by William King
We passed into the gigantic metal and glass structure and made our way through, Mistress Iliana introducing me to every set of guards we encountered. I understood what she had said about it not being so easy to infiltrate a place like this. If these men did not know me, I would be arrested or struck down on sight. Red sat quietly on my shoulder as if he was intimidated by the sheer scale of the Glass Wing.
The place was full of suits of armour of strange, impractical design, some of them so large they looked as if they had been made for giants rather than men. They seemed too broad and squat and the metal of which they were made was bronze in colour and inlaid with elder signs. I wondered what sort of man would wear armour like this. It would completely enclose any human form and looked too solid and heavy to permit movement.
My mistress followed my gaze. “This armour belonged to the Auratheans. It was salvaged from the Graveyard of Angels and brought here.”
I gawped. I had heard of such things but never expected to look on armour worn by the angels of the Holy Sun. And yet there was something odd in the sight too. I got no feeling of holiness or sanctity from the armour. It simply looked inert. There was no real sense of age either. The material gleamed as if fresh from a blacksmith’s anvil. If it was what my mistress claimed, and I saw no reason to doubt her, it must have been thousands of years old. Indeed, it might have been forged at the creation of the world.
“The angels were not like men, were they, mistress?” I managed to spit the words out.
She glanced at one of the helmets and I noticed that it had no eyeslot. Whoever had worn it was either blind or able to see through metal. I supposed that the angels could see through whatever they wanted. “That is nothing less than the truth.”
I wanted to ask her whether these really had belonged to angels but even I knew that if anyone overheard us, it might be construed as a blasphemy as well as an aspersion on the Duke’s collection. I studied the hands of the angels. Some of them grasped things that might have been weapons or might have been tools.
One held something that looked like a great golden warhammer far too heavy for any man to lift. Another clutched a spear nearly three times as tall as I was and tipped with a crystal that reminded me of the huge glittering stones I had seen carried by the gigantic statues back at Asurean’s Gate.
One possessed a sword that looked impressive but somehow out of place. It was plated with gold and embossed with runes but it did not have the smooth, curved sleekness of the other weapons. It looked like the product of a human forge. Mistress Iliana noticed my gaze and acknowledged it with a slight shake of her head. She clearly did not want to talk about what we were seeing.
We passed into a hall where many skeletons stood in glass cases. One looked as if it belonged to a dragon. Another reminded me of the elephants Jay had once talked about. Along one wall many humanoid skeletons lined up as if on parade. The smallest was little bigger than my youngest sister Yasmin. Its skull was narrow and birdlike and it had small fangs that reminded me of something. It took me a moment to remember what.
“A goblin,” I said, recollecting the creatures I had fought as we passed through the mountains.
“Very good,” said Mistress Iliana. She pointed to a massive skeleton, with an incredibly thick skull and ribs that looked fused together in a way that reminded me of a breastplate. “That is an orc.”
“An orc, mistress.”
“A warrior race that live at the far ends of the world.” She pointed to one of the huge skeletons. “That belongs to a wyrm, one of the wingless dragons the orcs breed to carry them to war.”
“Wingless dragons?”
“Giant reptiles perhaps, like crocodiles but with longer limbs and necks. Some of them. There are smaller ones that are carnivorous and winged ones too.”
“I have never heard of such things, mistress.”
“That is unsurprising. I doubt you need worry about orcs or their pets. They dwell far away.” She was wrong about that although it took many years for me to find that out.
We reached a sealed door of glass and metal. It barred our way into a room in which tall plants reached towards the sun. A guard beckoned us through and quickly shut the door behind us. It was even warmer in this room and more humid. Fountains tinkled and water flowed. Massive blossoms rose all around us, cutting off our lines of sight.
As we walked between them, I saw pools in which water-lilies floated and large golden fish swam. Enough water had been used here to irrigate my father’s farm and then some. I thought about the amount of wealth that it had taken to create this place, the labour needed to maintain it. It was staggering.
All of that money and work maintained a space inside which very few people ventured. This was what it meant to be rich. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I realised the whole purpose of this place was to make that statement, to overawe people like me, and people considerably more powerful and wealthier. The entire palace was like that, a huge structure maintained by the taxes of a duchy, where everything orbited around one man, and I was on my way to meet him. It was not a thought to put me at my ease.
My mistress increased the length of her stride and I did the same. The sound of voices rose ahead of us. We emerged from between two enormous ferns. A group of people stood around a large fountain.
“We need to meet the threat of this necromancer now, Your Grace,” said a voice that I recognised as belonging to Father Franco. “Before more refugees flee north and fill the city beyond bursting.”
“The nobles of the Southmarch are demanding we send troops to oppose the Shadowlander and his undead minions, Your Grace,” said another voice.
“They are in no position to demand anything,” said a third voice. It fell silent as we strode into view and all eyes swivelled to look at us.
One old man was dressed in a very simple tunic. He was tall and burly and silver-haired. His face was tanned and lined. Had it not been for the jewelled circlet on his head it would have been possible to mistake him for a gardener. Beside and slightly behind him stood a man in an elaborate court uniform similar to the one the servant wore but far more intricate, sewn with golden thread and buttons made of mother of pearl and wraithstone.
Nearby, among a group of military-looking men, was a person I recognised. That was Spider, who had commanded the Lady Alysia’s escort from Tarnheim. He was tall and dark-skinned and a tattoo of an arachnid covered half his face. He was talking with a heavily-built jowelly man of middle height whose clothing radiated wealth. Master Lucas was there, accompanied by two young people in robes just as white as his. I assumed they were his apprentices. Father Franco stood close to the Duke, clearly a trusted adviser.
All talking stopped when the group noticed Mistress Iliana and myself. The old man with the circlet turned and smiled. It was an open smile in an honest face and yet something in the man’s tired eyes made me think that he was not as glad to see us as he chose to appear.
“Mistress Iliana,” he said, “Welcome. This is the lad to whom we owe so much.”
His voice was pleasant. It carried well. An undercurrent in it told me that here was a man accustomed to being listened to and obeyed. There have been times since when I have wondered whether that was simply the imaginings of a boy overawed by the setting and the company, but I have never been able to convince myself. The Duke was used to wielding the power of life and death just as much as my mistress, albeit in a different way.
Mistress Iliana greeted him and introduced me. She did not name anyone else, as would have been polite in any other company. It was for the Duke to decide whether to introduce me or not. Instead he beckoned me closer, placed a hand on each of my shoulders and looked directly into my face, as if he expected to see something written there.
His hands were big and prominently veined. He had once been a very powerfully built man and even in old age he had a gaunt strength. He looked as if he could still wield a sword if he chose. His eyes were very clear and very blue and they reminded me
of the Lady Alysia’s. When I looked closely I saw her features mirrored in his. The shape of the eyes and the mouth were the same.
“I owe you a very great debt, young man,” the Duke said. “More than I can ever repay.”
Something in his tone told me that he did not expect to ever have to repay that debt but the form of words was important. I said nothing, nor did anything appear to be expected of me. “You have saved my beloved daughter from the blade of an assassin. You are welcome in my house. You are welcome in my service.”
The others murmured their approval, except my mistress who maintained her silence. I felt her eyes on me though and the fact that she was willing me to speak.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” I forced the words between lips that seemed glued together. “I am grateful that I could be of service.”
“Graciously said,” said the Duke.
He looked at Mistress Iliana as he spoke, as if she were responsible for the words and not me. Her gaze bored into mine. I realised I was still supposed to say something. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The Duke smiled and looked at Master Lucas. “I understand you may have something to do with teaching this young man, Lucas.”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Master Lucas said.
“See that you teach him well. If he is as gifted as Iliana says, he will be an adornment to this court and a credit to his teachers.”
For some reason these words did not seem to please Master Lucas’s apprentices. One of them, a skinny black-haired girl, looked as if she had just swallowed something sour.
The boy reminded me of Vorster only fatter and less tough-looking. He smiled when he heard the Duke’s words but the expression looked false. I wondered what I had done to win the enmity of this pair. I did not doubt for a moment that I had somehow acquired it.
“It shall be as your desire, Your Grace.”
“I am sure that between Mistress Iliana and your good self, you will make him into a great magician.”
“I shall certainly endeavour to do so,” said Master Lucas, making it clear that if I failed to turn out that way, it would not be through any lack of effort on his part. The Duke’s turned his back on me and I knew that as far as he was concerned the audience was over. I was nothing but glad.
Mistress Iliana and I bowed and we departed from the Glass Wing. That was my first meeting with Duke Marco and his court. After it was over I left his august presence feeling at once flattered and ignored.
Far more important was the fact that I caught sight of Lady Alysia watching me through the glass as we made our departure. She waved as we walked away and smiled, and that is the thing I remember best from that whole day.
Chapter Six
“Again,” Mistress Iliana said.
I closed my eyes and focused my attention on the rune she had inscribed on the wax tablet in front of me. It was a glyph I knew very well. I had been studying it for days. There were times when it felt like it was the only thing I had studied and still its inner meaning eluded me.
Oh, I knew what it was all right. In Eldrak, the language of the Old Ones, it meant light. If I could summon its true meaning into my mind, I would be able to call upon that light and use it in my spells.
“Again,” Mistress Iliana said. There was no note of exasperation in her voice. Her tone let me know that she was perfectly prepared to stand there for another hour and repeat herself. I knew this was the case because she had already done it many times in the past few days.
It felt like I had spent my entire time since I arrived in Solsburg either in this room listening to her talk about magic or finding my way back to my chambers, tired after a long day of concentrated effort. I had spent some time in the courtyards and gardens but it did not feel like very much.
“I’m trying, mistress,” I said. I was not able to keep the whine out of my voice. I felt a small weight on my foot, where Red lay, eyes closed, small snores emerging from his snout.
Mistress Iliana stopped pacing and went over to her desk and picked up one of the small white ceramic skulls she used as paperweights. She blinked and held the skull up and spoke a word. A glow like that of the sun seen through cloud surrounded the porcelain head.
I looked at her as if she was mocking me. I felt the energy flow when she invoked the spell. “I know that you can do this, mistress, but it appears that I cannot.”
“It appears,” she said. With the white makeup her face resembled the glowing skull. I thought that I detected a faint aura of light around her cropped red hair as well. If there was, she was simply showing off.
“I cannot do it.” All of the frustration that I felt showed in my voice, petulance and anger too. Normally I would not have dared allow them in the presence of my mistress but it had been a long tiring day and my temper was running short. Red shifted his weight as if something had disturbed his dreams.
“You already have done it,” she said. Her tone was light but there was a note of mockery in her voice. “Once you did it in such a way that you blinded a man.”
“My life was at stake. The life of Lady Alysia was at stake.”
“Yes, yes,” Mistress Iliana said. “I’ve heard that before. We both know that you can do this. It’s only a matter of time and repetition.”
“We’ve tried thousands of times” I said. “And it still does not work.”
“And you will try it thousands of times more until you get it right.”
“What if I never get it right, mistress? What if you’re wrong about me? What if I don’t have any talent at all?”
“Then you’re of no use to me or to anybody else in this Palace,” she said. It was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted reassurance. I wanted her to tell me that I was special. Most of all, I wanted to know that everything had not been in vain. “Actually, I tell a lie. You still have almost seven years of your contract of indenture to run. You will probably make a passable servant.”
I could tell that she was serious. I looked at her and then I looked at the glyph once again and I focused upon it. But nothing happened.
“This is very frustrating,” I said.
“Get used to it,” she said. “It will happen many times in the years to come, if you’re lucky.”
“That gives me something to look forward to, mistress.”
There were times when the power seemed within reach, when I could feel everything almost sliding into focus. If I could just put the last piece into place, I would be able to call the light once again. But, no matter how often I tried, it was always just beyond my grasp.
My mistress sighed. She looked at the glyph and then she ran her hand over the wax obscuring it. “Don’t look at that, concentrate. Focus your mind. I want you to think about the glyph.”"
“I have been doing that, mistress,” I said.
She wrapped me on the knuckles with the stylus that sat beside the drawing board. It smarted. “Don’t interrupt me, boy. You might learn something if you listen.”
I tried to look suitably chastened.
“Perhaps your problem is that you are too gifted.”
I could tell she was waiting for me to ask what she meant so she could rap my knuckles again. I restrained myself. She nodded as if in appreciation of my self-control and I knew that I had dodged that particular trap. “It is very unusual for any novice to be able to cast a spell under almost any circumstances except extreme stress but I can tell that you’re on the verge of being able to do it again.”
She paused to give that time to sink in. She was not just flattering me. She could sense the gathering and weaving of magical energies. “What you need to realise is that you have come very far, very fast. I know it does not seem like that to you. That is because the young always want everything yesterday. But you need to believe me when I tell you that it’s the truth. It took me months to reach the stage you are at right now and I was considered a gifted student once upon a time.”
Our eyes met and I could see that she was attempting to convince me that she w
as sincere. I think also there was a hint of humour in her glance.
“I am sure you were, mistress,” I said. I judged that I could get away with speaking and I was right.
“You have only spent days trying and yet you are frustrated. No doubt you would be even more frustrated if I told you that in some cases it can take years.”
“Years, Mistress?” Vistas of sitting in this room, looking at that wax tablet and trying to concentrate on nothing else for day after day, week after week, month after month overwhelmed my mind. I could tell that by the way my mistress looked at me that dismay showed on my face.
“That’s what it takes for some people to be able to cast their first spell on a regular basis.”
“Why?” I said and then added, “mistress.”
“I wish I knew. There’s no need to pout. I’m not trying to avoid your question. I suspect that is because it takes time for our minds to become accustomed to the working of magic. If you watch a swordsman practice with a blade, you will see them repeat the same drills over and over and over again. They practice striking and parrying until it is second nature, until they don’t have to think about doing it. Until their bodies do it for them. There’s a reason for that. In combat you often don’t have time to think about what you are going to do, you simply react.”
I was wondering where she was going with this. I was not likely to see combat anytime soon and I certainly wouldn’t be expected to wield the blade. “I see,” I said.
“I can tell by your expression that you do not. You’re wondering what I’m talking about. The answer is that working magic is in some ways like learning to use a blade. As you practice your mind learns to put all the pieces together smoothly and quickly and without thinking. You must learn to do that.”
I thought I saw what she was getting at. “You mean that perhaps I am visualising the pattern too slowly.”
She walked over to one of the bookshelves and picked a volume off the shelves. She flicked through the pages as she spoke. “Or perhaps not smoothly enough or perhaps you are visualising one section too quickly and one section too slowly. It’s hard to tell. Different magicians do these things in different ways. The power comes to different spell casters at different times and in different states of minds.”