She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 7

  But Samuel took the chance to speak up. After the ravings of Celios, his words would not seem so outrageous. ‘I have also heard something of these demons. Is there no chance that these warnings should also be considered?’

  ‘Of course not. No,’ Jacobs stated resolutely. ‘This is the stuff of nonsense and fairy tales. We have problems of flesh and blood to face, not fantasies, Lord Samuel.’

  ‘But demons and creatures do seem to exist. We defeated one at Hammenton, and even our own Grand Master Anthem has mastered the Great Spell of Summoning. Is it not conceivable that some truth may lay in these rumours?’

  ‘Utterly not,’ Anthem said, raising his voice. ‘While it may be possible to summon beasts that seem hellish to us, the notion of demons is inconceivable. I think that if you are listening to sources that purvey such bunk, Lord Samuel, you would do well to turn away your ear. As High Lord Jacobs affirms, we have no time to entertain nonsense when lives are at stake.’

  Samuel nodded and accepted the clear direction that he should remain quiet on the matter.

  ‘If there is little else to learn here, let us rest,’ High Lord Jacobs then announced. ‘We will meet with the Empress this evening. I’m sure our recent arrivals also need rest after their arduous journey.’

  With that, most of the men dispersed slowly from the room, leaving the last of the Lions scratching their heads and in deep discussion. Lomar walked with Samuel along the halls, as Goodfellow rushed ahead to organise a room for them.

  ‘I hear you had a harrowing escape, Samuel,’ the brown-skinned magician stated. His face was marked with deep wrinkles of kindness, and they only seemed to be deepening with age, while the rest of his skin around the creases remained smooth. It gave him a mixed appearance of wizened age and mirthful youth.

  ‘True, but at least we did escape.’

  ‘And no word of Eric?’

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing,’ Samuel said, ‘although I have the feeling he will be back when it suits him.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’m almost certain I felt him use his Journey spell. As such, he is probably skulking around the city somewhere, waiting for an opportune time to show himself.’

  ‘I thought he was having trouble with that spell,’ Lomar suggested.

  ‘So he made out but, in reality, he guarded it like a jealous child. If he does return, I’m going to speak to the Grand Masters about him. Such a spell could make a great difference to the war.’

  ‘True, but you should take your concerns to High Lord Jacobs first. He is leader of the Council. That is the correct point to voice your concerns.’

  ‘I understand, but you know me, Lomar. I’ve never been one to follow such formalities.’

  Lomar smiled warm-heartedly. ‘So I’ve come to realise—but you would do better to keep the Council onside where possible. Few of us Outlanders are fond of formalities, but the Turians cannot live without them. In any case, no one can make Eric give up his spell unless he wishes. I think I understand why he is hesitant to give up the knowledge of such a magic. Firstly, everyone likes to feel special—even magicians like us. He has great ability, but the frustrations of youth still cling to him. Perhaps he will not feel so protective of his skills after another year or two, as he continues to mature. Secondly, once he does release that knowledge, it will undoubtedly make its way into the hands of every capable magician in Amandia, Turia and beyond. No matter how hard we tried to keep such a secret, it could never be kept for long. There are very few Great Spells like this left unfound and, although not many magicians would be capable of casting it, its effect would be tremendous. Life would be infinitely more treacherous if magicians or even entire armies could appear anywhere they wanted. Eric may be acting selfishly but, in truth, it is probably for the best.’

  Samuel nodded reluctantly. ‘You are probably correct.’

  ‘I usually am,’ Lomar added.

  ‘Then we have that in common, too,’ Samuel added and Lomar smiled in return. ‘But one more thing. It has been some time since I last spoke with anyone from the Circle, but their members seem adamant that demons do exist and that the return of their kind is a reality. Could it really be true?’

  ‘I am sceptical of such things, Samuel, but we are magicians after all and must we consider all possibilities, no matter how far-fetched.’

  ‘So you believe it?’

  ‘I’m not ruling it out. However,’ Lomar continued, ‘it looks like the Paatin armies will be here long before any demons come to harry us, so there is little point debating the fact. We must prioritise our threats; therefore, I must agree with Grand Master Anthem on this. Let’s put the notion aside and focus on greater things for now.’

  Samuel considered the point thoughtfully. ‘And you have been into the desert? Do you know anything of the Paatin people?’

  ‘Sadly, very little. I have skirted their lands, for the Kabushy delta lies to the south of those dry wastes. My people never felt the desire to explore north, for there was little point, and Kabushy do not like to leave their wetlands but once I began my studies as a magician, I ventured there on occasion to quench my curiosity. I explored the very edges of their lands and learned some of their tongue, but I never saw anything that would have led me to believe they were capable of such armies. As Grand Master Tudor stated, they are a quiet and noble people, solitary and nomadic.’

  ‘Then the desert seems to have some great secrets hidden in its heart.’

  ‘Well said and true,’ Lomar said. ‘But come, you must get some rest and I have much to do. I am sure we will discover much more about the Paatin in the coming days.’

  With that, the two parted and Samuel set about finding what had become of Goodfellow and his room.

  The two of them retired for the rest for the day to a small room in the heights of the Mage Tower, overlooking the vast city that sprawled and cluttered below them. Goodfellow was already awake and looking out the window when Samuel opened his eyes.

  ‘There’s someone at the door,’ he said, still looking up at the ceiling.

  ‘Oh?’ Goodfellow responded, turning from the window and blinking the room back to clarity behind his spectacles.

  Samuel sat up and swung his legs to the floor. ‘Come in, Eric!’ he called.

  The handle turned and Eric Pot walked in sheepishly. ‘I see you both made it back safely.’ He shut the door behind him and leaned upon it hesitantly, waiting for them to respond.

  ‘We’ve been waiting for you to turn up,’ Samuel stated.

  Eric was obviously trying to think of an excuse, but then simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘What else could I do? I didn’t have time to take you with me.’

  ‘You used your Journey spell to return to Cintar?’ Goodfellow asked. Samuel thought that his bespectacled friend was going to reprimand the other Eric, but Goodfellow only continued on with excitement. ‘Astounding! That’s a long way. I didn’t realise you had such control.’

  ‘Yes. I arrived right in the middle of The Pride—which did surprise some of the patrons,’ Eric replied. ‘I didn’t even mean to use it at all. When I started to panic, I cast it without even knowing. I guess I was thinking how nice it would be to be back in my favourite old inn—and it happened.’

  ‘We could have done with your help, Eric,’ Samuel stated flatly. ‘You could have made all the difference.’

  ‘The battle was already lost, Samuel,’ Eric said in his defence. ‘I didn’t intend to leave and, once I had, I wasn’t about to risk going back. Anything could have happened.’

  ‘I guess we’ll never know.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now, Samuel,’ Goodfellow interceded. ‘What’s done is done. I’m just glad Eric is here and we know he’s safe and well.’

  ‘Does the Council know you’re here?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.

  ‘Now they do. At first, I had to lay low, but once you two and Grand Master Tudor returned, I told them I’d also just arrived. They seemed too busy to care all that
much.’

  Samuel shook his head. ‘You still don’t want them to know about your spell?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Eric said. ‘As if I don’t have enough trouble without restarting all that prophecy nonsense! If the Journey spell is needed, I will use it, but until then it will only cause trouble.’

  Samuel shook his head. ‘As you wish, Eric. Keep your secret. While others die, I hope you will be happy with yourself. The Emperor is dead and the prophecy was realised—remember? There’s no need to continue this secrecy. In all those days you were in hiding, it didn’t cross your mind that you could have at least told someone about the Paatin invaders? Defences could have been readied and lives saved. How many towns fell before Anthem returned and gave the warning?’

  Eric pulled open the door and started to leave, visibly annoyed. ‘I would have if I could, Samuel. It seemed the right thing to do. You should be the one to talk about secrets.’ And with that he stoutly shut the door behind him.

  Samuel could sense as Eric descended the tower, the man’s familiar aura growing dim and intermingling with the other energies and life forces within the palace, finally becoming imperceptible. He only hoped Eric was referring to the secrets of the past—his ability to see magic and his invisibility to other magicians—rather than his dependence on the Argum Stone. He shuddered at the thought of anyone learning of his dependence on the ring or, even more, of anyone ordering him to surrender the ancient relic to the Order. It would leave him utterly defenceless and useless as a magician. He would have no reason to even exist.

  ‘Don’t be so hard on him, Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, pulling his black robes over his head and adjusting them into place over his shirt and trousers. ‘Everyone does something stupid occasionally. It’s just lucky we all made it back.’

  ‘We made it back. Others were not so lucky.’

  ‘Come on, Samuel. Don’t be so hard on him. You make mistakes, too. Remember?’

  To that, Samuel only scowled and lay back down on his bed.

  The two magicians were summoned again the next morning and they traced their route through the many floors and halls of the vast Imperial palace. In previous years, the chambers they passed had been filled with musicians and artists, dancers and artisans, as well as the wives and children of the palace staff and officials—but now most rooms were cold and empty. The war had taken its toll even here and the seat of the Empire had become something of a hollowed shell. The Emperor’s thirty-two wives—all prior to his last marriage with Empress Lillith—and forty-seven daughters were seldom seen, banished away within their rooms for their own safety.

  Empress Lillith was seated at the head of the table, resplendent in her blue and gold royal gown, which was tight-fitting about her bust and waist, but surrounded her legs with voluminous skirts. A small boy, the young heir to the Empire, name of Leopold, was standing quietly in the corner holding a small stuffed lion, with the Empress’ attendants all fussing around him. He was dressed in his smart yet snug outfit, so that it looked almost impossible for him to bend down or play. Still, he looked happy enough just standing with his toy and posturing it about.

  General Ruardin was seated beside the Empress, looking like a golden-armoured giant upon a minuscule chair—even though his seat was the same size as everyone else’s. Grand Master Anthem was the only magician there, for it seemed a meeting of the decision makers and bureaucrats of the Empire. With two vacant seats beside him, Anthem gestured for Samuel and Goodfellow to approach.

  ‘Sit, sit,’ the old magician urged the two young men. They did so hastily, for the room seemed to be waiting for them, all eyes following them to their seats. ‘Many of you know of Lord Samuel and this is Master Goodfellow. The two of them were witness to the events around Rampeny. Samuel, Eric—we have asked you to come because the assembly would like to ask you directly about the events. Please answer quickly and succinctly, as there is much to discuss and we have little time.’

  The man closest to the Empress, opposite General Ruardin, began. He had large lips and eyelids and somewhat reddened cheeks, giving him something of a foolish appearance but, as he was seated so near to the Empress, Samuel decided that he was not going to judge the man solely on such looks. He had heard many stories of the cunning and manipulative ways of some of the court officials and it would be a mistake to judge any of them on first appearances. ‘What do you two make of the battle at Rampeny? Tell us from the start what happened.’

  Samuel looked to Goodfellow for reassurance and then began to relate his story. ‘We were helping prepare Rampeny’s defences when the Gartens attacked—the initial assault was not so bad, but after a few days the Gartens received reinforcements and Captain Adell’s troops were exhausted. He was about to retreat when the three of us—Master Pot, Master Goodfellow and myself—set out to delay the Gartens as well as we could. We were achieving moderate success, when thankfully General Canard came to our aid, along with the Lions. We were doing well at that point, until a second force came at us from the south.’

  ‘Do you know how they came to be there?’ the man asked, jotting some notes on the pages before him, but Samuel could only shake his head.

  ‘No. At first, we thought it was General Warren’s men, for they came disguised in Imperial colours. It was only when they attacked that we knew there was something wrong.’

  ‘We still don’t know what happened to General Warren and his men, Chancellor Donovan,’ Anthem explained to the gathering. ‘I can only assume they were overcome by these new forces just after we separated.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ Chancellor Donovan remarked, ‘but this is not the time for speculation, Grand Master Anthem. We are here to gather what facts we can and make our judgements later, based on such evidence.’

  ‘As you say, Chancellor. Samuel, please continue.’

  Samuel swallowed and wet his lips, feeling the attention of the room bearing down on him. Looking at the men around him, he saw that none of them showed the slightest hint of empathy or support. In fact, they each seemed to be casting the look of judgement upon him. ‘Needless to say, we were pinned between the Gartens and the newcomers. In the end, when it became apparent that we could not win, Grand Master Tudor helped us to escape, while Grand Masters Anthem and Gallivan remained behind to battle.’

  ‘In your opinion, if you had stayed, could you have helped to decide the battle?’ asked another man, who had a tiny sliver of a black moustache sitting under his nose. Samuel had heard him referred to as Councillor Madhaven.

  ‘Not at all. If we had stayed, I believe the outcome would have been the same, except that we would have died, too. We were tremendously outnumbered. When we climbed to the top of the valley, we could see that the new army had, in fact, two forces. One attacked from the south and the other from the north, driving the Gartens towards us so we were forced to battle on both sides.’

  ‘And do you know the origin of these forces?’ a third man asked excitedly. ‘Do you know who they were?’

  ‘Grand Master Tudor believed them to be desert people. Indeed, they had dark skin and looked like some of the merchants I have seen in the markets. I think his judgement was fair.’

  ‘Do you know what they want or why they attacked us? Did they send any statements or demands?’ Donovan asked.

  Again, Samuel could only shake his head. ‘Not at all. I don’t think anyone knows.’

  There was quiet in the room while Chancellor Donovan scratched his chin in deep thought. ‘Very well,’ he said finally, with a closing tone.

  At this, Anthem waved his finger at the pair of magicians and gestured towards the door. ‘Wait outside,’ he whispered to them.

  Samuel and Goodfellow did as they were told without hesitation, keen to be from the room. They waited idly in the hall, until the door opened and the men all filed out with their papers and bundles cradled under their arms. Anthem poked his head out last and drew the two magicians back inside, where only the Empress and her attendants remained. Young Leopold
now slept, held in the arms of one of the seated ladies. His head had fallen back and his mouth was wide open towards the ceiling as he snorted in his sleep. He looked like a chick that had fallen asleep midway through begging for its dinner.

  ‘I wanted to speak with you two alone,’ the Empress said. Her face was calm and graceful. She was truly a regal beauty, which was even more remarkable considering her humble rural origins. ‘My advisers tell me so many wild and wonderful things. I never know what to believe.’

  But old Grand Master Anthem was not one to mince his words. ‘Those infernal imbeciles plan to send a delegation to meet the Paatin and warn them off. They refuse to accept that their precious Empire could be overwhelmed by desert savages. They probably think we must all be making up this story to cover our incompetence, as if we had somehow lost a few armies on the wayside. Or perhaps they think we sat down with the Paatin and had a fine afternoon tea! It boggles the mind! Forgive my scepticism, Your Majesty, but these cretins can’t see past their own Turian vanity.’

  ‘It seems remarkable that they could doubt us, Grand Master,’ said Goodfellow. ‘I didn’t think that anyone could doubt what we saw.’

  ‘Inconvenient facts are easily dismissed, Master Goodfellow.’

  ‘I must agree—in part at least,’ the Empress said. ‘Even General Ruardin, bless his golden heart, is blinded by his Imperial pride and is easily goaded by the others. What do you think is happening, Grand Master Anthem? Tell me what you believe these invaders are intending.’

  ‘It seems obvious the Paatin are taking advantage of our warring with the Gartens, but their final objective remains to be seen. Their motive could be anything from religious zeal to cultural intolerance, or simple plunder. Whatever the case, it seems sure they are set on taking Cintar, for reports indicate they have plotted a course directly towards us. We know nothing about them and we can’t even begin to guess their motive but, from what I can see, they do pose a great threat.

  ‘Even so, the Empire is in danger of falling long before even one bow is drawn before the city. These bureaucrats need to stop their filibustering and start making plans. They seem more intent on keeping you from making your own decisions than saving their own empire. I find myself longing for the days of the Emperor, although I never thought I would hear myself say such a thing, if you forgive me for saying so, Your Highness. He would have cut off twenty heads the moment he caught wind of such sedition and put an end to it at once. Still, he may have cut off many good heads in the process, so I can’t say those old days were truly all too grand.