by J. B. Markes
"What?"
"We both know Mr. Pitch is only an expert wizard, not a master. He's clearly out of his depth."
"Your father's an astrologist," I said. "A glorified diviner. No offense, but they don't make the best duelists either."
"They do if they know the end of the fight before it begins," she said.
"I thought we were on the same side on this."
"We are." She sighed and fidgeted with the charms on one of her thin gold bracelets. "I just don't know what you expect me to do about it. My father's a fool and so is Gustobald Pitch. I'm done with it. Let them kill each other for all I care."
"You don't mean that." I took a step back from her, but she didn't even look in my direction. "What's going on with you?"
"Nevermind. It's not your fault. But you're from the academy, and you've no idea how hard it is to be here, alone with no friends and no life, and a father intent on keeping things that way."
It was hard to sympathize with someone dressed from head to toe in gold, but I knew better than to judge from outward appearance. Since I learned of my illness, I did my best to avoid making new friendships. My outlook might have been different if I had never had any friends at all.
"We're friends, aren't we?" I asked. "I mean, we're already borrowing each other's clothes."
"Well, one of us is anyway." Her disposition cracked long enough for the smile to reach her eyes, then faded back into the creases of her daily troubles when Master Xavier approached.
The Royal Seer rolled his eyes when he noticed me, as if I had been the one who had insulted him. He snapped his fingers at the accompanying guard, who handed Airlea a large bundle. "We're next," Xavier said, straightening his cape. "And why is she wearing your robes? You ought not to get too close to a necromancer."
"She's not a necromancer," Airlea said. "She's a manifester."
"I'm also a person," I said. "And I'll talk to whomever I like."
"I see Pitch has rubbed off on you," he said. "Or his manners, at least. Watch yourself, girl, else you might find yourself in a duel of your own soon."
"Ho!" Gustobald peeked around the apricot tree. "I think I can handle the instruction of my own pupil, thank you very much."
"It's not worth it, Gustobald." I held up my hand to keep him at bay, but he brushed the apricot branch aside and stepped into full view.
"You can barely handle yourself, Pitch. This upstart—" He raised his finger toward my chest, but the butt of Gustobald's staff came swinging up with enough force to break his hand. Luckily it caught him just below the wrist instead, bells jangling with the impact. Xavier immediately spun toward the old wizard with a curse in his mind. I twisted my arm to release my wand, but the moment I leveled it at Xavier, Sentinel Chalke knocked me to the side and sent a shockwave from his palm that staggered the court wizard.
The blast ripped the air, cutting side discussions short and stretching nerves all around the throne room as people turned to find the source of the ruckus. Xavier's face flushed as Chalke stared him down with both wands held close to his sides. Gustobald watched on with mild approval, as if he himself hadn't instigated the exchange.
"Master Magician Xavier the Watchman!" The herald's powerful voice gave a start to those closest to him. "Custodian of Fate, Court Wizard, Royal Seer to His Majesty King Eamon!" The applause came soon after, ending the dreaded silence. Within seconds there were cheers and approving nods at the Royal Seer's dramatic entrance.
As the tension drained, I spotted Seeker Celeste near King Eamon, standing just outside the light of the Round with her hand up her sleeve. I scanned the room for other sentinels and noted each and every one on alert.
Xavier rubbed his arm with murder in his eyes. "To the death, Pitch," he whispered, just above the sustained applause. "To the death!" Xavier jerked his head at his daughter and she followed behind him with the package. She didn't look at me as she passed, so there was no chance for silent apologies.
The guests of the ceremony made way for the two astrologists who had chosen such an inconvenient direction from which to approach. Xavier stood straight and took light steps, which gave him the appearance of floating across the elegant tile floor. Airlea wasn't as concerned with making an impression and strolled as casually as she had through the royal garden.
Gustobald fell in at my left side. "That escalated quickly, don't you think?"
"You don't say. Are you trying to get us killed? The Sentinels are ready to throw."
"Oh?" He looked about with the requisite amount of doubt, but finally his eyes widened pensively. He nodded to Chalke, who was no longer in a gracious mood.
"But thank you," I added, placing my hand on his arm. "For everything."
"Well." Gustobald straightened his shoulders and adjusted the glowing pendant around his neck, directing my attention back to the gifting ceremony. "Let's see what gaudy prize Xavier believes can rival our own, shall we?"
After an animated bow so exaggerated it would court laughter in any other setting, Xavier brushed his hand up his throat and began his speech, his words amplified by cantrip. "Your Majesty! The kings of old knew their rule extended far beyond the terrestrial realm, over distances vast, unquantifiable by the minds of mortal men."
He signaled Airlea, who had already unfitted the velvet cloth, revealing a jewel-laden box which boasted a rich rainbow of sparkling stones. Each gem shone with perpetual light: diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies—not a single stone was unworthy of being a gift in and of itself. Airlea carried the box from beneath to avoid smudging her fingers across the jeweler's masterpiece.
"For Your Majesty's approval, I present the celestial sphere!" Xavier motioned to Airlea, who opened the box to reveal a shining black orb studded with miniscule diamonds. This time King Eamon led the applause, but it was mechanical. What passed for dignified poise was more revealing in light of his recent family tragedy. "May it serve to remind everyone of His Majesty's dominion over earth, heaven, and the infinite cosmos beyond."
"You're right, Gustobald," I said. "Look at that gaudy prize. It pales in comparison to this." I shook the tree and lost an apricot, but Gustobald held out his hand and the fruit leapt from the floor into his palm. With a look of warning he placed the crimson orb back on the tree, whispering quietly to fuse the stem back onto the branch.
"Are all hand mages this difficult?" Gustobald asked. "I wonder that Master Virgil has any hair left at all."
A priest and priestess from the High Temple came next. Their faces were blank, but the man approached much quicker than the woman, so she hurried to keep in step. When they stopped in front of the throne, they engaged in private conversation with the entire host waiting impatiently. They each placed their hands on the box and seemed to be arguing heatedly over who was to present the gift.
"Leave it to the One God to be of two minds," the king shouted with no trace of levity, inspiring laughter and spattered applause. "Your king is waiting!"
"Your Majesty!" The man broke away from the argument to pay the proper respect, but by the time he turned back to his partner, she had retreated out of arm's reach and taken the box with her. After one last wicked glower, the man adopted a priestly posture, placing his hands together at the fingertips. "Your Majesty, the High Temple of the One God blesses Prince Jasper and this holy union, and sends a symbolic gift to represent the power of the One God over this world, and the authority granted to His chosen vessel—"
The announcement hung in the air without finality. The priest opened his mouth and closed it again before hurriedly waving the priestess over. She revealed a small golden orb within the carved wooden box. It was a work of art, bands of gold forming a perfect sphere. Atop the orb rested the circle of the One God. Neither representative looked up from the prize to see their king's reaction.
"I guess they heard the king really likes orbs," I said, leaning into Gustobald. "Wait. Did Xavier plan this?"
"It would appear so," Gustobald replied. "He's craftier than I thought."
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"Retroactive blasphemy," I said, but Gustobald didn't appreciate the awe in my voice. "Will he get in trouble?"
"Who cares? Come 'round. We're going next. This is a good act to follow."
We walked toward the entrance of the chamber and Gustobald handed a note to the herald before negotiating with the royal guard. They were uncooperative until Sentinel Chalke jumped into the conversation, but within a minute we were cleared to approach.
"I'm staying back here," Chalke said to me as the herald prepared the announcement. "Please don't embarrass me. Also, try not to make any sudden movements, or you'll be struck dead."
"Let's go," Gustobald said. "And do pay close attention, Miss Ives. There's a lesson here." He didn't wait for me or the announcement. As soon as the priests had stepped off the carpet, he headed straight for the Radiant Round. I hefted the tree and stayed close on his heels.
"Garrold Pent the Changer!" The herald shouted. "Expert Transmuter of the Academy Magus."
Keen to Gustobald's warning, I took in the situation. King Eamon's countenance darkened at our approach, with Seeker Celeste equally perturbed at his side. The nearby sentinels took their cues from the Seeker. Master Xavier seethed from a safe distance at the queen's side. Queen Valora held the same hostility as our first private encounter in the garden. The only person who seemed at all pleased to see us was Princess Meridale, whose customary lust for new experiences bubbled over in the face of so many exotic treasures.
At the carpet's end, Gustobald snatched the tree from my hand and removed it from its pot, spilling soil all over the clean floor. He tossed the pot to me, but I was caught off-guard and it crash into sherds at my feet. Gustobald didn't seem to notice the disaster, or the king's tired sigh. Finally, he pulled up the sleeves of his robes and made his presentation.
"Behold the scarlet apricot!" He paused to allow those present to fully appreciate the plant, apparently oblivious to the fact that we didn't know the difference between a red apricot and an orange one. "Rare and quite delicious, yet much too fragile for Coranthian climes."
He flicked his finger on the topmost branch and the leaves browned and withered. Seconds later the tree shook its fruit and wasted away until only a barren stem remained. The skin of the fruit sloughed off, wasting away and leaving the kernels strewn over the tile. Gustobald wagged his finger and called one of the pits to land lightly on his palm; the rest of the kernels rotted away to nothing.
"Please accept the only scarlet apricot north of the Spring Line, grown from seed to tree in the true light of His Majesty's wondrous hall."
At this, the necromancer shouted a word of power and tossed the pit a good distance away. The floor trembled when it touched down, but the cries of shock faded quickly into awe as the seed exploded into strands of green and brown. Its trunk reached upward and blossomed into myriad branches that fractured at regular intervals. The roots burrowed through the tiled floor, drawing winces and gasps from all directions.
The tree slowed its ascent as it reached the height of the king upon his throne. The branches fanned out and we were left with a specimen many times over the size of the sapling I had brought. Princess Meridale shouted with glee and clapped her hands loud enough for the guards in the far hallway to hear. King Eamon offered a dispirited nod and applauded for his daughter's benefit. Only then did the crowd respond with poorly dispersed cheer.
Gustobald graciously accepted the fragile praise and left the attendants to detach the tree from the floor. I hurried after my master when he gave up the floor. I believe I played my part admirably, holding my face as blank as stone, as if everything had gone perfectly according to plan.
"Still the best gift, in my opinion," Gustobald mumbled as we fell back into the press, buckling slightly under my glare.
"It seems like a mistake," I said.
"Apricots are delicious!"
"I mean accepting all these gifts," I said, lowering my voice. "With you-know-who still missing."
"The king doesn't want to alarm anyone," Gustobald said. "Just look at it as a sign of His Majesty's faith in us. He knows we can handle it. It's just a missing person to find. That's nothing compared to what we did at the magic school."
It took fifteen minutes and ten men to realize the apricot tree wasn't coming out of the floor easily. There were still several groups waiting to present their gifts, but they were put on hold while the workmen rocked the tree back and forth to clear its roots. In the end, the task proved beyond them, so they gave up until such a time as the proper tools could be procured.
Sometime during the failed excavation, Seeker Celeste crossed into the Radiant Round and approached the throne with a scroll in hand. She whispered in King Eamon's ear as he read the document, his countenance grim as he leaned back and closed his eyes. For a moment it seemed he might fall off the throne. He wasted no time descending from his lofty seat but set out immediately for the west exit, which Gustobald and I had used when we came in. Seeker Celeste rushed behind him, the queen and her bodyguard departing next.
The next instant Chalke had me by the arm. "You and your master have been ordered to the private audience chamber."
"Already?" I asked, looking back at the tree.
"Mr. Pitch, if you will follow me, please."
Chalke wouldn't give me any information along the way. At the junction to the royal garden, we took the opposite corridor and I was lost again. It was infuriating to expect us to piece together the mystery of the prince's disappearance in a place where I couldn't even find my own room. I didn't even recognize the private audience chamber until I was inside, and it was the first room we had visited after arriving at the palace days ago.
With our arrival, the table was full. The king and queen were at the far end, next was Seeker Celeste seated directly across from the Royal Seer, and Gustobald took the empty seat at the near side of the table across from Inspector Raines. There were five sentinels standing at regular intervals around the gathering, one of whom I recognized as the queen's bodyguard from the garden and throne room.
Gustobald pulled out the empty seat beside him and I obeyed. The stillness of the room reminded me of our deathwalk; just as in the presence of the phantoms of that nether realm, I felt the weight of eyes upon me. I felt the sudden urge to apologize, though I wasn't sure exactly what I had done.
"Let's get on with it." King Eamon threw a parchment onto the table, which rolled halfway down the length of its surface before stopping. "Seems you were right, necromancer. My son is alive after all."
"As I said." Gustobald reached for the paper but Raines beat him to it.
The inspector spread the message and read it to himself, shock and frustration winning him over until Gustobald gave a soft whistle through his teeth. It might have been seen as rude if so many others didn't share the wizard's impatience. Finally, Raines rubbed his short beard and narrated the message with far less gravity than he usually carried:
KING'S COURT, FULL OF FOOLS.
PAY IN GOLD, PAY IN JEWELS.
A KING'S RANSOM FOR WHAT YOU SEEK.
ALIVE IN DAYS OR DEAD IN A WEEK.
"What is this?" Raines asked. "It bears Prince Jasper's own seal." Raines turned his hand over and I saw a crude geometrical rose set deep into the wax. The seal was situated in the center of the paper just beneath the last line of the rhyme. The scroll itself was left unsecured. "Where is the messenger?"
"It came by pigeon some hours ago," one of the sentinels said.
"Which doesn't explain why I am only seeing it now." King Eamon's breath was already ragged.
"Apologies, Your Majesty," the sentinel said. "We have many pigeons coming and going."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this may prove fortunate," Celeste said. "Perhaps the pigeon will lead us back to whoever sent it. I'll put Sentinel Eastly on it. He has a way with animals and will make short work of it."
"The bird fell over dead as soon as it was caged," the sentinel said.
Xavier drove his fist i
nto the table. "This is foul magic, and not surprising! We all know wherever necromancers go, death soon follows."
"You're the one mentioned in the letter, Xavier," Gustobald said.
The astrologist snatched the missive from Raines and mumbled the first line once more, slamming the paper on the table.
"Enough!" King Eamon sat up straight, looking for something to throw. "By the gods, I'll have both your heads on a stick before this is over! But since you insist on accusing one another, bring ink. We'll compare handwriting and settle this here and now."
"It won't matter," Celeste said as one of her sentinels hastily prepared a writing station. "We're obviously dealing with a proficient wizard or we could simply scry the prince's location. And they wouldn't curse the bird and leave the scroll unprotected. See here." She motioned and Xavier slid the paper to her outstretched fingers, then she took the scribe's feather and scribbled directly onto the parchment. The words deformed and reformed to match the calligraphy perfectly. "It will take months to break through all the layers of protection without destroying the scroll in the process. And even then, we would most likely turn up nothing of value."
"Then we pay." The king put his hand on his forehead, shielding his face in defeat. "How do we make payment? The letter doesn't say."
"You don't," Gustobald said. "These people don't want gold. This letter is clearly a diversion."
"Doubtful," Raines said.
"Oh, is that right, Inspector?" Gustobald so liked to be called out in front of others that he didn't bother ridiculing Raines. "Miss Ives, tell them why any ransom paid would never be collected."
"It's not a difficult spell to mark a coin or jewel," I said. "A wizard would know that, too. We would follow it right back to him."
"Or her." Gustobald gave me his habitual accusing glower, so I raised my hands in a tired declaration of innocence.
"So we are to leave the prince in the hands of his captors?" Queen Valora asked. "We have a Seeker Sentinel, a Crown Inspector, a Royal Seer, and a wizard-detective; and the plan is to do nothing at all?"