A Young Man Without Magic (11 page)

Lord Allutar was still in Lord Dorias's parlor when Valin and Anrel returned from Naith, though the evening was well advanced. He did not linger; he nodded an acknowledgment of the new arrivals, then took his leave of Lady Saria and departed.

Saria's face was flushed, Anrel noticed, though he could not have said precisely why. Whether it was perplexity or passion he could not guess, and his cousin did not volunteer an explanation.

“Is Naith as you remembered it, Anrel?” she asked.

“In most respects, yes,” he said. “It is I who have changed; I see it with more educated eyes now.”

“Oh?”

“Saria,” Valin said, interrupting, “I trust today's visit from your suitor went well?”

“Well enough,” Saria said.

“Did you think, perhaps, to ask him to spare the baker's son? Perhaps he would do so to please you, as a courting gift—surely, you would prefer not to wed a murderer.”

Saria's flush deepened. “No, I did not ask, Lord Valin. I have no interest in seeing Urunar Kazien's life spared.”

“No? And what has Master Kazien done to you, that you would see him dead?” Valin demanded.

“Not to me, but to Mistress Lenzinir,” Saria snapped. “I was merely
one of those who sought to comfort her; I did not share her misfortune.”

Taken aback, Valin said, “What?”

“Do you pay
no
attention to what happens in Alzur, then?” Saria asked. “Is our little town so utterly beneath your notice, my lord? Or is it only the women you ignore?”

“I don't . . . who is Mistress Lenzinir?”

“Gei Lenzinir, the weaver's apprentice,” Saria said. “From Orlias, originally, though she has lived here in Alzur for three years now.”

That relieved Anrel's mind; he had been trying unsuccessfully to place the name, but if she had only dwelt in Alzur for three years, then he would have had no opportunity to meet her. “Valin,” he murmured, “I think you had best drop the subject.”

Valin looked from Saria to Anrel and back, then retreated in confusion, leaving the parlor to the two cousins.

“What does he
do
in Naith?” Saria asked, after a moment of silent consideration. “What does he find so fascinating there?”

“He sits at a table in Aulix Square, drinking cheap wine and debating politics with his friends,” Anrel said. “The fascination would seem to lie in the admiring audience these discussions attract.”

“He was not talking to prospective employers?”

“No.”

“Then how does he ever hope to find employment? He has no land, and no chance of an imperial appointment; he needs to earn a living if he is not to remain dependent upon my father forever.”

Anrel smiled wryly. “He has decided he wants a seat on the Grand Council,” he said. “It was suggested that you and your father might want to arrange it merely to get him out of Alzur, and away from Lord Allutar.”

Saria started. “What an outrageous notion!” she said.

“Indeed.”

Saria looked at Anrel, realized he was serious, then turned to stare at the doorway where Valin had departed. “I sometimes wonder how the mind of someone who has lived in my home since I was a child can be such a mystery to me.”

“He lived his first twelve years as a shop keep er's son,” Anrel said. “And he does not share our blood.”

“Even so.”

Anrel nodded. “How
did
the visit from Lord Allutar go?”

“Oh, wonderfully well, really.”

“I'm pleased for you,” Anrel said sincerely.

She looked him in the eye. “I believe you are,” she said. “I know you dislike Lord Allutar, but you mean it all the same, don't you?”

“Whatever my opinion of the landgrave, Cousin, I love
you
, and I wish you to be happy. If you want Lord Allutar as your husband, then I hope you shall have him.” He smiled. “Do not expect frequent visits from me, however, should you achieve your goal.”

“I can only hope you will give him a chance to change your estimation of his character,” Saria said.

“I will do my best, for your sake.”

With that, they parted.

Over the course of the next four days Lord Valin continued to campaign for Urunar Kazien's life by every means at his disposal—and furthermore, he did indeed introduce the notion that he might represent Alzur in the Grand Council. To the dismay of Anrel and Lady Saria, Lord Dorias did not dismiss the notion out of hand.

There was no evidence that Lord Allutar had relented, but Valin seemed to have convinced himself that the baker's son would be allowed to live. Anrel worried about how his friend would react should his optimism prove unfounded.

Anrel also troubled himself uselessly over having let the axe-wielding stranger go, rather than at least attempting to trade his life for Urunar's—but then, had the exchange been made, would Valin have taken up the axe-man's cause, as he had the baker's son's? True, the Kazien family lived in Alzur, while the would-be wood thief did not, but would that have mattered to Valin? It was not as if he actually knew Urunar any better than he knew the stranger. Valin would probably have fought as hard for any commoner's life.

In any case, Anrel realized there was no point in questioning his impulsive actions; what he had done was done, and could not be undone.
Still, his mind was accustomed to activity, and when given little else to engage his thoughts he found himself returning to this subject again and again.

On the day of the solstice the household gathered, then trudged over the hill to the ancient shrine of the Adirane family, where one by one they knelt before the phalloliths and made their personal prayers to the ancestral spirits. Although Anrel had proclaimed himself a Murau rather than an Adirane, he took his own turn, as he always had, acknowledging his mother's blood.

He had not been here in four years, instead making his quarterly obeisance in the temples of Lume, but as he knelt he thought he could feel the divine presence, as if he had never gone. That presence had been perceptible in most of his youthful visits as well, though not, perhaps, in all of them.

He murmured his true name, so there could be no mistake of who was speaking; the one good thing to have come from his sorcery trials, in his opinion, was that he now had a true name that he could use at moments such as this. He then apologized, as he always did, for forsaking his heritage and failing to prove himself a sorcerer. He prayed for the safety and happiness of his family, and of his friend Valin, and of some halfdozen comrades he had known in Lume, and for the welfare of Alzur and all the empire.

Finally, he acknowledged the inadequacy of his own wisdom, and wished for the affairs of Lord Allutar, Urunar Kazien, Lord Valin, and Lady Saria to resolve themselves in the best possible fashion, whatever that might be.

He felt a sudden darkness and oppression at that moment, and he shuddered, unsure what that might mean. Was this the response to his prayer?

Then the sunlight seemed to return and the air to lighten, and he arose, still puzzled, making way for Valin. Valin was no Adirane, by any stretch of the imagination, but as a former apprentice of Lord Dorias who still remained in the household, he was permitted to attend services with the family.

After Valin would come the three servants who had accompanied the party—the senior footman Ollith Tuir, and his wife and daughter, who
were respectively the housekeeper and the upstairs maid. The other four members of the household staff had gone to their own places of reverence, whatever those might be. Anrel walked back up the hill to where Dorias and Saria waited, trying to think what that peculiar psychic darkness might have meant.

Then he realized what it must have been.

“You felt that?” Saria asked as he approached.

“Yes,” Anrel said. “Valin will not be pleased.”

“Then you think Urunar Kazien is dead?”

“Of course. I have little experience of black sorcery, but what else could it have been?”

“For it to be felt so strongly here—that was powerful magic, indeed!”

Anrel shrugged. “No one has ever questioned Lord Allutar's sorcerous prowess.”

“Do you think it worked?”

“We may not know that until next year's harvest.”

“Let us hope it worked,” Dorias said. “It's been several years now since the Raish Valley could feed as many as it should.”

“I would not want Master Kazien to have died in vain,” Anrel replied.

“I wonder,” Saria said, “whether there was anything left over to make heartsblood wine.”

Anrel glanced at her, but did not ask why. His grasp of the exact nature of the notorious magical decoction was vague, but he knew it could be used to bind lovers indissolubly; perhaps she was thinking of her intended marriage.

A few moments later Valin joined them, but no one spoke; Anrel did not know what to say, under the circumstances. He was unsure whether Valin had realized the situation.

The four of them stood in awkward silence while the servants took their turns before the sacred stones. After that the main ceremony began, with Lord Dorias serving as deacon, leading the party in the traditional prayers of thanksgiving to the Father and the Mother, the sky and the earth, and then reciting the catalogue of wonders, from seas and stars down to the salt of the earth, that had been given to humankind. That was followed by the customary brief sermon about the shortening days
and growing nights, and the celebrants' faith that the annual cycle would proceed as it had ever since the great wizards of old first brought these lands out of chaos and bound them to a stable form and a regular calendar. Throughout this speech, no one had the opportunity to say anything other than the words of the ritual.

Finally, as the sun neared the crown of the hill to the west, Lord Dorias gave the final benediction, and the entire party started back toward the house. Anrel eyed Valin uncertainly as they walked, but it was Saria who finally murmured something in his ear.

Valin turned to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What else could it have been?”

Anrel did not hear Valin's reply; the conversation with Saria sank to a whisper.

They arrived safely home, where the cook had already returned from her own rites and was preparing the autumnal breakfast. Valin seemed unnaturally quiet as they settled in and awaited the call to the table.

He remained thoughtful and reserved throughout the meal, and ate sparingly.

As they pushed back from the table, though, Valin announced, “I must speak with Lord Allutar.”

“Not tonight,” Dorias said. “Not at this hour. Not on the equinox.”

There was really little argument Valin could make to that. “In the morning, then,” he said.

“I cannot stop you,” Dorias said. “I would advise against it, however.”

The next day Anrel awoke, dressed, and came downstairs to discover that Valin had already left, perhaps a quarter hour before, intent on seeing Lord Allutar.

Anrel hesitated, then grabbed his hat and set out after his friend.

He had expected to go through the village and up to the landgrave's home, but that proved unnecessary; he found Lord Valin sitting at a table in the town square, talking to the big, well-dressed Quandishman, Lord Blackfield.

Relieved to find Valin alive and calm, Anrel ambled over and asked, “May I join you?”

“By all means,” Valin said, gesturing to an empty chair. “Lord Blackfield is waiting for the next westbound coach, and I am keeping him company until it arrives.”

Anrel considered for a moment, and looked at the eastern sky, where the sun was not yet clear of the rooftops. The morning coach started from Kuriel at first light, when the driver could manage it.

“It should be here any minute,” he said.

“That was my opinion, as well,” Valin said.

“Then you are leaving us, Lord Blackfield?” Anrel said, taking the proffered seat.

“I am afraid so,” the Quandishman said.

“We have had no chance to speak. I am Anrel Murau.”

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Master Murau, however briefly.” He offered a hand, which Anrel shook. “I am Barzal of Blackfield. You spoke most pragmatically at that gathering in the landgrave's hall the other day.”

“I had no reason to do otherwise,” Anrel said, noting that Lord Blackfield's name and title followed the Quandish rules, and indicated that he was not merely a lord, but the head of his family. Otherwise he would have been “Lord Barzal.”

Walasian nobles made no such distinction, of course, or else Uncle Dorias would have been “Lord Adirane.”

“I knew nothing
I
could say would sway Lord Allutar,” Anrel added.

“Indeed, we none of us swayed him in the slightest, did we?” Lord Blackfield sighed. “The boy is dead. His heart was cut out, and his blood offered to the spirits of the earth.”

“I believe we felt something of the spell's impact,” Anrel remarked.

“Most probably. Dark sorcery reaches far and wide, and has subtler effects than its practitioners know.” He shook his head. “I tell you, your Walasian sorcerers do not understand what they are doing, experimenting with such magic.”

National pride swelled in Anrel's breast. “But surely, our magicians know as much of magic as anyone! Is not ours the heartland of the Old Empire that was home to the mightiest wizards of the ancient world?”

“Oh, the Walasian Empire is unquestionably the core of the Bound Lands, but the wizards of old vanished, and took much of their knowledge with them,” Lord Blackfield said. “I do not deny the remarkable abilities of your sorcerers, who have done their best to preserve and expand their magical heritage, but I think they have become overconfident
because
they live in the heart of the Bound Lands. Walasia is too safe, too stable, the ancient bindings too strong, to let your magicians remember what magic can do. Here the sun rises on schedule every morning, and sets in its proper place each evening; it is always the same color, the same size. Throughout the empire each season is ninety-one days, year after year, without change. Every animal brings forth its own kind; every seed bears the appropriate fruit. In Quand this is not always the case; while the Quandish Peninsula is partially in the Bound Lands and quite stable, there are islands in the outer reaches of the Quandish Archipelago where a season may last no more than a single afternoon, where a cow may bear kittens and calves grow on trees. We have constant reminders of what can happen when magic is not properly controlled.”