The White Robe (47 page)

Jonderill closed his eyes and desperately tried to concentrate. What sort of magic would be needed to get them out of this mess, and how was he going to conjure it up when the best he could do was to mend broken straps and chase squeakers out of the grain store. In a panic he fell back on the most basic of magic and produced a small ball of elemental fire which spluttered twice in the heavy rain and went out.

“Is that all you can bloody well do, you useless bastard?” Jonderill nodded miserably. “What about summoning your protector, can you at least manage that much?”

Jonderill didn’t bother replying as he wasn’t sure if he could even do that but he closed his eyes and thought of Tissian standing all day at the entrance to the maze worrying about him. He felt ashamed at the way he had treated his protector but at the same time a wave of relief washed over him as he felt a sudden warmth as if someone had put a blanket over his shoulders.

“He’s on his way, Your Majesty.”

“He’d better be or I’ll have your balls for this.”

The first sign that rescue was on its way was that the rain stopped, and shortly after that, Callabris appeared through one of the openings followed by Tissian and Allowyn carrying blankets. Borman grabbed the ones Allowyn was carrying and wrapped them around his shaking body.

“Get us out of here.”

Callabris bowed and led them back through the opening, along the pathway for half a dozen steps and then a right turn which brought them into the open where Borman’s servants waited ready to assist their master. Borman took the pot of steaming mulled wine one of them was holding and swallowed it down without stopping, before turning angrily on Jonderill. “If you were anything but a white robe I would have your head for this, in fact, I might still do that anyway. Now get out of my sight and stay out of it until you’ve learnt to wipe your own arse.”

He turned and went back into the palace leaving everyone else standing there.

*

Jonderill sat miserably in front of the fire feeling odd in the shirt and breeches he had borrowed from Allowyn. Dozo had taken his robe away to dry and Callabris had warned him that it would likely take several days before he could wear it again. At least he was warm now, although he wasn’t sure if that was due to the fire and the pot of mulled wine he had taken, or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Callabris, I’ve made a real fool of myself. I have been disrespectful to you and have looked like an idiot in front of the king.”

“You have no need to apologise to me; I was young and foolish once and know how easy it is to forget who you really are when temptation is put in your way. As for the king, he will get over it if you keep out of his way for a few days. If you want to apologise to anyone then it should be to Tissian. Treating him like a hound and then ordering him to stand outside the maze all day awaiting your return was unkind and thoughtless.”

“I know and I have apologised to him several times. I didn’t expect him to have to wait an entire day; I thought I could walk the maze in just a candle length. It seemed so easy; I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“Don’t you, Jonderill?”

Jonderill looked down at his hands and nodded. “Yes, of course I do. The maze is magic and is not meant to be walked, but I was too arrogant to seek advice and too eager to show off. There are just so many things that I don’t know and I don’t seem able to learn them quickly enough not to get myself in to trouble.”

“You only have to ask, Jonderill, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

Jonderill thought for a moment. There were so many things that he needed to know but there was only one question he could think to ask. “Who is Callistares?”

Callabris looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”

Jonderill hesitated for a moment. “It’s just a name I’ve heard.”

“Callistares was one of the most powerful magicians that has ever lived. For many years he wore the crimson robe, and was the High Master of the Enclave and most beloved of Federa. It was a time when magic thrived and the Enclave was the centre of the six kingdoms. Kings would travel there to worship at the goddess’s temple and seek her wisdom through the High Master. Then one day, King Brodine, that was Borman’s father, turned up at the temple, and when he left he took Callistares with him as his magician. They spent every waking moment together, and Borman was left to the none too tender mercies of a succession of tutors.

“Sadly, without the presence of the goddess’s temple to bind his power, Callistares was driven to madness. King Brodine asked for the temples help, but the new High Master refused to help Callistares, who he saw as a traitor. The king did whatever he could to aid and protect his friend and magician, but in the end Callistares became so dangerous that Brodine had to act. Together they built the maze that you walked today, and when it was done, the king took a sword to his friend and entombed the body in the centre of the maze. Brodine was never the same man, and died sad and bitter in the summer when Borman gained his majority. Some believe that the power of Callistares still remains at its centre, but the maze cannot be walked, as you have learnt.”

“Is that why King Borman tries, so he can take Callistares’ power for himself?”

“Yes. It’s partly that. I also think Borman is still trying to understand why his father rejected him in favour of Callistares.”

“He said that you wouldn’t go into the maze with him. I bet that made him angry.”

“Yes it did, but I told him the reasons why I cannot enter the maze, and he’s accepted it as part of the agreement between us.”

Jonderill frowned in puzzlement. “But you came into the maze today and rescued us and found the way out with no difficulty. If you are unable to enter the maze how did you do that?”

“Your protector asked for my help and I begged the goddess’s permission. Without Federa’s consent the maze is a very dangerous place.”

“And you used magic.”

“Yes, I used magic, but only because I had the goddess’s leave to do so. The maze does not allow magic to be used within its bounds, even if it’s a part of what we are.”

“It may be part of you, but I don’t think it’s part of me. I try so hard to do the things you have shown me, not because you have asked me to do them or because I want to do them to please you, although I do. I try because I want to do them, I want to be the white robe everyone tells me I am, but I just can’t do it. Nothing happens, nothing comes. Most of the time I cannot feel anything or touch anything, it’s as if there is nothing there.”

Jonderill wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and stared dejectedly into the fire.

“Jonderill, we have talked before about memory blocks and how it is possible that Maladran placed a block on your memory, so that bad things from your past remain hidden from you. It is possible that Maladran saw the potential of magic within you and blocked that too.”

Jonderill shook his head in denial. “He wouldn’t do that, he cared for me.”

“Perhaps that is the reason he did it. Sarrat was a demanding master who would stand no opposition or rivals. There were rumours of him killing Maladran’s apprentices, those children who should have been sent to the Enclave for training, although the High Master could never prove it. Maladran might have been trying to protect you from his king. Do you ever recall him entering your mind without your permission?”

Jonderill thought about it carefully before giving a hesitant answer. “No, he never did that but once he asked to test me, to see if I had any magic. I was in about my tenth summer and we were going to the High Lord of Leersland’s estates. He came into my mind like a brilliant white flame that burnt away every thought I had. When I couldn’t push the flame away, he told me I had no magic.” Jonderill was silent for a long while as he stared into the flames. “He lied to me didn’t he?”

“So it would seem.”

“Can you remove this block?”

“It is difficult for me to reverse a spell laid by such a powerful magician, especially after so long. It can only be done if you have something of his which has been imbued with his magic.”

Jonderill nodded and went to his sleeping room returning with a black silk bag which he held out for Callabris to take. The white robe took the bag, opened the draw string and emptied the torc into his hand. He gave a gasp of shock, dropped the torc as if he had been burned and stared at the glowing red eyes of the demon in horror.

“Where did you get this thing?”

Jonderill hesitated. “It was Maladran’s, his final gift to me.”

“Do you know what this is? Do you know the evil it contains?”

“Yes, High Master Razarin told me about it. It’s the device that controls the power of a black robe. It was made for Yarrin and then Maladran wore it. I suppose if it had been created earlier, Callistares might have been able to wear it too.”

“It’s all of that and much, much more. It’s the gateway to demon magic which is forbidden to all of us with Federa’s gift. It would have been better if it had disappeared when Maladran was destroyed.”

“Yes, I know, but it was given to me by Maladran just before he died so now I keep it safe. Can you use it to remove the block to my magic?”

“I can if that is your wish, although it is not without some danger. I can also release your memories of the past if you want me to.”

Jonderill thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m certain Maladran blocked them from me for a good reason, and I don’t think I’m ready yet to find out what it was that Maladran didn’t want me to see.”

“As you wish, although I think you are mistaken. One day you will have to deal with what’s hidden from you, and it may be better if it was now, whilst you are amongst friends, rather than wait until perhaps the wrong time and your past is used against you.” Jonderill shook his head. “Very well, I think this would be best done in your sleeping chamber and certainly away from the fire; removing a block can sometimes result in a violent reaction or a deep sleep.”

“If I’m going to get violent shouldn’t Tissian and Allowyn be there?”

“Definitely not Tissian, his bond with you would make this almost impossible, but if you allow it, I should like Allowyn to be present?”

Jonderill nodded his agreement and called Allowyn in from where he was standing guard outside the door. Callabris explained what they were going to do and together they went into Jonderill’s sleeping chamber where Jonderill lay on the bed and Callabris sat beside him. Allowyn took up position in front of the door where he could move quickly to his master’s aid if needed and where he could prevent anyone disturbing them.

Callabris placed the torc into Jonderill’s hands. “Jonderill, I want you to close your eyes and relax. I will hold the other side of the torc so that we’re connected and through that I will seek out the core of your magic. I’m not sure what you will feel, but if there is pain and it becomes too much, you must tell me to stop. Do you understand?”

Jonderill nodded and closed his eyes and waited for something to happen. He had a distant memory of Maladran entering his mind and the brilliant white light that had burnt so fiercely. It was what he expected to happen but instead, there was a feeling of creeping coldness as if his blood was being replaced with ice. It spread from his fingers where he held the torc, up his arms and through his body.