She turned from the supply shelves. “Good morning. We’ll not likely see anyone new today, not with the snow so deep. Tomorrow will be different.”
Beltur nodded. There were always injuries after a winter northeaster. Absently, he wondered if it would be the same in spring or summer, when what fell was a deluge of water. “Then I’ll just look at Klaznyt and Wurfael and the others. How long do you think it will be before Wurfael can be fitted for a peg leg?”
“He’s healing well, but it will likely be at least another eightday, probably two. See what you can do with Klaznyt. He makes Wurfael seem cheerful.”
“You don’t care much for him, do you?”
“Gamblers always come to a bad end, either murdered or dying alone without even a copper for lager. I could care less about what they do to themselves, but they hurt everyone, most of all those who love them or those who try to help them.”
“It sounds like a few have passed through the healing house.”
“More often, it’s the ones they’ve hurt, one way or another.” Herrara paused, then added, “Not all gambling deals with plaques or silvers, Beltur.”
Beltur nodded. “I’ve understood that for a long time. Sometimes, life only offers you a choice of risks.” He picked up one of the baskets of supplies before leaving the room, heading down the corridor.
Klaznyt barely looked up as Beltur entered his chamber. Each of the crippled plaque player’s splinted hands rested on a small pillow.
Beltur walked to his bedside and let his senses range over the injured hands. As Jessyla had suspected, there were more than a few spots of yellowish-red wound chaos growing around the broken bones. He concentrated on the largest patch of wound chaos.
“That burns,” said Klaznyt. “Why do you bother?”
“So that you’ll get better.”
“I’ll be fortunate to be able to hold a staff or a broom. That’s no kind of life.”
“What kind of life is it where people try to pound your hands to a pulp?”
“It’s the only way I know to make a decent living.”
“Decent? Gambling with plaques looks dangerous to me.”
“Living is dangerous, Mage. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”
“I should have said ‘unnecessarily dangerous.’” Beltur continued to gather and focus free order to remove the largest and ugliest points of chaos.
“You folks around here walk around like you’ve got a staff up your backside. So frigging straight and upright.”
“It sounds like you’re not from Axalt. Where’s home for you?”
“It’s not like I’ve ever had a home. Not in years. Grew up in Worrak.”
That didn’t surprise Beltur, not with the little he’d heard about the port city, supposedly controlled, if indirectly, by pirates. “Is Worrak as bad as some say?”
“It’s like any other city. You have to know who has the real power.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I didn’t learn the difference between silvers and power quick enough.”
“From what I’ve seen,” answered Beltur, “silvers are just another kind of power, like weapons or magery.”
“Power and magery are direct. Silvers aren’t.” Klaznyt laughed, a harsh and sardonic sound. “They’re also a shield for those who don’t want their power known.”
As are councils and councilors, Beltur thought as he stepped back. “Your hands will be warmer for a little while. They should cool in a quint. They might not hurt quite so much then.”
“You’ve more power than most, Mage. Why don’t you use it to better yourself?”
Beltur was glad he’d already considered that question. “Because I don’t have enough silvers or enough support from other mages to hold off those that the use of power would anger.” Yet.
Klaznyt offered another short burst of laughter. “Thinking that way, you’ll never have enough power or silvers. You have to know when to gamble and when not to.” He grimaced. “Sometimes—like now—I’ve not judged well. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong. It just means I judged unwisely.”
“Sometimes we don’t have a choice.”
“We always have choices. Sometimes, all of them are bad. And, sometimes, not very often, none of them are bad.” Klaznyt forced a smile. “You’ve done all you can for me right now, Mage. Go tend to the others.”
“I’ll be back later.” Beltur inclined his head, then made his way to Wurfael’s room.
The timberman actually smiled as Beltur entered. “Good morning, ser.”
“How are you doing today?”
“Better, ser. An old tinsmith came to see me yesterday. He thinks I might be able to help him.”
“That’s very good. How do you know him?”
The young timberman grinned. “I don’t. The head healer told him about me. I think she must know a lot of folks.”
“I haven’t been working here that long, but I’ve gotten that feeling.” Beltur used his senses to study Wurfael’s leg, but could find no new wound chaos, and less of the dull, almost grayish red that signified something nearly healed. “You’re doing much better.”
After leaving Wurfael, Beltur made his way through the rest of the rooms, dealing with small bits of wound chaos where it would help. It was close to noon when he returned to the supply room. There he began to check the shelves, making certain that chaos hadn’t infiltrated the dressings stored there. He’d been working at that for little more than a quint when Lhadoraak appeared in the doorway. Beltur immediately sensed the almost chaotic flow of order around the blond mage. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
Turning from the shelves, Beltur frowned, worrying about what could have gone wrong, since he couldn’t think of any other reason for Lhadoraak to come looking for him. “Has something happened to Jessyla … or Taelya or Tulya?”
“No, they’re all fine.”
“Then … why…?”
“I just got a message from Naerkaal. You’re supposed to accompany me to meet with him at fourth glass.” Lhadoraak extended a single sheet of note paper.
From the traces of brown wax, Beltur could see that the paper had been not only folded, but sealed, at least until Lhadoraak had broken the seal. He unfolded the sheet and read.
Mage Lhadoraak—
You are requested to bring Mage-Healer Beltur with you so that both of you may meet with Mage-Councilor Naerkaal at fourth glass this afternoon.
For the Council.
There was no signature, only a seal.
Beltur looked to Lhadoraak. “Did the messenger say anything at all about the message?”
“I asked. He didn’t know what the note said.”
“I can’t say that I like this.”
“Neither do I,” replied Lhadoraak. “Do you have any idea what it’s about?”
“Not really. The Axalt Council already has to know that I’m a fugitive from Elparta. I told the border guards. I’ve told Herrara and Barrynt. Axalt’s been a refuge for many over the years. You told them why you and your family came. Why would two black mages be a problem? I’ve been doing good work here. That’s what Herrara’s told me, and she wasn’t lying.”
“What about Cohndar and Waensyn?”
“They’re likely still missing. It’s been snowing for eightdays since they disappeared. If it were spring…”
Lhadoraak nodded slowly. “I still worry.”
“So do I. I’ll meet you outside the Council building just before fourth glass.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“It shouldn’t be. It’s a summons from the Council, and I’ll only be leaving two quints before I’d normally get off.”
“You’re sure…?”
“I’m sure.”
After Lhadoraak left, Beltur finished his inspection, then walked to Herrara’s study.
She looked up. “The other mage was here. What was that about?”
“He and I have been summoned to meet wit
h Councilor Naerkaal at fourth glass. The message from the Council didn’t say why.”
The healer frowned. “Naerkaal was here yesterday. He was asking about you. He’d heard that one of my healers was also a mage. He wanted to know how good a healer you were. I told him the truth, that you were one of the best younger healers I’ve ever seen, and that you’d likely become one of the very best if you continued as a healer.”
“Did he ask about Jessyla?”
“Not a word. Did you do something to concern Naerkaal?”
“I told you why we had to leave Elparta. I’ve done nothing but help the smith Jorhan and help you here since we came to Axalt.”
“I told Naerkaal what you told me. He said that there was more, but that most of it didn’t concern you or your consort.”
Beltur frowned. “I can’t believe that Lhadoraak could possibly have done anything.”
Herrara offered an amused smile. “That’s another of your absolutely ordered statements. It suggests that if anyone should be of concern to the Council, it’s not your friend.”
“I don’t think either of us should be of concern to Axalt.”
“Could you say that of Elparta?”
“No … but that’s why we’re here and not there.”
Herrara shook her head, then said, “Don’t argue with Naerkaal. He won’t listen. Most of them won’t.”
“How do you deal with them, then?”
“I try to anticipate and bring up things before they have a chance to make up their minds. That way, they don’t have to change them. Most times, they won’t.”
“And you don’t ask permission if you think it’s within your responsibility.”
“Why should I? That’s what responsibility means.”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“Don’t be late, and don’t offer any statement to Naerkaal that isn’t absolutely true.”
“I’ll leave at two quints before the glass, then.”
“Make it a little earlier.”
“Thank you.”
“How are Klaznyt’s hands?”
The question told Beltur that Herrara had said all she would about the Council. “I need to go back and remove more of the wound chaos this afternoon. It’s still manageable.”
“Good.” Herrara stood. “I’m going to meet Elisa in the welcoming room.”
“Do you need me?”
“Not unless someone arrives and needs surgery.”
Beltur nodded, then eased his way out of the study, making his way to Klaznyt’s room.
Following Herrara’s suggestion, Beltur left at two quints past third glass. Even so, he only made it to the front door of the Council building at about half a quint before fourth glass.
Lhadoraak stopped his pacing and looked up.
“Where are we supposed to go?” asked Beltur.
“The main Council room, I think.”
Beltur nodded toward the door, suggesting Lhadoraak lead the way, then followed the older mage inside.
A guard stood before the closed door to the Council chamber. He studied the two. “You’re the mages?”
“We are,” replied Beltur.
“Just a moment, sers.” The guard opened the door and stepped inside the chamber, quickly closing it behind himself.
“A guard, yet?” said Lhadoraak.
“That might be just to keep people from intruding.” Beltur certainly hoped that was the case, but, then again, one guard certainly couldn’t restrain or hold two black mages.
Close to half a quint passed before the guard returned, again closing the door quickly. He looked first to Beltur, then Lhadoraak.
“You may enter, sers. Just walk up to the dais and wait for the councilor to address you.”
Beltur decided against full cloaking shields, because that would definitely send the wrong message to Naerkaal, but as soon as he entered the Council chamber, he almost froze. All eleven councilors already sat in place behind the long table, but this time Naerkaal sat in the middle position, as the head councilor. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good.
When they reached the foot of the dais, Beltur stepped up beside Lhadoraak on his left.
Naerkaal said nothing.
Neither did either Beltur or Lhadoraak.
Beltur could feel Naerkaal’s sensing of both of them.
Finally, the mage-councilor spoke. “Axalt has always served as a refuge for those who have fled the excesses of other lands, particularly for mages and others of an orderly persuasion. Both of you sought that refuge, and you did not conceal that you were fugitives. There is some question as to whether you concealed other matters.” He looked directly at Beltur. “You, Beltur, are not only a black mage, but a healer of considerable skill. Is that not so?”
“I am a black mage, and I have some talent in healing. The degree of that talent is better assessed by Healer Herrara, although I do have some abilities that other healers do not.” Beltur felt that he had answered that question fairly and honestly.
Several other councilors looked to Naerkaal.
“His response is truthful and without qualification or evasion,” said the acting head councilor who looked to Lhadoraak. “You, Lhadoraak, are a black mage of moderate ability. Is that so?”
“It is.”
“The Council recently received a dispatch from the Traders’ Council of Spidlar. We seldom receive such communication. The last time was over a year ago. This dispatch claimed that you, Beltur, attacked and dispatched two black mages, kidnapped a healer, and fled to Axalt to escape punishment. Is this true?”
“I fled to Axalt to escape the efforts of the Council to either kill or permanently indenture me. That is true. I did not kidnap the healer. She insisted that she accompany me and become my consort. An older black mage was forcing his attentions on her. Those attentions were unwelcome.”
“So far, everything Beltur has said is in perfect order.” Naerkaal cleared his throat. “Did you attack two black mages?”
“No. They attacked me and Jorhan, the smith with whom I had been working. Their intent was not to restrain me, but to kill me. The two mages were the head of the mage council of Elparta and his chief assistant. That assistant was the mage who tried to press his attentions on my consort.”
“Before she was your consort?”
“Yes, but we were promised to each other.”
Again, the other councilors looked to Naerkaal, who nodded and said, “The mage has not uttered any untruths.” Then he asked, “What happened to the two mages?”
“I tried to hold them both in containments.”
“Both of them? At once?”
“I did. I learned to use multiple containments as a City Patrol mage in Elparta.”
“What happened?”
“I held the containments too long.”
“They died?”
“They did.”
A momentary frown crossed Naerkaal’s face, but he immediately said, “The Traders’ Council only wrote that the two mages were missing and presumably killed.”
“I hid the bodies where they will not be found until spring. I needed the time to rescue my healer and leave Elparta before others discovered what had happened.”
Naerkaal nodded, adding, again, “He has spoken the truth. Are there any questions for Mage Beltur?”
“How did you feel about your acts, Mage?”
Beltur didn’t know the man who asked the question, but he answered as if Naerkaal had asked. “I’m angry that I was forced into a position where the only thing I could do to save myself and keep my consort from being abused by Waensyn was to try to stop them, and that my efforts to restrain them resulted in their deaths.”
“You don’t regret their deaths?” asked Naerkaal.
“No. I regret that I was forced into that position. I regret that they were so consumed with getting what they wanted that they didn’t even consider the effects of their actions.”
“What do you mean by that?” Naerkaal
seemed honestly curious.
“If I had not done what I did, I would be dead, and Jessyla would be the slave and consort of one of them. I did what I did, and they’re dead, and we had to flee. Either way, the outcome could not have been good. It is likely that the Prefect will again try to attack Elparta. The city now has three fewer strong black mages because one of them wanted to force a woman who did not want him and thought that killing the mage whom she loves would gain him what he wanted.”
“Killing is still killing,” said one of the councilors.
“It is,” replied Beltur, “but even Relyn found it necessary to reach the safety of Axalt.”
A flicker of a smile crossed Naerkaal’s face before he said, “The mage Beltur has been truthful. He has not concealed anything. Shall we move on? Does anyone object?” Seeing no objections, he looked to Lhadoraak.
“Lhadoraak, the dispatch from the Traders’ Council stated that you were not exiled, but that you chose to leave, rather than submit to an order of the Council. Is this true?”
“It is true. It is also misleading to the point of being false.”
“Please explain that for us.”
“My consort and I were not exiled. That is true. The Council exiled my young daughter. She’s barely seven. She is hardly old enough to make her own way in the world, especially in the middle of winter.”
“For what reason was she exiled?”
“The Council declared that she is a white mage.”
Beltur could see that the declaration about Taelya came as no surprise to any of the Council, indicating that the dispatch from the Traders’ Council had revealed that. Given that, he had to wonder why Naerkaal had asked the questions he had.
“Were you aware that the laws of Axalt do not permit a known white mage to remain permanently in Axalt?”
“I was not. I had not heard that until this moment.”
“Did you even consider that possibility?”
“We had no choice. She was given an eightday to leave Elparta, and no more than two eightdays to leave Spidlar. The river was frozen over, and we could not have reached Spidlaria in that time in winter. Going to Gallos would have meant my death, and we could not have reached any other place within the time required. I had hoped that Axalt would be more merciful than Spidlar.”
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