War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 10
Martya did her own bit of magic then, but didn’t speak. Nothing in the man, Lonn Verit, changed in any way.
Still, the red-haired man, his white clothing showing dingy smudges in places and spital down his front, stood there, shaking.
“How long?”
Anders didn’t really know, but understood that the man was desperate.
“Some hours, at least. Possibly longer. Baron Kilroy, can you lead this gentleman to my chamber, in... Three hours? For your part, Sir, if you can hold on, until then? I’ll hurry, I promise you.”
There was a tense nod. A thing that seemed to bring real pain.
“Yesss. Do it!” It seemed to be taking a real act of will for the man to not swing his fist at Anders’ head. The muscles bunched under his shirt, fighting against the impulse.
He simply turned and walked away, trying to figure out what he was going to need. After thirty paces, Martya started to whisper to him.
“You’ll need to remove the mass, taking it through the solid flesh, leaving the brain itself unharmed. At the same time, you have to seal the wound, inside, or it will cause him to bleed there, ending his life. You have some time, since he won’t die from this for six or seven months. I didn’t even bother to check, which was... Well, as Martya, I’m not a healer, so that would have done nothing, even if I’d known. Can you learn two new spell components in four hours?”
Anders sighed, the words having been very helpful.
“I can. Really, even doing one per hour isn’t hard at all. I’ll need to feel what I’m doing, to direct the energy... I can do this. Hopefully.”
That seemed to be correct. At least Lady Martya, perhaps one of the greatest magic users to have ever lived, didn’t say he wasn’t right about the possibility of failure. Instead of worrying over it, he marched, rather firmly, to his room, alone. There was work to do, after all.
Chapter seven
Anders had to fight his way up to the real world, after some unknown time. He didn’t bother rousing himself to a great extent, simply standing from his chair, taking the water pitcher from his wash basin and then finding one of his pens. Concentrating on what he desired to happen more clearly, this time. The last time he’d tried it, about two hours before, the other pen had moved halfway into the side of his water pail, and got stuck there. Exploding when it happened, with a mighty pop. There had been splinters that had driven into his flesh, in five places.
Those had been ignored, after he’d pulled the wood out of himself. They weren’t lethally deep, and past that, bothering with it would take too much time.
This time, as he muttered the spell, he used the reworked component.
“Li nik uffa lod ere ot ere fen ot...” He drew the line for the pen to travel, his eyes closed, opening them to watch the wood and metal piece pass through the clay of the pitcher, without warping or leaving a mark. Not even a subtle disruption was made at the passing.
He followed the passage, in his mind, not dropping it until the object was directly in the center of the empty space.
Then he pulled it out, and did the new spell, over and over, until there was a knock on the door. A tentative thing, that didn’t sound like what the enraged Count could manage. When he checked who was there, with his thoughts, Anders was a bit surprised.
Of the people who might have arrived there, to watch him work, scold him for doing so, or even just to tell him the Count had, wisely, changed his mind about letting some child use magic on him, two of the people beyond his door simply weren’t the ones he would have ever considered.
Opening it, he stood back and bowed, poorly, his hands limp at his sides.
“Enter. Please, Count Verit, sit here.” His voice was dead sounding, not at all lively or even just calm. The man seethed, having to be held back by the woman that had come, for some reason. She was struck in the side of the face, hard enough that she fell back. Not enough to force her to let go of the arm, however.
Princess Peri was stronger than he would have figured.
Anders spoke again.
“Quickly, Count. Master yourself for a moment. This won’t take long.” He left out the idea that it might kill him, but it was incredibly clear to him that everyone there thought that was the likely outcome. “Please, release his arms. He is the master of himself now.”
Slowly, seeming uncertain, the man there, King Mathias, did that, as did the Princess. The others were familiar, but Anders paid so little attention to them that they might as well have not been there. No one spoke, until the Count, using pure will to subdue his rage, forced himself into the wooden chair, grabbing it so hard that the seat creaked under the pressure of his hands.
The spell was the most complicated thing he’d ever done of that nature. Anders had, on two occasions, while making sculptures from metal, had to speak longer and many times he’d had to dictate full letters from memory, into a spell, but for healing, this was the single hardest thing he’d ever even considered.
Then he summed the ten minutes of speaking up in one single word. One that, out of everyone in the room, only he understood.
“Fen.” Now.
He held his right hand out, to the side of the Count’s red colored head, following what took place with his wizard skills, ready to scramble and struggle to save the man, if he’d made a survivable mistake. As the now intangible mass released, the blood vessels there sealed over, healing, before the liquid of his essential being could leak even a single drop. Perfectly, becoming smooth, without scarring. Before the flesh came through the side of the skull, the man’s eyes snapped open, and he relaxed, visibly. Then the errant growth fell into Anders’ palm, looking wet, red and dark gray. It was warmer than his hand.
Moving back, Anders secured the growth in a bit of linen, left over from his last bit of cloth armor making. It was literal scrap, and was settled on his wash basin, since he ate at his table on occasion. Even in a trance, there were things he didn’t want to associate that way in his mind.
No one spoke for nearly half a minute, closing a bit on the Count, who started to laugh. It sounded a little deranged, for a few moments.
“Oh, my! That is so much better! I can think again. Finally.” He moved then, and started to hug people. Princess Peri first. She had a large red mark on her cheek, which was starting to turn into a visible wound, raised and red. “I’m so sorry, sister! I struck you...”
Anders, still too deep into his own mind to care about proprieties, spoke blankly.
“Move then. Let her sit and I’ll take care of that.”
The man didn’t scramble, even if he could do that safely enough. Even being hit in the head wouldn’t damage him. Not any more than the blow would do to anyone else, at least. Anders didn’t mention that, simply touching the Princess on the side of the face, in a way that probably should have had one of the men striking him. No one did.
Possibly waiting for the healing to take place first.
“Lahom bonista insana indict swerla, ere ot ere, neg ot neg, sot ot neth, fen ot un bah.” He kept his mind on her skin, the swelling and bruising fading totally, over the course of one moment.
It wasn’t a big thing, but was visible enough that Count Verit, sounding rather friendly, now that the center of his brain wasn’t under pressure, spoke, his tone kind.
“You are an amazing healer, Sir. What I hold, my lands, my title, I pl...”
Anders waved him to silence, preventing what was coming. After all, if he accepted everything from the man for a single healing, such would be too expensive for almost anyone else, after. Everyone else looked at him as if he were being strange. The King, at least, seemed to understand what he was doing. There was a feeling from the man. One of pride, for some reason.
“There’s a caravan moving to the front, in two weeks. If you could, perhaps, send some small gift or comfort for the men there? It has been a harsh winter, I hear.”
For some reason, the Count, instead of being upset over the interruption, took him by the shoulders.
“At once. I... Will this need to be done again? I have some hours, to dispose of my duties, do you think?”
Anders checked the man again, then let his head fall, artlessly, to the side.
“The work will hold. The healing is already done, so you don’t need to rest in bed, other than for your comfort. Your body has been under great stress, for a very long while, so it will take some time for that to return to normal, but regular living should hold you in good stead that way. I imagine you will have a headache for several days. Nothing too bad, compared to what was happening. It isn’t a return to illness, just your body catching up. If it becomes too bad, come and find me, or Master Willet, and we will dull the pain for you.”
He stood then, and bowed again, even if it wasn’t actually time to do that. It felt oddly removed from reality. Everyone did it back, with first courtly, from Baron Kilroy and King Mathias. Princess Peri curtsied, rather cutely, seeming younger than when she’d come in the door. Happier, suddenly.
“This... Affliction is truly gone now?” She seemed hesitant, as if he might take offense at the words. He’d just said it was, but reassuring people was part of being a healer. Even if he wasn’t one of those, he’d memorized some books on the topic. Several of them had mentioned things like that.
So he made himself smile.
“It is gone. It can’t come back soon. This has been a problem for some years?”
Everyone in the room shook their heads, except the Count. He nodded, his face twisting a bit, into an almost dreamy expression.
“Since I was fifteen. I hid it, most of my life, but the rage came then. Tainting everything I did. I fought it, but of late... I failed.”
He seemed shamed by that, which had Anders shrugging.
“As even the most powerful of will would have. Truly, you probably have the focus needed to practice magic. That or advanced memory skills. You’re a Count though, so might not have time for that kind of study? If you do, then we meet in the mornings, in this room, for now. If not, then there is no harm in it. That isn’t a demand on you, simply me noticing that you have learned to school your mind, even if you didn’t realize it was taking place. A person with such will might do much, if he chose to.”
The reaction to those words were mixed.
Baron Kilroy winced, and moved, cautiously, to pat the younger man on the arm.
“He means no insult, Lonn...”
Peri actually took three steps back and looked afraid, and King Mathias chuckled, rather softly.
“So far, the lessons are being given only to princes, queens and princesses...”
After standing for a moment, Anders nodded.
“Jeld the serving man here is supposed to come for that as well. If we can free him from his morning work schedule? I’m growing tired of the servants refusing to aid those with magic, without great fear, so I figure that teaching a third of them to use such will quell some of that. I think the point was to suggest that there are interesting people to meet, if you can attend, Count Verit? If you cannot... Well, send a missive and I’ll arrange introductions for you? The same offer goes to all of you. All of it.”
He turned then, and looked out the window. It was just turning dark out.
“Forgive me. I must take the students to the woods, so that that we can make magical dwellings and beds for the night. We should take a guard with us. Perhaps Demo Gull?”
It wouldn’t be needed, even in the woods outside the castle. Not unless an attack came. In which case... Honestly, his group of Princes and Princesses would probably have to argue over who got to kill the people coming to bother them. Unless there were too many of them. In which case running was in order. Possibly flying away. That was hard to pull off, for him, but he could do it. Most of them knew how, already, of course. They didn’t practice it, since it wasn’t easy or pleasant to do.
That had to stop, of course. Being too kind to himself that way could be his end, if battle came. Which it almost certainly would.
The King patted him on the shoulder.
“Yes, Erold mentioned that adventure to me, earlier. We also need to speak, if possible? Perhaps after first meal?”
Anders smiled up at the man, who was tall, but not so much that it left him feeling tiny, any longer. That probably meant he’d grown, not noting it happening.
“Yes, Sire. We meet at your office?” That was a place that Anders had heard of but never been to.
“Join us for the meal? Bring your students. Including... Welk, was it?”
“Jeld, Sire. That might be a bit much to ask of him, for the first day, but I’m willing to stress him a bit, if it would serve. He’s supposed to be seeing to the Ambassadors and the visitors... I need to check on that first. The servants have not been doing their best work there. Prince Daren and I are working on it, along with Jeld and Farrow, for the time being. I plan to take anyone learning magic with me, at least for the first leg of the coming trip, if allowed.” He grinned then and shook his head, trying to clear it.
“Ah! Sorry there. I went deep, into my mind, to learn what was needed for the first bit of work. I’m not normally this demanding.”
Baron Kilroy snorted then, and moved to slap Anders on the back.
“Lies, I say! Lies! Prince Anders here demands so much of himself that all around him must feel the pressure of it, constantly. Now, if you aren’t needed to save my friend’s life any longer, I was asked to let you know that Sir Humphries seeks an audience with you, about the coming effort at road work? No one is truly certain if that’s a jest or not. Depak Sona simply smiled, in a mysterious and manly fashion, when I inquired with him and suggested I check with you. Though... He also suggested that it seemed a task of the sort that the Great One Salina should be able to manage?”
That was the magician being playful and puckish, of course. That or backing up what Anders had tried earlier, heaping responsibility on Salina, to prevent her from giving up too easily.
“You know, that does sound correct. Still, this is Istlan, and asking travelers to do too much for us would be rude. On the other side, they, some of them, did come to continue their magical practices and one way to get better is to do hard things. We will be building and readying roads, however. Even if it’s only Daren and myself. Prince Daren, I mean.”
The King nodded, his face serious.
“Understood. It might be best not to stress these ladies, over much. Even Princess Mathia? Women are delicate of constitution, after all.”
Anders laughed and shook his head at the words, which got a frown from the older man.
“Not in magic, Sire. Women are often twice as powerful as men in that craft. Which is why I set Princess Mathia the task of guarding the castle here and the lands around it, from attack, along with the guards, if such comes. Eventually, that is. She has much to learn, first, but she will.” Then he bowed to the man, who was, after all, the highest of high lords of Istlan. “Also, did you know that I can assign Princesses to do work? I only just found that out, earlier today, when I tried it and wasn’t beheaded for my foolishness.”
Instead of scolding him, the King sighed. It was a mighty, and much put upon, thing.
“Ah? Be careful there, Prince Anders... If you make a suggestion in jest, or even meaning it and it is not taken well, that can lead to troubles. I’d rather not have that sort of thing here, if it can be avoided?”
He nodded.
“I take your meaning, Sire. Still, it’s a real enough goal. If such a thing, an attack, were to come here, then having people here to defend us seems correct.”
That, interestingly, got a nod.
“Yes. Be wary, however, and go gently there. Now, you’re planning to take a group of young women to the forest, alone?”
Anders saw the trap there, and nearly stammered, since that wasn’t actually his plan at all.
“That... I see your point. It wasn’t my intent to suggest... Well! I guess I should cancel that bit, then?”
Count Verit shook his head, smiling.
“No, fair Prince. None will doubt your good intent in this. Perhaps you should invite some other ladies, to protect the virtue of those being given lessons? A night in the woods might not be comfortable, so... Someone hardy?”
Princess Peri took a deep breath.
“I shall go and stand for my daughter, and our friends from the south? We should invite someone to guard us, from Barquea?” She looked at the King, who turned to Anders.
“Ideas on that?”
He had some, so nodded.
“Depak Sona, Hoatha and Lady Martya?”
The King frowned then.
“Martya? I know her of course, but why lump her in with those others?”
He shrugged, then told a partial truth.
“Well, my mother and Prince Alpert decided that we were to wed, in some few years, so I figured to get her used to working with me, if allowed. That may have been spoken in jest, of course, but real sounding plans were made for it. Depak thinks it’s a capital idea. Then, I think he might be happy that we weren’t plotting to have him married off. Hoatha... Well, we’re steering him at Eltha Tenet... Who we should also invite.” He shook his head again then. “You do understand that I’m intending them to raise a small palace, on your lands? A permanent thing, with all amenities. It’s a bit mean of me to suggest they do this in the dark, but we can, perhaps, take turn making lights? Or I could do it... I might do that.”
He held his breath then, since the King might not want that kind of thing outside his walls. Instead, he beamed, as if it were a present.
“Very well, Prince Anders. Something attractive? I must admit, I was suspecting bed rolls under the stars. I’ll inspect it in the afternoon, if you recommend such to me, in the morning?”
There was a bow then, from the King, meaning they were done. Also, in Anders room, so they all left, with Anders heading to the Ambassadorial wing, first. Just in case Jeld and Farrow’s nerve had failed them.
A thing that, when he knocked on the first door, the one at the far end, was proved to be false, instantly. A rather more sober seeming Ambassador Spent answered the thing himself, clearly having been working at missives on the same table that Depak had once used for similar tasks.
