The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  When they arrived at the office the princes shared, Loriot stepped back to allow Savarin to precede him into the room. Apparently the surprises were not over. He’d expected Prince Philip and Lord Etan, perhaps Prince Amory if he was free and felt like joining them. He got the princes, Lord Etan, Duke Cathal, and even Lord Flavian, an artist and the duke’s husband who did not involve himself in government affairs to Savarin’s knowledge. Lord Flavian was tucked away in a corner of the room, fingers smoothing over the leather binding of what Savarin thought was a sketchbook. Why were all of them—and Loriot—present for what was meant to be a meeting in which he reported his lack of progress? What had happened that he didn’t know about? That Loriot didn’t know about?

  He hid his confusion and bowed to the assembled members of the royal family.

  “Come in, Master Savarin, and sit,” Prince Philip said.

  “You as well, Captain,” Prince Amory said from Prince Philip’s side. “Sit, please.”

  Savarin took a chair in front of Prince Philip’s desk, aware that Loriot wasn’t following him. If Savarin knew Loriot at all, he could guess Loriot would choose to stand despite Prince Amory’s invitation. From the amusement in Prince Amory’s eyes, Savarin assumed he was correct.

  “What do you have to tell us, Master Savarin?” Prince Philip asked, obviously choosing to ignore Loriot’s decision to stand. But then Prince Philip probably knew Loriot as well from years of exposure to the man—not in the way Savarin did, but knew him nonetheless.

  Savarin considered what to say for a moment, as if he hadn’t been thinking about it all day—aside from his interlude with Master Corentin, which was not something he could afford to think about at the moment. He hadn’t come to much of a conclusion as to whether he should outright admit his lack of progress or talk around it, but the men in this room were all intelligent enough to see through any obfuscation on his part even if they didn’t know magic.

  Truth, then.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much more to tell you than I did the last time I was here, Your Highness. I’ve continued my studies, but I’m still missing important information.”

  Prince Philip nodded and glanced at Prince Amory to his right, and then off out of Savarin’s field of vision, presumably to Lord Etan and Duke Cathal, as if checking with them, confirming something, but Savarin was mystified about what could be happening.

  “Are you still looking for—what did you call it?—what the spells are anchored to?” Prince Philip asked when he looked back at Savarin.

  “Yes, Your Highness. There has to be something feeding these spells, giving them a firm base to keep them from losing strength after so many years. Unfortunately, with the lack of records, I can’t begin to guess what it is.”

  “We believe we know what it might be.”

  Savarin almost fell out of his chair. “You what? Your Highness.”

  Prince Philip only raised an eyebrow at his lapse and turned his attention to the side. “Etan?”

  “I’ve been working in the private archive, looking for anything that might help you, and I found something that I believe holds the answer you need,” Lord Etan said.

  “What is it, my lord?” Savarin asked, remembering to tack on the honorific despite wanting to snap out demands.

  “It’s… it’s us, I suppose you could say.” Lord Etan continued before Savarin could express his confusion. “From what I read, I believe that the spells were tied to the royal bloodline and the Talent it carries.”

  Savarin opened his mouth and closed it several times without saying anything. He must look like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to say. How had he not known this piece of information? Why had they not told him? “A Talent in the royal family? I’ve never heard of its existence.”

  “You wouldn’t have,” Prince Philip said. “The royal family’s Talent is a well-kept and closely guarded secret. Before we go any further, I must have your assurance that what we’re about to tell you will never be repeated. I need your oath, Master Savarin.”

  Savarin snapped his mouth shut on his immediate response at the prince’s words.

  “Keeping our Talent a secret protects the royal family and protects Tournai. Perhaps in more ways than we originally thought, if what Etan found is true,” Duke Cathal said. “Perhaps this is even the primary reason it was kept a secret—we’ll probably never know. But our Talent has always been secret, known only to the family, and it will continue to be so.”

  “We’re only making an exception for you because of your work with the protection spells,” Lord Etan said, picking up where his brother left off. “If this wasn’t necessary information for you to have, we wouldn’t be telling you or anyone else.”

  Savarin wanted to be incensed by the warnings, to be angry at this knowledge being kept from him. Because he wanted to have known about a Talent in the royal family, felt he should have known. For the Talent to have been kept secret for so long, it must be something special. Perhaps powerful or unique.

  But what was his curiosity in the face of the security of Tournai and its royal family?

  “I promise, Your Highness. No one will hear of this from me.”

  Philip watched him closely for a moment and then nodded. “I assume you’ve heard of the legends of Tournai’s cats.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” Who hadn’t? The legends told of huge cats that had fought for Tournai in long ago wars, saving it from the aggressions of its invaders. It was said that the cats would always return to protect Tournai. The stories were vague and details varied, but the power and ferociousness of the cats were constants. The seal of the royal family included a representation of one of the cats, and the legends were passed on generation after generation, adding layers to the mystery that surrounded Tournai. He was more inclined to believe that the stories were just stories, or perhaps representations in some way of the protection spells he was currently studying. Something magic that protected Tournai—it made sense.

  “They’re not entirely legends,” Lord Etan said. “Or I should say, there is some truth to the legends.”

  “What do you mean?” He glanced between the faces of the men in front of him, but none gave him a clue as to what was going on.

  “Best to show you,” Lord Etan said and turned to his brother. “Cathal?”

  Duke Cathal narrowed his eyes at Lord Etan, but he said nothing, only stood from his chair and took a step away from it. Savarin was about to ask what was going on when the duke closed his eyes and took a breath. An instant later, he was obscured by swirling, sparkling amber-gold light. Savarin sat forward. What kind of magic was this? What was it doing? His own Talent wasn’t telling him much, but he didn’t have much chance to do anything because as quickly as it appeared, the glow of light disappeared. Leaving a huge, dark cat where Duke Cathal had stood.

  “What….” He stared at the cat. The cat that had the duke’s eyes.

  “This is the royal family’s Talent, Master Savarin,” Prince Philip said, though the words seemed to reach Savarin from a much longer distance. “The ability to turn ourselves into cats, some of us anyway.”

  Savarin couldn’t take his eyes off the cat that was apparently Duke Cathal. The cat seemed to bore of the staring and went to where Lord Flavian sat, sitting beside him. Lord Flavian brought a hand up and rested it on the cat’s shoulder, which was nearly at level with his own with them both seated. The cat—Duke Cathal—sent what seemed to be an affectionate look at Lord Flavian and then faced Savarin again.

  This was the royal family’s Talent? He’d never seen anything like what the duke just did.

  “Master Savarin?” Lord Etan asked, recalling his attention to the present.

  “Yes, Lord Etan. I can see how you would think the legends stem from your family’s Talent.” He couldn’t look away from Duke Cathal quite yet.

  “I assume you can also see the need for it to remain a secret,” Prince Philip said.

  “Yes, Your Highness. Especially if it�
��s somehow related to the protection spells.” If everyone knew of the royal family’s Talent, Tournai would be vulnerable. Tournai’s enemies would only have to target the royal family to also break the protection spells.

  Lord Etan took over again. “From what I was able to find, it is. There may be more I haven’t found yet, but I think I have most of it. The papers I read seem to be notes made by a sorcerer and the reigning prince at the time indicating they were putting the protection spells into place to protect Tournai from magical attack after the wars. Prince Gaeton seemed to hope they could make the protections do more than that, but I haven’t found anything about whether they tried. The sorcerers who put the spells into place knew they needed more to anchor it to than just the land.”

  “Because over time the magic would weaken with nothing feeding it, sustaining it,” Savarin said.

  Lord Etan nodded. “They, and Prince Gaeton, chose the royal family—the bloodline and the Talent carried within it.”

  Savarin’s thoughts were racing almost too fast for him to keep up with. What Lord Etan said made sense, and hadn’t he thought once or twice of something like this? But he hadn’t known of the Talent in their bloodline, and the thoughts had always been vague and half-formed. “I need to see the papers.”

  “They can’t be removed from the archives. The spells protecting it prevent any of the papers or books from being removed,” Lord Etan said.

  He stood. “Then take me up, and I’ll read them there.”

  “I can’t. The spells only allow blood members of the royal family up there, and not even all of them,” Lord Etan said. “I’ve told you that.”

  He had to see those papers. Lord Etan wasn’t a sorcerer, even if he did have the royal family’s Talent, and he wouldn’t know what Savarin needed from the records. “Spells can be broken. All spells. Take me there, and I’ll get in.”

  “No.” Prince Philip’s voice was whip-sharp, cutting through the plans Savarin was already making. “We won’t, and you won’t.”

  “I need to see those papers. I can break the spells protecting the archive with no harm done.”

  Prince Philip stood to face him. “Except the archive will be unprotected. The spells were put into place for a reason. To protect sensitive information from those outside the family. You will not tamper with the spells. You’ll find there will be consequences if you disobey me.”

  “From the spells?” Were there traps and protections built into them that would harm someone trying to break them? He’d seen that before. It made the work more difficult but didn’t present an insurmountable obstacle.

  “From me. Those spells will stay in place exactly as they are now. Do you hear me?”

  He wanted to argue; he wanted to insist. It was for the good of Tournai that he see the papers. No one could deny that, and no one should be denying him access to what he needed. But the prince was. The crown prince of Tournai. Savarin dragged himself back from the edge. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “You can read Etan’s notes, and he can copy out the relevant passages for you if you need to see the exact text,” Prince Philip said, his voice hard, brooking no argument. “At this point I’m reluctant to let even the notes and copies leave the palace for fear that they might fall into the wrong hands.”

  “My home is secure, Your Highness,” Savarin said, modulating his tone to one far more appropriate for speaking with the prince. “I would protect the information.”

  “I trust that you would, Master Savarin. You’ve always been someone we could trust,” Prince Philip said and took his seat again. “But papers can be seen or stolen before you even get back to your house. Come back in the morning. The copies will be ready for you then, and we’ll have decided.”

  Savarin wanted to press, but nothing good would come from insisting on his way. Not after he’d angered Prince Philip already. He bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Chapter 20

  LORIOT FOLLOWED Savarin from the princes’ study and closed the door gently behind himself. Savarin was already halfway down the corridor, and he hurried to catch up, finally falling into step beside Savarin as he turned the corner.

  He couldn’t believe the way Savarin spoke to Prince Philip—or perhaps he could. Savarin was nothing if not arrogant, and Loriot had witnessed firsthand his single-minded determination to have everything the way he wanted it. Just because Loriot hadn’t seen that side of Savarin turned on himself lately didn’t mean he could forget it existed. Savarin was only lucky that Prince Philip had chosen to verbally reprimand him, but, then, Prince Philip wasn’t known for being needlessly harsh.

  Of course Loriot had no idea what Prince Philip would do if Savarin actually broke the spell that kept him out of the archive. But Savarin was more sensible than that.

  Wasn’t he?

  “Savarin.” Loriot lengthened his strides to keep up with Savarin’s longer ones. “Are you all right? What are you going to do?”

  “Right now I have something to take care of at the university. Tomorrow I’ll present myself here and see what they’ve cobbled together to give me.” His lips twisted into a frown. “How I’m meant to solve this problem when I don’t have access to all of the relevant information—when that information is being kept from me—I’ll never understand.”

  By then they’d made it out of the wing where the princes’ suite and private study were located, and soon they’d be in a fairly well-trafficked area of the palace. “Come in here.” He took hold of Savarin’s arm and pulled him through an open door on the right. It was a small sitting room, and thankfully empty.

  “What are you doing, Loriot? I’m quite busy.”

  He closed the door and flipped the lock. “I’m aware of that. You’re also saying things in public corridors that you shouldn’t. Talk in here or don’t talk and calm yourself quietly, but you don’t want to act like this out there.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? I’m justifiably angry.”

  “With the crown prince of Tournai. That is not something to be in the corridors of the royal palace.” A bad idea, and disrespectful, even with a sovereign as fair as Prince Philip.

  “They kept information from me,” Savarin thundered. “Important information that I needed to resolve this—for the good of Tournai. Their Talent is the key to this, and if I’d known of it, I might have figured that out far sooner. And they’re continuing to keep me from information that could help.”

  Telling Savarin that he wasn’t more important than the security of Tournai and its royal family was not likely to placate the man. “They’ll give you the notes and transcriptions for you to work from.”

  “And what if something is copied incorrectly or isn’t complete? I need to look at the originals. I could get into that archive. I could break the spell.”

  “So you said. But despite what you can do, not every spell should be broken. They’ll give you the information, and if you need more, or you think something is wrong, I’m sure Lord Etan will check for you. They aren’t trying to obstruct you, Savarin, or they wouldn’t have you doing this in the first place. They didn’t have to tell you anything.”

  Savarin paced the room in jerky, angry motions. After a moment he heaved a sigh. “You’re probably right, but I still don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to. You have to accept it and go on with your work.”

  Savarin nodded with some reluctance and paced away again. Loriot assumed he’d be waiting awhile, but Savarin swung back around almost immediately. “You don’t seem very surprised by today’s revelations.”

  His stomach sank. He’d hoped Savarin wouldn’t notice. But Loriot wouldn’t lie. “I’m not.”

  “You knew. About their Talent.”

  “I found out just before we left on our trip.” Not that he’d been told. He’d seen Lord Etan using his Talent, which wouldn’t have happened if Lord Etan hadn’t been paying more attention to saving someone in danger than to Loriot’s presence.

  “You knew, and you didn’t
say anything. You didn’t tell me something that could have helped me.”

  “How was I to know what could have helped you? You didn’t even know what you were looking for. And even if you did, I still couldn’t have told you.” He gestured sharply when Savarin would have spoken. “I took an oath, Savarin. An oath as a member of the guard and then as its captain. I can’t break it. I can’t reveal secrets of the royal family.” The oath was one every guardsman took when entering royal service, and it held an element of magic to it. Guardsmen literally could not speak royal secrets. It was for the protection of the royal family who had to live surrounded by them. As captain, his oath had been modified, the magical component lessened so he probably could have spoken the words, but he was still under oath. More than that, he’d earned the trust of the royal family, and they had his loyalty. If Savarin couldn’t understand that, then they’d have trouble going any further together. “I won’t.”

  Savarin stared at him for long moments. Loriot could almost feel time ticking away as he wondered what Savarin would do and if their fledgling affair would end here because Savarin couldn’t accept Loriot’s commitments. But finally Savarin gave him a sharp nod, enough of an acknowledgment that relief swept through Loriot.

  “I have to go. As I said, I have something to deal with this afternoon. Thank you for giving me a few moments in private to calm down.”

  Loriot studied Savarin. “Are you calm?”

  Savarin barked out a short laugh. “No, but I’m calmer than I was. Which will have to do.”

  SAVARIN SPENT the next few days studying everything Lord Etan gave him. He read Lord Etan’s notes over and over, asking for clarification when he needed it, and scrutinized every word of the copies made for him. He didn’t hesitate either to send Lord Etan back into the royal archives for more information. He accepted the need to work in the palace—for the moment at least—but he wasn’t going to let lack of access to information hamper him if he could help it.