Rotating the bon’a’lon again, I put the blade against his throat. “Lower your hand.”
With one eye on the weapon pressing against his neck, he slowly lowered the hand. “What are you going to do to me?” For the first time, fear was reflected in his voice. Imbecile! I was obviously a Mage; did he think he stood any chance of contending with me? I didn’t put much stock in his common sense, or his survival instincts.
I put my hand over the cut in his cheek. “I’m making you Jaunten,” I told him with sadistic cheer.
His eyes went wide with horror. “No! Don’t—”
I put my thumb onto the cut at that moment, putting my blood into his. He choked off, almost whining in the back of his throat. I caught his eyes with mine, making sure that he understood exactly what I was doing, and why I was doing it. “Now you will know what it is like to live at the mercy of others.”
His eyes rolled up in his head as he fainted. I quickly moved the bon’a’lon before he could cut his own throat as he dropped to the ground. I studied him for a moment in detached curiosity. In a few hours, he’d wake up with white hair and all of the knowledge of the Jaunten. He’d fully understand, then, just what he had done, and how stupid and pointless his actions had been.
I couldn’t think of a better punishment than that. Turning to the crowd, I pulled myself up to my full height, hoping I looked formidable. “I am the Advent Mage.” I paused a moment for that to sink into my audience’s psych. “I have marked this man as a warning to anyone who sees him, the penalty for harming someone who possesses magical ability. Anyone who touches him will answer directly to me!”
As ridiculous as my title was, this was one case where it might do some good. I felt a little silly calling myself that, but if it works, it works.
I turned my attention to more important matters, the woman and child who needed to be gotten to safety. I walked back to Night, touching him on the neck before I triggered the magic necessary to take us back to the earth path.
As we dropped into the earth, I looked up with a smile at my passengers. “Don’t worry, you won’t be hurt traveling like this. We’ll be at the Palace in a few minutes, and then we can tend to those burns. What are your names?”
“I-I am Dolanaslan,” the woman stammered. “This is my son, Dolanaralen.”
“Thank you for the gift of names,” I responded politely. We were too close to the Palace for me to say anything else. I brought us back up to the surface.
The courtyard I had left from was swarming with people now. Several of them shrieked, and leapt out of the way, as we emerged from the earth.
We were barely clear when Chatta pounced on me. There was no other word for it; she grabbed both shoulders and scanned me quickly. “You’re all right?”
“Furious,” I replied with a tight smile. “But I’m fine. This is Dolanaslan, and her son, Dolanaralen. She has burns on her feet that need to be tended to.” Turning sideways, I finished the introductions. “This is Witch L-Chattamoinita Delheart, a dear friend of mine. She’ll help heal those burns of yours.”
Chatta dipped a brief bow to them both. “A pleasure to meet you. Garth, bring her inside. I’ve prepared a room next to your family’s rooms.”
I nodded in understanding. Night was a sweetheart and bent slightly so that I didn’t have to stretch to reach Dolanaslan and her son. The young mother was still horribly embarrassed to have a virtual stranger handling her so familiarly, but I couldn’t let her walk on those feet.
I took her to the room that Chatta had prepared, sat her down, and then stayed out of the way. Healing was one of those things that I couldn’t really do. I could give a person more magical energy to heal faster, but that was about the extent of my ability in that area.
My mother has a psychic ability, of some sort, that clues her in when someone nearby is hurt. It’s the only explanation that I have, to begin to understand, how she can just suddenly appear in the room when she is needed. With both my mother and Chatta on the job, I was quickly becoming superfluous. I chose to leave, and update Guin on the current situation, instead of just standing around taking up valuable space and oxygen.
~*~
Guin was understandably perturbed by my report, but he was also delighted that I had been able to rescue them in time. “And how are mother and boy doing?”
“I think they’ll be fine.” With rest, and care, and time, they would get past what had happened today. At least, I hoped so.
“Are they Mages?” Guin looked unaccountably hopeful. Did he think all the Mages were hiding in Chahir?
I shook my head. “I doubt it, Sire. They felt like Witch and Wizard to me.”
Guin frowned, obviously not liking my answer. “But you’re not sure.”
“Mages feel different,” I explained patiently. The man was not going to win on this point. “They feel…more dynamic, I suppose is the best description. All Mages feel a little different from one another,” that part I was guessing on since Hevencoran felt different than Trev’nor did, “but the underlying feel is the same.”
I could see that he didn’t quite believe me, so I strove to put it into terms that he could understand. “To me, Mages feel like wood. No matter how many variations you come across, all wood feels the same. Witches or Wizards, on the other hand, feel like metal. You can’t mistake one for the other.”
He nodded a trifle reluctantly to accede the point. “Very well. You can’t blame me for wishing that you had rescued two more Mages today. Did anyone try to stop you from leaving?”
“One man,” I admitted easily. “He was the one that turned mother and child in.”
Guin regarded me with growing suspicion. “What did you do?”
“Turned him into a Jaunten.” I smiled blissfully at the memory. He made a very satisfying thump when he hit the ground.
Guin’s eyes went wide. “Garth…that’s evil.”
“You say that,” I pointed out dryly, “and yet you’re smiling.”
“Well, it was very appropriate. I can’t help but admire your unique sense of justice.” He shook off the approving smile to regard me more seriously. “Do you expect anything more to come of this?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “The villagers are too afraid that I might change them, too, I think.”
“Hm. Very well. Good work, Garth. I expect you to react in a similar fashion should this ever happen again. Empathy can be extremely educational.”
“Understood, Sire.” I gave him a brief bow, and removed myself, before my notoriously workaholic King could conjure up something else for me to do.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Politics
Have I mentioned before that ceremonial robes are very hot, uncomfortable, and ridiculously cumbersome?
Guin had ordered me to come to the formal negotiations that afternoon, and then with an evil glint in his eye, he had added “and make sure to dress the part.” I think misery likes company, personally, and if my King had to suffer in his robes, then he was going to make sure that someone else was suffering right along with him.
The man’s a brat.
After lunch, I struggled into my Earth Mage robes, and dragged myself up to the Royal Council Room in the main part of the Palace. The place was every bit as large and pretentious as the Council Room in the Hainian Palace, with the only difference being that this one was done in blues and gold instead of greens and gold. Dominating the room were three tables; one standing on either side, and of course, the main table for both Kings to sit at the head of the room. The tables were full of men and women, councilors, aids, advisors, Lords and Ladies of all ranks—and all of them dressed in hot, stifling clothes.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Dressing formally is fine, but does it have to be uncomfortable?
Guin had me come an hour late into the meeting, for whatever reason. I didn’t understand politics, and I had no desire to, so I hadn’t asked him many questions. When I entered the room, Guin looked up and nodded in acknowledgement. “I believe
that this man will settle the issue here and now.”
…come again? I bolted to a stop, halfway into the room, eyeing everyone around me warily. What was going on?
“How can any one man solve the issue, Your Majesty?” a slightly plump lord seated at the right table demanded in a harsh voice. “I tell you that magic in this country is dead. Whatever people who are supposedly ‘found’ only have sparks of power in them. There is nothing to discuss here!”
Hm. Guin had warned me that he had encountered some resistance to the idea of magic still being alive in my country, but I hadn’t realized that people were actually living in the land of denial to this degree. Well! This was easy to resolve.
Raising my head, I looked directly at the Lord who had spoken, pitching my voice so that it would carry around the room. “I am Rhebengarthen of Tobadorage, Earth Mage, and child of the Jaunten.”
You could have heard a fly sneeze because the silence was that absolute.
That crystalline silence only lasted a moment, and then everyone was murmuring at once, talking to each other behind hands or fans. All of their eyes were on me, however, and that was not a comfortable sensation. I strove to ignore it, turning my attention back to Guin and Vonlorisen, the King of Chahir. Guin was smiling, so I assumed that I had accomplished the desired effect he expected from me. Vonlorisen was frowning so fiercely, I expected to hear the sound of his molars shattering in his head.
“Mages do not exist,” Vonlorisen said firmly. His voice cut everyone else off in midsentence.
“I am the first born in over two hundred years,” I acknowledged with a courteous half-bow. “But I am not the only one. There are two other known Mages living in Del’Hain.”
“There are no Mages,” a lady to my left parroted in sneering tones, her thin nose lifted in the air with obvious distaste.
If I had been dealing with this sort of response for several days, I probably would have committed murder at this point. My respect for Guin raised a few notches, since he hadn’t even lost his temper yet.
I deliberately spread both of my hands out so that everyone could see them, and see that I did not hold anything. No wand, no tool of focus, nothing.
Then I cracked every stone tile of the floor, all at once.
People leaped to their feet and screamed, when the floor literally cracked beneath their feet. I admit I was sadistically entertained by watching previously dignified Lords and Ladies scramble onto the tables like panicked children.
“Garth,” Guin reproved dryly, “it’s not polite to ruin our host’s floor. Kindly repair the stone.”
Without twitching an eyelid, I did as bid and smoothed the cracks over again, making the floor better than new. I expected that to calm everyone back down, but it actually succeeded in causing a few of them to hyperventilate.
When all were back in their seats, and order had been more or less established, a distinguished Lord in dark burgundy rose to his feet. His dark eyes were solemn as they watched me. “Either this is a wonderful trick,” he stated with almost perfect neutrality, “or you are indeed what you say you are…Magus.”
The slight pause that he put before my title held the hint of disbelief, and the insult smarted. I glared at him, thinking rapidly. There was one thing that no Witch or Wizard could ever hope to do—earth travel. Since I had stone under my feet, I could do a short hop in the earth easily. I drew upon my power and sank into the earth, only to explode up again a few seconds later…this time nose to nose with the Lord who had just challenged me.
The assembled company jolted back as one into their chairs when I made my appearance into the room again. Most of them were staring at me with fear so tangible that I expected at least some of them to pass out cold. The Lord who had addressed me jerked back in alarm so violently, he lost his balance, upset his chair, and performed a perfect “Flying W” as he somersaulted over backwards. Lying on the floor, looking up at me, his face went absolutely ashen, as he came to a complete realization of what I had just done.
“I am, indeed, what I say I am,” I assured him with quiet menace.
“And can you prove that you are from Chahir?” Vonlorisen challenged in a ringing voice.
“I am from Tobadorage.” It was hard to keep the impatience from my voice. “My birth was recorded there, and until recently, my family lived there. We are well known in that area. Verify my story, if you wish; you will discover what I say remains true.”
I think he knew better than to push that line of attack any further. After all, it was obvious that I was from Chahir—I looked like my countrymen; I spoke like they did; I had all the mannerisms and expressions they used.
“An aberration, then,” Vonlorisen dismissed with an idle flick of his hand.
Guin snorted, a bit of impatience showing through. “Aberration? If you wish to call it that, fine, but you should know that I have welcomed twenty-three of those so-called aberrations into my country.”
Twenty-three? I blinked in surprise. I knew that others had come into Del’Hain from Chahir, but I had no idea that the number was so high.
“Over the past two hundred years, such a number is not impossible—” Vonlorisen retaliated in curt tones.
“That number is over the past year,” Guin interrupted coolly. The look in his eyes was now one of disgust.
The room fell quiet again—uncomfortably so. I wanted nothing more than to leave. I strove not to stir uncomfortably, or shift in place, which would have showed my nervousness. Showing any sign of weakness to these people would be the height of stupidity.
Guin turned to me and gave me a formal inclination of his head. "Thank you, Garth, for coming. I believe there are other more pressing tasks that require your unique attention?”
I was grateful for the cue to leave. With a polite bow to both Monarchs, I withdrew from the room in a dignified, if hurried, walk.
~*~
Have you ever walked into a room and known just by the expression on a woman's face that she was absolutely infuriated?
I came into my family's suite, took one look at my mother's face and felt the need to be elsewhere. Unfortunately, before I could back peddle into the other direction, she saw me and motioned me sharply to her side.
Reluctantly, I went to her, wondering all the while what I could have possibly done to get her upset with me. Nothing sprang to mind. "Yes?"
"It was her husband," my mother clipped out.
I blinked at this curt statement. Apparently I wasn't the one in trouble (which is a good thing), but I had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm sorry?"
"It was Dolanaslan's husband that turned her in," she clarified, face tightening with anger.
I stared at her in disbelief. I know that magical tolerance is very low in my country, but this…a husband turned in his own wife? "And the boy?" I demanded incredulously. "Why was her son condemned too?"
"Because he is her son," she answered in harsh tones.
So they didn't know of Dolanaralen's magical ability, but simply condemned the poor boy because of his mother's blood. Unbelievable! I sank into a nearby chair, feeling like my head was reeling.
"It gets worse," my mother informed me in a grim tone.
My head turned slowly so that I could look at her. How could the situation possibly get worse than this?
"She's pregnant."
For a moment, I couldn't think at all. What I was hearing was just too callous, too evil, for me to comprehend it. A husband had condemned his pregnant wife and young son to being burned to death…and then had the gall to challenge me when I came to rescue them? "Is there no mercy in this country?" I whispered to myself hoarsely.
"Not that I can find." My mother reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently in comfort. "I've spoken with the girl, and she's asked that we assist her in having her marriage stricken from the records."
After all of this, I couldn't blame her. Still, there were other things to consider. "She knows that she will be under Ki
ng Guin's protection?"
"I thought as much, but I wasn't sure," she responded with a thoughtful look. "Your father is talking to her now. If she wishes, she and her children will be adopted into this family."
I felt a smile break over my face. I really did have the best parents in the entire world. "I will be proud to have her as my sister," I acknowledged. I didn't know Dol—Asla very well, but I thought she was a good woman.
I received a warm smile of approval from my mother. "I thought as much. Your brothers and sister said the same thing."
Speaking of which, I hadn't seen a particular three year old boy scampering around. "Where is Aral?"
"Xavien has him. They've been playing with Night most of the morning."
My prankster brother, with an impressionable three year old boy, and a mischievous Nreesce…busted buckets, but that didn't paint a pretty picture in my head. What mischief they had gotten into, I didn't want to know.
"How did the meeting go?"
I noted the worry in my mother's voice, and shrugged. "I'm not sure how to answer that," I told her honestly. "Most of the Lords and Ladies don't even want to admit that magical people are still being born here. I had to bludgeon that fact in with brute force. When I left, they were at least willing to believe that magical people still exist in Chahir."
A slight frown creased her forehead. "I hadn't expected them to deny that."
"Neither had I." Sighing, I slumped back into my chair. "Guin has an uphill battle on his hands."
"Then we will be here for some time yet?"
"At least another few days, I would think," I acknowledged. "And I wouldn't be surprised if I was called in again to prove some other point for Guin."
She gave a thoughtful "Hm" in response. "Garth, do you normally travel by going into the earth like that?"
I blinked at this abrupt change in subject. How do women do that? Just jump from one idea to the next without any transition? "Um, well, in emergencies, yes. Everyone who travels with me like that finds it very uncomfortable, and a little nerve wracking, so I don't do it very often."
Jaunten (Advent Mage Cycle) Page 32