by Victor Poole
"Ajalia is my obedient slave, grandfather," Delmar said.
"And you're the Thief Lord now, I hear?" the king asked, chortling. His eyes went to Ajalia, and Ajalia thought again that she rather liked the king of Talbos.
"Yes, grandfather," Delmar said.
Thorn was standing near to the king, on one side, and Fallor was close on the other side. Elan slipped from behind Ajalia, and went to stand with his brothers.
"My son tells me you have disrupted my house," the king said to Delmar. Ajalia waited to see what Delmar would say; he blushed slightly, and then turned to her.
"I defer to your judgment," Delmar murmured to Ajalia. "How would you like to handle this?"
The king of Talbos watched this exchange with narrowed eyes; he had the same blue eyes that Delmar had, Ajalia noticed.
"Start with Rane," she murmured back, and Delmar turned to the king, who was watching him carefully.
"You have had several spies in my father's lands," Delmar said to the king, and the king smiled.
"What do you say to this?" the king asked Thorn. The king turned to Elan. "You hear him?" the king asked. "We are accused of spying, now."
"Rane is dead," Delmar said. "He attempted to subvert the transition of government." The king stiffened a little.
"How did Rane die?" the king demanded. Ajalia brought up magic from deep below the mountain, and from the sky above. She clasped the magic within her two hands, and then opened her palms towards the king. A sheen of blistering white shone against her skin where the magic was mixed.
The king, Ajalia saw, was capable of seeing magic. He stiffened again, and then his eyes went towards his three sons.
"All of you but my youngest," the king snapped, "away."
Thorn moved at once towards the door, but Elan hesitated, a sour look of displeasure on his face.
"Get out!" Thorn hissed back at his younger brother, and Elan, looking murderously angry, stomped out of the room, and slammed the door behind him. Ajalia heard the muffled shouts of boys, and the scuffle of the two men driving the stable boys from their hiding places.
"You have brought spies of your own, I hear," the king said, but he did not look angry. "So," he said, without waiting for an answer, "your little slave can do magic."
"I did not mean for Rane to die," Ajalia told the king. "I had promised to sponsor him as a citizen of the white city. He betrayed me, and when I defended myself with magic, I found that his soul was flammable." A long, low hiss left the king's lips. He held out the two silver birds to his youngest son, and Fallor carried the birds to a shelf that lay along the room, and set them down.
"I do not believe you, little girl," the king told Ajalia, "but I will wait to hear more." Ajalia put away the white magic that had shone in her hands, and she saw the old king watching her palms with jealous eyes. "How can she do that?" the king asked Delmar.
"Ajalia is the bright angel, the one sky angel who it was said will come," Delmar said promptly. The old king began to laugh, and Ajalia found, again, that she liked the old man. He viewed the sky angel, she thought, rather as she did, as a name for a pragmatic figure who cleared away nonsense.
"Prove to me that there is any sky angel at all," the king commanded, and Delmar at once launched into an answer. Ajalia saw that Delmar wanted to impress and to please his grandfather, the king.
"She can fly," Delmar said. "She came to Slavithe from the East, and she has destroyed the two black dragons who have plagued our world for so long."
The old king turned his blue eyes speculatively on Ajalia, and his lips were pursed.
"Prove it," the king said softly. He was looking at Ajalia, and when Delmar opened his lips to reply, Ajalia blocked out his words. She was staring at the king, and at what she could see of the king's soul. She had not let go of the strings of light from above and below, and she saw now that though the king had seemed not to have any visible lights, she found, after some effort, that she could see the barest glimmer of a structure beneath the surface. The soul of the king was like the invisible wall that Delmar had built around the black horse.
Ajalia could see the lights, and she could see most people's souls easily. She could see much of Fallor's color, which was brilliant blue and red, and floated beneath the surface of his skin. She looked at Delmar, and saw, to her surprise, that his insides, which had ever been open to her, were hidden now, like the king's soul was.
Ajalia thought that Delmar was doing some new trick, some method of hiding himself that he had learned from the old book. She thought that he had found some way of concealing his lights from those who could see magic, and she thought that Delmar's grandfather knew the same trick.
She looked again at the king, and saw the gleaming shape where his soul ought to be. Delmar's white brand Ajalia could still see, hovering over his heart, but the old king, she saw, had no brand of his own.
"Who has eaten your brand?" Ajalia asked the king. Delmar had been speaking, enumerating the things that Ajalia had done to straighten out the city; his voice stumbled, and he paused. The king, whose eyes had been fixed steadily on Delmar, looked over at her. Fallor, Ajalia saw, froze, and she gathered up power to disable the young man, if he tried to flee.
"What did you say, young woman?" the king asked. His voice was calm, and she knew that he was in a dangerous mood now. She had heard her own master use such a tone of voice, and it had usually preceded the metaphorical rolling of heads.
"Is it your son?" Ajalia asked the king. "Have you attempted to give your white brand to your son, Fallor?"
Fallor, Ajalia saw, was beginning to tremble. The king's eyes widened, and then his lips grew taut.
"I want this witch out of my house," the king told Delmar, who stepped forward, a frown on his face.
"Ajalia is not a witch," Delmar told his grandfather.
"I want her out!" the king shrieked, and he rose up unsteadily to his feet. "Get her out, get her out!" The king's voice wavered, and he stumbled back to his stool, and almost fell to the floor. Fallor darted to his old father, and caught him.
"You should leave," Fallor told Delmar, his eyes going with fierce dislike towards Ajalia. Ajalia stepped close to the old king, and knelt down on the floor.
"Listen, old man," she told the king. "I will remove the curse on your child, and I will restore his brand, in exchange for your blessing on Delmar's inheritance."
The king, who was still wheezing in anger, looked down at Ajalia with wide eyes.
"You cannot be serious," the king gasped, and he began to laugh. "Even I, with all my wisdom and power, have not been strong enough to lift the bane that is on my son. You cannot do what you say."
"Kill me if I fail," Ajalia told the king, her eyes fiercely burning into his. The king hesitated, and his lips pressed out, like the reaching light of stars, and then he sighed, and shook his head.
"It is impossible," the king said. Fallor lifted his father, and helped him to a deeper chair. The old king collapsed into the chair, and then began again to laugh. "This is absurd," the king told Delmar. "You can go," the king said to Fallor. "I will not move from this spot."
"I won't leave you, father," Fallor said angrily.
Ajalia drew the power into her hands again, and made a bright shimmer of white light. The king drew in a sharp breath, and stared at her.
"I can do what I say," Ajalia said. "I have vanquished the black worms, and I have cleared the city of Slavithe of evil. I will do what I have said."
"She can take out curses," Delmar told his grandfather. "She has healed me, and she has done the same for others in my city."
"Your city," the old king said hollowly. He attempted to laugh, but his voice seemed weakened now. Ajalia thought that the old king was attempting to avoid tears. He waved a hand at Ajalia. "Try," he said in a broken voice, "and when you fail, I will see you banished."
Ajalia drew her knife in a smooth motion. Fallor started to his feet, and looked ready to rush towards her, but Ajalia had already tu
rned the knife, and put the hilt into the old king's lap.
"You will hold my knife," Ajalia told the king, "and if, in ten minutes, I have not undone the curse on your little child, I will give you my throat to cut with my own knife."
The king took the knife with trembling fingers, and stared at Ajalia with eyes that were rapidly becoming wet with tears.
"It is impossible," the king told her, and she heard a note of desperate pleading in his voice. "It is cruel, to wring up my heart in this way. Your slave is a cruel wench," the king told Delmar with a laugh.
"She will do as she has said," Delmar told his grandfather in a firm voice. The king of Talbos laughed again, and then turned, with a brighter gaze, to Ajalia.
"I receive your offer," the old king said, no longer wavering with grief, "but if you succeed, you must have more than my blessing on your Thief Lord's rule over his own city. I can do nothing for Delmar," the old man said, looking at his grandson, "that he and you have not already done." The old king stared hard at Ajalia, and Ajalia felt that now she was seeing a proper gleam of the power in the old king. He looked like a canny old king, and a good-humored one. "He is the Thief Lord," the king told Ajalia. "I have more sources to rely on than Rane, and I have heard some of what you have done. You have not come here to ask for my blessing."
Ajalia waited for the king to finish; he was watching her as well, and he laughed.
"I see that you will not expose yourself," the king said, waving the hand that was not gripped hard around the hilt of Ajalia's knife. "Do what you can," the king said. "Heal my son, as you have said, and then we will see what you ask me for."
"And you will kill me if I fail?" Ajalia asked. The king laughed again.
"Your young lady is morbid," the king told Delmar, who met his eyes with a steady gaze. The king lost a little of his jocular manner, and sighed. "If you do what you have said," he told Ajalia, "I will be eternally grateful."
"It will turn out to be someone in your own house," Ajalia told the king. She was taking her bag from around her neck and shoulders, and giving it to Delmar. "Do not set it down," she told Delmar, who nodded. The old king laughed at them both.
"You are like a pair of children, making rules for your games," the king told them. "Don't you know that you cannot win against such an old player as myself?"
"I do not underestimate you," Ajalia told the old king. "That is why I will win." The king narrowed his eyes, and watched her with a gleam of cunning in his face.
"You say that you think it will be someone in my house," the king said. "What do you mean by this?"
"When I lift the curse," Ajalia said, "some one person in your immediate house will miss the curse, and they will either attempt to reinstate it, or to kill you, to hide themselves from punishment. What will you do to prevent this?"
The old king's face had grown sober. Ajalia felt that more and more of the king's native faculty was becoming involved. He no longer looked like a tired old father; he now looked very much like a crafty old king.
"Say more of what you mean," the king said. Ajalia saw that the king was reserving his words, and hoping for her to expose herself to him, so that he would have an upper hand over her.
"You know what I mean," Ajalia said. "I mean that one of your other children is at the back of this, and they will attack you, and me, and Delmar, and Fallor, when they see that he is no longer under their control."
"My children do not practice witchcraft," the old king hissed. His fingers were clutched hard around the knife, and his eyes were narrowed.
"Then I cannot help you or your son," Ajalia told the king. They stared at each other, and the old king's son looked avidly at Ajalia.
"What do you think of this, Fallor?" the king asked, his voice harsh. "What do you think of what she says?"
"We have tried everything else," Fallor told his father quietly. "We have tried everyone else. It may be just as she says."
"No!" the old king said, and his eyes were growing moist again. "No, I cannot take one of my children, in exchange for another."
"My brother is under guard," Delmar said, "and little Coren is dead." The old king gave a start, and looked around angrily at Delmar.
"Coren is dead?" the king demanded. His voice was like water tearing through sharp stones.
"Coren is dead," Delmar said.
"She killed him, too?" the king demanded, gesturing with the knife he held at Ajalia.
"My mother killed Coren," Delmar said, his words tight and strong. "She cut apart his soul, and blended him together with one of the shadow children."
The silence in the room was deadly and still.
"She did not," the king said, a note of abject horror in his voice.
"When the shadow was obliterated," Delmar said mercilessly, "Coren collapsed. He was covered in scars, and in carved thralls before he died."
The king looked at Delmar with fear and wonder in his eyes.
"How was this found?" he demanded.
"I had in my employ a young witch," Ajalia said. "Her mother specialized in removing curses. My young witch could not heal Coren, but she exposed the thralls on his face, and his arms, and chest."
"Coren had the oldest and vilest thrall inscribed below his eyes," Delmar said. Fallor let out a noise of disgust, and the king now was staring at Delmar with undisguised curiosity in his eyes.
"How did you keep the child from infecting others?" the king asked, turning suddenly to Ajalia. Ajalia shrugged.
"You would not believe me, if I told you," she told the king. "If you are unwilling to expose the evil within your own house, I can do nothing to help you."
"I will kill whoever it is," the king said quickly. "I will kill them with my own hands."
"I do not think it is Lerond," Ajalia told the king, and she saw his lips curl a little. It might be Lerond, the king's face seemed to say. Ajalia smiled, and the king glared at her.
"I will kill whoever it is," the king promised. "Now will you help us?"
KING FERNOS
Ajalia turned, and looked at Delmar, who nodded.
"He will keep his word," Delmar said.
"Yes," Ajalia said, "but he is thinking now of killing me, if he does not like what I say."
"I am not," the king said, but Ajalia knew that she was right.
"You have an adorable small twitch just under your left eye," Ajalia told the old king. "My master also twitches, when he is thinking of vengeance." The king clapped a hand to his eye, covering his cheek. "My master's left wrist twitches, though," Ajalia added. "He wears long robes, and no one but me knows when it happens. I don't think anyone else will see your twitching eye."
"Everyone knows about father's twitching eye," Fallor said. "You aren't special, or anything," he told Ajalia. If Fallor had been hoping to make his father feel better, he failed miserably, because the old king turned on his youngest son.
"What do you mean, everyone knows about my eye?" the old king demanded. Fallor blushed.
"Sorry," he said, his eyes flickering quickly to Delmar, and then back to his father. "Just, when you are angry, you twitch."
The old king let out an angry chuckle.
"I do not like today," the king announced. "And I won't think about killing you anymore," he added sourly to Ajalia. She regarded him soberly, and the king let out an angry cackle. "Go on, heal him if you can," the king said sharply, waving the knife at Fallor. "Come and tell me of your dead mother, boy," the king snapped at Delmar. Ajalia followed Fallor to another end of the room, and folded her arms.
"Why did you move all the way over here?" she asked Fallor. Fallow looked at her nervously, and shrugged.
"It makes my father uncomfortable," he said.
"Why?" Ajalia asked.
"The tests hurt," Fallor said.
"No they don't," Ajalia said.
"Ours do," Fallor said. Ajalia studied the young prince.
"Why is your father trying to heal you?" she asked.
"Stop talking to the boy
and get to work!" the old king shouted across the room. Ajalia laughed, and put a cord of her own red light into the young man.
"What is your father's name?" Ajalia asked. The young man looked at her, and frowned.
"His name is Fernos," Fallor said. "Why didn't you know that?" Ajalia shrugged.
"I like to hear your voice while I work," she said, which was perfectly true. Hearing the young man talk made it easier for her to find the blank spaces in his body; his voice seemed to shape itself around the hard spots where a chunk of magic would be hidden. "Tell me about your father," Ajalia said, and she pushed the red light through Fallor's red color. She found nothing but clear, honest light, and she picked up a thread of blue light from the ground, and began to pulse the light up into Fallor's soul. The young man began to talk, and as he told her of his father's long reign, and of his benevolence towards the people of Talbos, Ajalia began to chase down the almost invisible pieces of outlined magic that were tucked in around Fallor's heart. The magic that was hidden there was like the magic of the king's soul, and like the magic that Delmar had begun to use, concealed magic. It shone with the barest outline at the edges, like a piece of shimmering cut glass. Ajalia drew up a cord of bright gold from beneath the earth, and fed the golden light into the glass-like shapes. There were three of them, and they were small and cut sharp at the edges. The blocks of soul that had been in Delmar, in Rane, and in Ocher had all been clumsy and large; these three bits in Fallor were like delicately shaped knick-knacks of fragile glass.
When Ajalia put the golden light into the pieces, they became suddenly visible, and shimmered around the edges.
"Oh," Fallor said, and put a hand to his chest. "Did you find something?" he asked. Ajalia took a deep breath, and reached for a cord of blue light from the sky.
Fallor looked around at his father. The old king was leaning his chin on his fist and seemed deep in discussion with Delmar, who had drawn a stool near to the old king's chair.