Luck in the Shadows n-1 Read online

  "Come, you must keep up your own strength if you are to be any help to him," said Nysander, taking

  him gently by the arm. "It is just across the corridor. We shall leave both doors open and come back with our wine as soon as we have eaten."

  Wethis was busy setting out the meal on a round table at the center of the room and nodded pleasantly to Alec as they entered.

  After the massive clutter of the upper rooms, Alec was surprised at the orderliness of Nysander's sitting room. The small chamber was furnished for simple comfort; beyond a round din— jng table, two large chairs faced one another in front of the blazing hearth. Shelves along the walls held neatly arranged collections of scrolls and books interspersed with more arcane objects.

  The room's most notable feature was a narrow band of mural running completely around the otherwise unadorned walls. It was scarcely two feet in width but Alec discovered upon closer inspection that it was comprised of a succession of fantastic beasts and birds rendered in superb detail. Here a tiny dragon hovered on scaly outstretched wings over a still smaller castle, blasting it with a glowing stream of fiery breath; there a centaur raiding party bore maidens away in sinewy arms. Farther along the same wall an horrific sea creature reared up from painted waves, spines bristling from its reptilian face as it crushed a ship in its jaws. Near the first corner a creature with the body of a lioness and the breasts and head of a woman held the limp form of a youth between her taloned paws.

  Interspersed among these scenes were symbols that gave back a silvery sheen in the light.

  Suddenly he heard an amused chuckle behind him.

  "My little paintings please you, I see," the wizard said.

  Alec realized with chagrin that he'd been following the mural around the room with complete disregard for his host. Turning, he found Nysander seated at the table. Wethis was nowhere to be found.

  "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be rude," he stammered as he hastily took a seat.

  "No need for apologies. It has that affect on most who see it for the first time. As a matter of fact, that is part of its function."

  "You mean it's magical?" In spite of his hunger, Alec found it difficult to draw his eyes from the paintings.

  Nysander raised one shaggy eyebrow in amusement.

  "Forgive me, but it is always refreshing to meet someone as ingenuous as yourself. So many who come here expect revelations of mythic proportions—dragons under the wine table, spirits summoned down the chimney! They have no awe left in them for the little marvels. All their wonder has turned to appetite.

  "In answer to your question, however, the mural is indeed magical. Its purpose, aside from dazzling my dinner guests, is to protect my rooms. The symbols you see there are each keyed to react to a different sort of intrusion. You will find them throughout the Orлska House. Perhaps you noticed the ones in the dome upstairs? The entire building is protected by an elaborate pattern of magicks—But I am keeping you from your meal! Let us talk of little things as we eat. After dinner we shall converse in a civilized fashion over the wine."

  Alec began cautiously, recalling the fiery spices of the day before, but each successive dish was more agreeable than the last.

  "Seregil told me that wizards come to Rhнminee to be trained," he ventured at last.

  "Wizards, scholars, madmen, they come seeking the knowledge amassed and preserved by the Third Orлska. There is more than magic here, you see. We gather information of all types. Our library is the finest in the Three Lands, and the vaults below contain artifacts which predate the coming of the Hierophants."

  Alec laid aside his knife. "Why is it called the Third Orлska?"

  "The first mages who came here from Aurлnen were the original Orлska," Nysander explained. "It was they who first taught that knowledge is as powerful, in its own way, as any magic, and that magic without knowledge is worse than useless; it is dangerous. Later, they established the Second Orлska at Ero when magical powers became apparent among the half-blood children of Aurлnfaie and humans.

  "Unfortunately, the fellowship of the Second Orлska was all but annihilated during the Great War. There have never been as many wizards since that time. Another blow befell it when Ero was destroyed.

  "A terrible tragedy, so many of the ancient writings lost! Queen Tamir bequeathed this site to the surviving wizards at the founding of Rhнminee, with the understanding that they would contribute to the defense of Skala. The new alliance established at that time was deemed the Third Orлska. The Cirna Canal was one of the first demonstrations of their good faith."

  "I've heard something of that. How many wizards are there now?"

  "Only a few hundred in all the Three Lands now, I fear. Fewer and fewer children are being born with the power; the blood of the Aurлnfaie masters has grown thin."

  "But don't the children of wizards inherit their powers?"

  Nysander shook his head. "There are no children of wizards. It is perhaps the greatest price we pay for our gifts. Magical abilities demand every bit of creative force we possess. We are repaid richly with powers and long lives, but the force of Illior which gives us the ability to recreate the world around us also burns out the natural procreative forces of the body. The Immortal has never revealed why this must be so, even to the Aurлnfaie— But I am lecturing you as if you were a novice! Let us return to your room. Seregil is still deep within himself and shall likely remain so for some time, but I believe it will benefit him to have us nearby."

  Nysander took down two tall goblets from a nearby shelf and handed one to Alec. The boy turned it about in disbelief, never having seen its like. Carved from flawless rock crystal, it was banded around the stem and cup with heavily embellished gold and polished red gems that glowed like wine in the firelight.

  "I could just use my cup from supper," Alec protested, holding it gingerly in both hands.

  "Nonsense!" Nysander grabbed up a decanter from the sideboard and headed across to the bedchamber. "I nearly lost my life acquiring them. It would be a waste not to use them."

  They found Seregil still sleeping deeply.

  "Let us sit close by him." Nysander gave Alec another roguish wink. "You shall surrender the chair to me out of deference to my great age. You can sit on the end of his bed. Some part of him knows we are

  here and it will comfort him."

  Alec settled cross-legged with his back against the footboard. Nysander filled their goblets with red wine and raised his cup at Alec.

  "Drink up! This is talking wine and I know you have many more questions. I can see them swarming about like bees behind your eyes."

  Alec took a long sip and felt a comfortable warmth spread through him. "I'd like to know more about that disk. What was it you called it?"

  "A telesm. A magical object which has an innate power of its own that can also be used as a focus of power by one who understands its function. The poison it was coated with would aid in this, as Valerius and I discussed last night. Unfortunately, there is little more I can tell you of it."

  "Well, what about that dark creature Seregil kept claiming to see? Was that real?"

  The shadow of a frown flickered across Nysander's lined face. "I shall need to hear Seregil's account to be certain. Whatever the case, someone was taking a great deal of trouble and effort to find both you and the disk."

  Alec looked up sharply. "You think they might still be after us?"

  "Quite possibly. But you have nothing to fear, dear boy. I have placed the disk beyond their reach. If anyone was following you, I think that they found a cold trail the moment I contained it in that jar, or perhaps even when you pulled it from Seregil's neck. So long as you remain within the walls of the Orлska, an army could not get to you."

  "But if Mardus is such a powerful wizard—"

  "Mardus is no wizard!" Nysander fixed Alec with an appraising look. "What I tell you now must go no further, is that understood? I repeat, he is not a wizard. Mardus is one of the most powerful Plenimaran nobles, also rum
ored to be a bastard son of the aging Overlord. Whatever the case, he is a ruthless man of cruel and dangerous intelligence, a cunning warrior, and a known assassin. It was most unfortunate for him to have looked upon your faces that night in Wolde; let us hope he never does so again. But I did not bring you here to frighten you more than you have been these last few weeks, so I am going to ply you with more of this excellent wine and turn to less worrisome topics. Did Seregil tell you that he was once apprenticed to me?"

  "No, but Micum did, back in Boersby." Alec watched the play of the firelight in the crimson depths of his cup. For all the days of talking on the Downs and after, Seregil had never once spoken of his own past. "Micum said something about it not working out."

  Nysander smiled at him over the rim of his goblet.

  "That, dear boy, is a magnificent understatement. No wizard ever had so devoted or disastrous a pupil! But I shall begin at the beginning. Seregil came to Idrilain's court as a poor and distant relation, exiled from his family, totally alone. At court they tried to make a page of him, but that did not last long—as you may well imagine. Next came a position as a junior scribe, I believe. Again failure. After one or two other such fiascoes, he came to my attention.

  "I was delighted to get him, and could not believe my good fortune. He has the ability, you see, and he was so eager to learn. But after a few months it became apparent that something was wrong. He mastered the rudimentary disciplines with an ease which delighted us both, but as soon as we tried to move on to the higher magicks, things began to go awry."

  Nysander shook his head, remembering. "At first it was simply that the spells would not come off. Or they would, but with the most unexpected results. He would try to move a small object, a salt cellar; it would overturn. He would try again and the salt would burst into flames. On the third try it might fly at his head, or mine. One day he attempted a simple messenger spell, and in the space of five minutes every spider, centipede, and earwig in the place came swarming in under the door. We began conducting his training outside after that.

  "Attempting to levitate, he blew up an entire grove of trees in the park. A simple summoning, butterflies I think, and all the horses went crazy for an hour. Things soon reached such a state that whenever anything unusual happened within the Orлska grounds, we got the blame for it.

  "Oh, but it was frustrating! In spite of all the blunders, all the destruction, I knew the power was there. I could feel it, even when he could not. For he did succeed now and then, but so erratically! Poor Seregil was devastated. I saw him brought to tears just trying to light a candle. Then there was the time he turned himself into a brick."

  Caught sipping his wine, Alec choked as he began to laugh. He knew he shouldn't, but the wine was in him to the heart and he just couldn't help it. None of this sounded like the Seregil he knew.

  Nysander shook his head ruefully. "The one sort of spell he really took to was shape changing, though I generally had to assist him. This time, however, he was determined to do it by himself and he turned himself into a brick—I believe he was trying for a horse at the time. In any case, there was the usual flash, then a thump, and there he was on the ground at my feet; an ordinary brick!"

  Alec pressed a hand over his mouth, quaking with stifled laughter that jostled the bed. Seregil stirred against the pillow.

  "No, no, do not trouble to move. It is good for him to sense us with him." Nysander patted Seregil affectionately on the shoulder. "You never like being reminded of that incident, do you? Ah, Alec, we may well laugh now, but I assure you, it was not very amusing at the time. To change another person out of such a self-imposed state, particularly that of an inanimate object, is terribly difficult. It took me two days to get him back! I knew we should stop after that, but he begged me to give him just one more chance. Then he really did it, sending himself into another plane."

  "Plane?" Alec hiccuped, wiping his eyes.

  "It is like another country or world, except that it does not exist in our reality. No one really understands why they exist at all, only that they do and that there are ways to cross into them. But they are dangerous, for the most part, and difficult to return from. Had I not been with him when he did it, he would have been lost.

  "It was then that I was forced to say, 'No more. "Nysander looked down at Seregil again, all the mirth gone from his face. "That was one of the saddest days of my life, dear boy, the day you took off your apprentice robe." Taking a deep draft from his goblet, he went on. "You see, Alec, denied children, our apprentices often fill that gap. We give them our knowledge and our skill, and they carry our memory into the future when we die. So it was between my old master and myself. Losing Seregil as my apprentice

  was like losing a beloved son."

  "But you didn't really lose him, did you?"

  "No, as it turned out, I did both of us a great service by not allowing him to keep at it until he killed himself. It also forced him to find out what he was truly suited for. But he went away for a long while after that, and I did not know if I would see him again. When he returned, however, he was well on his way to what he is now."

  Alec sighed. "Whatever that is."

  "Do you not know?"

  "I'm still not sure. I want to understand, so that I'll understand better what he's trying to teach me."

  "A wise course. And I am certain that when he is ready, Seregil will explain better than either Micum or I could. For now I can tell you that both he and Micum are Watchers."

  "Watchers?"

  "Spies, of a sort. None of them may speak of it, even among themselves. But as I happen to be the head of the Watchers, I can offer you an explanation."

  "You're a spy?" Alec exclaimed in surprise.

  "Not exactly. The Watchers are my eyes and ears in distant places. They travel around, talking, listening, observing. Among other things, they have been quite valuable in keeping an eye on certain movements by the Plenimarans. The Queen has her own intelligence service, of course, but my people are often of aid to them. Within the last year there have been rumors of unusual activity in the north, so I sent Seregil and Micum out to appraise the situation."

  "Why would a wizard be the leader of that kind of thing, if you don't mind my asking?"

  "It does seem odd, I suppose, but it is a tradition which predates the founding of the Third Orлska. My master and his master before him and on back through the centuries, we have always held the post, and my successor shall do the same. The Watchers have contributed much to the libraries of the Orлska over the years. They also keep those of us who take an interest in the wider world well abreast of what is happening beyond our borders."

  "But can't you just find things out by magic?"

  "Sometimes, but you must never think that it grants one omnipotence."

  Alec turned the goblet around in his hands, studying the golden tracery as he weighed his next question.

  "Come now, Alec, out with it! I think I know what you are wanting to ask."

  Taking a deep breath, Alec plunged on. "You knew that something had happened to Seregil, and you knew we were trying to come to you. Why didn't you just bring us here yourself, like you did with that wine last night?"

  Setting his cup down, Nysander laced his fingers around one up-drawn knee. "A fair question, and a common one. In this particular case there were a number of reasons for not doing so. First, I did not know exactly where you were or exactly what had occurred.

  "What little I did know came to me in a fleeting vision, not by any conscious seeking on my part. To search for someone by magic when you do not have many clues is difficult at best, and generally disappointing. Over the next few days I was able to get brief glimpses of you both, but they told me little more than that you were on land or sea until I recognized the Canal.

  "That is one reason. The next is that such spells as would have been necessary to bring him here are more difficult than you imagine; all magic takes a certain toll, and translocating him here would have been a thousan
d times more difficult than bringing down that jug of wine, even for me. Besides that, Seregil, with his own peculiar resistance to magic, has difficulty with translocation spells. They leave him quite ill even under the best conditions. Weakened as he was, he might not have survived. Furthermore, I could not have brought you both, so there you would have been, wondering what had become of your friend.

  "All in all, I decided that it would be safest to await your arrival."

  Nysander paused, regarding Alec for a moment from beneath his shaggy brows. "Now those are all valid reasons, but beyond them is one that supersedes all. The Orлska is founded on the principle that the purpose of magic is to aid the endeavors of mankind, not to supplant them.

  "Despite the hardships you endured, all your worry and care, think of what you have gained. You were braver and stronger and more loyal than you have probably had to be in all your life. And your reward is that you succeeded; you saved the life of your friend. Would you give that up to have had me simply spirit you here from that inn?"

  Alec thought of the expression on Seregil's face when he'd awakened in a clean bed in Rhнminee.

  "No," he answered quietly. "Not for anything."

  "I thought as much."

  Alec took another sip of wine. "Micum tried to tell me about you, but you still aren't how I imagined a wizard would be."

  "Indeed?" Nysander looked rather pleased. "Most of my colleagues would agree with you. But they have their ways and I have mine. All of us serve the greater good in our own fashion. But I believe you had some point to make?"

  "It's just that, with what you told me about Seregil and all, I don't understand about Thero. It seemed to me, yesterday I mean, that he doesn't—Well, he doesn't seem to like Seregil very much. Or me, for that matter."

  Nysander grimaced wryly. "If it is any comfort to you, I do not think, in his heart, that Thero cares much for me, either."

  "But he's your student!"

  "That hardly guarantees affection, my boy, although ideally such regard should exist between master and pupil. Your faithfulness to Seregil after such short acquaintance speaks well of you both.