The White Robe (The Sword and the Spell)

by Clare Smith

  “This is Dozo, an armsman from the Enclave who has been of great service to us, and who, I regret, through no fault of his own, cannot return to the Enclave so seeks a new position, and Tissian, Jonderill’s protector.”

  Callabris raised an eyebrow. “Ah, Allowyn, he reminds me of you and your brother when you were his age, always cut and bloodied from one fight or another. Come, I have a small suite of rooms just big enough to hold us all if we all breathe in at the same time. However I regret that we will have to find alternative sleeping accommodation for most of you; the hospitality here is not what it was in Steppen’s day.”

  For a moment his smile disappeared and he gave Allowyn a brief look of concern. “Once you are rested, Jonderill, you’ll need to pay your respects to the Queen and Pellum; that’s if he has returned from the latest hunting trip, and I expect there are others you would wish to see.” He turned and led the way up the steps of the palace and the others followed behind.

  In all the time that Jonderill had spent in Alewinder as the magician’s apprentice, he had only been into the main part of the palace a handful of times. The last occasion had been when he had woken the princess with a kiss, and she had ordered his arrest and imprisonment. It was not a happy memory. Despite this, Jonderill couldn’t help being awed by the splendour of the palace with its walls the colour of fresh honey bedecked with rich tapestries, and he tried hard not to gawk like a page boy at his first banquet. They turned a corner into what Jonderill thought must be the guest wing and stopped as there was a commotion up ahead.

  Two elderly men, one tall and thin and the other small and round bustled along the corridor towards them pushing passed two maids who were sweeping the floor, bowling over another who was carrying a bundle of linens and ignoring Callabris completely. They both threw their arms around Jonderill nearly knocking him from his feet. He hadn’t been sure how he would feel when he saw his two old masters again, but his tears of joy were mingled with theirs. After a few moments they disentangled themselves with much laughing and very little dignity and stood there grinning at each other like fools.

  It was Plantagenet who regained control of himself first. “My apologies, Lord Callabris, we have only just heard of Jonderill’s return and we wanted to get here before the Queen’s guards.”

  “She wasn’t very pleased when she heard that you were back,” put in Animus, “so we thought that if we warned you, you could take a short cut to her rooms so you could get to her first, which would look better than turning up with guards all around you.”

  “That was good thinking,” said Allowyn, “but I don’t think we should all go marching in on her. With what we have to tell Pellum, it wouldn’t be a good idea for Tissian to be present, especially in his current state.”

  Tissian took a belligerent step forward. “I cannot let my master go into danger without me at his side.”

  Callabris put a gently restraining hand on his arm and Tissian slumped slightly. “It’s all right, young fighting cock. Allowyn can protect us all until your strength has returned.” He pulled out a small key from inside the sleeve of his robe. “My rooms are at the end of the corridor and I have removed the ward on my door. Dozo, would you take Tissian there and lock the door behind you until I return. Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to lead the way, let’s go and see what her majesty has to say for herself before she forgets all protocol and her manners, and offends two visiting white robes.”

  Plantagenet and Animus turned and hurried away along the corridor with the tall magician taking long strides and Animus bouncing along behind him. Callabris followed behind and Jonderill and Allowyn brought up the rear. At the end of the corridor they turned left down a narrower, less well appointed passageway, and then instead of taking some marble steps upwards, they ducked into the recess behind them. Here there were some well worn stone steps which went downwards and emptied into a pantry area. Tables lined one side of the small room and several trays held platters of delicate pastries, cut fruit and small flagons of cordial. The smell of baking bread and the clatter of pots came from nearby nudging at Jonderill’s memory. He had been to this room many times to collect treats for his masters’ afternoon tea.

  They hurried through the room and out into the next corridor with Animus picking up a soft, flaky pastry as they passed by. The service corridor led to another flight of stone stairs and another passageway with a solid wooden door at its end. Plantagenet stopped and straightened his robes and Animus brushed pastry crumbs from his fingers. They both gave Jonderill an anxious look before Plantagenet gave a sharp knock on the door in front of them.

  A liveried guard carrying a long pike opened the door and frowned at them. He went to bar their way with his pike staff but then stepped back with a grin on his face and looking slightly dazed. Callabris, who had hold of his arm, eased him backwards and propped him up against the wall before waving everyone else on. They marched up a corridor and around the corner where four heavily armed guards protected a small hallway with three doors leading off it. Jonderill knew that the centre door led to the Queen’s receiving room, although he had only been there once. On that memorable occasion, Daun had accused him of being Sarrat’s spy and Maladran’s catamite.

  Plantagenet came to a stop in front of the squad leader and pulled himself up to his full height. “We’ve come to see the Queen.”

  The guard looked him up and down with a sneer on his face. “Well the Queen doesn’t want to see you or your fat friend there so beat it!”

  Plantagenet deflated and took a hesitant step back. As he did so Callabris took his place with his protector one step behind him.

  “The Queen may not want to see my friends but she will see me and whoever I decide to bring with me. Now tell the Queen that I require an immediate audience.”

  The squad leader turned pale. Dismissing the two old magicians was one thing, but refusing access to a white robe was a completely different matter. He bowed deeply and hurried away. The group stood quietly waiting for his return, Callabris tapping his foot impatiently and Jonderill trying to console the affronted Plantagenet. Callabris’s impatience grew the longer he was kept waiting, and he was just about to storm into the Queen’s rooms without waiting any longer when the guard returned.

  He bowed low. “Their majesties will see you now, but your armsman and the two old magicians are to wait here.”

  “My protector stays at my side as do my friends. Now get out of my way.”

  Callabris pushed passed the squad leader who stepped hastily back from Allowyn as the protector waited for the others to file through into the receiving room. He followed them in and closed the door behind them before taking his customary place to the side and one step back from his master.

  Jonderill remained at the back of the group looking around the room and fighting back unpleasant memories, even though the room had changed since his summons here. There were more tapestries on the walls and more ornaments on the tables and dressers. The polished wooden floor had been covered over by a deep, richly patterned carpet and even the simple lantern brackets had been replaced by silver candle holders with dangling glass crystals. Where once there had been an assortment of soft chairs and couches spread around the room, there were now only two chairs, both carved ebon wood raised on a slight platform. Prince Pellum, the royal consort, slouched in one and Queen Daun sat bolt upright in the other glaring at Callabris.

  As Jonderill studied the Queen, he wasn’t sure how he felt about her. She was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and just looking at her made his heart race. He had cherished the memory of their time together in the woodsman’s cottage, and that one and only kiss, but now there was something about her which made his blood run cold. It was in the grim set of her mouth and the cold, calculating look in her eyes and the way in which she toyed with the small dagger in her hands. He had envied Pellum for what the Prince had taken from him, but now he felt a sudden relief at his escape. The feeling made him smile to himself and
stand up straighter.

  “Your Majesty, Your Highness, I wish to present Jonderill, magician of the white who has recently arrived from the Enclave of the goddess.”

  Jonderill stepped up next to Callabris and bowed briefly to the Queen.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded the Queen. “I sent the palace guard to bring you to me, I didn’t expect you to waltz in here uninvited, pretending to be a magician; and you, white robe, you will address the King as Your Majesty.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Jonderill, continuing to ignore Pellum. “It was most kind of you to send an escort for me, but it was unnecessary. As you know, I’ve been to these rooms before, and in any case, I had Plantagenet and Animus to show me the way.”

  “I didn’t send them to escort you, fool; I sent them to arrest you. I told you the last time we met, slave boy, never return to Vinmore again or I would execute you for a kidnapper and a murderer, and don’t think your fancy dress will save you from the headsman’s axe. Pellum! Call the guard!”

  Callabris took an angry step forward. “Madam, you forget yourself and your obligations. Jonderill is a magician of the white, and as such you have a duty to show him respect and to provide him with suitable accommodation.”

  “Him? A magician? You must be joking.” Pellum adjusted his position so he was sitting up more or less straight. “Everyone knows that he’s nothing more than an escaped kingsward from Leersland with a slave brand on his arm, unless, of course, he can show us some magic and prove to us he is a magician.” The Queen nodded in agreement and Jonderill looked anxiously at Callabris.

  “Prince Consort. White robes are not required to perform party tricks to entertain their hosts, nor are they accountable for any shortcomings of their birth or misdemeanours from before they came into their powers.”

  “Very convenient,” said the Queen sarcastically. “Very well he can stay, but as far as I’m concerned, he will always be a kidnapper and a felon, and the only accommodation I’m prepared to offer him is a windowless cell at the bottom of the keep. If I see his face again that’s where he will end up, whether he is a white robe or not.”

  She gave them a wave of dismissal with the knife still in her hand expecting them to leave but instead the protector stepped forward to his master’s side and gave a brief bow. The Queen glared at him.

  “Ah yes, I nearly forgot. My protector has a report he wishes to deliver to Prince Pellum. With your permission, Your Majesty?”

  Allowyn didn’t wait for her consent. “Your Highness, I regret to report the recent death of your cousin, Master Gellidan, who made an attempt on this white robe’s life and was killed in fair combat by his protector. His body has been returned to your brother in Vorglave, as was his wish.”

  Pellum leant forward angrily. “Where is the protector now? I’ll have his bloody balls for this.”

  Allowyn bristled angrily but Callabris put a restraining hand on his arm. “The protector has sustained some wounds and is in my care and will remain so until he is fit to return to his duties.”

  The Queen stabbed the small knife into the arm of the chair and glared at Callabris. “This is intolerable. Not only do you bring this criminal into my presence but you have the audacity to protect the killer of the King’s cousin. You have outstayed your welcome, white robe. You will leave the palace today and if I see your face again, you and Jonderill will share a cell, and the murderer you protect will be strung up by his heels and used for spear practice. Now get out before I call the guards!”

  “As you wish, madam.” Callabris gave the briefest of bows and pulled a barely constrained Allowyn away. Jonderill gave an equally brief bow and followed them out of the receiving room with the two old magicians fretfully bringing up the rear.

  “I’m sorry about your cousin, Pellum,” said the Queen when the door had been closed and they were alone. “Were you very close?”

  Pellum gave a derisive laugh. “No, not at all. The boy was an idiot and a bore, always going on about the goddess and how he was going to be the next protector. It was only a matter of time before someone shut him up. I just wish it hadn’t been a magician’s lackey who did it. They are so full of themselves, especially that Callabris; he has no respect for his betters. You heard him; he didn’t call me your majesty once.”

  “Magicians are all the same but it’s not that which galls me but the way those white robes come waltzing into my palace, making demands of me and ignoring my laws. I blame it on my father, he was too soft with them, but I won’t stand for it. I’ll find a way to humble them, especially that Jonderill.” Daun stood and paced the room with Pellum watching, once again slouched in his chair with one leg dangling over the side. “The problem is how do you take a white robe down when they can turn you into a green pond hopper with a flick of their fingers?”

  Pellum laughed. “That’s easy, you cut their hands off.” Daun stopped pacing and stared at him in surprise. “Honestly, that’s how you kill a white robe. My father told me how the Rale of Sandstrone took the throne from his brother after he had killed his white magician. He did it by cutting his hands off. You see, for some reason they can’t hold a weapon or fight so they can’t protect themselves and once you’ve taken their hands away they can’t use their magic against you.”

  “And what about their protector?”

  Pellum shrugged. “Send enough men against them and even a protector will die.”

  Daun shook her head and continued her pacing. “No, that would be too public; the people are superstitious and would be upset if we killed off one of their demi-gods. We need something more subtle.”

  Pellum thought about it for a moment. “What we need is a magician of our own, not like the two geriatrics that totter around the palace, but a black one; they don’t have any qualms about killing.”

  Daun stopped dead in her tracks, turned and marched up the dais to stand in front of her husband with her hands on her hips. “You dare to suggest having a black magician in my palace after what Maladran did to me! You’re a bloody idiot, Pellum.” She slapped him around the face and Pellum cringed back into his chair.

  “It was only a suggestion,” he muttered, rubbing the red mark on his cheek. “We don’t actually have to own one, we could just borrow one. My brother keeps a black robe as a pet. I’m sure he would lend it to us if we asked, and then we could give it back as soon as it had done what we wanted.” Daun continued to glare at him but the tenseness started to leave her body and her eyes lose their dangerous look. “If nothing else you could have your revenge on Jonderill. Just think of him dying in a pool of his own blood.”

  “Or better still dying slowly and in agony as a helpless cripple.” She smiled and sat back in her chair looking pleased with the thought. “Your idea has some merit but it does depend on your brother cooperating.”

  “It does. Shall I write to him today?”

  “Yes, but perhaps you should try to do something about Jonderill, just in case your brother is unhelpful and says no.”

  “I would like that.”

  Daun nodded in agreement and they smiled at each other.

  *

  “That didn’t go very well did it?” said Callabris as he took the only chair in the small bed chamber. It was the first words that had been spoken since they had left the audience room and returned to the magician’s small apartments.

  “I’m sorry, Callabris. It’s my fault, I should never have returned to Alewinder.” Jonderill was sitting on the bottom of the bed in which a pale and bandaged Tissian lay propped up by several large pillows.

  “Nonsense, it wasn’t your fault, my welcome here by Queen Daun and her consort has never been a warm one, so I’m not sorry to be leaving, although it is a bit inconvenient. I was hoping to spend some time with you exploring your gift, but the problem we have now is finding somewhere to do that in safety. We could go to Northshield, but I have no desire to return to King Borman’s court until he summons me, and I’m not welcome in Tarbis at the moment.
So that only leaves Essenland or Leersland and I don’t think either of those places would be healthy for you.”

  “That does restrict things somewhat,” laughed Jonderill.

  “Master Callabris,” interrupted Plantagenet from his place on the other side of the bed. “I think Animus and I may have a solution, although I hesitate to suggest it as the accommodation is not as grand as the palaces in which you usually stay.”

  “And the food won’t be so good either,” put in Animus from next to him.

  “But it is comfortable and private and has plenty of space for your protector to do his devotions.”

  “And it’s close enough to Alewinder to send you food supplies every seven day.”

  Jonderill groaned and they all looked at him questioningly. “The woodsman’s cottage. After four years of hiding there I had hoped to never see the place again but you’re right, it’s ideal. There’s room for us all and nobody will find us there.” He looked at the floor in disappointment.

  “And?” questioned Callabris.