Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “Hmm. I suspect this may be a property only of the flawed chryselectrum, possibly unique to that piece. Really, Dominic, it is used so often with higher-level magic it would be remarkable if no one else had noticed.”

  Dominic looked unconvinced. “I need some chryselectrum to check. Where are the channels you didn’t use for the ward?”

  Ardhuin pointed to the cabinet. He opened it and brought out the case with the remaining channels in it, removing an angular piece splayed like a tripod.

  “No good—I can’t see anything; it’s too narrow.” He examined the contents again. “This should be better.”

  It was an oval, slightly concave. “You are right—I can’t see anything at all through this. It’s like a mirror—”

  Dominic’s face was a pale mask of horror.

  “What’s wrong?” Ardhuin felt her heart start to pound.

  “I felt something, but I didn’t know he had done anything…what is it making me do?” he whispered.

  “What? Who did this? What are you talking about?” Ardhuin got painfully to her feet. Was Dominic still obsessing about Markus Asgaya?

  He stared at her. “Von Gerling, in the fight. He put a geas on me. I can see it.”

  There was no air in her lungs, no strength in her legs. She sat down hard, a voice screaming in her mind. Not now. Please not now. He is going to ask questions, you know he is. And you still do not know how to lie.

  “He did not put a geas on you,” a calm, distant voice said. It seemed to be her own. “You must touch the person to set it, and he never touched you. Besides, with your training you would know if something like that had been done.”

  “But—” Dominic rubbed his hand frantically through his black hair. “I can see it.”

  Maybe she could avoid it a little longer. “How do you know it is a geas?”

  “It looks like what the prisoner had. It is not exactly the same, but very close.”

  No, it was over. She had to tell him; she had been intending to anyway. Now she knew she had been avoiding it because there would be no happy ending to this story. He knew what geasi could do now, and he would know she had cast one. On him. It was not possible he could forgive her.

  “That must be why I was acting so strangely,” Dominic added, looking dazed. “I don’t understand. If I would have known it was done to me when it was cast, who did it? What does it do?”

  Say it. Get it over with. She was so tired.

  Ardhuin took a deep breath. “It was done before you were trained to see magic, so you noticed something but didn’t understand what had happened. And all it does,” she forced herself to say the words, “is prevent you from telling anyone about my roses.”

  The silence lengthened, spread through the room. Ardhuin looked down at her clenched hands and waited for the explosion.

  “You did this.” His voice was only a whisper. Ardhuin nodded, not daring to look at him. “Why?”

  She could hear the pain; it echoed her own. “Because I was being attacked. Because you walked through my defenses as if they weren’t there. Because you saw the roses of Oron, that no other mage has been able to duplicate, that would tell my enemies they had found me. Because I was afraid.”

  “But why haven’t you removed it? Don’t you trust me?”

  This was not the explosion she had been expecting. Ardhuin looked up at him. “Of course I trust you!” she blurted. “You wouldn’t be in here if I didn’t.”

  He gave her a look. “You can’t set a geas for that?”

  Ardhuin shook her head. “A geas can’t make someone trustworthy, and it can’t change what they think or believe. It only affects outward actions, like talking, or avoiding a certain place, or…or firing a gun, like the anarchist did. He had no objection to shooting the King. All the geas did was make him do it at a certain time and place.” Dominic still looked skeptical, and worried. “Look. The more a geas goes against someone’s convictions, the harder it is to set. Also, it is obvious they are under constraint.”

  “But you didn’t take it off.”

  “I couldn’t! By the time I knew I could trust you, you had learned enough of your gift to be able to tell I was doing something to you. I was afraid you would be angry if you found out. I was afraid,” Ardhuin said, her throat so tight she could barely speak, “that you would leave.” She dropped her head to her knees, wrapping her arms around them.

  “Ardhuin….”

  She refused to raise her head. It hurt too much already, and if she had to look at him when he spoke it would hurt more. She heard footsteps, the sounds of him before her. His hands touched hers and she started, but he grasped her wrists and did not let go.

  “Remove it. Now.”

  At this, she did look up. He was crouched in front of her, his expression grim.

  “You would let me? After I—”

  His mouth twisted. “Who better?” Dominic closed his eyes. “I remember noticing you were frightened, and wondering why. I think…just remove it. Then I will know what I think.”

  The question was, could she? It was trivial compared to setting it; hardly any power was used. In her current condition, however, it still might be too much.

  Ermut Arendt had warned of the dangers of overtaxing her magic. Well, did it matter if it did kill her? Right now life did not hold much attraction.

  She raised her hands to his head; his grip shifted but did not loosen. Ardhuin fought to keep from crying as soon as her fingers touched his face, realizing she had lost what she only now realized she had. The planes of his face, the angled cheekbones, were even more sharply delineated by pain, and seeing that, her eyes welled up. She had hurt him. The only thing she could do now was set him free.

  First, the resonance. As soon as she tried to summon power, pain flared through her as if her blood had turned to fire. She gasped, lost the thread of the resonance, then gritted her teeth and forced it back.

  Her hands shook with the strain; tears flowed freely down her face. Just a little more, a small counter-resonance that would break the pattern and set him free. The agony was a white-hot roar in her mind.

  A quick pulse was all that was needed to break the geas. She felt it dissolve under her hands.

  “It’s gone.”

  Dominic did not shift his position, did not release her hands. Then, slowly, he lowered them and stared at her. His dark eyes looked haunted.

  “I don’t feel any different.”

  “It was just for the roses,” Ardhuin whispered. “I’m sorry, Dominic.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. Then he suddenly leaned forward, gave her a hard, passionate kiss, and got up and left the workroom without saying a word.

  Ardhuin found she lacked the strength to even stand, but doing magic hadn’t killed her after all. She wondered if that was a good thing.

  12

  Dominic tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, his troubled thoughts keeping him awake despite his exhaustion. Too tired to sleep, perhaps…and then, with Ardhuin’s painful revelations so recent…she would be troubled too, he knew, and was probably awake as well. Thinking of her unhappiness drove sleep even further away.

  Twice he decided to go and find her—whether to resolve his own conflicted feelings or to comfort her he wasn’t sure. But then he would hesitate and change his mind, too tired to make the effort. All he could think of, round and round, was that he loved her and she had put a geas on him.

  She could do it again, and even if he knew about it, how could he stop her? He was beginning to realize how powerful she was. And yet…he could not forget the look on her face when she had said, I was afraid you would leave.

  He felt ashamed of his fear. When had she ever hurt him, even when he deserved it? When she was terrified, thinking he had been sent by the enemy trying to kill her, the most she had done was bind and question him. Even then, she could have added to her earlier geas with one more restrictive and forced him to leave. She hadn’t. Somehow, he knew she never would. Still,
she had the power. It would always be there.

  Dominic managed to doze off, but there was no refuge in sleep. He dreamed of the stone cells of the Kriegszauberkollegium and the imprisoned anarchist, screaming in mortal agony as Ardhuin removed the geas from him. Her hands were red with blood when she released the man, and Dominic realized it was her blood, that it poured from her palms in a torrent. She fell to her knees, looking to him with a soundless plea for help, but he could not move, he was frozen, watching helplessly as she fell unconscious on the bloody stone floor.

  He woke with a gasp, feeling nauseous, heart pounding. It was useless to think of sleeping now, and his watch told him it was almost morning anyway. He needed to see Ardhuin, to make sure she was all right. He should not have left her as he did.

  A vigorous wash with cold water cleared his mind a little, and he dressed, taking care not to wake the defensive magician still asleep within the wards. Shaking out his coat, he heard a rustling. The papers from von Gerling’s study—with everything that had happened, he had forgotten to give them to Markus. Should he find him now, despite the early hour? It was worth a try, in any event, and would be better than sitting in his room with his troubled thoughts.

  The defensive magicians on duty outside his room disclaimed any knowledge of Markus Asgaya’s location or activities, and seemed glad to say so. Dominic cast a look at the closed door to Ardhuin’s room. A maid came by with a tray containing a teapot and a dish of sweet rolls, leaving it on a table nearby after consulting with the guard. If Ardhuin was still sleeping, it would be better not to disturb her.

  Dominic went down to the main level of the Imperial Palace. The corridors were mostly empty, but he passed one door where he could hear the sounds of angry argument. No one he passed could tell him where Markus was. He found a settee in a corner, out of general view, and took the papers from his coat pocket.

  The first was a list of names, with notations. Some of the names had been crossed out. Dominic read the comments and started to feel a chill. “Mentioned as potential by v.R, approached and showed interest. Ambitious, ties to Echtkraftgemein.” “Resents military, was held back for promotion twice due to political opinions.” “Promising, intelligent and quite skilled. Family commoners, no patron so advancement limited. Suspicious, asking questions.”

  The name next to that comment had been crossed out.

  The next piece of paper was small, a half-sheet that had been folded many times. For concealment? It was covered closely with writing, but Dominic could not puzzle out the meaning or even the language it was written in. A code! There had been an article in The Family Museum about codes. He would have to try to see if he remembered any of the techniques for deciphering them.

  A torn scrap of paper was all that remained of the third piece he had rescued. He had found that one in the alley, so the remainder was probably still in von Gerling’s valise. It must have some importance.

  “… begin the next phase. We will…at need. Be certain to contact…place articles a week before…delay required…timed to match Feast of Sacrifice, and…common belief, and their own tradition will make the event credible and sure of success.”

  It was signed with the same glyph he had seen on the illusioned message Ardhuin had shown him, and he thought he could see the faint remnants of magic on this paper as well.

  Dominic got up, more determined than ever to find Markus. There were more people about now, but the angry meeting was still going on when he passed that door again. He reached the upper level and had only enough time to notice the tray outside Ardhuin’s door remained untouched when he heard Markus himself hailing him.

  “Well, at least I found one of you,” the defensive magician said. He looked tired and irritable. “Where have you been hiding, anyway?”

  “I was trying to find you,” Dominic answered, surprised. “What is wrong?”

  “My most immediate problem is locating Fraülein Andrews. She’s not in her room. The fool guard didn’t even check for himself when he relieved the man before him, just assumed she was there. Where do they get such idiots?”

  “The workroom?” Dominic blurted and started to run down the hall.

  “Yes, that’s why I was looking for you. I tried my usual method, but no response,” Markus said with a trace of his customary grin. “I don’t think she likes it. But what happened? I thought you were going to see that she got some rest. She could barely stand, and you let her stay up working?”

  Dominic bit back an angry response, feeling guilty. He could hardly explain to Markus, of all people, what had happened last night. The door to the workroom was before him, the ward undisturbed. He reached for the door handle, but the door opened before he could grasp it.

  Ardhuin stood in the doorway, still wearing the simple dark outfit she had worn the previous day, only now it was creased and rumpled. If she had slept, it had not rested her. She looked at Dominic, then at Markus and the group of defensive magicians that had been clustered around the hall.

  Markus breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. If we had managed to mislay you, the King would have had us all execute each other.”

  Ardhuin blinked. “I was inside,” she said, gesturing. Her voice was rough. “I didn’t…I slept there. I didn’t want to cast wards.”

  Now Dominic really felt ashamed. “You mean, you were too tired to cast wards.” At least she’d had the sense to stay in the workroom, with its permanent defenses. “If you were so tired, why did you—” he stopped, remembering Markus stood next to him.

  “It was important,” Ardhuin said, her voice so faint he could barely hear it. “Don’t you agree?”

  “I admire your dedication, but if you could keep us informed of your whereabouts at all times, it would reduce the number of headaches I must suffer. No one mentioned it to you, I am sure, but half of the Kriegsa wants to arrest the other half, the Council wants to arrest the whole, and the army is strongly suggesting the imposition of martial law until the situation is cleared up.” Markus closed his eyes, clearly struggling to regain his calm.

  “I see. Is this because of von Gerling?” Ardhuin asked, after a pause.

  Markus nodded, looking even more tired. “He was in a powerful position, and if his loyalty is suspect….” He gave Ardhuin a critical glance. “Forgive me, but you do not appear to enjoy your customary good health. May I suggest a visit by a physician is in order? We can’t afford to lose you, you know. Especially not now.”

  Ardhuin scowled. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “You did collapse yesterday,” Dominic said, wishing Markus and the others were not there so he could say more. Wishing they were back at Peran, and safe. “Please. Let them send for a doctor.”

  She gave him a long look, her face unreadable. Finally, she just nodded and slowly made her way down the corridor.

  “And why aren’t you catching up on your sleep as well?” Markus wanted to know, cheerfully oblivious to his earlier impatience at Dominic’s absence.

  Dominic glanced around, then handed Markus the papers. “I forgot to give you these. One I think is a code, but the others—they smell like a plot to me.”

  Markus scanned them quickly. The list of names held his attention the longest. “Yes, I think you are correct,” he said. His expression was serious. “Did you recognize any names?” Dominic shook his head. “I did, two of them. They were from the Kriegsa. They both died in duels.”

  The doctor sent to her was a quiet little man with a bald head and a full beard. He did not seem at all surprised that his patient was a woman; presumably someone had warned him ahead of time. It was hard for her to pay attention to his questions, to think about what he was asking her. She felt numb, as if a thick cloud separated her from everything around her.

  She just wanted it all to go away. Forget Preusa, forget the politics. Forget the wary expression in Dominic’s eyes when he looked at her, which hurt more than anything she’d felt in her life. There was little hope of improvement that she coul
d see. She wanted oblivion.

  Ardhuin had never been examined by a thaumatic physician before, so she had no idea if he was doing anything unusual. Among other things, he had her hold a sheet of paper, which he carefully sanded with what looked like powdered pearl, and then asked her to summon power. The sharp stabbing pain did not return, to her relief. The little granules shifted in a pattern, which he duly noted with a thoughtful expression and informed her there did not seem to be any permanent damage to her abilities. He ended by prescribing a sleeping draft, and left.

  Her first emotion when she woke, later in the afternoon, was disappointment. Sleep had only deferred her problems for a little while. She did feel better, though. With an effort, she forced herself to leave the comfortable safety of her room. The sooner she solved Preusa’s problems, the sooner they would let her leave.

  Markus Asgaya found her shortly after she emerged. Dominic was nowhere in sight.

  “How charming!” Markus said, giving her an admiring glance. “You will enliven the gloom of the company simply by your presence.”

  Ardhuin looked down. She wore a cream-colored tea gown, the only article of clothing both she and her mother approved of—she because of the comfort, her mother because of the cut and style. She hadn’t even been aware of what she had chosen when she put it on.

  “Should I wear something else?”

  Markus shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I admit the protocol for female Mage Guardians has not yet been established, but that simply means you will be the standard against which all others will be judged. A weighty task, but you have begun admirably. Besides, you are the heir of Oron. A certain eccentricity is expected.”

  What had her great-uncle done to earn this reputation? Shown up without a shirt?

  “Come,” Markus said, offering his arm. “They want to hear your version of last night’s events. I delayed them as long as I could, but now that you are awake they will insist on your presence.”