Warrior (The Key to Magic) (15 page)

Though masons had, within the last fortnight, begun repairs to the top of the North Tower, the highest storey remained unfinished and had yet to receive a roof.  As a consequence, the upper several floors of the tower had not been reoccupied.  Of all the palace, the tower's pinnacle provided the greatest buffer of space between him and the constant disturbance made both in his awareness and in the background ether by those who were linked to him via the Blood Oath.  It had thus become his preferred nighttime perch.

He came down near the stools and table where the masons sat to have their lunch.  He often lay upon the table to relieve the strain of his brigandine, but tonight he settled his back onto the wooden floor so that the half-completed walls rose up to limit his view to a defined circle of a few clouds, the stars in between, and the slightly off center waxing moon.

Rather than immediately focus on his stumps, he simply gawked at the stars and thought of Telriy.

After some time, he shook off this profitless revelry and began to weave the spells that created new flesh and bone.

Much later, an unfamiliar modulation clove the background ether nearby and he instantly shot up to a standing position to find Waleck's projected image a few armlengths away.  The image showed a different man this time, one wearing better clothes, one whose hair was perhaps not as gray, and one whose face perhaps not as lined.

"Where is Telriy?" Mar asked before the vision could speak.

"She is safe and she and your child are well."

"Tell me where she it."

"It had to be as it is, Mar.  Your path is now as it should be.  You will live."

"Where is Telriy?"

"You will know in due time.  This is all that I can say."

Mar smashed the image with a furious cascade of ethereal flux and it disintegrated into a shower of incandescent motes.

The old man did not try to appear to him again.

EIGHTEEN

Master Ghimrael, Ordeliea, and Master Tribiz presented Mar with the final models late on Fifthday afternoon.

Hovering, he slowly lowered his stubs into the padded thigh sockets while Ordeliea and her father, kneeling to either side, held the respective legs upright.  As he had perfected a spell that made the contraptions cleave to him, the leather straps of the previous design had been removed.  With his weight fully settled, he keyed the modulations that gave the legs life and nodded at the two woodworkers to release them.

Having already gained significant practice with previous versions, Mar took several steps forward without difficulty, driving the wood and brass constructions with nuanced nudges from his stubs.

"I think that is your best yet, my lord king," Master Tribiz said.  "Quite nearly lifelike."

Mar defeated the sharp frown that this remark spurred and made a quick turn about on the balls of his wooden feet. 

"Much better response this time," he told the three.

"The extra small pivot solved the jamming problem," Ordeliea agreed.  "How do the adjustments to mounting sockets feel?"

Waleck's appearance had reminded Mar how little actual control he had over events and set him to thinking that he should complete his legs before some major interruption cropped up.   As a consequence, he had put much more time into his regrowth spells and the stubs of his legs were now at least a span longer.  Twice already in the design process it had been necessary to make adjustments to the brass-reinforced hollows that enclosed the ends of his legs.  While he expected the growth rate to slow when he began to reconstruct the relatively more complex structures of his knees, within a fortnight he believed that the entirety of both artificial thighs and knees would have to be removed to accommodate his own returned flesh.  He had not yet expressly revealed to anyone what he was attempting to accomplish, but he believed that at the very least Ordeliea, who had taken the initial and subsequent measurements of his amputated limbs, had already guessed.

His original motivation for commissioning the artificial legs had been a simple desire to conceal his progress, both to prevent premature requests for this new healing magic and to allow him to restore his limbs without distraction.  Now, in retrospect, those cautions seemed inconsequential.

"Very comfortable."  Mar walked back across the carpet toward the balcony that overlooked the restored gardens.  "The left knee seems like it's sticking a bit."

Master Tribiz, a small, neatly appointed man who tended to fidget except when working with his brass creations, opened his leather tool case and removed two small wrenches and an oilcan.

"By your leave, my lord king, if you could lift the left leg and bend the lower leg to the vertical? Thank you."  The brass worker made a series of adjustments to the springs of the complex apparatus.  "Try that, please."

Mar turned about again and circled the three crafters, taking bolder strides as he grew more confident in his spells.  "That took care of it."

"These are suitable?" Ghimrael asked. 

Mar nodded.  "I think so.  You've all done excellent work.  I may still need modifications and adjustments from time to time, though."

Ghimrael bowed.  "We will be available at any time should you need us, my lord king."

"I should come by every few days to check the fit," Ordeliea suggested, then quickly added, "To prevent sores or chaffing."

"Yes, thank you.  That will be fine."

After the three had gone, Mar continued to practice with the legs, stamping about the room with greater and greater vigor until he could dash from one side to the other without having to use the magic of his brigandine to keep him from toppling.  Satisfied, he walked across to the door of the anteroom where four of the Auxiliaries were always stationed when he was in residence. 

When he spelled the door open -- he had long since enchanted every portal in the palace that he had need to pass through -- the four youths, Hryen, his sister Lyeut, and the two brothers Siel and Mlehn, stopped chatting, jumped up from the couches on which they had been lounging, and snapped to attention.  Yhejia had had jackets and trousers in imperial colors made for all the Auxiliaries and insisted that they be worn any time the young people were standing messenger duty.

"Hryen, run tell Aael that I want a tailor and a cobbler.  It's time for some new clothes."

Hryen immediately saluted and dashed through the opposite doorway into the hall beyond.

The remaining three looked at his artificial legs with unconcealed curiosity.  From time to time, all of the Auxiliaries had peeked at him practicing with the previous versions.

The never bashful Mlehn asked, "Those are the final ones?"

"Yes. How do they look?"

"I don't like them," Lyeut said.  "They make you look funny."

"I think they're grand," Siel countered.  "Can you still fly?"

"Of course."  Mar raised himself and the legs a few fingerlengths from the floor and circled the three Auxiliaries thrice in rapid succession.

"I'd give up my legs to fly!" Mlehn exulted.

Mar shook his head, not quite frowning.  "No, Mlehn, you
wouldn't.
"

Hryen dashed back in.  He had grown a span and a half over the winter and had an energy that seemed to have no end.  "Signifier Aael says that both will arrive within the hour.  He also told me to tell you that Prince Kyort craves an audience."

"Then I suppose you'll have to go back and tell Aael that I can see the prince right now, if that's convenient with the prince."

Hryen threw another polished salute and bolted away again.

Clearly still in the negative camp, Lyeut asked, "Do you have to wear them all the time?"

"No, but I'm going to try to wear them as much as possible so that I can get better at walking with them.  I want it to look as if I have real legs."

"Why is that?" she asked with the utter guilelessness of the very young.

On impulse, Mar confessed, "I'm re-growing my own and I don't want anyone to know until I'm done."

"You can do that?" Mlehn asked, eyes growing wide.

Mar laughed.  "I'm working on it, but it's an imperial secret, so you can't tell anyone."

"Not even Aunt Yhejia?" Lyeut demanded.  "She told us that she has to know about everything that goes on in her household.  It's the law!"

Sure that the stipulation had more to do with keeping the eye of their adoptive mother on the behavior of the Auxiliaries rather than on the actions of himself, Mar nevertheless asked, "And her household is the palace?"

"The whole thing from the corner of the garden wall with the hole hidden behind the shrub to the top of the broken tower," Siel confirmed, no doubt repeating the definition that he had received from the Royal Seneschal.

"Well, then, you must of course tell Yhejia."

"What about the other Auxiliaries?" Mlehn wanted to know.

"I suppose that they should know as well."

"What about Signifier Aael?" Lyeut and Siel spat out practically simultaneously.

"Yes, you can tell him."

"What about --?"

Before Mlehn could finish, Hryen once more returned to announce that Prince Kyort waited without, thereby saving Mar from having to approve or disapprove the sharing of the secret with every inhabitant of the palace.

Mar thanked Hryen and walked back into his dayroom.  As an experiment, rather than open one of the doors using its flux modulation, he walked up to it, braced his new legs, and pulled on the brass handle with his hand.  He had to stiffen the spells in the calves and ankles to give himself enough traction to swing the large door without sliding, but did succeed in opening it without staggering overmuch.

In the wide corridor beyond were, as always, two quads of guards and Subaltern E’hve, and all, as always, came to attention when Mar stuck his head out.  Interestingly, Prince Kyort, who was tall, perhaps a decade and a half older than Mar, and shared a strong familial resemblance to his sister, also braced. 

"Come right in, Prince Kyort.  I'm glad to see you up and about."

The Praaerii noble entered and Mar manually closed the door behind him.

"I have you to thank for that, my lord emperor," Kyort said, pausing just inside.

"You're one of the lucky ones who respond well to my magic," Mar told him honestly.  "There are many that I cannot help."

The prince grinned.  "Then I shall be sure to make an overly generous offering to the temple of Trhoozh."

Mar swept a couple of chairs out to the island of the frayed carpet and landed them about two armlengths apart.  "Would you like to sit?"

"I've been abed far too long, my lord emperor, and if you don't mind, I would prefer to stand to work at strengthening my legs.  Also, I have only a single request to make and I do not want to infringe upon your time more than is necessary."

Mar nodded for the man to continue.

"I plan to return to Praae tomorrow and I do not want my sister to accompany me.  I would like her to remain in Mhajhkaei."

"I have no problem with that, but I don't see that she needs my permission to stay."

"Her stated intention is to return to Praae, which is far too close to the poison that is the Brotherhood of Phaelle for my only sister.  As you may know, my wife and I are childless and Chrynn, as my only living blood relation, is heir to the throne of our city.  While it is my duty and heartfelt desire to return to Praae to lead its army, I believe that Chrynn could better serve Praae if she were farther beyond the reach of the Phaelle'n assassins.  Since she inherited our father's obstinacy, she has made it clear that she will not submit to an order from a brother.  However, I do not believe that she will refuse an invitation from an emperor."

"I understand."  Mar thought a moment.  "Yhejia has recently told me that Prince Davfydd needs tutor.  She's also stipulated that the tutor be someone of, in her words, 'proper noble bearing, modest comportment, scholarly education, and unshakable dedication.'  It seems to me that Lady Chrynn would satisfy her requirements and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to draft her into Imperial service."

Showing obvious relief, Kyort bowed low.  "Thank you, my lord emperor."

As soon as the prince had departed, Mar sent all of the Auxiliaries in different directions to hunt for Mhiskva.  The Gaaelfharenii had no fixed desk or official chambers, but could normally be found with Berhl either inspecting the Citadel garrison in his capacity as chief of imperial forces, receiving petitions from dignitaries in his capacity First Minister, or vetting requests for the Emperor's time or aid from common Mhajhkaeirii in his capacity as Principal Civil Magistrate (another post that Mar had invented.)

Somewhat unusually, it took only a few minutes for the marine captain to appear.

Mar explained what he had planned and then told Mhiskva, "She's a princess and I don't want to offend some protocol that I don't know or actually care about.  Do you see any problem with this?"

"None, my lord king.  To my mind, I believe the lady to be keen enough to see Prince Kyort's hand in this, but she will not resist the wishes of her king."

"I'd like to let her know right away, but I'm waiting to get some clothes and boots made.  I noticed the two of you talking at supper yesterday."

"Yes, my lord king, we have made an acquaintance.  I will be glad to let her know that she has been summoned to imperial duty."

"Thanks, Mhiskva."

"My pleasure, my lord king."

For some unknown reason, Mhiskva smiled in an uncharacteristic way when he said this.

When the Auxiliaries had all returned, he went in to ask them, "Which of you found the First Minster?"

Lyeut's hand shot up and she grinned.  "I did!  I knew right where to look."

"Oh? Where was that?"

"Walking along the eastern solarium promenade with Lady Chrynn.  That's where he is every day at this time."

NINETEEN

Mar kept his artificial legs on through the visits of the tailor and cobbler, and even made a trek around the palace gardens, but by supper he had grown weary of the devices and left them off.