The Dragon of Trelian (26 page)

Meg stared numbly at her sister. She wanted to shake her. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to think. Throwing a tantrum was not going to help. “Morgan, please listen,” she said at last. “I know this is hard to believe. I didn’t want to believe it either. But I swear it is true. Maerlie’s life is in danger. I fear that if we wait, you’ll have the proof you seek when Maerlie is found dead the morning after the wedding.”

Maurel suddenly ran to Morgan’s arms. She was crying. The older girl stroked her hair gently and glared at Meg. “I don’t want to hear any more about this tonight,” she said quietly. “Mother and Father will be home tomorrow. We can discuss it then. For now, I want you to go to your room and get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry to have upset Maurel, but that’s not —”

“Meg, I mean it. Go now.” She made her voice kinder. “You’ve obviously been through a terrible ordeal. And I’m not discounting your story. But I have to do what I think is best, and for now, that means waiting. If you’re right about Sen Eva and Wilem, then we still have time. The wedding is still two days away. There’s nothing to be gained by rushing to act now. Please. I’ll send for a bath to be brought up to your room, so you can wash and then rest.”

Meg swallowed the rest of her objections. Morgan was not going to budge. “Fine,” she said, defeated. She started toward the door. “Please send for some food as well.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. “And Meg . . .”

Meg paused, her hand resting on the door.

“I’m glad you’re safe. We were all so worried about you. I’m sorry we argued; you know I love you, and I’m so relieved that you’re all right. I just have to do what I think is best. I think if you were in my position you’d do the same.”

Meg nodded. She spoke without turning around. “I know. I’m sure you’re right. We’ll talk more in the morning, after I’ve had some sleep.” She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the sounds of Maurel’s soft crying and Morgan’s gentle, reassuring whispers.

When she reached her rooms, Meg opened the door and dragged herself inside. She was so tired. But there was no time to rest. The serving maid would soon arrive with her bath. Just for a moment, she closed her eyes and slipped deeper into the link, letting Jakl’s comforting presence surround her. He felt tired too, and no wonder. She’d have to ask Calen if he’d figured out exactly how far Jakl had flown. Usually the dragon’s energy buoyed her up without her even having to think about it, but he was clearly at the end of his reserves. Well, she’d just have to rely on her own strength for a while.

Meg sat at her desk and began to write. Once the note was ready, she folded it carefully and marked it with her seal. Then she walked over to her bed and slid the paper beneath her pillow.

She would take her bath, and she would eat whatever they brought her — it would be foolish not to eat some more now while she had the chance. After that, though, she would tell the maids she was tired and ask them to leave. And then she would go find Calen.

If something — happened, if she did not return, someone would find the note eventually. She hoped her parents and her sisters would understand her reasons for doing what she was about to do.

“I’M NOT SURE YOU REALIZE THE
seriousness of this accusation.”

Serek spoke calmly, as if they were discussing a lesson or an approaching bit of bad weather. But then, Calen reflected, Serek was always calm. Often it was infuriating, but at the moment Calen was glad of his master’s lack of emotion. It made the situation seem slightly less awful, as if it were only a challenging mathematics problem instead of a sickening snarl of treason and murder and giant flying monstrosities gathering in the wilderness.

“An unmarked mage is an aberration,” he went on. “If informed, the Magistratum would strip her of her abilities, if they did not simply destroy her.”

“They can do that? Take away her abilities?”

Serek arched an eyebrow. “The Magistratum can do a lot of things. And yes, that is one of them. The method varies, of course. A lesser criminal might only have a ward placed on him, which would alert the council if he attempted to so much as light a candle. A mage who not only hid her power but also used her magic to deceive her patron, not to mention to kill an apprentice . . .” Serek shrugged. “If she didn’t die resisting judgment, she might have her ability seared out of her by a circle of more powerful mages, or maybe her mind altered, rendering her too simple to cast a spell. There are several possibilities.”

Calen swallowed. He had never heard any of this before. “Of course, she didn’t actually kill me.”

“No,” Serek agreed. “Not yet, anyway.”

They were seated in Serek’s dim study. Serek was at his desk, where he had been when Calen returned earlier that night. Calen was perched on the edge of a table. The chair across from the mage was occupied by Lyrimon, and Calen was too tired to fight him for it. As they talked, Calen fished black olives out of a jar and ate them. He had never cared much for olives, but he was so famished that he would have eaten almost anything at this point, and all Serek seemed to have on hand was jar after jar of olives. Perhaps, once he’d finished the current jar, he’d try some of the green ones.

He hadn’t known what sort of welcome to expect when he’d first slipped through the study door. Would Serek be angry? Worried? Indifferent? Undoubtedly he’d want a full explanation of where his apprentice had been. Calen had stalled in the hallway, staring at the tapestries and trying to think of how to explain what had happened. Meg and Calen had agreed that he should tell Serek everything; it was just a question of figuring out how to begin. Finally he’d given up trying to plan it out. He was too hungry to think, anyway. He’d opened the door and walked inside.

“Ah,” Serek had said, looking up from his notes. “You live, I see.”

Same old Serek. Calen half expected the mage to go right back to whatever he’d been working on, dismissing him, or perhaps to direct his attention to some chores he’d missed while he was away. But Serek had placed his papers carefully to one side of the desk and sat back in his chair, looking at him expectantly. Calen had walked toward the other chair, saw that it was occupied, then made for the table instead, grabbing the olive jar on the way. And then he’d said, “Sen Eva Lichtendor is an unmarked mage and a traitor, and she and her son are planning to kill Princess Maerlie on her wedding night.”

After that it had been easy to tell the rest. Serek had listened silently, only asking questions here and there for clarification. His mouth had twitched slightly when Calen confessed to sneaking into the library to read about dragons, but that was all. And now he was calmly discussing Calen’s possible death at Sen Eva’s hands and the possible awful things the Magistratum would do to her if and when she were caught.

“Well,” Serek said finally, pushing his chair back from the desk. “First things first. How certain are you that the woman is a mage? Is there any chance you could have been mistaken?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” Calen said.

“And you’re sure she was trying to kill you? You did only end up transported, after all. How do you know that wasn’t her intention all along — to simply send you away?”

“Well for one thing, she had just been discussing killing us. Or me, at least, although I suspect she had already decided to kill Meg also. But beyond that, I saw the spell as she was casting — it was deep red, like the spell for killing weeds, only much stronger. Or the spell you used on that soldier, that first one who was attacked, when you were trying to burn out the poison. Only this was darker, and . . . worse, somehow.” Calen shuddered, remembering.

Serek had stopped and was looking at him intently. “You saw the spell?”

“Yes,” Calen said, confused. Hadn’t he just said that? “I didn’t immediately recognize it, of course, since it never occurred to me that she could cast. But once I realized what was happening, it was unmistakable.”

Serek was still staring at him. It was unnerving. Had he said something wrong? “Why?” he asked. “Isn’t that what red energy does? I could have sworn —”

“And then you crafted a spell in return?”

“Yes.” This was so odd. He’d never had to repeat anything for Serek before. The man remembered everything. In precise detail. “I know I’m not supposed to experiment, but under the circumstances . . .”

Serek waved that away. “How did you decide what spell to cast?”

Calen shrugged. “Well, like I said, I didn’t know what I was doing. I saw that red energy coming at us, and there was no time, and I was desperate to stop it from reaching us. I didn’t think; I just reacted. Blue energy just seemed right, somehow, as if it could help to block what she was casting, quench the fire — I don’t know.” He fell silent. Serek was frowning. Calen waited, knowing better than to interrupt his master when he was thinking. He couldn’t be angry, not when Calen had just been trying to defend himself, not to mention Meg. What else could he have done?

Serek seemed to have come to some decision. He stood up. “All right. Let’s try something. Watch and tell me what you see.” He pointed at an unlit candle and sent a small pulse of yellow energy to the wick. It blossomed in flame.

“You lit the candle,” said Calen.

“Brilliant,” Serek said. “What did you
see
?”

Oh. “Yellow energy, just a tiny blob of it. You sent it to the wick, and the wick ignited.”

“A blob.”

“Well, yes. What would you call it? It didn’t really have a shape; it was just a small amount, but it was thicker than a line.” This was no time for a vocabulary lesson. Besides, it wasn’t Calen’s fault that Serek had never taught him the proper terms for such things. “I don’t mean to question you, but do we really have time for this now? Maerlie’s life is in danger, and —”

“I need to determine something. By your own words, Maerlie’s life will not be in danger until after the wedding, so it seems to me that we do, in fact, have some time. Pay attention and continue.” He thought for a moment and then looked at the skull on the edge of the desk. There was a faint, silent burst of purplish fog. The skull vanished and then reappeared on the table beside Calen. Calen’s mouth fell open.

“You transported the skull! That’s — I thought that wasn’t —”

“As you have begun to discover, there are many things I have not yet taught you. Traditionally, apprentices are led to believe certain things are impossible until they are ready to learn them. It prevents them from attempting spells on their own that are beyond their abilities and potentially dangerous. Tell me what you saw.”

“Violet, I think. It was very faint. Sometimes it’s like that — until recently I had to sort of squint and look sideways to see anything at all. Now most of the time I can see the colors without even trying, but that one was difficult. If I hadn’t been staring right at it, I might have missed it. Is that normal? Does it have something to do with how well I know the spell being cast?”

Serek didn’t say anything. He was thinking again. Calen sighed and waited. This was all very interesting, but he couldn’t understand why Serek was wasting time on lessons when he should be doing something about Sen Eva. She was a threat to the kingdom, and as King’s Mage, that was supposed to be Serek’s primary responsibility. Plus she was unmarked, which had to mean there was something Serek was supposed to do, some way to alert the Magistratum, so they could come and do whatever they were going to do to her.

Calen dug another olive from the jar and chewed it thoughtfully. He had hoped Serek would know exactly what to do, that once Calen told him what had happened, he would go to the king and queen and make some recommendation and everyone would leap into action and disaster would be averted. They would stop Sen Eva and find a way to fight the monsters in the woods, and everything would be all right again. Maybe he and Meg would even be regarded as heroes, with a big celebratory festival. After the wedding, of course. He tried to imagine what it would be like. Lots of food, to be sure, and dancing, and he and Meg would get to stand up before King Tormon and Queen Merilyn — no, not just them, but the royal family from Kragnir, too — and they’d get medals or something, and everyone would applaud. And even Serek would be proud of him, standing silently to one side, trying to maintain his usual stony expression but unable to hide the pride he felt in his young apprentice. It would be like that time Calen read the spirit cards, and Serek had been surprised and impressed. . . .

Calen stopped chewing. The spirit cards.
This
must be the terrible danger they were predicting. It had to be. He tried to think back. Had they indicated what must be done to avoid the danger? Not everything had been clear to him, but even Meg had said that some of the readings implied there was a chance. Could they do another reading? Would it help them figure out what to do?

“Do tell me what it is that races so forcefully through your mind that your jaw has ceased to work,” Serek said dryly.

Calen closed his mouth and sucked the rest of the olive from the pit, which he then added to the growing pile on the tabletop beside him. He looked at his master. “Is this what the spirit cards foretold? Sen Eva’s plan?”