by Garon Whited
He smiled. “I am sure that, with time, your wizardry will turn to more scholarly endeavors.”
“You’re a magician,” I said, realizing. “You’re just dressed like a wizard to avoid attracting attention?”
“Indeed. Bravo.”
“I should have guessed when you said who you were with. I’m slow today. But you say you can see I’m telling the truth. Where does that leave us?”
“With a mystery,” he admitted. “I will tell the others.”
“You also say that Tobias is gaining power?”
“Yes. Your campaign against the hierarchy of the Church—or, rather, what most believe to be your campaign—has been steadily thinning their ranks. Tobias has been taking advantage of the power vacuum. If this continues, he is a good candidate for the next Patriarch. With King Relven dying, it is likely he will soon wield considerable political power as well; the Dukes have not settled the succession. His support will be much sought-after.”
“Did you ever consider that Tobias might be behind it? He could be murdering them and framing me for it.”
Meryth looked surprised. “Nonsense! He is a man driven only by the need to see the world cleansed of evil; I have seen it in his heart.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “I once held a post as a crystal-gazer for the Hand,” he admitted. “I have seen him many times.”
“How recently?” I asked, thinking of some dreams I’ve had.
“Not recently. It has been more than a year.”
“Look again.”
Meryth frowned in thought, then shrugged. “When I might, I will. Since you have not done these deeds, I need no longer concern myself with asking you to cease. I must now turn our conversation to another matter.”
“Fire away.”
“There is a request by Duke Andalon that you attend him at the capitol.”
“Who the what now?”
He held up a hand. “Not as a nightlord, but as a wizard knight. You are the first in living memory, and your fame has spread considerably.” He chuckled. “There are many bards who favor certain songs of valor; it is unusual to have a living hero.”
“No kidding,” I muttered. “Any idea what he wants?”
“To meet and fete you, I understand. Perhaps you are not aware, but you are well-known across the length and breadth of the kingdom. Surely, some doubt that you exist, and since tales grow in the telling, many believe that you are not all the bards might claim. I would venture to guess that almost any man you ask will be able to tell you a tale of yourself.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “From the tales, I had expected you to be bigger.”
I sighed. Just my luck—world-famous and completely unrecognized. See what happens when you don’t have TV? I wondered if this was how William Wallace felt. On the other hand, if the Hand started yammering about how the hero was actually a nightlord, it might be a good thing to be unrecognized.
“Okay. So, are you an official messenger for Duke Anderson?”
“Duke Andalon,” he corrected. “And no, I am not. I merely know of his desire. Others are abroad with his invitation.”
“Right. Answer me something. When a noble wants to find someone or send him a message, how does he do it? A bunch of riders sent to all points of the compass?”
Meryth’s brows drew together. “That is one way, yes, if I follow your meaning. I am not certain what the compass is. But if it is known where the man is, a single rider might be dispatched. If his lordship knows not, then he will often consult his magician—or hire one—to discover the location. If that is not possible, then many riders may be sent, or another magician may be sent for to aid in the divinations.”
“So how is Duke Andalon looking for me?” I inquired.
“I understand he has sent riders out to leave word in every town and hamlet through which they pass.”
“How will he know I got the invitation?”
“You will respond to it, of course. He is a Duke; you are a knight. You must accept.”
My eyebrows rose. “I must?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
Meryth seemed to be momentarily at a loss for words. “Because… because it is so. He is a Duke.”
“So it isn’t an invitation—more of a command performance.”
“I suppose one might view it so,” he said, slowly. “It is also an honor,” he pointed out.
I sighed. Well, I could ignore it for a while. But this business of the higher-ranking clergy dying in a way that pointed straight back at me… I wonder just how much influence the Devourer has on Tobias. I think It isn’t trying too hard to find me and report me. It needs an excuse for Tobias to keep coming back and keep using black magic to “cleanse” the world. I would be willing to bet the idea to advance by assassination wasn’t Tobias’, either.
“All right. Thanks. Anything else I should know, or that I can do for you?”
“Actually…”
Crap.
“… yes, if you would,” he finished.
“What is it?” I tried not to sound tired.
“This matter with the Church,” he went on. “If Tobias attains the Patriarch’s Seat, then the world may have something more to fear than one reasonable nightlord abroad.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He has dismissed his magicians from the employ of the Hand. Many of us feel that this is because he has come to fear and distrust us.”
“Ah. And if he hunts nightlords to extinction—again—he may decide that magicians and wizards—being naughty, demon-invoking sorcerers in disguise—may need a good flaying and burning?”
Meryth winced. “If you wish to phrase it so. Yes.”
“You know, I was looking forward to settling down in a nice manor, tilling a few fields, and watching an orchard grow.”
“I am sorry the world does not conform with your plans, sir,” he replied, voice a trifle frosty.
“So am I,” I sighed. “All right. Where is Tobias staying, these days? Telen? Carrillon?”
“Carrillon.”
“Fine. I’ll want someone to meet me there and show me around. Can you arrange that?”
“Of course. Do you plan to kill him?”
“That’s what you’re leading up to, isn’t it? That’s what you want?” I asked. I met his eyes, held them, and he dropped his gaze.
“Yes,” he admitted, quietly.
“It’s possible. I don’t even know the man, and I hate cold-blooded murder. We’ll save that as a last resort,” I told him. “I don’t know when I’ll be in town. It may be sooner or later than a month, but not by too much; I have arrangements to make. I’ll go there and we can discuss what to do and how to go about it. Fair?”
Suddenly, Sasha’s death seems very real and very recent. Not only does Tobias owe me on that score, but I also have a preemptive reason to see to it he doesn’t repeat the offense. I won’t have Tamara killed because of one man’s obsession.
It looks like Hell will soon be demanding its paycheck. Is it also my job to be a bill collector?
Meryth nodded. “Eminently fair. When you arrive in Carrillon, stay at the Inn of the Golden Horn. I will see to it that you are met.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“That is all I am bid to discuss with you. I do have some personal matters.”
I nudged Bronze into a slightly faster walk. “Shoot.”
“I have great respect for the sheer power of your spells. May I inquire as to your technique?”
“I drink a lot.”
He paled. “I—” he began, then swallowed heavily. “I take it to mean that you drink, ah…”
“People,” I supplied. “I try to stick to people who want to die. And goblins and orcs. But I won’t scorn to gulp down people who are trying to kill me. It implies they want to die, so I oblige.”
“Ah. Yes. I can see that,” he agreed. “But does not this… drinking… is it not a dark thing, taking lives to make magic?”
“I guess it is. I
do it because I feed on it, not because I want power. It’s a survival issue,” I explained. “I know there’s some sort of law against sacrificing things for spells.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I think it may have its roots in your kind.”
“Could be. If I get out of hand, be sure to let me know, okay?”
He chuckled. “I will make every effort. Yet, given your nature, I cannot see that it will corrupt you greatly. And you do make good choices in your victims; few orku are truly civilized.”
“There was also a dragon,” I added. “That wasn’t pleasant.”
“You—” he choked. “You drank a dragon?”
“Most of it.” Why bother to tell him I couldn’t hold it?
“By the Sacred Sisters! What did you do with all that power?” he demanded.
“That’s a secret.” I smiled at him. “I put it to good use, though.”
We rode in silence while he contemplated and fidgeted.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Is there anything you would have of me before I go?”
“How many magicians do you have on your side?” I asked. “I mean, willing to cast spells, sneak around, and actually throw down with balls of fire and bolts of lightning.”
He pursed his lips, thinking. “There are perhaps a dozen who would openly defy—even attack—the Church of the Light. Twice that number would surely give hidden aid. Most magicians care not overmuch for anything that might happen beyond their own laboratories.”
“Good to know. How many magicians are there, anyway? Total.”
“It is difficult to say; some are no longer in this world, others may be dead. The Academy graduates and certifies perhaps a half-dozen every year. Two hundred living magicians? Perhaps three, if one were to search the hidden places of the world.”
“But more wizards,” I noted.
He shrugged. “Wizards are easily made; they have talent and some training. A magician is a master at his craft. Few have both the talent to work deeply with magic, the mind to understand the construction of spells, and the will to master the discipline of power—and each of the three qualities is vital.”
“I’ve never studied to be a magician. I’m not qualified to judge. Okay. Thanks.”
“Then I will go make arrangements. Good day to you, sir.”
“And to you.”
He reined up, turned around, and headed back to the village at a trot. I caught up to the wagon train quickly and called both Raeth and Bouger in to see Tamara with me. Once we were settled into the command wagon, I explained what was discussed and asked for their opinions. Tamara and Raeth were silent; Bouger spoke right up.
“When do we leave?” he asked. “If this clerical bastard is clawing his way to the top with demonic help, he deserves to be dead. I have a sword I’ll put in his guts.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” I replied, smiling. “I don’t think that’s going to be the answer, though. If anybody’s going to kill him, I think it almost has to be me.”
“If you say, so, lord. But must you keep all the fun for yourself?”
“Personal privilege. He’s tried to kill me off and on for a while now.”
“Oh, all right,” he huffed.
I turned to Raeth. “Your thoughts on this?”
“Lord,” he began, formally, “I do not think it will be as easy as you hope.”
“Neither do I.”
“I fear he may be expecting an assassin.”
“He’s killing people right and left, I gather. So yes, he’s probably on the lookout for someone after him.”
“He also has demonic servants, although their servitude is indirect. How much faith may we place in your dreams of these things?”
I was on sticky ground now. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think we can assume I wouldn’t dream of such things normally. I think that either I’m much more sensitive to such creatures than I like, or the big, nasty one wants me to know about it. I don’t know.”
“Why might it desire your awareness of events?”
“That’s easier. I can think of a couple of ideas. First, it’s using Tobias. Tobias will be a pawn for this thing as long as Tobias thinks he is making progress toward hunting me down. I get the impression that Tobias is all sorts of crazy about hunting down nightlords.”
Bouger snorted a sharp laugh. “All the Hand is so.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Not happy with just kicking all the vampires out of this kingdom and then hunting them down in all the others, they go actively seeking them out in other worlds!”
Raeth frowned. “Lord, I do not believe that you quite understand.”
“Can the ‘lordship,’ Raeth. This is an informal council; my friends are helping me figure out what to do. Now, what are you talking about?”
He smiled at me. “Okay, Halar. You do not understand how long ago the nightlords were hunted. The whole world was unified in a single empire; the Church of Light was the cement that held the various stones of that edifice together. When it fragmented from internal schism—the Lords of Light and the Ladies of Flame—so did the empire. Now we have remnants of their former glory in the Church of Light as we know it today. And in your lady, here; she is the last of the priestesses, last Lady of Flame.”
Tamara shook her head. “I may be the last, but I am no more of that false sect than you. I am a fire-witch, named so by others, but all my kind since that schism have taken the title willingly. We are priestesses of the Mother of Flame. Her power moves through us directly, without the need for ritual prayer or spoken spells. We are god-touched… or, rather, I am.” She laid one hand on her belly. “If She is willing, I will not be the only one for long.”
“As you say,” Raeth agreed. “It was long held that the schism in the elder days was from corruption within the Church. Some say the priests were corrupted by the Darkness and made jealous of the priestess’ brighter blessings. Others say the priestesses sought to gather all the power to themselves. Whatever the truth of it, without the nightlords to give the Church an external enemy, it succumbed to the internal ones: Greed, envy, jealousy, and spite.”
“Right,” said I. “Very interesting. But let us return to our muttons. I want help persuading myself to kill the man in cold blood. Murder him for personal reasons. It’s one thing when I’m defending myself in a fight; it’s emotional. I’m considering rational, premeditated murder—and that’s not an easy thing for me.”
Raeth looked pained. “Halar, I believe the history of the Church is relevant.”
“How so?”
“The schism that divided the Church of Light could not have happened if the faith behind the Church was pure. To be divided, there had to be another influence besides that of the Lady—or the Lord, if one assumes the present sect is correct.”
“Reasonable,” I agreed.
“A year ago, I would never have considered this, but recently,” he glanced at Tamara, “I have come to a new appreciation of the Mother,” he looked at me, “and a greater understanding of magic. I no longer believe the Church—as it now exists—is truly a religion.”
Everyone looked at him. He continued, unperturbed.
“I have seen priests at prayer and performing the rituals of their profession. As a wizard, I can appreciate the art of a spell—now that I know what one looks like. Their prayers are nothing like the invocation of your lady, here. The priests use spells, not prayer. They are like magicians in that they have spells they memorize, rather than an understanding of the principles behind them. They memorize prayers because they are pleasing to their god—and because they work. They do not know why, other than ‘Our god likes to hear these words.’ They have faith in magical symbols they do not understand.”
I nodded, remembering. “I remember when I busted into the church in Baret. A high Church investigator de-magicked a pair of swords I’d heated up. It struck me that the prayer looked more like a spell than the intervention of a deity. I never thought about it again; I was busy.”<
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I also recalled a vision I’d seen through a crystal. Tobias and the statue of his god, with darkness creeping up and engulfing the statue. I was about to mention it when Raeth continued.
“Indeed. What I now think is that the Church of Light is what remains after a dark manipulation to fragment and destroy the worship of the Flame. One, I fear, which has very nearly succeeded.” He nodded to Tamara. “She is the last fire-witch. Is that not so, Tamara?”
“For now,” she answered.
“Halar—my lord, my friend—there is more at stake here than a bit of vengeance for your first wife. There is a war going on between the Light and the Dark—and the Light is losing. Can you truly leave Tamara for no better reason than to go into the stronghold of evil, especially when your cause is one unlikely to be regarded as holy or good?”
Damn, thought I. He’s not helping me with my misgivings on murder.
“All right, you have a point. But if we have to ask how much to trust my dreams, we have to ask how much of what you just spouted is speculation.”
Raeth sighed. “And I must, in all honesty, admit that almost all of it is. But it is logical and without perceptible flaw; it explains much that would otherwise be considered a mystery.”
“True. But we can’t prove it.”
“We cannot.”
“There’s another reason that my little trip to visit Tobias is necessary. Three, in fact.”
Raeth looked thoughtful. “All right. May I ask?”
“Of course.” I pointed at Tamara.
There was a thick silence.
“You said there were three reasons—” Bouger began, then stopped. “Oh.”
“What happens when Tobias gets the power he’s after?” I asked. “Or, rather, has all the power the Devourer wants him to have? Will his sit back and lord it over the kingdom?”
“Yes,” Bouger answered, looking glum.
“At first,” Raeth added. “He must then consolidate his power.” Raeth looked even more glum. “He shall then spread a holy war across the length and breadth of the world, taking all under the rule of the Church once more—and his rule.”
I nodded. “I see that. Do you think he’ll forget about me in the meantime?” Nobody answered. “I don’t. I think he’ll try and pound me flat with all the might at his command—and that will be considerable, by that point. Worse, the Devourer won’t have any need to keep me around. If I were the demon doing the influencing, I’d be plugging away at Tobias on the idea of reuniting the world in the true faith. He obviously feels the ends justify the means. Why stop with just a few deaths—and mine? Oh, and let’s clean out these heretic fire-witches while we’re at it. What? Two of them are little baby girls? Too bad! Someone fetch me a sword!”