Branches of Time, The (20 page)

“Miril, if you want, you can. It would make me happy.”

“Are you sure, Lil?”

The young woman nodded.

Miril's lips sweetly pressed against Lil's, resting there for a little while. They broke away for a moment, then reunited.

“Oh, Lil…”

Lil abandoned herself to her friend's sweet passion, wondering if it was Miril's first kiss. She wanted to taste the flavor of her mouth, but restrained herself.

They stood, holding each other, their lips chasing after the other's mouth.

“Good night,” Miril finally said.

Lil didn't want the priestess to stop with that kiss. But she only replied: “Good night, Miril.”

Miril lowered her head and brought the back of Lil's hands to her mouth, kissing them. Then she turned and left.

42

The young apprentice Ilis walked through the palace courtyard, lost in his own thoughts. The master was rather satisfied with him, and it seemed like even the king was happy with the progress they had made. Yet he wasn't too thrilled with the role he was playing.

They had already exterminated almost everyone on that island. Why did they have to terrorize the poor survivors? If their magic rites really did keep the barrier intact and isolate their people from the rest of the world, couldn't there be another way to reach the same goal? He wondered if it would be possible to communicate with the survivors in another manner, to persuade them to do what they wanted. After the storm of rock shards his master Aldin had arranged, he didn't think it was possible to establish peaceful relations with the islanders, but their position of extreme weakness could, perhaps, make them a little more willing to negotiate. Really, what future awaited them if they stayed there alone? Wouldn't they perhaps be better off in the company of those with whom they used to share their lands, once upon a time?

He felt sorry for that man on the island, so lost and isolated. He wished he could help him instead of manipulating him into murdering another person.

A pleasant song roused him from his reflections. Through a window in the room underneath a little arcade, he saw a woman's silhouette, bent over her embroidery. She sang a folk song, one of the tunes his nurse used to sing to him when he was still a little boy.

Intrigued, he opened the small wooden door and walked into the room, where he saw Milia, the king's young wife. He had attended their unusual evening ceremony a few weeks earlier. It had been organized hastily, and the absence of the bride's father made it seem all the more strange.

As the apprentice entered, the song stopped.

“Pardon me, I didn't mean to disturb you, my lady,” the young man apologized.

Milia's eyes pierced through him. “You didn't disturb me. And just call me Milia. Until a few weeks ago I was a simple servant girl. I'm having a hard time getting used to my new
royal
rank.”

Still standing in the doorway, Ilis observed her cautiously: “I imagine it's a position that has its benefits.”

Milia replied sadly: “Oh yes, of course. Many benefits, such as having to satisfy the perversions of a furious madman every night.”

Ilis' face flushed. He had never heard anyone talk about King Beanor in that way, much less in a room of the palace.

He came forward, scolding her gently: “What do you mean? Being the king's wife is what every young lady in the kingdom dreams of.”

Milia stared at him for a few seconds and then began weeping, covering her face with her hands.

“What's wrong?”

“I hate him!” she explained between sobs. “And I hate this position. It's horrendous. Before I had to work, but I had real friends. I had my family. And...him.”

“Him? Him who?” Ilis' eyes grew wide.

Milia just cried harder.

“Shhh!” Ilis motioned for her to stop crying. “They might hear us.”

“So what?” Milia retorted, her face wet with tears. “Let them hear me! What, I can't even cry around here?” Her accusatory tone almost made Ilis feel as if he were the cause of all her problems.

Embarrassed, the young man came closer to her. He wanted to help her, but she just kept crying. “Come on, now, maybe we can do something to make you feel better,” he said, uncertain.

“What? What? The other wives hate me. They act like the king is just a big toy. They all look at me as if I were the millionth whore the king decided to fuck because he liked her ass. What solution is there? I'm alone, completely alone, and I don't have anyone anymore.”

Ilis didn't know what to do, so he just watched her cry. People said the king had decided to marry her merely hours after seeing her for the first time. Now Ilis understood why.

“I'm here for you,” he reassured her in a burst of courage, not knowing how those words had managed to come out of his own mouth.

Milia looked at him, her eyes swollen and glassy. “You? You want to be my friend?”

“Of course. It would be an honor.”

The girl got up, came towards him and threw her arms around his neck.

43

“I can't take it anymore!” Milia howled. “He's nasty, cruel, perverted and sadistic. I don't want to spend another night in his company.”

Despite the thick walls surrounding the underground room, Ilis feared that someone would hear them. “Come on now, calm down.”

“Calm down? You don't have to spend your nights satisfying that pig! I'm done! I'd rather die than go on in this way.”

Ilis felt his blood freeze. “Now Milia, don't go around saying those sorts of things.”

She collapsed onto a leather couch and, with a candle, lit the
formir
, a long pipe in which burned the leaves of a very rare tree. Only the most important dignitaries of the court could enjoy the luxury of smoking.

Milia liked meeting with Ilis in this place, not to mention the pleasure of relaxing in a space far from prying eyes.

After a few puffs, the young woman had calmed down. She inhaled again, held the smoke in her lungs and exhaled.

Milia turned towards Ilis: “Want to try?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“Oh no, no thanks. I don't think my master would be very happy with me if I did.”

“Your master isn't here now. It's just me and you. Sure you don't want to? You have no idea how nice it is.”

Ilis sat down next to her. “Well, Milia, generally apprentices have to abstain from all vices while they're studying magic.”

“Says who?” Milia challenged him, mockingly. “I don't see how a moment of pleasure can cause any problems with your magical education.”

Milia took a deep inhale and exhaled in Ilis' direction. He smelled the aroma of the scented smoke.

“Come on, just try it. A little puff won't cause any problems,” Milia coaxed, giving him a wink.

Ilis was pretty sure that this was forbidden. But, then again, he had never actually been explicitly told not to smoke. Besides, those leaves were nearly impossible to find, so they weren't going to cause him any long-term problems. Furthermore, a wizard was supposed to learn as much as he could about the real world around him.

He bent down towards the mouthpiece, hesitant.

Milia pushed it between his lips. “Good job. Now breathe in. Hold it, hold it...and now let it all out.”

He coughed. Tears came to his eyes and his head immediately started spinning, but he felt much lighter. His problems and anxieties disappeared. Milia, sitting with both her legs up on the couch, looked even more enticing to him.

She took a large mouthful for herself, then handed him the mouthpiece. Ilis didn't hesitate this time.

When the embers of the
formir
stopped burning, both of them laid back with their heads resting on the couch pillows. Ilis, feeling more relaxed than he had ever been, watched Milia's chest rise and fall as she breathed.

“This is so nice. Too bad we both have to go back to our bosses soon. I wish we didn't have to live this way.”

Ilis watched her lips open and close.

“You're a wizard. You should be able to put an end to all of this.”

Ilis was lost in the brilliant blue of those eyes, as wide as the sky.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Milia scolded him, her voice louder.

The apprentice snapped out of it: “What? Who?”

“I said that you should be able to put an end to all of our suffering. Would you do it? For me?”

What wouldn't I do for her!
the young man thought, without understanding what Milia was talking about.

“I'll do whatever you want me to do. What do you want, Milia?” Ilis asked, lost in the darkness of her pupils.

“I want you to free us from the king!”

44

Satisfied, Beanor stroked his unkempt beard. “Interesting. So we'll use this Bashinoir to eliminate the priestess who's the only one still keeping the island's protections active,” he summarized.

Obolil, sitting on a chair at the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne, responded: “Exactly, your Majesty. Through the astral dimension, we were able to get to the barrier, and from there we projected a shadow all the way to the island. Using the shadow, we've been able to communicate telepathically with this man, who feels very isolated and alone. So -”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Don't waste my time with all these explanations. When will everything be taken care of?”

Ilis, standing next to Obolil, couldn't resist the impulse to look up towards his master, who was clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Your Majesty,” the old wizard explained. “This type of manipulation takes time. If we rush things along too quickly-”

“Words, words, words. For as long as I can remember it's been nothing but words! I've been waiting decades for you to resolve this. How much more time can it possibly take to eliminate two or three survivors?”

Tuirl, sitting to Obolil's left, intervened: “Your Majesty, I think the plan developed by our wizards is excellent on all accounts and, from what they've reported, I don't think we'll be waiting much longer.”

Beanor threw his advisor a disgusted look. “Do you have any idea how many times you've asked me to wait? Wait, wait, wait. If you had it your way, I'd do nothing but wait! Your advice has led us nowhere, all we do is waste our lives on this frozen and inhospitable land, just like our ancestors before us. At least Aldin managed to get something done.”

Hearing those words, Obolil flushed with humiliation. A loud coughing fit rattled through his battered body.

“Your Majesty,” Ilis interjected, unable to restrain himself. The eyes of the king and the advisor stared at him, menacing. It was the first time the young apprentice had ever dared to speak. “It really won't take very long. Communicating with Bashinoir, I can feel the emotions of a man destroyed by guilt, by isolation, and by the thirst for revenge. His ex-wife is now a novice, serving the priestess. He feels alone. I managed to make him believe that what happened was all the priestess's fault and - ”

“Did you say that you
communicated
with this Bashinoir?” Beanor asked warily.

“Your Majesty,” Obolil interrupted, his voice cracking.

“I wasn't talking to you! Answer me, boy!”

Tuirl saw Obolil grit his teeth.

“Y-yes,” Ilis replied. “I followed the master's instructions.”

“Ah, very well! So the master considers it unworthy of his time to accompany you on these little trips?”

Ilis placed his hand on the back of the chair. It no longer seemed as if his legs were going to support him. Obolil tried to move his neck back to look at him yet failed, due to a lack of flexibility.

“I work together with the master. He tells me what to do and I do it.”

“And how come the wizard Obolil entrusted such a delicate task to a lowly apprentice?”

Ilis lowered his eyes to the ground, embarrassed. His intervention to defend his master had instead backfired, leading to yet another humiliation for Obolil.

The wizard's face was beet red.

Tuirl tried to salvage the situation: “Your Majesty, these complex magical operations require a harmonious team, that only -”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Obolil, Tuirl, if all you intend to do here is talk, you can leave now.”

Obolil stood up, trembling and infuriated. Instead of bowing, he merely nodded at the king, then left the room, followed by Tuirl, who walked with his usual composure.

“From now on, you report your progress personally, to me, every day. Do you understand, boy?” the king ordered.

The apprentice, incredibly embarrassed, had no idea how to act. This was his first time ever alone with the king and, even worse, he knew that he had angered his master. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

“Listen to me good. Old Obolil never succeeded in getting any kind of results for years. He's so worthless he deserves nothing more than to be tortured in prison. I expect more from you. Only one bastard, the girl he was fucking and a batty virgin live on that island. You need to get rid of them all as soon as possible! Got it? I won't tolerate any more delays. Otherwise, that useless old fart will be the first to pay for it. And I think you can imagine who the second person to suffer will be.”