The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (73 page)

She waited until he was seated and had taken another sip of his wine. “You wouldn’t hurt the child, would you? Not one of your own blood.”

Borman laughed, a low menacing sound. “Now, now, Tarraquin, don’t try that with me you know it’s not mine.”

“She could be, the timing is right.”

“The timing may be right but despite my best efforts I have yet to father a child, bastard or legitimate. What’s more I know it’s not Vorgret’s get from what Sadrin has told me, so whose is it then?”

“King Newn’s.”

“Before or after he had fangs, tusks and was covered in hair?”

Tarraquin glared at him. “Bastard.”

“Surprisingly I am not, unlike this one. Still, it has some royal blood in it so it is worth something, for now at least, but if you want the child to remain safe, then you will do as you are told and will give me what I want.”

With a sigh of resignation Tarraquin began to unbutton the front of her dress. “You would do this in front of my daughter?”

“Good Goddess woman, stop that! I am not a monster you know. When I want to take my pleasure with you, I will tell you and you can leave the child with someone. Perhaps Sadrin would care for her, their mental age and conversation is not that much different? For now I want you to play a little game with me, a charade to entertain an acquaintance of yours who has caused me some inconvenience. I would find it amusing to see him discomforted by having you at my side of your own free will and even, perhaps, showing me some signs of affection.”

“Who is it?”

“Does it matter?” Tarraquin nodded. “Oh, very well, it’s Malingar.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

Of course he was. “No, I just want him to know that he’s lost his position at my side, his estates and everything else for no good reason, and disloyalty to me never pays. It will only be a brief meeting and if it goes well, there will be no more fighting and many lives will be saved.”

If she had any other option she would have refused, but there was none and Borman knew it. “Very well, I will play your game.”

“Good, that’s settled. Now put that thing down and let us dine together. I could do with some intelligent conversation after being with Sadrin for two days.

*

“Tell me about the Pillars of the Allkinds.”

Both Allowyn and Dozo looked up and considered Jonderill’s request, but neither of them answered immediately. They both needed time to gather their thoughts and put the events of the last few days out of their mind. After the euphoria of beating Borman’s army into retreat, and the reunion of old friends, there had been the cost to count, the dead to bury and the wounded to be made as comfortable as their injuries allowed.

Dozo had worked through two nights, his healing skills in constant demand, so he was now so tired that he could barely sit upright to eat the first hot food they had eaten since the battle. He didn’t mind, it helped to numb the pain of losing a third of his force, including his adopted son, in a battle that had lasted less than two candle lengths. Stanner had taken Trad’s death badly and there had been little time to comfort her, but she was sleeping now and soon he would go and join her.

Allowyn had been busy too, using Barrin and Malingar as his captains to sort through the battlefield for anything which could be salvaged, arrange burial parties and dealing with the hundred or so prisoners they had taken. After that there had been the problem of getting the entire army, including the wounded, on the move. The fact that they had arrived in the steep-sided valley, which led to the Enclave, only a day behind Borman was entirely down to his organisation, command and cajoling.

He was exhausted too, but there would be time for sleep after the coming battle was over. For now, his mind was full of strategies of how he could best deploy his tired, half trained men so that they would stand against an army three times their size with a flame-throwing magician, and still have some men left alive at the end of it. If Jonderill would use his magic to reduce the enemy’s numbers, then they might stand a chance, but he was certain that he wouldn’t. He wasn’t even sure if Jonderill would stand with them.

He shook his head trying to push that worrying thought from his mind and concentrated on Jonderill’s question. What did he know about the Pillars of the Allkinds? Despite having lived at the Enclave throughout his boyhood and into being a man, he knew remarkably little about them. As far as he could remember, the pillars had never been mentioned whilst he was training to be a protector, nor were they worshipped or revered or even studied at the House of Learning and formed no part of any temple rituals, which was odd really.

For something that big you would have thought they would have played a major part in the history and culture of the city. It was almost as if people ignored them, or didn’t see them, which was impossible as they were huge, and you had to pass them every time you went into or out of the Enclave. On the other hand, Jonderill had passed them several times and he hadn’t remembered them either. He looked across at Dozo, who was also clearly having trouble gathering together what he knew about the colonnade of paired monoliths.

“The Pillars of the Allkinds have been there since the temple was first built, before the Enclave grew up around the temple and the city came into being. They are the work of the Goddess and they are there to protect the Enclave.”

Dozo frowned and shook his head. “No, that’s not quite right. They were built by the first people to come to the six kingdoms to honour the Goddess, and they are there to protect the Goddess and the temple, not the Enclave. If you look straight down the centre of the colonnade you can see they are slightly out of alignment with the city gate but are in a straight line with the temple’s dome.” Dozo frowned as if he had forgotten something important but couldn’t think what it was.

“What about the carvings, do they have any meaning?”

“It is said,” began Dozo hesitantly, “that the Goddess blessed those who worshipped her and built her temple, by engraving their images on the pillars so they would never be forgotten by those who came after them.”

Jarrul gave a derisive snort and then felt acutely embarrassed as everyone turned to look at him. “Well, have you seen what’s on the first pair of pillars? Monsters, perverted creatures and demons fit enough for hellden’s halls. I hardly think they had anything to do with worshipping the Goddess or building her temple.”

Allowyn nodded, there was sense in what the man said. “I have heard that the images of past magicians and their protectors are engraved on the pillars, so that they will live in the people’s memories forever, but I don’t think that can be true. I studied one of the pillars once, after my brother died, to see if Coberin and he were there, but of course they weren’t.” He gave an involuntary shudder as if someone had walked over his grave. “Callabris hated the place and would never look directly at the pillars. I asked him about them once but he refused to talk about them.”

“Didn’t the grey robes teach you anything about them when you were at the Enclave?” asked Malingar curiously. “They must surely be magical so I thought they would be part of a magician’s training.”

Jonderill shook his head. “I wasn’t there long enough to learn anything of use.” He suddenly looked up and stared into the darkness beyond the fire. “Barrin comes and he has a stranger with him.”

The others stood and Malingar drew his sword. In the distance they could hear sentries calling and as they waited they could see approaching torchlight. They relaxed slightly when Barrin marched into the area around the fire clutching a white cloth in one hand and the arm of a bound and blindfolded soldier in the other.

“This man says he brings a message from Borman.” He pushed the man roughly to his knees.

Despite the blindfold Malingar recognised him and kept his sword at the ready. “Watch him carefully, he is one of Borman’s Troop Captains.” The man raised his head at the sound of the familiar voice and felt the press of steel at his throat.

Allowyn crossed to where the man knelt and eased Malingar’s sword away from the prisoner’s throat. “If you have a message from the King, you may give it to us now.”

“The King’s message is for the leader of the rebels and the magician. I must be able to see them to make sure the message is delivered into the right hands, before I repeat the words my lord has told me.”

Malingar prodded him again with the tip of his sword making the soldier jump and a small trickle of blood run from his shoulder. Allowyn glared at him showing his displeasure at the unnecessary jab. “You are speaking to the leaders and if you don’t want my friend here to use his sword on other, more sensitive parts of your body you will deliver the message to us now.”

The soldier hesitated for a moment. He’d been offered a reward if he could find out who the enemy leaders and the magician were, but the reward wasn’t big enough for him to lose his life for. “His Majesty has asked for a meeting, just him with two others and your leaders all unarmed. Each side may have a hundred men at a distance of five hundred paces. He guarantees your safety and says you should come if you want to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

Allowyn looked at Malingar and Barrin who both shook their heads. “When and where will this meeting take place?”

“The King will meet with you at the Pillars of the Allkinds at one candle length past dawn.”

“You can tell your master that we will be there.” put in Jonderill. The others looked at him in surprise but nobody contradicted him.

*

Sadrin held out his hands and released his power into the logs which were stacked in the large hearth in his room. For a moment nothing happened and then a few sparks ignited amongst the kindling making the ends of the nearest sticks glow a dull red. He tried again, concentrating his mind on the thought of flames and fire. A few more sparks spluttered into life and a thin spiral of smoke rose up from the centre of the heaped logs.

Borman was wrong. His problem wasn’t controlling the power which flowed from him, it was finding enough of it to even light a blasted fire. The last time he’d tried to use his power to light the fire in his room, which was before the battle, the logs had turned to white ash in a heartbeat. Now he could barely muster a few sparks, and it was taking at least a candle length before the fire was hot enough even to warm his hands. He gave a deep sigh, slumped into the chair by the hearth and stared into the pitiful excuse for a fire. His head hurt and he felt miserable.

It was just like being with Vorgret all over again, being treated like a servant, made to run and fetch things, and then being dismissed like a naughty child. He wasn’t a child, he was High Master of the Enclave and they should show him some respect. No, not just respect, they should bow down to him, just like they did in his imagination. If he’d had the energy he would have kicked something in anger, but it was all just too much effort. Vorgret had never respected him and look what had happened to Vorgret, so Borman had better watch out or he would end up the same way, and then he would be sorry.

Except, of course, Borman wouldn’t have to watch out because there was nothing he could do to him. The truth of the matter was that his power had dwindled away to nothing, not even enough to light the fire in his hearth. He’d lost his power before when he’d been beaten, abused and starved by the grey robes, and again when he’d been chained to a wall and his pick at the bottom of the deepest silver mine. It had come back then stronger than ever so he shouldn’t be concerned should he? It was just a matter of time.

He was concerned though as this felt somewhat different than it had last time. His power hadn’t actually gone away as it had before, rather it felt wrong, watered down and contaminated. It suddenly occurred to him that the other magician must have done this to him. That he must have put something nasty in his magic to turn it sickly when he’d pushed it back at him. It was all his fault, and when he had his power back, he would show the bastard who had the most powerful magic, and would turn him to ash.

When he had his magic back. What would happen to him if his magic never came back and he was left with just a few sparks? He would be all right, after all, he was the High Master, ordained by the Goddess and no one would dare touch him. That wasn’t quite true though, he wasn’t really the High Master. The Goddess had never spoken to him as she had other High Masters and Tressing knew it, and if Tressing knew then everyone would know. Tressing would tell Borman, not openly but with a whispered rumour, and Borman would want a demonstration of his powers.

It didn’t take much imagination to guess what would happen to him if he couldn’t produce his flames. Borman would be angry and would denounce him and then he would want his revenge but he wouldn’t kill him, he wasn’t like that. No, he would want to humiliate him in every way he could. Perhaps he would even want to do to him what he’d done to the acolyte he’d sent him that morning. Sadrin shuddered in revulsion. He couldn’t bear that, to have someone touch him in that way and do unspeakable things to him. If it came to that he would rather be dead.

Sadrin gave an involuntary sob and squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. It was like being a boy all over again at the mercy of the Master of Penance, only this time he wouldn’t be given the chance to find another way to remove his tormenter. He would be kept in chains and abused by Borman until he was tired of him and then what? Vorgret had talked about prisoners being passed around the men until they were of no more use, and then had their throats cut. Would that happen to him?

Another sob escaped him and he wiped his tears onto the back of his hand. He had to escape before Borman sent for him, but the doors would be guarded by Borman’s soldiers or those huge guards who wore leather and fur. He was already trapped! Shaking with fear he leaped to his feet and frantically looked around the room, searching for another way out. It was hopeless and he knew it, there were no windows and he’d searched every hand span of the walls for another door but there was only the one. “Sweet Goddess help me. I don’t want to die!”