The Last Enchanter (15 page)

“In town at the Seafarer.”

“Good. Good. I have business to attend to tomorrow afternoon. We shall visit you then. It warms my heart to see you.” Then addressing the room, Zyll added, “Goodnight to you all.”

“Goodnight, Father, Marcus,” said Jayson.

Marcus gave Jayson a quick embrace. “We'll see you tomorrow,” he said, addressing his father and Kelvin both.

Kelvin replied with an abrupt but gracious “Yes, goodnight.”

Marcus led Zyll down the hall. He was not entirely happy to have left the dining room just then. He wanted to hear more of the discussion between Kelvin and Jayson. As though sensing his thoughts Zyll said, “Some conversations are not meant to be overheard.”

They walked slowly toward their rooms. Marcus noticed how frail Zyll's hand looked, pale and creased with age. He knew that Zyll's actual age was far younger than he looked, but years of conjuring magic spells had taken their toll and left Zyll ever more feeble. Marcus would never do anything to upset him, but he could not keep silent any longer.

“Grandfather,” he asked, careful not to sound angry, “why haven't you told Kelvin how Fredric died?”

Zyll took a few moments before answering. “I'm not entirely sure,” he said. “I suppose I've been waiting for the right time.”

“The right time?” replied Marcus with surprise. “Don't you think he ought to know he's in danger? You heard about the attacks in the Fortress and on the ships. What if the Agoran rebels—”

“Fredric was not killed by an Agoran.”

This revelation angered Marcus. His grandfather must have seen in his divining bowl who killed Fredric. Why keep it hidden?

“Another secret,” said Marcus.

Zyll looked at his grandson, his eyebrows arched in an amused expression. “
Another
secret?” he asked.

“Yes,” answered Marcus. “You collect secrets the way you collect all those trinkets in your chest back home. Like how you gave me the key, letting me believe it had some special power. Or never telling me about my father, or who my mother was.”

If Marcus's comment surprised Zyll, he did not show it. Marcus went on, fueled by Zyll's silence.

“I know there are many things you haven't told me, things I ought to know. You think I'm too young or too vulnerable, but I'm not, Grandfather. And neither is Kelvin.”

They reached their rooms and paused at Zyll's door. Zyll stood without speaking for a few moments, lost in thought.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said at last. “You are no longer that little boy in need of protection. I do have much to tell you, but the hour is late, and I am weary.”

Marcus felt a little guilty for losing his temper with his grandfather. In all his life, Zyll had never been angry with him. Marcus lowered his eyes, feeling ashamed.

“I just think we should tell Kelvin the truth about Fredric, that's all,” he said.

Zyll nodded thoughtfully. “Do what you feel is best, my boy.”

Hearing their voices through the door, Xerxes squawked angrily. “It's about time, old man! Leave me
alone for hours with only this rude nightstand to talk to! What dreadful company!”

“I think Xerxes is a little upset,” said Zyll, his eyebrows raised. “Perhaps he's afraid I might die and leave him without suitable companionship.”

“Don't say such a thing!” said Marcus. The image of Zyll in the vision came flooding back.

“Well, I have to die sometime. And when I do, who will look after him?”

“You know I'd take Xerxes. Though I'm not so sure he'd want me to.”

“Perhaps,” replied Zyll, laughing. “You might like to know that Xerxes will not always be as he is now.”

“You mean a critical, snobbish sliver of wood?”

“Precisely.”

“Precisely what?” asked Marcus.

“Well,” said Zyll, lowering his voice, “he will probably always be critical and snobbish, but on my death he'll be transformed from wood to flesh.”

“Transformed?” Marcus repeated. “Is that possible?”

Zyll chuckled. “I don't know. It's never actually been done. I created Xerxes when I started growing old and needed both a friend and a support. But as the years went on I thought it would be cruel if he should die when I did. Wood and flesh are both living substances. It didn't seem too much a stretch to transform one into the other.”

“But I thought manipulating organics is—you know—dangerous.”

“Of course I couldn't manage it without doing myself
in,” Zyll replied. “So the transformation will have to wait until I'm already dead, using whatever life force may still linger.”

Marcus tried to imagine Xerxes as a real bird but couldn't conjure the picture in his mind.

Zyll laughed again and tousled Marcus's hair. “Never mind,” he said. “It isn't anything to worry about now. Go to bed. We'll leave after breakfast. I'm sure your friends will be anxious to hear all your news.” He turned the door handle to enter his room, but there was one more thing Marcus had to know.

“Wait, Grandfather,” said Marcus, his courage almost leaving him. “A few nights ago, I saw you give something to a Hestorian, one with markings on his face.”

Zyll's body stiffened. Marcus could see his knuckles turn white as he clutched the door handle. But Marcus continued.

“Who is he? What were you doing?”

Zyll's expression turned hard, though not angry. Marcus had never seen that look in Zyll's eyes before. It frightened him.

“That is one secret I pray to the gods you will never need to know,” said Zyll. And with that, Zyll slipped into his room and closed the door behind him.

Forty-two

M
arcus waited until he heard Zyll turn the lock in his door before heading back down the corridor. Zyll had told him to do what he thought was best, and that's exactly what he would do.

He passed several armed sentries, one at every door, as he made his way through the lower level of the Fortress. Kelvin was determined not to let the Agoran rebels get inside again. Maybe Marcus shouldn't worry about his brother. With all these guards around, Kelvin was far safer than Fredric must have been. Still, he deserved to know how their grandfather died. Secrets had nearly destroyed Marcus and Kelvin's relationship during their quest eight months ago. There would be no secrets between them ever again.

Marcus didn't want to go back to the dining room. Kelvin and Jayson were probably still arguing over dinner, and what Marcus had to say was private, anyway. He would go instead to Kelvin's council chambers and wait for him there.

Other than the sentries, the interior of the Fortress was quiet. Most of the servants had already retired to their rooms for the night. Marcus hurried across the vast entry hall toward the east alcove where the offices were located. He had made it halfway when he suddenly had the feeling that he was not alone. He turned and looked behind him, but there was no one besides the guard standing at the Fortress's main door. The light from several oil lamps left the corners of the room hidden in darkness. Someone could easily conceal himself in one.

This is silly, Marcus thought. I'm letting my mind play tricks on me. Still, he walked the rest of the way as fast as he could without actually running.

The door to Kelvin's council chambers stood just inside a narrow alcove. To Marcus's surprise, the sconces on the wall were not lit. The alcove was dark except for a weak glow from the lanterns in the great hall. He had expected to find a guard here, too, but the alcove was empty—or was it?

Near the door to Kelvin's chambers, Marcus saw a large, dark clump of something on the floor. He approached cautiously and touched it with his foot. An arm fell forward, hitting the floor with a dull thump. Marcus stepped back, his breath quickening. The dark clump was a sentry.
In the dim light, Marcus couldn't tell whether he was unconscious or dead.

Behind him, Marcus heard the sound of footsteps, which stopped abruptly.

“Hello?” Marcus called out, hoping it was one of the other guards. “There's a man here,” he said. “I think he's hurt!”

When no one replied, Marcus realized once again his imagination was running away with him. But he did need to find help for the sentry. He was about to leave when he heard a new sound coming from inside the chamber: an unmistakable rattle as if something had fallen and rolled across the floor.

Marcus stepped over the guard's body and took hold of the door handle. Slowly he turned it, pushing open the door just an inch. Candlelight spilled through the narrow crack and into the alcove. Marcus saw now that the sentry's eyes were open, staring dully up at nothing. He was most certainly dead. And Marcus suspected that whoever was inside the room had done it.

Pushing the door open a little farther, Marcus stepped inside. Large tapestries hung from floor to ceiling against the walls. Three stories above, the stained-glass ceiling looked like a patchwork of black and gray. Charred remains of a log stood cold in the fireplace, though six candles burned in an ornate candelabrum beside Kelvin's desk. On the floor lay an ink bottle, dark liquid trailing from it like a tail. This must be what had made the noise. Marcus bent to pick it up. The glass bottle felt warm to the touch.

The air in the room was chill. So why would the bottle be so warm? Someone must have been holding it, Marcus thought, but who?

As he set the bottle back on the desk, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A tapestry fluttered ever so slightly. Marcus's heart raced. He reached for his knife but then remembered he had left it in his room, for he had thought he was just going to talk to Kelvin. What would he have needed it for? He reached for the tapestry with trembling fingers and jerked it aside, but the only thing behind it was a bare wall.

All of a sudden, something heavy hit him from behind. Sharp pain exploded across his shoulders, and Marcus's face smashed into the wall. He felt drops of hot blood trickle onto his lips. Licking them, he tasted copper, and he wondered whether the loud crack he'd heard had been his back breaking or something else. He turned and saw Kelvin's chair in pieces behind him on the floor. Someone had thrown it at him! He had only a second to think before something else came flying at him, but this time it was a man.

The man yelled. Marcus caught the glint of a blade in his hand just before it came down on him. Marcus twisted away just in time, the blade grating instead against the stone wall. But the man did not stop. He sliced his dagger wildly in every direction. Marcus jumped and slid his way across the room, doing his best to avoid the attacks. The man was slender, almost frail looking, yet was surprisingly fast and strong. He lunged at Marcus, not with the
dagger, but with a set of bloodstained claws extended for the kill. It wasn't a man at all, Marcus realized. It was an Agoran.

Marcus grabbed the candelabrum. As he swung it in an arc, the candles flew off. Two went out as they hit the floor, but the other four still burned, casting long, unnatural shadows onto the tapestries. One lit the corner of a tapestry on fire, the flames soon licking the woven patterns like a hungry snake. The candelabrum hit the attacker with a force that would have knocked most men to their knees, but this one didn't even flinch. When the Agoran took hold of it, Marcus expected him to yank it out of his hands. Instead he thrust it forward, pushing Marcus off balance. Marcus fell onto his back, sending a fresh tremor of pain through him.

A second later, the attacker was on top of Marcus, holding the point of a blade to his throat. Damp tendrils of long, shaggy hair clung to his face. His pupils, narrow like a cat's, peered at Marcus, recognition slowly dawning. The Agoran and Marcus stared at each other, both remembering the day months earlier when they had first met.

Just then the door to the chamber flew open. A guard rushed in, his sword raised. Behind him came Kelvin and Jayson. The Agoran leapt off Marcus and crossed the room in half a breath's time. The guard ran after him, but the Agoran tore the burning tapestry free from the wall and flung it at him. The guard screamed in pain as fire engulfed his uniform. The tapestry dropped to the floor, the flames trapping the Agoran at the back of the room. Marcus
managed to roll clear of it, though he felt his skin blistering with the heat and smelled the guard's scorched flesh.

Jayson ripped the burning fabric from the guard's body as Kelvin picked up his fallen sword. Kelvin slashed at the tapestry, trying to make a path through the fire. As he broke through, Marcus looked up to see what would happen next, but to his and everyone's surprise, the Agoran was gone.

Forty-three

W
hat do you think you were doing?” shouted Kelvin, turning on Marcus. “There's a dead man in the hall, and my private chambers are in ruin!”

Marcus swallowed hard. He looked to Jayson for help, but he was busy tending to the injured guard.

“I came here looking for you. The guard was already dead when I got here.”

“I could have guessed that much,” said Kelvin. He lifted the blackened remains of the tapestry with the tip of his sword and flung it aside. Then he went to the back wall and brushed his hands over the paneling. “What I want to know is why you let that Agoran scum escape.”