The Last Mage Guardian

by Sabrina Chase

  The King had been right to invoke the compact. Someone was trying to plunge Aerope into war. Again. And the Council expected her to stop it.

  Something—the tone, the rhythm of the words—made her certain one of the voices outside was Dominic’s, and she ran and snatched the door open.

  Markus Asgaya, seated in a chair outside the workroom, was arguing with Dominic.

  “We can’t simply let her go everywhere to see things for herself, especially if what you say is true,” Markus said patiently.

  Dominic was furious. His deep-set eyes snapped in anger, and he had run his hands through his black, springy hair so many times he looked deranged. “It is true, and if you won’t let her go, send someone else!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Both men looked up at her.

  “Siebert was assassinated,” Dominic snapped, glaring at Markus. “His assistant and I found a sabotage device in the machine that exploded. A strong field encased in a shell of chryselectrum, placed near the mechanical engine. When the engine heated up, the shell cracked and the field was exposed to the moving parts.”

  She felt herself sag, as if her legs had lost strength to support her, and she clutched at the door. “We'll need to prove it,” she said finally.

  “The field is still quite strong, and we found a piece of the chryselectrum. Any magician should be convinced. And the assistant swears they used neither stasis field nor chryselectrum in the construction. It has to be sabotage.”

  “This assistant...what did you tell him? Does anyone else know of this?” asked Markus.

  “One other was there when we discovered this, but I think both can be trusted. I left them to watch the evidence, just in case.”

  Markus narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I should notify the Council.” He went and spoke to one of the guards, who left immediately. Ardhuin went back inside the workroom. Dominic followed her, and she noticed the expression of pain in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I ever persuaded you to come here,” he said, his voice tight. “They can’t possibly expect you to do this on your own, especially when they won’t even let you leave the Imperial Palace.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “It's too late, Dominic. Whoever did it will try to find me wherever I go. Better to face them here, where I have the resources of the Preusan Empire at my disposal. Besides—” she hesitated. They might be angry that had she told him, but what could they do about it? They needed her help too badly. “Things are worse than I thought. Aerope has been on the brink of war more than once in recent years, largely due to the huge military buildup of the Preusans under the previous King. This King has been doing his utmost to reduce the threat, but he has been hampered by the intransigence of the senior military officials who would like nothing better than a war. And it looks like someone has been trying to provoke one. They almost succeeded, too.”

  “I hope this isn't your idea of cheering me up,” said Dominic, looking grim. “Is this what they've been telling you in all those meetings?”

  “Among other things.”

  Markus’ muffled voice made itself heard through the door, saying something about the Council.

  They left the workroom and found Markus waiting for them in the hall. “They want to talk to you,” he said, looking at Ardhuin with amusement.

  “He needs to come with us,” Ardhuin said, indicating Dominic. “He is the one who saw what happened.” Markus shrugged and led the way.

  Predictably, there was argument when they arrived at the Council chamber entrance. One minor official bristled at Markus, who reacted by looking bored and detached.

  “How could you permit this...this irregularity!” he said, outraged and glaring at Dominic, the source of the problem. “He is not permitted. The instructions could not have been more clear, and—”

  “I am responsible only for the Mage Guardian's personal safety. His Majesty’s instructions were explicit. I do not presume to make policy decisions, or dictate her actions,” Markus interrupted, a slight edge to his voice.

  The official was turning a strange shade of red and stuttering incoherently with rage when Markus finally said, “Wait here,” and entered the Council chambers. Ardhuin heard nothing for a while, then a series of raised voices, followed by a short silence. The door opened, and Markus glanced out and motioned them in.

  She recognized many of the faces from the first encounter, the night they had arrived in Baerlen. The King, looking even more haggard and tired than before, did not look up as they approached, but stared at a pen he held in his hand. At the Council's request, Dominic recounted everything he had learned that day, concluding with the discovery of the sabotage to the flying machine.

  “I beg your pardon, perhaps I was not attending...how was it that you knew to test the device?” asked an old, white-haired gentleman whose gentle demeanor was belied by a keen gaze.

  “I am...I have the ability to see thaumurgic fields,” said Dominic. Ardhuin couldn’t help smiling. He sounded almost apologetic.

  This created a stir in the Council. “How—”

  “Oh, don't be so backward, von Gering. It isn't a common ability, certainly, but not unheard-of.”

  “I am aware,” von Gering answered in a glacial tone. “Perhaps my colleague would be so kind as to tell me why he is certain this man has the ability in question. I myself doubt that someone with that talent would be attached to an unrecognized female magician.”

  Ardhuin felt a stab of anger at the undisguised contempt in the man's voice and his casual dismissal of Dominic’s talent. Before she could defend him, one of the younger soldiers asked, “Well, why can't we have him give a demonstration? The defensive magician can—”

  “Not in the presence of the King; you know that. Not even illusion is permitted.” Ah. That explained the reaction to her gloire. Of course, no one had seen fit to mention this error of protocol afterward. She wondered why. Had the King intervened, or were Mage Guardians exempt?

  “But...there is an illusion on the King,” blurted Dominic. Ardhuin stared at him, startled. The room went completely silent, and the tension was almost palpable.

  “Ah...what was that again?” asked the white-haired councilor.

  The King held up a hand. “What do you see? Where?” He locked gazes with Dominic.

  Self-consciously, Dominic traced a line along his own angular cheek down to the jaw. “All I see is...illusion. Very complex, and not a large area...” his voice trailed off.

  After a brief period of stunned silence, the Council erupted into argument.

  “He should never have been allowed to—”

  “We cannot permit this to continue. Security is—”

  The King's voice rose over the Council, speaking with finality. “That is proof enough for me. Someone is to go immediately to the university. Ask permission of the Provost as required, but secure that workshop. Find out who is responsible with all possible speed.”

  An officer standing against the wall saluted and left. One of the councilors said, soberly, “It would be wise to look into the others as well. The other Mage Guardians who are dead or missing.”

  The argument went on for some time before one of the more realistic councilors noticed the Mage Guardian herself would not be needed until they decided the next step. Another chimed in with a suggestion for additional protection for the Mage Guardian. Ardhuin raised her head at this.

  “There is also the matter of protection for my assistant,” she interrupted, startling herself with her own bluntness. That seemed to be the only way to get anything done around here, and while it still made her uncomfortable, it was getting easier to do. Practice really was the key. “You have seen how useful he is. Any threat directed at me will also threaten him. I want him guarded as well.”

  “I agree,” said the King, cutting off another incipient debate. “They show a remarkable degree of ruthlessness and cunning, whoever they are.” He looked at Dominic and smiled without humor. “This illusion conceals eviden
ce of an assassination attempt.”

  Back at the palace wing, Dominic watched Markus unpack a small valise and arrange a cot at the foot of his bed. Although he was surprised and pleased Ardhuin had made such a point of it, he wished the defensive magician assigned to his protection had been someone else. He wasn't sure what the problem was. Markus was pleasant and courteous, and Dominic suspected he also had a low opinion of the Council’s intelligence. That should have made them instant friends.

  Perhaps it was the way he always moved with a supple, catlike grace, or the expression of faint amusement that was never far from his eyes. Or, he confessed, Ardhuin’s instant acceptance of Markus. It had taken weeks before she had voluntarily even talked to him, back in Peran.

  She was changing. They both were. Ardhuin was changing the most, and he smiled to himself, recalling how fiercely she had argued for his protection. She wasn’t wearing the shadow hat, either. It would look strange indoors, but that wouldn’t have stopped her before. Perhaps there was hope.

  Having settled himself and ascertained Dominic was going to retire, Markus set up the defensive wards.

  “Why did you do it like that?” asked Dominic, when Markus had finished.

  Markus flashed him a glance. “What do you mean?”

  Dominic gestured. “You did it in sections, not all at once.”

  “Is that how Fraülein Andrews does it? In one action?” Dominic nodded, and Markus raised both eyebrows in astonishment. “She must have formidable control.”

  Markus sat on his cot, seeming quite comfortable and relaxed, more so now that the wards were set. He regarded Dominic with frank curiosity. “How long have you been working for her?”

  “Less than a year.”

  “What made you choose that position rather than one with some...more well-established magician?”

  Dominic knew what he was trying to say, and despite himself he found himself admiring the diplomatic phrasing of the question. For some reason it was even more annoying that Markus was likeable and intelligent. “She was the one who discovered my ability, and trained me in how to use it.”

  The defensive magician leaned forward, looking at him even more intently. “Now, how did that come about? From something Fraülein von Kitren said, I had the impression the Lady Magus is not fond of company.”

  Dominic began to feel uncomfortable, wondering where this line of inquiry was headed and why. He was beginning to suspect Markus had a more than casual interest in Ardhuin. He knew he did not have the conversational adroitness Markus exhibited, and it would be entirely too easy to let fall information of a compromising nature.

  “She travels on rare occasions. She visited Dinan when I was a student there.” He decided that going to sleep would be an effective way to cut off further questions, and made his own preparations.

  Markus stretched out on the cot, hands behind his head, and regarded the ceiling. “Thaumatic scryer...and a superb one, too. You could practically name your price, work wherever you wished, with the most influential and well-connected magicians in Aerope. Magical talent can overcome any number of obstacles, as I can attest.” He flashed a grin, and Dominic realized Markus knew very well how much he stood out in Preusa, and that was what amused him.

  “I have no intention of leaving her,” said Dominic, realizing as he did so it sounded more forceful than he intended.

  Markus looked at him thoughtfully and asked no more questions.

  Chapter 8

  Markus was gone when Dominic woke the next morning, and the wards had disappeared as well. He could hear voices and footsteps in the hallway, so presumably his guard was somewhere about. Dominic dressed in haste and rushed out of his room, barely avoiding an official-looking person who was running down the hall. The man held a sheaf of papers and a dispatch case. Looking about, Dominic noticed a number of regular soldiers who hadn't been there the previous night.

  It appeared something had been decided, but the precise nature of the decision remained unclear. A black-clad defensive magician followed him when he headed for Ardhuin’s workroom. Unlike Markus, this man was silent and stolid, but still conscientious about his work. Even here, inside the Imperial Palace, his eyes constantly shifted about, looking for signs of magical attack. He was not, however, a great conversationalist. Despite repeated attempts, all Dominic’s questions elicited only “Yes, sir,” “No, sir,” and “I couldn’t say, sir,” which seemed to be his entire repertoire.

  When he found her, Ardhuin was not in the workroom, but in an antechamber nearby. She wore a plain, dark blue dress and was looking out one of the windows at the park below, two defensive magicians on either side. One looked bewildered that he was guarding her but determined to do it, and the other appeared to be debating whether or not to forcibly move her away from such an exposed location.

  “We're not to even leave the wing,” said Ardhuin when Dominic came up and joined her. “Nobody seems to know anything except for the decision to add more guards.”

  Dominic grimaced. “This could be a slow morning.”

  She gave a perfunctory smile, still looking out the window. Her long fingers tapped restlessly at the windowpane for a moment, then she turned to him. “Come with me to the workroom.”

  Their respective escorts were not pleased at having to wait outside. Dominic felt a twinge of satisfaction, knowing they were excluded and he was not.

  Somehow, Ardhuin had found the time to unpack and arrange her equipment. The room showed little sign of its earlier disorder. She went to a secretary cabinet and opened one of the drawers, taking out a small, dark green box.

  “This is for you,” she said without preamble, thrusting it at him. Her long, intent face showed nothing—he couldn’t read her face, or tell what she was thinking. She watched him warily as he took it from her.

  Thin, graceful gold letters on the box formed the words “de Cusac, Parys.” Inside was a gold stickpin. The top was an emerald rosebud, delicately held in place by small gold leaves. It took him a moment to find his voice, suddenly overcome by emotion. So that was the secret errand that had taken her out, alone.

  “You had this set when we were in Parys,” Dominic said finally, incredulous. There was a faint sheen of magic to the stickpin, and he turned it in his fingers, admiring it.

  She nodded. Her face was flushed. “It isn't just...it has another use. I've tuned the natural magical signature of the rose just enough that I could search for it. I...I'd like you to keep it with you. It doesn't have to be visible to work, just away from iron,” she said earnestly. “I keep telling them you are in danger too, but they don’t listen to me, and they won’t let me do anything! But just in case something does happen...I want to be able to find you.” Her voice trailed off, her face creased with worry.

  The only other piece of jewelry Dominic still owned was his father’s pocket watch, whose greatest value was sentimental. He had never thought he would own something as beautiful and rare as this, and Ardhuin seemed worried he would refuse it.

  “The style of dress here is in general beyond my touch,” he said lightly, trying to insert the pin by feel and by dint of tucking in his chin. “Now I shall look a little more the thing. I don’t suppose there is a mirror anywhere?”

  The beginnings of a smile on Ardhuin’s face vanished. “I don’t like mirrors.” Then she turned bright red and mumbled, “I am sorry. You should not be inconvenienced by my habits.”

  She held up her hands, thumbs and forefingers touching each other. The magic flared sharp and bright—painfully so. Through watering eyes, Dominic saw a smooth, silvery surface framed by her fingers.

  “Does that work well enough?” Ardhuin asked, glancing at him.

  “Oh yes, perfectly,” Dominic lied. With the glare of the magic he could barely see anything more than a blur. “What spell is that?” Some instinct made him look away when he saw the magic begin to flow back toward her hands.

  Ardhuin looked guilty. “It’s, um...the encasement field for a fire sh
ell.” His shock must have shown, for she hurried on, “I remembered thinking how shiny it was when I did them before, and—”

  “When did you cast fire shells?” That was war magic even he knew about. He had a sudden flash of recollection of Professor Botrel in his office in Dinan, recounting the destruction of Fougéres.

  “My great-uncle insisted I learn,” Ardhuin whispered. “He said—he said I might need to use it someday, and theoretical knowledge was not enough.”

  She sat down on one of the remaining couches and drew her feet up underneath her, clasping her knees with her arms. She looked miserable.

  Well, why was he so shocked? She had told him she had been taught by one of the top mages of the War, trained to prevent a recurrence of that war. Of course she would need to know such things.

  “I am glad he did. It would appear he was quite correct,” Dominic said, and smiled to see her relieved expression. “I only wish I could be of more assistance in defending you myself.”

  Ardhuin sighed. “You have helped me simply by being here. If I were by myself, I think I would go mad.”

  Hearing the shaky tone in her voice, Dominic set himself to distracting her. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Preusan medicine is woefully primitive when it comes to the treatment of mental imbalance. A great deal of cold water and simple food, interspersed with voltaic shocks.”

  She shook her head, adding a few more fiery strands of hair to the tendrils that had already escaped. “No, that does not sound appealing.”

  Dominic sat down on the couch beside her. She remained in her unconventional pose, and he remembered now that she would do so at Peran if she felt either particularly at ease or distressed. Her choice of attire, too, was a signal of her mood. Were they at home and she were wearing the same dull, plain dress, he would say she was extremely annoyed.