The Innocent Mage (48 page)

! could feel it. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save that Prophecy was served once more. Asher was coming home.

She stirred the basin’s water. Broke the link. ‘Yes. He’s ! he.’

Sitting back, Matt dragged one hand over his face, breathing heavily. ‘Praise Barl.’ He looked at her. ‘Praise ! Prophecy.’ His expression altered. ‘Dath …’

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I was nervous too. I think we’d lie fools not to be. These are nervous times, Matt. A kingdom’s at stake.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Nervous. Aye.’

She started rolling up her diminished pouch of tanal leaf. ‘He’s not so far away. They’ve travelled fast. Tomorrow night, maybe, or early the morning after that, will see them in the City.’ ‘They?’

She frowned. ‘The prince is with him.’ Impatiently she shook herself free of the melancholy she’d felt from both men resonating through the scrying spell. ‘So, you can rest easy now. Go, if you’re going. See to your precious poultices. I’ll call if I need you.’ Reaching across, she tugged at the small calling stone on its leather thong around his neck. ‘And if I call, come. I worry when you don’t answer me. Ignore me again and I’ll tell tales on you to Veira, I swear.’

He had the good grace to flush. As well he should. Twice since the storm she’d used the crystal to signal she needed him, and twice he’d put his precious damned horses before her.

‘I will,’ he promised. ‘Dathne …’ His hand rested on her shoulder. ‘You look so tired.’

And so she was. Tired, and more than tired. Her recent days had been spent fixing the bookshop, helping neighbours, and her nights were twisted with dreams. Not Prophecy, not precisely. Just dark forebodings and uneasy intuitions, riding her hard till morning dragged harsh fingers across her face and she woke, bathed in pale yellow sunshine and sweat.

‘I’ll stay,’ said Matt. ‘You’re right. The horses won’t die for lack of a poultice. I’ll stay and make us soup and we can talk, Dathne. All right?’

Perversely, it wasn’t all right. With the last lingering tartness of the tanal on her tongue, her sight just tinged with its golden potency, all she wanted now was to be left alone. To slide between cool sheets in the rose-scented darkness of her bedroom and surrender to sleep.

With luck, she wouldn’t dream tonight.

She shook her head. ‘No. You go. There’ll come a time soon when you’ll need to leave the horses behind without a second thought. Don’t abandon them till you have to. I’ll be fine.’

His callused hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek. Rested there. ‘You’re sure?’

She stood and moved away from the table. Towards the door. Hinting. ‘When have you ever known me not sure?’

He laughed, as she’d intended. Collected his coat from the arm of her dilapidated couch then paused in the open doorway. ‘I’ll stay around the stables and call the minute he gets back.’

‘Good,’ she said, and closed the door firmly behind him.

Blessedly alone, she stripped off her skirt and blouse and underthings and bathed in a basin of warm water. Then she fell into bed, too weary for even one page of a book. Blew out the candle. Sank into sleep.

And dreamed.

‘Look!’ said Gar, and lifted an unsteady hand to point. ‘Dorana.’

Anchored to his saddle by habit and exhaustion, Ashet blinked groggily and squinted into the distance. Everything looked bleary and his head hurt. Ha! His head? His head, his back, his legs, his toenails … ‘Where?’

‘There! See it? That glittering beyond those far trees? It’s the sun setting on the palace windows. We’re nearly home, praise Barl. Just a few more miles.’

‘Aye,’ said Asher, and dragged a filthy sleeve across his dirty, unshaven face. ‘Good.’ For him, any road. Gar was nearly home. As for himself … But it was the City, right enough. And about bloody time too. The muddy track they travelled now linked with the great City Road, and that would lead them all the way to the main gates. And through Dorana. And up to the palace, and the Tower, where he’d have to sleep tonight and tomorrow night and the next and —

His blistered fingers tightened on Cygnet’s reins; the torse half raised his head, grunting. Poor beast. He was exhausted too. Matt would be furious when he saw how much condition his precious animals had lost. They’d need a week at least of stable rest, and all the grain and mash they could eat, after the punishing ride from Westwailing. Come to think of it, he could do with a bit of that himself. ‘Let’s trot a bit,’ said Gar, his pale voice humming with tension. He looked rough as guts too. Dark gold stubble sandpapered his cheeks and chin. His bloodshot eyes had sunk into their sockets and his dirty hair hung limp and lank. If Darran could see him now he’d most likely faint.

‘Trot?’ Asher groaned. ‘Barl bloody save me. Do we have to? My damn spine’s near to jolted through the top of my skull.’

‘And you think mine isn’t?’ snapped Gar, glaring. ‘Come on. We can try, at least. If we can I want to —’ He stopped, coughing like a man with lungrot. The fit passed eventually, leaving him milk-white and gasping. Waving away Asher’s concern he pressed his fingers to his eyes, hard, then let his hand drop. ‘I’m all right.’ Glancing at Asher, he frowned.

‘Which is more than I can say for you. You look worse than I feel, if that’s possible. You shouldn’t have come. I was mad to let you talk me into it.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Asher, then laughed, unamused, because it was such a lie, and he knew it, and Gar knew it, and truly, what was the point? ‘Don’t fret on it. Like you say, this mad ride were my decision, not yours. Besides, what good would not comin’ have done me? If I’d stayed behind I’d have killed that ole Darran by now. Or if not him, then def’nitely bloody Wilier. And anyway, I’ve got nowhere else to go, have I?’

The words scalded, bitter as bile. Damn. He’d never meant to say that out loud. Gar’s expression was shocked. Hurt. Bewildered.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nowt. Nothing. Forget I said it,’ Asher replied, inwardly cursing. ‘I’m tired, is all. Not thinkin’ straight, And that bloody pother’s pills and potions ran out two days ago. You want to trot? We’ll trot.’

Gar bullied his horse forward, blocking the path. ‘I thought I made it clear to you, Asher, I wasn’t forcing you back here. I offered to fix —’

‘I know!’ said Asher, raising his voice. ‘It’s all right. I didn’t mean it. I don’t mind comin’ back to Dorana. If I can’t have the coast, it’s as good a place as any to —’

Gar wasn’t listening. ‘You saved my life, Asher! Do you think I’d repay that by making you do anything you didn’t want to? Is that the kind of man you think I am?’

‘Of course it ain’t, you bloody fool.’

‘You saved my life,’ Gar repeated, and this time it was a whisper. In his scratched and dirty face a memory of wild water, and drowning. ‘Barl forgive me. Can you believe I forgot…’

Asher heaved a sigh. ‘Don’t fret on it. Reckon you’ve had a bit on your mind this last little while.’

The uncertainty in Gar’s face hardened into resolve. Reaching out he clasped Asher’s shoulder, his fingers like a vice. ‘I can never fully repay you. But if ever you’re in need, come to me. Ask, and no matter the favour it will be granted. My word as a prince.’ Embarrassed, Asher looked away. ‘Aye, well …’ Gar’s fingers tightened to the point of pain. ‘I mean it.’ Asher looked back again. Nodded. ‘I know. I’ll remember. Now if it’s all the same to you, can we get on? I’m halfway desperate for a beer and a bath. And Her Majesty must be lookin’ out every window for you by now.’

Gar released his grip. Backed Ballodair up a pace and I the horse’s head round till they were facing the City n. ‘Yes,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re right. The queen will be waiting.’

They stirred the reluctant horses with their spurs and jogged along in silence, too tired to talk further, too full of separate griefs that couldn’t be eased with sharing. Rounding a bend in the track they joined the City Road. It crossed open countryside, and the great storm’s passage was less evident here. In the distance ahead was the City itself, somnolent in the sinking sunshine.

On they jogged, bringing Dorana closer stride by stride. They travelled the road alone.

After a time they could make out the City walls. They looked intact. So did the enormous City gates, standing wide in welcome. ‘Reckon the storm left Dorana alone?’ asked Asher, shading his eyes and staring. Cygnet dropped into an ambling walk. He didn’t have the heart to spur the horse again. Beside him, Gar loosened his reins and let Ballodair follow suit.

‘Unlikely. Durm would have organised a Working. Teams of mages to repair the damage. However bad it was in there, I expect it’s all back to normal by now.’

The City, maybe, but nothing else. With the poor king dead there’d be a new WeatherWorker. Queen Fane. And that was like to make life very, very interesting indeed …

Asher scowled at Cygnet’s ears. He’d never asked for interesting. He’d never asked for much at all, really. Just some money, and a boat, and a little peace and quiet. And yet it seemed as though he’d asked for more than fate thought right to give him.

It wasn’t bloody fair.

Gar said, ‘Without wishing for another argument, I want to say this. Once we know how things stand in Dorana, once … the new order has been established, I think you should take some time to consider your future. I don’t want you to feel obliged to continue in my service. You’ve come a long way from the fisherman turned stable hand I hired a year ago, Asher. I should think you could do anything you wanted now.’

Oh, aye. Of course he could. Anything except the only thing that had ever truly mattered. He glanced at Gar sideways. ‘What did you have in mind?’

Gar’s lips quirked in the smallest of smiles. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps Dathne needs an errand boy in her bookshop.’

Asher’s stomach clenched. Dathne. Damn Gar. He’d been working so hard at not thinking about Dathne.

‘I wasn’t imagining things, was I?’ Gar continued. ‘You and she —’

‘We’re friends,’ he said flatly. ‘At least we were. Then I left. I ain’t sure what we are now.’

‘You parted badly?’

Asher sighed. ‘We parted.’

‘I like Dathne,’ Gar said thoughtfully. ‘She’s an uncommon woman. Too good for you really. Take my advice, Asher, and as soon as you can seek her out and ask her — hold on. What’s that?’

It was a carriage, flying recklessly towards them. The sound of hooves pounding the hard road carried clearly on the cooling, evening air, and the snap of the whip as the driver cracked it over the backs of the galloping horses.

Despite their bone-deep weariness Cygnet and Ballodair bke into a sidling, head-tossing jog. Exchanging looks, Askr and Gar urged them on. The carriage came closer, closer, and they could see it was an open touring model, and tkt there were two people in the back behind the reinsman. Closer still and the carriage’s passengers were on their feet, standing, a dangerous thing to do in a speeding vehicle, holding each other tight and waving. Shouting. Closer again, and they could see that one of the passengers was the queen, was Dana, her long blonde hair streaming behind her, and the other — the other —

‘In Barl’s blessed name …’ Gar whispered. He dropped his teins, forgetting entirely to kiss his holyring, and swayed in the saddle. Trained to a hair’s-breadth Ballodair skidded to a halt. Askr stopped beside him and stretched out a steadying hand. Heedless, Gar sat and stared as though turned to stone.

The carriage was slowing, Coachman Matcher leaning back and hauling on his lines, shouting at the horses to whoa, whoa. Before it stopped scant feet away the passenger door flew open.

‘Papa?’ Gar cried, and slithered to the ground. ‘Papa! Papa!’

They ran to each other, father and son. The king was staggering; not strong, but desperate. They collided. Embraced with abandon, laughing, weeping. They pounded each other’s shoulders and touched each other’s cheeks with trembling fingers. Their joy was incandescent. Silent as death, Asher watched the ecstatic reunion. ‘Where’s Da, Zeth? I want to see him.’ ‘Why, he’s right where you put ‘im, Asher dear. Deep in the cold dark ground.’

Stumbling in her haste, the queen joined her husband and their son. Three people tangled into one, and they all cried togther.

Time passed. At length the king, the queen and the prince disentangled themselves and, still exclaiming, walked to the carriage. Climbed inside. Closed the passe Matcher clicked his tongue and picked up his i carriage turned around and the horses, encourag into a spanking trot. Its passengers continued tc hold and never once looked back.

Asher watched them go. Leaned over and f Ballodair’s abandoned reins. ‘Come up then, boys, and nudged Cygnet into a reluctant walk. Ears pi to his head, eyes rolling and mouth agape as \ against his bridle, rebellious, Ballodair followed.

Together they travelled in the carriage’s wake al back to the City.

By the time Asher finally made it back to the Tower stable rd, it was dark.

The royal carriage had swiftly left him and the horses. Suddenly unable to face the City and the welcome he’d receive from its citizens, he decided to ride the ound to the Tower. Even though he was tired beyond bearing and his body hurt so badly the one jolting step more than strictly necessary was rment. Even though he was freezing cold and dripping at the same time.

way around the City wall’s fat circumference he i across Pellen Orrick, who was inspecting the joins n the huge blocks of stone with a lamp strung on the Fa long pole. Dorana’s Captain of the City Guard i immaculate, as usual, but grim and tired around the I There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and half-id scrapes on his knuckles.

lleister Assistant Administrator,’ Orrick said, and i his eyebrows. ‘Welcome back. You look somewhat corse for wear, if I may say so.’ bflly ‘cause I am, Captain. What’re you doin’?’ .ooking for cracks. The wall’s been mended thrice land passed sound by the Master Magician and Lord but I like to be thorough. So, if you’re back,

and leading Ballodair, can I take it the prince has also returned?’

Asher nodded. ‘Aye.’ He stared at the City’s stone waly because it was better than meeting Pellen Orrick’s sharp,! considering gaze. ‘The storm do much damage here, then?’