The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  “My son, lecturing at the university.” She always marveled at what he did. Or she had after she stopped worrying. When his Talent came upon him, it came violently and surprised everyone. The sorcerer who arrived to clean up the mess had taken one look at him and taken him on as a student, becoming his mentor. Firmin’s calm explanations and arguments were what had convinced his family to let him go at the time. “I’m very proud of you. Will you lecture there again?”

  “I’m sure I will, but not right away. I have to leave Jumelle for a while.”

  “More of your traveling?” Mother asked. “I still can’t fathom all the places you’ve been.”

  “I won’t be leaving Tournai this time, just the city.” Though neither of his parents had been farther outside Jumelle than the surrounding countryside in their entire lives, so he doubted not leaving the country would make her better able to imagine it. He would’ve sent his parents on a trip somewhere if they would’ve gone. “I need to do some work for Their Highnesses.”

  “Well, if the princes are asking you to go, you can’t refuse.”

  He didn’t want to refuse, of course; he enjoyed his work for the princes far too much, enjoyed the magic far too much, to ever refuse. And he was finally investigating a magical phenomenon that had intrigued him for years. “No, but I’m looking forward to it. The work is going to be very interesting.”

  Mother bit her lip and glanced away, toward Louna who was quietly nibbling her bread with honey while they spoke, and back to him. “It isn’t dangerous, is it? This work you’ll be doing?”

  “No, Mother, not at all.” He patted her hand, glad he could reassure her in that respect.

  She smiled. “I know you’re grown and you can take care of yourself, better than most folks can. But I worry. It’s what mothers do.”

  “No need to worry this time. I won’t be traveling alone in any case.” He didn’t know why he added that last part, especially when he was so set against Loriot’s presence, but some of the worry cleared from his mother’s eyes, and he couldn’t regret saying it.

  She put her other hand over his and squeezed slightly with her work-roughened fingers. “Good. That’s good. Eases my mind.”

  He stayed a little while longer, though not long enough to see his father and brother. The young children woke up from their naps, and he gave them their gifts, which they were delighted by, and which Louna kept reminding them to thank him for. He enjoyed seeing their happiness with the dolls and stuffed animals he’d brought for them. His oldest nephew scampered into the house as Savarin was taking his leave. The little boy smiled a gap-toothed grin and threw himself at Savarin for a hug, prompting Louna’s admonishment to leave his uncle be. But Savarin didn’t mind. He liked that Denis, at least, wasn’t nervous or scared of him. Liked his excitement over the books Savarin had brought. Denis had a thirst for learning already, and Savarin renewed his promise to himself to help him, and any of the others, pursue an education. He rather hoped Denis showed signs of a Talent as he got older too.

  He escaped out into the street not long after, promising Denis he’d see him as soon as he could, and strode though the narrow streets in the district until he came to a larger thoroughfare. He collected his horse from the inn where he’d left it and rode for home. It felt farther than only across the city, in distance, in time. He shook the tension from his shoulders and turned his mind to his mission.

  Chapter 6

  THEY LEFT at dawn at Loriot’s insistence. Savarin had picked their day of departure, but Loriot didn’t want to tarry in the city. The sooner they started the journey, the sooner they would return. They arranged to meet at the market gate, and when Loriot arrived just as dawn was lighting the sky, Savarin was already there, off to the side, near the city walls, sitting astride a black horse. Loriot raised a hand, but Savarin was already nudging his horse into motion, coming to join Loriot as they queued up with the other people making their way through the gates.

  The city guards stationed at the gate snapped to attention as soon as they saw Loriot’s uniform and waved him and Savarin through the gates immediately, ushering them around a farmer’s cart that was trying to enter the city. Savarin sent an unfathomable glance in Loriot’s direction and then moved ahead, through the gate and into the road beyond. Loriot shook his head and followed.

  Even in the early morning hours, they weren’t alone on the road. There were other travelers getting an early start and farmers and craftspeople driving their carts and wagons toward Jumelle and its markets. The road was one of the major roads in Tournai, and one of the oldest. Like all of the country’s major roads, it was paved, and their horses’ hooves and the clack of passing wagon wheels were loud on the stone. But the road wasn’t overly crowded, especially going away from the city, and they made the ferry landing in good time.

  They dismounted at the landing and paid the fee before leading their horses aboard the barge that would carry them across the wide span of the river. Loriot patted his horse’s neck and looked around, taking in the few other passengers boarding the barge before looking upriver at the trees and the sky lightening more each moment with the pink of dawn. He liked the early mornings, liked the peace of them. He always had, from when he was young and he’d ramble over his family’s estate before breakfast to his early years with the royal guard when he’d be up with the dawn for a moment of quiet before the rigorous training routine began. After Alain was born, he’d become even more enamored of the time, the hush before the day began.

  Loriot hadn’t planned on Alain, hadn’t given much thought to children of his own, but when his lover at the time had told him she was carrying his child, he couldn’t let her give the baby to an orphanage, not his child. Alain’s mother was a widow with children by her deceased husband. She and her sons were dependent on her husband’s family, one of lower-ranked nobility who wouldn’t have taken the addition of a child out of wedlock, or knowledge of an affair at all, kindly. Neither she nor Loriot had wanted to wed, though he would have married her had she wished it. Instead she’d had Alain and given him up to Loriot. He could tell it pained her to do so, but she hadn’t seen either of them since.

  It was during those early morning hours—Alain had risen with the sun from birth—that he’d settled into his role of father and truly fallen in love with his son. He loved walking through their small garden or standing at the window watching dawn light the city with Alain’s small body nestled trustingly in his arms. Alain still came to him early some mornings, wanting to snuggle with him, and he cherished that. Was it any wonder dawn was his favorite time of day?

  And he’d much prefer to be at home with Alain, despite the beauty of the dawn on the river.

  He and Savarin still hadn’t spoken a word, and he wondered if the entire trip would be as silent as the beginning had been. As much as Savarin’s willful resistance to Loriot’s presence and stubbornness in the face of Prince Philip’s order got on Loriot’s nerves, Loriot hoped not. Silence for as long as they would be gone would be beyond maddening.

  Beside him, Savarin stared off into the distance, but Loriot didn’t think he was seeing the landscape as Loriot did. What was Savarin thinking about that so distracted him? He had to concede that Prince Philip probably had a point in sending Loriot if Savarin was habitually so distracted. Still, Loriot took the opportunity to study Savarin surreptitiously.

  Savarin was a handsome man, far too handsome really. When Loriot had seen him for the first time years ago, he hadn’t quite been able to believe the man was real with his near-perfect features and tall, lean frame. Savarin’s aloofness and arrogance had convinced him otherwise. As always Savarin was dressed well and fashionably, but Loriot was glad to see his clothing was also practical for travel. He didn’t think he had ever seen Savarin less than perfectly attired in anything except the more formal clothes appropriate for the palace or the city, in rich silks and velvets all in saturated colors and excellent cuts, certainly from the best tailors in Jumelle.

&n
bsp; Savarin was just as meticulously dressed and groomed this morning, only his clothing was simpler and of sturdier fabrics. Loriot shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew Savarin traveled often, but he’d had a few concerns since he didn’t know how Savarin traveled. Savarin might have been used to far more luxury than they were likely to have on this trip. Loriot was relieved to see Savarin looking comfortable with their mode of travel, as if it wasn’t new to him. Savarin’s riding boots had obviously been worn often and the leather of his saddlebags was battered in a way that spoke of long use. But the less formal clothing didn’t take away from Savarin’s well-put-together image. Savarin’s pale blond hair was neatly ordered, barely tousled from their ride from the city, and shining in the glow of the rising sun. The strands fluttered in the slight breeze that blew on the river, and fell back into place as if by magic. He wondered if it was, but chided himself for thinking that Savarin would use magic for so trivial a reason. He didn’t think Savarin would.

  He wondered if the hair was as soft as it looked.

  The thought shocked him so much he had to stifle a gasp. Where had it even come from? He admitted with no hesitation that Savarin was a handsome man, but thinking about touching his hair, touching him, was a far cry from that acknowledgment. And it was not something he planned to ever do, or should even be thinking about. Protecting Savarin while he completed his mission for the princes was all that concerned him. He turned away from Savarin, back to the lightening sky over the trees.

  “Everything all right?”

  Loriot nearly jumped at the sound of Savarin’s smooth, cultured voice after so much silence. He turned to find himself the focus of an intense gray gaze. Had Savarin noticed Loriot’s attention? Nothing in Savarin’s gaze indicated he had, so Loriot would hope he hadn’t and act accordingly.

  “Fine. Why do you ask?” Loriot regarded Savarin just as steadily as Savarin seemed to be examining him.

  After a moment of silence, Savarin shrugged one shoulder in an elegant movement. “No reason.”

  He might have pressed, tried to ferret out what Savarin thought he saw, but the barge arrived at the far side of the river, and they became swept up in the process of disembarking among the other jostling travelers. They led their horses until they were clear of the ferry landing where another group of people was waiting to make the trip across the wide river in the opposite direction, and mounted up again once they neared the road. Savarin mounted the horse in one fluid movement, as comfortable on a horse as Loriot was it seemed, but Loriot couldn’t help but wonder how either of them would feel after a long ride. He wasn’t used to hours in the saddle.

  Silence stretched between them again as they rode side by side. Loriot let it until they were underway, riding west. When the sun was fully up and they were out of sight of the river and Jumelle, he glanced at Savarin. “Have you a plan for how we’re to go about this?”

  Savarin looked over at him with a brief raise of an eyebrow before turning back to the road. “I know what I need to do, yes.”

  He forced back impatience. He’d been told of what Savarin hoped to do, why they were traveling the country’s borders, by Lord Etan when he confessed that Savarin had told him nothing, but Lord Etan had only been able to give him the purpose of the trip, not how Savarin planned to accomplish it. “Are you planning on sharing it with me any time soon?”

  “I doubt you need to know the details of the magic. You don’t have a Talent for sorcery or any training in it, do you? You wouldn’t understand what I’m going to do.”

  Irritation twined with impatience, but he kept his voice even. Starting an argument would get him nowhere, even if Savarin’s condescending tone and stubborn, close-mouthed attitude were difficult. “No, I wouldn’t understand the nuances of the magic you plan to perform, but I need to know your plans if I’m to do my duty on this journey.”

  Savarin flicked another glance in his direction but, to Loriot’s surprise, deigned to answer his question. “I’m investigating the magical protections around Tournai, both to search for spots that may have weakened and why, and to learn what I can of the protections themselves and how they were set, since the spells have been lost to time. Probably deliberately.”

  The last couple of words were muttered and even harder to hear than the rest of Savarin’s statement, which had been said quietly. Loriot understood why, though there wasn’t anyone close enough to hear them. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I need to get close enough to feel the magic of the protections, and then I can examine them with my Talent.”

  “How close?”

  “Close. Often I’ll need to be right at the border. I should be able to use my Talent to feel for weak areas as we ride, but I’ll need to stop to examine them more closely if we find any, and I’ll need to stop periodically to use my Talent for a deeper look at the spells themselves. Maybe once or twice each day.”

  While Savarin spoke, Loriot calculated distances and time, and he wasn’t pleased with what his quick calculations produced. He hadn’t realized just what this mission entailed, and he was less than thrilled now he did. Not that he had any choice in the matter. “This is going to take months, not weeks.”

  Savarin seemed surprised at the interruption and frowned. “It won’t, or we won’t let it. We’ll ride the western border this trip, and I’ll see what I find. I’ve already ridden much of the eastern border. I’m hoping this trip will be enough for me to estimate how weakened the protections are and possibly to get a sense of the spells. Enough of one to let me do further research on strengthening them overall instead of just patching the weak spots. Which I’ll do if I have to, but I’d rather deal with the whole instead of slapping on patches here and there.”

  “Because patches wouldn’t be as strong.” Savarin seemed even more surprised by Loriot’s comment than he had by the earlier interruption. Did Savarin really think him that stupid? “Patches are never as strong as rebuilding the whole, in anything.”

  “Yes,” Savarin said after another moment of staring at Loriot. “I’m hoping examining the spells closely will give me some answers so I won’t have to resort to patches.”

  Loriot nodded, and they rode in silence for a while longer. What Savarin said made sense, even without any magical knowledge. Though Loriot had done his best to gain some. He guarded the royal family; he needed all the knowledge he could get to do so. He wanted to ask Savarin more, about the protections, about how Savarin would examine them, but he let that lie for the moment.

  “All right,” he finally said. Perhaps breaking this endeavor down would make it seem somewhat more manageable. He didn’t want to think about months away from Alain and from the palace. “What’s your plan for today? What do you hope to accomplish?”

  Another indefinable glance thrown in his direction. Loriot was beginning to hate them, and it was only their first morning out. He was going to have to draw on a lot of patience if he didn’t want to commit murder on this trip.

  “I want to get as close as we can to the border before we stop for the night. We’ll still have a way to travel tomorrow to reach it, but the farther we get today the better. Since we left so early, we should be able to make a good distance today. We can stop at an inn for the night and get an early start again tomorrow.”

  He rolled his eyes but otherwise refrained from reacting to Savarin’s intimation that their early start had been his idea and not Loriot’s. “What about the coast?”

  They’d taken the road that was the most direct route from Jumelle to the border Tournai shared with Amaranta, but the road curved north, away from the coast, long before it hit the border. Loriot didn’t know if Savarin would want to backtrack south when they did get to the border before doubling back and continuing north, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to think about such an action, and the time it would take, yet. He shouldn’t complain about the time, though; what Savarin was doing was important to Tournai.

  “What about it?”

  “Do the p
rotections extend along the coastline, and are you checking those as well?” He didn’t see a reason why the protections wouldn’t cover the coastline.

  “I believe they do. I can feel the… hum of them,” Savarin said, looking for a moment as if he was struggling for words but continuing just as quickly. “But they’re not on the coastline the same way they’re at the land borders. They’re farther out into the water somehow. I’ll need to take a boat out when we return to Jumelle to figure out exactly where they are and if they’re intact.”

  Loriot only nodded. It didn’t sound as if Savarin planned for them to find a boat together so he wouldn’t worry about that portion of Savarin’s plans. He thought of the map of Tournai that he’d long since memorized. “We should be able to make Vrille tonight if we keep up this pace and don’t run into any delays.”

  He nearly groaned as soon as he said it, knowing what such a pronouncement would do to their luck, but he didn’t expect Savarin’s laughing snort of amusement. “Well now you’ve done it. We won’t make it anywhere near Vrille tonight.”

  Despite the potential effects of Loriot’s statement, their day’s travel continued smoothly. No disasters befell them on the road, which was in as good a condition as Loriot expected of Tournai’s major roads. While more travelers took to the roads as the day wore on, there were never so many as to slow their progress. And the weather remained clear and pleasant. When Loriot made an idle comment on it to fill the silence, Savarin only said of course. He didn’t put it past Savarin to have some knowledge of the weather that average people wouldn’t, but Savarin didn’t seem inclined to share if he did.

  For the most part he let other attempts at conversation go after that. They’d stopped for a midday meal and to rest the horses at an inn doing a bustling business catering to travelers like them—or well, travelers since he doubted any of the others were on a mission for the princes involving complex sorcery. And a complex sorcerer. He eyed Savarin but kept quiet, concentrating on the surprisingly good meal in front of him until it was time to get back on the road.