The Emperor's Mage

by Clark Bolton

  “I’m Fu-Si, remember!” he yelled at them all.

  This got Arn-Pie moving, and eventually Lu-Bod. The two lifted him up as he leaned against the wall. The window was still out of reach, and so after a few moments he had them let him down.

  Staring up at the windows again, he told them, “Get the girls in the alcove. Stay there, all of you.”

  They looked happy to comply as it got them further away from him, he suspected. Alone now, he picked up the stool and went back to the side door. He tried to use it as a lever to pry the door open. The silver metal was too soft, however, and eventually he had all four legs bent out of shape.

  There was no wood in this room, he realized as he looked for rafters; only a tiny bit had been used to frame the windows. The ceiling looked to be of metal and ceramic. He felt suddenly like his life was ebbing away. This room was clearly built as an oven.

  He lost track of time as he searched every bit of the room, including the two alcoves, most of it on his hands and knees. The other students began to avoid him completely now, as if his touch was venomous. When darkness came, he used glow cantrips to light his way. This seemed another reason for the others to avoid him.

  THUMP!

  When the noise came he was slouched against a wall near a corner. He looked around in confusion, thinking maybe something he had done caused the noise. The second thump, he was sure, came from the mysterious outside door; the one they had never seen open.

  His heart pounded and he thought perhaps now the door had moved a nearly imperceptible amount. Several of the students were peering out of the alcove now. They looked lost and frightened, but not as frightened as they should be, he thought.

  SCREEEECHH!

  One of the outside doors suddenly slid a little bit to the side. It was enough to show something large was out there. Whatever it was, it was bathed in a glowing, reddish-hued light. When a monstrous snout pushed the door further aside, the screaming and the panic began in earnest. Ich-Mek found himself screaming as loud as the others, despite mentally preparing himself half the night for this moment.

  He ran to a corner, then another corner, as he did his best to avoid looking at the beast. The thing snorted several times as he did this, then withdrew for a moment. The stench it left behind was overwhelming, and Ich-Mek was trembling so badly at this point that he could feel his own hands shaking as he pressed his palms to his eyes. The runes had long since lost their potency though. In fact, they were unreadable now.

  With utter despair he curled in a corner, like a ball, and now heard himself whimpering along with the others, all of whom were still in the alcove. In desperation he held out his hand with the Owesek-ring on it as he buried his face in his own robes. Another snort came, followed then by a great shudder as the two outer doors were flung fully open with a crash.

  Ich-Mek couldn’t remember much of what happened next. He was dragged liked a doll to the doors and flung out like bath-water. He had lain there with eyes tightly shut, hoping against hope to be mistaken for dead. Other noises had followed but these he hadn’t been able to sort out. Then a blistering heat had washed over him like a wind.

  When silence came, he had started to sing mantras in his head, over and over with his eyes clinched tightly shut. It was many mantras later, he guessed, before he came to his senses on the cold stone.

  As dawn broke, the Pus-Don came and found him still curled in a ball. They carried him over so he could sit near the doors. He could see now that he was on a kind of extended ledge. Toward three sides was a cliff, and the building itself looked to prevent anyone from accessing the ledge other than through the huge doors.

  When the Regent came, Ich-Mek tried to stand but couldn’t. His limbs felt so light and weak that he couldn’t balance himself, and so he fell to his knees. Here he just stared at the Regent’s feet, as the man lorded over him silently.

  “You have the dragon-sickness,” the Regent declared after a time. “Show me your ring!”

  Ich-Mek hesitated to look up, and then decided he didn’t need to. Instead he lifted his left hand up, letting the Regent grasp his wrist. He was nearly pulled to his feet by the large man, and then was dragged to where the sunlight met the ledge. Here the Regent gazed incessantly at his ring, but never once dared to touch it.

  “A dragon-ring!” the Regent hissed loudly after a time. “What did the palace-mages say, Ich-Mek?” the Regent demanded to know in a near-frantic tone.

  Ich-Mek shook his head as he tried to think of what to say. He gave up after a few moments, and just kept staring at the ground. Other instructors came, and several knelt beside him to examine the ring. All were in awe, and nearly speechless of what they saw.

  “Take Fu-Si Ich-Mek to the dormitory,” the Regent commanded of the Pus-Don who were present.

  Gentle hands lifted Ich-Mek up, and then he was walked through the selection chamber and down the steps. He hardly remembered to glance around to see how the other four students had faired. It didn’t register until he reached the last step that what he had just seen was ash. Nothing but ash.

  Chapter 9

  Bose hardly noticed the length to which the caravan he was in had stretched out as they put more distance between them and Key-Tar-Om School. They had yet to cross over into Wa province and so hadn’t left Key-Tar-Om officially. When they did, he knew he would have to make the most difficult decision of his life; well, perhaps the second most difficult.

  Just days ago he had married his fiancée, Pleiss-Yom, in a short ceremony along with dozens of other couples that had just graduated. Traditionally the betrothed married before traveling to their provincial posts, so that they could be a couple from the start. These couples were always posted in the same city, and expected to work together and to start a family. It was from these unions, it was said, future dragon-mages would come.

  It had taken all of Bose’s persuasive powers to convince Pleiss-Yom not to call for family to attend the ceremony. That would have delayed things for moons, assuming anyone would come, which seemed unlikely as neither of them were from well-to-do families. He had sent a letter asking his family not to send a representative to the wedding, explaining that he wished they would instead come to a second ceremony that would occur later at his new post.

  He was lying to everyone he knew, but that was part of the plan he had hatched with Tang. Openly staying longer in Key-Tar-Om meant possibly drawing the Regent’s attention, something Tang was almost certain would happen. The two of them had helped Ich-Mek become the chosen dragon-boy, and now that Bose was the close friend of a dragon-mage, the Regent could threaten him to gain leverage over Ich-Mek. Staying longer also meant there was more risk he would be found living in the cave as opposed to the dormitories, where he only pretended to stay. Tang was his master now, and though the consequences of his decision were piling up now, he refused to regret it.

  “I’ve been learning new things” was all Bose would tell Pleiss-Yom, whom he occasionally rode beside.

  It was his first time on a pony since coming to Key-Tar-Om, and he found it hard to control the beast, so for the most part he just let it walk single-file behind all the others that carried students; males toward the front of the column, and women toward the rear. There were thirty-five couples in this caravan, and he knew from Tang that once they left Key-Tar-Om proper the numbers would dwindle as those destined for different provinces would peel off to take other roads. The time to act was coming, he knew; the larger the crowd, the less likely he was to be missed.

  Pleiss-Yom was confused by Bose’s allusions to him leaving her for a time, but rarely argued with him. He was thankful she didn’t press the issue, which he attributed to the tradition of letting the husband decide things. Key-Tar-Om was, above all things, a place of tradition. He knew the guilt he was feeling over his plan would only grow; still he refused not to give into it.

  He could tell she was upset by his talk, but at least for now the rigors of travel had distracted her. Tang had warned him he must
not linger outside Key-Tar-Om, and that he must not, in any way, let Pleiss-Yom know what he planned.

  “The Scarm will search for you, perhaps as soon as you go beyond the school’s walls,” Tang had warned. “Ich has trained you beyond the point of forgiveness by them…and I’ve only added to this.”

  “When do you think I can safely leave?” he had begged to know.

  “When your friend brings you and I rings, boy,” Tang had replied sternly, “and not before, so prepare for a very long stay!”

  Bose snapped himself out of his reverie, and so saw now the giant etched stones that marked the borders of Key-Tar-Om, the so-called tenth province. His heart raced as he rode slowly by them, and he couldn’t suppress a look back to see how Pleiss-Yom was faring. He could barely see her in the long string of ponies behind him. Before long, he lost interest as he began to feel like he was being watched.

  “Imagination,” he muttered to himself.

  When they next stopped to eat a meal he led his pony away into some trees under the guise of wanting some privacy. As soon as he was out of sight he dug out a scroll from his robes. It contained an obscuration spell, given to him by Tang. Casting it brought an overwhelming rush of arcane-energy with it, and for a moment he just stood there in bliss. Finally, he targeted the spell back toward the temporary encampment, and waited nervously for Pleiss-Yom and all the others to ride on without him.

  __________________________

  It was a gilded cell, Ich-Mek finally had to admit this to himself. The golden bars reached down from the high ceiling to the floor, with several crosspieces set horizontally. A single ornate gate had been locked by the Regent himself. The key now resided with a Pus-Don by the name of Ont, who seemed ever present now.

  After the selection he had been taken to the dormitories, where he languished for many days. Then they had taken him to the Regent’s own palace. It seemed a palace to him, anyway. There he had his own servants, who brought him nearly anything he desired.

  Then, days later, the Pus-Don had come for him a second time. They treated him with great respect, as did everyone else he came in contact with. Instructors and students alike bowed to him, much as they did the Regent, and called him Fu-Si. Still the Pus-Don insisted he enter the cell he was now in.

  The single room was immaculately furnished with carpets on the floor, a plush chair, an actual bed, writing table, and even shelves packed with books. These books he had never seen before, and was now actually looking forward to reading them. Still it was obviously a prison.

  “The palace will not acknowledge you, Fu-Si,” the Regent had told him as he locked the gate to the cell. “It would be unwise for you to leave Key-Tar-Om.”

  “But why, my lord?” Ich-Mek had pleaded to know. “I was selected!”

  The Regent shook his head firmly before adding, “The Emperor counts his rings carefully, Fu-Si. Yours wasn’t in the tally.”

  “But what will happen to me?” Ich-Mek had asked in despair.

  “You will serve Key-Tar-Om,” the Regent had answered as he began walking away. “Perhaps someday as Regent.”

  “Bring to me my friend, Rish!” Ich-Mek yelled out loudly through the bars of the cell.

  He knew Ont and the other guards were not far, and so could easily hear him. He had commanded they stand guard out of his sight, and they had dutifully complied. Nearly every one of his commands was obeyed by the Pus-Don now. They wouldn’t open his cell, however, nor would they send letters to his family.

  For the longest time he had delayed asking for his friends for fear they would be punished in some way because of it. Most students had left for their new posts by this time, he knew. He had asked first for Bose, but had been told the boy had left the school. Thinking Bose was hiding in the cave alongside Tang, Ich-Mek thought it best not to push the subject.

  Ont replied with a “Yes, Fu-Si” from out of sight. Ich-Mek could then hear him dispatch one of the other guards to carry out his command. He began pacing back and forth in his wide cell while he waited.

  Ich-Mek was truly surprised when Rish was brought before him some time later. His poor friend looked disheveled, and lost. But when Rish smiled at him, all seemed well for a moment.

  Dismissing the guards, Ich-Mek then motioned for Rish to come to the bars. “Why are you still at Key-Tar-Om?” Ich-Mek asked his friend. “Nearly everyone else has been sent away.”

  Rish smiled at him and said softly, “I think they made me stay. The province of Imin doesn’t need me.”

  Ich-Mek shook his head in doubt. “The Regent needs you,” he declared. “He wants someone to talk to me. To keep me sane, and maybe say things I shouldn’t.” He looked past Rish to the corridor behind his friend, where he knew Ont and his men were likely eavesdropping. “How’s Bose?” Ich-Mek finally dared to whisper

  “Bose is okay,” Rish replied softly. “I spend a lot of time in the cave with him when no one is watching me.”

  “You should have gone to Imin,” Ich-Mek said sadly.

  The two of them then sat with heads bowed together and talked of better times, and what lay ahead for them. Ich-Mek then gave his friend some of the exotic foods he was given daily, and for a time they were happy. The meeting lasted until nightfall, then Ich-Mek called for the guards to come escort his friend back to the dormitory.

  They hadn’t discussed what had happened during the selection, and Ich-Mek hinted to his friend that he never would. It was still too painful. He was as of yet unable to shake off the image of Lu-Bod’s face, when he had snatched the ring from the floor in front of the boy.

  They began letting him out almost daily, under the watchful eye of Ont. Ich-Mek was always flanked by three guards, who politely kept a respectable distance from him. He began to suspect the instructors and the students he met while walking thought the guards were there for his protection. After a few days he began walking with his hands behind his back, like he’d seen some notable administrators doing.

  A moon had passed since the selection, and yet still some students remained. Rish was one of these, and so dressed differently now. Instead of the silver, these students began wearing the black robes of the mage.

  “What color should I wear?” Ich-Mek asked his friend as they strolled through one the school’s gardens.

  “Black, right?” Rish replied. “You’re the greatest mage here! Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Not so great,” he replied skeptically. “You forget I still live in a cell.”

  “A palace, compared to where I live.”

  The comment gave Ich-Mek an idea. He had already suspected Rish was getting a lot more respect from the instructors since so often being seen with the dragon-mage.

  “I’ll tell them to give you your own cell,” Ich-Mek told him joyfully. “A room, maybe…if we can find one.”

  Rish looked uncertain and perhaps a little frightened at the prospect of new quarters, until Ich-Mek assured him it would not be an issue. Besides that, he wanted to test the extent of his authority. As he said this, he began to wonder if he was just getting bored.

  “No one teaches me anymore,” Ich-Mek complained. “I miss that.”

  “You should teach them!”

  The idea that he should teach hadn’t really occurred to him before. He kept thinking the palace would call him to the capital, where he would be taught by the few Owesek-mages that resided there.

  “Would pass the time, I guess,” Ich-Mek told his friend.

  He wondered then how Yi-La was forced to pass the time, or even if she was still alive. He hadn’t the nerve to ask the Regent on the few times they had met; it seemed too awkward a subject to bring up, and would just give the Regent an opening to pry for more information from him. Not that he had much to give, he reminded himself.

  “Where is Lipa, your fiancée?” Ich-Mek then thought to ask. “Has she gone to Imin without you?”

  “I don’t know!” Rish replied. “No one will tell me.”

  Ich-Mek stared at his friend
for a moment, then decided he would do something about the question right then. Looking toward the administration building, which sat atop the hills that separated the boys’ section of Key-Tar-Om from the girls’, Ich-Mek then decided he would go where they had never gone before.

  “Let’s go find her,” he suggested, then wondered if that was the right moment. “I think I should change,” he told his friend as he looked down at his plain robes.

  Rish was speechless for a moment. “I…don’t think we can,” he argued.

  “We’ll see,” Ich-Mek called over his shoulder as he headed for the Pus-Don quarter of the school.

  The closer they got to his destination the more Pus-Don and former students they met. All bowed repeatedly when they realized who he was, and some groups scattered ahead of him like chickens. It was satisfying, he told himself.

  “Where is the laundry?” he asked Ont, who was trailing close behind him.

  The man pointed the way, and soon Ich-Mek was off through a maze of smaller buildings. When the smell of lye was strong in the air he assumed he had found the right place.

  “What color of robes do you have?” he called out to no one in particular.

  A group of nearby Pus-Don began to search frantically about, and soon they were offering up all types of cloth and other textiles to him. Like an instructor inspecting the work of his students, Ich-Mek paced through the interconnected buildings, but saw few things he liked.

  “What were those Fu-Si wearing? The ones in the paintings we used to look at?” he asked Rish.

  Rish shook his head. “I remember the ones when we wore the green, but I can’t think of what they were wearing. Wonder if they are still there.”

  The dormitory looked different to Ich-Mek when he walked in. Then when he turned to see that the portraits they were searching for still hung by the door, memories came flooding back. He and his two friends had practically grown up in this one long dorm room. From the age of seven until he was nearly twelve, they had thought of this place as home.