Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (34 page)

Julia forced thoughts of her bodyguard out of her head. She had more weighty concerns on her mind. How was she going to make the Hasians go away without killing them all? Could it even be done? She strolled along the corridor next to Keverin thinking about what she might do to prevent the deaths of any more of her friends. She had given up fighting against people’s expectations after killing Renard. How she wished there were a way out, but there wasn’t one. She knew that now. It was surprisingly easy to make the decision to kill. Was it her imagination or had the voice of her conscience become quieter these days? Whatever the answer, it was definitely becoming easier to justify killing.

“I will use magic to rid you of the Hasians,” Julia said staring straight ahead. She did not want to see Keverin’s look of triumph at her news.

The silence drew out but finally Keverin said, “Are you sure?”

Julia blew out her breath and wished she could take back the words, but what other choice was there? “I’m sure. I will not allow our people to die if I can prevent it. If I can, I will limit the deaths to the sorcerers, but if the soldiers intervene they will die,” she finished in a hard voice.

“What will you need?”

“Time mostly, but I don’t have it. Do I?”

“No,” Keverin said. “A day… two at the most. I cannot believe they have waited this long,”

“I will need Mathius to help me and time in the library. I still can’t make a ward. Without one they will kill me before I have a chance to get them all.”

“That makes sense.”

Julia parted company with Keverin and went in search of Mathius. She listened absently to Moriz speculating on whether he should bother practising for the tournament this year. Halbert was of the opinion that he needed ten years of practise to best him in the ring.

“Are you both boxers then?”

“Yes Lady, but everyone does it a little,” Halbert said.

“She doesn’t mean brawling, dim whit! She means like the tournament!” Moriz said.

“Don’t you dimwit me, dung face! I’ll plaster you over the cobbles if you don’t shut yer hole,” Halbert said, but he made no move to make good on the threat.

Julia grinned. She had heard the like many times—they were just playing, but watch out if someone else said it. Moriz and Halbert were closer than brothers. They never left each other’s side, which was one reason they had both survived for so long. She liked them both. They often made her laugh with their banter. She had always thought sarcasm the best kind of humour. It was more subtle. Still, she wished they weren’t so meticulous where their duty was concerned. They dogged her steps unmercifully. The only time she could be alone was in her room or in the library—they knew those places only had one exit.

Julia found Mathius standing like a statue near the ruined gate. He had his arms crossed and was frowning at the broken walls. “Mathius? I need your help again.”

“I was just wondering what all those men down there are thinking about.”

Julia didn’t want to think of the enemy as individuals. It was easier for her to think of them as a single malign force—one she had to stop. She didn’t want to know what they were thinking.

“You have to be my magic teacher again.”

Mathius grinned. “I don’t know how magical I will be, but I can try to teach you.”

“I need mind-speech so that we talk during battle. I need to learn wards, full sized fire balls, and anything else you can think of to kill the enemy.”

That wiped the smile off his face. “How many years have you got?”

“Two days.”

“Not possible. It can’t be done. No way!” Mathius cried in horror. “Be reasonable—”

“We have to make it happen, Mathius. Come with me to the library and I’ll explain.”

On the way to the library, Julia told him her decision, and from there the conversation drifted to Jihan’s story and what Mathius thought of a lord who could treat his son as badly as Jihan’s father had.

“I can’t believe a lord would stoop so low,” Mathius said in revulsion. “What of the dishonour?”

“I don’t know anything about honour, Mathius. Some people live for the now and don’t think about such things. They want riches and power and damn everyone and everything that gets in their way. I feel sorry for Jihan.”

Mathius nodded. “The dishonour stains him, even though he is not to blame.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant the beatings and the abuse.”

Mathius shrugged. “That’s nothing.”

“How can you say that?” Julia said in surprise. “Athlone used the guardsmen to attack his own son. They hounded him through the fortress. They even killed his mother!”

Mathius was unimpressed. “My father was very strict. All good fathers are.”

“Mine wasn’t. He was wonderful.”

“If he was wonderful, I’m happy for you Julia, but you must realise that discipline is important. Your world might be different,” Mathius said doubtfully. “But if a child lacks discipline it can lead to death and worse.”

“What is worse than death?”

“Dishonour is worse,” Mathius said firmly. “In my case burnout and dishonour are about equal.”

“You can’t mean that! You mean to say that you would rather lose the gift than be dishonoured?”

“No...” he said thoughtfully. “I would rather not do either, but having the choice I would rather die.”

Moriz and Halbert both murmured in agreement. “No man would let dishonour stain him lady,” Moriz said.

“The God would turn his face from him,” Halbert said.

“No,” Mathius said firmly. “The God would never do that, but He would send you back. Dishonour stains the soul. None such could abide the God’s majesty.”

The three men circled their hearts and Julia felt shut out at that moment. She hadn’t been to church for more than a year and missed it. She would have asked Father Preston about honour and dishonour if she could, but she was afraid she knew the answer. Killing people was dishonourable, it was wrong, and she had killed thousands.

“What did your father do?” Julia said into the silence.

“He was a journeyman mage in the old tradition.”

“Old tradition?”

“Before Lord Keverin’s library, a mage travelled and learned the craft simply by using it. Sometimes an exchange of information could occur, but meeting another mage was rare. My father was a great man. I didn’t know it then, but he saved me.”

“The strictness you mentioned?”

Mathius nodded. “He taught me that my magic was not to be used for frivolous things. Because of him, I have a real chance at wearing the red robe someday.”

“How come?”

“It’s a theory of mine,” Mathius said as they turned down the last corridor. “Hasian sorcerers are not truly sorcerers—not as the Founders were. They wear the black robe like a guardsman wears his lord’s sigil on his chest.” Mathius cocked a thumb at Moriz where the crossed fists of Athione decorated his chest. “There hasn’t been a true sorcerer since Martaninn. He died over a century ago. Nowadays, a wizard is a rare sight indeed. Everyone knows the magic has weakened—but what if it hasn’t?”

“Tell me,” Julia said.

“I think the reason mages no longer reach the black robe is that they age too rapidly. I think they die before getting the chance. The more a mage uses his power, the greater he becomes, but the risk of ageing is greater also.”

“How does your theory accommodate me?”

“It doesn’t,” Mathius said ruefully. “You violate all the rules concerning mages. At least on this world you do. Without our magic we are hollow and empty. Without it we live only half a life. The more a mage uses his magic, the more he craves it—just like the drugs a Camorin shaman uses to see the future. Discipline is the only thing that prevents us from attempting to draw too much. You are the same age as me Lady, but you hadn’t used your power before your arrival here. You aren’t addicted to using it for everything—just like me.”

Julia nodded, but she privately thought that she might already be addicted. Maybe it was the reason she felt the need to draw so hard while healing. Something else was puzzling her though.

“What about the different ranks then?”

Mathius seemed glad she had asked, just like a teacher pleased with a particularly bright student. He
was
her teacher, but they often taught each other how to use the magic. Their relationship was special to her, much more than the usual student to teacher relationship. It was more like sister to brother.

“That’s the problem,” Mathius said oblivious to her thoughts. “If a mage has discipline enough not to over use it and age too fast, he has time to develop his talent. The more he uses his magic the stronger he gets—like lifting heavier and heavier weights. The problem is you again. You definitely rank as a sorceress in raw power, but you are only apprentice level in experience—It makes no sense.”

When they reached the library, Moriz and Halbert silently took their places either side of the door. Julia stepped inside and felt the power of the place sweep over her.

Use me, and know your destiny.

Every time Julia came here it seemed to say something different. She knew it was her own subconscious, but it always made her stop and think when she heard its latest proclamation.

“I’ll choose some books for you to read. We can go over them together. You never know, I might learn something as well.”

“That’s fine Mathius, but wards first then mind-speech. I can always attack with lightning. I don’t really need anything else.”

Or want anything else, if the truth were known.

* * *

The armoury was a large hall on the ground floor of the sprawling fortress. It was where generations of Athione defenders had spent their days practising their skills. There were no frills here, just racks of swords, pikes, daggers, and armour. Even a few lances stood in a neat row along the wall. They had escaped destruction when lance work became unfashionable. Their brothers had been burned as firewood years ago. No one practised the lance charge anymore. What point in trying to charge out from Athione in a column of twos bristling with lances? They would be stabbing each other in the back. Deva’s lords had long since given up battles on open fields where lance charges worked, and had instead turned to small group tactics that patrols of a hundred men could execute. Well they did have the Four to protect them, what else did any kingdom reasonably need?

What else indeed, Keverin snorted in annoyance. “Not you Jihan. I was just thinking how peace can breed stupidity. Even I am guilty of it.”

Jihan stroked the wood of the lance and patted it fondly. “I know what you mean. I wasn’t happy when they forced me to learn how to handle one of these monsters.”

“You know the lance?”

Jihan nodded. “My...
tutors
were most insistent. If you follow me?”

At Keverin’s nod, Jihan moved on inspecting the swords and armour. Keverin followed watching his reactions. Jihan obviously liked the armour, and the daggers were just daggers as they were anywhere, but the swords were another matter. Jihan drew one from the rack and inspected the edge. Usually someone on punishment for some minor infraction of the rules would be detailed to the armoury. Alvin wasn’t here right now, but it was his punishment along with Galen the idiot gatekeeper to hone all these weapons. Jihan nodded at the sharpness, but he grimaced when he tested the balance. He re-racked the blade to try another.

“You know,” Jihan said. “Deva lost more than prestige and revenue when the Chulym masters left. I don’t wish to offend you but—” he hesitated torn between telling the truth and telling politic lies.

“I prefer truth in all things, Jihan,” Keverin said. “A man always knows where he stands with an honest man. Don’t fear to offend me. My skin is thick and Julia would say my head is also.” He grinned at Jihan’s look of surprise.

“I know how that is. Ahnao is... and then she’s...” Jihan sighed. “Might I ask some advice of you, my lord?”

“Of course my friend, but I warn you. If it regards women, I might not be the one to ask. Come to think of it, no man understands them!”

Jihan laughed politely, but he was itching to ask his question. Jihan played with the sword hilt a moment before shrugging and racking the weapon. “Ahnao risked herself for me twice. The first time she snuck out under the nose of my father’s guardsmen to point out a target on a roof for me. If she hadn’t done that, I would have died for sure.

“Then, after I left her to journey here she sold her house for a nag of a horse to chase after me, and shielded me when I charged two men intent on killing me. Her leg was badly broken. She did all this for me, but when we arrive here and all is well again, she starts yelling and carrying on—” Jihan looked at Keverin in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”

Keverin laughed and clapped Jihan on the shoulder. “How do you feel about her?”

“I do not know, I mean...” Jihan blushed and set himself as if facing an ordeal. “I have never held a woman before Ahnao, and I have never… you know... at all. I think I would like to with Ahnao very much, but she sees a rich lord when she looks at me, and I’m not—not anymore.”

“You can get that out of your head right now Jihan,” Keverin said sharply. “You were unconscious when Julia healed Ahnao, but if you had seen her, you wouldn’t have said what you did. She was delirious and in great pain, but she was begging Julia to leave her and heal you instead. She loves you, Jihan. I promise on my honour it’s true. You must think carefully how to proceed.”

Jihan looked stunned.

“She’s not a noble, Jihan,” Keverin warned the smiling boy.

Jihan was obviously taken with the idea that someone other than his mother loved him. “I don’t care about that.”

“Your father will, and Ahnao will have a hard time adjusting to life at Malcor—if the others will even let her try.”

“Being a noble has caused me nothing but grief. I swear I would be happy as a forester. I’ll have to tell you about the time I lived alone in the woods sometime, but will Ahnao be happy with a simple forester?”

Keverin tried and failed to see Jihan as anything but what he was. If there was a man that looked less like a forester and more like a lord he did not know him. Everything about Jihan shouted his birth. He would believe himself a blacksmith before he believed Jihan a forester!