by Clare Smith
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Maze
The building had burnt to the ground and all that remained was a large square of blackened stone and a few charred timbers. A rough lean-to shelter had been built, propped up against one of the crumbling stone walls to keep the horses out of the rain, but the only other dwellings were a row of weather-beaten tents. The four border guards stood around a small spluttering fire looking miserable in the afternoon downpour. Jonderill smiled to himself in satisfaction. The last time he had ridden this way the guards had lived in comfort in the stone store house and he had been robbed and held a prisoner in the adjoining log store waiting to be hung as a horse thief. Perhaps there was some justice in the world after all.
Of course he had been a different person then, a lone rider with no experience of the road or the ways of corrupt border guards. He had been an easy target and the border guards had taken advantage of his naivety. Now he was different, now he was a magician, all be it not a very good one, but powerful enough not to be taken captive and robbed by four wet and dispirited guards. The other difference was that he was not alone; with another white robe and two protectors at his side nobody would dare challenge his right to pass over the bridge and into Northshield. As he passed by their guard post he looked to see if he recognised any of them, but they were different from the guards that had beaten him and threatened to hang him from the bridge.
Tissian rode up beside him and leant over with a look of mischief on his face. “Do you want me to kill them for you?”
Jonderill laughed. “No, these aren’t the ones, and anyway, death would probably be a happy release from having to live in a leaky tent and stand guard over a bridge all day long.”
They clattered over the bridge and Tissian dropped back to ride with Allowyn, allowing Callabris to ride up next to Jonderill. He looked different with the hood of his robe pulled well over his head to keep him dry, more sinister and less benign.
“Are you pleased to be going home?” asked Jonderill, more to break the monotony of the journey than any real interest.
“I shall be pleased to get out of this rain and off this wretched horse, and I shall be happy not to have to sleep on the ground or in some flea infested inn, but Northshield is not my home.”
“I thought King Borman was your master?”
“Regretfully he is.”
Jonderill looked surprised at the response. Callabris sighed and pushed back his hood so he could talk more easily to the young magician who still had so much to learn about being a white robe.
“A magician has to have a king or queen to support them, provide for their needs and protect them from rivals, whether they are other magicians or other monarchs. In return the magician serves the king and calls him master. Don’t be mistaken, Jonderill, this is not a master servant relationship or the sort of relationship that you have with your protector. This is a joining of convenience by which both the king and the magician benefits. Sometimes, if you are lucky, the relationship will develop into mutual respect and even friendship, such as the relationship I had with King Hormand of Tarbis before he was murdered. Other times it is based on balancing power; such is my relationship with Borman. He needs my power and I need his patronage, but that does not make Northshield my home or me pleased to be returning there.”
“I see, or at least I think I do. So if Northshield isn’t your home, where is?”
Callabris thought about the question for a moment. “Where is your home Jonderill? Is it where you were born or where you have lived most of your life or where your loved ones are?”
Jonderill considered the question for a long time, their horses walking steadily along the well ridden road with the sounds of Allowyn instructing Tissian like an echo behind him. At last he shrugged.
“I don’t think I have a home.”
“That’s the way it is with our kind.”
“What about King Borman, what kind of man is he?”
“King Borman is like all kings, he expects to get his own way all the time. Some kings get their own way through the love and loyalty of their people, others through the divine right of kingship. Borman is different. He gets what he wants through a mixture of charm, guile and ruthlessness. He is easy to serve but a hard man to cross.”
They continued in silence and Jonderill thought about what Callabris had said whilst the rain turned to a misty drizzle as the evening sun set. It was Dozo, clattering up beside him in a long waxed cape and pulling a heavily laden pack horse, who interrupted his sombre thoughts.
“My Lords, Master Allowyn says there is a way house up ahead and suggests that we rest for the night and complete our journey in the morning.
“What do you think, Jonderill?” asked Callabris.
Jonderill wiped the rain from his face and gave them all a quick look over. “I think it would be better if we were to arrive at the king’s court the image of powerful magicians rather than looking like a pack of half drowned peasants, don’t you?”
Callabris laughed. “You learn quickly young man. Dozo, you and Tissian go on ahead and get things ready. We will be with you before dark.”
*
The last time he had entered the gates of Wallmore the city guard had taken his coin and had thrown him out. Now the guards held back the wagon drivers, farmers and traders, who were trying to enter the city, and bowed as he passed. They weren’t the only ones who bowed. As they rode along the city streets towards the palace, everyone bowed, some even went to their knees. It was like he was a king and he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the attention, although he suspected that most people were bowing to Callabris rather than to him. They were a very impressive group with the two magicians in their pristine white robes, and the two protectors in full armour and weapon array. Dozo had done an excellent job of cleaning them all up after the wet and muddy journey over the Deeling Pass and through the borderlands of Northshield.
On his last visit Jonderill had only seen the area just inside the main gate before he was roughly ejected, but now that he was at the centre of the city, he was impressed by what he saw. Wallmore had a high city wall, similar to that which surrounded Tarmin, but inside the wall the city was much more like Alewinder, with broad, well proportioned streets and fine houses. He knew that somewhere on the edges of the city there would be the usual slums where the poor lived, every city had those, but in the centre of the city there were no poor to be seen and no beggars either. Whilst it made the city look prosperous, he knew what King Borman did with the poor.
The palace stood on a slight rise surrounded at the front by a tall metal fence with guard posts every twenty paces or so. It wasn’t a bit like Tarmin’s austere fortress or Alewinder’s elegant sprawl of towers and spires, but more like a very large elegant house, similar to those which stood close by, only much bigger. Callabris had told him that the appearance of the palace was deceptive; as were many things in Northshield, and that the palace stretched a long way back, making it the largest royal dwelling in the six kingdoms. He had also told Jonderill about the maze which had been built at the rear of the palace and covered an area of land almost as big as the palace itself. He couldn’t wait to see it.
As they approached the palace up a road of black and white chequered cobbles, a squad of guards marched from one of the palace’s side doors, so that when they arrived at the open gates they had a guard of honour to direct them to the main entrance. Callabris looked annoyed; he had hoped that they would have had the chance to settle in before they were summoned to the king’s presence, but it would seem that King Borman was impatient to see them. They dismounted and the squad leader escorted them up the steps into the palace, leaving Dozo outside to see to the horses and their possessions.
The inside of the palace was just what Jonderill was expecting; long corridors, grand stairs, rows of doors and then more corridors, stairs and doors. Tapestries of hunting scenes and huge paintings of battles adorned the walls, and every so often, the
re was an alcove with the carved head and shoulders of a man perched on a stone pedestal. After he had passed the fourth one, Jonderill realised all the carvings were of the same man, probably Borman, but with slightly different expressions on their faces. What did take Jonderill by surprise was the activity inside the palace, which reminded him of a wood crawler’s nest which had been poked with a stick.
He guessed they must have walked the entire length of the palace before their escort came to a halt outside a door decorated with a royal crest embossed in gold and guarded by two of the biggest men Jonderill had ever seen. Callabris gave them a brief nod of acknowledgement and one of them knocked on the door, opened it and stepped back to let them through. Jonderill stood by Callabris’s side, but half a pace behind, and was grateful they had rehearsed this the previous evening whilst drying out in the way house. As the king stepped forward he and Callabris bowed, whilst behind them, the two protectors stood at the alert; protectors never bowed except to their masters.
“Callabris, it’s good to have you back, I have missed your presence and wise council.” He looked genuinely pleased to see the white robe, but quickly moved his attention to Jonderill. “And who have we here?”
“My Lord, this is Jonderill of whom I have spoken in the past. He is newly come into his powers and has been travelling with me. He seeks your protection until such time as a royal master claims him.”
Borman gave Jonderill an astute appraisal. “Jonderill, you are welcome to Northshield and my house and I will be pleased to accommodate you and your protector for as long as you wish to stay.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“For now you must excuse us, I have many things to discuss with my magician. My personal guard will escort you to Callabris’s apartments until suitable accommodation can be arranged for you close to his.”
Jonderill bowed and reluctantly left, disappointed not to be included in the king’s discussions with Callabris. Borman paced the room until the door had been closed behind them and then suddenly turned to his white robe
“Well, Callabris, is he who you had hoped him to be?”
“I don’t know, My Lord. He has no memories of his father, except that he was called Jonderill. I do not believe it could have been my brother’s protector as it is most unusual for a protector to take a wife and unheard of for them to have children.”
“Not unlike a magician then. What of his powers?”
“They are still developing. I believe he has the potential to be very powerful indeed, but as yet, his magic is erratic and unpredictable.”
“Explosive?”
“On occasions but his powers are not as destructive as Coberin’s powers were.”
Borman sighed in frustration. “I need to know and I’m disappointed in you Callabris that you have not found out for certain who he is yet. If he is dangerous he will have to be constrained. I expect you to find out quickly, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Borman smiled and patted his magician on the shoulder. “Come, my friend, take some wine with me and tell me about Tarbis.” He poured two goblets of wine and handed one to Callabris, indicating that he should take a seat.
“I have done as you requested, My Lord, and have removed Prince Newn from society and the seat of power.”
“He’s not dead is he?”
“No, you know that I’m unable to use my magic to kill, but he’s under an enchantment that has turned him into a beast, and unless someone can break the enchantment, which, I regret is most unlikely, then Prince Newn will never become king.”
“And what about the regent, will he interfere”
“I have advised him of the situation and warned him against doing anything which might upset you.”
“Good, you have done well. Now for my news, I’ve been busy whilst you have been away and other plans have come to fruition. I expect you know by now that King Sarrat is dead at the hands of Maladran the black, but with some small assistance from me. In his place Leersland have found themselves a queen; a slip of a girl with no control over her emotions who has run off to help a friend and has left the throne in the hands of my Captain Malingar. My southern army is already deployed around Tarmin, and Rastor waits with my northern army on the estate of Great Lord Andron. I have only been waiting for you to arrive before moving into Leersland and taking its throne for myself.”
“That’s truly amazing Your Majesty, conquest without bloodshed.”
“Well, without too much bloodshed. I ride to Tarmin before the end of this moon cycle and I want you and Jonderill at my side.”
“I am honoured Your Majesty, but that may be difficult.”
Borman glared at his magician. “Do not gainsay me, white robe. When I ride into Tarmin you and Jonderill will be at my side.”
Callabris bowed his head in apology. “Your pardon My Lord, but I had hoped to spend some time with Jonderill, teaching him the basics of my craft and giving him more time in your presence so he could learn how best to serve you before we travelled again.”
“Admirable intentions, and I will give you ten days, after which you’ll both accompany me. Jonderill will just have to learn his lessons in the saddle.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Callabris replaced his untouched goblet of wine on the table by his chair and stood. “If you will excuse me Your Majesty, the time available is short and I have much to do.”
He gave a cursory bow and left with his protector following behind. Borman watched them go and smiled to himself. Soon he would do what no other king in the six kingdoms had ever done; rule two kingdoms, so having two magicians was only his right. When Northshield and Leersland were successfully joined as one kingdom he might consider having just the one magician, perhaps someone young and loyal to him alone and without Callabris’s old fashioned and outdated sense of morality.
*
“Why. Can. I. Not. Do. This?” snarled Jonderill in frustration, smashing his hand down and squashing the wine berry into the table. The other deep purple stains showed where he had tried to move other wine berries and they had met a similar fate. Tissian looked up in sympathy from the knife handle he was rebinding and waited to see if his master would say anything else.
“It’s so damn frustrating!” Jonderill stalked to the nearby dresser and poured himself a goblet of wine. He took one sip, grimaced at the bitter taste and put the goblet down heavily again.
“Perhaps you are tired, Lord. It was nearly sunrise before you retired last night and that’s a third night in a row.”
“So what! You don’t have to trail after me like a hound when I attend the king’s receptions. No one’s going to pull a knife on me in there are they?”
He took another sip of wine and pushed his fingers through his uncombed hair. “I’m sorry, Tissian, that was uncalled for. It’s just that when I go to these things and start mixing with the royal court, I lose track of time and I only have a little time to learn all I need to know about being amongst the rich and powerful.” He smiled and chuckled to himself. “Did you see the look on Callabris’s face when I took his seat next to the king and he was relegated to the lower benches?”
“No, Lord, but I saw the look Allowyn gave you for your discourtesy to his master.”
“Sod Allowyn. You protectors don’t understand what it’s like to be important and to be the king’s favourite.” Tissian said nothing but returned to his task whilst Jonderill returned to put another wine berry on the table. “When we ride in two day’s time the king has asked me to ride at his side so that he can introduce me to the lords who we will collect on our way. There won’t be any ladies of course, which is a pity as I do enjoy their company. Still, when we return to court, I will have plenty of time to get to know them on a personal basis. The king said he would see to it that I met all the highest ranking ladies, particularly those who aren’t married.”
Jonderill rocked back on the two rear legs of his chair with a self-satisfied look on his face. “The king sai
d that he would provide me with a place of my own so that I could entertain the best in society. I would need servants of course but the king said he’d provide me with everything I need.”
“Lord,” interrupted Tissian. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”
Jonderill thumped the chair back down onto its four legs and flicked the wine berry across the table so that it splattered against the wall leaving a red stain on the white plaster. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do; if you’re not interested in what I have to say then you can go elsewhere and play with your knife.”
Tissian sighed, picked up his things and left, After all it was just as easy to sit outside his master’s door and work as it was to sit in his room and listen to him boast. He pulled two chairs together and spread his tools out making sure that his swords were easy to draw if the need arose. This was a side of his master he hadn’t seen before and didn’t particularly like. He wondered if Callabris had ever been like that and decided to ask Allowyn the next time he saw him. The corridor was peaceful and he had finished repairing the handle of one knife and had started on another when Callabris and Allowyn disturbed him. Tissian put his work down and stood and bowed to the white robe.