The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Here, let me pour,” Torella said excitedly. She began to pour the first glass, then stopped.

  “Is it water?” she asked, discovering that the wine was not the typical deep red color she associated with wine. “I’ll try it,” she offered. She raised the glass, swallowed the contents, and gave a delighted murmur of satisfaction.

  “You should try this!” Torella proposed to Theus enthusiastically. She poured two large glasses of the beverage, and raised her glass in a toast.

  “Here’s to Ruune feeling better,” she toasted. Theus clinked his glass against hers, and they drank. She drank deeply, while Theus sipped his beverage. The wine was pleasant, much better than he had expected from the strangely tinted beverage.

  “And here’s to having more medicine to heal all the people in the hospice,” Torella raised a second toast, and drained her glass, as Theus sipped his again.

  “Here’s a toast to people who know how to heal and cure everything in the world,” she raised a third quick toast, with a warm smile, and drank deeply.

  “Have our guests decided what they would like to order?” a waiter was suddenly beside their table.

  The two guests looked blankly at him, then at one another.

  “I could make some suggestions,” the waiter advised haughtily.

  “Can I have some stew?” Theus asked.

  “We do not serve stew,” the waiter informed him.

  “Do you have any chicken?” Torella asked.

  “We have pheasant, or quail,” the waiter seemed impatient.

  “Do you have any chops?” Theus tried again.

  The waiter hesitated. “Yes, we have lamb,” he reluctantly surrendered an agreement.

  “That’s what I’ll have,” both the guests said simultaneously, then laughed.

  The waiter stood stoically for a moment, nodded, and departed.

  “Here’s a toast to chops!” Theus grinned.

  “To chops!” Torella agreed, and they both drank.

  There was a sudden, inexplicable blast of cold air in the restaurant, an impossible phenomenon in the semi-tropical city. The lights from the candles and lanterns dimmed for several seconds, and men and women shrieked in fear.

  When the lights rose again, Theus looked to see that Donal the magician, and a pair of servants, stood in front of the main door.

  A quartet of diners at a table near Theus and Torella suddenly rose and darted towards the kitchen door, looking to escape from the magician’s presence, but Donal lazily raised his hand and pointed a finger at the group. There was a flash of light, and the four people collapsed in a heap on the floor next to the kitchen door.

  “I hope no one else will be stupid enough to try that again,” Donal said in his low, raspy voice.

  “Now, all of you have a chance to help your king with a mission of the utmost importance to him. Each of you will have a chance to make a small contribution,” he said, his voice projecting effectively throughout the dining room.

  “I believe we’ll start with you,” he said casually, as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the woman sitting closest.

  He closed his eyes, as the whole restaurant stared. There was a sudden slight glow around the woman, then a high-pitched humming noise for a second. The woman shrieked painfully, and the glow migrated from her to Donal, changing color from blue to red as it went. The woman fainted, while the magician seemed to wince, and straighten his posture involuntarily, then the light around him ceased.

  “And now for you,” Donal said to the man sitting at the table with the woman.

  “When this is finished, the two of you are welcome to finish your meal, or you may leave,” Donal said, then he placed his hand atop the head of the man, and the process was repeated.

  “That was simple and easy. Who wants to be next?” Donal asked sarcastically. He took a step to the right, and placed his hand on a man at the table next to him, making the man’s companion scream with fear.

  “You two go collect as well, so we can finish here sooner,” Donal said to his assistants. They each bowed slightly, then also stepped towards untouched tables and began to demonstrate the same terrible treatment that gave pain to the customers of the restaurant.

  “What are they doing to them? Why?” Torella asked Theus in a whisper. “Can we escape? Can you stop them? What if everyone tried to fight them together, all at once?”

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” whispered a man at the nearest table. “We could all be hurt even worse if you make him mad.”

  “Why is he doing this to people here?” Torella trembled as she asked. Theus reached out and took her hand in his, trying to comfort her.

  “He is taking life from everyone, a little from each person he treats. He’ll use the power for his magic,” the man said.

  Donal’s eyes turned to look in the direction of the conversation, and the man explaining the situation instantly stopped, then looked down in his lap.

  “Hmm,” Donal murmured. He left his spot and his next victim, to walk towards the location of the voices.

  “What an interesting sight,” Donal said when he approached, and came to stand next to Theus and Torella’s table. “So intriguing.

  “The slaves from the palace,” he intoned, loudly enough for all the nearby tables to hear.

  “There was something interesting about you in the palace. And it seems most unusual that slaves would have the funds to afford a bottle of wine in an establishment like this,” he looked down at their table.

  “Not to mention the unusual rumors I’ve heard in the past few days. A master swordsman is defeating our best palace guard officers with swords – but he’s a slave. A high-ranking noblewoman is bewitched by a charming young man – but he’s a slave. Miraculous cures are helping the invalids and incurable – but they come from a slave,” Donal ticked through his list, looking down at Theus as he did, his eyes burning with intensity.

  “There’s something unusual happening, and I’m always interested in the unusual,” Donal said. And then he laid his hand upon Torella’s shoulder.

  The girl screamed, and her hand and Theus’s gripped one another with intensity.

  Donal closed his eyes. Theus felt suddenly chilled.

  He watched as the blue glow began to form around Torella. Her eyes were wide and round with terror. Theus felt a gnawing feeling in his soul, as though some horrid predator was stalking him relentlessly in real life, tracking him across an open plain where there was no place to hide. He was about to be pounced upon and killed, he was sure. He felt time slowing down, and the air around him seemed to be rushing with terrific force against him suddenly.

  “I can protect you,” a voice faintly intoned, echoing through Theus’s psyche.

  The hunting monster that was just behind him suddenly staggered backwards. There was a flash of pain and anger, yet it came from a different place within him.

  Theus tore his eyes away from Torella, whose face suddenly seemed to relax slightly. He looked up at Donal, and saw the man’s head rock back, and his eyes twitch violently. The glow around Torella transferred itself to Donal, glowing with a sickly light red color instead of the deep color that others had given to the magician.

  Torella collapsed forward, as Donal’s hand left her shoulder, and Theus leaned forward and reached out to prevent her face from striking the table.

  He looked up at Donal, and saw the magician studying him intently, while rubbing his left hand vigorously across the back of the right hand that had rested on Torella.

  “You are on my list,” he almost hissed the words to Theus, who looked up at him in befuddled fear.

  “We’re through here for the night,” Donal announced in a voice that carried across the room. He turned and motioned to his two followers, then walked towards the front door of the tavern and walked out of the establishment.

  “Torella!” Theus sprang out of his seat and knelt on the floor, next to the unconscious girl. He hugged her tightly and gently chaffed her cheeks a
nd hands, until he saw her eyes flutter open.

  “Oh Theus!” she moaned, then wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.

  There were noises around them, and Theus realized that the other patrons of the restaurant were fleeing from the horrific scene – those who were awake and able. The others, the worst-affected victims of the magicians’ treatment, remained slumped unconscious in their seats.

  “Let’s get back to the palace,” Theus whispered to Torella.

  “Yes, please, take me home,” she nodded her head against his shoulder in agreement.

  Theus stood, and helped her to her feet.

  “Don’t forget the bags,” she urged as he started to lead her away. She reached down and lifted some of the bounty they had purchased at the markets in the city. Together, they gathered their goods, then wound their way out onto the street, in the early darkness of the evening. Holding hands, they hurried through the city and returned to the gates in the palace walls, then entered.

  Theus surveyed their surroundings as they entered the palace property, fearful that Donal might be awaiting him, ready to ambush him for some reason. They hurried to the kitchen unmolested, though Theus feared some attack from the magician at any moment. After they put their supplies on the counter in the dim kitchen, Theus studied the silent Torella. She was still pale, her white skin in deeper contrast than usual to her red hair.

  “Let’s go to the North Hall, shall we?” he suggested. When she nodded, he guided her by the hand through the palace and the grounds, to reach their destination.

  “I felt his mind inside my soul,” Torella finally whispered to Theus as they walked up the stairs to the third floor of the dormitory for the slaves. I could feel him taking something from me.”

  “Here’s your room,” Theus told as they stood outside her door. The hallway was dark. She had expressed her horror, and Theus knew it well; he had felt it just as she had. And he knew what she wanted now.

  “Shall I stay with you tonight?” he asked softly.

  “Please, Theus. Comfort me,” she nodded. She hugged him tightly, then opened the door, and they both stumbled into her room. They sat on the bed and removed their boots, then lay down in each other’s arms and whispered to one another that they were safe.

  Chapter 10

  Theus awoke first in the morning, as darkness was turning to gray outside Torella’s window. He gently disengaged her arms from around his shoulders, then slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. He bent over to pull on his boots, then stretched his arms over his head, and stood up. He was feeling better than he had the night before; the horror of the touch of the magician had been enduring. Only the opportunity to sleep against Torella, taking comfort in the feel of her body pressed innocently against his, had helped to wash away the residual dregs of fear.

  When he stood he felt ready to move on with the duties he had ahead for the day; breakfast delivery to the armory, and fencing, then service to Lady Citrice, and then the chance to return to the kitchen to begin mixing the additional medicines needed by the patients in the hospice.

  His eyes were adjusted to the growing dim light in Torella’s room. He saw, to his shock and horror, that there was a person sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

  “So, you’re Theus?” the man’s voice spoke, as Theus gasped audibly. He wished he carried a weapon – a sword, or knife, or staff – anything.

  “I am,” was all he answered, waiting to find out what the intruder’s intention was. Theus reached down and gently tapped Torella behind him without looking. He wanted the girl to be awake and alert to the situation, in case she had to flee for safety.

  It had to be the magician, Theus realized. Or if not the magician himself, one of his minions, sent to do some damage to Theus in retribution for the strange occurrence at the restaurant the night before.

  The stranger stood up, unsteadily, it seemed in the dimness.

  “What is it Theus?” Torella’s voice behind him responded to his prodding.

  “Theus the healer. Theus the do-gooder. Theus the hero,” the stranger said mockingly.

  “Oh,” Torella’s voice had a catch in it.

  “This is the good you do?” the man asked, confusing Theus.

  “Ruune?” Torella’s voice spoke a name.

  “My betrothed?” the intruder answered bitterly.

  Theus felt a second profound shock. He realized the situation. He was in bed with the woman who was supposed to be faithful to Ruune.

  “This isn’t what it seems,” Theus protested.

  Torella sat up and leapt off the bed. She ran over to Runne and threw her arms around him.

  “You’re up! You’re out of the hospice!” she was full of joy.

  “And you’re taking other men to your bed,” Ruune’s one arm attempted to break Torella’s clinch; the man struggled to push the girl away.

  “We were only together for protection from the evil of the magician. He frightened us last night,” Theus protested. “We did nothing wrong. We were on the same bed, to feel safe, but that’s all.” He raised his voice to emphasize his words.

  “Truly Ruune!” Torella said beseechingly. “The magician Donal was in a restaurant last night, where we were. And he touched me – it was horrible. It was dark magic, but Theus helped stop the attack,” she explained, still struggling against his opposition to her embrace.

  “He hasn’t even kissed me,” she wailed. “I’ve been true to you.

  “I’ve been true to you,” she repeated.

  “She has been,” Theus agreed. “She’s the one who told me to heal you; she begged me. I wasn’t going to touch you until Torella asked. And she’s been true.”

  “Theus, leave us to talk,” Torella turned to him. “Let me talk to him.”

  “Go,” Ruune agreed.

  “She’s a good person,” Theus said as he approached the door. “You’re lucky to have her,” he added, as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  “Oh,” he exclaimed in surprise. Molly and two others were standing immediately outside of Torella’s room, listening to the stormy confrontation.

  He glared at the women, who scattered down the hallway, leaving him alone to walk into his own room. He sat on his bed and exhaled deeply. The scene in the bedroom had been tense, and unexpected. He knew instinctively that the quickly-developed work habits he had established of partnering so frequently with Torella would come to an end with the arrival of Ruune back in the kitchen.

  He took another deep breath, and tried to relax, then changed his clothes, and left the residence hall to head to the kitchen.

  Weese was already at work among his fellow bakers, Theus found when he arrived. He accepted the hearty thanks from the baking crew, then picked up the breakfast plates destined for delivery to the armory. He stacked them so that he could carry them alone, knowing that Torella would certainly not be with him that morning. Yet he made excuses to dawdle in the kitchen for extra minutes, hoping to see the girl, without any luck.

  He maneuvered his way across the width of the palace to the armory, and laid out the food he had borne.

  “Where’s the real reason we want breakfast delivered?” asked Montuse, as the group noted the absence of Torella.

  “She couldn’t make it today,” Theus lamely excused the girl, unable to come up with any answer other than the truth, which he certainly did not wish to disclose.

  “Then we’ll make you do twice as much to entertain us,” Glashtin pronounced, raising a round of laughter from the others, and bringing a smile to Theus’s face for the first time that morning.

  He proceeded to joust with them, holding his own adequately by his standards, though he remained distracted by the memory of the unnerving confrontation in Torella’s room that morning. When his last match with the officers was done, he started to walk away.

  “Theus, be careful,” Alamice told him as he walked alongside the slave, a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We had a servant of Donal t
he magician down here yesterday asking questions about a slave who brought us breakfast.

  “You be careful,” Alamice said in a low voice as they reached the doorway. “None of us can stand the magician, but none of us can stand up to him either. We might be able to help you disappear, but we can’t ever try to fight for you openly,” he warned.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Theus said. He was both sincerely appreciative of the helpful warning, and fearful of what it indicated. Theus was fearful enough of the magician, and had been made even more so after the dreadful encounter in the restaurant. The words of the officer only increased his anxiety.

  It might be time to make his escape from the palace, he decided, as he walked to the North Hall so that he could shower and refresh himself before he went to see the Lady Citrice.

  He had found it was extremely easy to pass in and out of the palace gates. He was already recognized due to his many shopping trips, and he suspected he could easily slip out of the palace grounds as though he were on another shopping trip.

  He washed himself in the mostly empty residential hall, glad there were no prying eyes watching him after the morning’s events, and he hurried to the royal wing of the palace.

  The maid opened the door to Citrice’s suite without comment, and casually waved Theus through to the noblewoman’s bedroom without comment.

  The woman’s feet appeared perfect. There was no sign of any irritation or inflammation.

  “You’ve healed very nicely, my lady,” Theus said, as he sat on the corner of her bed and began to massage the feet that extended out from under the covers. He no longer even thought it was odd to be with the woman on her bed, but then he thought of how he had been on Torella’s bed, just as innocently, just a few hours previously, and had suffered unhappy results.

  “That won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself.

  “What was that, young doctor?” Citrice asked.

  “I asked if you’ll go dancing tonight,” Theus hastily changed his comment.

  “Yes, of course, as you know, I’ll be dancing at the ball tonight. We’ll be celebrating the king’s plan to expand the kingdom,” she said casually. “And I’ll be able to dance every dance!” she was pleased with the prospect.