Tarah Woodblade (27 page)

The steward narrowed his eyes. “You should not be here unaccompanied.”

Arcon lifted his pin so that the steward could see. “It’s okay. I know the way,” he said and continued his walk down the hall, speeding up his steps.

“B-but that’s not . . .” The steward sputtered and turned to rush down another corridor. 

Arcon swallowed. Not good but it would be fine. He was almost there. He made the last few turns to the scholar’s office. They could all rush after him, but if the scholar was okay with it, he’d be fine.

“
What if he’s not in there
?” Mellinda asked suddenly. “
We have no way of knowing if he’s in his office today
.”

Don’t borrow trouble
, he said, pausing outside the door as he realized what a crucial piece of information he was missing. Were boldness and stupidity the same word?

“
Back in my day they were. Especially if you were dealing with me
,” Mellinda said.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he readied a few choice spells. Licking his lips, he opened the door and entered the room.

The red-sash stewards were well-trained. Two swords were unsheathed and arcing towards his neck before his foot touched the marble floor. He released a spell and a dome of air rushed into existence around him, stopping the blades inches from his neck. His eyes swept the room.

Scholar Aloysius wasn’t behind his desk, but was lounging in an ornate chair at the side of the room. He held an open book in his left hand, but his eyes were focused on Arcon’s entrance. His right hand darted forward, throwing the knife he had been rolling along the tops of his fingers just moments before. Arcon’s spell halted the point of the blade two inches from his right eye.

“
That’s a new one
,” Mellinda said. “
A scholar that throws knives
.”

Arcon dove to the floor, prostrating himself before the gnome, his forehead pressed to the rug at the scholar’s feet. “Great Scholar Aloysius! I apologize for the suddenness of my visit. I, your humble servant, wished to see you regarding a matter of utmost importance!”

Arcon dropped the air spell, releasing the steward’s swords, and the scholar’s knife fell to the floor. The stewards took a quick step forward and their blades pressed into his back.

“What shall we do, Scholar?” asked one of them.

The scholar barked out a sharp laugh and stood. “I must say I’m quite surprised! Humble servant indeed.”

“
He laughs
,” Mellinda said in relief. “
If you had tried a trick like this in my palace, I would have sucked the magic from your body, slit your throat, and given the rings to a servant I already trusted
.”

“I wished no offense,” Arcon said.

“Accosting a scholar is a crime punishable by death,” said the other red-sash. He brought his blade up to the back of the mage’s neck and jabbed him with the tip, causing Arcon to wince.

“That it is,” said the scholar. “So tell me, Mage Arcon, what is it that’s so important that you risked your life and . . . mainly your life, to barge in to see me?”

“My current position is inhibiting my ability to be an effective servant, Master,” Arcon replied.

“Are you referring to your position on the floor?” Aloysius asked.

“
Speak properly and do not show any defiance
,” Mellinda said. “
He’s thinking about killing us
.”

“I am speaking of the pin I wear on my collar,” Arcon said.

“I have heard of your request,” said the scholar. “You wish access to the libraries.”

“It’s not just that, sir,” Arcon said, hesitating. The words he wanted to say might get him killed. But then again, he had decided to be bold. “I wish to be a red-sash.”

“
Too far
!” Mellinda gasped as the blades pushed in deeper, piercing his skin.

“Stand back, Stewards!” Aloysius commanded and the sword tip was removed from Arcon’s neck. “I’ll have you know that these two vigilant young men were ready to slay you for speaking such a ridiculous request. I’m thinking of letting them.”

He could feel the warmth of his blood sliding down the side of his neck. “Master, having any other position would hamper my efforts on your behalf.”

“Call him ‘Scholar’, you fool,” snarled one of the red-sashes.

“Don’t overstep your bounds, Steward Madison!” Aloysius warned. He turned his attention to Arcon. “I am curious. Exactly what efforts are you trying to make on my behalf? I have given you no orders.”

“I do listen, though, Scholar,” Arcon replied. “I heard that you are looking for rogue horses.”

The gnome shifted his feet.

“
I really wish we could see more than his slippers
,” Mellinda complained. “
It’s much more difficult to read him if I’m just going by sound
.”

“I can’t say that I like such information being out and about for you to hear,” Aloysius said.

“It’s the reason I came to you in the first place, Scholar.” Blood dripped from his neck and hit the floor with an audible patter. “There is no reason for you to continue to search for rogue horses. I can use the Rings of Stardeon to create new ones for you.”

“You? A mere mage?” the gnome scoffed. “You may have the correct tool, but why would you succeed where powerful wizards have been failing for over a thousand years.”

“I have with me an expert on the matter,” Arcon explained.

“With you?”

“Yes, Master. In my mind are the thoughts and memories of Mellinda, the wife of Stardeon,” Arcon said.

“
There is no way he’s believing that
,” she said and Arcon had the impression that if she could, she’d be resting her face in her hands right then.

The room was silent.

“If I might explain, Scholar,” Arcon said. “Ewzad Vriil was never my true master. I was serving at his side at the direction of Mellinda, though to the rest of the world she was known as the mother of the moonrats.”

“So the moonrat witch was actually the Troll Queen. Still alive after all those years,” Aloysius mused. “I had wondered if that might be the case.”

“Yes, Master. She compelled me into Vriil’s service with the use of a powerful eye that she placed into my body,” Arcon said. One of the red-sashes groaned in disgust. “When the Mage School’s army destroyed her, her essence was trapped in my body.”

“Look up at me, mage,” the gnome said. Arcon shifted back on his knees and sat up so that he could look into the tall scholar’s face. He looked perturbed. “I’m trying to tell if there is any sanity in those eyes. Everything you have done and said so far today is quite insane.”

“
No kidding
.”

“I assure you, Master. It is all true,” Arcon said earnestly.

The scholar bent down and grasped Arcon’s jaw, giving him a long and searching look. Finally, he let go and took a step back. “Even if you do believe this to be true, how does this help me?”

“Because Mellinda was there when Stardeon first began creating the rogue horses,” Arcon said. “She worked with him hand-in hand.”

“I know more about that era than you might think” Aloysius said. “My own father’s writings spoke of it. Mellinda was only around during Stardeon’s failed attempts at creating a rogue horse. She left him to join the Dark Prophet months before he had his first success!”

“
That’s not exactly how it happened
,” Mellinda grumbled.

“You are correct, Master,” Arcon said. “But Stardeon was near his breakthrough when she left. She is certain that if allowed access to the great libraries here at the homeland she and I could discover that missing bit of information and create a new series of rogues horses in your name.”

Aloysius raised a hand and thoughtfully stroked his long and pointed nose. “First of all, I must be sure that the thoughts of the Troll Queen are indeed in your head.”

“Ask me anything she would know, Master,” Arcon said confidently.

“Everything I know was learned through research,” said the scholar. “And you were taught at the Mage School, which means that you had access to one of the greatest libraries in the known lands. You would have had access to many of the same books and scrolls . . .” He stopped, smiling. “There is one thing that I can show you that she could know, but you could not.”

He thrust his right hand at Arcon, palm out. “She would recognize this!”

Arcon blinked. He couldn’t see anything of interest, though he noticed that the ring on the scholar’s middle finger had been turned inward, a small opal shining in the center of it.

“
Switch to spirit sight
!” she said urgently.

I don’t know how
, he said.

“Tell me, Mage Arcon,” said the scholar impatiently. “What does she see?”

“
Let me do it
!” she said. “
Give me just that much control
.”

Arcon was struck with fear. Could he do that? Could he dare give her even that tiny amount? What if she tried to take him over?

The gnome started to lower his hand.

“
We don’t have time
!”

Fine
. He let down his defenses just enough for her to access his mage sight. His vision flared and he saw the elemental realm. Several spots in the scholar’s robe shone with various colors of magic, including something long and slender at his left hip. Then it felt as if something thin and gauzy were pulled over his vision and the magesight vanished, replaced by something different, something dark.

“I see you’re wasting my time,” the gnome began.

“Nothing, Scholar!” Arcon blurted, relieved that he was still in charge of his body. “She sees nothing on your hand. Mellinda says that this means you have not stood before the Dark Bowl.”

Aloysius raised an eyebrow. “Truly? How interesting. I was looking for her to remark on the ring I was wearing, but this is perhaps a better proof. That is the sort of thing the Troll Queen would look for on the palm of my right hand.”

“
The ring?
” she said. “
What on earth should I have noticed about that ring? Ask him to show it again
.”

“Tell me something, Mage Arcon,” said the scholar. “Does Mellinda still hear the dark voice of her master?”

“Not any more,” Arcon said without hesitation. “Not since her body was destroyed in the forest. Her connection with the Dark Prophet was severed and all of her power taken away. She lives only as thoughts and memories now.”

“
Don’t say everything you know, idiot
!”

“Pity,” Aloysius said. “Her level of power would have been quite useful for me.”

“Please, Master,” Arcon said, leaning forward and placing his forehead to the ground again. “I promise you that the power of the Rings of Stardeon mixed with the memories of the Troll Queen can bring you all the power you need.”

Arcon didn’t raise his head but he heard the scholar’s feet shuffle. “I’m not so certain I like having a servant so low.”

“Would you like me to stand, Master?”

“No,” he said. “I enjoy seeing you as you are. I just don’t know how far I can trust someone that acts so subservient.”

“I assure you, Scholar,” Arcon said. “I may abase myself before you, but I would not do so to any other man. I most definitely didn’t do so for Ewzad Vriil. I merely give respect where respect is due.”

“
Ooh, well spoken
,” Mellinda said approvingly.

The gnome let out a low laugh. “I must say you excel at telling me things I want to hear. I would have you change your posture, though. I think I would prefer you at a state of readiness. Get up on one knee,” Aloysius said and Arcon did so, looking up at the scholar long enough to see the pleased look in his eyes. “Good, now press your knuckles to the floor. Hmm. Now bow your head . . . what do you think, Steward Evan?”

“It is a respectful kneel, Scholar,” the red-sash replied.

“
That’s the kneel of a knight to a king in my day
,” Mellinda said approvingly. “
We’ve taken a step up
.”

The stewards don’t bow or kneel. They obey him and give him respect, but he treats them as people
. Arcon griped.

“
One step at a time
,” she said.

“I agree with Steward Evan,” The gnome said musingly. “Mage Arcon, this posture will be sufficient in the future.”

“Of course, Master,” Arcon said.

“In addition, it is best that you call me by my proper title. Especially if we are in a public setting.”

“Yes, Scholar Aloysius,” he said.

From his kneeling position Arcon watched the gnome’s feet as he walked over to sit in his chair. “Now as for this thing you ask of me, it is quite ludicrous. Stewards aren’t just made. They undergo years of training and you are far older than most beginners. Is that not right, Steward Madison?”

“Indeed, Scholar. I started when I was five, as did my father before me,” the steward said.

“True. As did his father. Three generations of men serving me, Mage Arcon. This is why Steward Evan wears the red sash. Only the most devoted and trustworthy are chosen.”

“Of course, Scholar. I did not mean to be presumptuous. I just believe that becoming a red sash is the only way I can have the keys I need to serve you to the best of my ability,” Arcon said. “What can I do to prove my loyalty?”

“
Now you’re being presumptuous
,” Mellinda said.

“Enough,” the scholar said with an offended tone. “You intrigue me, but you overreach yourself. Red sash indeed. This will I do. I will see to it that you are given the sash of a steward in training. This will open certain doors to you and I expect you will find the position useful.”

“A student?” This was ridiculous.

“
Just do it
!” Mellinda said.

“I-. But- . . . Yes, Scholar. Thank you.”

“I will have you put under the tutelage of Steward Molly. I believe the two of you are . . . familiar with each other?”

“Yes, Scholar Aloysius,” Arcon said.

“
What does he do? Peep? Or is she a talker
?” Mellinda mused.