King's Son, Magic's Son Read online

  Beginning to feel foolish, I persisted, "I'm not a pet conjuror."

  "No one ever said you were." Gasping, he stopped to wipe his eyes, not daring to look at me. "Did you never think the women might be interested in more than a few pretty charms?"

  "Estmere," I drawled, " 'rustic' I may be, but stupid I am not."

  Now he did glance up, face full of sudden dismay. "I never thought . . . It isn't that your Art demands celibacy, is it?"

  "No, Duwies diolch, Goddess be thanked!" Neither did Ailanna, bless her, any more than I demanded such unnatural behavior of her: only Estmere's folk insist a body be made of stone. "Look you, I confess there are times when I enjoy the smiles and flattery and all that. It's only . . ."

  "Yes?"

  But the words I wanted to tell Estmere of my lady, my love, my Ailanna, just wouldn't come. Literally. Curse you, Tairyn. When you bespell a soul, he stays bespelled. "Never mind, Estmere," I said helplessly. "Pray forgive me. I didn't mean to disturb your work." I grinned ruefully. "Should have realized the guards meant you were here, not in the royal study."

  "There's better light here. And I think you've infected me with that bizarre idea of privacy." Estmere glanced with distaste at the documents before him. "I wasn't doing anything vital, merely checking some boundary lines. A landowner's dispute. Very dull. I assure you, I wouldn't even be wasting my time on it if it didn't happen to involve the son of a chief advisor: Earl Lukyn."

  "Och fi." The earl was clever enough, but agonizingly

  insistent on the proper handling of even the smallest detail.

  Estmere gave me a weary grin. "Och fi, indeed. My appreciation for my—sorry, our father's ability to keep all the little threads of the kingdom woven together rises every day." He gave me a suddenly appraising glance. "You're of the blood royal. Why shouldn't you suffer a bit, too?"

  "How kind," I muttered, moving to peer over his shoulder. "What are those? Maps of the kingdom?"

  He turned to look at me, brow raised at my vagueness. "Has no one taught you your geography?"

  "I repeat, stupid I am not! I know that that so cunningly named Eastern Sea lies there on the—what else?—eastern boundary, I know those are various more-or-less allies there to the north, and I certainly know my own homeland and Mawr Cyfanfor, the Great Sea, there to the west."

  "And to the south?"

  "Ah . . . you have me there."

  "To the south of us lie several small, neutral kingdoms and baronies, and beyond that, the ancient kingdoms of Brecara, Astarrica and Telesse, which are most certainly not our allies, and with whom we often warred in less stable times—Aidan? What are you looking at?"

  "A bird, headed this way. A . . . dove, is it?"

  "A messenger pigeon. You've seen them before."

  "Flying straight to our window?"

  "Foolish bird has itself a bit turned around, that's all." Impatience edged Estmere's voice. "It will straighten itself out."

  "No . . . I don't think so . . ."

  And then I knew what I had sensed, and sent out an angry mental shout to what was just then more than a bird:

  "Get out of here, spy, or I'll kill the bird—and your mind with it!"

  I caught one distant flash of pure psychic rage from someone's sorcerous brain. But, trapped like this, consciousness so far from his rightful bodv, there wasn't anything for the spy to do but yield. Suddenly the bird was only a bird, flying busily away.

  "Aidan?" Estmere was at my side by the window, knife in hand.

  "Sheathe your dagger. There's no danger."

  "Then what was all that about?"

  "A spy."

  He had been quick to learn what rules of magic I'd thought it prudent for him to know. "Some other magician, you mean? Controlling the bird?"

  "Exactly."

  Estmere stiffened. "From my court?"

  "No. There are no magicians here save me." When I'd investigated Aldingar's "magic scroll," I'd found it to be a sham, and of course I would have sensed if anyone had been working genuine spells. "Whoever that was, was working his spell from a great distance. The feel of him was foreign, too. And," I added thoughtfully, "familiar as well."

  He tensed anew. "That day when you saved me from the boar—is this the same eavesdropper?"

  "Yes. I recognized the touch. But I still can't put a face to him, or a name."

  "Could he simply be keeping an eye on the . . . ah . . . royal magician?" Estmere didn't sound as though he believed it. I didn't believe it, either. "Perhaps," I said noncommittally. "Are you still planning a visit to—what's his name?"

  "Lord Osmarc. Yes." A sudden gentleness warmed the blue eyes. "Osmarc has been a good friend of the royal family for years. He and his lady have been praying for a child nigh five years now. How could I not promise to attend that longed-for baby's christening?"

  "Am I invited?"

  That earned me a startled glance. "Do you want to be? I mean, a christening . . . different faiths and all that . . ."

  "It wouldn't embarrass me," I assured him drily. "And I wouldn't embarrass you, either. But would it look odd if I suddenly showed up?"

  "Why no, not at all. Osmarc would probably be flattered." But Estmere's hand was toying with the hilt of his dagger. "Enough light words. What are you trying to say? If there's danger ahead, for God's sake be honest with me."

  "I really don't know what's ahead. But after that winged intruder, let's just say I think it best that I go with you."

  CHAPTER XI

  ANFONIAD

  There we were, Estmere and I, returning to Lundinia, riding along the forest road surrounded by walls of trees, rustlings of leaves and rich green scents, followed by a procession of guards and courtiers, of their bright clothing and banners dulled somewhat by the dim gray light of the overcast day.

  Dull sky or not, I was humming cheerfully to myself. Estmere flashed me a quick grin. "You're in good humor, brother."

  "I rejoice whenever I have forest around me." Seeing his skeptical glance, I shrugged. "Blame it on my childhood. Still, you have to admit that being surrounded by all this green life is better than being trapped behind even the most finely carved of your dead stone walls."

  "Each to his own," he said diplomatically. "But you seemed to enjoy being within Osmarc's keep well enough."

  "I did. It fairly radiated joy."

  "And it would seem your suspicions were unfounded. Not that I'm sorry."

  "Nor I."

  "Osmarc liked you."

  "And I liked him. And his sweet-faced wife. And even that very vocal little offspring of theirs."

  "Ah yes, they're so very happy a family."

  I detected the faintest of wistful notes in his voice and thought in surprise, Why, Estmere, you secret romantic, you envy Osmarc!

  A cold, damp wind swept down on us before I could say anything, and we both caught quickly at our cloaks. Estmere shivered, wrapping the warm wool tightly about himself. "Wonderful forest, eh? Maybe you enjoy this, but I'll be glad to get home again. Especially with the weather turning foul."

  I glanced up at what patches of cloud-heavy sky could be seen through the shifting branches and listened to what the wind was telling me. "It's going to get worse. We'll be lucky to escape a wetting; the rain's very near."

  As though I had given a signal, the heavens opened.

  Och fi, that was a rainstorm! Instantly soaked as wet as though I'd gone swimming fully clad, I lost all sight of the others in those sheer walls of water, wondering if it was possible to drown on horseback.

  There was a dim shape moving just ahead of me. "Aidan? Is that you?"

  "Estmere. Do you see the others?"

  "No." He forced his unhappy horse to my side. "They must have turned aside to find shelter."

  "Wise idea."

  We managed to squeeze our horses and ourselves under the broad branches of an oak. I glanced at Estmere. Even though he had gotten the hood of his cloak up in time, he still looked as miserably wet as I felt. />
  "Wonderful forest," he repeated under his breath. "Can't you do something about this?"

  "Stop the rain, you mean?"

  "Well?"

  "You've been listening to too many ballads. I could probably call up a storm, given enough time and effort and the goodwill of y Duwies. But stop the rain?" I shook my head, showering myself anew. "It's like reversing a spell: it can't be done. All you can do is add a counterspell to balance it."

  "And by that time, the rain would be over anyway. Ah well, I don't suppose I can get any wetter."

  "At least storms this strong don't last very long. See, the rain's already slackening."

  "Doesn't look as though it's going to stop altogether," Estmere muttered. "Still glad you don't have a castle roof over your head?"

  "Roofs," I said shortly, "leak."

  My brother sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you. Come, let's see about gathering up the rest of our party. It's going to be a soggy road home."

  But with our horses' first steps forward, I gasped, a cold shock racing through me, and turned my head sharply, questing . . .

  There.

  Silently I handed the reins of my horse to Estmere and slipped from the saddle.

  "What is it? Where are you going?"

  I didn't answer, too busy studying that which I had just seen through the rain.

  "Aidan? What is it, man? Do you see our courtiers?"

  "No. Nor are we likely to see them." I glanced up, seeing the bewilderment plain on my brother's face. "You have my full permission to call me a fool."

  "What do you mean?" And then, sharply, "What's carved on that rock?"

  "Sbel Drysu. In Anglic a . . . Rune of Entanglement." I paused, magician's curiosity stirring despite the peril. "It does have certain odd modifications to it. . . . Still, I should have sensed its presence."

  Estmere couldn't have understood too much of that, but he defended me bravely: "What, in all this rain?"

  "You don't understand. If I read it correctly, the rune wasn't drawn for us, but for the rest of our party."

  "To get them away from us?"

  "Exactly." I was studying the curving pattern carefully. It wasn't as elegantly drawn as some—I could have done better as a boy—but it was effective enough. "Our men are in no danger. But these modifications see to it that they wander helplessly, no doubt fully convinced they're following us." I drew my dagger, scratching careful, defacing lines across the rune. "The further they get from this thing, particularly since I'm letting its Power drain, the weaker its influence will become. But by the time they come to their senses, our party is going to be too far away to come to our aid."

  "Do you think we'll need aid?"

  "Estmere, I strongly doubt this is someone's idea of a joke."

  "Think it's our bird-controlling spy again?"

  "Probably." I sighed and straightened, flinging back my wet hair from my face. "I know he didn't cause this storm. That much magic I definitely would have sensed from the first." Sheathing my dagger, I took the reins back from my brother and remounted, murmuring soothing phrases to my horse when it danced uneasily. "But how he must have welcomed it! He would surely have known how so much rain would dull my senses."

  "Forget that. What are we to do now?"

  "Go on. Till I figure out what he's trying to do, that's all we can do."

  Silent and wary, we rode on through the wet forest. But things do, eventually, tend to get better, and at last it stopped raining. I glanced up, taking a deep breath of the clean, wet air, and saw leaves stirring in a freshening wind.

  "Should be blue sky soon. Eh, and here's the sun. But what's that glinting ahead of us? Water?"

  "It looks like . . . yes. Lake Cala."

  We rode out of the forest into full sunshine, the lake a clear, deep, wondrous blue on our left, the wet leaves and grass twinkling in the sunlight. It was a beautiful, heart-lifting scene.

  And that, of course, was where the trap had been set for us.

  I had been expecting it. This time I wasn't going to be caught off guard. Even as my startled horse reared in terror, I was off his back, letting him race away, not wanting him getting in the way of my magic—

  But with sudden cold certainty I knew I dared not use magic.

  "Estmere! Get out of here!"

  Too late. He had already thrown himself from his frantic horse and now stood at my side, sword in hand. "God help us, what is that thing?"

  "Anfoniad. A Sending."

  It was ugly, roughly man-shaped though taller than any man, featureless and sexless, mud-colored and smelling of the earth from which it had been shaped by the sorcerer who'd sent it to meet us. Though the anfoniad had no life of its own, it was animated quite effectively by the sorcerer's will.

  And it was very, very deadly.

  As I'd expected, the Sending came at me first, moving with disconcerting speed. I whipped out my sword, the Faerie runes on the blade blazing up as such do in the presence of sorcery, and slashed at the thing. You can't truly kill what isn't truly alive. All I hoped to do—all I could do—was whittle away so much of the anfoniad that the sorcerer's spell would snap and the Sending dissolve back into the earth.

  That was what it wanted, as far as it could want anything. I could vaguely sense the dim, cold, alien longing to return to nonthinking mineral quiet, and for one foolish moment I wondered if I could communicate with it.

  Foolish, indeed. The will binding it was too strong. And so it could do nothing but kill.

  My first slash missed. I tried again, but one great arm lashed out even as I struck at it. The Faerie blade bit deeply—and stuck fast! Before I could free it, the sword was torn from my hand.

  Och, that earth thing was fast! The anfoniad shook itself, sending my sword flying. I made a frantic dive for the weapon, but a blow with what seemed like the weight of the Earth behind it sent me hurtling. Had I struck rock instead of mud, I don't doubt I would have died. As it was, I lay stunned, gasping for air, helplessly aware of the massive Sending looming over me.

  Estmere saved me. I don't know what he was yelling—some family war cry—but his sword cut across one earthy arm and sent a muddy slab tumbling to the ground. My brother saw that slab melt right back into the parent form, and his eyes widened in horror, but he recovered quickly, neatly ducking one frighteningly fast blow then darting aside like a cat, leading the anfoniad away from me.

  But what good was that going to do? Right now I still felt as though every nerve in my body had been cut, and by the time I managed to get my shocked system under control enough to just let me stand, Estmere's merely mortal strength would run out, and he would die, and so would I—

  Not like this! We will not die like this!

  Splendid. But how was I to prevent it?

  Years back, my mother had introduced me to the four Elements—Air, Fire, Water, Earth—and in the process scared me into several nights of sleeplessness at the thought of those basic, utterly alien, utterly uncaring forces. Even now I wanted nothing to do with the wild Power that is the Earth-force, even now I tried desperately to find another way out. But when I tried to stand, my wobbly legs gave way beneath me. Estmere, distracted, gave me a quick glance, and in that moment's hesitation nearly had his head bashed in by the anfoniad.

  The danger of Might Be paled beside that of Here and Now.

  Face down in the mud, allowing myself only enough space to breathe, I stared right into the earth, focusing my will as best I could, silently reciting every calming discipline I knew. And gradually I won control . . . forcing my mind empty of the desperate struggle going on near me . . . forcing away the merely mortal world of sight and sound . . . forcing myself to quiet, cool, inhuman quiet . . . I felt the Earth-force through me, the inner Earth, the rich, strong, endless dark . . .

  Suddenly my mind recoiled as psychic flame engulfed it. I had made contact with the spirits of the Earth, the Elementals, I felt them—as much as any mortal could and live—as liquid fire racing incandesce
nt through the veins of the world. Loathe are those Others to speak with mortals, so alien are they that the magician who claims to understand them lies. But I did have this one chance for bargaining:

  "It is part of your being that is held from you, part of your being forced into mortal action."

  There were no words in return, of course, they have nothing so common as mouths. But I felt their reply rumble through my body like a tremor of the Earth:

  We would be at one again. That cannot be.

  "It can—if you help us." Struggling to hold contact without their fire searing my mind, I made my request. "Is it agreed?"

  I waited, conscious on one level of the pain in my head, the pounding of my heart, well aware of my peril. For all I knew I had somehow angered the beings by one misplaced word. They might not even have understood me. Worse, they might simply decide to end their troubles in one vast snaking of the Earth. I would as lief be torn apart by the anfoniad as buried alive!

  But then I felt a murmur of reply through the whole of my being, and almost laughed in relief.

  It is agreed.

  They told me what to do. Then the contact was broken, leaving me shaken and dizzy with relief at the sudden return to simple mortality. Doggedly I got to my knees, fighting body and mind for control.

  Estmere was still holding his own, thrusting at the anfoniad when he could, dodging its attempts to crush him, but he was panting, and there was desperation in his eyes. I caught a flash of bright metal not too far from where I knelt—my sword! Forgetting dizziness, I snatched it up, closing my hand firmly about the silver-wound hilt.

  "Estmere! Do as I do!"

  Thrice I whirled the bright blade about my head, then plunged it into the ground. Raw strength came surging up that sword into my body, blazing through nerve and muscle, the strength of the Earth itself, and for one panicked moment I thought it would be more than I could hold. But then, drunk with borrowed Power, I no longer cared. As the anfoniad turned towards me, I laughed in sheer, wild exuberance and swung my sword with a speed I had never known before. I felt the blade strike home, saw it slice an earthen arm clean off. Of course the anfoniad showed no reaction, of course it could feel no pain. But this time the severed earth faded harmlessly into the ground.