War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (5 page)

Symon was dozing in his chair by the fire when Karryl returned to the apartment. Deciding not to disturb him, he slipped quietly into his study. Leaving the door half open, he returned to the task of recovering the rest of the letters from the pages of Keril’s book. It would still be slow going, but nowhere near so difficult now he knew what to look for. With what he knew now, he was confident that, in the unlikely event of being unable to find some of the letters, an educated guess would probably suffice. It would then be a simple matter to retrieve the words which could lead him to the hiding place of the second artefact. An hour later he had, he believed, found them all. With a sense of accomplishment he placed book, parchment and medallion in a secret drawer to be returned to later.

Having heard no sound to tell him Symon was awake, he decided to go and start preparing supper. As he headed for the kitchen he noticed the fire had burned low. Symon was still dozing in his chair and looking, Karryl thought, decidedly pale. As he bent down to mend the dying fire he accidentally nudged Symon’s outstretched foot. The little magician didn’t stir. He gave Symon’s arm a gentle shake. Knowing that the little magician was a light sleeper, he expected some response. There was none. Karryl’s heart began to race as if it would burst through his ribs. Recalling what Mordas had taught him, he placed his fingers against Symon’s throat, a great gasp of relief exploding from his lungs as he detected a faint but steady heartbeat. His immediate thought was to relocate them both to the infirmary. Quickly rejecting that as being too risky, he looked around for the grey cat before remembering D’ta had gone away on some business of her own. Reluctant to leave Symon alone, Karryl nevertheless decided he had no option.

Not wishing to startle anybody, he chose to materialise in the deep shadow which filled an angle of the Infirmary’s exterior wall. He dashed to the door and flung it open. Fervently praying she would be there, he hurtled down the corridor to the little room Mordas used. Without pausing to knock he burst into the room. Startled, Mordas barely had time to draw breath before Karryl had barked “Symon!” and dematerialised. Needing no further information, the physician-mage snatched up her bag, crashed open a side door and pelted up the hill towards the palace, leaving a couple of shocked and bewildered nurses in her wake.

When Mordas arrived at the apartment, the door was standing wide open. She ran inside to find Karryl on his knees, chafing his old mentor’s small, slender hands.

Quickly she knelt beside him. “How long has he been like this?”

Karryl shook his head, his face a mask of dejection. “I’m not sure. He was in his study when I went out earlier. When I came back he was here, so I went and did some work for an hour. It was only when I saw the fire was nearly out and he hadn’t moved that I realised something was wrong.”

Mordas stood up. Leaning forward she stretched out her hands, slowly passing them over Symon’s sleeping form, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. With a deep sigh she straightened up.

Her eyes were troubled as she turned to face Karryl. “He is old and tired. There is little energy left in his body. Has he done anything or been anywhere recently that could have drained him so completely?”

Without going into detail, Karryl told her of the incident with the Assassin-Wraith, the trip into the mountains, and how it had been necessary for Lhoura to cast a spell to make Symon more comfortable. All the while he was speaking, Mordas kept her eyes on Symon.

When Karryl had finished, she nodded slowly. “It was too much for him, going into the mountains after such a traumatic experience.”

Karryl folded his arms and gazed fondly at the little magician who seemed somehow more old and wizened than he remembered. “He assured me that he had fully recovered. That’s why I agreed we should go. Obviously he wasn’t as fit as he led us to believe.” His brow furrowed. “He will recover, won’t he?”

Mordas touched his hand to reassure him. “Given enough time and a great deal of rest and care, he will; but not here. We must get him away from this environment. Somewhere that has little opportunity for him to work or study. For now, we must get him into his bed and comfortable. Then with your permission, I’ll make arrangements for him to stay where he can be properly cared for.” She smiled. “I think he deserves a little pampering, don’t you?”

Karryl returned the smile. “I do indeed, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy it no end. But, first things first.”

Purely for Mordas’ benefit, Karryl made a small gesture towards Symon’s chair. Without so much as a shudder it lifted about two hand-spans from the floor. With another gesture from Karryl, the chair spun gently round and drifted steadily towards Symon’s bedroom, Mage-Prime and physician-mage keeping pace beside it. Mordas darted forward to open the door, and Karryl guided Symon’s unconventional mode of transport into the room, setting it down beside the bed. They had just finished turning back the covers when a tremulous little voice brought them hurrying to Symon’s side.

The indomitable little magician’s grey eyes twinkled up at Mordas. “I hope you weren’t thinking of undressing me, my dear.”

Gently taking his hand, Mordas smiled. “Of course not. I had every intention of leaving you in your shift.”

Karryl crouched down beside him. “You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?”

As if imparting a secret, Symon leaned forward and locked eyes with Karryl. “I certainly feel better than I did earlier on. It would seem that some of the energy from the transportation spell you used has perked me up a little.”

Mordas perched on the edge of the bed. “Unfortunately, that won’t have a lasting effect. The only thing that’s going to do you any good is a complete rest, and I for one intend to see that you get it. Now, have you enough left to get yourself undressed and into bed?”

Surprisingly, Symon didn’t offer the expected argument. Instead, he eased himself out of his chair and shuffled a little unsteadily over to the window.

After pausing to take a little peek outside, he closed the curtains. “I’m sure I can manage, if you’d be so kind as to make an old man a cup of tea. Then when you’ve done that, perhaps we can talk about where would be the best place for me to recuperate.”

Mordas paused in her pillow arranging and looked hard at Symon. “Did you hear what Karryl and I were saying?”

Symon nodded. “Every word. I just found myself completely unable to move. It felt almost like an immobility spell, but there was a certain something lacking that told me it wasn’t. Now, I shall prepare myself for bed.”

Mordas settled the last pillow, signalled Karryl with her eyes, and the two left the room. As they headed for the kitchen, Karryl gave voice to his question. “What do you think happened?”

Slightly puzzled, Mordas shook her head. “The only thing I can think of is some kind of cataplexy, brought on initially by the incident with the Wraith.” She stopped in front of the kitchen door. “Once he returns from his rest-cure, I think it would be advisable to keep an eye on him. It’s possible he may never completely recover, but we’ll worry about that when, and if, the time comes. Now, while you’re relighting the fire, I’ll make the tea.”

With a little judicious cheating Karryl soon had a good blaze going, and by the time Mordas had brewed tea, the two magicians were engaged in serious conversation, Symon propped up against a veritable hillside of pillows, while Karryl availed himself of the temporary comfort of the armchair.

Mordas frowned at Karryl as she brought in the tea. “Try not to tire him out.”

She handed Symon a large mug of tea. “You can talk some more tomorrow, when you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

Symon’s round face registered his disappointment. “I thought we were going to discuss my recuperation.”

Mordas twitched unnecessarily at a pillow. “I’ve already thought of an ideal place. First though, I have to go and talk to Lady Evalin. If she agrees, you’ll more than likely come back feeling fitter than you have for years.”

The two magicians exchanged glances and Symon raised an eyebrow in query. Karryl grinned. “Can I go with him to...wherever it is?”

Mordas looked faintly disgusted. “That was very transparent Master Karryl, and no, you can’t. Maybe in another five hundred years or so, but not this time. Now, before I go, I’m going to leave this in the room.”

From her large embroidered bag which still lay at the foot of Symon’s bed, she drew something out and removed the dark blue cloth which concealed it. In the palm of her hand sat a huge teardrop crystal, flattened at its broadest end enabling it to stand upright.

Dozens of facets caught the lamplight in a rainbow of colours as she carefully placed it on the bedside table. “Let that stay there, and make sure it doesn’t get covered up with anything. I’ll collect it sometime tomorrow. Now, if you’re comfortable, I’ll be off. Goodnight, and sleep well.”

Symon nodded and raised his mug of tea to her as she hitched her bag onto her shoulder. With one final glance, she left the room, Karryl only a step behind.

As he held the outer door open for her, he asked one more question. “Do you think I ought to sit with him through the night?”

The tall physician-mage seemed a little distant as she answered. “That won’t be necessary. He seems quite stable, and I want the crystal to do its work. Goodnight Karryl. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Oh! Just one more thing. Symon will probably be sleeping by now. I put a little something in his tea.”

With that, she strode off down the long corridor which led towards the interior of the palace. Quietly closing the door, Karryl thought that Mordas had seemed a little snippy. He set about turning out lamps and settling the fire before going first to check on Symon, then heading to the kitchen for some supper.

The crystal had changed. Its once pristine clarity was now marred with streaks of grey and patches of dense black.

As Karryl moved towards it, Symon raised a cautionary hand. “Be careful not to touch it. Some essence of the Wraith had entered my body and the crystal has now assimilated it. Fortunately you seem to have been unaffected, but if you handle the crystal that essence may well transfer to you.”

Karryl prudently backed away and stood at the foot of Symon’s bed. “Do you feel well enough to join me in the kitchen for breakfast?”

The little magician patted his palms together as he beamed up at his tall companion. “I do indeed; especially as you’re doing the cooking. I’ll have a wash, and then I’ll join you.”

A few minutes later, while Karryl was turning potato cakes on the griddle Symon shuffled into the kitchen.

Wrapped in an oversize dressing gown, he sat at the large whitewood table and poured himself a cup of tea. “Have you made any progress with those letters in Keril’s book?”

Karryl nodded as he cut doorstep slices from a large loaf. “I have, but it was Master Gibb who gave me the answer.”

He then went on to relate the fortunate coincidence which led to the solving of the puzzle. “Now that I have all the letters I can make them into words and hopefully make a start on retrieving the artefact.” He carried on talking as he filled warm plates with grilled bacon and potato cakes. “One thing I haven’t got the answer to, is what do I do with the thing when I’ve found it? I asked the entity a couple of times but all I got back was silence.”

Symon spread butter on bread. “Perhaps when you find it, the answer will be with it.”

Once breakfast was over, Karryl floated Symon’s armchair back to its usual place by the fire. He had just settled him in it when the brass door-bell jangled briefly and Mordas called out “May I come in?”

Holding open the ante-room door, Karryl stood to one side as Mordas strode across the sitting room to peer into Symon’s face. “Your colour’s a lot better. I think I’ll go and have a look at the crystal.”

His curiosity aroused, Karryl followed her into Symon’s room, keen to discover how she would deal with the crystal. Telling him to stay by the door, she dropped her bag on Symon’s bed and drew out the dark cloth which had been wrapped around the crystal the night before. Standing well back, she studied the contaminated object for a while. It seemed to Karryl that the black patches and grey streaks with which it was now imbued, writhed and twisted in their glassy prison. Holding the large dark blue cloth at arm’s length she murmured an intricate cantrip as she stepped slowly forward, her voice growing steadily louder until, almost shouting the final word, she threw the cloth over the crystal. Returning to her bag, Mordas took out a soft pouch made of smooth black fabric with a metallic sheen. With her hand thrust inside it, she approached the covered stone. Using the pouch as a glove, she picked up crystal and cloth together. With her free hand she inverted the pouch, turning the metallic sheen to the inside. She then pulled the drawstring tight, wound it three times round the neck and knotted it.

She pushed the pouch deep into her bag and gave an assertive nod. “There, that’s done. All that remains now is to destroy it. I think the empty hall where we had our practice sessions would be best.”

In an attempt to lighten her mood, Karryl gestured towards her bag. “I must say I’m impressed. That’s the first time I’ve seen that done.”

The attempt failed, as Mordas gave him a tired look. “It’s also the first time I’ve done it. It took me most of the night to locate a containment pouch, but I’ve been carrying the crystal round for years. Now I have to get rid of it. Then I have a meeting with Lady Evalin.”

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, Mordas strode out of the room and stopped in front of Symon. “You may think you’re back to normal, but I can assure you, you’re not. You’re going to need a lot more rest. I trust that Karryl will see you get it.” She reached down and patted the little magician’s hand. “I’ll come and see you later this afternoon.”

Symon was unable to disguise a look of amused tolerance as he acknowledged her remark. “Thank you, you’ve been most kind. Er…how will you dispose of the crystal?”

Mordas tightened her grip on her bag as if she suspected Symon might want to steal it. “I shall attempt to create a resonance that will shatter it. If that fails then I must find a way of getting far out to sea and drop it overboard. Now, I have to hurry. Remember what I said.”

By the time she had reached the anteroom she was almost running. The two magicians winced as the outer door slammed shut behind her.

“Definitely snippy.” remarked Karryl.

“I’m inclined to agree.” replied Symon.

* * *

While Symon settled down by the fire with a cup of tea and a book, Karryl applied himself to writing out the words which would hopefully lead him to the second artefact, the one Slanvir had called ‘the Navigator’. As he worked, he wondered what the islander and his people would make of all this, and made a promise to himself to return sometime and tell them the full story. It took no more than a few minutes to write down the words. As he studied the cryptic result, he felt nothing but admiration for the legendary first Mage-Prime.

After making as much sense of it as he could, Karryl picked up the word-covered parchment and took it into the sitting room to show Symon. The little magician was intrigued as he read the words Karryl had copied.

no steps are there into my place but downward steps are nine to find within a lattice ward bound by a candles time

mind what is written there will fade dark sighted eyes will see old bones descry as low they lie awaiting what must be

“It would seem that Master Keril has set us a riddle to solve, although, as you say, some of it speaks for itself.” He sat thinking for a while, eyes closed and forefingers against his mouth.

Eventually he looked up. “I wonder what ‘candle’s time’ he means. A one hour candle would mean you’d have to work rather quickly to undo a lattice-ward in the time.”

Karryl started to pace the room. “It’s not the undoing of it that’s the problem. It’s finding the foundation threads, then working out which direction it’s been woven in. But, all that aside, have you noticed the biggest problem of all?”

Symon held up the parchment and sat peering at it, long enough to read the entire riddle slowly.

Karryl paused in his pacing and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Well?”

Symon looked slightly alarmed. “We’ve no idea where it is!”

Karryl banged his fists together. “Exactly. All we know of its location is that it’s under the palace, and we can’t dig down to it because it’s protected by a lattice-ward.”

Symon chuckled. “And His Majesty’s ire.”

Karryl returned a wry smile. “Yes; that as well. So, we have to find an entrance somewhere near the palace. It might even be
in
the palace.”

Inspired, Symon’s grey eyes twinkled as he raised a finger. “You know the approximate position of the artefact itself. Why not work backwards?”

The young magician thought for a while then shook his head. “We’ve nothing to tell us which direction to go in. Also, is it nine steps just to the lattice-ward, or nine steps to the artefact itself? And where do the ‘old bones’ come into it?”

He started pacing again while Symon closed his eyes and folded his hands, obviously giving the matter some very deep thought.

Karryl’s voice broke into his reverie. “I think I’ve got it.” He crossed the room and sat down in the armchair opposite Symon, elbows on knees. “When I located the artefact back in ancient Vellethen I detected the strength of the warding, but it was D’ta who confirmed it was down there. I think that means that the lattice-ward is more than likely a circular one surrounding the artefact. What do you think?”

Symon tilted his head as a little smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Carry on.”

Karryl took a deep breath. “So-o-o-o, if I mark out a circle eighteen steps in diameter with the artefact at its centre, somewhere on the edge of that circle should be something that looks like an entrance.”

Symon raised an eyebrow. “As a theory it works pretty well. But the riddle says ‘
downward steps
are nine’. I understood that to mean it was nine steps deep. But it doesn’t say how far away from the entrance it is. For all we know the entrance could be under our feet! No. We’re going to have to look at it again. We’ve missed something. If you go and make us a cup of tea, I’ll have another look at it. Perhaps something will suggest itself.”

A little disconsolate, Karryl headed for the kitchen while Symon picked up the parchment and began to study the riddle yet again. He was looking very smug when Karryl came in with the tea-tray. “I think I may have solved it; at least the problem of finding the entrance.”

Karryl put the tray down on a side table, the tea instantly forgotten. Symon’s eyes twinkled as he raised a finger as if to impart some profound knowledge. “The first part says ‘no steps are there into my place’ so naturally we assumed it meant the place where the artefact was actually hidden.” Karryl nodded and waited.

Symon patted his palms together as he warmed to his subject. “Suppose instead, that it means Keril’s place. If the place where Keril lived had no steps, all we have to do is discover whereabouts in the old city Keril lived.”

Karryl threw his hands in the air. “That was a thousand years ago! Until recently Keril was only a legend with no written record of his existence, so how …?” Realisation struck him like a hammer-blow and he dropped into the chair opposite Symon. “I was
in
the Vellethen of a thousand years ago. It’s more than likely I walked past the house where he lived!”

Symon tilted his head to one side. “Well. You’re the one with total recall. What did you see?”

Eyes closed, Karryl cast his mind back to the streets of the ancient city. One by one he recalled the buildings he had passed as he made his way up to the hill where Vailin’s palace now stood. Even then he almost missed it. At the time, he had given the house set back from the road little more than a cursory glance. He was in danger of doing the self-same thing again. Now, something about it caught his eye, something which had not registered at the time but had nevertheless been captured by his retentive memory. He knew his search was over.

As he opened his eyes it was all he could do to stop himself from imitating Symon and patting his palms together. “I think I’ve found it. Now, at least I know where to start looking. I expect the place has been altered a lot, but hopefully the original foundation will be there, like many of the buildings in Vellethen.”

Symon raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ll need any help?”

Karryl grinned. “If you’re thinking of offering your services I’d advise against it. You know what Mordas told you. Speaking of Mordas, I wonder how she’s getting on with destroying that crystal.”

The little magician looked pointedly at the forgotten tea-tray. “Well, perhaps after you’ve made some fresh tea, you can go and find out. I’ll be alright here. It’s not as if I’m an invalid.”

Looking suitably contrite, Karryl picked up the tray and headed back to the kitchen.