In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (49 page)

The old man smiled.  “Magi, I will tell you what I can, and everything I share will be true.  But you will have to judge that for yourself.  Would you be so kind as to refill my cup before I begin?  I’m comfortable next to the fire you’ve made, but my story is long, and I will need more wine to get through it.”

After Magi obliged, silently
if not a little impatiently, Tomas began.  “You know that every Mage must receive a prophecy before deciding whether to climb the Staircase, correct?  My prophecy showed pain, loss, and anguish.  I took that as a sign that I should not Climb, and so I did not.  I can’t share the details obviously, but you can see how I live.  Let us just say that it has come to fruition.”  He took a small sip and continued.

“I married a beautiful woman, your mother, and we made a home in Paragatha.  I had a fair skill in mixing magic with inanimate objects
—nothing fancy, of course—but practical.  Pots that stirred themselves, books that turned their own pages, coins that were invisible until ready to be spent, I even once wove a spell into a chair that would help stand a person up if they struggled with their legs.  My inventions sold well enough, and I had enough gold to have a family.  You were born, and were the center of your mother, Jacyntha’s, life.  Mine as well.  I called your mother Jaz for short…” Tears slid from Tomas’s milky eyeballs and down his cheeks while he stared off to a faraway place, lost in memory.

Magi reached into one of his inner pouches for a flask for himself.  Empty.  He sighed and let the old man continue.

“Jaz and I had you in our home for 297 days.  I’ve counted those days in my mind over and over again, praying to whatever gods I could find to bring you back to us.  Those prayers were answered today when you spit on me.”  He sipped his dark, grainy wine and let his words hang in the air for a few moments.

Magi cleared his throat.  “I had no idea who you were
, old man.  Surely you can look past that?”

The old man smiled.  “I have learned to look past much in my life
, even with these eyes.  But the bigger question is why should it matter whether I am your father or not?  Would it have been ok to steal from me and spit on me had I been just a random beggar?”

“You don’t know my story, old man.”  Magi stood, more out of habit than out of any
attempt to intimidate the old fool.

“No, but I will.  And I expect you will tell me nothing that would excuse your action
s.  But that is for a different time.  I have much worse to say that requires
your
forgiveness, so we will add up the score when I am finished.  May I continue?”

“
Please do.  I want to know why you were so reckless with your experiments.”  Magi was growing more impatient by the second.

“
Reckless with my experiments?  Is that what that murdering beast told you?”  Suddenly, Tomas stood to his full height.  For the first time, Magi saw where he got his athletic, stocky build from.  When his father unfolded, he was a large man.

Magi
leaned back as if slapped he was so taken aback. 
Murdering beast? 
“Yes.  I was told that Marik was your good friend.  He said that he came to visit one day while you were conducting one of your alchemy experiments, and that you and my mother died in your foolish attempt to turn iron into gold.  You were burned to death from the acid explosion and resulting fire.  Though Marik tried to save you both, it was beyond his skill, and after you died he took it upon himself to raise me.  He was as shocked as I was to find out that you were alive.  An Elven prophet told me to seek you out, and advised Marik to do the same.  But…I don’t know.  He wanted to see you first, and I didn’t trust that, so he left, and I trust him less now than ever.  That is why I am here.  I take it this was all a lie?”  Out of habit, Magi tried to twist his now-absent ring.

“Aye.  It was a lie, my son.  The worst.”  Tomas said bitterly.  “This Marik
, as you call him, showed up one day with his Master and invited himself in.  I could tell by his eyes he was a True Mage, though he deferred to another.  I never heard his name, nor his Master’s.  His Master had normal enough looking eyes, and he was dressed that night like an everyday traveler, but there was something about him.  He was large, powerfully built, and carried a sword. 
Commanding. 
Marik was under his authority.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a mage as well, for I saw spell pouches at his waist.  I know that’s hard to believe, but I saw what I saw.

“
From that day up until this evening I have wished that they had been successful in their attempt to kill me.  They almost did, too.”  He swished the last of the wine in his cup before swallowing, then shook the cup, silently asking for a refill.  Annoyed, Magi grabbed his cup and refilled it.  Again.

“
When they showed up that evening, I asked them what their business was.  I was holding you, rocking you, son.  Jaz was in the other room, preparing something for us to eat when she heard the two strangers force their way inside.  She walked in and never even had a chance to scream.  This Marik had a sleep spell on her immediately, and soon a magical sword appeared out of nowhere, hovering over her neck.  A True Mage is a fearsome thing, son.  He never took his eyes off me.  His Master, meanwhile, never lifted a finger.  Didn’t say a word.  He just stood there, with his brown eyes fixed on
you.
  Then Marik spoke.  ‘My Master requires your son and he shall have him.  Do this, and he will let you and your wife live.’  I was powerless—holding you I could hardly cast any spells that required any components.  Not that I knew any real offensive spells anyhow.  I knew how to animate objects.  I tried tipping his chair back, and he stood up and laughed at me as the chair harmlessly fell over.  ‘I’ll forget your insolence and pathetic spellcraft.  The boy—hand over your son now.  The blade begins to sink in…’  He pointed to Jaz, and a line of blood had formed and was running down her neck where the sword began to cut into her throat.  ‘We will kill her, then kill you, and walk out of here with you son regardless.  The only choice you have is whether you and your wife live…or die tonight.’  Son—I did the only thing I could think of doing.”

“You chose your wife over me.”  Magi said it like a statement, devoid of emotion.

Tomas closed his sightless eyes.  “I did—I loved you both, son.  It was an impossible choice, but I couldn’t get you back if we were dead!  However I did the one thing for you that I thought would help protect you until I could get you back.  I slipped a ring on your finger while they were looking at me, and I cast a simple, silent spell upon it that it should stay concealed forever, or at least until you were strong enough to detect its presence and figure out for yourself the gift I had given you, if in fact you had a magical gift.  You were crying, of course, what with me screaming at them and the tension in the air.  They were fixed on your screams, and while they talked I made the incantation silently and focused the spell on the ring.  Slipping it on your finger was as easy as grabbing your tiny little arm and holding it behind your back while they continued to threaten Jaz and me.  It took but a moment.  I am so sorry, Magi, for all that, and for the childhood you must have had.  It was all I could think of doing in the heat of the moment.

“I suspect you discovered the ring a few years later, yes?  My strength sustained the illusion of the ring’s concealment.  A baby that wore a ring would
attract attention.  You would take it off yourself, put it in your mouth, bury it in the dirt—whatever.  No, it needed to be more than just invisible.  It needed to be concealed so you wouldn’t even feel it.  The ring itself would size itself to the finger wearing it—I added that little bit of magic to the ring myself; I never worried about it slipping off.  I worried about someone taking it.”

He paused and sighed.  “The circumstances of my life were such that my own magical strength waned a few years later, so it would have materialized when you were four or five, I’m sure.   When my magical strength gave out, the spell hiding the ring from you should have given out as well.”

Magi nodded out of habit, though Tomas couldn’t see him.  He then said, “I never remember a moment of my life, going back to my childhood, when it wasn’t on my finger…until recently.”

“What do you mean, ‘until recently’?  Don’t you have it?”  Tomas asked, his voice rising.

“I lost it,” Magi said.  “It was stolen from me, not long ago.”

Tomas
moaned softly.  “Magi, my son.  That was my hope for you.  That such a ring might keep you safe.  I’ve failed again.”  His jawline started quivering.

Magi
just sat back down.  Hearing him sit, Tomas did the same, still shaking.  Magi tried to warm himself a bit next to the fire, as he finally said, “Keep me safe…what did the ring do, old man?”

Incredulously, the man wiped his eyes and said, “You don’t know?  Magi, I gave you a Ring of Magical Protection.  As long as you wore that ring, no spell could harm you or curse you.  You might fall in a ditch and get robbed, but you would be safe from whatever rites he and his wicked Master had in store for you.  It contained a magic far beyond my abilities to weave, but I have studied this art for many years, and I knew how rare such an object
is.”

A ring of magical protection! 
He thought of all the duels he fought at Marik’s school…how everyone carefully removed their jewelry before the contest started. 
Same with the Tournament, when Ragor cheated.  I wasn’t wearing the ring. 
Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall
ever
being cursed, even by his buddies as a practical joke.  Everyone always assumed he was just special, powerful—
top of the class.  Am I truly that strong, or was the ring keeping me from harm?

Magi couldn’t help scowling at that thought.  He had lots of questions.  “Where did you find this ring in the first place?  Why didn’t you keep it and use it to keep Marik from taking me away?  How come Marik never stole it from me if it was so powerful?”  He was suddenly extremely annoyed that it was gone, moreso than when he thought it was just an heirloom.  He shot the questions out the way Ragor had drilled his missiles into Tarsh.

His father seemed taken aback by the rapid-fire questioning.  “So many questions, Magi.  Let me tell you the story of the ring first.”  He inched closer to the fire, the magical blue flames reflecting off his milky eyes.

Magi yawned, as the hour was quite late, but he would not let the information wait until morning. “Please do.  I want to hear it all, old man.”

~Veronica~

“They’re just finishin’ the potatoes, Miss Sarah.  The General will agree to see you at his table once they’ve eaten.”  Silas gave Veronica a curt nod, and another to Lord Daniel and Lady Fran before scurrying away to serve other customers.

This is my best chance.
  “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Daniel, Lady Fran—I would like to take a moment before I have an opportunity to meet the General.  Thank you for the meal this evening.  You have been most gracious and kind to a traveler in your wonderful city.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Sarah.  I thought your sights might be a bit too lofty, but I mean no offense.  Stranger things have happened in stranger taverns than this.  Good luck, my dear!”

Lord Daniel stood up and bowed, much to the displeasure of his wife Fran.  She just looked at Veronica coolly and nodded politely.  “Be well, Miss Sarah.”

Veronica bowed her head to them, then turned and headed toward the stairs leading up to her room.  She quickly changed clothes, putting her wealthier garb to one side and donning a common dress that the serving wenches wore.  She looked out into night from her 2
nd
floor window and saw no one; not even the beggars were out in the cold.  The waste ditch behind the tavern was currently unoccupied as well.  Veronica effortlessly lowered herself from a thin rope down the back side of the tavern and casually walked through the stables into the kitchen through the back door, careful to be unobserved.  She grabbed a large plate, looking to blend in with the other servers.

Won’t have time to try and get too precise with this.
  She saw one of the other girls and asked, “Are the potatoes done?  They’re clamoring for potatoes out there like they’ve not eaten in days.  Where are they?”

The woman had a stained dress that was pulled way too tightly around her.  It was freezing outside, but she was perspiring in the kitchen, and had a tray full of ale mugs on her shoulder.  “They’re comin’ up now!  Ask ’em whether they want them done or should we feed ’em the damn roots uncooked!”  She stormed off to deliver her tray of mugs.

The kitchen had nine or ten women buzzing around, and a few men that looked greasy and hard.  She caught a glimpse of Silas at a distance hustling back and forth; no doubt he would be serving the potatoes himself to Strongiron’s table, she figured.

Looking around to see if anyone was staring at her, she walked over to the immense cauldron of steaming potatoes, sizzling in bacon fat, butter, fresh herbs, onions, garlic, and other peppery spices that Veronica couldn’t quite place.  Even though she just ate, her mouth started watering.

Ignoring her own appetite, and with one final look around the kitchen, she tipped a small vial into the batch quicker than she could have slashed a throat.  She gave it a stir and smell.  “Another good batch,” she said, turning to leave.