He had known that the pretty alchemist liked him, and was certainly flirting with him, but this was the first tangible sign that she had feelings beyond professional respect and admiration. As her softer-than-dew lips pressed against him, her tongue playfully dueled with his. The effect was erotic and mind-stopping - for a few moments he forgot bout all of his other troubles and just enjoyed kissing the sweet-smelling girl.
When they finally, reluctantly broke the kiss, Tyndal had found himself possessed of a new optimism about his situation. Estasia’s kiss gave him the validation he needed that he was on the.right track, like a sign from Ishi. He also understood that it was a feeling born more of desperation than reason, but that very desperation allowed him to ignore that fact.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, curious. “Not that I’, objecting . . . it just seems . . . a little out of character.”
She smiled in the candlelight. “What, taking advantage of a powerless, incredibly handsome hero who I’ve lured into a dark, deserted library? Considering the folks back home who believe I’m destined to become an evil sorceress, that’s completely in character.”
“No, I meant . . . why kiss me, when it’s clear you’re set on a career in magic, not a husband. I mean, you remind me of Lady Pentandra, and despite her discipline-”
“Sex magic?” Estasia asked wickedly, delighting in the scandal of the controversial field of study.
“Uh, yeah. She’ll screw a maiden goat.if that’s what her studies demand, but she doesn’t go around . . cultivating romances,” he finished, lamely.
“Maybe a girl just likes you, Sir Tyndal,” Estsia said softly, with humor. “Maybe she’s just taken by your charm - or lack thereof - your wit, your bravery, your, your . . . muscles,” she said, reaching out and feeling his bicep. “Dear Ishi’s dewy- well,” she said, dropping her hand and regaining her composure. “Can’t a girl just like a boy and want to be intimate with him?”
“Sure,” Tyndal said, not entirely displeased by her commentary. “I’m fond of the practice. You have to understand, though, why I’m cautious. My master has enemies-”
“And apparently you do as well,” she pointed out. “I don’t know much about your master, but I imagine he also has allies?”
He thought of Lady Pentandra, Lady Alya, Sire Cei, Baron Arathanial and all of the other good folk Master Min had surrounded himself with,
“Well, yes,” he admitted.
“And now, so do you,” she concluded. “It’s wizard’s prerogative to cultivate allies. That’s essentially what I’m doing with you and Rondal. Good, dependable, powerful, well-placed allies.”
“So you aren’t trying to just get me drunk and drag me to a priestess?” he asked, only half joking.
“Ishi’s twat!” she swore, unexpectedly. “Get over yourself! You might be Sir Tyndal the great Knight Mage, but I do have a career to think about. You might be cute, but you aren’t cute enough to convince me to give up magic!”
“My wife would never have to give up magic,” Tyndal said, absently. “But I’m not looking for wife!” he added, desperately.
“Nor I aspirations of being one,” she said, coolly. “But it’s good to know your feelings on the matter.”
For once Rondal arrived in a timely enough manner to cut short the conversation’s uncomfortable direction. If he suspected the two had been kissing, he showed no signs.
“It’s way too dark in here,” he said, as he took his bg off of his shoulder and casually cast a bright magelight. Tyndal suppressed a surge of envy.
“Let’s get this started,” he told them. “I don’t want to wait one second longer than necessary.”
“I’ll spellbind the door so we won’t be disturbed,” Rondal offered. “You get ready.”
They took positions on the floor after Rondal warded the door. Tyndal sat down and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. He was pretty good with action-based spells, like combat magic or spellmongering. These more contemplative workings were the stuff of academics and scholars, not warmagi. He glanced at Estasia and vowed to cultivate such disciplines more in the future.
The process of forming an apis was incredibly difficult without the crutch of his witchstone, Tyndal realized. But once it had manifested, he connected it with Rondal’s matching spell and suddenly he had a surge of power at his disposal like he hd not felt in days. Not nearly as much as if he’d had his own irionite, but more than enough to do the job at hand.
But Rondal had been right to be concerned about the intimacy of the working, Tyndal realized as they settled into the first big spell they’d done together. After making the connection with the other two magi, he suddenly knew and felt things about Estasia he never would have known. Just how much she liked him, for one. The strength and intensity of the feeling was potent. She, too, suddenly recognized some things about him, things that made him uncomfortable.
And his fellow apprentice, too, had some residual feelings that bridged the connection along with the power. The longing, the loneliness, the envy, the disappointment, the self-deprecation, the . . . the whole long sad litany of things that made Rondal who he was inflicted itself on Tyndal with an understated sadness. Tyndal felt sorry for him and was irritated by it at the same time.
Then he realized just what feelings he might be projecting, and he resolved to focus his mind and emotions more tightly. He felt the emotions of the other two pull away as they made their own adjustments.
They said very little while they worked. Rondal provided the power until Estasia was able to cast her portion of the spell. The moment she nodded her head, Tyndal turned his attention to scrying.
The results came in much more slowly than if he’d had his witchstone, but even so their combined efforts yielded a number of “blank” spots in their scrying. More than Estasia had figured upon. But luckily there were but a few within the area they had decided would be the only possible places the thief could have stashed the stone.
“Time to let the thief remember what he did,” Anastasia said, “Casting the recall spell . . . now!”
Without a means of knowing whether or not the spell had worked, they let the working fail and discussed the results.
Soon they had narrowed the field significantly, and were excited by the spell’s success - excited enough that they didn’t feel the need to speak about the unaccustomed intimacy. They had gotten plenty of data, enough so that they were able to make some astute guesses about just which, exactly, of the “blank spaces” might be hiding the stone. They narrowed it down to a list of the most likely, and decided what order they would explore their options.
They trudged up the stirs to the North Tower, where their first target field lay. It lay outside of their room.
“Let’s go get it,” Tyndal said, at once, as he looked out the window that had allowed the thief to come in.
“No!” Rondal insisted. “He’s got to have it warded. Spellbound, even. With shadowmagic we could spend days searching for it and never see it. We have to get the thief to lead us to precisely where it is, and then get him to dispel the cloaking and protection spells.”
“Which I’m certain he’ll do out of a sense of contrition,” Tyndal said, dismissively.
“No, you’ll threaten to stab him if he doesn’t,” Rondal pointed out.
“That is my plan,” agreed Tyndal.
“Well, don’t,” argued Rondal. “At least not yet.”
“You have a better suggestion?” Tyndal asked, skeptically.
“I do. We need to flush him and his confederate out. We’ve narrowed the list of prospective thieves, we’ve re-constructed the crime, and we have some good guesses about who it is . . . and who their confederate is.”
“We do?” Tyndal asked.
“Don’t we?” Rondal responded. He named a few suspects who fitted the facts. Tyndal considered each one, then added another. Estasia chimed in with two more possibilities, and then they argued until they had discarded some of their suspects
. She left soon after they had concocted a plan that might flush the thief out, the boys thanking her profusely for her help.
“So do we really think we can flush this guy out?” Tyndal grumbled. “Can’t we use your witchstone as bait?”
“Hells, no!” Rondal said, appalled. “No, we’re using your stone as bait. And our story to motivate him. Just keep calm and let the magic work,” he encouraged. “We spread the rumor that Master Min is coming here for a surprise visit, let it be known off-hand that it amounts to an inspection, and the only people who will be troubled are the guilty ones.” He sighed, expressively. “You know, that was . . . that was amazing!”
“What was?” Tyndal asked, still staring out of the window.
“That spell. The way we were connected. It was like . . . like watching her breathe. From the inside.”
He chuckled despite himself – it was an apt description of the experience. “So if you got that much,” reasoned Tyndal, “then you also realize . . . ?”
“Yes, she doesn’t like me,” groaned the boy. “At least not like she likes you. Yes, point conceded. You are her heart’s temptation. I’m not. That doesn’t make me hate you less.”
“’Fault not the victorious for their achievements, but instead fault the rules of the contest,’ “ quoted Tyndal. “I cannot help how she feels.”
“No, but you don’t have to feel that way back!” Rondal accused.
“As if I had any say over Ishi’s whim!” he snorted. “Look, I do like her. She’s pretty. She’s smart. She’s . . . funny, even. But I don’t like her nearly as much as she likes me. And part of why she likes me is I don’t let her know I like her that much. That’s one of the Laws of Love.”
Rondal made a face. “You can’t study love like you study physics!”
Tyndal shrugged. “Why can’t you? Just because love is Ishi’s domain does not mean it’s forbidden to study as you would any other subject.”
“It’s . . . it’s dishonest!” blurted Rondal. “You should let it happen naturally, and not try to force it!”
“And how is that strategy succeeding for you?” Tyndal shot back. The question hung in the air, defying Rondal to defend his position.
“It’s just wrong,” Rondal said, sullenly, at last. “Love just happens. There are no rules.”
“Why are those who least know about love those most insistent they know all about it? There are too rules,” Tyndal assured him. “You can deny it, but you might as well deny gravity. It will be as effective. Men and women,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “mate. And they do so according to easily-observed rules of behavior. A wise man does so consciously, if not conscientiously, according to Sire Rose.”
“Sire Rose!” sneered Rondal. “He’s a self-absorbed, cynical boob!”
“You’ve read him,” Tyndal countered, evenly, “and he has a lot of excellent and pragmatic advice on love. And no, he does not advise fawning all over a woman. Quite the contrary. He counsels strength and silence.”
“And they just walk into your arms when you do that,” Rondal said, skeptically.
“Well, you keep doing what you think best,” Tyndal said with a sigh. “And I’ll follow Sire Rose’s advice, and we’ll see who fares better,” proposed Tyndal.
“My romantic life is not here to amuse you!”
“Your romantic life isn’t amusing anyone,” Tyndal pointed out. “Take my advice or keep doing this idiot-waiting-for-attention act you’ve perfected, either way is fine by me. But eventually you’re going to get tired of being lonely and realize that being nice and friendly to girls makes you seem harmless.”
“I am harmless!” Rondal declared.
“And that’s why you fail,” Tyndal snapped. “Quit being so harmless. Girls don’t desire harmless men. They want dangerous men who have decided to lay aside their danger on their behalf.”
“That’s . . . that’s . . .”
“That’s a testable hypothesis,” Tyndal finished. “I’m not saying that to be hurtful, Ron, I’m telling you this because the longer you spend playing the rabbit when you should be playing the hound the more you will resent it when you do realize this.”
“I think you’re just trying to get me in trouble,” dismissed his fellow apprentice. “But . . . that actually gives me an idea. I think I know who the thief is. And his confederate!"
“You do?” Tyndal asked, almost speechless.
“I think so,” Rondal agreed, smugly, and explained his reasoning.
“That . . . that actually makes a lot of sense,” Tyndal agreed. “How do we . . . ?”
“We get them to move it,” answered the other boy with a nod. “Then you wait here to nab the thief while I contend with his friend.”
“You think you’re up to that?” asked Tyndal, surprised.
“I’m a knight mage,” reminded Rondal. “And right now, I’m the most powerful one on campus,” he added, boldly.
Tyndal rolled his eyes and handed him the wand he had been toying with. “Take this anyway,” he advised. “If your great and powerful sorceries cannot bring him to bear . . . poke him in the eye or something.”
* * *
They started the next morning at breakfast, after reporting to the Head Master, where they all quietly spread the whispered rumor that Magelord Minalan the Spellmonger was due to make a surprise visit . . . and inspection. They left the details of his arrival and its purpose open to speculation, but the word spread like milk across a table. Both boys were alert for any signs that their prospective thieves would give themselves away, but there were no confessions forthcoming.
But the rumor did have the required effect. They let it brew all day, until the entire campus was abuzz.
“There’s no way he’ll let that stone just sit there and be discovered,” Rondal promised, when they met up after lunch.
“Let’s just stick to the plan,” Tyndal said, worriedly. “I still think it’s long-shot.”
After dinner Tyndal collected Ancient Galdan, the captain of the guard, to sit with him at the darkened window and await the thief while Rondal shadowed his partner elsewhere. Estasia had insisted on waiting with Tyndal, and in truth he did not mind her company. She smelled much better than Ancient Galdan.
Now . . . if everything they’d figured was correct . . .
Their patience was rewarded when a dark figure crossed the rooftops, swathed in black and shadow. With a single glance toward their window the thief went to a chimney leading from the bowels of the school below . . . and triggered the wards Rondal had set there.
The spell wasn’t highly focused or dangerous - that might have been noticed with magesight - merely something to foil a quick getaway and indicate where the trespasser had touched.
With a growl Tyndal sprang out onto the roof through the window, Slasher in hand, the Ancient right behind him as they moved cautiously but quickly across the slate tiles. As they came nearer, the thief overcame the effects of the spell and whirled to meet them. His hood had been thrown back, confirming their suspicions.
“Kaffin,” Tyndal said, sighing sadly. “I thought it was you!”
“Really? How? What gave me away?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“The test,” Tyndal decided. “You utterly failed that test. You’re a good student. I checked. But you were supposed to be studying all night. That was your alibi.”
“But other people testified that they saw me studying!” he protested.
“Exactly! You had studied. You’re even a quick study, if you’re familiar with the material. But you weren’t. Even though you read it. Because you were under the influence of a memory agent. You read the material, but you didn’t recall it any more than you recalled poisoning me, paralyzing me or stealing my stone. Not until the restoration spell we cast last night!”
Kaffin smirked. “Then why didn’t you come after me?”
“Because I wanted to be sure,” Tyndal said, walking carefully toward the boy. The Ancient drew his sword behind him. “It
made sense, but I wanted you to reveal yourself. I restored your memory—“
“Actually, I restored his memory,” reminded Estasia. “Remember?”
“It was my idea,” Tyndal defended. “When you remembered you committed the crime, you also remembered where you had stashed the stone. You didn’t need to retrieve it until you left the school at the end of term, so you didn’t need to remember where you left it until then - when your partner would remind you when it was safe to do so.
“By that time either it would have been discovered or we would have given up the search. We could have questioned you a hundred times, but if you didn’t remember stealing it, you couldn’t confess it. Without remembering you did it, you wasn’t couldn’t remember where you put it.
“But then we made you remember,” Estasia said. “We let it be known that the stone’s hiding place was in danger. You might be able to hide it from us, but the Spellmonger? You couldn’t take that chance. So you had to check and make sure that it hadn’t actually been found, and move it, once you remembered you stole it.”
“So I made you come to me,” Tyndal picked up. “Or at least back to where you hid my stone. Once you had your memory back and heard that my Master was coming to Inarion, you had to act.”
“And how did you know where that was?”
“I saturated the entire campus with a low-level magical field,” explained Estasia. “The same time we did the memory restoration spell. It was visible by scrying . . . every place it being absorbed or countered. Once we knew where the cloaking spells were – and there were a lot more than we anticipated – narrowing it down to the most likely spots, the ones near to the path between the tower and where we found the cloak, wasn’t difficult.”
“We knew you couldn’t have had it on you, and you wouldn’t have stashed it in your room. So you put it up here, on the way of your escape. You met your accomplice – but didn’t hand off the stone. He gave you the drug, instead, and stashed your cloak and gloves. You had just enough time to get back to your room, slip in without notice, and return to studying without anyone suspecting you got out. Shadowmagic,” Tyndal said.
Knights Magi (Book 4) Page 14