by Tanya Huff
As it was, the boots went only another seven paces forward then stopped at a low coral wall. The air crackled, and the lizard dove deeper under cover. Over countless generations, lizards living on the headland had learned that magic meant trouble, and this particular lizard had no intention of getting involved.
Edges wavering under brilliant sunlight, a gate appeared in the coral wall. Less than a heartbeat later, the wall was whole again. For some moments, the gate appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared – in the end, the wall remained whole. Not even a well-placed kick had any effect, although certain vehemently expressed profanities adding heat to the already tropical temperatures suggested that the wall had won that round as well.
At four feet high, it should have been easy enough to go over. It wasn't. Finally, the boots stomped back down the path, turned, and pounded towards the wall at full speed.
* * * *
"He's going to hurt himself, Mistress."
"You're probably right, Kali," Magdelene admitted around a piece of papaya. She leaned one elbow on the wide stone sill of the kitchen window and sighed. Watching the intruder had been an amusing way to pass an afternoon too hot for physical activity, but his repeated failures were becoming embarrassing. "Well, I suppose as he wants to come in so badly, I'd better go out and talk to him." Popping the last bit of fruit into her mouth, she straightened.
"Shall I serve chilled juices in the garden?"
Magdelene shook her head. "Better make it something stronger," she advised. "He looks like he could use a drink."
* * * *
The coral wall loomed closer, closer... Micholai put out one hand, stiff-armed himself into the air, and landed on his side with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs – a gate having just appeared under the point he was attempting to vault.
Gasping, he rolled over onto his back and squinted up at a pair of tanned legs exposed to an immodest height. Above the legs, a turquoise shift covered full curves, and above that grey eyes peered down at him from under a thick mass of chestnut hair. Her nose appeared to be slightly sunburned. When he recognized her expression as barely suppressed amusement, he scrambled indignantly to his feet.
"My name," he said, attempting to dislodge a fine coating of sand from the surface of his black wool robe, "is Lord Wizard Micholai, and I wish to speak with Magdelene, the one they call the most powerful wizard in the world." His tone clearly indicated that whoever they were, he didn't believe them. "You may take me to her."
Thick lashes lowered against the sun, the woman looked him up and down and smiled. "You're already talking to her," she told him.
He managed a strangled, "You?"
Her smile broadened. The alleged most powerful wizard in the world had a bit of fruit caught between two teeth.
* * * *
"You know, Micholai, you'd be a lot more comfortable if you took off that robe."
Micholai clutched the robe more tightly around him as he sat – with some difficulty – on the low, deep seat of a cane chair. He wasn't entirely certain why he'd agreed to join her for drinks in the garden, or even if he actually had. "This robe," he declared, indignantly, "identifies me as a wizard."
"True enough," Magdelene acknowledged, sitting down across from him and picking up a large palm-frond fan. "But as I know you're a wizard and you know you're a wizard, don't you think it's rather unnecessary?"
"No!"
"Suit yourself." She leaned back and flapped the fan.
Micholai blinked sweat out of his eyes and tried not to lean towards the cool breeze the fan created.
An avid observer of young men, Magdelene placed Micholai's age somewhere between twenty and thirty. Closer to thirty. At the moment, he wasn't looking his best. His brown hair lay limp and matted with sweat, his nose and cheeks were peeling, and his slightly bloodshot brown eyes darted back and forth between gritty lashes – searching, Magdelene deduced with some amusement, for an escape route. As she couldn't get him out of it, she had to assume the robe covered all the usual bits in the correct proportion.
She wondered if the self-important, stiff-necked attitude that made him refuse to relax was a result of his mission, his age, or an innate part of his character. Reaching across the tiny patio, she pushed at his knee with one bare foot. "Calm down. I don't bite."
"That, Mistress, is not entirely accurate." Kali set a tray holding two frosted glasses and a pitcher of liquid down on a three-legged table.
Micholai paled as the green-skinned, ivory-horned demon stretched out a taloned hand and offered him a drink. "It's true," he gulped. "You... you're served by a demon!"
"Who is currently trying to serve you," Magdelene pointed out. "Take the glass and say thank you."
Fingers shaking only slightly less than his voice, he did as he was told.
"You're welcome," Kali told him. She handed Magdelene the second glass. "Will we be having him for supper?" she asked, her expression unreadable.
Micholai choked.
Magdelene sighed. "If you mean will he be staying for supper, I think so. You'll have to excuse my housekeeper," she continued as Kali returned to the kitchen. "Her command of human language is a tad idiosyncratic. Now, then," she took a long swallow and sat back contentedly, "you've told me your name but not why you're here."
Suddenly recalled to his duties, Micholai wiped his chin and squared his shoulders. "I," he declared, "represent THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS."
"The what?"
"THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS."
Magdelene scratched at the back of her right calf with the toes of her left foot and frowned. "Never heard of them," she said at last.
"But..."
"Look, Micholai, why don't you just relax, take off your robe..."
"I am not taking off my robe!"
"All right, all right, keep it on." With as minimal an effort as she could manage, she pushed her hair back off her face. "But start at the beginning. Who or what is the Council of Wizards?"
Micholai took a deep breath and a long drink, only barely managing to keep them separate. This was not how he'd imagined this confrontation, but the debacle at the gate had shaken his confidence, and the wizard he'd come to confront was not like any wizard he'd ever imagined. Take control from the beginning, the council had said. Sure, easy for them to say. They weren't being watched as though they were some new and not very interesting form of entertainment. "THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS..." He felt blood rising up under the sunburn on his cheeks and began again. "The, uh, Council of Wizards is made up of the five most powerful wizards in the world..."
Magdelene's brows nearly touched her hairline.
"...and, well, they run things."
"What sort of things?"
"Wizard things."
"Ah. And why haven't I ever heard of them?"
"They tried to contact you." His voice picked up a decidedly defensive tone. "But they couldn't raise your crystal..."
"Don't have one."
Micholai's eyes widened, and one hand rose to cup his own crystal protectively. It had been the greatest day of his life when, after years of apprenticeship, he'd been presented by the council with the badge of his accomplishment. "But all wizards wear a crystal."
She stretched, sweat-damp skin pressing against the thin cotton shift and sticking. "I don't."
As it was very obvious that she didn't, Micholai wet his lips and continued. "They tried to break into your scrying, but you flung their power back at them with so much force that it knocked the Lady Wizard Gillian off her stool."
"Not that I noticed, but it serves her right. Was she hurt?"
"She was very embarrassed." Micholai's lips twitched into an involuntary smile as he remembered how Lady Wizard Gillian had bounced back onto the floor, robe flapping, crystal swinging, perpetually sour expression overlaid with indignant disbelief. When he saw Magdelene sharing the smile, he forced himself to frown. "A wizard's dignity is not to be trifled with."
Magdelene's smile broadened. "That so
unds like a quote."
His traitorous lips began to curve again. "Yes, well. Anyway, as conventional methods appeared to be of no use, the council sent me to contact you."
"And are you a member of the council?"
"No. That is, not yet."
Magdelene let that lie.
"A number of wizards work with the council. And they have a large training centre."
"I see. And what does the Council of Wizards want?"
"You're to appear before them for a disciplinary hearing."
She blinked. "For a what now?"
"A disciplinary hearing." He pulled at the collar of his robe. "I was instructed to tell you that if you don't come with me, action will be taken."
"Action? Never mind." A lazy wave cut off his explanation. "So, where do they want you to take me?"
"They have a stronghold high in the Kurel Mountains."
"The Kurel Mountains..." Place names had changed more than once since Magdelene had settled in the south. "Isn't it late spring there now? With soft breezes and new grass and wild flowers?" She sighed and rubbed absently at a puddle of sweat caught in the crook of her elbow. "I think I'd like to see spring again. We'll leave tomorrow."
It had gone much better than Micholai had thought it would during his assault on the gate. "Fine. Tomorrow." He stood, ignoring protests from various parts of his body.
Magdelene stood as well. "And for now, I'll have Kali run you a nice cool bath. While you're in it, she can clean your clothes – including that robe you're so attached to. Then we'll sit down to a heaping platter of shrimp with a nice salad on the side... What's the matter?" His shoulder was rigid under her hand.
"I can't..."
"Nonsense. You can so. Unless you'd rather sleep outside the gate in case I attempt to escape?"
He'd intended on doing exactly that. Somehow it seemed a little silly.
"Wouldn't you rather be comfortable and well fed? Of course you would." She steered him, unsure but unprotesting towards the house.
For the first time in his life, Micholai wondered if the Council of Wizards knew just what they were getting into.
* * * *
"A Council of Wizards, Kali. Can you believe it? What's next?"
"Breakfast." The demon set a plate of fresh bran muffins on the table.
Magdelene shook her head as she spread the butter. "All tucked neatly into one place..."
"Perhaps they are not aware of the danger."
"Well, they're going to be."
Sometime later, Magdelene stared at the younger wizard in irritation. Bathed, fed, and rested, he was actually quite attractive. Unfortunately, his appearance had nothing to do with her mood. "What do you mean you can't just transport us? You've been there. Don't you know the spell?"
"Yes, but..."
"If you need more power, I can supply it."
"No, it's just..."
"Don't try to tell me I've got to spend an uncomfortable amount of time travelling, because I won't do it."
"It's more complicated than that..."
"If I'm putting myself out to do something for somebody," Magdelene muttered, "I don't like being inconvenienced."
Behind her, at the sink, Kali rolled her eyes,
"It's nothing personal!" Micholai protested, once again on the defensive. "No one can transport directly to the stronghold. The council has wrapped the area in spells so strong that the closest anyone can arrive is five days out."
"Why?"
"Demons." Shooting a nervous look at Kali's back, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The spell leaves too obvious a signature. The council is afraid demons will track it and mass for an attack, wiping out the cream of wizardry in one battle."
Magdelene snorted. "Leaving aside, for the moment, your rather loose definition of the cream of wizardry, hasn't it occurred to your council that the stronghold itself is probably leaving enough of a signature to attract some attention?"
"They've taken care of that."
"How? With more spells?" She shifted her small travelling bag from her right hand to her left and sighed. "Well, I'm packed, I'm dressed, I suppose I can find some way to survive five days on the road. Where can you transport us to?"
"Sherilac. It's a trading city where the Lea joins the Kan."
The names of what were probably rivers meant nothing to her. "It's been a long time since I was in a city of any size," Magdelene mused thoughtfully.
Kali made choking noises, which Magdelene chose to ignore.
"Do you prefer to begin your transport spell outside or in?" she asked.
"Uh, outside."
When Micholai moved to follow her out the kitchen door, the demon's voice brought him up short.
"Lord Wizard."
Preening a little at the honorific, he turned.
"A word of advice, Lord Wizard." Kali jerked her horns in the direction her mistress had taken. "When you get to the city, keep her moving."
Micholai frowned. "Keep her moving?"
The demon nodded. "It's safer," she said.
* * * *
"'Tis a wizard!"
The town had appeared nearly deserted until, on a street by the harbour, an old man had recognized Micholai and sent up the call.
Micholai inclined his head graciously as people began to gather. "It's the robe," he told Magdelene smugly, raised a near-regal hand in salute, and added, "If you wore a robe, I'm sure they'd be this excited to see you."
Magdelene, who had forgotten that spring could mean grey and glowering skies, cold winds, and drizzle just as easily as gentle breezes and flowers, growled inarticulately. The growl became a pained grunt as a stout shopkeeper, his fine clothes soaked with dirty water, drove a beefy elbow into her side while attempting to shove her out of his way. Said shopkeeper found himself suddenly some distance outside the city gates wearing only his boots. Magdelene hated being cold, she really hated being cold and wet, and considering how she felt about being cold, wet, and bruised, she figured he could consider himself lucky she'd left him the boots.
She frowned as word continued to spread and more and more people scurried up from the waterfront. Although Micholai apparently accepted the crowd as his wizardly due, growing increasingly full of himself with every cheer, Magdelene rather suspected there was more to it. When the mass of townsfolk up ahead parted to allow an official delegation through, she jabbed her companion sharply in the ribs. "Looks like they're about to hand you the key to the city."
"Wizards," Micholai informed her down the length of his nose, "are highly thought of around here."
"So are ratcatchers," Magdelene pointed out tartly. "But there's a reason for that."
"Lord Wizard, thank Kelptro you've come in time." The mayor, his chain of office thrown on over a mud-stained jerkin, grabbed Micholai by the shoulder and dragged him forward. "We've got to hurry. The water's almost here!"
"I should think you've got quite enough of that already," Magdelene muttered, pushing damp hair back off her face.
The mayor ignored her, propelling Micholai over rain-slicked cobblestones toward the harbour. "It's been weeks since we sent the messenger up the mountain. We were afraid no one was going to come."
"But," Micholai protested, trying unsuccessfully to free his robe from the larger man's grip.
The mayor ignored him, too. "The sandbags are only just containing the flooding. If you hadn't come we'd have lost half the town."
"But..."
"We've done what we can, Lord Wizard. Now, it's up to you."
"But..."
"Fall back! Fall back! Give the Lord Wizard room to work!"
"Now you say but again," Magdelene prompted as Micholai stared in silent horror down the length of the harbour breakwater. Wet and exhausted townspeople scrambled past them to the relative safety of the shore and stood waiting expectantly.
Micholai shot her a panicked glance and cleared his throat. "Just, uh, what exactly is the problem?"
"The Lea's flooded," the may
or explained. "Mudslide upriver held most of the spring runoff. Kelptro-cursed thing cleared this morning. When it gets here..." Both hands graphically illustrated what the town could expect. "...we go with it."
"And you want me to... uh..."
Magdelene rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she suggested.
"That's right." The mayor looked at her for the first time. "Who are you?"
She gave him her second best smile. "I'm with the wizard."
A moment later, they were picking their way carefully along the top of the breakwater. The river water swirled brown and angry against the sandbags, surging over them in a number of places, forcing its way through in others.
"I can't do this," Micholai protested, unable to stop moving because of the firm pressure of Magdelene's hand between his shoulder blades. "Anything of this magnitude has to be cleared with the Council of Wizards."
"Sounds like they tried that."
"There are rules!"
"Break them."
"Wizards are not permitted to use their power to interfere in the lives of those who have no power."
"That's a stupid rule."
"We can't always be taking care of them. They've got to take care of themselves."
"They tried. They can't do anything about this."
He pulled away from her hand and turned to face her. "So then..."
"They die."
"No."
"That's what your rules say."
Micholai squinted past her to the townspeople grouped expectantly on the shore. He groped for his crystal. "Power without structure is chaos."
Magdelene grabbed him by the front of his robe and shoved him around to face upstream. "Structure without flexibility is bullshit," she yelled as the muted snarl of the river grew suddenly louder. "And you've just run out of time."
Sweeping up everything it passed, a seething wall of water roared towards them. Then it was closer to them than they were to shore.
"Raise your arm!"
"What?"
She grabbed his wrist and threw his arm into the air. The wall of water leapt up with it, curving over the harbour, over the docks, over the heads of the crowd. Huge trees, boulders torn from the mountain, the shattered remains of buildings ripped off their foundations twisted and spun in the muddy arch. The noise was nearly deafening. Magdelene stuck her fingers in her ears.