Magic's Promise (26 page)

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Authors: Mercedes Lackey

Tags: #Fantasy, #Epic, #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy - General, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Magic, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Fantasy fiction

BOOK: Magic's Promise
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I'd heard about the Gift,

Vanyel said, looking back at the boy to see if he'd overheard them. They were only twenty paces away, and Lores was making no effort to keep his voice down. Tashir was still sitting where they'd left him, head and hands dangling between his knees.

How did the boy take being disinherited?


The boy?

For a moment Lores seemed puzzled.

That was the odd part; boy seemed relieved. It was Vedric Mavelan that made all the fuss. But tonight - something happened at dinner, and I'm not sure exactly what.

Lores wrapped his arms around his chest, and his expression turned introspective, and a little fearful.


Were you there?

Vanyel asked.

Lores nodded.

Always, as the Valdemar envoy. Tonight...

He looked into the distance, frowning.

I remember I was chatting with Deveran's armsmaster and the boy came up to the high table to say something to Deveran. Next thing I knew, they're at it hammer and tongs, screaming at each other, the boy going white and Deveran going red. Then Deveran backhanded the boy, knocked him to the floor.''

Vanyel chewed his lip.

Was that unusual?

Lores shrugged.

Well, it had never happened in public before. Deveran asked us all to leave in the kind of voice that makes an order out of a request. We left - don't look at me like that, what else could we do?


I don't know,

Vanyel replied soberly.

I wasn't there. But I don't think I would have left a situation that volatile.


Well
I
left; it's not Valdemar and it wasn't my business. I went out to the stable and Jenna, was outside with her for a while.

He shook his head.

They'd moved the fight up to Deveran's study, toward the back of the palace; I could hear 'em both shouting at each other through the window. Then it got real quiet for a bit - and then all hell broke loose.

He gestured at the wreckage in the Great Hall, and his expression became strained.

You can figure what
that
sounded like; enough screaming for a war. Nobody wanted to break in on that, and anyway we found out that the doors were all like they were welded shut.

His voice was casual, but he was trembling and sweating, and his skin was dead white.


It didn't last long. Then it was quiet again, sudden, like everything had been cut off. Me, the outside servants, and Deveran's armsmen from the palace, and the town guard and a couple of the town council with some courage in them, we all broke the doors open.


And you found?

“That's
what we found. The boy knocked out under that bench, and when we went to look for bodies - gods. Everyone inside these walls... was dead. The boy's sibs, the servants, everybody. Torn to pieces, just like . . . that stuff.
Nothing
bigger than palm-sized pieces of everybody else.

He was shaking now, his teeth chattering, and his pupils dilated.
“Nothing,“
he repeated.


You're not saying
Tashir
did all that?

Vanyel said incredulously.

That's impossible - it's insane!

The mage-light flared a little, setting shadows shrinking and growing again, flickering as he whirled to look at the boy, and his attention wavered.

Lores turned away from the wreckage, clutching his arms against his chest, and gradually stopped trembling. His eyes fell on Tashir again; just the sight of the boy seemed to reawaken his anger.

What's insane about it?

he demanded.

Fetching can wreck, or even kill. I should know that better than
you,
it's
my
Gift.


It's one of my Gifts, too, you damned fool!

Vanyel growled.

And at one point I
almost
got out of control, but my Gift was blasted open and I was in pain enough to drive a strong man mad. Nothing like that happened here! This boy
never
showed a hint of anything on
this
scale! And he was
untrained?
Not bloody likely!


How do we know he was untrained?

Lores demanded, his eyes reflecting blue glints from the mage - light over Vanyel's head.

He was the
only
one left alive! He
had
to have done it!''

Vanyel had a dozen retorts on the tip of his tongue, but none of them seemed wise.

So how did you come to be such an expert on Gifts and magic, you idiot? And did you search to find someone who might have hidden himself - or herself - until you 'd found and dealt with Tashir? Or did you identify everyone, or at least count all the bodies and come up with the same number as those known to be in the palace ?

He kept his teeth shut on all those questions. It was obvious that this had been bungled from the start, and dressing down this fool wasn't going to undo the bungling.


We couldn't really believe it, not at first,

Lores admitted reluctantly.

We thought it must have been - oh, something out of the Pelagir wilderlands, or even something cooked up by the Mavelans. We really didn't know what it could have been, especially not the Lineans, but there wasn't anyone or anything else, and when we tried to question Tashir, the boy wouldn't answer. At first he was - dazed-like. Then he just refused to speak except to say he didn't remember.

Lores shook his head.

Not
remember?
How could he not remember something that did
that?
Unless he was lying, or he'd done it in anger and had blanked it out of his mind.

Lores clasped his folded arms still tighter against his chest, as if he was trying to protect himself.

What could we do? The guards were spooked, nobody wanted something like
that
on their hands. In the end, we just threw him in the guardhouse at the front gate there, since the townsfolk didn't want him in
their
jail and nobody wanted to have to go down to the cells under the palace. We sent off a messenger for Vedric, since he was the one making all the fuss about the boy in the first place. He may be a Mavelan, but he's not going to be able to talk the boy out of
this
mess. He'll have to deal with him, and he
is
a mage. We reckoned it was better for one mage to deal with another.
Especially
a murderer.


That's not proved.

Lores glared at him. Vanyel repeated his words stubbornly.

That's
not
proved.
Nothing
is proved. And furthermore, I'd like to know how the hell a
Herald
could come to attack a Companion.

Lores began pacing, four steps away from Vanyel, four steps back.

We shoved him in there, picked up the bodies - what was left of them. Things quieted down. Then, less than a candlemark ago, that
demon
showed up.

“Companion.''

Lores wheeled to glare again, but the look in Vanyel's eyes cowed him.

That
Companion
showed up; he began breaking down the door. The guard got me, I sent for reinforcements -
I
thought it was a demon - more men showed up about the time the de- Companion got the door smashed in and started to run off with the boy. That whip was in the guardhouse and I grabbed it - figuring demon or not, it was horse-shaped.

He shrugged.

You know the rest.


Didn't you even try the boy under Truth Spell?

Vanyel snarled, out of patience with the lack of
thought,
the complete bullheaded stupidity of the man.

Lores looked baffled.

'Truth Spell'? Why? What's that got to do with me?


Goddess Incarnate!
Any
Herald can work first-stage Truth Spell! Didn't your mentor ever -

Vanyel paused at the dumbfounded look on Lores' face.

Your mentor never told you?

Lores shook his head.

“Gods,”
Vanyel strode over to the adolescent, who was still slumped over his own knees.

Tashir?

he said, gently, kneeling beside him. He braced himself when the young man looked up, it still made his heart lurch to see those eyes, that face - and that dazed, lost, and pleading expression.

Tashir, do you remember anything that happened tonight? Anything at all?''

Tashir's eyes were still not focusing well; he shook his head dumbly.

Vanyel shook him gently.

Think. Dinner. Do you remember your father calling you up at dinner?


I...

The boy's voice was quite low, almost a match for Vanyel's baritone.

I think so. Yes. He ... wanted me to go somewhere.


Where, Tashir?

Vanyel prompted.


I ... don't remember.


Do you remember arguing with him?

A hesitant nod. There were shadows under Tashir's eyes that had nothing to do with the way the light was falling on him.

I didn't want to go. He wanted to send me somewhere. I don't remember where, I just remember that I didn't want to go. I told him I wouldn't. He hit me.


Did he hit you very often?

The eyes cleared for a moment, bright with fear.

Often enough,

the boy confessed cautiously.

When I was around too much. I tried not to get in his way. Sometimes he'd get mad about something, and take it out on me. But not in front of people, not before tonight.

“So he hit you. Then he sent everyone else away. What then?


He . . . came around the table. He grabbed me before I could get away, twisted my arm up behind my back, and made me go with him to his study. And ...

The eyes clouded again.


And?


I don't remember!

Tashir wailed softly.

Please, I
don't remember!”

Vanyel set in motion the spell that called the
vrondi,
the mindless air elemental that could not abide the emotional emanations associated with falsehood. In
his
hands, because he could give it energy beyond its own, the
vrondi
would be able to settle within the youngster's mind: he would be incapable of lying so long as it was there. Vanyel watched the
vrondi
settle into place, a glowing blue mist like a visible aura about Tashir's head and shoulders.
He
would not see it, but Vanyel and Lores certainly could. He glanced over at Lores, and saw the older man's lips compress, his face grow speculative.


Are you sure, Tashir?

he urged.

Think. Your father took you up to his study; what happened in the study?

'I
don't remember!”
Tashir whimpered.

I
don't!”

Vanyel sighed, and dismissed the
vrondi
with a word. The mist dissolved, faded away, but slowly, not all at once as it would have if it had met with a lie. There was only one other thing he could try. He reached out tentatively with a Mindtouch.

Tashir should not have been able to detect it. But suddenly he jerked away, his eyes wild and unreasoning, and a shield snapped up so quickly Vanyel barely had time to pull back his Touch.

“Look out!”
Lores cried, diving for die floor, as half a vase rose from the wreckage, flung itself across the room and smashed against the door. More fragments followed it, all rising from the wreckage to smash against the door, creating a rain of flying shards that pelted them both like fine hail.

Vanyel didn't move so much as a hair. He clenched his jaw, and reached out with his own power to damp Tashir's Gift with an external shield.

Sudden silence.


Tashir,

he reached out for the youngster, with his hand this time, not his mind.

Tashir, I want to help you. I
believe
you. I
will not
allow anyone to harm you, or to imprison you for something you didn't do.

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