by B. J. Beach
Detecting a whiff of frayed nerves, Magnor kept his tone matter-of-fact. “Less than five minutes ago, the desert was moving under our feet, and we were close to being swallowed alive, close on the heels of the Grelfine Lord; not to mention destroying a city, letting loose a very angry god, and holding the fort while an entire nation took themselves to another world. I think we need to stop and breathe for a while. Anyway, there are a couple of things I have to check on, so I’ll see you both back here later.”
Before anything else could be said he had vanished, leaving behind the refreshing aroma of ferns and rain-washed air. Karryl was grateful for the respite. He stank of smoke, sweat, scorched wool, and that metallic reek that hangs around after powerful magic. He wanted a long cold drink and a long hot bath. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Symon was feeling considerably more uncomfortable than he cared to admit, and that neither of them would be in any hurry unless there was a peremptory command from the palace in the next hour or so.
* * *
The two magicians arrived in the tastefully furnished anteroom to find Magnor deep in conversation with Lady Evalin. Protocols were thrown aside as she hurried forward and wrapped Symon in a long warm hug, before holding out both her hands to Karryl and pulling him towards her to plant a kiss on his newly shaved cheek.
She stood back and studied them both, a glint of genuine pleasure in her deep blue eyes. “To be sure, it’s so good to see you both, and looking so well.”
Karryl opened his mouth to speak but Evalin raised her hand to forestall him. “Vailin is in his sitting room, so we’re all going to have refreshments in there, and then an informal dinner.” Her eyes glinted again. “I’m sure the conversation will be fascinating.” She offered her arm for Karryl to take. “Shall we all go in, gentlemen?”
They weren’t surprised to find Florian already comfortably settled. He stood up as they entered the room, and Vailin was hurrying forward to greet them before either of them had completed a half-decent obeisance.
Eyebrows raised, the young monarch gave them an enigmatic smile as he waved them towards a semi-circle of comfortable chairs. “I hope none of you were expecting a hero’s welcome.”
His pained expression matched that of Florian, as the three magicians pantomimed their disappointment at being robbed of their moment of fame and glory. Karryl weakened first, burst out laughing and collapsed into the nearest chair just as Jobling came in with a laden tray. Even in the hilarity of the tension-easing moment the young Mage-Prime was briefly taken back to a similar moment on the day he and Symon moved in to their palace apartment. It seemed a life-time ago. He took a deep breath, apologised to Vailin then sat quietly while Jobling poured tea.
* * *
The midsummer sun sank below the horizon, turning the ocean to a rippling sheet of blue-shot red silk as Jobling moved quietly round the table to pour the after-dinner wine. Vailin had made it quite clear that conversation could be as free and informal as they wished, but it was inevitable that the evening’s topics would all be centred on recent events. One particular question had been preying on Karryl’s mind, even before the return to Vellethen. Eventually he felt the conversation had turned in the right direction.
Half expecting the Arinish prince to be evasive, he looked across at Florian. “So, where have you taken Jaknu?”
Florian and Magnor exchanged glances, then both smiled as Florian replied. “With Magnor’s permission, your tame grelfon is now settling down to a new life in Alith.”
Karryl looked dubious. “Is he going to be able to bond with any of the Grrybhñnös?”
Magnor chuckled. “Almost all of them, I should imagine, and as His Majesty has graciously agreed that bowman Buller should remain on permanent detachment in Alith, we don’t foresee any problems.”
Appreciative of the excellent dinner and the fine wine, Karryl leaned back in his chair and let the undulating ripple of conversation flow around him.
His reverie was cut short by Vailin’s voice, and words which filled him with no small amount of trepidation. “...and give a full report to the Minister of Defence tomorrow.”
Symon’s immediate response was an uncharacteristic little grumble. “I remember when we reported to him on the grelfon attack in Vellethen. I was watching his face. I’m sure the insulated idiot didn’t believe a word I was saying.”
The young monarch struggled to keep a straight face. “Nevertheless, it all has to be entered in the annals. After all, it constitutes a vital chapter in the history of our nation.” He looked across at Karryl who was nodding in agreement. “Changing the subject completely Master Karryl; judging by your hard-won success I assume that you were able to interpret the Naborian Prophecy?”
The Mage-Prime shook his head and looked across at Magnor. “Not until it had been fulfilled, and even then it was Magnor who explained it.”
Vailin also looked across at the Grrybhñnös elder and raised an eyebrow. Magnor’s hand brushed across the blue jewel hanging round his neck.
After a few moments of expectant silence, he spoke. “The ‘lost’ were the Jadhrahin and the Vedrans, who were once one race, but the Vedrans were ‘lost’ to the Jadhrahin. They were then ‘found’ through the search for the artefacts, then ‘lost’ again with the destruction of Vedra. The fallen star is open to interpretation. It could be Ghian and the Vedrans, or it could be their ancient god and his abominable ancient city.” He fondled the jewel again and took a deep breath. “I knew all along, but was not permitted to say anything until now; the ‘golden one’ is, in fact, known to you all as Agmar, and he will be returning to Thermera as the golden Grrybhñnös known to them as Quaxlor, to reward the fisher-folk for their services and steadfast loyalty.”
After this revelation, everyone, particularly Symon, had numerous questions, and the remainder of the evening was spent in animated and frequently speculative conversation.
Eventually everything wound down and Vailin glanced at the water-clock in the corner of the room. “Now, gentlemen, it’s time we were all in our beds, so Lady Evalin and I will bid you goodnight.”
The three magicians made their bows. Last through the door, Karryl turned to close it behind him and noticed that Florian had remained in his seat. He guessed that the Arinish prince would be an overnight guest and he and Lady Evalin would be leaving by other means.
* * *
The soft rolling sigh of the ocean was being carried on a rising on-shore breeze. Magnor had accompanied Symon and Karryl to their apartment, and the three leaned on the wall of the porticoed cloister, enjoying the tranquillity of the late summer’s night.
Symon took a deep appreciative breath and spoke to no-one in particular. “Perhaps things can get back to normal, now all that’s over.”
Karryl chuckled. “I doubt it.”
His two companions spoke in unison. “Why’s that?”
The young Mage-Prime grinned as he turned and headed for the door. As he opened it he called back “Well, you’re not coming to my wedding in those old clothes are you?”
- The End -
AND NOW
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The Trouble With Magic
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