Thaumaturge

by Terry Mancour

  “No more than I,” Gurkarl agreed. “Yet I have traveled so far, and spoken so much, that I have oft wondered if you were doing me a boon that day or cursing me. Speaking of boons,” he said, changing the subject, “I think a more regular relationship between your new realm and Mekadarshku might be wise,” he proposed, hesitantly.

  “This was a novel situation,” I sighed. “Too many of my folk have suffered to consider an easy relationship.”

  “As have mine,” Gurkarl agreed. “Yet we have common foes, and are neighbors in these lands, of a sort. Consider the advantages of the arrangement,” he encouraged. “As much as your people may dislike it, it makes sense.”

  “I will consider it,” I conceded. “Let’s see if I’m still here, this spring. And if the Goblin King remains on his throne, too, perhaps we will correspond. Until then, tell him I will drink to his health and make no plots against him. He may take that for what it’s worth.”

  “I shall tell him,” Gurkarl agreed. “You should meet him. He’s actually quite an intelligent fellow. I feel he would have made a good monk, should he have been made a humani.”

  We rode together for a while longer before Gurkarl was called away to arbitrate a dispute between units in the column. That gave me a moment alone with Tyndal. I suppose I could have spoken with him in the privacy of our minds, but that seems rude to do in front of your friends.

  “This was a bold move, Sire Tyndal,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I’m fond of bold moves,” he answered. “I am sorry we had to conceal it from you, but if it had gone wrong, then you would have escaped blame.” His loyalty did him great credit, and I realized just how proud I was of the lad. He was riding his charger with the ease of a knight, not a former stableboy, and he commanded the men around him as if he was born to it. They, in turn, displayed the kind of attentive loyalty to the young knight mage that usually only an old campaigner can earn.

  “I did myself a boon, when I made you lord of Callierd,” I decided. “I made the grant originally to keep you from brooding about Rondal’s marriage. But instead of sulking in your castle and drinking yourself stupid, you’ve reclaimed the domain, re-peopled it, and raised quite the cavalry unit,” I praised.

  “I’m just getting started,” he promised. “And Rondal? I’m . . . I’m fine with him marrying Gatina,” he declared. “It’s not like we can’t still speak anytime we want. We’re wizards,” he shrugged. “If I need him, or he needs me, all we have to do is ask.”

  “Why didn’t you call him to assist for this campaign?” I asked, curious.

  “Because I didn’t really need him,” he explained. “There was only the one Nemovort. And a stupid one, too. Not even a dragon. As invasions go, he really wasn’t required for our defense. Besides, he and Gatina are busy with their new duties at court. I’d hate to drag him away from all of that exciting parchment work for a boring little war. You know how much he loves parchment.”

  “So, how well do you think your men did?” I inquired.

  “In truth? They could have been better,” he confided. “Oh, we did well enough, under the circumstances. But the army needs more training – even my lads,” he said, nodding toward another mounted warmage escorting the goblins. “They’re enthusiastic, but they need seasoning.”

  “Season them quickly,” I advised. “They will have to go into the field again in a few months. Spare them their duties for Yule, which approaches, but then they’re back to the butts and the tilting yard.”

  “Not until we properly celebrate,” Tyndal said, shaking his head. “It might have been a little war, but it’s one we shouldn’t have won, without magic. And steel. And horses. Men died. And we were victorious. Gareth is preparing a celebration for us when we get back to Vanador,” he informed me. “Ale, spirits, feasts, music, as much as he can manage. Rael is importing some specialties,” he added, with a grin. “We can start our training again after that. Well, after Yule. You know how much I like Yule.”

  “That will mark a year, since I was exiled,” I realized. “I’m nearly a third done with my sentence.”

  “And whence will you go, when it expires?” he asked. “Vanador? Or Sevendor?”

  “Wherever the gods – and the other powers of Callidore – take me, I suppose,” I grinned, weakly. “It’s not like I’ve had much of a choice!”

  “Few activities bind a community together more than surviving adversity, the ending of a war, most of all. The Vanadori discovered a common purpose and unrealized stores of civic pride, as the armies came marching back from Asgot Ford bearing only a few of their number, slain. There is no headier wine than Victory, and after Gaja Katar fell, Vanador drank deep.”

  From the Scrolls of Lawbrother Bryte the Wiser

  Chapter Forty-One

  Homecoming

  “Daddy!” Minalyan screamed, and threw himself at my knees. A moment later Ismina and Almina both joined him, and I was rendered immobile.

  “They missed you,” Sister Bethdra said, smiling warmly at the children’s reaction to my unexpected entrance. “They’ve been worried. They know there’s been . . . a conflict.”

  “It wasn’t a conflict; it was a battle!” Minalyan said, excitedly. “You were in a battle, weren’t you Daddy? Didja win?”

  “There was a battle,” I conceded, carefully. “And yes, we won. The Nemovort Gaja Katar was slain – by Ruderal, of all people,” I added.

  “Rudy?” Ismina asked, surprised and mystified. My apprentice, as an older child, had an almost mystical place in her mind. “He slew the beast?”

  “With his own hand,” I agreed, solemnly. “He stalked it through the frozen field and took his head from behind.”

  “Ruderal is a valiant soul,” Ismina declared, with the utmost seriousness and sincerest admiration. “His bravery knows no bounds!”

  “Rudy’s fun!” Almina added, grinning foolishly, as she clung to my belt. “He plays the best!”

  For her part, the nun who ran my household was startled. Sister Bethdra had a matronly attitude toward everyone in my household, but she was particularly fond of my young apprentice.

  “Ruderal? Slew . . . the wight?” she gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. “Trygg’s toenails, that’s a mighty feat!”

  “A Nemovort,” I corrected. “A powerful, ancient creature of the undead. Quite deliberately, too. I was too preoccupied with the battle to stop him. But I’m certain he’ll tell you the tale, if you ask him. He couldn’t fail to boast about it.”

  The nun snorted. “Him? Hardly. Rudy’s a gentle boy, and he rarely brags. Always seems to know just what to say. Is he with you?”

  “He’s bringing in my baggage. Where’s Alya?”

  “Dressing, my lord,” Sister Bethdra said, as she scooped up Almina before she could pull Ismina’s wimple down again. “She’s been preoccupied, herself, since she came back from Spellgate a few days ago. No doubt worried about your safety. As soon as she heard you’d returned, she wanted to change.”

  “No doubt,” I agreed. “Let me go greet her, and then I would love to eat. Luncheon, perhaps?”

  “I’ll have the girls set a table, my lord,” she assured me. “Let’s go, children! Let your father go greet Lady Alya and assure her he is hale after the battle!”

  The kids protested as their nanny herded them back to the chamber that served as their nursery, but were distracted soon enough. I vowed to make some time to grow re-acquainted with them, this winter . . . and Yule was approaching, I reminded myself. It was a festival for children, and they’d earned some parental indulgence.

  Alya was waiting for me in our chamber, and had just finished dressing. She excused her Tal Alon maid and embraced me warmly, and returned my kiss as passionately as I could ask.

  “The war is over?” she asked, hopefully.

  “This portion of it, at least,” I agreed, as she broke our embrace. I poured us both wine from the ewer on the table. “The battle went well – better than I could have ever expected.
We took few losses, while the goblins were all but annihilated. Terleman was magnificent. Everyone was.”

  “Yet . . . you seem troubled,” she observed, taking her glass. I was surprised. Alya hadn’t demonstrated much of that kind of empathy of other people’s emotional state. Or even sensitivity. Old Alya had, but it was something that New Alya struggled with.

  “I suppose I am,” I admitted, quietly. “I recruited the very best people I know and gave them the resources they needed to protect the Magelaw. And they did – brilliantly.”

  “So what concerns you?” she asked, curious.

  “I suppose it’s the fact that they really didn’t need me. At all. I figured I would have to come in and save the day at the last minute, but that wasn’t required.”

  “Is that not a boon, my husband?” she asked, confused. “It seems to me that your plans worked out for the best.”

  “They did,” I conceded with a sigh. “And that’s what concerns me. When I came to Vanador, I vowed to stop improvising as much, and do more planning. Not just plan, but to adhere to that plan until its conclusion. Things worked out precisely as they should have . . . and that just does not happen, very often.”

  “Is that not the purpose of planning?” she considered.

  “Certainly. It’s just not usually very successful. There’s usually a dragon hiding someplace, or a surprise invasion, or . . . or a legion of horrific undead, or giant wyverns or . . . a sudden explosion of spiders, or something. I kept waiting for that, the entire time. But it never happened. While that’s a good thing, it leads me to the unpleasant conclusion that the thorough, methodical application of a well-conceived plan is actually the best way to proceed.”

  “You sound surprised at that,” she said, smirking.

  “It’s just at odds with how most of my life has worked out,” I admitted. “And I’m not used to that. There weren’t any surprises, in this war. There are always surprises.”

  “Perhaps my husband will consider that he is merely discovering wisdom in the fullness of his experience?” she suggested. “It can happen, if you aren’t careful.”

  “I think it more likely that I just got lucky,” I countered. “We had a stupid foe who thought too much of himself and too little of us. We had more men in the field with more steel in their hands than I think anyone anticipated. We had ample warning and time to prepare,” I said, counting on my fingers. “We had fortuitous weather. And we faced a foe with poor morale and dissention in his ranks.”

  “Then take the victory as it is presented, my husband,” she suggested, gently. “Minalan, you’ve struggled so hard to make Vanador as prosperous as Sevendor, and managed far more than anyone expected. Accept your victory and enjoy it,” Alya urged. “Gareth has organized a grand celebration on the morrow. We are expected to attend. If you’re moody about winning, people will notice,” she teased, gently.

  “I’ll be jubilant, I promise,” I smiled. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I’m just getting . . . wise. Mature.”

  “We live in a world of wonders,” she agreed, sipping her wine. “I am proud of you and what you’ve accomplished here, Min. I know I haven’t been much help,” she admitted, guiltily, “indeed, I’ve been just another problem for you. But I have been watching you and what you have done quite carefully. I’ve listened to others about what they think. Vanador is what it is because of your influence and leadership. And it survives today because of your protection . . . even if you had no direct hand in it.”

  “Don’t mistake me, I’m gratified,” I insisted. “I wanted Vanador to be able to defend itself without me, and that’s essentially fulfilled by this war. I just hired the people to do so and then paid for it. Extravagantly. Which, while professionally gratifying, was personally unfulfilling.”

  “There is always your thaumaturgy,” she reminded me. “You still have that to play around with.”

  “I suppose I do,” I smiled. “And now that I know how strong we are, I do feel more secure in pursuing it. Perhaps if I devote more attention there, we will have some solutions sooner.”

  “You will also have more time to devote to family life,” she pointed out, diplomatically. “The children miss you terribly, when you’re gone. So does your wife. I feel so damn helpless, knowing that you’re worrying about me and I can’t do anything to help.”

  I winced, involuntarily. The last time she’d gotten involved with my work, she’d spent a year unconscious and nearly mindless. I’d orchestrated a ridiculously complex battle and imperiled the entire Kingdom to get her back.

  “The biggest help you can be to me is to keep getting well,” I said, gently. “The treatments seem to be working. Haven’t they?”

  “Yes, yes, I feel fine . . . mostly,” she insisted. “I still get flares of confusion and . . . other things. But they’re fewer, and farther between. I’m almost starting to feel like my old self.”

  “That’s wonderful!” I said, sincerely, as I patted her hand across the table. “I promise, after this celebration, and Yule, I’ll find some way for us to steal away and spend some time together,” I proposed. “A second honeymoon, perhaps.”

  She shuddered. “After what happened on our first honeymoon . . .”

  That took me aback. “What? You remember that?”

  Alya looked at me, confused. “Every bit of it. The barge trip, the pirates, the knights made of shrubbery, the troll, the . . . that horrible fight . . . all of it. Why?”

  “Because I have no recollection of it, whatsoever,” I informed her. “I only know what took place because we wrote it all down and wrapped it around a bottle of mead. Hells, if it hadn’t been for that, I never would have gone to Olum Seheri. But I still don’t remember a thing from that trip, besides . . . well, besides dancing for you,” I said with a blush.

  That bought me a giggle from her pretty lips. “Oh, I remember that particularly well! But whatever the Handmaiden is doing to my mind during these treatments, she long ago removed whatever blockages there were on my memory,” she told me. “I remember our entire honeymoon. And while the plant knights and the intelligent troll and the evil Alka Alon were interesting . . . the only parts I’d prefer to repeat involved you dancing.”

  “My lady wife,” I consoled her, with a grin, “that, I can definitely arrange.”

  ***

  Gareth spared no detail when he prepared Vanador to welcome home its victorious troops. And considering some of the entertainments Gareth had been responsible for in Sevendor, that was saying quite a bit.

  It helped that he had the massive Overhang to work with. Though the town was starting to out-grow the shadow of the great sheltering rock, Carmella and her many minions had kept the place open and spacious by design, so there were plenty of places for folk to gather. Gareth had organized a special reception at each prominent square in town, one for the infantry, one for the cavalry, one for the artillery, one for the militia, one for the medics, and so forth.

  For the warmagi, of course, he reserved the central square (or, rather, circle) in front of his office and the Temple of Briga and the bouleuterion. The circle was ringed with trestle tables bearing food and drink, and every nearby inn contributed a keg or a dozen bottles to thank the men who’d braved the cold and risked the punishment of Gaja Katar to protect the city.

  Each station had a massive magelight overhead, clinging near the Overhang’s roof itself, to illuminate the city in the gloomy daylight. Each celebration also had a set of performers to entertain the returning warriors, and volunteer hostesses to see to their comfort. There was dancing, speeches, recognition and rewards, tales of valiant action and even a few small plays featuring Duin the Destroyer, for those with a gory disposition. Ishi’s few priestesses wandered between the celebrants ensuring that everyone was having a good time, and the town watch made certain that the revelry did not get out of control.

  I made the rounds of every section, thanking, praising, and rewarding those who had served me so well. With Alya on my arm and
my retainers around me, the Count and Countess of the Magelaw were thorough with our recognitions. In three cases I ended up knighting young men on the spot for their valor in the field, and I raised one young knight to an estate for his especial service.

  The greatest lauds I reserved for Terleman, Carmella, Sandoval and Mavone, our bold commanders. Gareth and I toasted and feted them to the crowd all day and night, ensuring their names and deeds were known to all. That left them quite overwhelmed at the attention. Only Sandy seemed to enjoy it much. Terleman did his best to look reserved and stoic, but when the bulk of his professional peers had congratulated him on a masterful campaign, even he started to smile. A bit.

  The plentiful amount of spirits at the celebration helped. His glass was never more than a third empty all night long.

  When at last Alya insisted she was too tired to continue to yet-another reception, I sent her back to Spellmonger’s Hall with the exhausted children. But I continued to revel with my officers and greet the common folk of Vanador as the magelights twinkled overhead. Eventually, late that night, I found myself back in front of Gareth’s office, at one of the impressive trestle tables set for high-ranking guests.

  “Well, it’s no Ishi’s Night,” Arborn sighed, as he settled in at the High Table in the square. Pentandra had sent him in her stead, when news of our victory arrived in Enultramar. “But then again, that’s for the best. A well-earned celebration for a hard fought victory,” he said, raising his drinking horn in a toast. “To Vanador!”

  “To the Magelaw!” I agreed, tapping my heavy golden wineglass against his horn. I know, I know, it was ostentatious as hell, but it was a gift. And I was a Count. And the Spellmonger. There were people watching. I had expectations to fulfill and appearances to keep. “Your folk were outstanding in their defense of Lotanz,” I observed, “and your Kasari rangers are without peer. Once the snows melt, I look forward to touring Osbury and seeing what you’ve done with the place.”