War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (20 page)

The ashes in the grate were cold. A plate lay alone and unwashed in the kitchen sink, while the remnant of bread in the crock played host to a thriving colony of greyish-green growth. Metamorphosed into an unappetising acidic-yellow slurry, the milk stared sourly back at him from its jug. All around him lurked the stale air of vacancy.

Returning cheerful refreshed and rejuvenated from his recuperation in the realm of the wood-sprites, this was not what Symon had been expecting. Feeling more deflated than annoyed, he wandered back into the sitting room and tugged half-heartedly on a bell-pull before picking up his bag and carrying it into his bedroom. The gleaming spring sunlight flooding through the window helped to restore his spirits, and he began unpacking. Things were methodically tucked away in wardrobes and drawers, while a few mysterious packages of various shapes and sizes were placed aside on a small table. The doorbell jangled.

His expression inscrutable, Jobling folded his hands behind his back as he gave a slight but respectful bow. “I have taken the liberty of answering your bell myself, my Lord. Allow me to say how pleased I am that you have returned safely.”

Symon took a step backwards and looked up at the major-domo’s bland expression. The little magician tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. If this was how Jobling looked when he was pleased, Symon was hard pressed to imagine what bad news would do to his countenance.

He turned away. “Er…thank you Jobling. Do come in and close the door.”

As the manservant followed him into the small ante-room, Symon paused with his hand on the knob of the connecting door. “Tell me Jobling. Where is everybody? This apartment looks positively abandoned.”

From an inside pocket Jobling produced a sealed folded piece of vellum and handed it to Symon. “I was asked by the Lady Evalin to ensure that you received this on your return. I believe the contents will make everything clear, my Lord.”

Symon’s round face betrayed the briefest flash of irritation as he took the proffered letter. “How long have you known me Jobling?”

Straightening his shoulders, the major-domo’s reply was proudly confident. “Since I was a youth, my Lord.”

Symon nodded and pushed open the door into the sitting room. “Then I think it’s about time you stopped using that title I’ve been saddled with, don’t you? If you insist on being formal, Master Symon will suffice admirably. Now, let’s see what we have here.”

Breaking the thick dark blue seal as he went, Symon scuttled across the room to the window and held the letter towards the bright daylight. He read it through twice, his expression becoming more and more abject as he read Evalin’s words.

Sitting down heavily on the window-seat, the little magician listlessly waved the letter in the air as he stared unhappily at Jobling. “Well. This certainly explains everything, but I can’t say that knowing has brought any comfort. It seems that no sooner have I arrived than I find myself having to depart again.”

He stood up and looked around as if uncertain what to do next, then nodded and turned to Jobling. “You couldn’t find me a discreet and reliable domestic could you, just this once.” He took a few steps closer and lowered his voice. “I’m afraid there are one or two …er…unsavoury things in the kitchen that need attending to. I’ll probably be gone by the time she gets here, so perhaps you’d make sure the door is locked afterwards?”

Jobling made another slight bow. “I will attend to it immediately my…Master Symon. I’m sure that when you next return you will find everything to your satisfaction.”

Symon patted his palms together. “Good, good. Then that will be all Jobling, thank you. I have one or two things to collect then I’ll be off.”

As Symon hurried towards his study, Jobling turned about and exited the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

As far as the location of Evalin’s palace was concerned, Symon had a distinct advantage over Bardeen. He had been there many times. He was tempted to take a detour through the breathtakingly beautiful city of Bolduin, perhaps spend an hour or two enjoying the peace and tranquillity of its wooded parks or the botanical gardens, even perhaps browse in its famous library. Regretfully he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind. Hitching a small, tooled leather satchel onto his shoulder he quietly and clearly uttered the spell which would take him swiftly through the aether to Evalin’s palace, hidden in its secret valley somewhere beyond the snow-dusted mountains of Runamaur.

Secure in the knowledge that Karryl could be in no safer hands, Symon decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself a little. He materialised at the edge of a small stand of birch trees. Discovering his weight was crushing a clump of emerging bluebells, he stepped quickly to one side. Clusters of fattening birch catkins danced in the gentle breeze. In this seemingly magical land, the seasons delayed their emergence for almost a month behind those of Albita. Symon looked around and smiled in quiet appreciation, before leaving the peaceful shelter of the softly whispering trees, and strolling up the long gentle slope of rabbit grazed turf. In the distance he could see the rear entrance of Evalin’s small and unpretentious palace.

To his surprise he found the area in front of the single rear door protected by a strong warding just wide enough to prevent him from reaching the bell-pull. Quickly he drew a little power and assessed the warding, estimating that it would take him no more than a few minutes to dismantle. In a whimsical moment he decided against it. Instead he mischievously laid garbled fragments of a counter-spell onto the warding and waited. The result was not quite what he had expected. Without any kind of warning he found his arms pinned to his sides as he was instantly levitated to a position about four feet above the ground. Unable to move anything except his head, the little magician gave a delighted chuckle as he surveyed his surroundings from this very different perspective and unaccustomed altitude. Hearing the sound of running footsteps and the clatter of bolts being drawn, he grinned. The door flew open. At the same time, a brace of halberdiers raced towards him along the flag-stoned footway at the rear of the building.

Waving the guards to a halt, Evalin stepped forward, hands on hips. With one slender and quizzical eyebrow raised she contemplated her captive. “I’m thinking Master Symon that I should be leaving you up there for an hour or two.”

Symon would have patted his palms together but his arms were still being pressed firmly against his sides. Instead he gave a surprisingly boyish giggle. “And I’m thinking, ma’am, that it would probably be a most enjoyable experience, were I facing in the opposite direction. Up here I am no weight at all, and the ingenuity of your little trap is certainly cause for at least an hour of reflection.”

Throwing up her hands in mock despair, Evalin tried very hard to stop her old friend’s deceptively casual and incorrigible manner bringing a smile to her face. With a tiny gesture she lowered Symon gently until his feet were firmly on the ground. Bending at the knees, she gave him a brief hug of welcome before ushering him indoors and dismissing the guards.

As Evalin fastened the door behind them, Symon asked the question which had been uppermost in his mind from the moment Jobling had handed him the letter. “How is Karryl?”

Evalin folded her hands inside her wide sleeves and smiled warmly. “Far better than we could have hoped. Anti-venom was administered yesterday afternoon. Now he is resting comfortably, but I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you later on. He’s already briefly met our two other unusual guests. Shall we join them?”

She favoured him with a sidelong glance as she led the way down a broad corridor hung with tapestries and paintings of magical beasts and beings. “I scuttled them into the library when you triggered the alarm. No doubt they’ll be relieved to discover it was only you, up to your shenanigans.”

The two occupants of the library stood up as Evalin and Symon entered. The little magician smiled and nodded in response to Kimi’s traditional gestures of welcome. A little frown of query creased his brow as a white haired man wearing the traditional and distinctive cap and robes of master magician, stepped forward, hand outstretched. The man looked familiar. Symon quickly searched his extensive memory as he too took another step forward and held out his own hand. The hand-clasp of welcome lingered. Then Symon’s grip tightened as he realised whose blue eyes sparkled warmly back at him.

His own eyes wide with disbelief, Symon pumped vigorously at the other’s hand. “Bardeen? This is incredible! Is it really you?” Releasing the hand of his erstwhile apprentice, Symon spread his arms wide as if to welcome a long-lost brother. “This is indeed a wonderful surprise! I’m almost lost for words!”

Bardeen chuckled. “I find that hard to believe, Master Symon. What I do believe is that you are looking surprisingly well.”

Symon’s grey eyes shone as he tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. “I have just returned from a rest-cure in the realm of the wood-sprites, thanks to our gracious hostess. You should try it sometime.”

Evalin gracefully crossed the room, leaned forward and studied the water-clock before gesturing towards the door. “Shall we go to the dining room gentlemen? Then you can all reminisce and exchange amazing tales over lunch.”

She turned and looked thoughtfully at each one of them in turn. “You will find I have a few other house-guests, but I trust them implicitly, so anything you choose to discuss will be treated in confidence and will remain within these walls. Now let us enjoy a long and well earned refreshment.”

As they left the library Symon paused and turned to Evalin. “Would it be possible to look in on Karryl before we eat?”

Evalin took his arm and steered him towards the dining room. “I know full well how much you want to see him, but it would be better if he remained undisturbed for a few more hours. His recovery will be slow at best, and the first few hours of rest after the effects of the anti-venom are vital.”

Symon’s brow furrowed. “Is anybody with him in case he wakes up and needs something?”

Evalin nodded. “My own nurse sits with him, and has specific instructions. Karryl will probably wake before supper, and you can see him then. Now, stop worrying. To be sure, haven’t you plenty to occupy your mind until then?”

Nodding in reluctant agreement, Symon followed her into the large, light and airy dining room. Seated between Bardeen and an ageing but alert prince of Arinel, his worries were banished for an hour or two by good food and lively conversation. After their long but light meal, Symon and Bardeen took a leisurely stroll around the well tended gardens of the palace. A chill wind sprang up forcing them to return indoors, where they settled down in the library to wait for Evalin to tell Symon he could go and see Karryl. Their time was not wasted. The two magicians talked animatedly about the people and events that had filled their lives for the past few hundred years, their conversation frequently punctuated by long moments of thoughtful and companionable silence. It was during the last of these that Symon stood and crossed the room to gaze out of the window at the lengthening shadows. Without turning he asked the question which had been hovering at the edge of his mind since the moment he had first recognised his former apprentice.

The little magician’s voice betrayed not only regret but also a modicum of accusation. “Why did you never contact me after you left your place in the mountains? I must admit I did search and make enquiries. When no trace of you could be found I naturally thought you were…you know.”

Bardeen pushed himself out of his comfortable chair and joined his fellow magician beside the window. The tell-tale prickling of his skin told Symon that in all likelihood Bardeen had cast a warding of silence.

Even so, the younger magician kept his voice low. “I was given a task, one that would probably last the rest of my life. When I first discovered what would be involved I thought it was some kind of disapproval. Despite that, I accepted with a good grace and was provided with the means to set about fulfilling that task.” His eyes shining, he turned to look at Symon. “It’s only recently that I have come to realise that I had been placed in a position of extreme trust, and how much depended on it.”

Symon gave a wry smile. “It must have been difficult at times.”

Bardeen responded with an assertive nod. “Indeed it was, especially at the beginning. I had to put aside my identity as a magician, although I found that living the life of a recluse was not too difficult.” He gazed dreamily out of the window. “I did miss the mountains though.” He turned away from the window, a smile of satisfaction transforming his rather careworn face. “But it seems that it’s all turned out to be worthwhile doesn’t it?”

Symon was noncommittal. “That remains to be seen, but you’re probably right. I just wish you’d told me, that’s all.”

Bardeen lifted his hands to stress his point. “That’s just it. I wasn’t allowed to. That was one of the major stipulations. Perhaps when all this is over we’ll see more clearly why things had to be that way.”

For a moment or two it seemed as if Bardeen was on the verge of saying something else. Obviously having decided against it, he made a brief hand gesture dispelling the warding of silence. After a last look at the fading embers of the day, the two magicians returned to the comfort of their armchairs. The sun had long set and the white light of a full moon washed the distant slopes of Runamaur when the second Mage-Prime opened his eyes and asked for a drink of water.