The Archmage unbound m-3

by Michael G. Manning

  When he had finished speaking he put his hands on my shoulders and lifted upward as a signal to rise. As I stood I felt a wave of disgust crash over me, disgust for the entire ceremony, and for myself for participating. It was nothing more than an overblown lie, meant to sooth the people and create more support for the king, a man I could barely stand, much less respect.

  Raising my head I saw Cyhan standing beside and slightly behind our monarch and as our eyes met he saw the look in my eyes. An imperceptible shake of his head cautioned me to hold my tongue. Taking a deep breath I knew he was right, the wrong words now could start a civil war, and that was precisely what I was here to prevent.

  I wondered at his calm. His last words to me had cautioned me that our next meeting would be an unpleasant one, yet now he stood calmly by the king, acting as his bodyguard. I could only surmise that his oath to our monarch superseded his oath to execute unbound wizards. I bet it keeps him up at night, I thought. I gave Cyhan a polite smile when the king took his eyes from me, letting him know I appreciated his tolerance… and his advice.

  “Perhaps our hero would like to say a few words to the crowd?” asked the king graciously.

  “Certainly, your Majesty,” I answered quickly. He stepped back and I turned to face the people. The sun was no longer in my face so I could see them more clearly now. “Our king has honored me today, but I want you to know that the honor is not just my own. The defense of Lothion is not something any one man could accomplish alone; it was done with the aid of hundreds, nay thousands of men and women. People just like those here today. I did no more, and no less, than I would have expected any loyal citizen of our nation would do.” I stopped there.

  I was tempted to continue, to tell them that they should prepare to do the same, should fate again threaten our nation, but I withheld those words. I knew they would be badly received by Edward. I had already given him a slight insult by insisting that the honor was not my own, by sharing it with those who served me. Despite Cyhan’s unspoken warning I could feel my temper flare, but I went cold when I saw a young man staring at me in the crowd.

  It was a surreal moment, when the world slows down and everything becomes crystalline. Though there were hundreds of people before me, for those few seconds the only other person I was aware of was the young sandy haired man whose eyes burned into me. It was a look of utter hatred, the look of someone who saw in me the personification of all the ills in the world. In that timeless moment of focus my mind saw him clearly, even to the knife he held clutched at his side, hidden under a ragged cloth. This man, who seemed to be even younger than I was, had come today with no other reason, than the hope that he might get close enough to kill me.

  It was a shocking thought, but I knew it was true, with a surety that pure logic can never provide. Whatever his reason, this fellow desired nothing more than to end my life. A woman’s voice rang out through the crowd. It was but one voice among many, but he knew it and he turned his head to see the girl who called for him. I followed his gaze, and when his eyes settled upon her I saw her as well.

  She was young, and she resembled him, probably his younger sister, I thought. She struggled to get through the crowd, to reach him, and her face bore a look of profound fear and worry. She’s come to stop him, I realized. The crowd went on cheering while the king put his hand on my shoulder. Unnoticed by everyone a tiny drama played out within the crowd, and yet I saw them.

  The king began speaking again but I did not hear him, all my attention was upon the young man and his sister. She had reached him now and they argued with one another in the midst of the crowded square. Realizing his chance had vanished with her arrival his shoulders slumped and he turned away, letting her lead him toward home. As he did she cast her eyes toward me and I found myself transfixed by her gaze. I had hoped my expression would convey my thanks to her, but face was lit with a fury and hatred every bit as intense as his had been.

  What could I have done to make these two young strangers despise me so? I wondered. Sir Harold jostled my elbow again, alerting me to the fact that the king had left the platform. We were supposed to follow. I got myself moving but I kept a portion of my mind on the young man and his sister. They were leaving now, dispersing with the crowd, and heading in the opposite direction.

  I felt sure I could follow them, mentally, so long as I wasn’t too distracted and they didn’t travel too far away, but I worried the king would want to discuss matters once we had gotten free of the crowds.

  I needn’t have worried. As soon as we got within the palace Edward turned to me, “We have more business to tend to this afternoon so we won’t keep you. Our steward will send someone around later with the documents you need to sign.”

  “Documents?” I said questioningly.

  “Deeds and letters, relating to the late Baron’s estate… now yours,” he smiled, though the effect his smile produced was more unnerving than reassuring.

  “Of course your Majesty,” I said, giving him a deferential bow. My mind was still distracted, trying to follow the young man and his sister, steadily drawing further away. Thankfully the king merely nodded at that and soon enough I was on my own again. I waited a long minute until Edward had gone from my sight.

  I started walking briskly in the direction of the man I was still tracking, much to Harold’s dismay. “Your Excellency!” he said, trying to get my attention.

  “What,” I said gruffly.

  “Would you mind telling me where we are heading?” he asked.

  “I have something to take care of… I’ll meet you back at the house in a short while,” I informed him.

  “I’m coming with you, your lordship,” he said firmly.

  “No, I’m afraid you are not,” I replied.

  “Lord Dorian’s orders were very clear sir,” he explained, almost apologetically, “my duty is to protect you, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “Who is your liege-lord?” I asked him.

  “You my lord,” he said promptly.

  “I’m ordering you to return to my house and wait for me there,” I said sternly.

  “I cannot obey that order your Lordship,” he replied.

  I laughed, “Be glad I am tolerant.” I started walking back through the crowd. “Most lords would have you cut into pieces for that sort of impertinence.” Before he could reply I reached out and touched a stranger and spoke a phrase in Lycian. My appearance changed instantly to match that of the man I had just touched. Poor Harold was confused immediately.

  Before he could sort things out I moved further away and touched someone else, trading appearances as easily as some people might change shirts. Soon enough I had lost my guards, and more specifically Harold, completely. I almost felt bad about it. I knew he would be sick with worry until I returned later. Sorry Harold, I thought.

  I still had my mind fixed on that young man and his sister. They were heading steadily away, close to the limit of my range now as they made their way toward the city gates. I jogged when possible to close the distance and soon I had caught up enough that I didn’t have to worry about the range anymore. I followed at a fast pace then, to avoid attracting attention or running into someone, since the streets were still crowded.

  I thought they might perhaps pass through the gates but they turned aside before they reached them, heading into one of the poorest districts of the city… a ramshackle collection of houses built near the walls. I followed them, making note of the street names until at last they entered a small dilapidated cottage. They stopped there, which allowed me to catch up.

  I dawdled in the street near their house for a short while before I finally decided to simply knock on the door. I was still wearing a stranger’s appearance so I didn’t think it could hurt. I gave the door a few sharp raps and waited. After a minute it opened slightly and I saw the young woman peering at me from one side. “Can I help you sir?” she asked.

  “Yes miss, I hope you can. Could you tell me what address this is?” I replied
politely. I did in fact have no idea what the address was, and I needed the information for the next part of my ruse.

  She opened the door slightly wider, probably thanks to my courteous tone. “This is number fourteen, Redbird Lane sir… why do you ask?” she answered cautiously.

  I tipped my head deferentially. I almost attempted to tip my hat to her, but I wasn’t really sure if my appearance included a hat or not, or what would happen if I tried to remove an illusory cap. “Pardon the intrusion ma’am, my name is Stephen Dryer and I’m trying to find my friend, a mister John Wheeler.” Of course none of that was true, but sometimes a false statement is better than a question for getting facts.

  She pursed her lips, “I’m afraid there’s no one here by that name sir, this is the Tucker residence.”

  My face fell in an expression of dismay. “Are you sure? This is the address I was given and I don’t know where else to look. Could he possibly be one of your neighbors?”

  Her look was sympathetic, “I don’t recognize the name, perhaps if you describe him to me.”

  I smiled inwardly. I already had the address and their last name, anything more was icing on the cake. “Certainly ma’am, he’s a young fellow, younger than me, perhaps seventeen years old by his features. He’s got sandy brown hair and brown eyes and he stands about so tall.” I held my hand up near my face to indicate my estimate of her brother’s height.

  She frowned, “That sounds just like my brother sir, but his name is Peter, not John, so I doubt it could be him.”

  I let my eyes widen in excitement, “Is your brother in Miss? Perhaps he knows the fellow I’m looking for… if I could just talk to him for a moment.”

  I could see her hesitate as she considered my words. “Well sir, he’s home at the moment but he’s not in a mood for visitors,” she said finally.

  I gave her a look of sincere disappointment, “Please Miss, it would mean a lot to me.”

  “Alright, just let me fetch him,” she said with a sigh. “The house isn’t fit for visitors so you’ll have to wait out here.”

  I told her I didn’t mind and she shut the door. Inwardly I was congratulating myself. I might not be as good at courting and wooing women as Marc was, but I had a fair hand in dealing with people in general. After a minute or two the door opened again, this time fully, and standing in it was the man I had followed here, Peter Tucker. He didn’t look very happy to see me.

  He’d be even less happy if he knew who I really was, I thought. I held out my hand but kept my face neutral. A smile might have annoyed him given his current mood. “Sorry for bothering you, my name is Stephen Dryer. I’m looking for a friend named John Wheeler.”

  He shook my hand carefully, but didn’t make the gesture any friendlier than it had to be. “Looks like you wasted your time, there’s nobody by that name around here. What did you want to find him for?” he asked.

  “Just wanted to let him know about a job. He’d been lookin’ for a while he said. I wanted to let him know about this one before he ran off and… well never mind,” I said, as if I had reconsidered my words.

  Peter’s eyes lit with interest at the word ‘job’. “What sort of job was it? I might be interested,” he said.

  I paused, frowning, as if I was giving serious thought to the question. “Well I don’t know if I should be sharing, since I don’t know how many men they need…,” I let my sentence trail off uncertainly.

  “I don’t want to come between you and your friend, but if they need more than one man I could use some luck right about now,” he said carefully, as if he was afraid he might scare me off. Now that I had him it was time to set my hook and see what sort of information I could catch.

  I looked him up and down. “You seem like an alright fellow, and truth is I might not run into John for a few days. I don’t think the offer will be open that long so I might as well help you out.” My mind raced while my tongue wagged, I needed a job that might entice this young man. His reaction would tell me much, but on the off chance he didn’t give anything away a job that interested him might allow me to keep the conversation going longer. Unfortunately I knew very little about him, other than the fact he wasn’t very muscular.

  “What sort of job is it?” he asked, obviously somewhat anxious. As he spoke he lifted his hand to his face, scratching the stubble of his fledgling beard; that was when I spotted the ink stain.

  “Well before you go getting excited I should tell you first that the job needs someone that knows his letters,” I informed him.

  “Ha!” said Peter excitedly. “No problem there.”

  “Really?” I said with feigned surprise, for less than a third of the common folk could read.

  “My dad taught me, and I even had a job as a clerk for a while,” he said proudly.

  I grinned and slapped my leg. “This might be your lucky day then!” I said excitedly. “One of the nobles is looking for a messenger and junior scribe to come work for him, and the pay is supposedly good.”

  The younger sister had been listening behind the door, but this news was too good for her to keep her distance. She darted her head around the doorframe, “That would be perfect Peter! Think of what we could…”

  “Lily!” he barked. “Go inside and stop eavesdropping!” Her face flinched at his tone and she ducked inside and shut the door. He turned back to me before speaking again, “Which noble is it?”

  “The new Protector of the Northern Reach,” I answered loudly, “the Count di’Cameron, don’t ask me to tell you his proper name though, I can never keep it straight.” I told him this with some enthusiasm but I was watching him closely to see his reaction. I needn’t have bothered; he didn’t hide his disdain at all.

  Peter spat on the ground in disgust. “Bah! I’d rather work shoveling manure for the rest of my life as take a job for that blood-thirsty whoreson!” he announced.

  I gave him a shocked look, “Well I didn’t think you’d be offended…” I was hoping he might feel like elaborating on his reasons.

  Peter started to open his mouth but then he shut it again, thinking carefully. Finally he replied, “Sorry, it really isn’t your fault. I’ll let you get back to looking for your friend.” He turned and headed into back inside, but he was visibly upset.

  “Let me give you the details in case you change your…,” the door closed before I could finish. I stared blankly at it for a moment. I had hoped to find out more than that. To hell with it, I thought. I knocked on the door again.

  Lily opened it and this time she didn’t bother hiding behind it. “I’m sorry. Peter’s not interested in that job.”

  “Here, let me at least tell you the address, in case he changes his mind. They might have a job that would suit you as well,” I suggested.

  Her face hardened. “There’s no way either one of us would ever work for that bastard,” she said evenly and there was steel in her voice.

  My ruse had run its course, and there wasn’t much hope I could get anything else from it so I took a chance on a direct question, “But why not?”

  Her expression changed then, it wasn’t the burning fury I had seen the first time she looked upon me… this was a look of despair mixed with resentment, a cooler anger, more acceptable for sharing with a stranger. “He killed our grandfather,” she said coldly, and then she shut the door. There was no doubt in my mind the conversation was over now.

  I stood still for a long moment, before turning away. A chill had washed over me, leaving me numb as I started walking toward home. He killed our grandfather, she said over again in my mind. I wasn’t sure who her grandfather was, but a deep sense of guilt welled up. I had killed many men, but I only knew the names of a few.

  I walked without paying attention to my direction, wandering aimlessly while my mind ran in circles. He killed our grandfather. I wondered how many families cursed me in Gododdin as well; I had killed many more of their men. Assuming any of their families survived to hate me, considering Mal’goroth’s assertion that h
e would sacrifice the families of any soldier I killed.

  Memories of the past year chased each other through my mind, memories of people that had died. This is the Tucker residence, she had said. Tucker! I screamed inwardly as I remembered. “Jonathan Tucker!”

  When I had come to ‘liberate’ my goods from the royal warehouse last year, I had used my power to destroy a steel gate and inadvertently killed an old guard. The heavy metal had been blown backward with incredible force, completely severing his head. The tag carefully sewn into his shirt had read, Jonathan Tucker. Had I just met the girl that had embroidered that tag? Unbidden a vision of a thirteen year old girl diligently working to mend her grandfather’s shirt rose in my mind, tormenting me.

  Did they have any other family? Had the old man been their only income? Was young Peter now desperate to find work to support his sister? These questions and many more ate at my conscience. Even if I wanted to help them they would not accept my aid. I walked without purpose or direction for an hour more before I finally resolved to find some way to help them.

  It didn’t ease the black cloud in my heart, but it gave me enough purpose to return home at last. Harold was very happy to see me, in the sense that he was fairly put out. Being his lord though he was obliged to keep much of his opinion to himself and when he saw my face he knew better than to try and pester me about abandoning him.

  I ignored his questions and sought privacy in my room, locking the door behind me. Then I stared at the ceiling for a long time.

  Chapter 23

  The next day started much as I had anticipated. Rose and Marc were both in good moods and feeling entirely too chatty. I ignored them through most of breakfast. Eventually of course they tired of my reticence and started asking more direct questions. I suspect Marc would have waited, he knew me well enough to recognize my moods, but Rose was having none of it.