The White Robe (The Sword and the Spell)

by Clare Smith

  “Allowyn, stay here with Tissian,” ordered Callabris. He stepped through the doorway closing it firmly behind him and looking Jonderill up and down. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said to you this morning, boy?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” replied Jonderill, trying to look innocent.

  Don’t lie to me, Jonderill. You don’t get backlash from lying in your bed asleep.” He gave a sigh and shook his head. “Borman is a malicious and vengeful man. If he finds out for definite that it was you who set the prisoners free, he will not spare you just because you have some magic. Jonderill, listen to me. If you value your life and your freedom do nothing else to anger him. Please, just stay in your room and out of the way until all this has passed.” He turned back to the door.

  “Callabris, I had to do it. One of them, Jarrul, was my friend. I couldn’t just stand by and let a friend die could I?”

  Callabris sighed again but didn’t turn back. Instead he gripped his hands behind him, flexed his fingers and muttered something under his breath. “You’re wrong, Jonderill, and one day, you’ll learn the lesson that a magician has no friends.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Deceptions

  Vorgret preferred to eat alone. If you invited others to eat with you they expected you to converse with them, instead of concentrating on the task in hand, and invariably, they took the choicest cuts of meat, leaving you with the gristle. Sadrin was different of course; he always let his master have the best pieces and was content to have whatever was left, but Vorgret supposed it was his upbringing; when you have starved for most of your life any food is good food. Unfortunately it wasn’t Sadrin who sat opposite him, and the man had taken the very piece of meat that he’d had his eye on. He would have had the man thrown out if he could, but there were some people who even he, King of Essenland, could not afford to offend. He tried not to glower as High Master Razarin pushed his plate aside with the choice piece of meat untouched.

  “Your Eminence, it’s an honour that you have come in person to offer your condolences on the death of my cousin, particularly as I understand that the High Master can never leave the Enclave without endangering themselves.”

  For once Razarin was not wearing his crimson robes of office, but wore heavy wool travelling clothes, which made him look even more sallow than usual. His eyes were red and sore from the road dust kicked up by his small party of escorts, and too many nights made sleepless by his worries. If it hadn’t been so important he would have never left the safety and comfort of the Enclave, and would have sent someone else, but this was something which had to be done in person.

  “It’s not prohibited, Your Majesty, just rarely done and then only when it’s a matter of the utmost importance or sensitivity which cannot be conveyed in writing.”

  Vorgret raised his eyebrows in question and stabbed another piece of meat. “I know my cousin’s position as the next protector made his death of more consequence than most, but I wouldn’t class it as of the utmost importance to the future of the six kingdoms.”

  “You are both correct and incorrect.” Razarin leaned across the table to emphasise his point. “Whilst Gellidan’s death is a sorrow to us both, he was just another young man with a sword. What is of critical importance is the demise of his position. I have reason to believe that Gellidan was not just the next protector in training, but the last that the Enclave will ever train.”

  Vorgret scowled as he thought through the implications, slowly chewing the bit of gristle which had been disguised as meat by the sauce. He gave up on it and spat it out onto his plate. “If that is so, then who will protect the white robes, or are they going to learn to protect themselves?”

  “Neither. There will be no white robes or black for that matter, I have been warned that their magic will disappear from the six kingdoms.”

  The king sat back in shock. “Surely that cannot be! What of Federa and the Enclave? You’re not trying to tell me that they will no longer exist are you?”

  Razarin shrugged.”It was the goddess herself who gave me this warning, and there’s more. The goddess warns that there is one who will not only be responsible for the demise of magic in our land, but will be the killer of kings as well, and because of him, the six kingdoms will be no more.”

  Vorgret looked stunned and stared at the High Master in disbelief. “Are you sure of this? Can anything be done?”

  The High Master sat back and took a long drink of wine, pleased at the impact his words had on the king. “I believe this can be prevented, which is why the goddess has given me a warning, and it’s why I have come to you. As you are aware, it’s not possible for me to leave the Enclave and the goddess’s temple for more than a few days; the effect on my magic would be disastrous, which means my ability to track down this killer of kings is limited.

  “You, on the other hand, are a man of power with the resources of a kingdom behind you. If you were to find and slay this demon, then the Enclave, and all the other kingdoms would be saved, and everyone would be in your debt. Your deeds would put you above the other kings, and they would have to bend the knee to you. The reputation that your father and his father had before him, would be overshadowed by the glory of what you have done.”

  Vorgret thought about what the High Master was offering him whilst he picked bits of meat from between his teeth with his dinner knife. The idea of him being greater than his grandfather, a revered hero of the six kingdoms, pleased him no end. “Do you know who this killer of kings is?”

  Razarin shook his head trying to keep the look of satisfaction from his face. “Not as such. I had at first thought it might be a king who would destroy the six kingdoms through conquest, and this may still be so, although I think it is unlikely. It’s much more likely to be a powerful wielder of magic, who has not learnt the ways of the goddess, or had the benefit of worshiping at her temple.”

  “You have someone in mind?”

  There are two possibilities. There is Sadrin, who you hold in confinement in your deepest mines, and Jonderill, who was responsible for your cousin’s death and has no master to limit him.”

  It was Vorgret’s turn to smile. Clearly the old fool had no idea that Sadrin was free and his servant to command. “I’ve heard of this Jonderill, but I didn’t realise he was a powerful magician.”

  Razarin shook his head. “It’s hard to tell. He didn’t show much promise during the short time he was at the Enclave, but not so long ago the goddess showed an unexpected interest in the boy, so it’s just possible that he has some hidden talent within him that hasn’t yet matured.”

  “I see. And what would you do with this Jonderill if I were to capture him and deliver him to you in chains?”

  “It would be best for all concerned if he and Sadrin, if he still lives, were both to die as soon as possible rather than sending them to the Enclave. You will appreciate that, as High Master, I could take no part in their deaths. Failing that, if Jonderill were confined in the depths of your silver mines, as Sadrin was, and both died of natural causes, they wouldn’t be in a position to pose a threat to either of us.”

  Vorgret pretended to consider the High Master’s proposition. “Should I do this it would, of course, place me at a serious disadvantage. My brother has the services of Plantagenet and Animus, and whilst they are inept and doddering, they’re still capable of concocting an enchantment between them. Then there is Borman. He has Callabris who, apart from you, is without a doubt the most powerful magician in the six kingdoms at this present time. You’ll understand my reluctance to leave myself so exposed based on something you believe might happen sometime in the future.”

  Razarin scowled in irritation. He wasn’t used to his requests being denied, particularly when they concerned his right to regulate the use of magic in the six kingdoms. Knowing that Vorgret was vicious and not too bright, he had hoped that he would have jumped at the chance to slaughter two renegade magicians and to be hailed a hero for it, but p
erhaps he had underestimated him. He hadn’t wanted to show his hand if he could help it, but if he was to achieve what he had come to do, then there seemed to be no other option, although he could twist the truth slightly.

  “There may be an alternative,” he said hesitantly. “Jonderill carries a torc with him, a device which was created by the goddess to control a black robe when their powers become too much for them to contain. If it were placed around the throat of a magician not yet come into his powers it would remove their ability to act for themselves but would still give them access to their magic to be used at your command.”

  The king gave a feral grin and Razarin did his best not to shudder. “What happens when the torc is removed?”

  “Removing the torc would have much the same effect as it does on a black robe except that when it’s removed it would destroy a white robe’s mind completely, instead of sending them into madness, as it does with a black. They would not be able to function and so the outcome for both is the same; if the torc is removed they would both die.”

  “A formidable weapon, is it not?” Vorgret suddenly pushed himself away from the table and stood, taking Razarin by surprise. “High Master, you have given me much to think about and decisions to make which cannot be made overnight. I suggest you retire now so you may be on your way at first light; it would be unsafe for you to be away from the Enclave for longer than is absolutely necessary, in case your magic is diminished or the goddess wishes to reveal more about this matter to you.”

  He opened the door in a clear act of dismissal. Razarin stood, irritated by being shown out in such a curt manner, but also relieved not to have to spend more time in Vorgret’s company than was necessary to obtain his cooperation. He bowed briefly and walked passed the king, barely clearing the door post before the door was slammed shut behind him.

  Vorgret stared at the closed door for a moment and then returned to the table pushing his dirty plate out of the way and pulling a platter of sweet pastries towards himself. He licked the cream and the fruit compote off the top of the largest one and dropped the pastry into the congealing meat sauce. Behind him, a panel in the wall slid open and Sadrin stepped through, his slave pattering behind him. Vorgret looked at the girl with irritation; he had given the boy the slave to bed, not to follow him around like a lost hound, and it annoyed him that the magician still didn’t seem to know what his prick was for. If he’d had a fancy for the girl he would have shown him what to do, there and then on the table, but there was something about her which put him off. After all, that’s why he’d given her as a gift to Sadrin in the first place.

  The young magician in his almost black robe bowed deeply and waited for his master to speak whilst the girl crept into a corner and curled into a small ball to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

  “Did you hear what the High Master had to say?”

  “Yes, master. He believes that I or this other one poses a danger to the six kingdoms, magic and the Enclave.”

  “Do you?”

  “No, My Lord, just to the High Master himself once you have given me leave to deal with him.”

  Vorgret laughed. His young black robe was full of vengeance against Razarin for what the High Master and his cronies had done to him, but that would have to wait, he had other tasks for Sadrin.

  “He also thinks that I still keep you confined in my silver mines; he would have a nasty surprise if he knew you were free and plotting his demise.” He pushed the platter of sweet pastries in Sadrin’s direction and poured them both some wine. “What do you think to his claim that someone will destroy the six kingdoms and its magic?”

  Sadrin shrugged and sipped at his wine. Vorgret thought that he knew everything but perhaps it was time to open his eyes and show him what Razarin was really like. “I think the High Master fabricates stories to flush out those who will not grovel at his feet. He knows he has no power over you but tries to manipulate you into doing his dirty work for him. His promise to you that you’ll be revered by the other kings if you remove two magicians and save the six kingdoms are lies. Razarin knows that all it will achieve is to make King Borman more powerful than he is already. If you have no magic to support you but Borman does, then Razarin will side with him and together they’ll attack Essenland and take everything you have built from you.”

  The king scowled and nodded. “You’re right; the man’s as slippery as a sand crawler, but what if I were to become more powerful than both of them? What if I had two magicians, you and Jonderill? A black and a white working together; what a combination that would be. With the two of you I would be the most powerful king in the six kingdoms; greater than my father and grandfather put together, then the other kings would have to bow down to me.” He swallowed back his drink, his eyes wide with excitement.

  “Taking a white robe that does not wish to serve, without destroying him, will not be that easy, My Lord.”

  “For a man it won’t be, but for another magician, especially one with the power of a black, the task would be simple and even if it’s not, there’s always the torc Razarin spoke of. With that around his throat he would be mine to control.” He clapped the black robe on his back. “Sadrin, you must leave immediately, take whatever you need and find Jonderill and bring him back here to me.”

  “Are you sure this is wise, My Lord? The other kings may feel threatened if you have the use of two magicians. They may join against you for such a move.”

  “Fuck them! This is just the chance I’ve been waiting for. I want you on the way by sunrise. Head towards Alewinder, that’s where he was last seen.” He laughed and slapped Sadrin on the back again. “That will please my brother and his incestuous bitch; they wanted me to deal with Jonderill, but perhaps not quite like this. Now I’m going to wake Razarin from his dreams and tell him the good news that I am going to deal with his problem and you can help yourself to dinner.”

  He slapped Sadrin on the back one last time and left singing a crude soldier’s song at the top of his voice. Sadrin waited until the song had faded away to nothing, staring down at the cold food on the table and then clicked his fingers. In the corner his slave stood and hurried over to him and took the sweet pastry he held out to her. She nibbled it delicately at the edges like a squeaker with a morsel of cheese until it was all gone.

  “Will you do this thing, master?”

  Sadrin nodded. “I have been commanded to do so.”

  “But if you bring this one with magic back here then you’ll have to share your master’s affections with another. A time might come when your master might prefer a white robe to a black and will set him up as the next High Master instead of you.” Sadrin gave her a hard look and she cringed slightly. “I’m sorry for these words, master, but this is what I have seen others do; a new toy is of more interest than an old one, which may be discarded on a whim. Should Jonderill be more willing to share your master’s bed than you have been, he may be preferred to you.”

  “You don’t share my bed and yet I still prefer you to others.”

  “That is true, master, but as I have told you, I have special skills that you may find of value, and apart from that, you don’t have the appetites of your king.”

  “You have a good point there and I’ll think about it, but before I can do anything, I have to track him down and that won’t be easy.”

  “Perhaps it’ll be easier than you think, master. If you take me with you, I’ll show you one of the special skills you’ve bought with your forbearance, and if you aren’t pleased, you can take my body and fill it with your seed.”

  Sadrin smiled and gave her another pastry to seal their bargain. Either way he was going to win.

  *

  The day had been one of the happiest she could remember, far better than anything from her childhood and far, far better than being a queen. They had spent it together in the small paddock with its emerald grass and colourful flowers playing silly games, almost as if they were children and free from the worries of an adult w
orld. They had even managed to persuade Captain Tangier to join in their game of hide and seek, not that there had been many places to hide in the paddock and all three of them had ended up rolling in the grass and holding their sides with laughter.

  When they were tired of playing games the beast had taken her exploring looking into the stables, barracks, kitchen and servants quarters and the few other places she had not yet discovered; only the forbidden corridor at the top of the stairs remained closed to her. They had ended the day sitting on a large rug in front of the fire in the room which must have once been a study but was now used by the beast as his day room. Much of the furniture bore claw marks and the carpet was torn in places but the fire and the thick rug made it cosy enough for her to ignore the damage.

  Tarraquin told him about her childhood, growing up believing that she was the High Lord of Leersland’s daughter, and how shocked she had been to find out she was adopted. She also told him of her life as a rebel hiding in the forests of Leersland, but for some reason she missed out the part about her having been a queen; it just didn’t seem to be the right time for such a revelation. As usual the beast said very little. Although his speech improved day by day, he remembered very little of his time before the enchantment and his past was closed to him.