Shadowmage: Book Nine Of The Spellmonger Series (22 page)

“Why steal, if you don’t need the money?  Honest question,” Rondal explained, anticipating a defensive response.  “I make no moral judgments; one can make a fair case that a knight is merely an ennobled murderer.  I’m just curious.”

“It’s not
about
the money,” she said, after some thought.  “We have plenty of money.  And estates.  And other enterprises.  Far more than we need to make us comfortable.  But the bulk of those resources are quietly hidden.  Stored against need in our most secret vaults.  By continuing to learn and practice our Art, we ensure it is never truly needed, or if lost, could be replenished as a matter of filial duty,” she said, authoritatively. 

“So it’s about the purity of the art,” nodded Rondal.  “That makes an odd kind of sense, actually.  A colleague of my Master, Master Cormoran, is accounted by some the finest magical bladesmith in the Five Duchies . . . yet he sought out the most backward, primitive place in the Duchies to practice his art when he could have made a fortune in one of the capitals.  Because he’s devoted to it, first and foremost.  The same is true with Master Olmeg, a green mage back home in Sevendor,” he reflected.

“You know a lot of different kinds of magi,” Gatina noted, glancing at him frequently as she coaxed the team of black horses along.   “I’ve really only met shadowmagi, a few thaumaturges who were boring as three hells, and a couple of superstitious hedgemagi.  It must be incredibly fulfilling to know so many different kinds.”

“Oh, yes, Sevendor is an authentic Mageland,” he boasted.  “The Spellmonger lives there, within a pure white castle, under a pure white mountain, the entire thing made of snowstone.  A magical mineral, unique in all the world,” he added, knowingly.  “Such a place attracts a great number of magi: enchanters, warmagi, brown magi, green wizards, hedgewitches, spellmongers, resident adepts from Remere . . . Lady Pentandra’s academic specialty was Sex Magic,” he said, immediately regretting it.

“Really?”
Gatina said, her brown eyes wide with interest.  “She sounds
fascinating!”

“Well, she’s your rightful Court Wizard now, apparently, so I suppose you could request an audience – she’s quite pleasant,” he reflected.  His relationship with the mage was cordial, but Tyndal and Pentandra seemed very close at times. 

But he was suddenly very anxious about the idea of the pretty young shadowmage learning anything about Sex Magic.  The way she seemed to obsess about things . . .

“The key to the new order is irionite,” Rondal said, quickly changing the subject.  “When we started using witchstones again, and had nearly unlimited arcane power for the first time in four hundred years, it changed things.  And then when Minalan created snowstone - that reduces magical resistance in its vicinity,
really
useful stuff - and started inviting magi to Sevendor to study it, things started to get
really
interesting.”

“I can only imagine,” she said, enchanted.  “It must be incredible to be in the middle of all of that.”

“Oh, Tyndal and I are mostly on the edges of it all,” he said, realizing he was making himself sound more important than he was.  “We’re mostly involved in errantry.  For the Spellmonger, and now the Order.”

“That must be very dangerous,” she purred. 
Dear gods,
Rondal thought furiously to himself,
is there nothing I can say to this girl she can’t turn into a reason why I’m . . . attractive?

“It can be . . .” he admitted, swallowing.  “We’ve had our share of close calls.”

“Goblins?”

“Oh,
gods
, yes!  And trolls and siege worms and a couple of dragons--”

“Goddess of Night! 
Dragons?
” she asked, astonished.

“Uh, yes.  But I’ve never actually slain one,” he said, lamely.  “Our junior apprentice, Dara, helped kill one, though.  The head of our order is Sire Cei the Dragonslayer,” he added.

“What an adventurous life you lead, Sir Rondal,” she said, shaking her head in wonder.

“It’s mostly been a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time with the right people,” he decided, when he reviewed his life thus far.  “I could have gotten killed plenty of times.  Luck and the caprices of the gods are the only reason I’m still alive.”

She snorted.  “I’ve known plenty of ‘lucky’ men, and those whom the gods seem to favor against all reason.  None of them have seen a dragon with his own eyes and lived to tell about it.  It takes more than luck and piety to handle an adventurous life.  It takes spirit, honor, and commitment.”

“If you say so, my lady,” he sighed.

“I
do!
” she assured.  “I’ve read all the secret accounts of my ancestors.  Those who survived the biggest heists and greatest challenges may have been blessed and lucky, but they possessed an adventurous spirit, a sense of honor common thieves would sneer at, and a commitment to their vocations few priests could match.”

“And yet I am no thief, or if I am, not a very good one,” Rondal pointed out.

“It matters not; you are an accomplished
mage
,” she shrugged.  “Am I mistaken that you have your journeyman papers?”

“Well, yes, I do, but—”

“And did you not say that your mentor was none other than the Spellmonger, the most famous wizard in the land?”

“Yes, but he—”

“He does not,” Gatina pronounced, “according to all I have heard of him, seem the type to allow his apprentices to wander off half-trained and not notice.”

“Oh,
gods,
no!  He was
brutal
when it came to our lessons!  More than my first master, even!” Rondal said, horrified at the idea that Master Min was any kind of ‘easy’ master. 

“Once we got to Sevendor and he was able to focus on our work, it was one miserable problem after another.  He had me build a bridge -
by myself!
- while being harassed by a territorial squabble, one time!  When Tyndal was guarding Master Minalan’s intended bride at his home village, the poor haystack was forced to fight off a couple of Censors with
nothing but a pitchfork!
  He sent us to pick up a— an informant, one time, with our friend and fellow Sir Festaran, and we ended up fleeing from bandits and fighting our way through to an unfriendly castle, which we had to take on Yule’s Eve with just three knights!” he babbled, recounting his exploits.  He only barely noticed how large Gatina’s eyes were getting as he did so.

“That’s not even counting the times he’s led us into impossible battles!   Up the frozen Poros on a makeshift sledge pulled by magical hounds to face a hundred
thousand
goblins on a frozen lake – and then he unfroze it under our feet!  Into the teeth of the invasion of Gilmora to face a dragon and Cambrian!  Against a band of marauding goblins in the Wilderlands to rescue a Tree Folk refuge with only us, some half-trained militiamen and a couple of Tal Alon!  And we won’t even mention Timberwatch – I was at the top of a rickety old tower watching as he sent a godsdamned fire elemental into the thick of it! 
No,
my lady,” he said, regaining some composure after his outburst, “I would count my apprenticeship as anything
but
easy.”

“Well then!” Gatina said, blushing a bit under her freckles.  “It sounds like he has given you a life of adventure already.  So
many
challenges . . . and you survived every one.  With your honor, commitment and spirit intact,” she said, satisfied. 

Rondal realized too late what he’d done - she’d mistaken his genuine complaining for
boasting
, and decided for herself what it meant.

Rondal was strongly suspecting Ishi had it out for him.

“Gatina,” he said, heaving a sigh.  “I didn’t tell you all that to brag.  I told it to you to demonstrate that while I’m lucky to be alive, chances are that I won’t be much longer.  The life of a knight mage might be . . . adventurous, but it’s also dangerous.  Deadly.  I honestly don’t expect to live much longer, the way things are going,” he said, earnestly.  “If I had half a brain, I’d chuck it all, cuddle up to the first incredibly lovely girl who might consider it, and go find a village somewhere where no one could ever find me!”

“So . . . would
I
qualify?” she asked, slowly.  For a second, Rondal could see beyond the fake freckles and purposefully ugly wig, and Gatina’s deep purple eyes bore out at him . . . and into his soul. 

He didn’t know why he said it.  But his lips conspired with some other bits of his anatomy, totally bypassing his brain.  “I’d be a fool not to drag you away from this carriage this very moment, and proceed with that very plan.”

Something seemed to happen behind those eyes . . . and Rondal saw a young woman go from flirtatious infatuation to
falling in love
, right before his eyes.

Oh, shit!

“Then you are a
fool
, Sir Rondal,” she said, suddenly, surveying the road ahead.  “A fool to duty.  An idiot to honor.  A moron to--”

“Uh, could we skip the flattery?” Rondal asked.  “I’m starting to get a big head.  The reason I told you that was because you
can’t
want to marry me.  I’ll be long dead before Anguin ever sits in Falas.  Or even his descendents.  And destroy the Brotherhood of the Rat?” he snorted, despairingly.  “It’s huge criminal enterprise spanning dozens of cities, with thousands of unknown thugs and killers . . . as hopeless quests go, I picked a couple of
bad
ones.”

“The greater the heist, the greater the glory,” she said, like a proverb.  “I’m assuming the same goes for chivalric glory?  My love, if we must wait until I am old and wrinkled and you are stooped with age before we say our vows, then I shall count myself a fortunate woman,” she assured.

“You . . . you don’t have to do that!” he said, his eyes wide with terror.

“You are right – I can choose any mage I wish for my husband.  I choose
you
, and your impossible – well
, improbable
– quests.  That might change,” she conceded.  “Should you be slain on your adventures, or dishonor yourself, I might have to settle for another.  That would make me . . . well, let us not visit such a depressing prospect,” she sighed. 

“But there’s more to it than that, Gatina!” he said, thinking furiously.  “I’m going to be on errantry for the foreseeable future – with occasional bits of hopeless battle.  And there is no telling what fortune and duty will vomit into my lap.  I may have to . . . well, I might have to
seduce
someone,” he sighed, as ludicrous as the idea sounded coming from his mouth.  He found Tyndal’s spirit infecting his words.  “There’s always some dim maiden or disapproving aunt that needs distraction on these things,” he said, dismissively.  “We operate in many guises – surely you can appreciate that.  Some will require intimacies that a man pledged to a woman would be unable to fulfill,” he said, apologetically.

“Oh,
I
understand,” she assured him.  “I’ll have to kiss boys myself – it’s a key talent of distraction and evasion,” she said, with a shrug.  “The requirements of the vocation supersede our personal lives – I’m no idiot myself, my lord.”

“Nor did I mistake you for one, my lady,” Rondal said with a sigh.  He didn’t want to admit to himself how much the idea of Gatina kissing some dim-witted guard or corrupt magistrate in the pursuit of a heist bothered him, all of a sudden.  “I just wanted to ensure you were properly informed about the realities of my life.  And impending death.”

“Until you do die, then,” she said, “I will assume that your hand is reserved for mine, when your quests are fulfilled.”

“Even if it takes a lifetime,” he added, warningly.

She smirked, without looking at him - a strangely threatening expression, he noted.  “My lord, while prophecy was never extant in the magi of my house, I daresay that I can foresee your quests ending
much
more quickly with a secure alliance with House Furtius, the greatest thieves of Alshar.  We need not announce the details of the arrangement – Daddy would
not
approve, I think – and as a secret, our love becomes that much
more
precious,” she reasoned.  “Darkness, you may even, if at need, use me as an excuse on your errantry.”