Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms)

by Pope, Christine

  “No,” I said at once. It was not something I had to even ponder, for from the first time the magic stirred to life in me, I knew I could do nothing but allow it to grow and strengthen. To deny a mage-born person their magic would be like taking away the very air we breathe.

  “That is how it was for us. It terrified us, and yet we knew it was something which must be attempted. We knew we risked death, and possible exile, but we did not turn away.”

  I could not pretend that I understood completely, for it still seemed quite a different thing for me to begin training in magic under my father’s tutelage, and something yet again to set forth on a journey no one else had ever attempted, a journey from which there might be no return. Still, the quest for knowledge was familiar enough to me, and so I decided to let the matter go for the moment.

  “Well, then,” I began, then hesitated. “So should I call you grandfather?”

  A smile, a true one, almost a grin. “I do not think that is necessary. It was a very long time ago.” His gaze sharpened, and he continued, “I do, however, think it time to take up your training once again. You know enough of the ‘why’s. It is now time to address the ‘how’s.”

  For myself, I did not believe that I knew enough yet of Ulias’ origins, or of the line of mage-born that had eventually traced its way down to me, but I could tell from his tone of voice that he wanted no more of questions. And truly, with the specter of Maldis hovering still like a black shadow at the corner of my mind, I knew it would not be prudent to dwell much longer on ancient history, however fascinating it might be to me. Just as my brother had trained in swordplay and statecraft under Lord Senric’s tutelage that he might be prepared to take over the stewardship of Marric’s Rest, so must I now learn everything I could from Ulias to gird myself for the eventual confrontation with Maldis.

  I rested my hands on my knees and stared directly at Ulias, this strange being who, somehow, as improbable as it might seem, was my long-ago forebear. “I am ready,” I said.

  His grey gaze was very sharp. “Well, we will have to see about that.”

  * * *

  In truth, though I had begun these exercises with Ulias the week before, this day he pushed me harder and harder, casting spells of increasing subtlety so that I had to strain with every ounce of that odd sense of mine to know what he had wrought — that a stream some three miles away had begun to flow uphill, or that a flock of hens who had only laid prosy white eggs up until that point suddenly laid a batch all in a lovely fawn-brown. Simple things, on the surface, ones I knew Ulias had chosen so they should not cause any lasting harm. In all things he was wary of the effects of his magic, although I guessed Maldis had no such scruples.

  And even my small triumphs in such things were not enough for my exacting master. No, once I had discerned what he had wrought, I had to locate those fine, shining strands of magic and delicately unpick them the way one might remove unwanted embroidery from a garment. Difficult work, so much so that the sweat began to stand out on my forehead despite the chilly dampness of the cellar, and my breath began to come in short gasps.

  “Enough,” Ulias said finally, after I had finished undoing his spell to concentrate a patch of freezing rain out in the very middle of the lake, where at this season none of the local fishermen would dare to congregate.

  I looked up with bleary eyes and blinked. “Did I not do it correctly?”

  “Absolutely correctly. But we have been at this for three hours. Any more, and you will either collapse, or be discovered missing. Neither of these is to be desired. Besides, you must get at least a few good hours of sleep, or we will risk another fainting incident.”

  While I wished to protest, I knew he was right. Although Kadar was a heavy sleeper — and probably slept even more deeply this night, with Ulias’ spell of calming peace blanketing the castle — the risk of discovery grew with every minute I was gone.

  So I rose from the stool, noting absently the shakiness of my limbs, almost as if they belonged to someone else, and said, “Will we do this again tomorrow night?”

  “If possible. Maldis cannot conceal what he is from me, but I am not always able to discern precisely how long he will be gone. I do not know the identities of his victims until he brings them hence.”

  “‘Hence’?” I repeated, aghast. “You mean he keeps them here, in this very castle?”

  “Oh, no,” Ulias said at once. He moved closer to the bars, apparently intending to reach out to comfort me, but stopped at the last minute, as if just then remembering what would happen to him if he touched that bespelled iron. “Maldis is not bold enough for that. He speaks honeyed words in your husband’s ear, promising him power, but he knows he dare not reveal to the Mark precisely whence that power comes. No, Maldis has a house on the outskirts of town, and it is there that he takes his victims. But even though that house is on the opposite side of Tarenmar from this keep, it is still close enough that I can feel the presence of these victims, sense it when Maldis begins to drain their magic.”

  “That’s…dreadful,” I said, a shiver moving over me as I contemplated what it must be like to feel someone’s life force, their magic, being slowly stolen from their soul. At the same time, however, a tiny flicker of relief came into being deep within me. So Kadar did not know of Maldis’ abhorrent practices. Yes, he was taking the counsel of someone with dubious origins, in the name of a foolish (to my eyes, at any rate) ambition, but he was not a murderer, or even a party to murder.

  “It is,” Ulias replied, and something in his expression made me even colder, although I had not thought that possible. “And it is something you will have to learn to experience, whenever it is that Maldis brings his next victim back to Tarenmar.”

  * * *

  I crept back to my rooms, soul-sick and so weary I barely had the strength to return my cloak to the wardrobe where it usually hung, and to place my boots in their customary spot by the hearth. But I knew I must do these things, in case either Kadar or Beranne should notice anything amiss.

  When I pulled the heavy pile of blankets up to my chin, however, I found that, tired as I was, I somehow could not sleep. Ulias’ words haunted me.

  Something you will have to experience…

  Could I bear it? Could I keep myself still and calm as I felt my way along the twisted skeins of such dark magic, feel it robbing someone of their own innate power? At the moment I thought such a thing most unlikely, but perhaps when the time came I would be strong enough to do what I must, even if it tore me to my very core.

  Over the low crackle of the fire I fancied I could hear Kadar’s breathing from the other room, deep and regular. Again I wondered if I should simply rise from my makeshift bed and go to him, shake him awake and tell him everything, that he harbored a magic-worker of the worst sort beneath his roof, that surely he would be dragged down into darkness himself if he did not swerve from this course.

  The compulsion was so strong that I sat up and began to push back my covers, and even swung my legs over the edge of the divan. But it was there that I stopped myself. The habits of a lifetime were simply too strong. I had been taught — told — over and over again that I must not reveal the truth of my magic to anyone. At best, ostracism and exile awaited me; at worst, probably death. I knew even in these latter days those proven to have mage-born powers were executed in Sirlende. No whisper of such things had come to me here in Tarenmar, but then again, I had known better than to ask. Matters were slightly more enlightened in the South, but still, if I had ever told anyone of my gifts, I would have been shunned forevermore.

  No, as much as I wanted to go to Kadar, to tell him who and what Maldis really was, I knew that in doing so I would reveal myself, and in that would surely lie disaster. Perhaps I could think of some way to remove him from the dark mage’s influence without betraying my own magical abilities, but at the moment no solution presented itself to me. And even though I had begun to think — to hope — that there might be the beginnings of some regard f
or me in this makeshift husband of mine, I could not trust such a fragile thing to survive the shock of learning that his stolen wife herself had magical blood flowing through her veins.

  Choking back a sigh that was almost a half-sob, I tucked my legs back under the covers once again, and drew the blankets to my chin. The fire was warm enough. I knew the chill that overtook me then came from within, and not without.

  * * *

  At last I did sleep, deeply, in a black oblivion that was much welcomed after my trials that day. In fact, I slept so heavily that I did not hear Kadar rise at all, nor did he disturb me as he moved past and went out into the keep to begin his day. It was only when Beranne came in sometime in the mid-morning to bring me a pot of the herbal tisane that passed for tea in these parts that I sat up at last, blinking in a bleary fashion at the equally wan daylight pushing its way past the heavy velvet draperies.

  “His lordship said not to disturb you, but I thought I shouldn’t wait much longer, or it would be too close to luncheon to even bother with breakfast. Have you the appetite to eat a mite?”

  I had to smother a smile at Beranne’s use of the word “mite,” which in her estimation appeared to be a large slice of smoked pheasant, half a loaf of bread, and a generous pile of dried fruit. “I think I could manage.”

  So I rose from the divan and drew my dressing gown about myself, and went over to Kadar’s work table to eat. I pushed some papers and maps out of the way to do so, frowning a little. What was he doing with those, anyway? Even the beginning of winter was no time to be mounting a campaign…unless he was counting on Maldis to create a false spring with more favorable conditions for fighting.

  Beranne left me alone to eat, busying herself with folding the blankets and sheets on the divan (I had long since given up trying to fool her into thinking that Kadar and I shared a bed), selecting my garments for the day, and laying them on the back of a chair. I munched away on the pheasant and the bread, interspersing bites of each with the dried berries she’d brought as well, but all the while my eyes were busy scanning the papers Kadar had left out on the table.

  Of course I had studied my geography, along with all the other subjects my father deemed it advisable for me to learn, but somehow it seemed far more immediate now that I dwelt within the boundaries of North Eredor, and not safely on the outskirts of Marestal. True, South Eredor was itself not a large kingdom, and its military could not hope to match that of Sirlende. But the small kingdom was still a rich one, positioned as it was where the trading ships from both Purth and Keshiaar would put into port to restock. A natural barrier separated Purth from the South, as a southern spur of the Opal Mountains extended almost all the way to the shore, so we had little fear of invasion from that side. And as for Sirlende, well, I suppose some hundreds of years earlier its rulers had wearied of gobbling up smaller territories and decided to leave South Eredor alone. It does not hurt conquerors to appear magnanimous every once in a while.

  But the North’s only real protection was its poverty…and the strength of its warriors, I supposed. Looking at those maps, I saw how fragile a land it seemed, with Sirlende on the one side and Farendon on the other, both of them large enough to swallow up North Eredor many times over. And in his notes Kadar had written, Four months until the wedding, and underlined the word “wedding” several times, then scrawled out “Sirlende” and “Farendon,” circling the names of both countries.

  Wedding? I frowned, even as I buttered a bit of bread. Now that I had slept enough, I found I was ravenously hungry, as if all my exertions of the night before had finally left their mark.

  I cleared my throat. “Beranne?”

  She looked up from her task of blacking my boots. Apparently I had scuffed them during my wanderings in the cellars the night before. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Do you know — that is, have you heard anything about a marriage taking place between someone important in Sirlende and in Farendon?”

  Her brows lifted. “Keeping you sheltered down there in South Eredor, were they?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  An odd twitch of her mouth seemed to indicate that Beranne would very much like to smile at my ignorance but was too well-trained to do so. “His Imperial Majesty is betrothed to the oldest daughter of the King of Farendon. As she has come of age this autumn, they are to be married in the spring. The Mark is…well, I suppose it is no great secret that he is less than pleased with the prospect.”

  No doubt. I stared down at the map once more, seeing the two countries almost as a pair of pinchers that could close in on tiny North Eredor with barely a second thought. No, it could not be comfortable to think of two great nations being joined in such a way.

  Perhaps I should have paid more attention to what was happening in the world, but my tendency had always been to bury myself in stories of people long dead — when I was not being instructed in magic by my father, of course. Sheltered as I had been in the South, it was of no great import to me who the Emperor of Sirlende married, or how the King of Farendon disposed of his numerous (at least, that was what I had heard) daughters.

  But now, as a citizen of the land which lay between these two giants, I could see why such an alliance would be of utmost concern to Kadar…and why he might go to great lengths to stop it.

  A chill ran through me then, and I wondered if that was why he had enlisted the aid of someone such as Maldis. No doubt a dark mage would have no problem at all stopping the match, if given the proper resources.

  The fresh bread suddenly seemed dry as crumbs in my mouth, and I almost choked, then reached for some water to keep myself from coughing.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” Beranne asked, laying aside her blacking brush and getting somewhat ponderously to her feet.

  I could not answer that question honestly, and so I said only, “I must see his lordship at once. Is he yet in the keep?”

  “As far as I know, my lady.” Used enough by now to my vagaries of mood, she lifted my chemise from where it lay across the back of the divan. “Let me help you get dressed.”

  Truly it was probably the fastest I had ever performed my toilette, as she helped me into my chemise and warm gown of green wool, then worked out the worst of the knots in my curly hair before I impatiently pulled away from the comb and set forth into the crowded hallways of the keep. With snow once again falling, it seemed as if yet more people had taken shelter within the castle’s sturdy walls, finding what excuses they could to conduct their business inside and not out in the icy courtyard.

  I could not be bothered with any of that. Pushing my way through the crowd — with the beleaguered Beranne at my heels, as she at least knew propriety did not allow me to set forth with no one in attendance — I looked this way and that, hoping that I would see Kadar somewhere in the throng.

  But he was nowhere in evidence, and even though I slowed enough to inquire as to his whereabouts from the guards who always maintained a post outside the Hall of Grievances, even when it wasn’t in session, no one seemed to know where he was. I forced myself to quell the rising tide of panic within me, trying to ignore the frantic voice in my head.

  He must be here. He must be, for I must find him, speak with him, before Maldis returns and they embark on whatever dreadful course of action they have planned.

  And then I neared the huge double doors that were the main entrance to Kadar’s castle. The crowds were thicker here, if that were even possible, but the air around me was far colder, blown in every time one of those doors was opened.

  At last I saw Kadar’s shaggy dark head, higher than that of almost everyone around him. I pushed forward, Beranne snapping angrily, “Let her ladyship through. Let her through!”

  But the crowds did not part quickly enough. Through them I saw Kadar pause, and that lightning smile of his illumine his face. And before him was a man with fair hair, rare enough in this part of the world, and I ground to a halt, Beranne almost bumping into me from behind.

  The cold air
touching my face was nothing to the chill that shivered its way up my spine then. For all my haste, I was too late.

  Maldis had returned to Tarenmar.

  Chapter 14

  “Let us go,” I said dully, and Beranne stared at me with lifted brows.

  “Whatever do you mean, my lady? His lordship is right over there — ”

  “His lordship is otherwise engaged,” I snapped, cruel disappointment sharpening my tone.

  Her expression softened then, as she looked past me to see Kadar standing there with Maldis. I had tried to hide as best I could my revulsion for the so-called “advisor,” but Beranne was no fool. She bowed her head and murmured, “Of course, my lady.”

  We pushed our way back through the crowd. This time I was glad of the teeming mass of humanity, glad they were there to shelter me, keep me from Kadar’s watchful gaze. Under the cover they provided, I was able to make my way back to my suite, where Tresi jumped up from her basket and came running joyfully toward me.

  “Oh, Tresi,” I murmured, bending down and scooping her up into my arms.

  She wriggled a bit, for, despite her size, she did not much care for being carried about — although she would have cheerfully slept on my lap every night if I had allowed her. But then, as if somehow sensing my disquiet, she burrowed in closer to me, pushing her little wet nose up against my chin.

  “My lady,” Beranne said, and I turned. She watched me in some concern, arms crossed over her breasts. “Why such haste? Is it not something you could speak to his lordship about when he returns this evening? For you know he always comes back to escort you down to dinner.”

  Which he did, almost without fail. It was yet another of the things that had helped to endear him to me — so careful he was to show me the little courtesies, to prove to everyone that ours was a true marriage of love and respect. Now, though, it seemed as if an eternity stretched between now, when it was barely noon, and the time when we would take our evening meal, some six hours hence. So much could happen in that amount of time, and yet I knew there was nothing I could do. With Maldis returned, the two of them would be closeted together for much of the day, and of course I could not speak to Kadar if the dark mage was anywhere around.