Bronze Magic (Book 1) (21 page)

Tarkyn broke contact. “On my oath, Waterstone! You’re more
calculating than I am.”
The woodsman rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I would
say analytical, not calculating. I was, after all, trying to work out what the
future held for us all.” His voice sounded tired and despondent.
The prince frowned in concern. “Are you all right? Do you want to
continue at another time?”
Again Waterstone stared at him then dropped his eyes. He sighed.
“No. I couldn’t do this again. Not like this, being judged. It’s now or
never. I just hope you don’t end up trusting me but disliking me.” He
took a long pull on his wine with a hand that trembled, then closed his
eyes to gather his resources. When he was ready, he opened them and
looked once more at Tarkyn.
Tarkyn thought hard. He realised that more than one extra memory
might push the woodman too far. He would like to know Waterstone’s
reaction to his display of temper when he had frozen the woodfolk and
threatened them all but he decided on balance that he would gain more
from seeing the woodman’s memory of the time when Tarkyn was injured.
“Very well, one more only. Your memories of being with me from
when I translocated up into the oak tree.”
There is a sound like rushing air above us. We look up and see Prince
Tarkyn suddenly appear way up in the boughs of the tree. My stomach lurches
with horror knowing that he will fall and there is nothing we can do to
prevent it. He hits branches on the way down with a series of sickening thuds.
I cannot imagine that he will survive. I fear for his survival but even more
for what his death will mean to the forest. When he lands, he is deathly
pale and barely breathing. I cut his bonds and organise a litter. Summer
Rain attends him. She gently feels around his chest and places some strapping
around his side. She manipulates his shoulder back into place and straps it.It
is probably just as well that he is not conscious for this part. Summer Rain
leaves instructions for his care and moves on to attend to the others who have
been wounded by his fall. There is a delay in moving the prince while a larger
shelter is constructed to house him. We are all anxious and realise that we
have been forced to taken on a bigger responsibility than we had expected.
Many memories of coming to check on the prince and talking to
people around him blur into one general theme. The predominant feeling
moves from fear for the forest and the life of the prince, to compassion
for his suffering.
I watch him grimace with pain after he gags trying to eat and I sit with
him as he thrashes around in the night, reliving horrors of bounty hunters
and his arraignment before his brothers. I start talking to him to calm his
distress. As he hovers in some twilight world between waking and sleeping, I
gradually tell him everything about me and about the woodfolk. I feel I have
let him into my world and trusted him with things I have needed to say but
have never said to another. Then he awakens fully and the reality of who he is
opens a yawning gap between us. I am jolted by his mistrust and realise that
my imagined friendship with him is all in my mind and not in his.
Suddenly, Tarkyn found himself back at the river at night. Waterstone
had closed his eyes to break contact. Before Tarkyn could re-orient
himself, Waterstone scrambled to his feet with an uncharacteristic lack
of grace and disappeared into the trees. The prince was left sitting alone,
shaken by the depth of feeling in Waterstone’s memory and wondering
what to do next. He did not have long to wait.
Twenty minutes later, Autumn Leaves came trundling down the track
and plonked himself down near the prince. “Evening, Your Highness.”
“Good evening,” replied Tarkyn uncertainly.
Autumn Leaves stared earnestly at the sorcerer. “Now I know you’re
a high and mighty sorcerer and you can burn me to a crisp or throw me
about or whatever takes your fancy, but I’ll risk all that to protect my
friends.”
The sorcerer in question looked blankly at him and said faintly, “I
applaud your courage.” When there was no further response, he asked,
“Which of your friends needs protecting?” although he felt sure he knew
the answer.
The solid woodman eyed him belligerently. “You know perfectly well
I mean Waterstone. I don’t know what spells you’ve magicked on him
but he’s a total wreck. He looks, I don’t know, wounded, like a whipped
cur…even though there’s not a mark on him that I can see. His hands are
shaking so badly I had to pour the wine down his throat myself. So what
do you have to say for yourself?”
The sorcerer’s face had stiffened with shock. “Autumn Leaves, I promise
you, I have not used my magic on him. It is his magic, not mine, that
has led to this.”
The woodman glared at the sorcerer scornfully. “I am surprised that
you would try to dodge your responsibility for this. You must know we
do not have any magic.”
“Oh yes, you do,” Tarkyn gave a slight smile. “It’s just so natural to you
that you don’t think of it as magic. You mind talk and use mindpower to
control people and you can let people see your memories. I suspect you
have other magic that helps you disappear into the woods but I’m not
sure about that yet.”
Autumn Leaves continued to stare at the sorcerer as he absorbed this
information. “Hmph,” he said at last, “but none of this tells me what has
happened to my friend.”
Tarkyn
hesitated.
Somehow
he
felt
he
might
be
betraying
Waterstone’s confidence if he told Autumn Leaves what had happened.
He was beginning to think that Autumn Leaves would not approve of
Waterstone’s actions. The prince was prepared to deal with Autumn
Leave’s disapproval but he didn’t want to put Waterstone in that
position, especially now.
Tarkyn drew a deep breath, “If I tell you, I don’t want you to
remonstrate with Waterstone for what he has chosen to do. You can say
what you like to me but not to Waterstone unless we agree it together.”
He paused, “Do I have your agreement?”
Autumn Leaves narrowed his eyes as he considered his options, then
nodded. “I can’t imagine that I would want to get angry with Waterstone
anyway.”
The prince kept his eyes on the woodman. “Waterstone allowed me to
see some of his memories.”
The woodman shrugged. “So? I’ve often done that to pass on
information. I can’t see a problem with that.”
“Waterstone allowed me to choose which memories. He gave me free
rein to see whatever I asked for.”
Autumn Leaves froze. The sorcerer could see him imagining what it
would be like to have his memories unprotected by his own choice. He
gave a low whistle. “For pity’s sake, I hope you at least negotiated it with
him, gave him some kind of veto.”
The prince shook his head, “No negotiation. Purely my decision.”
Autumn Leaves blinked. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve been
trawling his memory ever since those wolves were killed, are you?”
Watching the anger gathering in the woodman’s eyes, Tarkyn winced
inwardly as he nodded. “He wanted to prove to me that I could trust
him.”
The storm broke. Autumn Leaves did not rage as Waterstone would
have done. Instead he slated the prince carefully with biting scorn. “So
you have violated a man’s innermost privacy, cast aside the layers of
protection that keep him strong, and safe against the world. And how
long did you subject him to this flaying of his soul? Three hours? I can
understand that you might need a gesture of good faith to earn your
trust – but three hours? You either have no imagination or you’re an utter
bastard or both.”
The prince sat white-faced as the woodman slammed home to him
what he had done. “Oh no! Oh, for pity’s sake,” he breathed as he bowed
his head beneath his hands, “I think I’m both.” He lifted his head to look
the woodman resolutely in the eye, “I knew he was finding it difficult. I
suggested postponing but I never offered to finish it even when he started
to worry that I wouldn’t like him.”
Autumn Leaves snorted derisively. “I’m not surprised he was worried.
Now you’ve seen parts of him that should never have been seen by anyone
else.” He scowled at the prince. “I don’t much care whether he has earned
your trust. Personally, I think the cost was way too high. But you had
better make sure you earn his trust.”
Tarkyn looked away towards the river but its silver beauty brought
him no comfort. “I fear I have already betrayed his trust by abusing the
gift he offered me.” He put his forehead in his hands. “Oh Waterstone,
I’m so sorry.” After a moment, he raised his head with an air of decision.
“Can you send a message to him for me? I can only send feelings and
images and I need to send him some words.”
“I believe you said that we would agree together what is said to
Waterstone?” Autumn Leaves raised his eyebrows. “I presume that still
stands?”
“Of course it does. I need you to help me repair this mess, Autumn
Leaves. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just took a lot of convincing. But in
my need to have someone to trust, I forgot to look after him.” He thought
carefully how to phrase what he wanted to say. Although he hadn’t told
Autumn Leaves, he felt sure that the very last part of the memories he
had seen were the main cause of Waterstone’s distress. “Will you tell him
that he has earned my trust beyond any doubt and that there is no aspect
I saw that I disliked? He is welcome to the poor opinions he has had of
me and they come as no surprise. – And tell him that, in my mind, he
is one of the best, truest people I have ever known and I am proud to be
his friend.” He cocked his head to one side. “And that I am sorry….Will
you agree to send that? Will it help or should I just go and talk to him?”
Autumn Leaves shook his head decisively. “He wouldn’t let you anywhere
near him at the moment. He’s too raw. I will send your message as long as
you really mean it and are not just saying it to make him feel better.”
The prince stared at him. “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t dream of
saying something like that if I didn’t mean it. I could easily find something
tactful but less emphatic to say if I needed to.”
The woodman’s eyes lost focus for several seconds.
“That took a while,” commented Tarkyn.
“I replayed the whole conversation from where you said you needed
my help right up to where you said you could think of something less
emphatic to say.” The woodman smiled for the first time since he arrived.
“Pictures and sound.”
The sorcerer raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive. I didn’t know you
could replay whole scenes. I thought you could only send events as they
happened.”
“No. You can send old memories too, if you want to. Helpful if
someone needs directions to somewhere you have been before.”
“I suppose so.” A silence fell. Then Tarkyn asked, “Do you think
Waterstone will respond to the message?”
The woodman shook his head. “I doubt it. Not tonight anyway. Give
him time. He almost has to re-assemble himself, I’d say.” For a solid man,
Autumn Leaves rose nimbly to his feet. “Anyway, I’d better go back and
see how he is.” He gave a little smile. “Thank you for not burning me to
a crisp.”
The sorcerer waved a dismissive hand and returned a rueful smile.
“A pleasure. Thank you for coming to sort it out with me. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”
For a long while, Tarkyn sat there thinking through all that had
happened that day; repairing the trees with the woodfolk, Stormaway’s
arrival and disapproval, learning of his friends’ treachery, Waterstone’s
sacrifice and now, Autumn Leaves intervention. He was glad Stormaway
hadn’t seen the interaction with Autumn Leaves.
These woodfolk weren’t used to being ruled. They had no ruling class
of their own and no experience of royalty. Even with the threat of the
oath and his power hanging over them, they still confronted him and
let him know when they weren’t pleased. It wasn’t just Waterstone who
showed his anger, as it turned out. He thought back and realised he had
probably been too harsh with Thunder Storm. Passing judgement on the
prince’s actions seemed to be as natural as breathing for all of them.
They were courteous to him – when they weren’t angry with him, he
added wryly – but when he thought about it, they were just as courteous
to each other. The only real difference was the use of his title. They had
given him a bigger shelter because of his size but it was not grander and
he suspected that he had been waited on only because he was ill.
Now Stormaway had blustered back in, throwing around expectations
of both his and the woodfolk’s behaviour. Despite the justification that
Stormaway had given for enquiring into activities at court, Tarkyn was
fairly sure that the wizard’s main motivation had been to impress the
woodfolk and set him, the prince, apart from them. That being the case,
it had probably been a tactical error to speak about Andoran and Sargon
since their treachery had tarnished the mystique of court life Stormaway
was trying to build up.
Tarkyn thought about the servants, the grand banquets and balls, the
exquisite furnishings and clothes he had left behind. He thought about the
ordinary everyday artisans and workers he had barely brushed up against
and the nobles and courtiers who had been his constant companions.
With a smile, he thought about his thieving family and wondered how
they had spent the money.
He remembered that he had told the woodfolk on the first night that
he would make clear his expectations. In theory, the prince could demand
that he should be treated with greater respect, be waited on hand and foot
as he was used to. In theory, he could insist that the woodfolk lowered
their eyes, bowed in his presence and performed all the obsequities that
he had taken for granted in his past life. In reality, he knew he could not.
On the other hand, although he did not dislike the unaccustomed
familiarity of the woodfolk, the prince did not think he could ever accept
simply being on equal terms with them, as they were with each other.
And there were many tasks he had no intention of ever doing himself.