Scholar of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  Lognion was in the next room, speaking with Mark and Agnes Nerrow while he waited on servants to fetch the required implements. Glancing around once more, Will caught Laina staring at him. “You should probably go to your room. I don’t think you’ll want to see this,” he told her.

  She ignored the suggestion. “This was supposed to be my punishment. The least I can do is stay with you.” She hesitated before asking, “Are you scared?”

  “I’d be lying if I said otherwise,” he admitted.

  They stood in silence for a minute, then she asked, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “All of it,” said Laina. “Why did you follow me in the rain? Why were you watching my home? Why would you put yourself in this position for me?”

  “I thought Darla was an assassin—” he began, but she interrupted him.

  “I’ve figured that out. I’m trying to understand your motivation. A while back, before she disappeared, Selene told me you were crazy, but I don’t think that’s the case. There’s definitely a reason of some sort. What is it?”

  He couldn’t tell her he was her brother. Even if he were willing the two men holding his arms would hear. Cudgeling his brain, he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for his behavior. “Remember the snake, when you were a child?” he said at last.

  “Huh?”

  Will pointed at the scar on his cheek. “When I got this? Maybe this is just a bad habit of mine.”

  Laina seemed genuinely confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you answer without being cryptic?”

  There was a stir in the next room as the man who had gone out to find the necessary items returned. His waiting would soon be done. He wasn’t about to be executed, but Will felt a sense of urgency. “For Selene,” he said quickly.

  “Selene?”

  “You wanted her help, but she couldn’t be there for you. I’m just trying to take care of you in her place.”

  His half-sister gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not sure if I believe that, and even if it’s true, I can tell you for certain she wouldn’t want you to take the whip for me.”

  “I didn’t really mean to,” said Will. “I didn’t think he would ask about her.”

  “But you could have told him,” insisted Laina. “Most would say there’s no shame in obeying your king, even if it means you have to break a promise.”

  He gave her a hard look. “I’m sure she’s told you about her family situation. Would you have told him?”

  A shadow fell on her expression. “I’m not sure. It depends on the reason. He is the king, after all.”

  “Then I made the right choice,” said Will, firming his jaw.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About not telling you where she is.”

  She looked as though she’d been slapped. “I said it would depend on the reason! Don’t start making assumptions about me.”

  The commander called to the guards and they tightened their hold on him. It was time.

  It turned out that Baron Nerrow’s house contained a small atrium. The area was tiled but contained a plethora of plants, some in large planters while others hung around the edges of the open space. In the center was a bench and a statue of Temarah, presumably so that anyone enjoying the garden atmosphere could reflect on the mercy of the goddess.

  Although Will hadn’t been included in the discussion between the king and Mark and Agnes Nerrow, he had heard some of it, and much of it had revolved around Agnes’ objection to using the statue of the holy mother as a whipping post. The king had won the argument, and now Will stood in front of Temarah’s stone form, his arms up and his wrists tied together behind her neck. To a casual observer it almost looked as though he was embracing the goddess.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against the statue’s chest. The cool stone felt good against his skin as he tried to stay calm. He had been stripped to the waist and the cold night air sent shivers down his back. I have to relax, he reminded himself. Someone had once told him that the damage was worse if you tensed up. How the hell can anyone relax in this situation?

  “At least give him something to bite down on,” protested Mark Nerrow. He and Laina stood on one side of the atrium to observe. Agnes had gone inside, unwilling to see her garden defiled. Tabitha, the younger daughter, had awoken during all the commotion and had wanted to be present, but her mother had refused.

  Lognion waved a hand dismissively, then leaned in to whisper in Will’s ear. “That would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it, William? The best part is the screaming.”

  Will didn’t reply, and as the king stepped away he tried not to hear the sound of the whip being removed from the bucket of brine. He was so scared he felt like vomiting. He’d never been particularly religious, especially after learning that Aislinn and Elthas weren’t actually gods but rather lords of the fae. Even so he found his attention on the statue in front of him. Temarah, I don’t know if you’re real, but if you can help me somehow, I will be forever grateful, he thought desperately.

  There was a faint whistling sound as the whip cut through the air, and then the world vanished as his awareness was consumed by white-hot agony. For a moment he lost control of his body and his legs collapsed, but strong arms held him up. A voice filtered into his mind. I am here.

  Temarah? Opening his eyes, Will realized the statue was gone. In its place was a woman of flesh and blood. His arms were still tied around her neck, but it was her arms that embraced him, keeping him from sagging in place. The woman was beautiful, but in an entirely human way. Unlike the depictions he had seen in churches, her hair and eyes were brown, rather than blond and blue. She seemed ordinary, but the warmth in her gaze radiated compassion—and sorrow.

  If that is what you wish to call me—most do these days.

  Please help me, he begged, then the whip whistled again, and his world filled with pain.

  I can’t stop the pain of living. You must endure on your own.

  When he opened his eyes again, he could see the woman was weeping. She held him tighter and pressed her cheek against the side of his head. Why are you here? he asked mentally, desperate to think of anything other than the next stroke of the whip. Blinding agony overwhelmed him again, washing away his thoughts.

  Because you called, and you remind me of him. You must be strong afterward. Don’t let the shame poison your heart. My beloved was punished like this once and it took years for him to recover his old spirit.

  Your beloved?

  My husband.

  Marduke, the Lord of the Underworld? The next stroke brought such pain that his lungs seized, and he could no longer breathe. He tried to jerk, to move, anything to escape, but the goddess held him still. When he looked at her again, he felt her breath on his face and suddenly his lungs relaxed.

  He was not an evil man any more than I was a perfect example of motherhood. The theology of this age has been extremely unkind to him. He was just a man, as you are. We fought and loved together, to make a better future for our children, to be happy.

  His back was a single, aching mass that radiated constant misery. With each blow it somehow became more sensitive, and when the next landed his scream was unrestrained. His eyes were already streaming tears and his nose was filled with snot. He might have vomited; it was hard to be sure. Only the pain mattered.

  And then it vanished. He floated above the atrium, looking down at his body as it stood rigidly in front of the statue of Temarah. Glancing to one side, he realized she was floating beside him. It felt so natural it never occurred to him to ask how they got there. Instead he returned to what she had just told him. Did you succeed? Were you happy?

  The goddess smiled faintly. We were happy for as long as we lived. But time can be cruel. Now we seek happiness through this world, though just as often we find pain.

  They watched as Lognion finished the last strokes. Will noticed that his body hardly responded now, as though it was made of stone as hard as
the statue of the goddess. Are you doing this? he asked.

  I kept you still at first, but now that you’ve freed yourself from the flesh, I am only lending you aid with the artistic touches.

  Artistic touches?

  When she looked at him again, he could see a burning fury in her gaze. I have a special hatred for this form of punishment and those who abuse it for their sick pleasure. She turned her eyes toward the king. That one in particular. He is due a reckoning.

  I’m supposed to kill him, Will told her. But I would rather not have to. Maybe your vengeance will save me the trouble?

  She shook her head. The world is for the living. I merely observe. You must cleanse it for yourself. She began to fade in front of his eyes.

  Don’t go! he begged, but it was too late. He was alone.

  But he wasn’t in his body. Looking down, he saw it still standing rigidly in front of the statue of Temarah. He had no idea how to return and when he thought about it, he began to drift farther away. For a second he panicked, and his perspective began to shift and roll. Will struggled to calm himself, and once his thoughts were clear he started to get a feel for how to control his movement. It was the reverse of swimming. In the water he could use his arms and legs to push against the water around him, but here there was no water. There was nothing solid, nothing material, not even air. Normally solid things like the ground, walls, the statue, other people, all of them were intangible. They provided not even the smallest resistance when his hands touched them.

  The trick was to focus on a particular thing. It had confused him at first, because it felt like he was pushing away from whatever he put his mind to, but the opposite was the case. In the real world, the physical world, he moved toward something by pushing against other things, such as the ground when walking. Here attempting to push against other things the way he would with a physical body worked against him. Every time his attention wavered to something else, it would send him in that direction.

  It felt as though it took several minutes to figure out, but when he took stock of the people standing around his body, he saw that they had barely moved. Focusing on his own face, he felt himself rushing toward it. There was a brief feeling of resistance and then the world exploded around him. Holy Mother! The pain was unbelievable.

  Opening his eyes, the first thing he took note of was Mark and Laina Nerrow. They stood off to one side, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen two people so visibly upset. The baron’s face was red, and his hands were balled into tight fists. Laina was vomiting into one of her mother’s topiaries.

  Will turned to face his father-in-law. “Are we done?” His throat felt ragged when he spoke, and he realized he had probably been screaming. As he moved, he felt the skin on his back shift oddly and something flapped, as though he wore a shirt that had been badly torn. Was that my skin? He glanced down and saw blood soaking into his trousers. Waves of agony washed over him, and he fought to keep his eyes focused on Lognion.

  “You must not have heard me,” said the king. “But then I suppose that can be forgiven, given what you’ve been through. I’ve never seen anyone react to a flogging in quite such a stoic manner. It was impressive, though you took some of the joy from my task. I offered to have my private physician treat you. I may have outdone myself. I believe you’ll need professional assistance to avoid permanent injury.”

  “I don’t want anything from you,” said Will hoarsely. “I already have the only thing of value you’ve ever possessed—Selene.”

  Mark Nerrow stepped forward. “We’ll take care of him, Your Majesty.”

  Lognion studied the baron for a few seconds. “Yes, I’m sure you will. You’ve always lived up to your responsibilities, haven’t you, Mark?”

  The baron lowered his eyes, but Will could see his father was fighting to swallow his anger.

  The king turned away to head back into the house. “My offer stands. If you need help, bring him to the palace.” He gathered his soldiers and left while Agnes returned to the atrium to check on Will and her family.

  Laina’s mother nearly fainted when she saw the tattered skin hanging from Will’s back in ribbons. “Mark, we need to take him to the college. Only Doctor Morris will be capable of treating something as bad as this. How could you let him do such a thing?”

  “Because he’s the godsdamned king!” swore Mark Nerrow angrily. “He’s sick! I had to stand there and watch him do it! It wasn’t even a flogging. It looked like he was trying to flay the skin from his back.”

  Meanwhile Will had already summoned his last regeneration potion. In less than two hours he had used both of his remaining treasures and they wouldn’t be easily replaced. A thousand gold down my throat, he thought as he swallowed. Another wave of dizziness hit him, and he swayed. Mark and Agnes both started toward him, but Laina reached him first, slipping her shoulder beneath his arm before he fell.

  The act of lifting his arm shifted the skin of his back and sent fire blazing along his nerves. Will found himself leaning heavily on the younger woman. I’m getting blood all over her dress, he realized. “That will be hard to wash out, but I have a spell that will do the trick,” he commented blearily. His body was beginning to itch intensely as the regeneration potion started its work.

  Will stumbled along and eventually he opened his eyes and found himself lying across a large bed. Voices were arguing in the hall behind him. “Why’d you put him in there? You should have taken him to the guest room.” That was Mark Nerrow’s voice.

  “He was about to pass out. I couldn’t carry him. If you want to try, you can carry him down the hall, but he’s already bled all over the bed. There’s no sense in ruining two sets of bedding,” Laina responded sharply.

  “Is he still here?” asked another young woman’s voice, probably his younger sister, Tabitha.

  “What are you doing out of your room? I told you to stay there,” snapped their mother.

  Mark interrupted, “Let me by. I’m going to move him. We can’t have him in Laina’s room.”

  “For the sake of all that’s holy, Mark, leave him be!” snapped Agnes. “He’s had enough.”

  “That potion he took healed his wounds,” said the baron. “It won’t hurt him. He’s just exhausted.”

  “And he’s sleeping,” Agnes shot back. “After what he’s done for Laina he deserves better than to have you dragging him all over the house.”

  You tell him, Agnes, Will thought with a faint smirk. He’d never really had a chance to get to know his father’s wife, or anyone in the family, to be honest, but he’d barely met Agnes before that night. Despite himself, he found he liked her.

  He had always had an image in his mind of her as just another spoiled noblewoman. Since she was the woman that Mark had abandoned Will’s mother for, he supposed he should hate her, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to hold a grudge. She seemed like a genuinely decent human being. But I wonder what she’d think if she found out who I was? Would she still be advocating for my beauty sleep?

  Chapter 10

  During the night Will rose once to attend to certain bodily functions and discovered that someone had undressed him. He was forced to use a coverlet to cover himself as he worried that one of the ladies of the house might walk in while he was using the chamber pot. With that out of the way, he returned to bed. Before falling back asleep, he studied the decor. He’d expected it to be filled with luxurious furnishings, but the room was surprisingly plain. That wasn’t to say it was poorly decorated, but the style was minimal and tastefully done. It was distinctly feminine, but overall it gave him the sense that Laina was more concerned with function than superficial ornaments.

  That ran completely counter to the impression he’d gained when she had visited Selene while he was in the army. Back then she’d seemed bored, and her only concern was shopping. Of course having a room that was modestly furnished didn’t make Laina a paragon of virtue. After all, from what Tailtiu told me she spends every evening running from
house to house attending every party thrown in the capital.

  That thought brought his fear and worry for his aunt back to the fore. He still had no idea what had happened to her. And what was that thing that went after Laina? The king had taken the remains back with him. Another question, why was the king there? Was he watching Laina as well, or was he hunting the thing that tried to kill her?

  “None of it makes the slightest damned sense,” he muttered to himself. And that was just the start of it. Had he really been visited by Temarah? The part where he had left his body had been bizarre, but it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. When he’d nearly died as a child after being bitten by a snake, he’d had a similar experience. It had been Arrogan who saved his life and who put him back in his proper vessel. He’d had a second brief experience while keeping the dam from collapsing.

  And now this. Maybe it only happens when I’m close to death, he hypothesized, but that didn’t make sense either. He’d been in plenty of other near-death situations without leaving his body. Will considered consulting the ring, but he worried that someone might overhear the conversation. He’d wait until he got home.

  Instead, he tried to see if he could do it again. Mentally he pushed and strained, trying to leave his body, but he failed. Then he tried relaxing and focusing his attention in the same way he had done in order to move when he’d been outside his body before. Something happened then. He felt a certain pressure, and for a moment it felt as though he was slipping free, but he snapped back into his flesh a split second later.

  Will kept it up for several minutes, but his eyes grew heavy. It was late, and the regeneration potion had used up most of his strength. Before he knew it he was drifting once more into dreams.

  Or rather nightmares. He found himself back in the atrium. Lognion loomed before him, whip in hand while a vast host of onlookers watched from the sides, jeering at him. He fought to get away, but a swarm of hands took hold of him, dragging him back to the statue where he was again tied in place. The whip whistled through the air, and he screamed, knowing the pain that would ignite in his back.