The Crimson Crown (27 page)

And yet…they are perfect for each other. Why didn’t I see it? It was somehow encouraging to him that an impossible love could come to fruition. It made him a bit more optimistic about his own impossible love.

“So there I was at the Wizard Council meeting, thinking I would be forced to vote for Micah Bayar as the sole candidate for High Wizard. I’d be looking forward to a lifetime of meetings presided over by a Bayar. And suddenly, there you were, declaring yourself as a candidate. Believe me, I was beside myself with happiness.” He laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “But you were only getting started. When the copperheads came in and called that arrogant bastard Bayar to account, I could scarcely contain myself.”

“I only wish I could have been there,” Mordra said, snickering. “But I will be there from now on. And you can count on our support on council.”

Han left his horse at some distance from Lucius Frowsley’s place. It wasn’t that he wanted to sneak up on him. Well, actually, he did. It almost seemed like Lucius had been avoiding him since their meeting about Alger Waterlow. The Southbridge taverns had been complaining that they’d not been able to obtain any product from Lucius’s distillery.

Han walked up Old Woman Creek to Lucius’s usual fishing spot, but didn’t find him there. The creek bank had a desolate look, the grasses grown up as if nobody had sat there in some time.

Worry wormed through Han’s middle. What if Lucius had died? He was more than a thousand years old, after all. Supposedly, Crow had charmed him so he would live forever, but there was no guarantee. How long could a body last given hundreds of years of heavy drinking?

Then again, maybe Lucius’s product acted as a kind of preservative.

As Han approached the crumbling cabin, Dog greeted him in the yard, his entire back end wagging, seeming overjoyed to have a visitor.

“Is he in there?” he asked Dog, who, of course, didn’t answer. But loud snores emanated from inside the cabin.

Han knelt and rubbed Dog’s ears. The pup had a neglected look, his ribs showing through his battered coat. Han carried his water bowl to the creek and filled it. Dog took a few laps to be polite.

Han banged on the door. “Lucius! It’s me, Han Alister. Are you there?” He waited, then knocked again. “Lucius! I need to talk to you.”

The snoring broke off abruptly. To be replaced by swearing.

“Lucius?”

“Hold your horses!” Lucius bellowed. “You wake a man up in the middle of—”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Han called back. “Just so you know.”

Han heard scuffling noises, then the sound of someone peeing into a chamber pot. Finally, Lucius hauled the door open.

The old man had lost the veneer of respectability he’d recently acquired. He looked more unkempt, more tattered than before, like a long-neglected overgrown garden. He was skinnier than ever, to match his dog, his arms and legs skeletal under his clothes. He extended a burled hand toward Han, and it shook with palsy. He stank of product and unwashed flesh.

“Lucius,” Han whispered. “What’s happened?”

“It’s no use, boy,” Lucius said, wiping his clouded eyes. “Doesn’t matter how much I drink, I always wake up.”

No wonder taverns weren’t getting any product from Lucius. He was consuming it all himself.

“Come on,” Han said, taking the old man’s arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little.”

Lucius pulled away, shaking his head. “Just go away. Leave and never come back.”

“I want to talk to you,” Han said. “Or, rather, someone else does.”

When Han said that, Lucius froze in place, taking three wheezing breaths. “It’s him, isn’t it. Alger. He wants to see me after all these years.”

“That’s right,” Han said. “He asked me to bring you to Aediion. He has some questions, and we thought—”

But Lucius took off in a stumbling trot, down the slope to the creek. After a moment’s hesitation, Han charged after him, Dog at his heels.

Lucius plunged into the creek, waded out to the middle, and ducked under the surface.

“Lucius!” Han waded in after him. The creek wasn’t all that deep, so he wasn’t hard to find. Han took his arms and hauled him, sputtering and protesting, to the bank.

“What are you doing? Have you gone whimsy-headed?” Han pinned him to the ground, Dog trying to worm his way between them.

“Don’t worry,” Lucius said, coughing out water, his stringy white hair in his face. “I’m in no danger of drowning, more’s the pity.” Gradually, he stopped struggling and lay quiet. Han relaxed his grip.

“I’m sorry,” Lucius said. “I always knew this day would come, but you took me by surprise, and I suppose I panicked.” His dip in the creek seemed to have transformed the old man. He still looked shabby, but the blueblood voice and attitude were back.

“I won’t make you talk to Waterlow if you don’t want to,” Han said.

Lucius heaved a great sigh and pushed up to a sitting position. “No. It’s time. I’ll talk to him. He needs to know the truth. Let’s do it now before I lose my nerve.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go back to the house?” Han said. “Dry off a little?”

“Let’s go to the distillery,” Lucius said. “The house is not suitable for guests right now.” Han helped him up, and they circled the house, back to the shack Han had visited so many times.

Great kegs of must bubbled gently in the background, thickening the air with yeast. Han and Lucius toweled off, then sat cross-legged on the floor, knee to knee. Han put one hand on his amulet and gripped Lucius’s hand with the other.

Dog watched anxiously from the doorway, whining a little.

His fingers damp against his amulet, Han spoke the charm, and they entered Aediion.

Han materialized first, in the garb he usually wore for his audiences with Crow.

Crow had set the stage for this historic meeting. He stood on the Mystwerk quad, in the shade of a tree that Han didn’t remember. The towers of Mystwerk Hall loomed up behind him. Han squinted at the building, trying to figure out what was different.

Right. The wings were missing. Bayar Library had not yet been built.

Crow looked like he’d been waiting a while. He shifted from foot to foot, both apprehensive and eager. His clothes kept shifting, too, from student robes to royal finery, ending with sober black, the Waterlow ravens overtop.

After a moment, the air shimmered, and a third person materialized. It was Lucius, but he hadn’t cleaned himself up for the reunion. His clothes were shabby and stained, his hair and beard unkempt. His face sagged into wrinkles like an unmade bed. His eyes were different, though—no longer milky blind, but a clear and lively brown.

Crow frowned, glancing at Han as if he’d made a swap. “This is Lucas? It can’t be.”

“Hello, Alger,” Lucius said in a tremulous voice. “You look just the way I remember. Before they beat and tortured you to death, that is.”

Crow took a step forward, extending his hand. “It
is
you. I never expected that the years would be so—so unkind.”

“Guess you never appreciated the advantages of dying young.” Lucius grimaced. He turned to Han. “Now I finally see what you look like, boy. You favor Alger—you really do.”

“But…but you’re a
drunk
,” Crow said, looking down at the bottles at Lucius’s feet. “I don’t understand.”

“I always liked my liquor. You know how we used to—”

“No.” Crow shook his head. “No. Not like this. What’s happened to you?”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Lucius muttered. “I wanted you to see the price I paid for endless life. I hoped to stir you to mercy. But maybe this will make it easier for us to talk.…”

His image shifted, changed, became taller, more erect, broader in the shoulders, until Han saw before him a young man, his hair a silken red-brown color, cut in an old-fashioned style. His solemn student’s attire mirrored Crow’s, but his stoles were emblazoned with crossed keys.

But something in his features was familiar—the breadth of the nose, the shape of the chin. It was a much younger, civilized version of the old man Han knew as Lucius.

“Ah,” Crow breathed, his face alight. “That’s the way I remember you.” He gripped Lucius’s shoulders. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. There are so many questions I want to ask you.”

The young Lucius fingered his newly luxuriant hair and licked his lips. Han could almost see the courage draining out of him. “You sure you don’t want to just let it be? Will the truth really make a difference after all this time?”

“I think it will,” Crow said. “You’ve been alive a thousand years, and I’ve been dead, and neither of us has been able to move on. I’ve been demonized, and Hana’s been made a saint, and you’re the only one alive today who knows that neither of those stories is true.”

“No,” Lucius said. “Hana wasn’t a saint, and you were no demon. You were human, is all, and ambitious, and you trusted the wrong people.” He bent his head, rubbing his forehead. Finally, he looked up, eyes swimming. “I’ll answer any question you ask, and I’ll tell the truth,” he said, “on one condition.”

Crow cocked his head as if puzzled by Lucius’s unease. “Why would you—?” He stopped then, and nodded. “All right—what is it?”

“If I tell you the truth, will you remove this curse on me?”

“What curse?” Crow asked, mystified.

“This curse of living forever,” Lucius said. “I’m done. I don’t want this anymore.”

Crow shrugged his shoulders. “I’m dead,” he said. “I have no flash at all. I can’t conjure anything outside of Aediion.”

“You have the knowledge,” Lucius said. “And the boy has the flash. You can work together. Undo it. Please. That’s all I ask.” It was jarring, hearing Lucius speak through this young man’s body.

“No!” Han protested. “I’m not going to collaborate in killing you.”

Lucius leaned forward, looking into Han’s eyes. “Imagine, boy, if you had to live forever, with all your guilt and all your regrets, and there was no escape, ever. Imagine that and ask yourself—wouldn’t it be merciful if someone gave you a way out?”

“No,” Han said, with less certainty.

Lucius touched Han’s arm. “By all rights, I should have been dead a millennium ago.”

“All right,” Crow said. “Of course I will remove the charm, if that’s what you want. After we talk. If the ‘boy,’ as you call him, agrees.” He shot a warning look at Han.

Lucius smiled, looking happier than Han had ever seen him. “What do you want to know?”

“Come. Let’s sit,” Crow said, as if he were trying to hold on to this moment, to put his old friend at ease. The scene changed, and they were on Bridge Street, at the Mystwerk end. It must have been near winter solstice—the air was crisp and cold. Crow led the way into a tavern crowded with students wearing old-fashioned garb. All wizards, Han guessed, from the amulets glittering at their necks.

They found a table by the hearth, each settling into a chair. Three clanks of ale appeared before them.

Crow took a long draft from his cup and looked around. “This brings back memories, doesn’t it? Sometimes I wish I had never left school.”

Lucius shifted in his seat, wiping his hands on his shirtfront, leaving his ale untouched. Obviously, he had no intention of reminiscing.

Crow sighed. “Very well. There is one question that has dogged me ever since the siege at Gray Lady. Why did Hanalea betray me?”

Lucius began shaking his head, but Crow rushed on.

“Did she ever say what made her change her mind?” he asked. “She said she loved me even though nearly everybody who counted was against us. And…and we would have won, that’s the thing. I
know
we would have.”

It was as if Crow was trying to persuade Han and Lucius. “We were well fortified, well armed, and had the armory at our disposal if we needed it. We’d driven everyone else off the mountain. We had the support of nearly all of the young voices on council. The Bayars were smart enough to know that if they kept slamming their heads against the walls of Gray Lady, they would only injure themselves. They would have come to terms, sooner or later.”

“Alger,” Lucius said, his voice husky and strange. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“And I would have come to terms with them,” Crow went on. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Once you’d humiliated them,” Lucius said, running his stole through his fingers. “Once you’d taught them a lesson they’d never forget.”

For a long moment, Crow stared at Lucius. “I suppose I deserve that,” he said softly. “But all I ever wanted was Hana. I did what I did because it was the only way we could be together. And she betrayed me.” His voice broke. “So…did the Bayars get to her? Or were they blackmailing her, holding a hostage—someone close to her? Or was I completely wrong about her?” He blotted his eyes with the heels of his hands and looked up at Lucius.

“You were never wrong about Hanalea,” Lucius said. “And she never betrayed you. I did.”

For a moment, the tavern scene slipped, dissolving as Crow lost focus. Bits of other images intruded: an elegant ballroom, a dance of bluebloods, an orchestra playing in the background. A stone chamber—no—a dungeon, deep underground, lined with instruments of torture, blood spattered over the floor and walls.

A glass garden, rose petals scattered on the stone path.

The images faded, and then, with a jarring suddenness, Crow, Lucius, and Han were alone in a stark, empty landscape, a cold wind howling around them.

“You?” Crow splintered, spiraled, reassembled himself. “
You
betrayed me? I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Lucius said. “Because it’s the truth. I betrayed you not just once, but several times.”

Crow stared at Lucius—confusion, hurt, and anger chasing each other across his face.

“But…you were my friend,” he whispered. “I trusted you. I…I—”

His image rippled, grew in size and brilliance and menace until he might have been the Demon King of the stories.

Lucius faced him, literally trembling, but still egging him on. “Come on, Alger,” he taunted. “Kill me now, and be done with it. You know you want to, and you know I deserve it.”