“Yes, yes! Untie me! How did you get away?”
Orris followed Anson into the room brandishing his regained sword, and deftly cut Nevin’s rope bonds. While Nevin rubbed his wrists to restore circulation, Orris tittered, “Anson used Corissa’s ring to lead those High Mages here. They had the bilious spit to summon the King and his minister for a reckoning. Oh, and would you believe it, Sir Nevin, they say Anson is one of them!”
“Used the ring? How? Anson is what?” Nevin asked, confused.
“The rubies in the king’s ring are crystals,” Anson said. “Crystals give off emanations. The High Mages sensed it when I livened it by spelling.”
“What emanations?”
“Have you never sensed—what you call energy—from crystals? I recall you explaining something about shining an intense light through a ruby to concentrate this energy. I think you called it a laser.”
“Oh, that’s different, I mean, uh…” Nevin muttered.
“The rubies are not all of it, Sir,” Orris added, helping Nevin stand up. “The woman, Zamora, is his mother.”
“Anson’s Mother? Huh?”
“It is, as well, an unexpected surprise to me, Nevin,” Anson shrugged. “I am sure it will all be explained, but now we must return to the others.”
“Your mother? What the—Oh, what about Corissa! How is she? Is she hurt or anything?”
“She is well enough. Please, let us hurry.”
* * *
“Welcome, Mr. Reasoner. It is good to see you unharmed,” Hillister said, as Nevin and the others entered the room. Strangely, no Gilsum guards were encountered on the way, nor were there any protecting their king.
Nevin looked around in bewilderment. King Meire sat at a table with Camrel standing at his side. The king’s posture was erect and his bearing was regal, but there was an unmistakable appearance of confusion in his eyes. Nevin stared closely at the King, noticing physical features that reminded him of something Stryker said. Despite Meire’s well-groomed appearance, there were signs his hair was treated to cover up small bald splotches. Around his mouth, sores were masked with makeup. There was marked bruising around his hands and wrists, and his overall complexion had a pallor compared to other residents of Gilsum. There was no doubt he was suffering some form of systemic illness.
Hillister waited in front of the table. Corissa and Zamora stood to his left, both with solemn expressions. Anson and Orris joined them, completing the audience. Nevin made eye contact with Corissa, who nodded slightly and tightened her lips to reflect the gravity of the situation.
“Now that you all are here, I will explain our presence and intentions,” Hillister said calmly.
Meire responded with a deferential look, then declared, “Whoever you claim to be, I have not decided whether I should even respond or have you removed from my sight. I will only admit to some confusion over the request of your companion—” he said, pointing to Zamora, “—to bring myself to this room. Nevertheless, I am here and I expect you to address me befittingly.”
“Meire,” Hillister’s tone turned grave. “Except for Camrel, none here are your subjects. Zamora and I are part of a council of observers that live in isolation around this kingdom and other lands. These others represent Antrim, who came here to plead for the end of your war before their kingdom and yours is sundered to nothing but anarchy and ruin.”
“What do you mean by observers?” Meire asked grimly. “Explain yourself.”
Hillister hesitated, as if he was uncertain how much he should say. He finally spoke, his tone soft but determined, “Over the ages our council has rarely interfered with the governance of kingdoms, cities and such. That does not mean we are disinterested. Quite the contrary, in fact. For years, we have found it difficult to remain aloof over your actions, Meire, while many died from your pointless war. Our neutrality was especially challenged by your cruel campaign to murder anyone suspected of having spellcasting ability over some foolish prophecy. Your decision to use an explosive contrivance finally forced us to act, though we abhor doing so. Zamora and I are here to judge you and halt your course.”
Meire looked away, sniffing his disregard at this impertinence.
Camrel, looking distressed, jutted her chin forward and asked, “May I speak?”
Hillister nodded.
Camrel took a deep breath. “I believe I know who you are, Hillister, and your companion, Zamora. You are High Mages, if I am correct. I also believe it is your intent to do harm to my king. I will not argue for either his innocence or his sovereignty. It is obviously too late for that. I beg that he be judged as well for the good he has done. A good king is a servant to his people, and this man has spent his life governing Gilsum with fairness and devotion to the welfare of his people.”
Zamora stepped forward to acknowledge the Minister’s plea, “Your devotion to your king is admirable, Camrel, but, as you say, it is too late. Whether a ruler or common person, one’s heinous acts are not easily absolved by the number or size of good deeds. A tyrant who is a loving husband and father is still a tyrant.”
Meire stirred and laughed derisively, “Ha! I should have guessed. You are mages come out of hiding to fulfill the prophecy of regicide.”
Hillister frowned, “The prophecy that spawned your delusion about mages has no merit, Meire. There is no underlying magic or compulsion to make such predictions come true. Prophecies like this arise from ignorance, fear and chance.”
Camrel rejoined Hillister’s indictment, “You judge a king’s right to wage war and condemn the casualties as wanton murder, then decide to murder the king yourselves? Who is the new tyrant, now? Do you also seek to make yourself king?”
Nevin could tell from Hillister’s body posture that Camrel’s accusation flustered him. Zamora acted next, gently placing her arm on Hillister’s to allow her step forward and address Gilsum’s minister and king. “Your view has been stated by some on our council, and it does prevail, in part. You take the lives of mages wantonly, out of ignorance and senseless fear. Few are left in the land to tend the sick and ailing. Anson, my son, would be another victim, as would Hillister and I, if you held sway.” Zamora stiffened, took a breath, and issued judgment. “Meire, we will not take your life to redress your atrocities. Rather, we will take away your ability to rule. Camrel, please step aside.”
Camrel reluctantly moved away, fearful over what would transpire next. After Zamora moved around the table to the Meire’s right, she beckoned to Hillister, “It is time. It takes two to carry out the council’s decision.”
Hillister nodded and moved around the table to the King’s left, so that he and Zamora were positioned on opposite sides of the king. Simultaneously, the two High Mages placed one hand on a shoulder and firmly held the king in place. Meire obviously resented their touch but that did not give way to the confusion in his eyes. With their other hands, the mages placed two fingers each on the king’s temples and whispered a brief incantation that caused the king’s body to stiffen slightly and eyes flutter. In a minute, it was over. The King sighed and slumped to one side.
Camrel sprang forward and knelt to aide her monarch. With her many years of familiarity with the man, she could tell instantly that his mind was diminished. She bore hateful looks at Zamora and Hillister.
Zamora spoke, “He did not feel pain, Camrel, but his ability to rule is gone. We take no pleasure from this retribution.”
Hillister added, “We have no wish to take his place or choose his successor. According to your laws, he remains king until he dies. It is likely that will happen soon as his body wastes away from what is called radiation sickness. Mr. Reasoner can tell you more about that, if you wish. With the state of his mind now, he will not suffer as he would have otherwise. We hope you can take some comfort in that.”
Camrel nodded sadly, indicating she knew Meire was struggling with illness for some time.
Hillister continued, “We do not know how long Meire will live, and, as Zamora said, his succession w
ill be determined by your tradition. Our opinion, for whatever it is worth to you, is that a regency complies with your tradition. With you as regent, it will cause the least disruption to your kingdom and the best prospect for negotiating settlements with King Lucan. That said, we must depart.”
Hillister went directly out the door without a look or word for anyone. Zamora followed, stopping to embrace Anson again and whisper something meant only for him. After she exited, the four from Antrim came together and searched their faces in silence. They formed a circle, each with an arm cradling the one at their side in solemn humility for what they had accomplished. No words were said, as none were needed, and they quietly left as well.
Chapter 22
Academy
Camrel immediately posted proclamations in the Taunton city limits that there was a cease-fire in their war with Antrim. She explained to the Antrim delegation that she deliberately understated the end of the war because it was better politically to let the citizens of Taunton gradually adjust to peace. Nevin did not understand the need for this strategy, but Corissa did. She also agreed to have runners sent to all cities in Gilsum with this news, as long as it included official orders for Gilsum Guardsmen to withdraw from armed conflict with Antrim.
The First Minister’s proclamation also intimated that King Meire deserved most of the credit for creating the peace, but added that he had to withdraw from public celebrations because the strain on his health had left him in a delicate condition. Knowing the facts, Nevin expressed concern about falsely crediting Meire. Corissa took him aside and patiently explained that it instills confidence in the citizenry when their leaders are honored in this way, irrespective of the work by underlings. Did he seriously expect Camrel’s proclamation to give credit to Antrim’s king? What mattered most was that a senseless, debilitating war was over, as was the witch hunt for mages. She assured him that Camrel knows how to edify her people and could be trusted.
Before they left Taunton, Camrel asked Nevin privately about radiation sickness. She said King Meire’s symptoms got noticeably worse after watching the creation of Stryker’s nuclear device. Apparently, he was doubtful it would do what Stryker predicted and wanted to see its making up close. For more than a week, she said, he suffered from terrible bouts of nausea and “flux.” Nevin felt he had to be honest with her, confirming the likeliness that Meire was suffering from acute radiation poisoning and might succumb very soon.
Camrel provided horses for the four travelers to make their return to Antrim. Though their pace was easy, there was little conversation among them. As their horses maintained an easy gait, each person had a lot to think about regarding the future.
Orris had lost his taste for soldiering, although nothing came to mind for a change in livelihood. He was not cut out for farming and had no other trade. He could probably serve in a ceremonial capacity for the palace guard, but he was done with uniforms and all they implied. He would keep his elvish sword, however. While he might not wear it, it would never be far away for all it meant to him.
Anson had no reservations about his calling. He would resume his role in Huxley, serving the townspeople with medicinal aid and moral support. He could move around more freely now to collect herbs and medicinals, and respond to ailments small and serious. That was familiar ground for him, but his kinship with Zamora and the High Mages was another thing entirely. She told him how to find her and promised to answer his questions about his origin and why they left him to make his own way. What else could this kinship bode for him, he wondered. The High Mages had some kind of council that assumed responsibility to observe the welfare of common folks, and that rose to a stewardship role when things grew dire. What would they expect of him now?
Corissa’s future was also certain. She would brief King Lucan on what happened in Gilsum and remain involved in working out a treaty. She might work behind the scenes or in the forefront, but she would work at her King’s right hand. She could not help feeling some smugness about her status in this outcome to counter the antipathy toward her from most of the men and women of the court. She would not let that recompense get the better of her; personal relationships never did. And that brought her thoughts back to Nevin, after putting it aside in the midst of their struggles. She knew he had feelings for her that could easily go beyond friendship. She did not where she stood on that. His large size was not an issue for her. He was clumsy and inexperienced with women, that was evident, but also decent, fair-minded and morally strong. What to do, she thought, what to do about that…
Nevin’s future was the least certain of all of them. Should he try to return to Hempstead? Every time he asked himself that question, he came up with the same answer: why? The more he thought about it, he was better off staying here. He did not have anything going for him back at the college. He was gradually coming to terms with his deliverance here, although he considered the ley line explanation still a weak theory. Plus, there were other experiences that still defied explanation and that interested him. He felt science could still be at the root of spellcasting; there was a lot to learn there, if he could experiment with it. No, he could not turn his back on that opportunity. And there was Corissa, too, but he was more uncertain about her than any of these other questions.
As Nevin silently nodded his decision, Corissa brought her horse alongside his and greeted him, “Nevin, I have a question for you.”
What timing, he thought. “Fire away. Uh…I mean, what’s on your mind.” He was sure she smirked at his clumsy response. She confirmed it with her reply, but at least she spoke quietly so the others did not overhear.
“It is not about us, Nevin. What came of the man from your land, Stryker?”
“Oh, John Stryker. I forgot all about him. I don’t know. It is a good guess he read the situation and took off. I’m pretty sure Camrel didn’t like him very much, so I presume he’s still around somewhere. Probably looking for an opportunity to better his welfare. It is surprising that Hillister didn’t say anything about him. Stryker showed himself to be a dangerous man.”
Corissa gave a nod of agreement and spurred her horse ahead, suggesting to Nevin she was in a hurry to get to Antrim.
* * *
At the end of the first day of travel, they gathered around a blazing campfire with no fears about giving away their presence. After small talk, Orris announced he had something important to say, “My friends, I am giving up the uniform. I still wish to serve Antrim and King Lucan, but it will have to be in a different calling. I do not know what that may be, but I will take some time to think about it.”
“That’s great, Orris. I hope it will bring you happiness and a longer life,” Nevin said. Anson and Corissa responded similarly.
“Thank you, but that means I will leave you in the morning so I can think about the future and my place in it. I am going to return to Glorhumm and seek out Swiggum. That daft dwarf told me he wants to see more of Antrim and how we humans live. Like me, he is ready to change his life around and I like his company.”
In the morning, Orris left for his rendezvous with Swiggum amid backslaps and mutual wishes of good luck. His colleagues turned their horses toward Antrim and made their way without incident.
* * *
“King Lucan requests your presence,” the page announced. Nodding at the waist with great formality, he pivoted gracefully and beckoned Nevin to follow. They walked quickly through the castle halls over marble floors until they reached the secured area that included the King’s living quarters. They passed through several rooms, all opulently furnished. The proliferation of lush rugs, wall hangings and draperies, with blue as the predominant color, made the décor garish for Nevin’s taste. He tried to contain his antipathy, knowing, at least vaguely, that he was a bit jealous. Finally, the page stopped at a door and gently knocked. When a voice beckoned, he opened the door; with a bow and a sweep of his arm, he directed Nevin to enter and closed the door behind him.
The room was quite different from any seen pre
viously. It was a sitting room with comfortable chairs and a few small tables conveniently placed; it was less lavishly decorated and cheerfully lit by candles in wall sconces all around. Topping off the comfortable setting, King Lucan and Corissa sat in adjacent chairs, both obviously glad to see Nevin. Surprisingly, Lucan stood and said, “It is good to see you again, Sir. Come and sit with us. Shall I call you Sir Nevin or Mr. Reasoner?” The King wore dark green breeches and a white blouse with puffed sleeves, open at the neck. His head was uncovered, revealing curly brown hair, and he was barefoot. A fancy tea set sat steaming on a small table between the King and Corissa.
“Uh, call me Nevin. I don’t really like the ‘Sir’ business…um, your majesty.”
“Well, Nevin, in here you may call me Lucan. This room is my sanctuary and, similar to you, perhaps, this is where I can tone down the royalty ‘business.’ Would you care for a beverage?”
“No thank you, your—Lucan.”
“Then let us get to the state of things. Corissa told me about your travails, but in the end it has turned as well as possible, I suppose.” For the next hour, they discussed the events that transpired with the King outlining his plans for a treaty with Gilsum. He said, “Corissa will be handling the negotiations on my behalf while I tend to restoring order throughout Antrim. I want to offer Orris a role in that endeavor, since he no longer wishes to serve as a Guardsman. Anson has his own plans, mysterious as they are. What about you, Nevin? Would like to serve Antrim in some capacity?”
“Well, um, thanks for the offer. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I could try to go back home, but I do like it here. A lot…actually. It’s a beautiful place, you know. Nice people and all…”
Nevin’s stammering seemed to make them all a little uncomfortable. Corissa tried to turn the conversation to small talk, but was not successful. Finally, Lucan stood, as did Corissa and Nevin, and the King offered, “I have some things I need to do, so you two may continue to share company, as you wish.” There may have been a hint of teasing in Lucan’s suggestion, but Nevin was pretty befuddled at the moment to figure it out.