The Mage of Trelian (25 page)

“Good,” Serek said. “Now, everyone go away. I need to figure some things out. We’ll meet back here this evening. Mage Raulyn, please draft letters to the Magistratum explaining our intentions and bring them with you later on. And the rest of you, spend some time thinking of anyone else you know who might now be willing to join us. I want everyone to have a list of at least three names when you return this evening.”

They filed out, talking excitedly to one another, clearly energized by Serek’s decision. Any uncertainty they had about Calen was evidently eclipsed by their relief that Serek had finally agreed to lead them. It was . . . impressive. Serek was usually so strongly opposed to getting involved in Magistratum “nonsense,” as he called it, that Calen would never have imagined getting to see him address a room full of mages like that and watch them fall in line.

Maybe there was a little bit of hope for the good mages after all.

Soon only Serek, Anders, and Calen were left. Anders closed the door, then came over to sit beside Calen.

“Looks like you ended up in charge despite your best efforts,” Anders said. “About time, really.”

Serek eyed him sardonically across the table. “Apparently so.”

“Thanks for standing up for me,” Calen said.

Serek looked at him. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I do trust you, Calen. I’m — I’m sorry for not being more clear about that earlier. Perhaps if I had . . .”

Calen shook his head. “I think — I think I had to go. I think that was what was supposed to happen. If we’re able to defeat Mage Krelig, I think it will be because of what I learned while I was there.”

“Well,” Serek said, “I suppose that’s possible. Although I still wish . . .”

“Yeah,” Calen said. “Me, too.”

They were all quiet for a minute.

“All right, then!” Anders said brightly. “What do we do now, fearless leader?”

Serek barked a short, humorless laugh. Then he put his head in his hands. “I have no idea.”

M
EG WOKE UP FEELING . . . HAPPY.

It took her a while to figure it out. It had been quite some time since she’d felt happy, she realized. She’d felt relief, and a kind of fierce joy when she’d learned that they’d won the battle at Kragnir, and gratitude that she hadn’t been killed . . . but not happy. Not really. Not until now.

Because now Calen was back. There was still a lot wrong — the ongoing war, for example, and let’s not forget Mage Krelig — but she was happy anyway. It was easier to believe that things could turn out all right now that Calen was back with her again.

Pela had explained to the physicians that Meg had been magically healed, but they still insisted on coming in to examine her for themselves. They seemed almost sorry to see that it was true. Meg had been a little uneasy about Calen’s casual reversal of all of her injuries, especially after Serek had said it would be better for her to heal on her own. But she couldn’t deny that she felt wonderful. And if Calen was much stronger and more confident than he was before, well, he deserved it. After what he’d been through, he deserved to get
something
good out of it, didn’t he? And besides, they needed him as strong as possible to fight against Mage Krelig when the time came. It was just . . . an adjustment, that’s all. She would adjust.

Jakl could tell she was feeling better, of course, but she still went out to see him as soon as she was dressed. She didn’t know if he understood what had happened. He didn’t seem to care very much about how or why she was better, though. He was just glad she was.

They celebrated by going flying. Just for a little while — now that she
was
better, she should return to her responsibilities. And they couldn’t go far, and couldn’t fly too low, because there could always be more Lourin soldiers with catapults, and Meg didn’t ever want to experience being set on fire again. But she let Jakl take her high above the clouds, where they would be safe, and for a while there was only the two of them, and everything was speed and light and being together and being happy and being free.

As they flew back down toward the castle again, later, Meg looked out at the lands surrounding them. She could see camps of enemy soldiers among the ruins of what had been her people’s homes and farms and properties. The Kragnir soldiers should be arriving soon, and she hoped that they tore apart every enemy camp they encountered on the way. She hoped that they burned the enemy camps to the ground and that all the enemy soldiers died screaming. She was done feeling any sort of empathy for them.

Pela was waiting for her when they got back.

“Your parents want to see you,” she said once Meg had returned to the ground and given Jakl a final affectionate stroke on the nose.

“I suspect they do,” Meg said. She supposed she should have gone to see them when she first got up, but all she had been able to think about was getting some time alone with her dragon.

“Do you think Apprentice Calen is truly all right?” Pela asked as they went back to Meg’s rooms so she could clean up and change her clothes. “He seemed so distraught when I left last night.”

“He’s been through something terrible,” Meg said, “but I do think he’s all right. Or at least, he’s going to be. It will probably just take him some time. But he’s definitely better than he seemed at first. That was . . . fairly frightening, I’ll admit.”

“Yes,” Pela agreed. “But I’m certain you’re right, Princess. He’ll be back to his old self given a little time.”

Meg didn’t say anything to that. She wasn’t at all certain he’d ever be back to his old self. But that wasn’t the same thing as not ever being all right. You could be different and still be okay. Sometimes you could be different and be even better than you were before.

Sometimes you hardly missed your old self at all.

Her parents were waiting for her in the small conference room they often used for informal meetings. They’d been apprised of her magical healing, but they still seemed amazed to see her so fully recovered.

“Thank you, Pela,” her mother said, and Pela curtsied and left, closing the door behind her. Meg sat in one of the soft chairs opposite her parents.

“I still can’t believe it,” her father said. “It’s like you were never injured at all.”

It was true. The burn scar was still there, but that was the only evidence that remained. Meg found that she was oddly glad about the scar; somehow it would have seemed wrong for all traces of what she’d been through to have vanished.

“Do you really feel all right, Meg?” her mother asked.

“I do. It’s a bit draining, being healed that way, but not nearly as draining as being injured. And I had a good night’s sleep.”

“Good,” her father said. “There’s something we’d like to discuss with you. We’d been planning to wait until you were better, but . . . well, since you
are
better . . .”

Meg looked back and forth between them, trying to read their faces. Their expressions didn’t give very much away, though. She thought that she would be able to tell if something was wrong, but they didn’t exactly look like they were about to tell her good news, either.

“Captain Varyn came to talk to us yesterday,” the king went on. “He asked whether we could allow you to give up your other responsibilities for the duration of the war and allow you to fight with the soldiers as your primary duty.”

“Of course,” Meg said at once. That only made sense. If they didn’t win the war, there wouldn’t be a kingdom for her to be princess-heir of.

“You — you can take some time to think about it,” her mother said.

“I don’t need to think about it,” Meg said. “I’m only surprised none of us thought of this sooner. Of course I should be dedicating all of my energy to helping win the war. Nothing is more important than that, after all.”

“Well, no,” her father agreed. “But . . .”

Meg looked at them. “Did you expect me to refuse?”

“No,” her mother said. “But perhaps we expected you to be less . . . eager. Especially after what happened.”

Meg shook her head. “I’m fine now. And my place is with the soldiers, fighting to protect our kingdom. I can’t shy away from that just because I got hurt.” She would just be very, very sure to avoid flaming catapult missiles from now on. Jakl sent his emphatic agreement through the link.

Her parents didn’t say anything, and Meg wasn’t sure what else they wanted to hear. She tried not to show her growing impatience and exasperation, but she apparently did not do a very good job.

“You can’t expect us to be happy or nonchalant about this!” her mother exclaimed at last. “Honestly, Meg, I think we’ve done a rather tremendous job of coming to terms with this whole dragon situation, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. This is all entirely new territory for us.”

Meg blinked, a little taken aback by her mother’s directness. “Well — it’s new for me, too!” she said. “But luckily the logical course of action is very clear. This is not a difficult decision. Yes, fighting puts me in danger. But we were attacked right here inside our own walls! If we don’t win this war, we’ll all be in danger, all the time. I’m in a unique position to really help the war effort. It would be . . . dishonorable of me to do anything else. Or for you to try to talk me out of it.”

Her mother sighed. “You’re right, of course. But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

“No,” Meg allowed. Then she grinned. “But at least you won’t have to worry what I’m up to all the time. Captain Varyn will keep me in line.”

Her father gave a short, surprised laugh. Then he looked at her and his smile faded, but he seemed less conflicted now. “I’m certain he will,” he said. “He thought one more day of rest was a good idea, but asked to have you report for duty tomorrow morning.”

Meg realized that she was still happy. Or happy again, perhaps. This felt right. She hated sitting around. She wanted to do things, to help, to get this war won as soon as possible. And she knew that she and Jakl could make a big difference.

But she supposed the additional day of rest was wise. She might not get another opportunity for rest for quite some time. She decided to go to the gardens, to sit and think and look at the trees and just enjoy their lovely green and growing company.

She ran into Calen, Serek, and Anders in the stairway.

“Where are you three off to?” She was still smiling. Calen was back!

“Prisoner interrogation,” Calen said as she fell into step beside them.

“Prisoner . . .” She stared at him. “You mean the Lourin soldiers who attacked? But . . . why haven’t they been questioned already?”

“They have been,” Serek said over his shoulder. “Repeatedly. First by the guards, then by Anders and myself at your parents’ request. And then by several of the other mages who are here.”

“And none of you could find out anything?”

“We found out that something is preventing them from being as forthcoming as we would like,” Serek said grimly.

“Or someone,” Anders put in.

“Or someone,” Serek agreed. “We thought perhaps the mages from our opponents’ kingdoms worked together to cast something particularly hard to decode, but . . .”

“But as far as anyone knows, Lourin’s mage never resurfaced after Sen Eva implanted herself as King Gerald’s advisor before all of this started,” Anders continued. “And Mage Xanda, who is here with us now, was an apprentice with Mage Bentler, who is the current mage of Farrell-Grast, and s
he
says that Bentler was a
terrible
apprentice and could never have managed anything this subtle.” He chuckled. “She told us about this one time that he —”

“And so,” Serek said, cutting off whatever further mage gossip Anders had been planning to share, “we are bringing Calen to see if there’s anything he can see that we could not.”

Meg glanced at Calen, expecting him to look proud at Serek’s admission that he might be able to do something better than his master. He did look proud, sort of, but also . . . something else. He noticed her looking, but his gaze skipped back away from hers almost at once.

“Can I come?” Meg asked.

“I don’t —” Serek began, while at the same time Calen and Anders said, “Sure.”

Serek looked at Anders.

“You know she’s going to come no matter what we say,” Anders told him. “Why fight it?”

Serek sighed but didn’t argue.

This time Calen met her eye and grinned at her. Maybe he’d just been embarrassed by Serek’s earlier comment. Serek’s praise had always been so rare; it was probably hard for Calen to get used to hearing it.

“I thought mages weren’t supposed to directly take part in wars except in defense,” Meg said.

“They’re not,” Serek said. “If the mages from Farrell-Grast and Baustern did help with Lourin’s attack, they did so in complete violation of the rules of our order.”

“Which won’t matter,” Anders put in, “if Krelig wins, since he doesn’t like the rules anyway.” At Serek’s glare, Anders added, “But, uh, of course
we
are going to win, and those mages are going to be in big trouble if it turns out they had anything to do with Lourin’s soldiers getting inside Trelian’s walls. Or with spelling the soldiers not to talk.
Big
trouble. Huge. No question.”