital was so severe, I'd have suggested it earlier. Yes, we can certainly open a Gate to the mainland.”<
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Firal shuffled her feet and smoothed her skirts over her knees. “Where can we go, though? Who would be able to help us? Elenhiise has been self-sufficient for so long that maybe nobody thought it necessary that I have connections to the mainland, but I need them now.”
“The temple has ties to an aggregation of mages on the mainland. Very old ties, but they do exist. It was to them that we sent my predecessor, if you'll recall. Going through the temple connects you to the Grand College of Lore, and if nothing else, they will know who to refer you to for whatever business you have on the mainland.” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “As a matter of fact, it would be wise to make sure the new generation of Masters is capable of Gating to the college, in case of emergencies. There are very few of us remaining who can.” Truth be told, he suspected he was the last. He was the mage who led the opening of the Gate for Envesi's exile. Melora, the other Master he knew could reach the mainland, had gone with the former Archmage.
Firal drooped in her chair, the concern etched on her brow seeming to lessen. “So we can import food immediately?”
“Yes, of course.” He patted her knee again and tried to smile without showing pity. The poor girl, overwhelming herself for nothing. Still, the notion he could have alleviated her burden earlier stirred guilt in his chest. The thought of opening immediate, direct trade with the mainland simply hadn't crossed his mind. “I would be more than happy to assist you with this. In fact, I can begin arrangements as soon as I return to the temple.”
“Yes, yes. Please do. The sooner this is taken care of, the sooner I'll be able to rest.” Firal wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Nondar. I don't know what I would do without you. You're right, I should have come to you sooner.”
“Of course I'm right,” he chortled as he leveraged himself from his chair and righted himself with his cane. “I am the Archmage, after all.” He gave her a wink and a toothy grin. “Rest easy, child. And for Brant's sake, get something to eat.”