Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves (12 page)

Seephinia could speak the Known tongue when she was of a mind to, but most of the time she was not. Her initial dislike for me hadn’t faded and she showed no inclination toward friendship. At least I had that part cleared up now. It hadn’t taken me long to realize the hostility she harbored toward me was the result of my acquaintance with Hadrian. She was as jealous as a hawk over his dinner.

But she had nothing to worry about there. My friendship with the priest was so new I hesitated to call it even that, yet how could I call a man who was risking everything by mere association with me less than a friend? One thing was certain. It was no good making denials to the river woman. She had already made up her mind about me, and in all honesty I almost enjoyed her jealousy. From the beginning, she hadn’t been especially pleasant toward me and if I found the occasional opportunity to drag the priest off alone and leave her to sweat a little, I did.

Such opportunities weren’t hard to come by because Hadrian and I had much to talk about. One afternoon we talked of the bow. It was a chilly day. We were well into autumn and already a bite could be felt in the wind off the water, offering a foretaste of the winter to come. Back in Dimming, the trees would be stripped mostly bare this late in the season and the forest floor would be littered with dry leaves. I wished I were home to see it.

Hadrian and the river woman had gone out fishing, leaving me alone to pace and worry because Fleet hadn’t come to update me on his efforts for over a day now. I didn’t know if he had bad news and feared to tell me, if he had been taken up by the city guard and hauled off to prison himself, or if he was just having too good a time in his taverns and had forgotten all about me sitting here anxiously awaiting news. I made up my mind to punch him in the head whenever he did decide to come back and sat down to watch the door with that very intention in mind.

This was the state of mind Hadrian found me in when he returned some time later. A more cautious man might’ve taken a look at my face and found an excuse to turn around and leave, but Hadrian wasn’t easily intimidated. If he even noticed my dark scowl, he pretended not to. His attention was immediately drawn to one thing and, as was often the case with him, it was the thing I least wanted him to notice.

“You keep that object close these days, don’t you?” he asked.

I knew what he referred to. My bow was propped against my knee, not because I was intending to use it, but because I felt anxious lately when it wasn’t near.

“Just the force of habit,” I said. “When you were a Blade of Justice you must have slept with your sword in your hand. You never know when you’ll need it.”

It sounded better than the truth, that I had developed an unreasonable fear my bow would be stolen if I let it out of reach.

“That’s different, we were in constant danger in those days, whereas you’re safe here. Who do you think you need to defend against? Seephinia? The river people? Or maybe you just don’t trust me?”

His intent look made me uncomfortable.

“Mind if I take another look at this peculiar weapon?” he asked abruptly.

Before I could refuse, as he must have known I would, he took the bow from me. Having it plucked out of my hands and seeing it in those of another produced a sharp, unexpected ache inside me and it was all I could do not to snatch it back immediately. But I resisted the impulse and, feeling like an anxious mother wolf watching her pup being sniffed over by a stranger, allowed Hadrian to examine the weapon. He handled it with great care, tracing his fingers along the carvings on the golden-hued wood and remarking on the workmanship. I was pleased he appreciated its uniqueness even as I worried he might admire it too much and decide he wanted it.

“This weapon is a fascinating puzzle,” he told me. “The arms are smooth and unworn by handling, as if it were created only yesterday. Even the color of the wood is fresh and new. Yet when I hold it, I sense great age and could almost believe the thing is ancient. And these runes confuse me. I originally thought they were in the old tongue, but now that I look closer, I see they’re Skeltai, the tongue of your ancestors and their descendants across the border. Yes, it’s definitely Skeltai, but a very old dialect, which I don’t think many could interpret today.”

“But you can?” I asked eagerly.

He smiled. “You are very interested.”

“I’ve often tried to guess what they say,” I admitted.

“Then we’re fortunate I was obsessed with ancient dialects when young and spent years amassing such impractical knowledge,” Hadrian said. “These differ from what I know of the ancient Skeltai alphabet, but there’s enough similarity I can decipher most and take an educated guess at what I don’t recognize.”

He traced a finger along the runes as he read aloud. “
Power of death my master hath, let fly my arrows and loose my wrath
.”

He looked up, frowning. “That’s a rough translation, but Skeltai is so different from our language it’s difficult to pin down any closer. There’s a little more here, a short bit before and after what I read.” He indicated the lines with his thumbnail. “But I’m a little rusty at this and would need to dig out my old books to make sense of the rest.”

He changed the subject unexpectedly. “I don’t feel comfortable holding this object,” he said. “It doesn’t trust me. Perhaps you’d better take it back.”

I snatched it from him, hiding my relief at having it safe in my hands again. It seemed to me the bow preferred to be in my keeping. Maybe I had been unjust when I used to think it a cruel object, incapable of any but dark emotion. It felt peaceful enough now.

Hadrian was speaking and it took me a moment to withdraw my mind from the bow and focus on what he said.

“I don’t think there can be any doubt it’s a magical artifact,” he was saying. “The Skeltai are adept at contriving complicated enchantments and hiding them within everyday objects. I don’t claim to understand such things, but a mage might know more.”

“I thought you were a mage.”

“Me, a mage? Never, my young friend. I realize you’ve been left ignorant on subjects relating to magic, but surely even you know the difference between Natural and Trained magic.”

The look on my face must have spoken volumes, for he sighed and smiled a little. “I can see the time has come for a little elementary lesson. Let us set aside your mysterious bow for a while and talk magic.”

He took the bow from me and put it off to one side, shaking his head when I would have tried to take it back.

“Leave it, Ilan,” he said. “It will be there when we’ve finished, and I think our lesson will progress better without it. Its very nature is in opposition to what I want to teach you.”

Curiosity held me in check. “Is this the instruction you promised?”

“I don’t see when there will be a better time for it, do you?” he asked.

“I suppose not.”

“Well then,” he said. “To begin with, there are two distinctly different types of magic. It will be best if you separate them in your mind right away. The first is Natural magic, the kind some men and women have from the moment they are born and from which they could no more detach themselves than they could cast aside their own limbs. You and I, we have that magic and both of us have a particular aptitude in the area of life force and emotion. We can sense them in others around us—can even seek them out if we choose. Not all Naturals excel in these areas, but they’re the abilities I can teach you the most about because they are the ones we share. It’s easier for a fish to teach a fish to swim.”

“You said there were two kinds of magic,” I reminded him.

“The other kind is the Trained art of the mage,” he said shortly. “Trained magic is wrong and dangerous and that’s all you need to know about it.”

He had lost all traces of his usual good humor, his expression and tone leaving no doubt of his feelings on the subject, even if his words had.

“Seems to me I need to know something about a thing, if I’m to know how to avoid it,” I pointed out, rather slyly, I thought.

Hadrian sighed, a defeated sound that neither agreed with nor condemned my suggestion.

He explained, “Mages use a man-developed form of magic that allows those not born with the gift, those never meant to possess it, to bend it to their will nonetheless. This includes the use of incantations, potions, and the endowing of certain objects with magical powers. It’s what makes me uncomfortable with your bow. As an enchanted object, it’s fascinating, and yet we must never forget it was born of dark magic and may be tainted by the purpose of its makers. Such a weapon could only have achieved its life by the enchantment of one knowledgeable in the arts of the arcane. And one of the few things we know of the Skeltai people is that they are highly possessed of both forms of magic. This is probably why so many of their descendants on this side of the border are born with magical talent. You, for example, may have received more than your silver hair from your Skeltai ancestors.”

I focused on the bow, asking, “If it was made by Skeltai, how did it come to be here?”

Hadrian shrugged. “Possibly, we’ll never know. But I consider it unfortunate you and that bow ever crossed paths. I have an unpleasant feeling about it.”

“You mean because it was enchanted by a mage?” I asked.

Hadrian winced. “I think we’ve spoken enough of the Trained magic. It isn’t a subject any Natural feels at ease with.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I said. “Incantations and spells all sound very interesting. What exactly can you do with Trained magic that you can’t do with the Natural, anyway? Is it stronger?”

Hadrian scowled. “Neither is greater in strength, but the Natural talent is our birthright and the Trained skills are a foul distortion of what ought to be. There is no question which power is best and which is to be loathed.”

“Very much loathed,” I agreed, although I couldn’t see what he was getting so fired up about. “But of this unspeakably evil form of magic, what would you say might be its advantages?”

Maybe he caught a sense of my intent or maybe he just didn’t like this line of questioning, because he said firmly, “You will never dabble in the Trained arts, Ilan.”

“Never,” I agreed soothingly.

He appeared not to have heard. “If I should ever discover you doing anything of the kind…” His voice trailed off ominously and he took a long breath as if to get a grip on his emotions.

“I will not instruct you in such things,” he then continued, more calmly. “You would be hard pressed to find anyone who will. Even so, I’ll require one thing from you before my tutorage progresses any farther. I’ve no mind to teach you in the ways of magic, merely to see you use it for selfish purposes, and I don’t like to imagine the amount of power that could come of a corrupt blending of the two forms of magic. That kind of strength should not belong to any one person.”

His words quickened my heartbeat, but not in the way he doubtless intended. The word “power” kept ringing in my ears until it seemed it had imprinted itself on my brain. A familiar presence nearby echoed my excitement and with one hand I reached out absently to stroke my bow.

Hadrian was still speaking. “The price required in exchange for my instruction is this. You will give me your oath never to delve into any form of magic beyond the bounds of your Natural talent.”

I tensed when he spoke of price but relaxed now. I had no money, but an oath I could handle.

“Very well,” I said. “I give my word on it, as an outlaw of the band of the Red Hand.”

Hadrian’s mouth turned up at my relief. “Your word as an outlaw means very little to me, my young friend, and swearing on the honor of that scoundrel Rideon means even less. I want you to swear by something precious to you. Swear by Brig, that outlaw you were so fond of, and I will believe you then.”

He had me there. My mouth tightened and I heard how strained my voice came out, but I spoke loudly. “I swear on the memory of Brig that I’ll never explore any area of magic not first approved by you.”

He looked satisfied with that. His gaze became sympathetic. “I know it was painful for you to have your old friend brought up like that,” he said apologetically. “But it is for the best, for now I can trust you wholeheartedly.”

He stood and briskly changed the subject. “I think we’ve had enough of a lesson for one day. How would you like to come out and learn how the river folk load the stone from the quarry to ferry to the island? We’ll take a raft out to the lakeshore and maybe lend them a hand. What do you say?”

I followed willingly enough, but my thoughts were occupied elsewhere, and I spent the remainder of the day trying to figure out a loophole around my oath.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following morning I awoke to find Hadrian missing. He had left no message, at least none that Seephinia woman would relate to me, and had said nothing of going anyplace the night before. Still, I told myself as I stepped out of the hut, there was nothing to worry about. I was confident that, unlike the still unaccounted for Fleet, the priest was fully capable of avoiding trouble.

As if my thoughts had conjured him up, I found the street thief out behind the hut, soaking his feet in the lake. He told me he had already exchanged words with Hadrian, who had left at the dawn on a mysterious mission ashore, leaving no word of when he meant to return. Fleet thought it likely to be a while.

I fumed at the news. How would we ever find Terrac if everyone kept running off on personal errands? That reminded me of Fleet’s laxness of the day before, and I set about taking a full report of his activities now. As is turned out, his findings were nonexistent, unless you counted as progress a purse of purloined coins and a jade ring he had lifted straight from a merchant’s finger.

Disgusted, I went back inside, where I consumed a peculiar looking purple fruit I found set out on the table. I took a few gulps of lake water to wash down the stickiness, trying to ignore the brownish tint the water took on after sitting in a pitcher overnight.

Then, to make use of the free time I had on my hands, I stripped down and bathed myself off one side of the barge. It wasn’t easy finding a secluded spot for this and in the end, I had to settle for a very partial sort of privacy. But the effort was worth it, because when I pulled myself back onto the deck, the lake water running off me had a decidedly murky cast. Of course the lake hadn’t been so clean even before I crawled into it, despite its emerald appearance.