A Young Man Without Magic (19 page)

Not all that attention would be favorable, so he would need to have
his words planned out, so that he could say what he had to say quickly and then leave quickly.

He hoped that he could make his speech without being recognized, but he had to consider the possibility that that would not happen. He had to be prepared for the consequences. It might well be necessary to flee the area temporarily, rather than return immediately to his uncle's house. With that in mind he made a few preparations in addition to his speech, gathering and concealing his personal fortune, such as it was—all of it, he knew, given him by Lord Dorias; he owed his uncle debts he could never repay.

“Your voice will be heard,” he muttered to himself more than once.

At the burial itself, when it came Anrel's turn to speak a few words, he stood up and said, “My friend and childhood companion was murdered by Lord Allutar so that his voice would not be heard by the people of Aulix. I want you all to know that his voice
will
be heard. I did not believe the things Valin believed; I did not share his idealism; but I will not permit those beliefs and ideals to die with my friend. To do so would be to betray him, and that I will not do. We bury the body of Lord Valin li-Tarbek today, but his words will live on.”

Then he sat down. This was not the time or place to make his stand; there were no more than thirty people in attendance, most of them servants. Lord Allutar, of course, was not in attendance, as his presence could only have been considered a deliberate insult to Valin's memory.

Lord Dorias clearly found Anrel's brief speech disconcerting; Lady Saria, red-eyed and weeping, seemed baffled by it. Their own eulogies were far more traditional, extolling Valin's compassion and good humor.

Valin's parents, brother, and sisters, however, appeared to be frightened by Anrel's words, and refused to speak to him afterward. Anrel regretted that; he had only met them once or twice before, years earlier, and would have liked a chance to share their grief. He did not pretend, however, that he did not understand their reluctance; they had heard him call the landgrave of Aulix a murderer, and wanted no part of such sedition. Their son and brother was dead, but they were not, and they preferred to keep it that way.

After the service, after the li-Tarbeks had turned away, declined an invitation from Lord Dorias, and left for home, Anrel went directly to his room and shut the door, not speaking to anyone.

The following morning, immediately after breakfast, he set out for Naith. He had chosen his attire carefully, to be tasteful without being particularly distinctive—he wanted to look like a man to be taken seriously, but not one who would stand out immediately. He wore a fine brown velvet coat and fawn-colored breeches, and had replaced his customary student's cap with a broad-brimmed traveler's hat. In case he should be caught and searched he had concealed a good part of his funds by sewing coins into his coat, under the lining, each one suspended by just a few threads.

He made his way to Aulix Square, following the route Valin had shown him, and found the square just as he remembered it. He walked around the perimeter, considering it all carefully, choosing the best spot to carry out his plans.

The north end of the square was taken up by the courthouse, the center of government for the entire province, an imposing building in the simple, elegant style of the late Old Empire; legend had it that the original courthouse had been converted from a wizard's abandoned villa after the Old Empire's fall, but the structure had been expanded many times over the centuries, and Anrel doubted much remained of that ancient estate. Elaborate warding spells kept its polished stone façade clean.

The south side of the square was completely filled by the Provincial College of Sorcerers, a dark contrast to the clean, straight lines of the courthouse; the college had been built three hundred years before, in the ornate fashion of the time, and had been blackened by centuries of smoke and filth that clung to the porous gray stone and accumulated in the niches and crannies—no wards had been devoted to appearances here, though Anrel had no doubt the structure's magical protections were otherwise formidable. Twisted spires thrust up from every corner and portico, and gargoyles clung to every cornice, their carved faces glowering down at the crowds in the square.

To the west the square was bound by a row of grand houses—Anrel
counted five. Most were of recent vintage, going by the architecture. Anrel considered the grand balcony on the central one thoughtfully before moving on.

The eastern side of the square was made up of shops—vintners, restaurants, a bookshop, a bakery, and half a dozen others—with two or three floors of rooms and apartments above each one. The wine garden where he had spent the day with Valin was not technically on the square itself, but just around the corner at the southern end of this row.

Down the center of Aulix Square was a line, north to south, of sculpture. At either end of this was a fountain—a round stone pool, perhaps twenty feet in diameter, with water spraying up from the center. Between the fountains stood several carved stone benches, facing east and west, and between the benches, upon sturdy marble pedestals, were statues of famous men—though in truth, Anrel did not recognize most of them.

And at the midpoint of this line, in the exact center of the square, was a broad plinth, perhaps fifteen feet square and four feet high, supporting a grand pedestal that held a statue of the First Emperor, in his robe and crown, holding up a golden sphere in his right hand, a sphere that shone so brightly with magic that the glow was dimly visible even in daylight.

Anrel considered that balcony, and the courthouse steps, and the central portico of the college, and even the arbor over the entrance of a restaurant, but in the end there really wasn't any other choice. As the midday crowds began to fill the square he threw himself atop the central plinth, then grabbed the First Emperor's leg and heaved himself up onto the great man's pedestal, where he reached up and steadied himself by holding that outstretched right arm. He tugged his hat forward to shadow his face—while it was unlikely anyone from Alzur would be here and recognize him, he had been introduced to several people in the wine garden. There was no need to make his features too visible.

“People of Aulix!” he shouted.

A few faces turned up to look at him; one or two people pointed him out to companions, and someone laughed.

“People of Aulix,” Anrel repeated, “you stand at a crossroads of history!”

“Who are
you
?” someone called.

“You have an opportunity to remake your province, the empire, the
world
!” Anrel proclaimed. “It is within your grasp; you need merely reach out and take it!”

“What's he talking about?”

“Is he a sorcerer?”

“I don't understand.”

“Who
are
you?”

“
Who are you?
”

Anrel looked down at his audience and decided he needed a name, but even if he were to admit his identity, who would listen to Anrel Murau, the obscure young scholar, the failed son of dead sorcerers? “Call me Alvos,” he said, using a word for “speaker” from the ancient Imperial tongue. “I speak for all of you—not only for those who are here today, but for those who have died, and those yet to be born. I speak for all Walasians everywhere, throughout the empire!”

“He's mad,” a woman's voice called.

“Let him talk,” someone answered.

“You all know that the emperor has summoned the Grand Council,” Anrel shouted. “You know he has said that half the representatives are to be chosen by the common people of the empire. But do you understand what that means?”

The crowd of upturned faces was growing; more and more of the people in the square were gathering about him, and listening to his words. Anrel thought he saw familiar features here and there, people who had listened to Valin hold forth at the wine garden.

“The first Grand Council
made
the empire!” Anrel said. “The Old Empire had fallen, the ancient wizards had vanished, and the survivors, the original Walasians, gathered in the Grand Council to create a
new
empire. It was the Grand Council that first decreed that all sorcerers and only sorcerers would be nobles of the empire. It was the Grand Council that decreed that to lessen the risk of assassinations and struggles for the throne, the emperor could
not
be a magician. It was the Grand Council that chose the First Emperor, whose image you see here behind me, and decreed that he and his family would rule. There is no higher
human authority than the Grand Council. There can
be
no higher human authority than the Grand Council. The Grand Council
is
the empire.” He paused dramatically, then continued, “And now, after almost six hundred years, the emperor has commanded the reinstatement of the Grand Council, and
you,
people of Aulix, are to choose members of the Grand Council.
You
are to choose the men who will determine your fate.” He pointed at one face after another. “
You
, and
you
, and
you—you
will decide the fate of the empire!
You
have the power to send our arrogant spendthrift empress back to her Ermetian family!
You
have the power to remove the wastrel emperor from his throne and set another in his place!
You
have the power to dismiss Lord Allutar and name a new landgrave of Aulix—or to do away with sorcerers and landgraves and provinces altogether! It is for
you
to decide! I am not telling you what the Grand Council should do, because that is not for me to say—I have no more right to direct it than
you
do, each and every one of you! Do you understand that?
Do you?
”

A few voices called out something that might have been agreement.

“That part is simple enough—you don't know who I am, and I'm just another citizen,” Anrel continued. “But here's the part you may not have grasped yet.
Lord Allutar
has no more right to direct the Grand Council than you do! The burgrave of Naith has no more right than you do!” He pointed first at the courthouse, and then at the college. “The Lords Magistrate, the entire College of Sorcerers—
they
have no more say than any of
you
once the Grand Council convenes in Lume, unless—” He paused again, looking out over the crowd.

Hundreds of faces were turned up toward him now; hundreds of voices were hushed in anticipation. Anrel glanced toward the courthouse, and as he had expected, there were men in the uniform of the city watch conferring on the courthouse steps. He might not have much time left to speak.

He turned his attention back to the crowd below him. “
Unless you give it to them!
” he shouted. “That's right, all power in the empire comes from
you
, but the sorcerers will be only happy to take it from you if you let them. You must choose
your own
delegates! Don't let Lord Allutar handpick his own lackeys as your representatives—choose
your own
men, men of goodwill and stout heart, men who will stand up for the rights of every citizen of the empire, whether he has a true name and wears silks and velvets, or scarcely knows his own father and goes barefoot in rags! All of us have rights,
all
of us! We are
all
the heirs of the Father and the Mother; we are all the heirs of the Old Empire. The empire belongs to
all
of us, from the mightiest lord to the poorest beggar. Our ancestors gave the sorcerers their privileges so that they would use their magic to help the empire thrive, but have they
earned
those privileges of late? Has
your
family been thriving? Has their sorcery helped
you
, or are you worried about what your children will eat this winter? Have the sorcerers earned our loyalty? Do we still
need
their magic? Do they use it for the good of the empire, or for their
own
ends? Perhaps it's time for the Grand Council to take those privileges back!” He gestured broadly, but then drew his arm back to his chest, his hand in a fist. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps we do still want the sorcerers to tell us what to do. It's not for
me
to say. But I do say that
you
must choose delegates who will have the courage, the
audacity
, to do whatever is right, to think the unthinkable, to consider
every
option, and to do
whatever it takes
to make the empire flourish and see that every belly is filled, regardless of who they may need to defy, what power they may need to cast down, to see that it's done!”

“And who would
that
be?” someone called from the crowd. “You?”

“Me?” Anrel laughed. “
Me?
No, I am only a speaker, I am merely Alvos—I don't have the integrity, the courage, the learning to represent you on the Grand Council. No, you must choose men who have studied the issues, men who know and understand the ways of the world, men with the vision to see what the empire can become. Men like Derhin li-Parsil or Amanir tel-Kabanim.” His smile vanished as he said, “A few days ago, my friends, I might have named Lord Valin li-Tarbek; indeed, Lord Dorias, the burgrave of Alzur,
had
named Lord Valin as Alzur's appointed delegate. Lord Allutar was not happy with that choice, and four days ago he
killed
Lord Valin, so that his voice would not be heard in Lume. He silenced one of the finest voices in this province so that he might substitute a man more to his liking. I implore you, people of Aulix, do not allow this injustice, this tyranny, to stand! Do not vote for any
candidate Lord Allutar might name; vote instead for the likes of Derhin li-Parsil, for the voices that will speak up for freedom and justice and prosperity! Demand that your burgraves choose
good
men, not toadies and lickspittles!”