“This is no laughing matter,” said Malak. “This is the supported theory of why most of the time mages went mad.”
“Mad?” asked Elias, sobering.
“Time travel, dimensional gates, put undue stress on the arcanist, particularly on the psyche,” said Teah. “Even with every precaution taken, every time one employs these arts they run the risk that they may...unravel a bit.”
“Uh-huh,” said Elias. “They become, how do you say, warped?”
Malak eyed Elias. “The condition is marked by erratic behavior, loss of memory or contradictory memories, agitation, growing paranoia...”
“Culminating in full blown madness,” Elias finished.
“Not that we’re saying that’s happened to you,” Malak was quick to reply. “However, victims of this affliction often documented that it began with an indescribable feeling that something was wrong, though they couldn’t name the specifics.”
“Some have theorized that this is because the time mage may have splintered memories from an alternate timeline, or fragmented memories of a past that never happened,” said Teah.
“While others simply say this is the price of time magic,” countered Malak. “It is one of the cautionary lessons passed down by our people to encourage us not to pursue such unnatural arts.”
“Well, I’m certain that I’m not losing my mind to the warping, or anything else,” Elias said. “I would, however, like to learn more about these forbidden arts.” When Malak started, Elias held up a hand. “Yes, I know, it’s forbidden, but I need to know what I’m up against. I need some more lessons in arcane theory and in Enkilder history.”
“Elias,” said Malak, “we have your and Teah’s defense to think about. You said you wanted to learn more of our laws.”
“And so I do,” said Elias, “but I’m trusting you to be the expert on the law, and you have my full confidence. What I need to do is work on how to get home and figure out how to stabilize your domain and erase any damage I may have done. I also have to come up with a contingency plan in case I’m found guilty.”
“If we lose our case,” said Malak, “you’ll have little say in the matter.”
Elias stood as a knock came at the door. “That’ll be the tea.” After he opened the door, took the tray, and resumed his seat by the window he said, “If I am found in breach of your laws I do not intend to remain a prisoner for the rest of my life.”
“I can’t see as you’ll have a choice,” Malak said, not unkindly.
“They’ve only brought two teacups,” Teah said, changing the subject for she knew Elias’s mind.
“No matter,” said Elias. “I have my cup from breakfast by the windowsill.” He retrieved his cup as Teah poured for herself and Malak. “Malak, do you have any access to histories describing time magic, or better yet any books on arcane theory?”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” said Malak slowly, drawing out the words. “If anyone were to search your chambers and find them it would hurt your cause a great deal, and get me into no small measure of trouble. At the best I would be discharged as your barrister, and at worst I would find myself undergoing Arbitration as well.”
“What do you want to know?” Teah asked.
Elias poured his tea. He peered at Teah over the rim. “When I snuck into your room you said that I may have created a temporal paradox. I want to know more about those for one.”
Teah set down her cup. “What else?”
“Are you immortal?”
“Not as such,” Teah replied.
Elias laughed.
“It’s complicated,” said Malak.
“Please try to enlighten me,” Elias said.
“The Enkilder differ from men physiologically,” said Malak. “That is part of it. They fey are a long-lived people in comparison to humans.”
“You are only half fey, however,” said Elias.
“It goes beyond physiology, strictly speaking,” Teah said. “The fey races have a much higher natural predisposition toward the arcane arts and our mastery over the High Arcanum, as we call it, is significantly advanced in respect to the humans of your time. We have changed the ways in which we interact with the universal arcane force.”
“You mean the tapestry?” asked Elias.
“If you like,” said Teah. “By interacting with the tapestry, to use your word, or aescentia to use ours, we are able to sustain our bodies and practically nullify the physical aging process when we reach our prime.”
“But then you die when the time is right through the Abeotium, like Leosis.”
“If you’re lucky,” said Malak. When Elias responded with an audible sigh, the young Enkilder endeavored to elaborate. “For reasons unknown to us, when an Enkilder reaches a certain age, and it differs person to person, though our bodies remain fit, our minds begin to go.”
“You become senile?” Elias asked.
“For lack of a better word, yes,” replied Malak.
“One philosophy suggests that though our bodies remain functional, our souls yearn to yield physical life in pursuit of other realms,” said Teah.
“Leosis said something like that to me,” Elias said.
Malak shuddered. “I’ve seen Enkilder at the end of reason, those who didn’t have the inclination or else the courage to seek the Abeotium. They are as shells, devoid of the spark of life. They breathe, they eat, but they’re the walking dead. Husks. Their eyes gone white and sightless.”
Elias saw the naked horror written clearly on Malak’s face. A thought occurred to him. “All of your eyes are some variance of green or hazel,” he remarked. “But Leosis’s were blue, and Mordum’s are a similar shade. I noticed that Cormn’s eyes are a faded color, yet Nyla’s are unnaturally bright.”
Teah raised an eyebrow. “You are perceptive, Wayfarer. That is the only sure way to detect an Enkilder’s age. As we age our eyes grow lighter in color, fading from green or hazel to a light blue, and then finally to white as we lose ourselves.”
“So you are relatively young yet,” Elias observed.
Teah offered him a coy smile. “A woman never tells.”
“Mordum, however...” said Elias who found himself wracked by an involuntary shiver. “Who knows how ancient he is, what he’s seen. What he’s done.”
“There you go again,” said Malak. He turned his gaze to Teah. “He thinks Mordum has a hidden agenda.”
Teah locked eyes with Malak. “As I said, the Wayfarer has keen instincts.”
“You distrust Mordum that much?” asked Malak.
“Most assuredly,” returned Teah. “What’s more, Leosis distrusted him.”
“Then why didn’t you seek the office of Speaker yourself?” asked a bewildered Malak. “Many would have supported you.”
Teah turned her eyes to Elias and studied him. “That was my thought, but Leosis counseled me to let Mordum become Speaker uncontested.”
“That makes little sense, if he thought so little of him,” Malak remarked.
Teah continued peering at Elias. “Leosis thought the only way to draw Mordum out would be to let him assume the mantle of Speaker and then study his movements. That’s why I’m not convinced that Elias is to blame for our domain shifting, for the appearance of the Lichlor.”
“Sky above us,” said Malak, “you think it was Mordum.”
Chapter 19
Altered States
Teah set her teacup down. She leaned back in her chair and studied Malak. After a moment’s consideration she decided she had little choice but to trust in him. “Think about it. Were he to create the disturbances in the ether that is causing our domain to shift back toward the plane Agia inhabits, were he to summon the Lichlor, then Elias presents him with the perfect scapegoat. A mysterious stranger from a race the Enkilder need no help in mistrusting. Beyond that, he eliminates me as well, his only cogent threat to the office of Speaker, and the widow of his predecessor.”
“Did Mordum suspect that Leosis disliked him?” asked
Elias.
“That I don’t know,” replied Teah, “but Leosis did turn Mordum down when he asked to apprentice under him. Not that he was in need of a mentor, his command of the arcane was considerable, as anyone worth a lick of salt could see. Leosis suspected that Mordum’s true motive was to get his hands on his personal library and put himself in better position to be elected his successor. Leosis told him that he didn’t require his tutelage, and that he didn’t have the time or resources available to take on a new student as Nyla and I were his prime pupils.”
“That’s all well and good,” said Malak, his features tightly knitted into a frown, “but the real question is what possible motive could Mordum have for doing such a thing?”
“I understand why you’re dubious,” said Teah.
“Teah, I have the greatest respect for you, and for Leosis,” Malak said. “It may surprise you to know that Mordum wasn’t the only one to ask Leosis for an apprenticeship.”
Teah gave Malak a reassuring smile. “I’m not surprised. You should know that my husband was fond of you. And you should know that I’m not cross that you doubt my hunch. As to what Mordum’s motives are, his ultimate goal, that I don’t know, and that, my young friend, is the hole in my theory.”
“Let’s not focus on what we don’t know,” said Elias, “but what we do know. We know that Mordum didn’t always live in Illedium, but came from the outside. We know that Mordum is old, perhaps as old as Leosis was, which makes him, by my estimate, perhaps the oldest living Enkilder still in full control of his faculties.”
“I won’t say you’re wrong,” said Teah, “yet I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“He spent the bulk of his life outside Illedium, doing the One God knows what. We can only imagine what that life entailed. Where did he come from? What did he do? Was he a person of honor, or a rogue? Where did he learn magic?”
“You’re suggesting that he may have had motives beyond seeking sanctuary when he came to Illedium?” asked Mordum.
“I’m certain of it,” Elias replied. “We just have to find out what they were.”
†
There was something strange about the tree, Nyla decided.
She had circled the wytchwood at least a dozen times trying to get a sense of what made the tree so unique. She saw a rotating field of rich green energy encapsulating the ancient tree when she raised her second sight. Yet try as she might she couldn’t understand its function, for it was unlike any energy signature she had ever seen or read about. It appeared to have characteristics of both a living aura and also a dedicated enchantment. To further complicate the puzzle, she saw the occasional flicker of blue light at the center of its trunk, pulsating like the labored beating of a failing heart.
Nyla dropped her second sight, and rubbed vigorously at the headache forming between her eyes. She was running out of time. She had to come up with a plan to rescue her mother and Elias, and lollygagging about staring at trees wasn’t doing her spot of good. She turned to go but a whisper sounded close to her ear.
She returned her attention to the tree, walking beneath its boughs. It defied reason, but had the tree just spoken? Nyla approached the trunk focusing her eyes on a thrum of energy that seemed to emanate from the heart of the tree. How had she missed it before? Entranced, she stood at the foot of the trunk, lost in the whirling eddies of light spinning before her eyes. Reacting out of instinct she reached out a hand and pressed her palm to the trunk.
Nyla, whispered a voice in her mind, you’ve come.
†
“Elias, are you unwell?” asked Teah, upon noticing he hadn’t as much as touched his lunch.
Elias blinked and passed a hand over his brow. “I’m not quite sure. I don’t feel myself. I feel...”
“Yes?” asked Teah, a forkful of greens forgotten halfway to her mouth.
Elias focused bleary eyes on her. “It sounds ludicrous, but I feel drunk.”
Teah dropped her fork and grabbed his glass of water. She sniffed at, and then startled and went stiff, sloshing its contents onto the table. “Forsaken spirits,” she cursed, “I forgot the damnable desmene. Malak, see if there’s a spell on his water.”
Malak blanched, but raised a hand without hesitation, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He visibly relaxed. “The water’s clean of magic. Come to think of it, we drank from the same pitcher, and we feel fine.” His eyes flicked to Teah. “Could it be...?”
“It’s not the warping,” Elias said hotly.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Malak was quick to say. “It’s probably all the stress you’re under. I can’t imagine you’re sleeping well.”
“Not very,” admitted Elias. “But while I’m not too familiar with being imprisoned and held on trial, I am a fair deal familiar with being drunk, and this is what it feels like.” Malak and Teah exchanged troubled glances, and despite himself Elias took one look at them and burst out laughing. “You Enkilder are so serious, like all the time. It’s a wonder you ever find the fire to make children!”
“I’m going to have to petition for a recess,” said Malak, “he’s quite right to say he’s not himself. He’s acting like a raving lunatic.”
“Indeed,” said Teah, “but this is most certainly not the warping. Its onset is too sudden, and he’s only used the time magic the once. Who has access to his chamber?”
“Hey,” slurred Elias, “I can shhtill hear you. I’m sitting right here.”
Malak shrugged. “The household staff, I suppose. There are no fast restrictions, save that the staff take precaution not to interact with him beyond seeing to his basic needs. I can’t imagine that he has been drugged or poisoned. After all, we drank the same tea and water as he.”
“Perhaps it is a compound that only affects humans,” said Teah.
“Theoretically possible,” said Malak, “but who among us has much experience with human physiology?”
“Mordum, of course,” said Elias, reigning in his flighty thoughts with supreme effort. “He alone has had the opportunity to interact with humans.” Teah casted Elias an appraising look which prompted him to say, “I’m drunk, not stupid.”
“I’m loathe to admit it,” Teah said to Malak, “but you may be right. He’s in no condition to suffer Arbitration in this state.”
“That’s exactly what Mordum wants,” said Elias. “He wants to stall, to draw things out. He’s planning something. Pass the old tea, then, if the water’s in question. I’ve the worst dry-mouth.”
“Perhaps,” said Malak, “yet I think they’d have more to gain by having you act the fool in public. Luckily for us they won’t be calling you to witness this afternoon. First they’ll make their opening remarks, and then begin building a case by citing evidence against you.”
“Shiny,” said Elias, taking a deep pull off the cold tea, drinking directly from the pot. “Ugh. It’s grown bitter.”
“It shouldn’t have, I took the tea leaves out when it came,” Malak said absently.
Teah’s eyes narrowed. “Elias hand me your teacup.” Elias complied and Teah examined it. First she sniffed it and then wet a finger with her tongue and ran it along the bottom. “Elias did you sugar your tea?”
“Never do, I’m sweet enough.”
“There’s a sweet residue in the cup,” Teah observed. “It wasn’t in the tea or the water, but in the cup itself. Someone must have snuck in here during the morning session and laced the cup with poison.”
“That’s preposterous,” said Malak.
“Think it through, barrister,” said Teah. “When they sent up our tea, they only sent two cups though there were three of us. The oversight was intentional.”
Malak cast a dubious glance at Elias. “So that he would use his cup from the morning? I don’t know, it sounds like a stretch.”
“Look at his eyes,” Teah retorted. “His pupils are wide as saucers.”
Malak peered at Elias who gave him a toothy grin. “Sky above! What in the planes is happening?
”
“I just hope it’s not fatal,” said Elias, sobering, if not literally, then at least inasmuch as his mood was concerned.
“No, I think not,” said Teah. “If they killed you there would be a full investigation, which would ultimately smoke out the perpetrators, one of whom must be a member of the household staff. They couldn’t take that chance. If however, you just act a lunatic, well, it’s a good deal harder to prove that foul play is involved.”
Malak scrubbed a hand over his face. “What are we going to do?”
Teah took a look at Elias and shook her head. “We do have grounds for appealing the court for a delay, seeing as you just succeeded in your gambit to try our cases together.”
“True,” said Malak, “but given that the Arbiter have already thrown me a boon, they may be less forthcoming in conceding to yet another appeal, especially if all they’re expecting in the afternoon session are opening statements and preliminary evidence and witness lists.”
“Agreed,” said Teah, “but we have little choice but to try, and then cope with the consequences as best we can.” She turned her attention back to Elias, who silently fumed, his inebriated state fueling his already ample hostile feelings. “Do you think you can pull it together, in the event the Arbiter address you directly?”
“We can’t afford another delay, that’s exactly what Mordum wants,” Elias replied. “He wants to stall in the event that the trial goes in our favor. The longer the attention of all Illedium is on us, the more freedom he’ll have to skulk the shadows. In my heart I feel that the window to the Wandering Isle is shrinking, and I think Mordum may know it too.”
Silence fell over the chamber as Malak mulled over Elias’s words. “I’ll honor your wishes as long as your condition doesn’t worsen.”
“I think I’m going to need to lie down until they come for us,” Elias said. I need to recover my equilibrium.”
“Very well,” said Malak. “We’ll leave you in peace.”
“No,” said Elias, surprised at the fear he heard in his own voice. “Stay. In case something happens, I don’t want to be alone.”
Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle) Page 17