Wizard Pair (Book 3) (7 page)

"Did he really do magic?" Oadry asked as she helped Rotiaqua out of her dusty travel clothes and into the bath.

"Yes, he did. He raised a fireball and vaporized several soldiers before the rest of them turned tail and ran for home. I'm sure the King has heard of it by now."

Oadry helped her wash off the worst of the dirt and grime but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Rotiaqua, your father wants you in the audience chamber immediately."

"Go tell him I am making myself decent and will be along as soon as I am presentable."

Oadry rushed to the door. The Guard insisted that Rotiaqua was to come immediately, no excuses.

Rotiaqua rose from the tub, splashing water all around. She grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around herself. She twisted her long hair to squeeze the water out and let it fall down her back. She stepped into her slippers and headed off to the audience chamber.

When the Baron saw her, he scowled the way he usually did when she displeased him.

"You said immediately," Rotiaqua quipped. "I wouldn't think of making you wait when such a summons is issued." She sat on her chair beside him, water still dripping from her hair and onto the rich velvet covering. It trickled down to the floor, where it made a small pool beneath her.

"You were with the Wizard. Did you witness the power of Ran he speaks of?" The Baron nodded towards the Wizard.

She blinked back at Sulrad in astonishment. He had paused long enough to shave his head and beard and had donned a black robe with gold piping. The robe flowed around him as he knelt before the Baron.

"I don't know whose power he used, but I did witness him vaporize a number of the soldiers and drive the rest of them off before they could put the farmers to the sword or burn their crops."

Her eyes kept straying to the Wizard. His shaved head and long black robes looked silly. She wondered what he was up to with such an elaborate affectation.

"I'm sorry," she finally blurted out. "Why have you shaved your head and what are you wearing?"

The Wizard looked up at her. "These are to mark me as a Priest of Ran. I have taken an oath to serve Ran for the rest of my life. No other shall have a place in my heart, no woman, no child for me. I am a Priest of Ran. I have dedicated my life to him and to his worship. I exist only to serve him and guide others to his light."

"And what does this service entail, besides fighting the King's troops on behalf of my father?"

"Ran is merciful and powerful. He shines his light on everyone who comes to him. He heals the sick, soothes the suffering, and prospers his people."

"Care to show us how that works?" Rotiaqua asked. She was skeptical about all the talk of Ran, but Sulrad had power - that was certain.

Sulrad turned to the line of petitioners. "Is there anyone who comes here seeking assistance? Perhaps for a sick or injured child?"

Back in the line, a woman raised her hand. "I do, Sire. I have come asking for medical help for my son. He was run over by a wagon and his leg is twisted and broken." Her ragged homespun dress was threadbare and dirty. Her hair looked to have been quickly brushed out, but bits of straw still stuck out of it here and there.

The Wizard walked along the line. "Anyone else?"

Farther back, a merchant stood in the line. He wore fine clothes and jewelry made of gold and precious stones. He leaned on an ornate cane for support and looked to be overfed. He raised his hand. "My daughter. She has weak eyes. She can't see to do her work, and needs a guide to take her from place to place."

The Wizard motioned to the merchant. "Please take me to her. I will heal her."

"But what about my son?" the woman asked.

"I can't heal everyone," the Wizard said, dismissing her. He turned to the merchant and extended his arm.

"Please, kind sir. Won't you heal my son? He won't be able to work with his leg all twisted up like that. How is he supposed to support a family?"

Sulrad turned to look the woman in the eye. "Then it's best that he not raise a family, if he can't care for it."

She grabbed at his robe, but Sulrad pulled it away from her. "Leave me alone!"

Sulrad turned back to the merchant and extended his arm. "Let us see about your daughter."

Rotiaqua was furious at the way Sulrad had treated the woman. Why was the merchant's daughter worthy of healing and not the poor boy? She turned to her father to voice her complaint, but before she could say a word, he held up his hand.

"Go with him and witness what he does," the Baron said. "Then come back and tell me about it."

Rotiaqua looked at him, her eyes full of anger. She glanced down at the towel that enfolded her. "Like this?"

The Baron laughed. "I didn't ask you to come down half dressed." He waved toward the Wizard and the merchant. "Hurry up before you lose sight of them.

Rotiaqua and Sulrad followed the merchant to his house. The foyer was large and decorated with fine paintings of the man and his family. The daughter was depicted in many of them. She was a chubby, sour-faced girl with her father's nose and chin, and her mother's eyes.

Rotiaqua and Sulrad were escorted into a sitting room and served refreshments. The merchant's wife ran around in a panic, shouting at the staff and demanding attention for Rotiaqua. "Your Grace, please excuse my lazy servants. We don't get much royalty here."

"Please don't trouble yourself on my account. I am simply here to witness the healing of your daughter." Rotiaqua smiled over at Sulrad. She secretly hoped he would fail at his task. The more she saw of him, the more she disliked the man. She certainly didn't want him getting in the Baron's good graces.

"Please bring the girl here." Sulrad motioned to the small divan near the interior courtyard.

The wife snapped her fingers at the nearest servant. "My daughter!"

"Yes, Ma'am." The servant bowed his head and backed out of the room. He returned shortly leading the girl by the hand and seated her on the divan, as requested.

Sulrad stood before her. He held his hand up in front of her face. "Can you see my hand?"

"Yes, I can."

"How many fingers am I holding out?"

"Two ... three ... I don't know." The girl huffed and turned her head to look at her father. Rotiaqua saw the milkiness of her eyes and knew the girl was nearly blind.

Sulrad passed his staff before the girl's face, repeating unfamiliar words. Rotiaqua sensed the power rise up in him. Sulrad had a slight violet glow around him. Magic flowed from the Priest and wrapped around the girl. Rotiaqua felt the magic drain out of Sulrad as he healed the girl.

Finally, Sulrad stopped his chanting and sat back. He looked drained and thinner; it must have been exhausting for him, the way he channeled power to the girl as he worked.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked the girl again.

Her face broke out in a smile. "I see three."

The girl turned to her father. "Father. I can see again."

She sprung from the couch and ran to her father. "I can see again."

The merchant removed the gold chain from around his neck and made a big show of extending it to Sulrad. It was heavy and inlaid with precious stones. He held it out to place it around Sulrad's neck.

"No, I do not need any adornment beyond these simple robes." Sulrad took the necklace and placed it in his pocket. Rotiaqua noticed that while he might not wear it, he certainly had no qualms about accepting it.

Rotiaqua refused further hospitality from the family, who wanted to take the opportunity of a royal visitor to improve their standing in the neighborhood. Rotiaqua was slightly embarrassed that she had rushed out without proper dress.

She returned to the castle and her bath, dressing properly before seeking out the Baron. She found him in his study, sitting beside a fire with a chalice full of wine and a book.

"Well?" he said as she entered the room.

She took a seat next to him and motioned the servant for a glass of wine. "He healed the girl. He also took a very expensive necklace as payment ... Well, not as payment, more of a gratuity, but he took it nonetheless."

"Must look silly with those black robes he's determined to wear."

"He didn't wear it; he just took it and pocketed it."

"Hmmm ... we may have to start a tax on this religion. Sounds like he's profiting nicely by it already."

"I don't like it," Rotiaqua said. She took the proffered wine and drank heavily. It had been a long day and she was eager to get some rest.

"I don't much care for it myself, but if he can keep the King's men at bay, I'm inclined to put up with him. If he can convince some of these rich merchants to hand over a little more of their precious coin, I can learn to like him."

"I thought you were strictly against magic in any form."

"We all have to make compromises. Don't I keep telling you that?"

That evening Oadry turned down the bed and lit a fire for Rotiaqua, who sat at the desk and placed a large candle in the holder. Rotiaqua reached out with her mind and lit the flame. She stared into it searching for the boy she'd seen before. Her senses reached out to the hovel where he lived.

There was only a pile of ashes and a heap of charred logs where the hovel had been. Rotiaqua's heart quickened. Where was he? What had had happened to the only person who had ever been able to connect with her through the fire?

She panicked, searching around the area with her senses, but she could not find him. There was only the body of a dog that lay beneath the remains of the hovel. She sensed him, though; just a slight trace remained of his presence. He had been here after the fire. He might still be alive.

She calmed herself and followed the faint trail of his path. He had stopped at another farm not far from his hovel; that much was clear. He had spent some time there. There were graves. His essence was particularly strong on one of them, less so with the rest.

She moved on.

He'd walked towards the town. She could feel his essence. She followed until it got close to the castle. He was near. He was in the castle.

In the gaol.

He was locked in the gaol, not far from where she sat. Why was he there? She reached out to him. He was asleep, weak from hunger and exhaustion.

She prodded him with her mind, trying to rouse him in his dark cell. He came awake and looked around as if trying to focus on her image. She suspected he would have a hard time seeing her without the fire to channel his thoughts, but he blinked and peered right at her.

She saw him start when he recognized her. He pulled back, and bumped his head on the wall.

"I don't know why this keeps happening. Please forgive me."

He pulled away, trying to break the contact. She panicked and reached out to him. "No, wait. I've been searching for you. I've been trying to contact you. Please don't go."

"Why do you want to talk to me? I already have enough trouble."

"I saw what happened to your hovel. I was worried about you. Are you all right?"

"I'm in the gaol. They're going to take off my hand. No, I'm not all right."

"Why are they going to take your hand off? Are you a thief?" She didn't think he was the type to steal, at least she hoped not. She had only had that brief conversation with him. Her maid said all of the small folk stole, given the opportunity.

"I'm no thief. I brought a young girl along with me to town. She ran off into the market and the Guards grabbed me. They accused me of training her to steal for me. They threw me in the gaol and now they're going to take off my hand as punishment. They won't listen to me when I tell them what happened."

Rotiaqua looked at his face in the flame. He was terrified. She knew she should just forget him, but she believed him. Rotiaqua didn't know why. She just did, and he had magic. He was the only one who could talk to her like this. Rotiaqua was lonely and needed a friend; maybe he would finally be the one who understood what it was like to have magic and have to keep it hidden.

Rotiaqua decided to take a chance.

"Wait there. I'll be right down to get you out of there."

He glanced up at her in surprise. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you're my friend."

Rotiaqua didn't wait for his response; she extinguished the candle flame with a thought and scrambled into her dress. She stepped into her sandals and rushed off to the gaol.

Twice, city Guards stopped her to ask her what she was doing out so late. She told them she was on an errand for the Baron and they let her pass.

The gaol was below ground level, near the corner of the castle where the sewage pipe drained over the side of the rock ledge. It was damp, smelly, and dark. She knocked on the door to no avail. She kept at it until the gaol keeper arrived.

He was sleepy and confused. His hair was a mess and he blinked at the light from the lantern she carried. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly through the small portal in the door.

"I need you to release a prisoner." She leaned in to the portal to get a better look inside.

"Come back tomorrow morning." The gaol keeper slammed the portal shut.

She knocked on the door again. "Do you know who I am?" she screamed at the door as she pounded on it. "I am the Baron's daughter and I demand you open this door."

The portal opened once more. The face inside looked skeptical and fearful. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

Rotiaqua held her hand up to the portal showing him her ring with the Baron's crest engraved on it. "How about this?"

The portal shut once more, this time with less violence. There was a clatter and the door swung open to reveal a short man half dressed in the uniform of the Guard. The gaol keeper ran his hand through his hair to straighten it. "Apologies, Your Ladyship. I didn't recognize you." He squinted at her. "Why are you here?"

"You have a young man wrongly imprisoned. He was accused of thievery and placed in your gaol to await the headsman. I want him released."

"Well, you know what thieving these folks are doing. There were so many people driven from their land lately, they have infested the city like a plague. They show up in the town without a place to stay or food to eat. Lots of them are turning to thievery to keep body and soul together. Why do you think this one was falsely accused?"