Authors: David D. Friedman
"What does the number of girls have to do with it? You weren't assuming that only women would want to learn healing, were you?"
"I was, actually. Was I wrong?"
"Of course,” Coelus said. “Part of the point of what Olver taught us is that the same spells can be performed with more than one set of talents; you just have to work out the correspondences and go from there. The average man may not be as well suited to healing as the average woman, but some male mages have talent mixes that would work, and many more could do at least minor healing using reagents to fill in for the missing talents. I did the rough calculations last month, after spending some time with a very accomplished healer; my estimate is that almost a quarter of our students could learn a useful amount of healing—more than what war mages learn now. Of all the kinds of mages, healers are what we need most; think of how many people die each year because the nearest healer is a day's travel away, often more."
"I suspect that hiring a woman to train our male students, whether in healing or anything else, will be even less popular with our more conservative colleagues than hiring a woman to tutor female students. So we still have a problem. To which I think I have a solution."
"Other than forcing our colleagues to agree that two and two make four and that being healed is better than dying?"
"Forcing people to agree to things doesn't usually work very well.
"On the other hand,” Hal continued, “since being healed is better than dying, especially if you are the one who is dying, most of our colleagues would be delighted for the College to have a healer of its own instead of relying on Janis from the village or one of the handful of healing spells we happen to know. Three years ago, as you may remember, Bertram came close to dying before we managed to bring a sufficiently accomplished healer from the Capital to get his heart working properly again. Instead of hiring a healer as a tutor, we should get a healer to move to the village on retainer from the College … .
"Once there is a competent healer in the village, there is no good reason why she shouldn't tutor anyone who wants to learn healing. She wouldn't be called a tutor, at least not until more of our colleagues get used to the idea. What she was doing wouldn't count officially as a tutorial, but what matters is what students know, not what our records show. Your friend Ellen has been teaching some of the other students for the past year; Lady Mariel, at least, refers to their lunches as Ellen's
seminar
. It isn't on the College records, but that doesn't mean nobody is learning anything from it. If she wanted to do the same thing after she graduates … ."
Coelus shook his head. "Ellen wouldn't want to set up as a healer; it isn't really what she does. But I know a very accomplished one with the makings of a first rate theorist as well; I only wish the students in my class were as interested in learning what I have to teach as she was. I don't know if I can persuade her to come here, but if I could … ."
Hal considered how to put the obvious question tactfully. "It's none of my business, but you don't think Ellen would be uncomfortable if you brought another female mage here? You and she are obviously pretty close."
Coelus shook his head. "I don't think that would be a problem in this case."
* * *
"…and so, with gratitude for Your Grace's kind invitation, I must regretfully decline."
Dur added his signature, put the letter aside to dry. The regret was real enough, even if not, as Mari's mother would assume, for a lost commission. Almost fifty years since he had visited the Northfire and come away with its heart; it would be interesting to see its present condition. And no doubt there would be doings of note in Northpass Keep. As always, it was a temptation to meddle.
Most of a week each way in a coach as Master Dur, a week more in the keep itself, would be difficult and perhaps dangerous. If he was correct about what the Duchess wanted him for, the Prince would be there as well, a further risk. Better not.
But for the Northfire itself, he did not have to send his body; his mind would do. His link with the Salamander was stronger now than then; it should be safe enough. Dur considered the matter for a few minutes more before standing up from the desk and going down to his workshop.
It was nearly an hour later that he finally eased himself free and let the cold world wash back over him. The signs were clear. Something was happening under Fire Mountain that was no work of his. Something he had best deal with.
He would have to write Her Grace another letter.
* * *
A knock on the door; Ellen looked up from the paper on her desk, wondered what Mari could want; in another half hour they would both be at dinner. "Come in."
Mari opened the door, came in, politely averted her eyes from Ellen's unmade bed. Ellen laughed and said, "You have had servants to wait on you all your life; I have never had a servant. So why is it that you manage to keep your bed, and your rooms, so much neater than I do?"
Mari, used to her friend's random curiosity, considered the matter briefly before answering. "You grew up learning to do magic; I grew up learning how to run a household. As my mother pointed out to me long ago, you cannot get servants to do something properly unless you know how to do it yourself. That includes making beds, cooking dinner, sewing, and quite a lot of other things.
"What I wonder,” glancing around Ellen’s room, “is how you can have both such a messy room and such a tidy mind. But that isn't what I came to ask. Come visit us at Northkeep for Midwinter break. I can offer you my company, as much snow and mountain as you want, and a bath every day—the hot spring is inside the walls."
"A hot spring? Are there volcanoes? I've never seen one."
"One volcano, Fire Mountain; the pass goes by one side of it. But it's dead since long before I was born. An old man in the Keep told me that when he was a child he saw it erupt, but that must have been at least fifty years ago, probably more, assuming he wasn't just repeating a story he had heard. Still, you are welcome to investigate the volcano, as best you can without burning yourself up or freezing to death in the snow.
"And I expect my mother and father would enjoy meeting you. You might find meeting my father useful as well as interesting."
Ellen gave her a puzzled look. "Useful how?"
"Useful if you have to deal with the Prince, or Lord Iolen, or other powerful men. Kingdom politics is a complicated web; the more people you know the less power any one of them has over you. Speaking of which, I should warn you that the Prince will almost certainly be there too; I don't know what terms you and he are on at the moment. And Father asked me to invite Magister Coelus on his behalf, to help him and the Prince figure out what the Forsting mages have been up to all this time."
"It's tempting; let me think about it. Is Northpass Keep where you grew up?"
Mari shook her head. "I grew up in our lands, in the East. The Keep isn't ours; it belongs to His Majesty. Father just takes care of it for him."
"Why your father, and not …"
"One of the northern lords, such as Earl Eirick? You know the history of the succession troubles, that Anders was talking about the first time we met him?"
"Only the parts you have told me about; I don't think Northpass Keep came into that."
"During the troubles, Father kept as far from court as he could. Anders was right about that part, although I couldn't say so. Father got messages from both sides and ignored all of them. As it happened, the Castellan of Northpass was one of our people in the royal service. Father could see what was going to happen, so while the Princes and His Majesty feuded, he did everything he could to get Northpass Keep ready, spent money repairing the defenses, hired troops, recruited mages. When the Forstings decided we were close enough to a civil war for them to intervene they brought an army over the pass; the Keep refused to surrender so they laid siege to it. After a month they gave up and went home.
"His Majesty, who has more sense than his father did, decided it would be prudent to put that key to the kingdom in the hands of a lord more concerned with protecting Esland than trying to decide who was king. So Father tells His Majesty who he should appoint as Castellan and His Majesty appoints him; His Majesty pays the official garrison and supplies it, and Father provides whatever else he thinks the Keep needs.
"Anders is a fair sample of the Marcher lords. Prince Josep's wife, Iolen's mother, was from the north, and most of her kin supported Josep's claim. Nobody ever found out if the Forstings were coming in on their invitation, but His Majesty garrisons the Keep with his own people, not local levies."
An hour later, at dinner, the question of Northpass and the Forstings came up again, this time raised by Alys. "Isn't it terribly dangerous for you and your family to spend Break there? Everyone says there's going to be another war; if the Forstings invade you could end up trapped. And if they take the Keep … ."
Mari failed to react with appropriate horror.
"If they take the Keep, all sorts of terrible things could happen. But to take the Keep in midwinter they first have to learn to fly, which doesn't seem likely. That’s why our skirmishes are always in spring or summer; this time of year the pass is ten feet deep in snow and ice. It might be possible to get a few men on snowshoes over Northpass, but not an army. We'll be at least as safe in Northpass Keep as you will be in the capital, probably safer. After all, we have a garrison of loyal soldiers to protect us; you’re at the mercy of any passing footpad."
And with that, Mari turned back to her plate.
"Where do you hide a salamander?"
Durilil, his head resting in his lover's lap, looked up at the face inverted above him, marveled again at his good fortune.
"Why would I want to hide a salamander?"
Melia shook her head.
"Not you. One of the few things we know about the Elementals is that nobody has found one. And if Olver is right … "
"Any decent fire mage should be able to see the thing from ten miles away. Yes."
He thought a moment.
"If I were hiding a salamander, I would hide it in the biggest fire I could find."
He reached up, caught her hand, brought it down to his lips.
Now he was back where the search had led, directly underneath him the trailing skirts of the Northfire, its heart barely ten miles away. From where he lay he could smell sulfur in the air. It was probably why Duke Morgen’s residence was on the other side of the keep from the hot spring, bath house, and spare guestroom
s
above it.
Why he was installed there was clear enough; Her Grace, intending him as a surprise for her daughter, wanted him out of sight until the proper time. One of the chests he had brought contained cut gemstones, sample pieces, drawings, paper and pens, everything needed to design the jewels for a royal wedding. Over the next few days, if all went according to Duchess Gianna's plans, the Prince would propose to Mari, Mari would accept, the two would inform her father, and Gianna and Mari would set about planning the details of the wedding. With a jeweler conveniently at hand.
Of course, it might also have occurred to Duchess Gianna that a man of Master Dur's age would be glad of a warm room in winter, despite a bit of sulfur in the air. If so, she was correct. Any room occupied by Master Dur and his luggage was going to be warm, with or without a hot spring underneath it. There was much to be said for a room that people expected to be warm.
Which brought him back to his reason for being there, which had nothing to do with jewelry. Having come this far, he felt an odd temptation to finish the matter once and for all, close the circle. It would be easy enough to put the Salamander back where he had found it, to make the choice the Mage King had made at a still more advanced age. He wondered how the imperturbable Duchess would react to finding an impossibly aged corpse in her guest room bed.
He put the idea firmly aside; he had not come here to die. Not, at least, if he could avoid it. What he planned would require returning the Salamander to the fire's heart, at least for a little while, but if all went well … . He could not possibly retrieve it from a distance of ten miles, so he had to go too, if not quite all the way to the fire. It had been a long time, but he thought he could still find the way. If, of course, it was still there.
It was dark outside. The servants, having brought his dinner and cleared away what he left of it were unlikely to come again. Still, it was best to be safe; Durilil spent several minutes making sure that anyone who came to his door would pass it by. The lid of one of the two traveling chests was warm to his touch. Inside was a leather bag; he put the carrying strap over his shoulder, felt the warmth of the box inside it against his side. That done he wrapped himself in his cloak—he was already dressed in his warmest clothes—and left the room.
* * *
All Johan could see, looking out the postern gate, was snow, lit by the lantern hanging above him. With twenty or thirty miles of snow between Northkeep and the nearest Forstings, it was not entirely clear to Johan why the gate needed guarding. But he knew his duty. At least he could guard the lantern.
Suddenly, the lantern went out. Surely he had filled it before dark; perhaps a gust of wind had somehow gotten through the horn panes. He untied the lantern rope, let it run up through the pulley as the lantern lowered. He unhooked it. The guardroom fire was an entirely illicit charcoal brazier his superior officer, having stood watch himself in past winters, scrupulously failed to notice. It would do to reignite the lantern.