A Mage Of None Magic (Book 1) (31 page)

49

Everyone had made it back—bloodied, battered, but alive. Niel felt such relief at the safe return of his companions that even the dull thunder of Jharal’s snoring from somewhere at the back of the ship comforted him.

After the greetings and the initial, understandable ogling, the group tactfully if not gracefully set aside the topic of Niel’s eye. Niel and Arwin took seats on the floor amongst rows of pillows as the professor bustled in the tiny galley area preparing bowls of a wonderful smelling stew.

“Once we were inside,” Arwin asked, “the other statues just stopped?”

“Right in their tracks,” Peck replied. While he had received the least amount of punishment, his face, neck and shoulder glistened with raw, angry-looking abrasions left unbandaged to dry and scab. “And just in time, too. I was getting pretty tired. As you can see, a couple of the buggers managed to get in some pretty good nicks.”

Niel glanced at Cally, who rested on several stacked pillows against the far wall in obvious discomfort. Along with being equally covered in deep, open scrapes, she had her sword arm bound in a sling, one eye all but swollen shut, and she winced whenever she happened to breathe a little too deeply. Fortunately, as best as Peck could determine torn muscles were the worst of her injuries. Nothing broken, and nothing bleeding inside.

Until that moment, Niel had never considered the benefits of an assassin’s intimate knowledge of anatomy

“We headed back for the ship to check on Professor Slim, here,” Peck continued, “where you’ll never guess what I found.”

Arwin and Niel exchanged curious glances. Peck leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.

“Ennalen had herself a servant,” Cally answered.

Arwin looked confused. “What’s unusual about that?”

Niel crooked his mouth. “Not that kind of servant. What Peck means is someone magically compelled to obey the wishes of the magician.”

Peck nodded. “And this not-that-kind-of-servant is no ordinary not-that-kind-of-servant. Ennalen, like our intrepid leader, was lucky enough to find an assassin of her own.”

Niel’s mouth dropped open.

“Yup,” Peck said. “Haven’t been able to get much out of him yet, but his name is Rass. When we got back, he was waiting, and had our poor Professor tied and gagged. Impressive, actually.”

“How did he get on the ship?” Niel asked. “And why didn’t he kill the professor? Isn’t that what assassins do?”

Peck raised an eyebrow.

“Other assassins, I mean.”

The professor slid into the room with a tray of bowls and a clay pitcher of something cold enough to cause beads of water to trickle down its sides.

“He needed me to pilot the ship after he made sure you three were dead,” Potchkins replied as he set the food on the floor in front of them. Niel’s mouth filled with a soft, sweet fluid in anticipation of the meal.

“Peck,” Arwin asked, “where is this person?”

Peck grinned a sly grin. “In the other room. Jharal’s keeping an eye on him.”

Niel choked on a mouthful potato. “The other room? Then why is Jharal snoring?”

Peck shrugged. “He sleeps with his mouth open, I guess.”

Arwin set his cup down after a long drink of dark, chilled wine. “If Rass was with Ennalen long enough, he might know something about what’s going on inside the College. That could be helpful.”

“My thoughts, exactly,” Peck agreed. He winked at Niel. “Not only am I devilishly handsome, but I’m not too shabby with elixirs and the like. Our guest will be out for a good long while.”

“Great,” Niel said. “And then what?”

“The way I figure it,” Cally replied as she shifted her weight and groaned with discomfort, “the College isn’t going to make things easy on us. They’re going to want Niel pretty badly. I think our best bet is still telling Deralden everything and seeing if he’ll take it to the Assembly of Lords.”

“Not everyone’s going to want to help,” Peck said. “The College has got its claws pretty deep into some of them.”

Arwin nodded. “That I know.”

“Then the Assembly really could split,” Niel said, mostly to himself. “There really could be a war.”

Cally sighed. “Possibly.”

A war unlike any the Lands had known. A conflict to spread throughout the world itself.

Suddenly, Niel wasn’t hungry.

“Excuse me,” he said as he pushed his bowl away. He stood, then headed for the ladder.

50

He hadn’t noticed the professor manning the wheel until the ship lurched upward. How
did
the tahlerig manage to get up and down that ladder, anyway—and so quietly?

Once Niel knew he was there, he sensed him readily. He glanced at Potchkins, who only offered a small smile and nod from the pilot’s wheel, presumably not wanting to disturb Niel.

Or perhaps not wanting to get too close.

Niel leaned against a high portion rail, chin on his stacked fists, and stared out across the Plains—icy-looking as they reflected back what little pale light escaped the clouds.

More had happened to him in recent days than he would have ever wished to happen over the course of his entire life. What had begun as a simple desire to see a bit of the world before attending the College had ended with him being the fulcrum on which balanced the fate of the Lands.

And Biddleby, poor Biddleby, was gone.

New, warm tears welled, and he pressed his face into his arms to hide his sorrow from the professor, lest he feel compelled to come over and offer comfort to Niel—comfort being the last thing in the world that held any interest.

Nonetheless, when Arwin’s presence touched on his own, he felt better.

Niel wiped his sleeve across his face, but did not turn around. “You shouldn’t be climbing up and down ladders in your condition,” he said.

“Jharal came out to join us,” Arwin replied, “but then collapsed again from that bad Sleep spell of yours. Since he was lying there anyway, I stepped up onto his backside for a boost.”

Niel gave a weak chuckle at the joke.

“Are you going to be all right?” Arwin asked as he rested himself on the railing as well.

Niel nodded. “I need time to think.”

Arwin made a gesture of understanding and made to leave. “I’ll come back.”

“No, stay,” Niel said. He faced Arwin. “There’s something I want to talk with you about.”

Arwin resumed his reclined posture.

“First, and I know this may sound odd, but… I was wondering whether Arwin was your real name.”

Arwin crooked an eyebrow. “Come again?”

Niel licked his lips. “If I were running away from home and knew someone might send an assassin out after me, I’d want to draw as little attention to myself as possible. And I’d start by using a different name.”

Arwin smiled. “Well, that would make a certain amount of sense. But in this case, it was the assassin himself who warned me of the danger. Given the trouble it takes to send just one, it’s doubtful another will show. And, really, with Peck around it wouldn’t matter if one did. Yes, Arwin is my name. And to be honest, advertising my presence has been my intention all along. I’ve taken pleasure imagining what consternation it might cause my cousin to hear me mentioned from time to time.”

Niel sighed deeply as he considered the reply. “I think I may have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Arwin responded. “And what makes you think I’m interested in hearing a proposition from the likes of you?”

Niel smiled again, though barely. “Because I think I’m learning to trust my instincts.”

“I see,” he said with exaggerated boredom. “Proceed if you must.”

“I’ve read that the wise are the first to admit ignorance. And right now, I have no idea what I’m doing. I know by rights your obligations to me from your oath in Chael have been concluded, but I was hoping you might be interested in helping a newly-anointed storybook-character-come-to-life change the course of the world.”

“An interesting proposition,” Arwin said. “But in all the tales I’ve read, the hero sort rarely has an easy time of it. What’s in it for me?”

Niel looked away. “That’s a really good question.”

“I tend to ask really good questions,” Arwin said. “Lucky for you, I also have a really good answer. First, obligation to one’s friends is never concluded. You have but to ask, and I’ll do for you whatever I’m able. Not because you may or may not be the Apostate, and not to help my own situation, but because you are indeed just that, Niel—my friend.”

The sentiment was a devastating kindness for which Niel was unprepared despite his hopes for that very response, and it brought him to blink back yet more tears. He promised himself as he had with the professor to learn as much as he could about and from his newfound companions, as people, as friends—beyond the broad brush with which he and the rest of society had already colored them, beyond the hackneyed conventions of warrior, thief, and adventurer.

“And second,” Arwin added cheerfully, “how could I not accept? Just look at what the two of us together have been able to accomplish so far—and all but for the cost of a little black eye.”

Niel’s jaw dropped in dismay at the wretched pun.

He shook his head. “That’s not very funny.”

Arwin inspected his fingernails, despite the fact that it was too dark out to see them. “I beg to differ, thank you.”

For the very last time in his life, Niel laughed.

51

The following day passed quietly as the group settled into planning the tasks ahead. Not even the continuous spectacle of flying high above the world proved much of a distraction, though they did break from their preparations to marvel at the magnificent sunset.

Precisely on schedule, the professor’s ship sailed over the coast as the last blazing fingers of orange from the waning day slipped beneath the horizon. Within a few hours afterward, they reached the outskirts of Edlaan, Lord Deralden’s province.

Cally and Jharal were to disembark a halfnight’s walk from the town of Blaer—not the quickest route to Deralden’s castle by any means, but the town’s remoteness reduced the chance of the ship being spotted. There the two would be able to acquire horses and supplies, then make the remainder of their trip in relatively short order.

Niel stood off to one side with Potchkins as the other four made their good-byes. The affair had little of the solemnity he would have thought appropriate considering how long his companions had known one another—a handful of quips and a perfunctory shaking of hands, the way Niel imagined it must have been when Arwin departed to search for a magician in the first place.

Until that moment Niel had been able to put off dwelling on the magnitude of their collective undertaking. He had moved from one smaller, more immediate concern to the next, and had grown accustomed to the luxury of having more time ahead to think things through. That once plentiful amount of sand in the glass had suddenly dwindled to a pittance, and the long-absent but all-too-familiar fear proffered itself to him again.

“Don’t look so worried,” Jharal boomed, poised to descend the lowered rope ladder. He held up his broken axe handle. “You see this?”

Niel nodded.

“Big, isn’t it?”

He smiled. “Certainly the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

Jharal winked. “You remember that.”

As the dark-skinned giant made his way to the ground, Cally stepped between Arwin and Peck toward Niel. She had removed her sling; publicizing such an injury would be foolish. But by the stiff and deliberate way she carried herself, her sword arm still clearly caused her a good amount of pain.

“You and I have a conversation to finish,” she said, quirking the corner of her mouth. She stepped closer and gently lay a warm palm on the side of his face.

“You stay safe, Niel,” she whispered.

“And you,” Niel replied.

Cally brushed his cheek with her thumb and turned to join Jharal.

“We’ll be safe, too, thanks,” Peck chimed as she passed.

She responded by slapping her good forearm not-so-gently across his chest.

Niel smiled, but stopped when a surprising scent drifted across his face from where she had placed her hand.

Tea rose.

He watched Cally hop from the last rung and land unsteadily on the ground. She limped to where Jharal waited, then the two of them disappeared into the nighttime landscape below.