‘Not all these creatures are demons, and I believe it is your job to stop any mage who even contemplates summoning one of them into our world. They are incredibly dangerous once they cross
the divide. There are tomes at the college that concern this subject as well as others in the universities in Tanaren, but the ones at the college are kept under lock and key by the Grand Magister
and Sir Benedict, the head of your order on the island. They both hold half of the key, so one cannot open it without the other. Needless to say, I have never seen these books.’
‘Why, by Artorus, would anyone want to get involved in such a thing if it is so dangerous?’
‘I do not know,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘The desperate or those seeking power might try, I suppose. If we sense a demon being drawn to us when casting, we have to
abandon our attempt at a spell for they will attack us immediately. If somebody can first summon and second control a demon in this world, then they control a sentient being of great destructive
ability. A demon cannot survive long in our world and to prolong its existence it has to feed on life energy. So for it to survive it has to kill and kill again. It will seek out mages first, as we
are more attuned to them and our power can sustain them for longer, but thereafter anyone is fair game. If a mage can control one and direct its killing power towards its enemies, then he is only a
little less than a god for the time that it lives. It is all hypothetical, though – the power and ability required to summon and control such a creature is beyond all but a handful of mages
that have existed since the colleges were founded hundreds of years ago. At least, this is what I am given to understand; as I have said, I have never read any demonological work and have no
intention of starting.’
Roland nodded gravely. ‘Yes, demonology and the control of mages who have such powers are a significant part of our teaching, or so I am given to believe. Thank you, my Lady; you have
given me much to think about.’
‘It was a pleasure, Roland. Now if you could stop the caravan for a minute while I go back inside, I would be most grateful. If I get any colder, you could snap me in two.’
She lay on her back on the couch. It was a horrible night with the rain spattering against the caravan, making it difficult for her to sleep. The dividing sheet was up but she could sense that
Marcus was having the same problems as herself.
‘Marcus,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ he replied languidly. So he
was
awake.
‘Was it really necessary to spy on me like that? I could sense it, you know; you using mana to hear what I was saying to Roland.’
‘Ah, but I knew that you would know that I was using it, so ‘‘spying’’ hardly seems to be appropriate in the circumstances. I am sorry for doing it, Cheris –
it was only for five minutes – but after your escapades in the city I had to be sure. I won’t do it again.’
‘He is hardly my type. You know I prefer older men. You are in more danger from me than he is.’
‘Then I consider myself duly warned,’ he laughed softly.
‘On a related topic, how are things with you and Gilda? I haven’t seen you two together for a while.’
‘Things are fine. We have been... um ... very close friends for longer than you have been alive. Just because you haven’t seen us in one another’s company for a while
doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong.’
‘Pfff, you older people!’ she snorted. ‘How can you be so dispassionate? If I had met the love of my life, I would want to spend every day in their company.’
‘You do know that strictly we are not allowed to have relationships, don’t you? Let alone marry. Discretion is a common-sense path to take sometimes, though that may be a difficult
idea for you to grasp – you wouldn’t know common sense if it came up towards you and hit you over the head with a brick.’
She laughed and affected a ‘grumpy old mage’ voice: ‘Oh, the impetuosity of youth! Why is it that wisdom comes only with great age!’
Marcus groaned and put a blanket over his head. ‘Go to sleep!’
Cheris continued to smile. ‘She is a nice lady, Gilda; you are very lucky to have her. It is very difficult trying to maintain a relationship without the knights noticing; the fact that
you have done it over so many years is a credit to you both.’
‘The fact that the knights turn a blind eye a lot of the time is more pertinent in this case, I feel. I hear that some of the colleges in Chira are a lot stricter and transgressions are
punished with imprisonment. I heard a story years ago about a mage couple who had a child. The child was taken away and exposed and the man was castrated. The girl was imprisoned and went mad. I
don’t know if it was true or not.’
‘By Elissa, that’s monstrous!’ she said. ‘Anyone could have an accident... I know we have ... ways of ending an early pregnancy but even so...’ She trailed off.
‘Did you ever want children, Marcus?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but even if we could conceal a pregnancy, we cannot conceal a child. It would have been taken away from us and sent to an orphanage, and monitored of
course for signs of the gift. If it did have talent, it would be sent to college a long way from our own. Gilda has been pregnant, you know – years ago – on a couple of occasions but we
had to end it. They were very sad times.’
‘I am so sorry; I didn’t know.’
‘It has happened to a lot of us,’ he replied. ‘It will probably happen to you one day. Don’t be tempted to keep it. Our college may be more tolerant but the prison is
there for a purpose. I don’t want to see you in there one day. Now go to sleep.’
The days passed and the caravan rumbled ever onwards through a land patchworked with hedge-enclosed fields, streams, copses whose leaves were turning ever browner, and the
occasional small village that usually consisted of nothing more than a few thatched cottages hugging the road, a tavern which would be the largest building present, and a small stone chapel, often
graced by a weatherworn statue of Artorus outside the porch.
Her conversations with Roland had continued. She had adopted an almost Marcus-like approach with him, that of a teacher with an almost maternalistic concern for her pupil. They had been
travelling for well over a week and were now only a couple of days from the river Kada, close to the war zone. She was sitting with him now, as usual, as he steered the horses.
‘Do any of you try and extinguish your talent,’ he asked, ‘so that you can join ordinary society? Is there a way to do this?’
‘Not that I have heard of,’ she said. ‘Actually, that isn’t true. I have heard of some fanatics who cut out their tongues or break all their fingers so they cannot cast,
but I cannot say whether this is true or not. And in the empire of Koze far to the south I hear they ‘‘experiment’’ on mages by doing unspeakable things to their brains,
leaving them unable to speak, but again I don’t know if this is true either. We are stuck with the way Artorus or Lucan has made us, I am afraid. Just as you cannot determine your hair
colour, the shape of your nose, your height, so I had no choice as to my ... gift, as Marcus calls it.’
‘Would you remove it if you could?’
‘Oh Roland, that is an impossible question. This has been with me all my life and I cannot imagine being without it. You adapt to your circumstances. The Isle of Tears is my home and that
is that. I am actually quite fond of the place. What is it?’ She saw him looking at her with a wary glance. ‘Some other question?’
‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It was something Sir Norton said but I cannot ask you about it.’
‘Why ever not?’ She looked at him with a pert smile. ‘Am I that frightening?’
‘No, but it is something a gentleman should not ask a lady.’
‘Now you have really piqued my curiosity,’ she laughed. ‘Come on, just ask it before I turn you into a rabbit.’
‘Very well,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘Sir Norton says that mages, when ... in the throes of passion, can lose control of their abilities and ... er ... set on fire the
object of their affections...’ He finished by staring fixedly to the ground.
This time she really did laugh, a high, musical sound that drew glances from the other knights. ‘Really! You don’t seriously believe...!’ She started laughing again.
He started smiling, too. ‘I take it that’s a no then.’
She calmed down. ‘A very big no, Roland. From what I have been told, we are no different from anyone else in that respect; however, it is possible to use a little electrical magic at
certain times during the act. It can be extremely stimulating for both parties. But I am letting on to mage secrets here; I had better be quiet. Hang on, what’s that?’
They had just turned northwards, the dirt path they were on circling a small copse which had obscured the view ahead. They were actually on the crest of a hill. In front of them the path dropped
gradually until it hit a broad flat plain dotted with fields and the occasional farm building. In the distance to the north, partially obscured by mist and crowned by low white cloud, lay a belt of
grey mountains, while to the east Cheris could discern a broad silver ribbon of a river, its course undulating this way and that until it finally passed them snaking off into the southern distance.
Some way ahead, maybe about five miles away, the river looped westwards towards a low sloping hill not dissimilar to the one they currently occupied and on the crown of this hill was a settlement
enclosed by a low crenellated wall. It had a gate in its western side from which a road ran. It was actually the same road they were travelling on; she saw it run like a bootlace from the town
until it eventually reached their position and of course continued ever onwards until it reached Tanaren City itself. Surrounding the town ahead, covering the hill and spreading into the river
valley below, were a motley collection of small, dark, irregular shapes, closely packed together .She asked Roland for clarification.
‘Yes, they are shacks and tiny one-room buildings fashioned out of wood, turf and sods of earth. This is Athkaril, the main destination for refugees fleeing the war. By all accounts there
is much friction between the locals and newcomers. We will not be staying there long. In fact, I think Sir Norton will camp soon and just drive through there on the morrow.’
‘How do they all make a living I wonder?’
‘Well, some of them have a trade which they can practise here, though they often get less than the going rate; others join the army to feed their families, and the rest, well, they just do
what they can to avoid starving.’
The following morning she saw that some of them were barely avoiding that terrible fate. A sense of growing unease led her to stay in the wagon rather than sit with Roland and, as they skirted
the hill Athkaril was built on and made for the bridge near its eastern gate, she was glad she had made that decision. Surrounding the dirt path to the bridge were these shacks she had been told
about; they could barely be called dwellings, fashioned as they were from whatever material came to hand. Many did not even have doors just a pulled-down piece of dirty cloth concealing a dingy
enclosed space containing whatever goods these people had managed to spirit out of their former homes. People sat outside the entrances in front of small fires heating their cooking pots. Many thin
ribbons of blue smoke trailed upwards to the sky.
The refugee village must have contained hundreds, probably thousands, of these buildings. Channels had been dug from the river to divert water to people’s homes but these had been long
clogged up with filth and rubbish. Cheris could smell the place even from her secure position; in high summer, she thought, it must be unbearable. Was there any city that did not have these
terrible places? Worse was to come, though, for as soon as they passed the first two or three buildings they found themselves swamped by children, their pale thin bony arms outstretched as they
begged for money. The filthy rags they wore, their large hollow eyes and thin pinched faces were just like those of the girl she had given money to in Tanaren. But she couldn’t give everyone
here a coin – there were dozens of them, pleading with the knights in their high, reedy voices. Eventually Sir Norton threw a handful of pennies into the air which landed behind them. They
immediately lost interest in the knights and dived on the money. There were fisticuffs and tears until finally the lucky few who had grabbed a coin or two ran off into the maze of buildings and
were lost to view.
Shortly after, they crossed the broad stone bridge over the sluggish river and gradually left that unhappy place behind. They were now in the Land of the Seven Rivers and their destination, the
camp of Baron Felmere, was only a few days away.
Cheris stayed in the wagon more frequently now. Roland had run out of questions for her and she could feel the tension inside her building up as their journey neared its end. Marcus helpfully
reassured her that she was definitely the junior partner here and would be kept out of trouble as much as possible, but this didn’t help her sleep, which was often troubled. A couple of times
she became aware that she was crying out loud in the midst of an uneasy dream; Marcus must have heard her but would never say anything the following day.
Three days out from Athkaril they reached the next river and the town of Tetha Vinoyen where the bridge was. While the horses were being watered, Marcus went for a stroll, accompanied by Sir
Norton, while she stayed indoors. She noticed here that people were more blase´ about the presence of magic among them. Despite Marcus sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb in his
bright-red robes, everyone else went about their business almost oblivious to him. When he returned to the wagon he seemed quite agitated.
‘The town here is buzzing! The city watch have spent most of the day fishing bodies out of the river. It appears there was a fight at the inn last night involving some bandits and a group
of Baron Felmere’s men. The bandits definitely came off worse. Some people are saying the bandits were Baron Vinoyen’s men; there is a feud between him and Felmere, you see. You will
pick up on all of this over the next few days.’