Wizard Pair (Book 3) (8 page)

"Because I know him. He says he didn't do it and I believe him. Where is he?"

"What's he look like?"

"He's about fourteen summers old, almost as tall as me, brown hair, farmer's attire ..."

The gaol keeper looked at her. "Sounds like lots of folk who have been arrested lately."

"He said they caught him today and were going to take his hand off." She gestured to her right hand, mimicking the headsman's ax.

"Oh, that one. I think I know who you're talking about."

The gaol keeper hurried down the dark passageway and quickly returned with the young man in tow. He was in chains, his clothes were torn, and he had bruises on his face and arms.

When he caught her eye, he lowered his head and said. "Thank you, My Lady. I don't know how I will ever repay you."

"Take those chains off him." Rotiaqua leveled a gaze of pure vitriol at the gaol keeper, who rushed to unlock the chains and set Zhimosom free.

"Come with me," Rotiaqua said. She turned to leave, only to find the young man collapsed on the floor behind her.

Livery

Zhimosom woke in a strange bed. His thought came to him slowly. He was in a bed, not a cell. He sat up, rubbing his head. There was a lump on the back of it that hurt when he touched it.

"Gently, you hit your head pretty hard. Take it easy."

Zhimosom blinked to clear his eyes. There stood a man in his middle ages, just starting to go bald, dressed in fine clothes. The man stood beside the bed with a tray of bread, fruit, cheese, and meat, and a jug of water.

He set the tray down on the table next to the bed. He fluffed the pillow and placed it behind Zhimosom's back as he helped him into a sitting position.

"What happened?"

"You hit your head when you fell. You must have passed out from exhaustion."

"I was ... I was in the gaol. How did I get here?" Zhimosom looked around the room. It was a nice room in a nice inn. He had only vague memories of the woman who came to get him.

He looked around the room for her, but she was not there.

"The woman who came to get me..."

"She's gone back to the castle. She asked me to stay with you for a few days until you get your strength back."

"Who are you?" Zhimosom asked. Had the Baron's daughter rescued him from the gaol? He thought he remembered that, but why had she left him here? Who was this man caring for him? The questions jumbled through his mind still looking for the answers.

"I am Heyk. I am the manservant to mistress Rotiaqua. She liberated you from the gaol and brought you here last night. She asked me to watch over you until you regained your strength."

"Why did she help me?" Zhimosom recalled meeting her in the flames, and again when she came to him in a dream in the gaol. It was starting to come back to him.

"I don't know why she chose to help you. A manservant does not ask why the Lady does anything."

"Is she really a Lady? Rotiaqua?"

"Of course. She is the Baron's daughter."

"I saw her before ..." Zhimosom didn't want to admit he had seen her in the fire.

Heyk laughed. "I'm sure you are mistaken. Mistress Rotiaqua is the heir to the Barony. It must have been another you saw."

"Where are we?" Zhimosom asked.

"You are at the Regal Hound, a public house. Your stay has been secured for the rest of this moon so you will have time to rest and recover. Her Ladyship has covered your room and board until then.

"I will be here until nightfall, and then I must return to my duties at the castle. I will look in on you from time to time, just to make sure you are doing well."

"Will she be back?" Zhimosom asked. He wanted to thank her for her kindness, but he was uncomfortable around the nobles, even though she had rescued him from the gaol. He rubbed his wrist thinking of how they'd meant to take his hand.

"She did not indicate to me one way or another." Heyk picked up the water, poured a cup, and held it out.

Zhimosom grabbed it and drank it down without stopping for a breath. He reached for the tray and stuffed his mouth with bread. It was soft and moist, not the type he was used to.

"The girl?" Zhimosom asked chewing noisily. "There was a girl with me when I came into town. What happened to her?"

"I don't know anything about that."

Zhimosom held out the cup and Heyk refilled it. He drank it all again. It was cool and went down his throat like liquid silk, and soothed the dryness that lingered there.

"I have to find her," Zhimosom said. "Her family was killed … She ran off into the market."

"I'm sure you will find her in time. For now, I suggest you rest and eat."

Heyk stayed with him until the noon meal. "I must be getting back to the Castle. If you need anything, ask the proprietor. He will see to your needs."

"Will you be back?" Zhimosom didn't want to lose his only connection to Rotiaqua.

"I will check on you in a few days to make sure everything is to your liking. I have duties in the Castle that I must attend." Heyk bowed and backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind himself.

Zhimosom wanted to get in touch with Rotiaqua to thank her for her help. He lit the candle on the nightstand and sat cross-legged on the bed. He opened his mind to her, searching for her. He could tell she was in the castle, but she was not open to him. He felt a slight sign of recognition, but she did not appear, so he extinguished the candle and lay down. He was still tired and sore from his time in the gaol and the treatment of the Guards. He lay back on the bed and slept.

When Zhimosom awoke, it was already dark. He felt something pulling at him, as if someone were calling his name from a distance, but he could not make it out. He reached out for the connection and felt Rotiaqua trying to contact him.

He sat up and lit the candle, settling into a comfortable position, and opened himself to her.

"You're all right, then?" she asked.

"Yes. I am doing much better. Still sore, but well fed and my injuries have been tended to. Your man Heyk was most kind."

"I was so worried about you. I'm glad you are well. I felt you try to contact me, but I was engaged. This was the first chance I had to get away from everyone and reach out to you."

"Thank you for your kindness."

"Think nothing of it." Rotiaqua leaned into the fire. Her face was as clear as if she were in the room with him.

"I need your help. There is a Wizard here. He is trying to get my father to let him start up a Temple. He promised to help my father against the King if father lets him do this. I'm worried."

Rotiaqua shifted in the fire. She was in her room as she had been the first time Zhimosom saw her. She looked upset.

"I don't trust him," she said. "Father was so dead set against Wizards, but he just let this one walk right in, and gave him whatever he wanted."

"What do you think the Wizard is up to?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can find him, the way that I found you. We can look in on him; see what he's doing."

"You know how to do that?" Zhimosom asked.

"How do you think I found you?" Rotiaqua laughed the pleasant laugh Zhimosom had heard from her that first night.

"I don't know. I wasn't doing anything but opening myself to the fire, and there you were."

"I was searching for someone like me," Rotiaqua said. "We can do the same with the Wizard."

"Will he be able to see us?"

"Not if we're careful." Rotiaqua reached her hand out of the fire. "Care to try?"

Zhimosom was worried. Rotiaqua had been able to see him. She had even held the contact open when he wanted to flee. If this Wizard were powerful, he might be able to do the same. Then what would happen to them? "I would like to, but I fear I am still a little weak. I don't want to risk it just yet."

"Tomorrow, then. I'll contact you when I can."

Zhimosom felt the contact break and, once again, he was alone in his room.

By the next evening, Zhimosom felt his strength returning. He sat before the fireplace staring at the flames as he so often did at home. He let his mind drift through memories of the hovel he shared with Zheet that was now only a pile of ashes. He felt a tug, a familiar presence. He opened himself to it and Rotiaqua's face appeared in the flames.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine. I think I'm almost back to normal."

"I'm glad to hear that. Are they taking good care of you?"

"They are. I am grateful for all your assistance. I thought I was going to lose my hand." He absentmindedly rubbed his writs as he talked.

"We Wizards have to stick together." She winked at him from the flames. "I feel your power and it's growing quickly. Soon, your power will surpass my own. That's why I need your help. I'm afraid of the Wizard my father has allowed into our lives. He's powerful, but there's something strange about him."

"How can I help?" Zhimosom asked. He was only a poor farmer and wasn't even sure where he was going to find his next meal, once her generous support ran out.

"Can you sense the Wizard? Can you tell me if he is evil or benign?"

"I don’t' know how to sense magic. Can you show me how you do it?" Zhimosom followed her lead. He reached out with his senses and traced the route her magic took. He felt the presence of the Wizard in the castle, but it was indistinct and insubstantial. "I can sense him, but nothing more."

Rotiaqua held her hand out to him. Zhimosom was taken aback when the hand extended out of the flame and became solid. He reached out and gingerly took it in his own.

Her grasp was firm but not too strong. Her hand looked fragile and smooth next to his. He felt the slight plumpness beneath her firm flesh, and then the power surge hit him.

Without warning, he found he could sense her whole being. Her magic was open to him and he could feel what she was feeling. Zhimosom was shocked. What had happened? Somehow, their magic had linked together. He knew her much more intimately than anyone he'd ever known before. He was instantly comfortable, at home with the bright golden glow of her power as much as he was with his own.

He saw her reaction. She was just as shocked as he was.

"What was that?" Zhimosom asked.

"I don't know." She smiled at him. "I can sense where you are, and how you're feeling."

Zhimosom drew back slightly without even thinking. He looked at her in amazement for a few moments, and then relaxed. It seemed their fate was tied together somehow.

Rotiaqua sat quietly as Zhimosom absorbed the shock before she leaned in to speak.

"We need to find out what that Priest is up to. I can lead you."

Together they reached out to probe the Wizard. She guided his examination as they found the room in the castle where the Wizard sat. He perched on a chair, bending over something on the table before him. The setting moon cast a shaft of illumination on the wall behind the Wizard.

Zhimosom shifted his perspective until he could see what the Wizard was doing. On the table before him was a rabbit, bound by simple leather thongs.

Sulrad sat quietly, a knife enfolded between hands that were lifted as in prayer. As the moonlight struck the rabbit, he drew the knife across its throat. Blood rushed out of the wound, covering the knife, the table, and Sulrad's hands.

The blood began to glow a dark green, the green of fresh cut grass. Lit from within, it became brighter and brighter until there was a flash.

The rabbit and the spilled blood vanished.

Sulrad's power surged as the animal vaporized. The Priest sat back in his chair smiling as the swirling dark-green energy wrapped itself around him and sank into his body.

Zhimosom was shocked. Sulrad had taken the life force of the rabbit into his body. Magic was so new to Zhimosom, he thought magic came from within and that how much a person had was up to fate. Sulrad had taken magic and stored it up within himself. He clearly planned to use the sacrifices to make himself so powerful no one could challenge him.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Rotiaqua said. "I could feel it in his magic."

"We had better keep an eye on him," Zhimosom said. He bid his farewell to Rotiaqua and dropped their connection.

A few days past as Zhimosom recovered. He worried that soon he would need to support himself and decided to seek work at the stables in the castle. The stable master was a rough man who had a ruddy complexion and towered over the rest of his staff. He rose from his stool and limped into the doorway when he saw Zhimosom approach.

"We don't need any help." He held up his hand.

"Sir, my family was burned out of our farm. I only seek work to feed myself. I don't eat much and I am accustomed to hard labor."

"Look around you. The whole city is flooded with refugees. Folks come flocking here when things get tough out there and expect us hard working folk to take 'em in and feed 'em."

Zhimosom made his arguments. "I can clean stalls. I can carry hay. I can fetch water for the horses. I don't mind hard work."

The stable master reached behind his stool and brought out a whip. It was long and sturdy looking and had strands of leather tipped with iron barbs. He shook it at Zhimosom. "I said we don't have any work. Be gone."

Zhimosom hung his head and turned back to the inn he would have to vacate all too soon. What was he going to do for food and shelter once Rotiaqua's charity ran out?

He scoured the town looking for work, but the answer was much the same everywhere. The town was choked with refugees, able bodied men and women who had been forced off their farms by the war.

That night, as he sat by the fire, he was consumed with his misfortune. Zheet dead, the farm nothing but ashes, his brothers dead in the war, and even the distant memory of losing his mother; it all seemed so overwhelming. He was totally and utterly alone.

The flames danced on the logs, licking them with their consuming tongues. Zhimosom stared at the glowing embers, so much like his own life. They would soon turn to ash and be swept out with the morning's refuse.