Magician: Master

by Raymond E. Feist

  They hurried to Kamatsu’s study and opened the door without ceremony. Kamatsu looked up, annoyed at the interruption. His expression changed immediately when he saw who was at his door. “Great One, what is it?” he asked, as he arose.

  Milamber quickly conveyed the events of the day, and Katala paled at the recounting. The Lord of the Shinzawai shook his head. “You may have set processes in motion that will forever change the internal order of the Empire, Great One. I hope it is not a death blow. In any event, it will take years to gauge their effects. Already the Party for Progress is making overtures to the Party for Peace for alliance. In a short time you have had great effect upon my homeland.”

  Kamatsu continued, preventing Milamber from speaking. “That is not a thing of the moment, though. You who were once my slave have learned greatly, but you are still not Tsurani. You must understand the Warlord cannot allow such a setback and save face. He most likely will take his life in shame, but those who follow his lead—his family, his clan, his subordinates—will all mark you for death. Already there may be assassins hired, or magicians who are ready to act against you. You have no choice but to flee to your homeland with your family.”

  William decided it was appropriate now to cry, for in spite of his attempts at bravery his mother was frightened, and the boy felt it. Milamber turned away from Kamatsu and incanted a spell, and William was immediately asleep. “He will sleep until we are safe.” Katala nodded and knew it was for the best, but still she disliked the necessity.

  “I have no fear of any magician, Kamatsu,” Milamber said, “but I fear for the Empire. I know now that, no matter how hard my teachers in the Assembly tried, I can never be Tsurani. But I do serve the Empire. In my disgust over what I witnessed in the arena, I became sure of what I’ve suspected for some time now. The Empire must change its course, or it is doomed to fall. The rotten, weak heart of this culture cannot support its own weight much longer, and like a ngaggi tree with a rotten core, it will collapse under its own weight. There are other things, things of which I may not speak, that I have learned in my time here, that tell me great change must come.

  “I must leave, for should I stay, the Assembly, the High Council, all the Empire will be divided. I would have difficulty leaving the Empire were it not in the best interest of Tsuranuanni for me to depart. That is my training. But before I leave, I must know, has there been word from Laurie and your son of the Emperor’s overture of peace?”

  “No. We know they disappeared during a skirmish the first night. Hokanu’s men searched the area after the fight and found no signs of them, so it is assumed they were safely away. My younger son is certain they reached a road behind Kingdom lines. Since then we have had no further word. Other members of our faction wait with as much trepidation as I.”

  Milamber considered. “Then the Emperor is still not ready to act. I had hoped it might be soon, so we could safely leave under the truce, before opposition to me becomes organized. Now, with the Warlord’s announcement of victory over Duke Borric’s army, we may never see peace.”

  Kamatsu said, “It is clear you are not Tsurani, Great One. With the Warlord in disgrace from your destruction of games he dedicated to the Light of Heaven, the War Party will be in disorder. Now the Kanazawai Clan will once more remove itself from the Alliance for War. Our allies in the Blue Wheel will work doubly hard to press for a truce in the High Council. The War Party is without an effective leader. Even should the Warlord prove shameless and not kill himself, he will be quickly removed, for the War Party needs a strong leader, and the Minwanabi are ambitious; for three generations they have sought the white and gold. But others in the High Council will press the claims as well. The War Party will be in disarray, and we shall gain time to strengthen our position, as the Game of the Council continues.”

  Kamatsu looked long at Milamber. “As I have said, there are those who are already plotting to take your life. Make for your homeworld now. Do not delay, and you should likely win safely through. It might not occur to any but a few that you will strike for the rift at once. Any other Great One would take a week putting his house in order.” He smiled at Milamber. “Great One, you were a fresh breeze in a stale room while you were with us. I am sorry to see you leave our land, but you must go at once.”

  “I hope the day will come when we may meet again as friends, Lord of the Shinzawai, for there is much that our two people could learn from one another.”

  The Shinzawai lord placed his hand upon Milamber’s shoulder. “I hope also for that day, Great One. I will send prayers with you. One thing more. If you should perchance see Kasumi in your homeworld, tell him his father thinks of him. Now go, and good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” said Milamber. He took his wife by the arm and hurried back toward the pattern room. When they reached it, a chime sounded, and Milamber pushed his wife and son behind him. A brief haze of white appeared over the pattern in the floor, and Fumita stood there, startled.

  “Milamber!” he said, stepping forward.

  “Stop, Fumita!”

  The older magician stood still. “I mean you no harm. Word of what occurred has reached those of the Assembly not attending the games. The Assembly is in turmoil. Tapek and the other Warlord’s pets demand your life. Hochopepa and Shimone argue on your behalf. Never has such discord been seen. In the High Council, the War Party demands an end to the independence of the Assembly during times of war, and the Party for Progress and the Party for Peace are in open alliance with the Blue Wheel Party. The Empire is upside down.”

  The older magician seemed to droop visibly as he related this. He looked years older than Milamber had ever remembered seeing him. “I think you may have been right in many of your beliefs, Milamber. We must have changes in the Empire if we are not to decay, but so many changes so quickly? I don’t know.”

  There was a moment of silence between them; Milamber said, “What I did was for the Empire, Fumita. You must believe that.”

  The older magician nodded slowly. “I believe you, Milamber, or at least I wish to.” He seemed to stand more erect. “Whatever the outcome there will be much for the Assembly to do when things have settled. Perhaps we can steer the Empire to a healthier course.

  “But you must go quickly. No soldier will try to stop you, for only a few outside the Holy City know of your actions, but the Warlord’s pets may already be seeking you out. You caught our brothers by surprise at the games, and none singly could stand against you, but if they coordinate against you, even your vaunted powers will avail you little. You would have to kill another magician, or be killed in turn.”

  “Yes, Fumita, I know. I must go. I have no desire to kill another magician, but I shall if I must.”

  Fumita looked pained at hearing this. “How are you to reach the rift? You haven’t been to the staging area, have you?”

  “No, but I go to the City of the Plains, and from there I can command litter.”

  “It is too slow. The litter will take over an hour to reach the staging area.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a transfer device. He held it out to Milamber. “The third setting will take you directly to the rift machine.”

  Milamber took it. “Fumita, I mean to try to close the rift.”

  Fumita shook his head. “Milamber, even with your powers I don’t think you can. Scores of magicians worked to create the great rift, and the controlling spells were established only on the Kelewan side. The Midkemian machine is only to stabilize the rift’s location.”

  “I know, Fumita. You’ll soon know, for I’ve sent my works to Hocho. My ‘mysterious’ research has been an intensive study of rift energies.

  “I may now know more about them than any other magician in the Assembly. I know it would be a desperate, possibly destructive, action from the Midkemian side, but this war must end.”

  “Then get free to your homeworld and wait. The Emperor will act soon, I am sure. The Warlord could not have been handed a bigger blow by losing the war than the one you h
anded him in the arena. If the Light of Heaven orders peace, then perhaps we can deal with the question of the rift. Stay your hand until you’ve learned what the King’s reaction to the peace offer is.”

  “Then you also play the Great Game?”

  Fumita smiled. “I am not the only magician to descend into playing politics, Milamber. Hochopepa and I have been a part of this from the onset. Go now, and may the gods be with you. I wish you a safe journey and a long, prosperous life on your homeworld.”

  He then walked past Milamber and his family. Once he was out of sight, Milamber activated the device.

  —

  THE SOLDIER JUMPED. One moment he had been sitting under a tree, shaded from the setting sun’s heat, then the next moment a magician with a woman and child suddenly appeared before him. By the time he was on his feet, they were moving toward the rift machine, several hundred yards away. When they reached the machine, a platform with tall poles rising up on either side of it, between which a glimmering “nothingness” could be seen, an officer who was in charge of the troops moving through snapped to attention.

  “Get these men back from the platform.”

  “Your will, Great One.” He barked orders, and the men fell back. Milamber took Katala by the hand and led her through the rift.

  One step, a moment of disorientation, and they were standing in the middle of the Tsurani camp in the valley in the Grey Towers. It was night, and campfires burned brightly. Several officers were startled at the unusual arrival, but stepped out of their way.

  Milamber said, “Have you captured horses?”

  One of the officers nodded dumbly.

  “Bring two, at once. Saddled.”

  “Your will, Great One,” said the man, and rushed off.

  Soon a soldier brought two horses toward him. When the soldier came close, Milamber could see it was Hokanu. The younger Shinzawai son looked quickly about as he handed the reins to Milamber. “Great One, we have just received word something terrible has occurred at the Imperial Games, though the reports are vague. I suspect your sudden appearance here has something to do with those reports. You must be away quickly, for these are the Warlord’s men in camp, and should they arrive at the same conclusion, there is no telling what they might risk.”

  Milamber held William while Katala mounted with Hokanu’s aid. He handed their son up to her and mounted his own steed. “Hokanu, I have just seen your father. Go to him; he has need of you.”

  “I will return to my father’s estate, Great One.” The young Tsurani hesitated, then added, “Should you see my brother, tell him I live, for he does not know.”

  Milamber said he would, then turned to Katala and took the reins of her horse. “Hold to the saddle horn, beloved. I will carry William.”

  Without another word they rode out of camp. Several times guards started to challenge them, but the sight of the black robe stopped them. They rode for hours in the moonlight. Milamber could hear the shouts of soldiers as he led his family to safety.

  Katala bore up under it all like the warriors she was descended from, and Milamber marveled at her. She had never sat a horse before, but she made no complaint. To be taken from her home and whisked away to a strange, dark world, where she knew no one, must be a frightening experience. She revealed a tough fiber to her character he had only guessed at before.

  After the seemingly endless ride, a voice sounded from out of the darkness. Dim shadowy figures could be seen moving among the trees. “Halt! Who rides this night?” The voice was speaking the King’s Tongue. The three riders halted, and the man in front, with relief in his voice, shouted, “Pug of Crydee!”

  12

  Upheaval

  Kulgan sat quietly.

  It was a reunion tempered with sadness. Pug stood near Lord Borric’s bed, openly showing his grief as the dying Duke smiled wanly up at him. Lyam, Brucal, and Meecham waited a short way off, speaking softly, and Katala distracted William while the Duke and Pug spoke.

  Borric’s voice came softly, weak from his illness, and his face contorted with pain as he struggled for breath. “I am glad to see you…returned to us, Pug. And doubly glad to see your wife and child.” He coughed, and foam appeared at the corner of his mouth, flecked with blood.

  Katala’s eyes were tearing, for the open affection her husband held for this man touched her. Borric motioned toward Kulgan, and the stout magician came to stand next to his former pupil. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Borric whispered, and Kulgan turned to Meecham. “Will you see Katala and the boy to our tent? Laurie and Kasumi are waiting there.”

  Katala threw Pug a questioning look, and he nodded. Meecham had already picked up the boy, who regarded him with some skepticism. When they had left, Borric struggled to sit higher, and Kulgan helped him, placing pillows behind his back. The Duke coughed loudly and long, his eyes clenched tightly shut from pain.

  When at last he could breathe again, he sighed, then spoke slowly.

  “Pug, do you remember when I rewarded you for saving Carline from the trolls?” Pug nodded, afraid to speak for the emotions he felt. Borric continued, “Do you remember my promise of another gift?” Again Pug nodded. “Would that Tully were here to give it to you now, but I will tell you in brief. I have long thought the Kingdom wastes one of its greatest resources by regarding magicians as outcasts and beggars. Kulgan’s faithful service over the years has shown me I was right. Now you return, and though I understand only a little of what you’ve told, I can see you have become a master of your arts. It was my hope you would, for I have had a vision.

  “I had left a sum of gold in trust for you, against the day you became a master magician. With it, I would like you and Kulgan, and other magicians, to establish a center for learning, where all may come and share. Tully will give you the documents with my instructions, explaining in detail my design. But for now I can only ask: Will you accept this charge? Will you build an academy for the study of magic and other knowledge?”

  Pug nodded, tears in his eyes. Kulgan stood agape, not trusting what he had heard. His fondest wish, his life’s ambition, shared with the Duke in the idle hours of speaking of dreams over cups of wine, was now granted.

  Borric began to cough again, then when the fit passed, said, “I hold title to an island, in the heart of the Great Star Lake, near Shamata. When this war is at last done, go there and build your academy. Perhaps someday it will be the greatest center for learning in the Kingdom.”

  Again the Duke was racked by coughing, the sound more terrible than before. He gasped after the attack, barely able to talk. He motioned for Lyam to come close, pointed to Pug, and said, “Tell him,” then fell back upon his pillows.

  Lyam swallowed hard, fighting back the tears, and spoke to Pug. “When you were taken by the Tsurani, Father wished for some memorial in remembrance. He considered what would be proper, for you had shown bravery on three occasions, twice saving Kulgan’s life in addition to my sister’s. He judged the only thing you lacked was a name, for none knew your parentage. So he ordered a document drawn up and sent to the Royal Archives, inscribing your name on the rolls of the family conDoin, adopting you into our house.” Lyam forced a smile. “I only wish times were gladder to share such news with you.”

  Overcome with emotion, Pug sank to his knees at the Duke’s side. He took the Duke’s hand and kissed his signet, unable to speak. Softly Borric said, “I could be no more proud of you than were you my own son.” He gasped for breath. “Bear our name with honor.”

  Pug squeezed the once powerful hand, now weak and limp. Borric’s eyes began to close, and he struggled for breath. Pug released his hand, and the Duke motioned for all to come closer. Even old Brucal was red-eyed as they waited for the Duke’s life to slip away.

  To Brucal he whispered, “You are witness, old companion.”

  The Duke of Yabon raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly toward Kulgan. “What does he mean?”

  Kulgan said, “He wishes you to witness his dy
ing declaration. It is his right.”

  Borric looked at Kulgan and said, “Care for all my sons, old friend. Let the truth be known.”

  Lyam said to Kulgan, “Why does he say ‘all my sons’? What truth?”

  Kulgan stared at Borric, who nodded weakly. The magician’s words came quietly. “Your father acknowledges his eldest son, Martin.”

  Lyam’s eyes grew wide. “Martin?”

  Borric’s arm shot out in a sudden surge of strength, catching at Lyam’s sleeve. He pulled Lyam to him and whispered, “Martin is your brother. I have wronged him, Lyam. He is a good man, and well do I love him.” To Brucal he croaked a single word, “Witness!”

  Brucal nodded. With tears streaming down into his white moustache, he swore, “So do I, Brucal, Duke of Yabon, bear witness.”

  Suddenly Borric’s eyes went blank. His death rattle sounded deep in his chest, and he lay still.

  Lyam fell to his knees and wept, and the others also let their grief come unrestrained. Never to Pug had a moment been so bittersweet.

  —

  THAT NIGHT IT was a quiet group in the tent that Meecham had commandeered for Pug and his family. The news of Borric’s death had cast a pall over the camp, and much of Kulgan’s joy at seeing his apprentice returned safely had been blunted. The day slowly passed, with everyone becoming reacquainted, though they spoke softly and felt little joy. Occasionally one would leave the tent, wandering off to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Nine years of history had been exchanged slowly, and now Pug spoke of his flight from the Empire.

  Katala kept one eye on William, who lay curled up on a bed with one arm thrown over Fantus. The fire-drake and the boy had taken one look at each other and decided they were friends. Meecham sat by the cook fire, watching the others carefully. Laurie and Kasumi sat on the floor, Tsurani fashion, while Pug finished his narrative.

  Kasumi was the first to speak. “Great One, how is it that you could leave the Empire now, and not before?”