Luck in the Shadows n-1 Read online

  "It took me many years to find another apprentice. As I said before, there are few who have the inborn power, and those who do vary greatly in their ability. Of those few who did trickle into he Orлska each year, I found none that suited my purposes until Thero. Whatever else you may think of him, he is tremendously talented. There is no facet of our art he cannot grasp. The fact that he was of my old master's family made him seem all the more suitable at the time. All that, together with the fact that I was beginning to feel quite desperately in need of a successor, blinded me to certain aspects of his nature which might otherwise have given me pause. Thero has proven trustworthy in every way, yet his thirst for knowledge borders on avarice—a serious flaw in a wizard. He also possesses no sense of humor and, while you will not find that listed among the requirements of the Orлska, I believe it to be an invaluable trait in those who aspire to power of any sort. And this lack of humor causes him to find me an embarrassment on occasion.

  "However, it is his animosity toward Seregil which has most alarmed me over the years, for it reveals envy—one of the most dangerous weaknesses of all. He cannot be content that he replaced Seregil, that he is more gifted in magic than Seregil could ever have been. And though he has little use for my affection himself, he cannot bear that Seregil retains it. Of course, Seregil is little better, as I am certain you shall see for yourself soon enough. But Thero is a wizard. If he acts this way over such small matters, what will he not be capable of over great ones, when he is great?"

  Nysander paused, massaging his eyelids with two fingers. "For with or without my teachings, he will be great. And so I keep him with me because I fear to let him go to another master. It is my greatest hope that with time and maturity he will gain compassion, and then what a wizard he shall be!"

  Alec was amazed at the old wizard's candor. "Seregil tells me nothing of himself, and you tell me everything."

  Nysander smiled. "Oh, hardly everything yet! We all have our secrets, and our reasons for them. I have told you this about Thero and myself so that you may understand him better and perhaps see why he acts as he does. Like Seregil, I also expect and trust in your discretion."

  Nysander was just reaching for his goblet again when a yellow globe of light winked into being in front of him. It hovered a moment, gleaming like a tiny sun, then floated gently to settle on his outstretched palm.

  The wizard inclined his head, as if listening to a voice inaudible to Alec. It disappeared as abruptly as it had come.

  "Ylinestra," Nysander explained. "Excuse me for a moment."

  Closing his eyes, he held up a long forefinger and a similar light, bright blue in color, sprang up there.

  "Certainly, my dear," he said to it, "I shall be with you shortly."

  At a slight flick of his finger, the mote of light shot out of sight.

  Anticipating Nysander's departure, Alec stood up and felt the wine rise to his head. "Well, uh, I think I'm beginning to understand a few things. Thank you."

  Nysander raised an eyebrow. "There is no hurry. I have sent word."

  "No, really. If Ylinestra was waiting for me—Oh, damn!" Alec stammered to a halt, cheeks flaming. "I

  didn't mean, that is—It's the wine, I guess."

  "Illior's Light, boy, what will Seregil ever make of you if you cannot keep a straight face?"

  Nysander chuckled as he rose to his feet. "Perhaps you are right, though. She can be impatient. Why not take a stroll in the gardens? I should think you would find it most pleasant there after being confined in ships and houses for so long. Wethis can sit with Seregil."

  "I don't think I could find my way around," said Alec, thinking of all the twists and turns between here and the main entrance.

  "That is easily remedied. Take this with you."

  Nysander opened his hand to show Alec a small cube of green stone, incised on each side with tiny symbols.

  Alec rolled it around on his palm. "What is it?"

  "A guide stone. Simply hold it up and speak where you wish to go. It will lead you."

  Feeling a bit silly, Alec held out the stone and said, "To the gardens?"

  The words were scarcely spoken before the cube took on a pale nimbus and rose to hover in the air just in front of him.

  "It will take you anywhere on the grounds you are allowed to go," Nysander explained. "Do remember not to attempt to enter any wizard's chamber unless invited. If you are ready, simply instruct it to proceed."

  "Go on, then," Alec told the cube. Floating across the room, it passed though the polished wood of the door in a decidedly unnatural fashion.

  Behind him, the wizard chuckled again. "Be certain you open the door first."

  17 Watcher Business

  Taking Valerius' admonition to heart, Alec saw to it that Seregil drank the prescribed infusions. Still terribly weak, Seregil slept most of the time, rousing just long enough to take a little nourishment before lapsing back again.

  Alec's diligence quickly earned the brusque drysian's respect, and he, in turn, grew comfortable with Valerius' abrasive manner, recognizing the gentle sureness of his healing and liking him for it.

  Nysander provided whatever he needed and visited several times a day. When Alec mentioned the writing lessons with Seregil, the wizard brought writing materials and a simple scroll for him to work on.

  Alec and Nysander were playing nine stones in Seregil's room the second morning after the purification when an old woman in a travel-stained cloak appeared at the door of the sickroom.

  "Magyana!" Nysander exclaimed, rising to embrace her. "You should have sent word. I had no idea you were back."

  "I wanted to surprise you, my dear," she replied, kissing him soundly. "Yet it was I who was surprised. Thero says Seregil has been hurt."

  Going to the bed, she laid her hand on Seregil's brow.

  She must be as old as Nysander, thought Alec. The woman's face was deeply lined and the heavy braid coiled at her neck shone white as moonlit snow.

  She sketched a quick, glowing symbol in the air over the sleeping man and shook her head. "Thank the Light he is safe. Who did this to him, and how?"

  "He ran afoul of Mardus and his necromancers in the northlands," Nysander told her. "Young Alec here brought him to me just in time. Alec, this is Magyana, a fellow wizard and my dear companion from the days of our youth."

  Magyana turned to Alec with a warm smile.

  "Bless you, Alec. Nysander would have been desolate to lose him, as would I."

  Seregil stirred just then, muttering hoarsely as he fought his way out of some panicked dream.

  "There now, Seregil," Nysander said, raising his voice as he bent over him. "Open your eyes, dear boy. You are quite safe. Are you awake at last?"

  Seregil's eyes flew open. Seeing Nysander and the others, he lay back with a sigh of relief. "I keep dreaming I'm back in Mycena."

  Nysander sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

  "You are safe now, and whole, thanks to Alec. He has told me of your adventures and you will tell me more when you are stronger. But for now you must rest. You very nearly destroyed yourself this time."

  "I know." Seregil shook his head weakly. "Damn fool that I was, I'd have deserved it, too." He shifted to look up at Alec, a shadow of doubt in his eyes. "You all right? I–I wasn't myself for a while there."

  "I'm fine," Alec assured him, knowing in his heart that he was damned lucky to be able to say that.

  Leaving Seregil to Alec's watchful care, Nysander walked Magyana to her tower at the northern corner of the House.

  "My dear, you were away too long!" he remonstrated gently, slipping an arm about her waist and pressing his lips to her cheek again.

  "Surely the lovely Ylinestra kept you occupied in my absence?" she shot back, returning the kiss.

  "You impossible woman! You with your damnable celibacy. All these years I have filled my bed with lesser women and not a single spark of jealousy from you. You speak of them as if they were children, or lapdogs.
"

  "Have most of them been any more than that to you, you old rogue? But perhaps I do feel just the smallest spark, as you call it, toward this sorceress. I understand that she is as talented in the casting room as she is in the bedchamber. There, are you satisfied?"

  "Perhaps just a bit," Nysander replied, affecting a sulk. "The girl does have a head for magic, but in truth she is beginning to weary me with her demands, in bed and out."

  "Ah, the trials of the hot-blooded." Magyana let him into her tower rooms. "You know you shall not have a jot of sympathy from me. But now to Seregil. You still have not told me how he came to be in such a state. It took more than ordinary magic to leave such marks on him."

  Pausing in the center of the immaculate workroom, Nysander watched as she set about the familiar ritual of tea making. "Evidently he and the boy stole something from Mardus in the northlands. It appears to be an object of little consequence but, as you saw, it proved to be extremely dangerous. I can tell you no more than that, I fear."

  Setting the kettle on the hook, Magyana turned and studied his face; they'd known each other too long and too well for her not to read the import of his silence.

  "Oh, my dear," she whispered, a hand stealing to her throat. "Oh, no!"

  Seregil's strength returned quickly over the next few days and, as Valerius had predicted, he soon grew restless. On the fourth day he'd had enough of bed rest.

  "Valerius said another day at least!" Alec admonished, frowning down at him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  "I won't tell him if you don't. Bilairy's Balls, I'm sore all over from lying around so long!"

  As soon as he stood up, however, the floor seemed to shift under him. Drenched in a sudden cold sweat, he swayed heavily against Alec.

  "There now, you see? It is too soon." Alec helped him back onto the bed. "Maker's Mercy, there's nothing left of you. I can feel your ribs."

  "I thought I heard voices," Valerius rumbled, striding in to glower at the two of them. "Are you going to stay in bed as I ordered, or be tied there?"

  "The former, I think," Seregil replied contritely. Pressing a hand dramatically over his eyes, he sank back against the pillow. "I'm sure you know best."

  "I certainly do. Not that it's ever made the slightest damn bit of difference to you!"

  Still scowling, he lifted the dressing and went about cleaning the wound. "There, this shouldn't give you any more trouble."

  Looking down as his chest, Seregil saw the scar for the first time and felt his stomach lurch. The last of the scabs had fallen away and the ridged imprint of the coin's design was visible in the shiny pink circle of new skin.

  "What is that doing there?" he demanded, fingering the area around the scar.

  Valerius threw up his hands. "You'll have to ask Nysander. I was all for having it off that first night, but he said to leave it. It should fade in time. I'm off for Mycena today, so you're in Alec's care now. Try not to drive yourself into a relapse if that's possible, which I doubt. You won't die, but you'll land your ass back in bed for another week if you don't take care. Maker's Mercy be with you both."

  Stumping out, he slammed the door after him.

  "See? He was angry with you," said Alec, obviously glad not to have been the focus of his displeasure.

  "Angry?" Seregil took a last worried look at the mark and pulled the shirt lacings closed again.

  "He wasn't angry. When Valerius gets angry the furniture catches fire, or walls fall down, things like that. There's no mistaking it when he's upset."

  "Well, he wasn't exactly happy with you, either."

  "He seldom is." Shifting against the pillows, he settled with one hand behind his head. "Even the other drysians consider him an irascible old bugger. Still, we find one another useful on occasion. How's your hand?"

  "Better."

  "Let me see." He inspected the circle of tender skin on Alec's Palm; it was smooth and featureless except for the small square greater-than not the center. "Has Nysander said much about any of this?"

  "Only that the disk was something called a telesm."

  "Well, that's obvious!" Seregil snorted. "I want more of an answer than that. Fetch him for me, will you?"

  Alec found Nysander at his high desk in the workroom.

  "Seregil was wondering if you could come down," he told the wizard.

  "Certainly." Nysander laid his quill aside.

  "I was expecting Thero in a moment. Could you wait and tell him where I am?"

  It wasn't until the old man had disappeared downstairs that it occurred to Alec to wonder why Nysander hadn't just sent a message by magic.

  Minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Thero.

  Impatient to get back to Seregil, Alec wandered restlessly around the room. The stairs leading up to the little gallery beneath the tower dome soon caught his eye and, climbing up, he looked out through a thick, leaded pane.

  With a startled gasp, he caught at the ledge in front of him; the dome bowed out beyond the stonework, affording a view of the ground hundreds of feet directly below. He'd never been this far off the ground and the sensation was not particularly pleasant.

  Concentrating on the solid floor beneath his boots, he made himself look out over the city. Streets fanned out like spokes from circular plazas, or intersected to form ordered squares and commons. From this height he could also see past the citadel wall to the outer harbor, where boats bobbed at anchor in the shelter of the moles. On the landward side, open country quickly gave way to rolling foothills and jagged, snowcapped mountains beyond.

  As he turned to go down the steps again, a blue message sphere suddenly winked into existence in front of him and Nysander's voice said,

  "Alec, join us in Seregil's room, please."

  He found Seregil and Nysander in the midst of a heated discussion when he arrived. Nysander was calm, if solemn, but there was a decidedly stubborn set to Seregil's jaw.

  "Are you certain you want him involved?" the wizard was saying.

  "Come on, Nysander! He's already involved up to the eyebrows, whether he knows it or not," Seregil retorted. "Besides, you wouldn't have let him stay here if you didn't already trust him."

  "Those are two separate issues," Nysander replied, giving Seregil a meaningful look. When the younger man maintained adamant silence, the wizard nodded gravely. "Very well. But the final decision is his to make." He looked up at Alec for the first time. "Would you become a Watcher, Alec?"

  A twinge of excitement shot through Alec. "Does that mean you both can tell me more of what's going on?" he asked, guessing the import of this strange exchange.

  "Certainly."

  "Then yes, I will."

  Seregil gave him a wink as Nysander took out his small ivory dagger and waved Alec to a chair.

  When he was seated, Nysander set the knife spinning end for end in the air mere inches from Alec's eyes.

  Alec's mouth went dry as he listened to the angry buzz the blade made as it flickered in front of him; he could feel the breeze of it against his face.

  "Alec of Kerry," Nysander intoned solemnly. "A Watcher must observe carefully, report truthfully, and keep the secrets that must be kept. Do you swear by your heart and eyes and by the Four to do these

  things?"

  "Yes," Alec answered quickly, steeling himself not to lean away from the spinning knife.

  "Good!" The knife fell out of the air into Nysander's hand.

  "That's it?" Alec exclaimed, falling back in his chair.

  "You answered truthfully," the wizard told him.

  "Had you lied, the result would have been rather more dramatic."

  "And considerably messier," Seregil added with a relieved grin.

  "Considerably," said Nysander. "And now, what have you to report, Seregil?"

  Seregil settled his shoulders more comfortably against the pillows. "When I left Rhнminee at the end of Rhythm, I took ship to Nanta and spent two days listening around the docks. Rumor had it that th
ere were an unusual number of ships being refitted Plenimaran ports, Karia in particular. This confirmed what we already heard from Korbin.

  "Moving north, I poked around Boersby, learning that a delegation of Plenimaran merchants had stopped there a month to discuss overland trade routes. A contingent of fifty armed riders had continued inland in the direction of the Fishless Sea."

  "To what end?" asked Nysander. "There is little in those barren hills but a few nomadic tribes."

  Seregil shrugged. "There were all sorts of speculations. Apparently local men were hired on as guides and haven't been heard of since. If the mounted column did come south again, they came by a different route. Thinking they might have followed the Brilith River down toward the Woldesoke, I decided to check in with a friend at Ballton. There'd been no sightings in that area, but she said that similar parties had been seen to the east.

  "The word is that the lords of the various mountain demesnes are being visited, but nobody's certain of their purpose. It boded ill for Plenimar to be so far north, so I decided to work my way along the mountains and see what these riders had been up to.

  "If they went as far as Kerry, there wouldn't be much doubt that they were casting a greedy eye at the Gold Road again.

  "I was right, but quickly learned that the Plenimarans had left their new friends with a healthy distrust of strangers. Even as a bard, I had one or two difficulties before Asengai finally caught me. Not everyone was taken in, though. Lord Warkill and his sons gave them the air. Lord Nostor seems to have been noncommittal. My old friend Geriss had just died, and his widow, a Mycenian by birth, would have nothing to do with the envoys."

  "Lady Brytha? I knew her as a girl," remarked Nysander. "Her holding is very isolated, as I recall."

  "It's a large one, though, and well populated. I spoke to her in private and warned her to be cautious. She has four sons, two of them grown, who seem reliable enough. If worse comes to worst, they'll be able to hold out or flee."

  "Let us hope it does not come to that. I have had word already that some advances were made in Kerry, but that they were politely refused."