The White Robe (34 page)

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, I wish to present Jonderill, magician of the white who has recently arrived from the Enclave of the goddess.”

Jonderill stepped up next to Callabris and bowed briefly to the Queen.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded the Queen. “I sent the palace guard to bring you to me, I didn’t expect you to waltz in here uninvited, pretending to be a magician; and you, white robe, you will address the King as Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty,” said Jonderill, continuing to ignore Pellum. “It was most kind of you to send an escort for me, but it was unnecessary. As you know, I’ve been to these rooms before, and in any case, I had Plantagenet and Animus to show me the way.”

“I didn’t send them to escort you, fool; I sent them to arrest you. I told you the last time we met, slave boy, never return to Vinmore again or I would execute you for a kidnapper and a murderer, and don’t think your fancy dress will save you from the headsman’s axe. Pellum! Call the guard!”

Callabris took an angry step forward. “Madam, you forget yourself and your obligations. Jonderill is a magician of the white, and as such you have a duty to show him respect and to provide him with suitable accommodation.”

“Him? A magician? You must be joking.” Pellum adjusted his position so he was sitting up more or less straight. “Everyone knows that he’s nothing more than an escaped kingsward from Leersland with a slave brand on his arm, unless, of course, he can show us some magic and prove to us he is a magician.” The Queen nodded in agreement and Jonderill looked anxiously at Callabris.

“Prince Consort. White robes are not required to perform party tricks to entertain their hosts, nor are they accountable for any shortcomings of their birth or misdemeanours from before they came into their powers.”

“Very convenient,” said the Queen sarcastically. “Very well he can stay, but as far as I’m concerned, he will always be a kidnapper and a felon, and the only accommodation I’m prepared to offer him is a windowless cell at the bottom of the keep. If I see his face again that’s where he will end up, whether he is a white robe or not.”

She gave them a wave of dismissal with the knife still in her hand expecting them to leave but instead the protector stepped forward to his master’s side and gave a brief bow. The Queen glared at him.

“Ah yes, I nearly forgot. My protector has a report he wishes to deliver to Prince Pellum. With your permission, Your Majesty?”

Allowyn didn’t wait for her consent. “Your Highness, I regret to report the recent death of your cousin, Master Gellidan, who made an attempt on this white robe’s life and was killed in fair combat by his protector. His body has been returned to your brother in Vorglave, as was his wish.”

Pellum leant forward angrily. “Where is the protector now? I’ll have his bloody balls for this.”

Allowyn bristled angrily but Callabris put a restraining hand on his arm. “The protector has sustained some wounds and is in my care and will remain so until he is fit to return to his duties.”

The Queen stabbed the small knife into the arm of the chair and glared at Callabris. “This is intolerable. Not only do you bring this criminal into my presence but you have the audacity to protect the killer of the King’s cousin. You have outstayed your welcome, white robe. You will leave the palace today and if I see your face again, you and Jonderill will share a cell, and the murderer you protect will be strung up by his heels and used for spear practice. Now get out before I call the guards!”

“As you wish, madam.” Callabris gave the briefest of bows and pulled a barely constrained Allowyn away. Jonderill gave an equally brief bow and followed them out of the receiving room with the two old magicians fretfully bringing up the rear.

“I’m sorry about your cousin, Pellum,” said the Queen when the door had been closed and they were alone. “Were you very close?”

Pellum gave a derisive laugh. “No, not at all. The boy was an idiot and a bore, always going on about the goddess and how he was going to be the next protector. It was only a matter of time before someone shut him up. I just wish it hadn’t been a magician’s lackey who did it. They are so full of themselves, especially that Callabris; he has no respect for his betters. You heard him; he didn’t call me your majesty once.”

“Magicians are all the same but it’s not that which galls me but the way those white robes come waltzing into my palace, making demands of me and ignoring my laws. I blame it on my father, he was too soft with them, but I won’t stand for it. I’ll find a way to humble them, especially that Jonderill.” Daun stood and paced the room with Pellum watching, once again slouched in his chair with one leg dangling over the side. “The problem is how do you take a white robe down when they can turn you into a green pond hopper with a flick of their fingers?”

Pellum laughed. “That’s easy, you cut their hands off.” Daun stopped pacing and stared at him in surprise. “Honestly, that’s how you kill a white robe. My father told me how the Rale of Sandstrone took the throne from his brother after he had killed his white magician. He did it by cutting his hands off. You see, for some reason they can’t hold a weapon or fight so they can’t protect themselves and once you’ve taken their hands away they can’t use their magic against you.”

“And what about their protector?”

Pellum shrugged. “Send enough men against them and even a protector will die.”

Daun shook her head and continued her pacing. “No, that would be too public; the people are superstitious and would be upset if we killed off one of their demi-gods. We need something more subtle.”

Pellum thought about it for a moment. “What we need is a magician of our own, not like the two geriatrics that totter around the palace, but a black one; they don’t have any qualms about killing.”

Daun stopped dead in her tracks, turned and marched up the dais to stand in front of her husband with her hands on her hips. “You dare to suggest having a black magician in my palace after what Maladran did to me! You’re a bloody idiot, Pellum.” She slapped him around the face and Pellum cringed back into his chair.

“It was only a suggestion,” he muttered, rubbing the red mark on his cheek. “We don’t actually have to own one, we could just borrow one. My brother keeps a black robe as a pet. I’m sure he would lend it to us if we asked, and then we could give it back as soon as it had done what we wanted.” Daun continued to glare at him but the tenseness started to leave her body and her eyes lose their dangerous look. “If nothing else you could have your revenge on Jonderill. Just think of him dying in a pool of his own blood.”

“Or better still dying slowly and in agony as a helpless cripple.” She smiled and sat back in her chair looking pleased with the thought. “Your idea has some merit but it does depend on your brother cooperating.”

“It does. Shall I write to him today?”

“Yes, but perhaps you should try to do something about Jonderill, just in case your brother is unhelpful and says no.”

“I would like that.”

Daun nodded in agreement and they smiled at each other.

*

“That didn’t go very well did it?” said Callabris as he took the only chair in the small bed chamber. It was the first words that had been spoken since they had left the audience room and returned to the magician’s small apartments.

“I’m sorry, Callabris. It’s my fault, I should never have returned to Alewinder.” Jonderill was sitting on the bottom of the bed in which a pale and bandaged Tissian lay propped up by several large pillows.

“Nonsense, it wasn’t your fault, my welcome here by Queen Daun and her consort has never been a warm one, so I’m not sorry to be leaving, although it is a bit inconvenient. I was hoping to spend some time with you exploring your gift, but the problem we have now is finding somewhere to do that in safety. We could go to Northshield, but I have no desire to return to King Borman’s court until he summons me, and I’m not welcome in Tarbis at the moment. So that only leaves Essenland or Leersland and I don’t think either of those places would be healthy for you.”

“That does restrict things somewhat,” laughed Jonderill.

“Master Callabris,” interrupted Plantagenet from his place on the other side of the bed. “I think Animus and I may have a solution, although I hesitate to suggest it as the accommodation is not as grand as the palaces in which you usually stay.”

“And the food won’t be so good either,” put in Animus from next to him.

“But it is comfortable and private and has plenty of space for your protector to do his devotions.”

“And it’s close enough to Alewinder to send you food supplies every seven day.”

Jonderill groaned and they all looked at him questioningly. “The woodsman’s cottage. After four years of hiding there I had hoped to never see the place again but you’re right, it’s ideal. There’s room for us all and nobody will find us there.” He looked at the floor in disappointment.

“And?” questioned Callabris.

“It’s just that I would have liked to have spent a little time in the city looking up old friends.”

“My Lord,” interrupted Dozo. “I don’t think Tissian should be moved again for a few days. His leg wound has opened up again and he needs rest and time to heal.”

“And I shouldn’t be separated from my white robe so soon after our binding.” added Tissian.

“And master, we really do need to spend some time alone together renewing our bond after being separated for so long,” put in Allowyn with a conspiratorial smile.

Callabris laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Enough! Enough. Jonderill, it looks like everyone thinks it’ll be a good idea for you to stay in Alewinder for a short time but I’m still concerned for your safety; however careful you are word, will get back to the Queen if you are seen in the palace.”

“I know! He can stay with us!” squeaked Animus. “Jonderill can have his old room back and Tissian can stay in the guest room.” Animus almost bounced up and down with excitement.

“And if Dozo doesn’t mind sharing a room with Tissian he can stay too and make sure the two of them don’t get up to any mischief,” put in Plantagenet.

“It seems that it’s settled then. Allowyn and I will settle into this woodsman’s cottage of yours and the three of you will join us as soon as Tissian is able to travel, but Jonderill, please be careful and keep out of trouble; the Queen will find some way to have her revenge on you if she can.”

*

Jonderill sat on the rickety chair with his arm propped up on the window sill and his head resting in his hand and shivered. His room at the top of the magician’s tower had always been cold and draughty but he hadn’t realised just how small it was. He was certain that when he was a boy the room was bigger and not quite so shabby, but of course it hadn’t really changed. The chair was still rickety and in need of repair, and the old rug still had the burn mark in one corner where he had experimented with elemental fire to see if the rug would catch alight. He smiled at the memory of him panicking when the rug started to blaze and him throwing his wash water over it. It had taken him half the night to clear up the mess and even longer to confess what he had done to the two old magicians.

He looked out of the poorly fitting window at the spectacular view and remembered the times he had spent sitting in the same spot, looking at the same view, wishing that he was an armsman rather than a servant to two old, inept magicians. Now he wished he could be that boy again. Life had been simple then; go to the market, cook breakfast and clean, run errands, cook lunch and wash up, go to sword practice, cook dinner and sleep. He didn’t miss the servant’s work but he did miss the sword practice and the time spent with his friends. If he had been given a choice in the matter he would have liked to have been a soldier, but that was one thing he would never be now. His attempt to pick up the old iron blade from the desk where Dozo had put it had left him on his knees retching into his empty wash bowl. Even the thought of touching it made him feel dizzy.