The White Robe (The Sword and the Spell)

by Clare Smith

  After a while he grew tired of staring at them and left them there whilst he set off for the House of Learning. The least he could do was apologise to the master for his failure to attend his instruction. He knew he should have taken his sword with him for protection, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up, so he was quite relieved when he noticed that one of Allowyn’s armsmen was following him at a discrete distance. When he reached the House of Learning the Master of Magic wasn’t there, so he spent the rest of the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the city and eventually ended back at the inn. He’d only just returned when the pot boy dragged him through the door, found him a table and thrust a pot of the inn’s best ale into his hand.

  He was still staring into the half empty pot when the spare chair at his table was pulled backwards, its legs scraping noisily on the rough stone floor. Jonderill looked up in annoyance, straight into the bright blue eyes of Tissian who gave him a broad grin. “I hoped I might find you here. When Allowyn and I returned to his camp I thought you might have changed your mind and left the Enclave, but Allowyn was certain you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” Jonderill gave him a half smile but said nothing, making Tissian a little less certain. “May I join you? I’m rather in need of a large ale.”

  Jonderill thought of refusing but that would have been churlish and besides Tissian really did look like he needed to sit down. His hair was wet again and its darkness contrasted against his very pale skin. Whilst he’d changed his clothes from the ones he’d worn to penance, there were sweat marks on his dark shirt. A large bruise was starting to blossom on his left cheek, and his hands, which looked like they were propping him up at the table’s edge shook slightly.

  “I think you’d better sit down before you fall down,” said Jonderill as he waved to the pot boy for more ale. “You look awful. Was it very bad?”

  Tissian sat, wincing slightly at having to bend his legs and then sighing in relief as he stretched them out in front of him. The pot boy arrived with two pots of dark, brown ale and Tissian emptied one without stopping. Jonderill pushed the second one in his direction and Tissian took two large gulps before putting the pot back on the table with a look of satisfaction.

  “Allowyn is a hard task master and has worked me all day without a rest. I think if he’d made me run around that field one more time I would have dropped at his feet and would never have got up again.” He took another gulp of ale.

  “What about the bruise?”

  “Oh, that.” He touched the side of his face gingerly. “That’s nothing; you should see the ones on my ribs.” He gave a small laugh and looked a bit sheepish. “We fought for a candle length without weapons and I was foolish enough to make a comment about losing speed and agility when you are past twenty summers. Unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough or agile enough to move out of the path of Allowyn’s right fist.”

  “And the ribs?”

  “Too slow defending myself with the pike-staff.”

  Jonderill shook his head. “Why do you do it? There must be easier ways of earning a living.”

  “There are but none that I want to do.” Jonderill shook his head again. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do; to be a protector. From the first day I came here at six summers old and the goddess spoke to me I’ve wanted to be just like Allowyn. He gave me my first sword and Callabris spoke up for me when the masters wanted to apprentice me to a weaver. I’ve trained every day since. Even when I have walked penance all day or I have been on guard duty I train and one day, if the goddess allows, I’ll be paired with a white robe and become his protector.”

  “It must be amazing to know with such certainty what it is you want to be.”

  “It is but I wouldn’t have known if the goddess hadn’t spoken to me.”

  “I wish she would speak to me then,” said Jonderill despondently as he drank down the last of his flat ale. “I might then have a clue about what I am going to be.”

  “Have you not heard the voice of the goddess?” asked Tissian in surprise. “I know that she hardly ever speaks to acolytes, not even someone like Gellidan who will be the next protector, but I thought that all those with magic would hear her words otherwise how would they know what their calling was?”

  “That could be my problem.” He waved to the pot boy who hurried over with another two pots of ale and a bowl of fish stew for Tissian.

  “Perhaps it is,” mused Tissian thoughtfully as he ladled the hot stew into his mouth. The pot boy returned with a small loaf of bread which Tissian used to mop up the sauce and clean the inside of the bowl. When he’d finished he sat back with a look of mischief on his face and gave Jonderill a big grin.

  “I think you need to hear what the goddess has to say to you and as the High Master has not arranged for you to enter the goddess’s sanctuary to speak with Federa then I think the task will have to fall to me.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” said Jonderill doubtfully. “Won’t you get into trouble?”

  “I’ll only get into trouble if someone finds out.” He gave an excited laugh “Come on Jonderill, I think we should do it tonight, right now. What do you say? Shall we go and find out what the goddess has planned for you? At least then you will know if you should stay or not.”

  Jonderill thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Let’s do it then, but how do we get into the temple, it must be guarded or something?”

  “Well, that’s where you come in. You’ll have to use your magic to open the doors.”

  “If I could do that I wouldn’t need to go into the temple, would I?” He thought about it for a moment and then grinned. “I might not be able to open doors but I have something in my room which can.” He pushed his chair back swaying slightly from the effect of the strong ale. “Come on!”

  Jonderill led the way out of the inn and up the stairs to his room where he took Plantagenet’s old iron blade from under the bed where he kept it. It felt strangely heavy and awkward in his hand and he felt a little dizzy as he held it at arm’s length. Tissian looked at him curiously but said nothing. Instead he led the way back down the stairs, past the front of the inn and into Smith’s Square.

  The square was lit by flickering torches which gave people enough light to find their way along the pathway but sent long shadows dancing up walls and filled the corners with darkness. Fortunately it was a moonless night and was still, quiet and late enough for most people to be home or eating at an inn. Tissian led the way around the edge of the square keeping to the shadows. Half way around Jonderill stopped him so he could turn back to see if he was being followed, but the armsman that Allowyn had sent to watch over him had gone off somewhere else. They took one of the turnings off the square almost opposite the pathway which lead to the inn and keeping to the side streets and shadows they made their way across the city until they reached the wide area of marble paving which surrounded the temple.

  Jonderill hadn’t been back to the temple since the day he had arrived at the Enclave and, in the darkness, the looming building looked even more forbidding than it had in the long afternoon he’d stood outside its walls watching people passing by. Tissian led them to a place about a quarter of the way around the building where the marble pathway was quite narrow and they couldn’t be seen from the front entrance with its massive doors and the night time guards.

  “One of the advantages of having spent so many days walking penance around the temple,” whispered Tissian, “is that you get to study every block of stone and every mortared joint in detail.”

  He grinned at Jonderill, took a quick look around to make sure that there was nobody about, and scuttled across the marble pathway until he was pressed tightly against the temple inside one of the small alcoves carved into the wall. Jonderill followed him in, cursing under his breath as the old iron blade clattered against the stone. They froze but nobody came to investigate the noise.

  “I think this is a hidden door,” whispered Tissian. “The jointing is a shade lighter than th
e rest of the wall and when you touch it the stone is warm.” Jonderill felt the stone and nodded in agreement. “Can you open it?”

  Jonderill shrugged and turned to face the wall. If it was a door there was no sign of a handle or hinges and when he ran his hand across the surface he couldn’t feel any cracks where the door might meet the wall. He pulled the old iron blade from beneath his jerkin and held it firmly in his hand. Plantagenet had assured him that there was no magic in the blade and that it was just an old, disused iron sword, but he knew that it had opened all the doors in Maladran’s tower when he had needed it to. He muttered a quick prayer for the goddesses help and pressed his hand which held the blade against the stone wall. With a small click the door swung open.

  As before he was so surprised at what had happened that he nearly fell over, but Tissian grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him firmly through the doorway. Once they were on the other side the door closed gently behind them with barely a sound. If they had thought it was dark outside it was nothing compared to the total blackness of where they stood inside the temple. Hesitantly, not being sure that it would work, Jonderill gathered his focus and a small ball of white light appeared in the palm of his out stretched hand and lit up a long corridor.

  “Where do we go now?”

  “The only entrance to Federa’s sanctuary that I know of is through the High Master’s room, it was the way I was taken when I went there. Do you think you can open the door, it might be warded?”

  “The outside door was warded and that opened okay so it shouldn’t be a problem. Do you know how we get there?”

  Tissian nodded and led the way along the corridor, the light from Jonderill’s flame lighting up a small space around them and leaving the rest in darkness as they made their way forward. The end of the corridor opened into the large hallway which he remembered from his previous visit. His light was not bright enough to reach across the hallway and he wondered if there might be guards hiding in the dark. If there was then their game was up. Carefully they followed the wall around until they came to the door to Razarin’s rooms. Jonderill gripped the iron blade tightly as he pushed against the door and the door gave a small click and swung open.

  The room looked different in the half light, less comfortable and welcoming and more sinister, as if unfriendly eyes were watching from the shadows. Jonderill made his way around the upright chairs and past the soft chairs by the hearth where he had sat and talked to the High Master. Tissian stopped to stare at a shelf full of books and beckoned Jonderill to join him. To Jonderill the bookshelf looked like all the others, neatly stacked with rows of books and small piles of scrolls but Tissian was running his hands around the edge with an excited look on his face.

  “This is it! The goddess’s sanctuary is behind here.”

  He stepped back to give Jonderill more room and Jonderill moved forward and pressed the hand which was holding the blade to the edge of the bookcase. Blue and silver sparks ran across his hand and an intense pain, as if he had been burnt, shot up his arm. He gasped in surprise, rapidly pulled his hand back and dropped the blade onto the carpeted floor with a loud thud.

  “Blast! That hurt!”

  He clutched his tingling hand to his chest and rubbed his numb arm vigorously whilst Tissian picked up the blade and handed it back to him. “Have another go. The warding has probably broken now.”

  Jonderill took the sword in his other hand and slowly moved it to the edge of the book case. As he did so his hand started to tingle and his arm ache. Both grew worse the closer he came to the hidden door. He stopped before his hand touched the bookcase and watched as small sparks jumped from the blade onto the hidden door. He moved the blade away and his hand and arm returned to normal.

  “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “I think you’re right, but it’s a pity to have come so far and not be able to get through the last door.” They both looked disappointedly at the bookcase and Jonderill turned to go but as he took a step away he felt dizzy and the room lurched around him making him stagger back and clutch at the wall.

  “Are you okay?” asked Tissian in concern.

  Jonderill turned back to the bookcase and shook his head to get rid of the buzzing that was reverberating through his head. “Here, take this.” He handed the sword to Tissian, placed a hand on the edge of the bookcase and with a loud click it swung open in front of him.

  “Hellden’s balls!” muttered Tissian to himself as he followed Jonderill into the goddess’s sanctuary. The door closed silently behind them.

  If Jonderill had an image in his mind of what a sacred sanctuary should look like, then it was nothing like this. The room was circular and much smaller than the red metal dome which glowed with a dull bronze light far above. Its light reflected off the walls giving them a faintly pink hue and making the crystals in the stone sparkle and shimmer. Despite the bronze light from above, the floor remained pristine white and glowed like fresh snow in sunlight. Jonderill looked around for the source of the light but couldn’t find any lamps or candles. He clicked his fingers and the ball of elemental fire at his shoulder went out but the light in the sanctuary remained unchanged.

  In the centre of the room, under the apex of the dome, stood a single pedestal of stone which rose to around waist height. It was plain and unremarkable except that its surface was silky smooth and one half was black and the other half white. A single crimson disk was embedded in its centre. Around the pedestal, spaced evenly apart, stood five chairs made of golden weiswald but without any carving or decoration. A sixth chair lay broken into small pieces on the floor. Apart from that the room was empty and the silence so complete that Jonderill could hear Tissian breathing and the sound of his own heartbeat.

  “What do we do now?” whispered Jonderill, his voice sounding small and strange in the open space.

  “When I came here the High Master put his hand on that pedestal and the goddess spoke to me. Perhaps you should do the same.”

  “I’m not the High Master.” replied Jonderill with a frown but despite his denial it did feel the right thing to do. He moved to the centre of the room, stared down at the top of the pedestal and then hesitantly back at Tissian. Tissian nodded in encouragement and Jonderill slowly placed his hands on either side of the pedestal’s smooth surface. For a moment nothing happened and then the light increased in brilliance and a woman’s soft voice echoed around the room.

  “Callistares, you have made your way to me

  at last. I have waited so long to bless the one

  I have chosen but now our time together must

  be brief. You must leave this place if you are to

  keep your freedom, and you must keep your

  freedom if you are to discover who you are.

  Your road is a difficult one Callistares, difficult

  and filled with pain but when you truly know

  what you are, you will learn the reason for

  the task that has been set for you. Only then

  will you understand why it was necessary

  to cause you such hurt.

  Now go, and know in the darkest of times,

  when all that you were has been taken

  from you and you are no more,

  that I am the light and I am always with you.

  The light faded and Jonderill removed his hands.

  “What was all that about?” asked Tissian. “Who is this Callistares? When the goddess spoke to me she called me by my name. You don’t think you got someone else’s message by mistake do you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anyone called Callistares.”

  “Well, if I were you, I would be grateful that you’re not this Callistares bloke, it sounds like his future is not very bright.”

  “I think you’re right.” said Jonderill thoughtfully and then laughed. “Well, at least this has solved a problem for me. The goddess clearly didn’t want to speak to me did she? So I guess that means that I’m not going to be
a magician after all. In which case I will take her advice and I will leave the Enclave tomorrow.”

  “I’m really sorry Jonderill. I thought that would help.”

  “Don’t be. As I told you I’ve always wanted to travel to Tarbis and see the Great Southern Ocean and now there is nothing to hold me back.

  Jonderill turned away from the altar and the brilliant light faded. Across the room the door clicked and swung open and his ball of elemental light suddenly appeared above his shoulder without being bidden.

  “I think that is our cue to go,” said Tissian. “Come on.”

  Tissian lead the way through the sanctuary door with Jonderill following behind. He stopped at the door and looked back at the altar, almost hoping that the goddess would call him back but the room remained silent. He stepped into the High Master’s room and the door shut quietly behind him. Tissian had almost reached the door into the hallway when Jonderill called him back.