The Awakened Mage (51 page)

He smoothed a tangle of hair from her face. “I wish there was. What do your visions tell you?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Ever since I lay with Asher they’ve stopped coming and I don’t know why. I’ve never been so blind in all my life and it scares me.”

“Well,” Matt said slowly, “could be they’ve stopped because they’d led you where you needed to be. With him. Could be you’re right and Prophecy planned it all along.”

“For what purpose? How does me lying with Asher get us through the Final Days? They must be close now, for Asher’s revealed as our Innocent Mage. Oh, Matt, are you
sure
you don’t know anything?”

“Veira’s asked me the same question,” he said, “and all I can do is give you the same answer I gave her. There’s something amiss with the magic fluxes, but I don’t know how or why. It’s in the City, because as soon as I left there the uneasiness faded, but beyond that… If I went back I might be able to tell more.”

She tightened her arms around him. “No. You can’t go back. With Asher arrested they’ll want his friends next, and we’re his two closest. You’re safe here.”

“For how long?” Gently, he pulled away and began pacing. “There’s not a man, woman or child in all of Lur who’ll be safe when Prophecy’s finally fulfilled, Dathne, and your dreams become our reality. Our job’s not over yet. We still have to save this kingdom from destruction.”

“How?” she cried. “For that we need Asher and I can’t help him! Can you? Can anyone?”

“I can,” said Veira’s voice from behind them.

They turned. Stared. Dathne folded her arms about her ribs and held on tight. “How?”

Veira walked out of the forest fringe and across the cottage yard to join them, her brown wool trousers soaked to the knees and her stout leather boots mired in mud. In one gnarled hand she gripped an old tramping stick and at her heels snuffled two enormous mud-covered pigs, tame as dogs. Her wrinkled-apple face was grim.

“With heartbreak, and sacrifice, and a mortal lot of danger,” she said. “But we must act swiftly. I had word from the Circle last night: Asher’s appointment with the axeman is set for midnight Barl’s Day next”

Dathne turned to Matt. “I can’t believe the king is doing this. Asher’s his dearest friend!”

“If by the king you mean Gar then that’s more bad news,” said Veira. “Lur has a new king now.”

“Not Conroyd Jarralt?”

Veira nodded. “Yes.”

“Barl protect us,” said Matt, and rested his hand on Dathne’s shoulder. “There won’t be an Olken safe anywhere.”

“Only if we fail,” said Veira, grimly. “But if we are to save the Innocent Mage from dying and taking us all with him to the grave, you must do as I say without fratching. What’s to come will come. Must come. Prophecy demands it.”

Matt frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You’re not asked to,” Veira snapped. “Dathne, put these pigs back in then pen, child, and see they have a good breakfast. You, Matthias, fetch knife and bowl from the kitchen. Cut me two sprigs from every herb and planting in the last row of the garden there. Tie a strip of cheesecloth over your nose and mouth, be sure to put on gloves, and whatever your opinion of what you see and cut, keep it to yourself. Don’t bring the cuttings inside either; leave them on the ground beside the back door. When you’re both done, amuse yourselves in the kitchen by making soup for lunch. All the fixings are in the pantry.”

Bewildered, Dathne looked over at the herb bed. “Cheesecloth and gloves?”

Veira’s severe expression eased, just a little. “For precaution only. I’d not put Matthias in danger.” She pulled a face. “Not from herbs at least.”

As she stumped past them on her way back into the cottage Matt said, “And I like the sound of that even less.”

Troubled, Dathne nodded, watching as the cottage’s back door closed behind the old woman. “Nor do I. But we’d best do as we’re told, I think. Whatever it is she’s planning, it’s near torn her heart from her chest.”

Despite her village isolation and solitary cottage lifestyle, Veira kept her Circle Stones out of sight, in a hideyhole she’d dug beneath her bedroom floor and lined with discarded tiles from the village pottery. The neatly rejoined floorboards with their betraying finger holes for lifting stayed hidden beneath an old, fraying carpet.

Alone in her bedroom with the door safely closed and curtains drawn she rolled back the carpet, hoisted up the hidey-hole’s lid and leaned it against the bed. Forty Circle Stones winked up at her in the flickering lamplight, looking no more important than a random collection of pretty quartz crystals, a magpie’s playthings.

Forty stones, forty friends—no,
family
—forty oaths solemnly sworn. So few, to stand against the coming darkness.

She hunkered down beside the hidey-hole, grimacing as her knees protested. Rafel’s stone, a blue as pale as fresh-skimmed milk, drew her gaze like a magnet. She picked it up, cradled it in her palm and called to him. When he answered, tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s time.’’

For long heartbeats he said nothing. Then she felt him sigh.
When we heard of Asher’s arrest I thought it might be. He is the one, isn’t he? He’s the Innocent Mage?

She’d told no one save Gilda. Trust Rafel to guess the truth.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s him. Darling—”

Don’t say it.
She thought his smile might kill her.
You ‘re crying… and besides, I’ve had strange dreams.

“If there was any another way …”

Perhaps I wouldn’t have been born.

“We have little time,” she said through her tears. “You’ 11 need to meet me tomorrow where the West Road runs into the Black Woods Road on its way to the City. How soon can you get there?”

By mid-morning or not long after.

“You must invent some reason for leaving. Tell as few as possible and depart without an audience; say you go anywhere but to the City. Travel light and as fast as you can without drawing undue attention. Let no one see your sorrow.”

I understand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Tomorrow,
he said, still smiling, and out of love was the one who broke the link.

Some time later, after she’d won back composure, she again reached out to Gilda through the rich green stone that kept them in contact. Nearly ten long minutes ticked by before their connection was made.

Sorry, sorry,
said Gilda, flustered. I
was with a customer, I couldn’t get away.

“No matter, Gilda. My friend, I have a task for you. And not to plunge you into deep dismay I must say this: upon your success lies the future of our kingdom.”

The link between them trembled with Gilda’s uncertainty, then firmed again.
Of course, Veira. What do you need?

“I’m coming into the City for the execution and I need you to save me bench space for three beside you, right down the front. Directly before the block.”

Beside me?
said Gilda, faltering.
So close?

“Yes. Can you do it?”

Of course.

“Bless you, dear. I’ll see you before midnight this Barl’s Day.”

She replaced Gilda’s stone and selected another, this one dark blue-black.

“Rogan. I have a task for you.”

Rogan agreed without question, as she’d known he would. Next she contacted Laney Treadwell, whose family business was most useful, and finally she reached out to the ten best-placed and strongest magicians in the group, on whose shoulders she must place a heavy burden. Resolute, they promised to join her in Dorana and carry out their task.

Jervale bless them all. Without such staunch supporters she’d not have the heart to go on.

With all the arrangements in place, and tired almost beyond speaking, she replaced the last Circle Stone, the hidey-hole lid and the carpet that covered them. Eased herself groaning to her feet, and went out to the kitchen.

The soup was on the stove top, bubbling aromatically. Dathne and Matthias sat in silence at the table, each lost in private meditation.

“Please, Veira, what’s going on?” said Dathne,’looking up. “The herbs you had Matt cut for you—”

“Are deadly,” she said shortly. “I know it.”

Matthias stirred in his chair. “Then why do you need them?”

She moved to the kitchen window and stared out into the garden beyond, with its undisciplined winter roses and riot of ravenberries. “To serve Prophecy.”

“Serve it how?” said Dathne.

“I’ll keep my own counsel on that. The less you know, the better. At least until you must.”

“And who decides when that is? I’m not a child, Veira, whatever you like to call me! I’m Jervale’s Heir and—”

“And you’ll learn to follow another’s instructions!” she snapped, turning away from the window. Then, seeing Dathne’s strained and peaky face, seeing the fear imperfectly smothered, she softened. “Child, child—for that’s what you are to me, married lady or not—stop fretting on things you don’t control. We’ve enough worms in the apple without you making room for more.”

Dathne looked to Matthias, who shook his head and ventured a brief smile. “No fratching, remember?”

Defeated, Dathne slumped. “All right.”

“Good,” Veira said briskly, and moved to the stove. “Now let’s eat.”

Afterwards, once the soup had been consumed in silence and Matthias was sent outside to check Bessie, her shoes, her harness and the rackety old cart, Dathne turned her hand to washing dishes.

“I’m not fratching, truly,” she said, her hands in soapy water. “I just wish you’d tell me who those herbs are for.”

Veira sighed. Letting the dish towel dangle from her fingers she said, “No one you know, child. I promise.”

“But someone you know?”

Grimly, she held her tears below the surface. “Yes. Someone I know.”

“Then let me brew the potion.”

Oh, it was a tempting thought. Kind and loving too. “No,” she said, and touched her hand to Dathne’s shoulder. “Though you have my thanks for offering.”

Mettlesome as always, Dathne took the refusal as criticism. “I am capable! I have more herb lore than—”

“Herb lore has nothing to do with it. No woman with child should touch those cuttings.”

Shocked silent, Dathne stared at her. Pulled her hands from the soapy dishwater to flatten them against her belly and press, softly. “With child? What do you mean?”

Veira snorted. “I’m old, child, not blind or deaf or stupid. I might not’ve birthed my own but I’ve done my share of midwifery over the years. There’s a look a woman gets. And I felt something different in you too.” Then she sighed. “You didn’t realize?”

Dathne shook her head. “No. At least… I wondered … for a moment… but I
can’t
be. We only lay together twice and I took precautions both times.”

“Then could be Prophecy had other ideas.”

“Why? What good can come of
this?
”

Veira reached for another plate to dry. “There’s always good in the birth of a baby.”

“When our world’s about to end in flood and fire?
How?”

“Perhaps to remind us not to give up so easily.”

“I’m not giving up!” said Dathne, stepping back. Soap suds dripped heedless to the floor. “I’m lost! I’m frightened! I used to trust myself, trust Prophecy, to believe I was given what I needed to prevail! Instead I’m a fugitive and the man I was born to guide and protect awaits his death. And now there’s a
baby?”

The child was losing hope. Time for a little sharp prodding. “In other words you
are
giving up.”

Dathne turned away. “Perhaps I am,” she whispered roughly. “Perhaps it’s the best thing I can do for all of us. Give up. Walk away. Leave his fate to those who’ve not made such terrible mistakes.”

“I doubt that’s best for Asher or his babe,” said Veira, and put a snap in her voice. “You’re Jervale’s Heir, Dathne. You cannot walk away. And besides, who amongst us has never made a mistake? Not me. Not Matthias either. Making mistakes isn’t the problem, child. It’s not doing our best to fix them after that leads to ruin. And we don’t know there’s been any mistakes. Could be all of this is what Prophecy planned from the beginning.”

“Then Prophecy should’ve thought of a different plan!” Dathne retorted, flushing with temper. Then she turned back to the sink, seeking refuge in housewifery. “You haven’t told Matt about this, have you?”

Raising an eyebrow, Veira held out her hand for the next dripping bowl. “Could be he already knows. Handled enough pregnant mares in his time, hasn’t he?”

“Well, he hasn’t handled me!”

“Peace. I’ve not told him, child,” she said gently. “And I won’t Time and your belly will tell him soon enough. And he’s got himself a full plate already, I’m thinking. I don’t need to force-feed him anything more to chew on.”

Dathne nodded, frowning, and reached for the soup pot to scrub. “We’re going back to the City, aren’t we?” she said after a moment. ‘To try and rescue Asher.”

Well, not “we.” But she was too tired for more arguments, at least right now. So instead of telling Dathne the truth, she said, “Yes. Later tonight, after dark. But there’ll be no trying about it. The Innocent Mage will be rescued … and Prophecy will continue.”

Asher was dragged from a wonderful dream of Dathne by the sound of banging hammers. Cursing, he rolled painfully onto his other side, closed his eyes and tried to recapture sleep.

She’d been in a green and sweetly smelling place, her fragrant hair unbound, her thin face ht with a smile. There were trees all around her, and pigs, and hens.

He opened his eyes.

Pigs
and
hens?

Barl bloody save him. He was finally going mad.

With some of the novelty worn off, enough of the crowd had returned home or to their temporary lodgings in the City’s hotels and hostelries for him to see what all the hammering was about. Brawny palace staff were building a dais on the left-hand side of the Square.

Ox Bunder, condemned to guard duty, noticed him noticing and leered in typically unfriendly fashion. Probably he was grudging because now he’d never get paid that three trins owed to him from their last game of darts down at the Goose.