Bronze Magic (Book 1) (20 page)

Waterstone smiled, “I’m afraid so” He turned back to the river to give
his arrow a final shake to clear it of excess water and walked up to sit near
Tarkyn. “Autumn Leaves mind told me about the identity of the bounty
hunters. When you left to walk down here, we thought I should come
down and see how you were. I hadn’t decided whether or not to intrude
on your solitude to talk to you, but events made the decision for me.”
Waterstone saw the prince thinking this through and added, “To forestall
any suspicions you might have about Autumn Leaves’ motives, I might
point out that he has no expectation that I would tell you of his concern.”
The woodman grimaced, “In fact, I don’t think he would be very pleased
to find out that I had told you.”
“I had already figured that out, actually.” The prince grinned sheepishly
The woodman shook his head ruefully. “I knew it. You can’t take
anything at face value. You have to analyse everyone’s actions to the last
detail.”
Tarkyn snorted derisively. “Do you blame me? Especially tonight, after
what Stormaway told me. Andoran and Sargon have been amongst my
circle of friends for years. They may not have been my closest friends and
I may not have liked everything they did, but I would never have expected
this of them.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And yet no matter how
hard I try to second-guess people’s motives and protect myself, look what
happens.”
Waterstone shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t blame you. The longer
I know you, the more I understand why you do it.” He shrugged, “I just
think it’s a shame that those stinking sorcerers have jaundiced your view
of people so much.”
The princes raised his eyebrows, “And are woodfolk so far above
reproach, then?”
“Of course they’re not, though I think they’re better. All right. I’ll
retract that. It’s not sorcerers or woodfolk. It’s the power that corrupts
the people around you.”
“That’s a refreshing point of view, Waterstone,” remarked Tarkyn
caustically. “It is generally held to be the power wielder who is corrupted
by the power.”
Waterstone eyed him thoughtfully. “Considering your family, I would
have to say there’s a lot of truth in that. However, power does not corrupt
everyone within its sphere and therein lies your hope. Except for your
deep-seated and let’s face it, justifiable paranoia, I think your integrity
remains remarkably unscathed by the power you wield and there will
be people around you whose integrity overrides the lure of power.”
Waterstone picked up a stone and threw it forcefully into the river. “Your
problem is finding out who they are.”
The prince stared out silently across the river. He was quiet for so
long that Waterstone nudged him to see if he had gone to sleep. Tarkyn
came out of his reverie with a start. “Ow! Don’t forget the ribs!” He
rubbed his side. “I was thinking back over all the times I spent with
Andoran and Sargon, trying to find the clues that should have alerted
me. People are so good at prevaricating. Either that, or I’m easily fooled.”
He swung haunted eyes around to regard the woodman. “I feel as though
I’m walking in quicksand. Each step is sucking me in deeper and deeper
until finally I’ll have nothing solid left to hang onto.”
Waterstone knew it would be pointless to reassure Tarkyn of his
friendship. He cursed the invidious people who had so often betrayed the
young man’s trust. Overwhelmed with frustration, the woodman leapt to
his feet and started pacing back and forth. Finally, he stopped and stood
staring down at the prince, his hands on his hips. “There must be some
way to test people, to decipher their motives.” He paced up and down
a few more times, then came back to stand over the prince, completely
oblivious to the breach of etiquette he was committing. “What about the
mind linking? You’ve never had that at your disposal before. What do
you pick up? Images and feelings? Could you use that to check someone’s
motives?”
Tarkyn focused on Waterstone for a minute, then shook his head. “I
don’t know. All I can pick up from you is exasperation and frustration.
The thinking component is missing. So I can’t know from mind linking
whether you’re frustrated out of care for me or because you can’t get me
to trust you so that you can use me.” Seeing Waterstone’s quick frown,
Tarkyn hastened to add, “I’m not saying that’s what I think. I’m just
showing you the limitations.”
The woodman stared at him for a minute before resuming his pacing.
The next time he stopped, he asked, “But it could be useful in some
situations, couldn’t it? You might discern nervousness or feelings of guilt,
for instance?”
Tarkyn nodded. “Yes. I can imagine times when it could be quite
revealing.”
“Hmph” Waterstone set off on his pacing again. Then he stopped
abruptly, looking out over the river. He stood there for several seconds
before turning slowly to face the prince.
“What if you could search through a person’s memories? Through all
their impressions and feelings?”
“Tree Wind showed me some of her memory,” said Tarkyn slowly. “It
certainly revealed her antipathy, although it was only a short segment.”
He frowned. “She could equally have shown me a bland unrevealing
memory if she had chosen to be duplicitous. I can see two difficulties
with that idea. I don’t have whole lifetime to spend viewing someone
else’s lifetime of memories and it is very intrusive. I could not demand it
of anyone.”
The woodman came back and sat down opposite the prince. “Memories
don’t use up real time and many similar memories tend to compress into
one impression with the changes in attitudes overlaying them. Even so,
you’re right. A whole lifetime of memories would take too long.” He
paused while he thought it through, “So, what if the person gave his
permission freely and you chose which segments to view?”
Tarkyn did not pretend to misunderstand the woodman. He eyed
Waterstone. “I couldn’t ask it of you.”
“But would it convince you?”
The young prince studied the woodman for a long time, as he searched
for possible loopholes. He turned his head look out across the silvery
river. Finally, he returned his gaze to Waterstone. “Yes. It would.”
Waterstone took a deep breath, let it out, then said formally, “Then I
freely give you access to whatever of my memories that you wish to view.”
“But if I do this, it will be difficult for you, won’t it?”
“Yes. It will. I am placing great faith in you to allow you to do it. But
it will be even more difficult to keep living with your continual mistrust.
You have no notion how hard it is not to feel hurt, each time there’s an
indication that you don’t trust me.”
“Oh Waterstone, I am so sorry!” Tarkyn ran his hands through his
hair. “And I wish I could say that your offer alone were enough.”
Waterstone gave a sad smile. “But I know it is not and I knew, when I
offered, that it would not be. Sooner or later, the suspicion would cross
your mind that I might have banked on you not taking up my offer.”
Tarkyn grimaced. “Stars above! I am hard work, aren’t I? I don’t think
my company is very good for you. You’re starting to learn my warped
thinking patterns.” He took a deep breath and looked the woodman.
“Very well. I accept your offer. When?”
Waterstone’s eyes went slightly out of focus for a few seconds as he
checked with the lookouts. He re-focused and said, “Now. If I have to
wait, I’ll get too nervous.”
Tarkyn frowned, “Are you sure about this?”
The woodman nodded shortly. “Come on. Just get on with it. When
and what do you want to see first?”
The prince didn’t hesitate. “My father’s visit to the forest.”
“All of it?”
“From just after the oath is given.”
“Right. Relax and look into my eyes.”
The king’s and the little prince’s final words die away. The king stands
glowering over us as we kneel before him. My stomach feels tight and sick. We
all stare at this tyrant who has come among us. No one can think of anything
to say.
Suddenly, the king’s whole demeanour changes. He smiles benignly around
him and rubs his hands together.
“Good!” he exclaims, “Now that is settled, we had better get started on
helping you people to recover.” He stands up from the table. “Stormaway! Get
your herbs, medicines, whatever. Quickly, man! We have work to do.”
The king raises his eyebrows until I realise that he is waiting to be shown
where to go. I lead him to the nearest shelter. He has to duck to enter, and
then the restricted height forces him to kneel down at the bedside of a sick
woodwoman. He looks at me. “Her name?”
“Cracking Branch, Your Majesty.”
“Hmph. How long have you been ill, Cracking Branch?”
“About four days, Your Majesty.”
“And how are you feeling?”
“I don’t have any strength left and my head and limbs are all aching.”
In a surprisingly gentle voice, the king says, “Let me assure you that help
is on its way.” He looks over his shoulder towards the entrance and frowns
ferociously. “Where is that dratted wizard? Ah, Stormaway. Took your time,
man. Now, what are we doing for these folk?”
Stormaway produces a quantity of various herbs and hands them to me.
“Can you boil some water and make a strong tea with these, please? We also
need flannels or rags and bowls of cold water to bathe people’s foreheads to
reduce the fever.”
I emerge from the shelter to be surrounded by wide-eyed woodfolk. I ignore
their questions and organise the wizard’s requirements.
After this, Tarkyn experienced a blur of memories, all similar, with
the king visiting every sick person, reassuring them in his bluff manner,
and ensuring that they received treatment. Tarkyn could feel Waterstone’s
attitude to the king gradually shifting from horror and distress to reluctant
respect and admiration as the king persevered through the night and deep
into the next day without a break. Then the memory became clear again.
The king enters a shelter to kneel at the bedside of a young woodwoman
with gentle green eyes and a musical voice, my wife.
“Good morning, Your Majesty. I am Skylark.”
“Good morning Skylark. How long have you been ill?”
“Not as long as many others. Only three days but it is very wearying.”
The king takes her hand. “Well, I hope you will recover soon with this fine
tea that young Waterstone has summoned up for you.”
I smile at her and give her the tea. The king looks from one to the other of
us and raises his eyebrows. “You know each other, I gather.”
We both grin and chorus, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Hmph, well, Skylark. You should be proud of this young man. He has
worked with me through the night to bring aid to those of you who are sick.”
Skylark smiles and says, “I am.”
I leave the shelter with her voice ringing in my ears.
Tarkyn pulled out of the memory and gave Waterstone time to recover.
The woodman had tears in his eyes as the prince smiled mistily at him.
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you to remember Skylark.”
“It is, but no worse than all the other times I remember her.”
Tarkyn sniffed, “It is also hard for me, seeing my father like that. It’s
clearer than any memories I have of him.”
Waterstone cocked his head to one side. “I suppose it would be. I
hadn’t thought of that.”
Tarkyn gave a small smile. “It’s one of the reasons I drank so much at
the feast that first night. I’d just seen my father in Tree Wind’s memory and
even though he must seem ruthless and bombastic to you, I still miss him.”
“He was ruthless and bombastic, as you put it, but he was also
dedicated and passionate and true to his word that he would care for
our people,” replied the woodman. He walked down to the water’s
edge and splashed water on his face and hair. Then he returned and
unloaded an earthen bottle and two cups from his knapsack. “I’ve just
remembered. I brought provisions with me in case I decided to sit and
talk with you.” He poured golden liquid into a cup and offered it to the
prince. “Wine?”
Tarkyn accepted it and took a long draught. “Thanks. This is quite a
torrid process, isn’t it?”
Waterstone looked at him for a moment, then dropped his eyes to his
cup. “Yes, it is.” He took a deep breath and looked up. “Where next?”
“When you first saw me a couple of weeks ago.”
The prince caught a flicker of hesitation but Waterstone closed his
eyes, composed himself then looked unwaveringly into Tarkyn’s eyes, “All
right. But I warn you, you may not like some of this. Look deeply and
relax.”
It is a soft sunny afternoon. We are posted in the trees near the eastern edge
of the forest awaiting the arrival of this renegade prince whom we may have
to serve. We have heard dire tales of his misdeeds and we are hopeful that he
will not survive Stormaway’s testing. He appears around a bend in the road,
walking in the company of Stormaway and talking. This prince is very tall;
his hair is black like a raven and very long. He glances up into the trees and
I see his father’s face and electrifying eyes. Yet despite his bulk, his demeanour
is not intimidating as he bends slightly so that he can hear what the wizard
has to say.
An impression of mental discussion reached Tarkyn but no words. He
pulled out of the memory and instructed, “Now, that same evening from
where I try to leave and you woodfolk stop me.”
This time, the memory was images with a running thought commentary.
We have taken an irrevocable step in revealing ourselves. Either he will
die or he will rule us. His shield will not save him against Stormaway’s and
our combined forces. Even though I know which way Stormaway’s judgement
will go, my heart sinks as I hear the words, “He has passed my final test.”
We make a desperate plea to Stormaway to postpone the final sealing of the
binding spell. We have to be sure, before we are forced to accept this young
inexperienced sorcerer as our liege lord: we who do not even have leaders
among ourselves. I am almost old enough to be his father. Suddenly, he waves
his arm. My heart leaps in fear and I flick into the cover of the trees. Silly
young man looks surprised that we have vanished. What does he expect? The
wizard is not getting things all his own way, for a change. This prince is
nobody’s fool. Stormaway’s attempt to force his hand by threatening to make
him leave the forest fails signally. The young man calls his bluff immediately.
Stormaway is right. He is arrogant and easily angered but so far, only when
he’s challenged. He has a better sense of humour than Stormaway and he is
smarter and better at manipulating people than his father. Therefore, possibly
more dangerous.