The Congruent Wizard (The Congruent Mage Series Book 2)

by Dave Schroeder

  “I did,” said Verro. “Plus enough to pull off that not-so-little surprise I told you about. We even found some high quality magestones suitable for new wizards in what we collected.”

  “Excellent,” said Túathal. “That’s great news. Tamloch and Dâron will soon be united with my son on the throne.”

  “With you and your new bride, Princess Gwýnnett, pulling his strings.”

  “As you say,” said King Túathal, putting his hand on Verro’s arm. “It would only be a marriage of convenience.”

  Verro pulled his arm away gently and smiled at his older brother. He loved Túathal, but not the way his brother wanted to be loved.

  “Whose convenience?” Verro asked. “Yours or hers?”

  “Mine, of course,” answered Túathal. “Once I solidify my influence over young Dârio, she’ll meet with a convenient accident.”

  “Just be sure you’re not the one dying prematurely,” said Verro. “I’ve got my best young wizard testing your food and drink now, and will add another once Gwýnnett comes to Riyas. I hope that will be enough.”

  Verro smiled down the hill at the short wizard in green-on-green robes standing not far from Sal, near a field table topped with wine bottles, cubes of cheese and rectangles of seed-covered flatbread.

  “At least with small, permanent gates between Riyas and Brendinas it will be easier to rule the united realm,” said Túathal.

  “And with Gwýnnett’s faction added to my loyal Tamloch wizards, there will be no question that I’ll lead the combined Conclaves,” added Verro.

  “I think I’m looking forward to you being the master mage of Tamloch and Dâron almost as much I am to seeing Dârio ‘lead’ both kingdoms,” said Túathal.

  “Almost,” said Verro with a grin. “For myself, I’m looking forward to the intercourse between the halves of the united realm increasing.”

  “You mean growing trade between Tamloch and Dâron? Or were you thinking about something more personal?” teased Túathal.

  “What do you think?” asked Verro.

  “Perhaps I’ll appoint you as Minister of Trade as well as Master Mage, then,” said his brother.

  “You’ll need me as your de facto Minister of War until we push the Roma back into the Ocean,” said Verro. “They will be our final obstacle to controlling all of Orluin.”

  “True enough,” said Túathal, “but Duke Néillen will hold that title in name if not fact. He can be your deputy as well as my own until Dâron is defeated and Occidens Province is erased from the map of Orluin.”

  One corner of Verro’s mouth turned up. “The duke is competent enough,” he said, “and I may have a way to get Quintillius and Laetícia to leave without a battle. They’re both ambitious, and the Ocean is just a wider Rubicon.”

  “I like it,” said Túathal. “You’re almost as crafty as I am.”

  “Almost,” said Verro.

  The tall wizard made a half-turn to face south.

  “You’re sure you’ve got King Bjarni’s loyalty?” Verro asked. “He’s still on track to hit Dâron’s forces from the river while the royal army attacks by land?”

  “I’m sure he is,” said Túathal. “Ten pounds of gold was sufficient inducement. Once our army is between him and Brendinas, we won’t allow the Bifurlanders to sack my soon-to-be southern capital, of course. They’ll have to settle for what riches they can strip from the bodies of the fallen Dâron soldiers.”

  “Especially Dâron’s heavy cavalry, eh, brother?” asked Verro. “The more of them who die, the more estates in the south you’ll have to give your noble supporters in Tamloch.”

  Túathal looked up at the clouds, afraid he’d laugh if Verro caught his eye.

  “That thought had never occurred to me,” said Túathal.

  Both brothers laughed. Túathal hugged Verro and Verro allowed it, but only for a moment.

  “I’ve got to go and see to my surprise,” said the tall green-robed wizard. “My team will be able to handle moving the royal army without my direct supervision.”

  “I know how to reach you if there are any problems,” said Túathal, tapping a gold ring on his little finger.

  “Just don’t use it unless there’s an emergency,” said Verro. “Pulling off my surprise will require my full attention.”

  “Best of luck then,” said Túathal. He waved as his brother mounted his flying disk.

  Verro waved back, spun around, and flew off to the east, toward the walls of Riyas.

  Túathal returned his attention to the marshaling field and smiled. The first units of the royal army were passing through the new wide gate to Dâron.

  Chapter 36

  Nûd, Eynon, and Dârio

  “Who are you? How did you tame a wyvern? Why do you have a red magestone? And what is that creature?”

  Eynon, Nûd and the young man with the shaved head were flying north to Brendinas, away from the fleet of Bifurland dragonships. Sigrun and Rannveigr had given them leather straps and buckles to make proper harnesses to ride on Rocky safely—adapted from equipment the girls used to ride their small gold dragons. The man with the shaved head and extraordinary skill with a sword rode between Eynon on the left and Nûd on the right on the wyvern’s back. Shaved-head man rested on a thickly padded saddle of sorts that prevented the knobs of bone on Rocky’s back from making his position miserable. Chee was wearing a long strap around his waist that allowed him to scamper up and down Rocky’s neck. At the moment, he was seated on an unpadded knob of bone, facing the man and rubbing both of his tiny hand-paws on the stranger’s smooth head.

  “Cut that out,” said the man. He tried to push Chee’s hand-paws away, but the raconette just climbed over his head to lodge between his shoulder blades where he was harder to reach and kept rubbing.

  Nûd and Eynon tried not to laugh—and mostly succeeded. A few seconds later, the stranger sighed.

  “Go ahead, little fellow,” he said. “Keep rubbing. It’s starting to feel good.”

  Chee rubbed more vigorously.

  “I’m Eynon and this is Nûd,” said Eynon. “I didn’t tame Rocky—he tamed himself. He’s my familiar—one of them, actually. I have a red magestone because it called to me and I didn’t know better. And the little beast on your back is a raconette. His name is Chee.”

  “Thanks,” said the man with the shaved head. He paused for a moment, then spoke. “Call me Río.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Eynon. “Are you from Brendinas? I’m from the Coombe, that’s in the far west of the kingdom, just east of the Bordermarches.”

  “I know where the Coombe is,” said Río. “And yes, I’m from Brendinas.”

  “That’s great,” said Eynon. “I can’t imagine many people in the capital knowing or caring about the Coombe.”

  “Merchants have to stay informed on trading possibilities everywhere in the kingdom,” said Río.

  “Uh huh,” said Nûd. “What do you trade during the winter?”

  Río leaned back into Chee’s fingers and let out a long breath. After a few more heartbeats he said, “Sometimes I take letters back and forth to the southern reaches for people who can’t afford help from a wizard, but most of the time I study.”

  “Swordplay?” asked Nûd.

  “Among other things,” said Río. He quickly changed the subject. “Did you see that huge fireball? It was spectacular. It nearly swamped Skavendr’s scout boat. I know, because I was flat on my back looking up at the sky when it exploded. I’m surprised it didn’t blind me.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Eynon.

  “You threw that fireball?” asked Río. “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen a wizard create one so big at exercises with the royal army—or at the Midsummer festival.”

  “I wasn’t trying to throw such a big one,” said Eynon. “It’s just that I saw the three Bifurlander wizards in gold robes about to attack me and had to shift part of my attention to defense instead of concentrating completely on keeping my fireball a
reasonable size.”

  “Did you often attend exercises with the royal army?” asked Nûd.

  “No,” said Río. “But my friends and I liked to watch the king’s troops maneuver when the wizards were practicing with them. Fireballs! Tight light beams! Lightning bolts! Freeze blasts!”

  “Uh huh,” said Nûd. “Didn’t they send you and your friends away so you wouldn’t get hurt if a fireball went off course?”

  “They tried,” said Río. He turned his head to face Nûd and smiled, causing Chee to scramble to his left to keep rubbing.

  “Right,” said Nûd.

  “We have to get word to the king and the Conclave that we’ve paid off the Bifurlanders,” said Eynon. “There’s no need for Dâron to attack them.”

  “It may be too late for that,” said Río. “Too much is already in motion.”

  “Who are you?” asked Nûd. He stared at Río with eyes as intense as twin beams of tight light.

  “I’m not what I seem,” Río admitted.

  Eynon turned to stared as well. “You mean you don’t sell strawberries?” he asked.

  “No,” Río replied. “I don’t sell anything, except selling my mother on an act that I’m an easy-to-control pig-boy.”

  “You’re not dirty enough to be a pig-boy,” said Eynon. He sniffed. “And you don’t smell as bad as one—though your clothes are damp and have a bit of fish-stink. Maybe you washed recently, or had a dip in the river?”

  “I spent twenty minutes in the bilge water in the bottom of Skavendr’s scout boat!” Río complained.

  He shook Chee off the back of his head. The raconette climbed up Rocky’s neck and scolded him with a loud, “Chee-chee-chee-CHEE!”

  Eynon thought Río would have been close to pulling his hair out if he’d had any.

  “Sorry,” said Eynon.

  “You still haven’t told us who you really are,” said Nûd.

  “I’m getting there,” said Río.

  Before he could say more, a blue fireball exploded in front of them and Rocky dove rapidly so he wouldn’t collide with its flames.

  “Turn around!” shouted Nûd.

  Rocky spun his body in a tight turn with his wings furled until he faced in the opposite direction. A few hundred feet below him on a flying disk was a wizard wearing blue robes. She had short auburn hair that stood out from her head like a dandelion in seed. The wyvern shot toward her.

  “Mother!” Nûd exclaimed when he recognized Fercha.

  “Nûd?” asked Fercha. “What are you doing here?”

  “Heading for Brendinas to tell the king and Conclave that Eynon and I have paid the Bifurlanders not to attack after all,” said Nûd.

  “Seems like you’ve already told the king,” said Fercha as Rocky hovered beside her flying disk.

  “What?” asked Eynon.

  “Hello, Dârio,” said Fercha. “I’ve been searching for you for hours. Your mother’s worried about you.”

  “Hah,” said Dârio. “My mother is concerned when I’m out of her clutches for longer than it takes to visit the garderobe.”

  “You’re the king of Dâron?” asked Eynon.

  “King Dâroth the Twenty-fifth, but my friends call me Dârio.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Eynon.

  The king gave him a stern royal look.

  Eynon tried again.

  “Pleased to meet you, Dârio.”

  “That’s better,” said the king. He looked over at the woman on the flying disk. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you,” Fercha replied. “Your mother is worried. She sent me to look for you.”

  “Are you going to take me back to the palace?” asked Dârio.

  “Of course not,” she said. “We should go to an inn a few miles north of here where we can talk on the ground with a mug of ale in our hands.”

  “The Dormant Dragon?” asked Dârio. “In Arthábben, near the blue marble quarry?”

  “You’ve been there?” asked Fercha, raising her eyebrows.

  “Once,” said Dârio. He turned to Eynon, then to Nûd. “Does stopping at an inn to talk meet with your approval?”

  Nûd leaned up so he could see Eynon over Dârio’s shoulders and saw his friend nodding.

  “Great,” said Nûd. “Rocky—follow Fercha!”

  The wyvern waited until Fercha directed her flying disk to the north then tracked her from ten yards behind where the turbulence of his wing strokes wouldn’t disturb her flight. Eynon considered how Rocky had protected Nûd during and after the attack by the gold dragon riders and how he seemed to be glad to follow Nûd’s commands, even without Eynon creating spheres of magically tasty solidified sound to reward him.

  “Rocky really likes you,” said Eynon.

  “And I really like him,” said Nûd. “Who’s a good boy!”

  The big black wyvern made a pleasant rumbling sound low in his throat.

  “You’re a good boy,” Eynon added.

  He was happy to hear Rocky’s rumbling grow louder.

  A mug of ale sounds good, thought Eynon as they sped upriver. And maybe if I have a minute to myself I can contact Merry?

  Eynon fingered the gold communicator-ring on his finger. Doethan had given it to Eynon so he could stay in touch, then given his matching ring to Merry. Eynon had seen her at the quarry this morning. The sight of her had been like a ray of sunshine heralding the dawn, but then she’d gated out with Damon to who knows where. If they could talk, maybe they could figure out a way to be in the same place at the same time. He missed her, and hoped she missed him, too.

  Sensing Eynon’s mood, Chee climbed down from Rocky’s neck and cuddled into Eynon’s shoulder. Soon the raconette was asleep, breathing rhythmically. A few minutes later, so was Eynon.

  Chapter 37

  Outside the Dormant Dragon

  Eynon woke in mid-flight with his gold ring pulsing. Chee reluctantly climbed back up Rocky’s neck and Eynon acknowledged the ring’s connection. The gold band expanded until it was the size of a barrel hoop. Merry’s face smiled at him from inside its circumference.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I’m glad you did,” said Eynon.

  He was glad for the new harness fastening him securely to Rocky’s back. It made it easier for him to hold the enlarged ring.

  “I was planning to contact you in a few minutes, but you beat me to it,” Eynon continued.

  “I finally had time to myself,” said Merry. “The other wizards from the Conclave are off to the north joining the army. I’m here with Doethan and Damon, catching my breath. I have so much to tell you.”

  “And I have so much to tell you, too,” said Eynon. “Fercha and Nûd are with me, too, but you’ll never guess who else is with me.”

  “I don’t want to try,” said Merry. “I just want to hear your voice and be with you soon. Where are you?”

  “We’re almost there,” said Nûd over Dârio’s back.

  Eynon looked down and saw a quarry cut into a high hill west of the Brenavon. It had tall, blue-veined walls and held a deep-blue lake. A narrow gravel track followed the stream flowing from the lake to the river and led to a two-story inn with a blue-slate roof that sat in a corner where the track intersected the main north-south road.

  “We’re about to land at an inn called the Dormant Dragon in a village downriver from Brendinas named Arthábben.”

  Eynon heard Merry shout from two directions. One came through the ring, the other rose up from the inn’s blue-slate courtyard. He leaned forward. Merry was waving at him from below.

  “See you soon!” he shouted and closed the ring. Seconds later, Rocky touched down. Eynon unstrapped and slid off the wyvern’s side.

  “Eynon,” said Merry, hugging her friend and lover fiercely.

  “It’s so good to hold you,” said Eynon as he leaned down so Merry could rest her head on his shoulder.

  The two of them were oblivious to their surroundings and might have stayed that wa
y for an hour if Chee hadn’t decided he wanted to be part of the reunion as well. The raconette jumped up to Eynon’s shoulder, then squirmed down to insert himself between Eynon and Merry’s bodies—creating a gap where none was to be found—and emitting a low, contented hum, punctuated by the occasional chee.

  Eynon and Merry took a step apart, but continued to support Chee with their forearms.

  Behind him, Eynon heard familiar voices. Dârio was talking to Nûd.

  “Fercha is your mother?”

  “I claim that honor,” said Fercha.

  “She is,” said Nûd in a flat voice.

  “Oh,” said Dârio. “It’s like that, is it? I hope you get along with your mother better than I do with mine.”

  “So do I,” said Fercha. “Leaving him in Melyncárreg while I was off helping Queen Carys hardly puts me in the same league as Princess Gwýnnett. It’s not like I was trying to rule the kingdom through him and threatening him with compliance potions.”

  “At least not yet,” said Nûd. “There’s still time left in the day.”

  “Not much of it,” said Dârio, looking west at the sun approaching the horizon. “It will be full dark in a couple of hours.”

  “I’m trying to remember,” said Fercha. “Do Bifurlanders attack at night?”

  “If they do, it’s not very often,” said Dârio. “At least not according to…”

  “Bifurland Naval Tactics and Strategy,” completed Fercha.

  “I thought I’d put that back on the shelf?”

  “You did, Your Majesty—but Jenet has sharp eyes,” said Fercha.

  “And a keen mind,” said Dârio.

  “She said she had you in shah-mat with mate in three,” Fercha added with a smile.

  “Perhaps too keen,” said Dârio.

  “Who’s Jenet?” asked Nûd.

  “A woman—a Duke’s daughter—I play shah-mat with,” said Dârio. His cheeks and forehead turned pink.

  Fercha waved a hand toward Eynon and Merry.

  “And those two are just good friends,” said Fercha.

  Nûd raised his voice. “Eynon! Introduce me to your girlfriend.”