Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (30 page)

Keverin and Gideon moved to the door.

“Nothing is impossible,” Keverin said. “Especially so in these days.”

They walked side by side until reaching the tower steps. Keverin indicated Gideon should precede him, and then followed a few steps behind.

“I must say it’s a little off putting at my age,” Gideon said.

“What is?”

“Learning that what I thought to be true is in fact not true at all. I find myself somewhat excited, my lord.”

Keverin smiled at Gideon’s back. “I know what you mean, but exciting times can be dangerous.”

“Oh yes indeed!” Gideon said as he opened the lower door. “I was in the chapel when the sorcerers breached the west wall, my lord. I thought the roof was coming down.”

Keverin nodded. It had been somewhat worse for him than Gideon. He had just descended the gate tower and was walking toward Renard when the sorcerers struck. A blue light so intense it burned his eyes turned his entire world blue, but then had come the roar. The stones of the curtain wall had been sundered one from the other. In an instant, they were turned into a deadly hail of sharp rocks that slew all in their path. He was thrown to the ground and escaped most of the missiles because of that, but a piece of bronze clad wood from gates constructed a thousand years ago had speared his thigh. The agony was slow to come, but when it did, he could barely stifle the shriek building in his throat. All was chaos. Dust and stones were raining from the sky, and the ground was shaking. He awoke to find Julia’s beautiful face hovering before him—

“My lord? Are you well?” Gideon said worriedly.

Keverin blinked. They were standing outside the doors to the great hall. Inside he could here the murmur of conversation and the clink-clink sound of many forks against dinner plates. His people had started eating without him.

“Memories...” Keverin said and pulled himself together. “Let us go in and face my mother’s displeasure.” He nodded to Moriz who stood guard outside the great hall with Halbert on this special occasion. “You two may go and find your own dinners.”

“Thank you m’lord, but we had a bite a time back,” Moriz said.

“Don’t you worry about us m’lord. We are happy to wait for The Lady,” Halbert put in.

Keverin smiled and left them to their vigil. Gideon went his way to find his place, while Keverin continued on to the high table.

Jessica had done Athione proud. Excepting those guardsmen on duty, everyone was sitting at the lower tables and eating heartily. Wine was flowing and good cheer abounded. His mother was sitting in the centre of the high table facing him as he made his way down the row left clear between benches packed full of his people.

“God bless him!”

“Hurrah for the lord!”

“Hurrah!” The diners shouted and raised their glasses.

Keverin smiled and waved a hand in acknowledgement of the good wishes.

Jessica had been playing host in his absence. She was not pleased with him if he were any judge of expression. Julia was further down sandwiched between Mathius and Purcell. The contrast between them was startlingly apparent. One often forget Julia’s small stature. She was so full of life that she seemed bigger than she truly was, but beside Purcell she was tiny—as a child of five is tiny next to her parents. Purcell towered over everyone of course. At over seven feet, he was the biggest man Keverin had ever seen.

Keverin mounted the single step onto the dais and walked behind Julia and his mother before bending to speak to Gylaren. “Sorry I missed the start, Gy. Something came up.”

Gylaren lowered the piece of meat he was about to eat and nodded his acceptance of the apology. “May I ask?” he said and continued at Keverin’s nod. “Was it the sorcerers?”

“Not them. Letters from Devarr.”

“Morfran...” Gylaren growled.

Keverin patted his friend’s shoulder. It didn’t take much to set Gy off where Morfran was concerned. “Yes, him and one from Farran.”

“Nothing bad I hope.”

“I don’t want to say in front of so many, Gy. Perhaps later tonight you and Purcell will come have a late drink with me.”

“Honoured,” Gylaren said inclining his head.

Keverin patted the shoulder again. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Sitting beside his mother, Keverin tried to ignore the glare she directed his way, but finally acknowledged it with another apology.

“Where were you? Gy was ever so hurt,” Jessica said.

No he wasn’t. Jessica was just trying to make him feel guilty about being late.

“I apologised to him. I had a letter from Farran and I wanted to read it without delay.”

Jessica’s face lightened at word of the Holy Father. “How is he?”

“He’s well. He thanks you for the kind words about his poems and asks if you would like another volume.”

“Certainly!” Jessica said with pleasure evident in her voice. “He’s very talented.”

“He doesn’t think so, but I agree.”

Jessica turned to speak with Marcus while Keverin availed himself of food and drink. As he ate, he watched Julia surreptitiously. She was picking at her food without much interest. She looked tired, and although Purcell was making a heroic effort to draw her out, she seemed withdrawn and uninterested in converse. Her eyes were sunk into dark pits, and her face was slack and pale. Keverin frowned as she drank a full glass of wine and started another, but it seemed to perk her up a little and she began smiling and talking to Purcell. Keverin was pleased to see her beginning to enjoy herself, and he set about doing the same.

* * *

Julia pushed her meat around her plate thinking about going to bed. She was in danger of falling face first into her food.

“—like something else?” Purcell said with concern.

Julia roused herself a little. “I’m sorry Purcell, I was miles away.”

“Miles?”

“An expression. It means I was day dreaming—thinking about things. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I was just saying that if the food displeases you I’m sure something else can be prepared.”

Julia liked the sound of Purcell’s voice. He would have made a very good singer in her opinion. It was mellow and deep, and sent a tingle down her spine.

“The food is fine. I’m just feeling a little tired. To tell you the truth I was thinking of retiring early.”

“Please don’t do that, Julia. Perhaps a glass of this most excellent wine will revive you,” Purcell said and filled a glass with a deep red wine.

Perhaps it would at that. “Thank you,” she said and quaffed it in one.

Purcell’s eyebrows shot up as the wine disappeared down her throat. The wine lay leaden upon Julia’s stomach and the fumes took her breath for a moment. Purcell let out a grunt of surprise and refilled her glass.

“You drink like a man girl. You want to be careful. Keverin is notorious for keeping the best in his cellars. It might be too strong for you.”

Julia knew he meant well, but the advice irritated her. Everyone was very free with their advice, but would they listen to her? Of course not! She drank her second glass almost as quickly as the first and refilled it herself this time.

Purcell’s brows lowered. “Don’t do it for spite, Lady. You will only embarrass yourself in front of our host. If you are truly thirsty you should try some of the Pella juice.”

“Our host has no care or regard where I am concerned. I could fall asleep right here and he wouldn’t notice.”

“That is where you are wrong Julia. Keverin always has you in the forefront of his thoughts. You will learn that when I say something, you can lay gold on it being true.”

“Forgive me Purcell, I did not mean to suggest—”

“Do not concern yourself. I’m feeling a might grouchy. I have bad days too you know,” Purcell said a silly grin on his face.

Julia could not keep a straight face and giggled like a child. She drowned her hilarity in more wine, but laughter was bubbling just below the surface. Maybe the wine
was
a little strong for her. She was feeling a little hot and knew her face must be flushed.

“Tell me,” Julia said after eating a bite of her food hoping it would reduce the effect of the wine. “What is your impression of the Hasians?”

“Good fighters,” Purcell said instantly.

“So are you. What I meant was, why are they waiting? I thought it might be because they need more mages or reinforcements for all the men they lost.”

“Nasty thought that,” Purcell said frowning in thought. “I had assumed the sorcerers needed to recover themselves after tearing the wall down, but they’ve had plenty of time for that.”

“So you don’t know? Does anyone?”

“I know Gy doesn’t, and if Keverin did he would have told me.”

Julia drank a little Pella juice. “Mathius tried to use the mirror for me not long ago, but he hasn’t had much practise. He says the legion camp is warded against his scrying, but I think it’s more likely he doesn’t know how to use the mirror properly.”

“I heard that!” Mathius said mock glaring at her from his place on her other side. “I’ve seen the mirror used countless times.”

“But you were never taught,” Julia said. “Am I right?”

“You have the right of it,” Mathius reluctantly agreed.

Julia swallowed another sip of juice. She was becoming partial to Pella, it was like peaches and honey. “I can’t use a mirror either you know. It makes me wonder what they’re up to down there. Mathius’ friends seem to have spent most of their time trying to learn what the library had to teach them as individuals. They never tried to help each other.”

“You can’t blame them for that. It takes a lot of time and work to learn how to use our magic. Everyone guards their knowledge jealously because of that.”

“But that’s silly! If you taught the children at an early age how to use it wisely, Athione and Deva wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

“Darius said much the same thing,” Mathius admitted. “He thought I was lucky because my father taught me the dangers while on the road with him.”

“Hmmm, it doesn’t surprise me that Darius thought that way,” Purcell said. “He was a wise man. The Protectorate is the only country that formally trains its mages, and you can see how they have benefited from it.”

“Lord Keverin should be combing the countryside looking for boys to train in the craft,” Mathius said thoughtfully.

“I agree,” Julia said and Purcell nodded.

“Devarr was built by the Founders so they might seek their own way forward separate from those on the Black Isle,” Mathius said in his lecturing voice. “The Histories say that both groups were friendly for centuries before finally losing touch. Children grew up learning magical theory so that when they came of age they knew how to use their power and only needed to gain experience.”

“Makes sense to me,” Julia said.

Julia knew next to nothing about magical theory, but what she did know didn’t work for her. She had to make do with what she learned by trial and error. None of her patients had died because of it—she didn’t think they had. Those who died would have died anyway—she hoped.

“Were all the children taught? Surely some of the boys were born without the gift.”

Mathius shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect they taught everyone equally.”

“Must have,” Purcell said. “How would the Founders have known who had the gift before the children came of age?”

Julia wasn’t so sure. “I wonder.”

“What?” Both men said.

“Well you see, I might know how they did it. When I healed Mathius there was a blue light in his aura. It was beautiful—like a sapphire all lit up. Renard has it as well, though—” she broke of frowning. Renard hadn’t recovered from his trance. The light in his aura was dull and lifeless, unlike Mathius’ and, she now suspected, hers. “Anyway, none of the guardsmen has anything like that. Certainly those I healed haven’t.”

“And you think what... the light is the gift?” Mathius said intrigued by the idea.

“What else could it be?”

“It does make a kind of sense, but a school for mages won’t happen until the Hasians pack up and leave. If then,” Purcell pointed out.

In Julia’s opinion there was no chance of running the Hasians off. The Gap prevented anything of the sort, but even if it hadn’t been there, going into the pass where lots of mages and soldiers waited to kill her was not her idea of fun.

Julia finished the main course and followed it with a small desert made with fruits of wildly varying tastes and colours. The wine mixing with the juices from the fruit seemed to do strange things with her eyes, and she had trouble focusing on those around her. She found herself viewing the world with her mage-sight with no memory of invoking it. She smiled dreamily at all the strange patterns that made themselves known to her. People were so complex. She had no chance of understanding their patterns, but then that was true in the real world too. She never had understood why they did what they did, but in this place—this realm of healing, she could see other patterns. Her sight was unfocused, the wine had affected her more than she had thought. She could see the patterns were everywhere. The wood of the table had a distinctly different pattern from the marble floor, and the crystals of the chandeliers were amazing.

“Fractals,” Julia whispered gazing at the sparkling lights.

“Are you all right?” Mathius said.

Julia giggled. “Shee the pretty cryshals?”

Mathius looked up and frowned. “What about them?”

“Everything ish made of patternsh do you shee...
see
? The crystals are all...
fractaly!
” She giggled.

You are drunk miss Morton!

She was. Julia knew that she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. “I wash going to be famoush,” she said slurring the words. “I tell you that?”

“Help me with her m’lord. I don’t want anyone to see her like this. It’s the strain and—”

“I understand lad.”

Julia found herself sandwiched between two men, one huge like a giant, the other slender as a beanpole. Together they hastened to leave the great hall. People hailed Julia and she smiled at them. She would have stopped for a chat but her legs wouldn’t obey her—they insisted on walking out of the hall, or was it Mathius who insisted?