A Young Man Without Magic (14 page)

“I would be willing,” Valin said.

Dorias turned to see that Valin had straightened, removing himself from the door frame. He stood erect, eyes bright.

“I know Alzur well,” Valin said. “I have lived here half my life, after all. And they will expect you to send a sorcerer—with half the council made up of commoners, I think every noble will name a sorcerer as his delegate, and it would seem odd were you to do otherwise. What other sorcerer could you choose?”

Dorias hesitated.

“I have little to keep me here,” Valin continued. “You have made it clear—oh, only most subtly and politely, but clear!—that you are displeased I have found no appropriate employment, and I, too, chafe at my enforced idleness; here, then, is a way to put me to work. More, I have spoken at length with scholars and others in Naith regarding the issues the Grand Council will address; you could find no one better prepared than I. Further, you know that I have little love for Lord Allutar, and I believe Lady Saria has hopes that he will be spending more time under this roof in the future; would it not be more pleasant for all concerned if I am gainfully occupied elsewhere? And finally, Magister, I would enjoy an opportunity to see the capital and its wonders for more than the few days I have been able to visit there.”

Anrel sat and stared at his stunned uncle, trying to decide whether he should say anything. All Valin's reasons were true—in fact, Anrel was startled at Valin's honesty in presenting them all so openly. But there were strong reasons that Valin should
not
be named to the council, as well, beginning with Anrel's conviction that his friend, much as he loved him, was an idealistic fool.

As for avoiding Lord Allutar, the landgrave had clearly implied that he would be choosing
himself
as his delegate. Putting Valin and Allutar in the same deliberative body would not be conducive to any sort of peaceful negotiation, especially in light of Lord Allutar's warning, given little more than an hour earlier.

But on the other hand, the Walasian Empire held sixteen provinces, eleven margravates, and some hundreds of towns; the Grand Council would be made up of twice that number. It would not be impossible for the two men to avoid each other in such a crowd.

Valin's idealism, too, would surely be rendered harmless in such a crowd . . .

“Done,” Dorias said, holding out his hand to his fosterling. “You shall be my delegate to the Grand Council. And
that
is one less foolish concern troubling me!”

“Uncle,” Anrel said, “there is no need for haste—”

“Nor is there any reason for delay,” Valin said. “Thank you, Magister!” He bowed.

“Let him have plenty of time to get ready,” Dorias said to Anrel. “After all, he needs to be in Lume in less than a season.”

“He can be ready in a day, and reach Lume in five!” Anrel protested.

“But why rush so?”

“Exactly, my lord—why rush? At least give it a day's thought . . .”

“Anrel,” Valin said, his tone hurt, “I thought you would be pleased on my behalf.”

“I am!” Anrel said, startled. “But I . . . I am of a cautious disposition in such matters, and would not see you caught up in something you may later regret. Could you not both give this a day's thought, before determining it so definitely?”

“No need!” Dorias said, clapping Anrel on the shoulder. “I know a good idea when I hear it, and this one has all the earmarks. You turned the position down, Anrel; I would say that forfeits any claim you might have to a say in who takes it.”

“I do not question—” He broke off in midsentence, and sighed. “As you will, then, Uncle. I have no desire to vex you. I confess, I can see every argument in favor of such a choice, while those opposed seem hazy and ill-defined; I assure you, it is only my natural caution and my love for you both that impels me to ask whether there may be risks or drawbacks we have not yet considered.”

“Caution is a worthy trait,” Dorias said, “but there are times when boldness and instinct will serve as well. I am content with my choice. It relieves my mind. I prefer to have it over and done, and so it is.”

“As you say, Uncle.”

“That's settled, then.” Dorias plucked the letter from Anrel's hand and tossed it on a table, then strode out of the room, smiling.

“Anrel, why did you—” Valin began, stepping over toward Anrel.

“I will miss you, Valin,” Anrel interrupted.

Valin stopped. “Oh,” he said.

“If we are both to spend years in Lume, I would have preferred that those years coincide,” Anrel said. “Alas, they will not.”

“Perhaps you can come to Lume to clerk for me,” Valin said. “Or perhaps you might be chosen as one of the commoners.”

Anrel shook his head. “No. I would not accept such a choice. I am
very tired of Lume, Valin, and of the empire's politics. Four years there was more than enough for me, at least for the present. Even the pleasure of your company cannot draw me back there so soon.”

“Oh,” Valin said again.

“There is something more,” Anrel said. “You realize that Lord Allutar's selection is to be the landgrave himself? The two of you will be serving together in the delegation from Aulix. For the sake of the House of Adirane and the people of Alzur, you must restrain your feelings toward the man and present a united front to the world.”

“He chooses
himself
? Is that what that footman told you?” Valin grimaced. “The man has no shame.”

“He certainly does not bother with false modesty,” Anrel said, noting without surprise that Valin had failed to register Lord Allutar's intention.

“It's good, then, that I will be there to remind him that he is merely mortal,” Valin said with a wolfish grin.

“Oh, no,” Anrel said warningly. “He is still the landgrave of Aulix. Do not vex him needlessly.”

“Needlessly? But I think such arrogance
does
need to be punctured.”

“Valin, as long as you remain tied to Alzur, you will have to live with Lord Allutar; surely it would be better to have peace between you!”

“No, I do not think it would,” Valin replied, still smiling. “A man can be judged by his foes, don't you think? One who never makes an enemy can hardly be much of a man at all! Let all see that I have chosen the very essence of sorcerous pride as my nemesis, and that I fear him not a whit.”

“Perhaps you
should
fear him!”

“I fear no one, Anrel, not even the emperor himself. I have right on my side, and the spirits of our ancestors, human and divine, will see that I thrive thereby.”

“Father and Mother, Valin, you make such a claim, and then you say
Lord Allutar
is arrogant?”

Valin laughed. “You catch me out, Anrel! Yet I
do
believe I am fully in the right in what I am undertaking. The empire's structure is rotten, can you not see that? The bad wood needs to be cut away, and fresh wood set in its place, and I have no doubt that Lord Allutar represents the very worst sort of decay.”

“I know you believe that,” Anrel said. “For my own part, I am not entirely convinced. And even if it is the simple truth, be wary that you do not bring it all down upon your head when you tap repeatedly at that rotted beam. Remember what befell Uru—the baker's son.”

Valin's laughter faded. “
That
is why I can never live in peace with Lord Allutar,” he said. “He killed a boy for a spell!”

“A spell that may have saved the livelihoods of many farmers, and perhaps filled hundreds of hungry bellies.”

“A few missed meals to save a man's life? I think that a bad bargain.”

“I think you misjudge the severity of the crop failures.” In fact, Anrel suspected that Valin, despite his commoner heritage, had no real concept of what true hunger was like, or that those failed harvests would cost real lives. Anrel might not have understood the reality himself if he had not seen some of what he had seen in Lume, and had not fought the axe-wielding thief in the Adiranes' grove.

“Why are you determined to make excuses for the man?” Valin asked, annoyed. “You claim to dislike him as much as I do, yet you constantly argue on his behalf!”

“I am striving for objectivity, as I have been trained to do,” Anrel said. “You seem determined to condemn him, so when speaking with you I look for extenuating circumstances. To my cousin, who seems to see Lord Allutar through a golden haze, I am more likely to focus on his shortcomings.”

“Ah, then you are determined to
disagree
with everyone, rather than to take any specific position! I hardly think that is the sort of objectivity your professors had in mind. Do you think there is no actual right or wrong here, no just assessment of the facts?”

“I do not think either you or Lady Saria has arrived at so flawless a view that I should not quibble. Lord Allutar is neither hero nor monster, but a man like the rest of us.” He could not help smiling and adding, “Albeit a most aggravating one.”

“And arrogant, Anrel. It is the sheer
gall
of the man that affronts me.”

“And arrogant, yes. But he is the landgrave of Aulix, and likely to remain so. He is, like yourself, to be a member of the Grand Council, and as you have told me yourself, there can be no higher authority in Walasia
than the council. He is a powerful sorcerer, a man of ancient and honorable family, holder of extensive lands, and rumored to be the heir to certain unique talents and bindings. His mind and will are strong, and he has the emperor's favor. His arrogance is not empty. If you truly wish to aid the people of Alzur and the rest of Aulix, then it does not serve you well to antagonize their master.”

Valin stared at him for a moment before replying, “They taught you well in Lume—I cannot but acknowledge that you have a point.” He shrugged. “Perhaps a majority of the council will see him as I do, and strip him of his lands and titles—but for now, you are right. I should not go out of my way to trouble him, and for your sake, for Lady Saria's sake, and for the sake of the people of Alzur, I will not, I promise you. But note, I say ‘go out of my way.' I cannot hold my tongue should he commit some other enormity, nor will I.”

“I would not ask it,” Anrel said.

“Then we understand each other.”

“And that being said, shall we go find Ziral, and see if he can find us some entertaining beverage with which to celebrate your appointment to the Grand Council?”

“An excellent idea, my dear Anrel!”

With that, the two of them headed for the kitchens, in search of the butler and his key to the wine cellar.

The following day a message arrived for Lord Dorias, saying that Lord Allutar hoped to call on him and his daughter that evening. Dorias promptly sent a reply assuring the landgrave that he would be made welcome.

He then summoned Anrel.

“Yes, Uncle?” Anrel said, as he entered Dorias's study. “Anrel, my dear boy,” Dorias said, shifting in his chair so that the leather upholstery creaked. “While I am delighted to have you here, do you not find the quiet evenings here tedious, after the excitements of Lume?”

Anrel considered this for a moment, debating whether or not he should pretend to be unaware of his uncle's purpose, and decided to save everyone some time and avoid the possibility of misunderstanding, at the cost of any pretense of civility.

“Not in the least,” he said, “but I take your true intent to be to ask that I take Valin elsewhere this evening, so that he and Lord Allutar might more readily avoid each other.”

Dorias blinked, then seemed to sag in his chair. “Yes,” he said. “You're right. I don't know what it is with that young man; he seems to take an unnatural delight in angering the landgrave.”

“I think he has appointed himself Urunar Kazien's avenger, Uncle,” Anrel said. “Though why he feels that troublesome youth deserves
avenging I am not entirely sure. Perhaps Valin took too much to heart Lord Blackfield's admonitions against black magic.”

“Perhaps so. Trust a Quandishman to stir up trouble, eh? At any rate, I would very much prefer that Lord Allutar hear of Valin's selection as my delegate from me, rather than from Valin.”

“A worthy goal, my lord uncle.” He sketched a bow. “I will do what I can to keep Lord Valin entertained elsewhere.”

“Thank you, Anrel.” Dorias shook his head. “There are times I think it very perverse of the Father and Mother to have given Valin sorcery, and left you with none.”

“I am quite content with my lot, Uncle,” Anrel replied, retreating a step. “Remember what befell my parents—do you know, my very earliest memory is of stepping in their blood, and not understanding what it was? I know I then looked up and saw their bodies, and I am told I began screaming uncontrollably, but I do not recall that; I only remember feeling the sticky wetness under my shoe, and looking down to see what caused it.” He shuddered. “If sorcery carries such risks, I am just as pleased to live without it.”

“Oh, but!” Dorias protested. “Really, Anrel, you know better than that. You have lived with me for these, what, almost eighteen years—well, thirteen or fourteen, I suppose, if one doesn't count your time in Lume. You have seen me perform any number of wardings and bindings. You have seen Lady Saria, little more than a child, and Lord Valin, who you know to sometimes show all the sense of a sparrow, cast any number of spells without suffering any harm. You have felt the resonances when Lord Allutar works enchantments that cover the entire province. Has any of us come to any harm thereby? What happened to your dear parents was a horror—I miss your mother to this day—and yes, it was to all appearances caused by sorcery gone wrong, but it was an almost unique tragedy. Its very nature remains a mystery. You might just as well fear walking out of doors lest you be struck by lightning.”