The Mage of Trelian (37 page)

“Yes, sir.” And he did. He remembered how good it had felt to wield all that power, how strong he’d been during that final battle. And he was still very strong, of course, even without what he’d borrowed from the other mages. He was a little . . . uneasy about all of that strength. Sometimes. Now that the immediate goal of using it against Krelig was gone, he wanted to be sure he didn’t get carried away. Because he could see how easy that might be. Sometimes.

“Good,” Serek said, seeming to consider the matter decided.

“Do you know Mage Avicia?” Calen asked abruptly. “Do you know if she’ll be at the Magistratum when we go?”

“I believe everyone will be at the Magistratum, at least for the first several days while we try to figure out the new council structure. Why?”

“I — I have a message for her.”

Serek waited, but then seemed to understand that Calen wasn’t going to elaborate, and let it go.

“When do we leave?” Anders asked.

“Tomorrow,” Serek said at once, his usual brusque demeanor reasserting itself. “And despite the rampant self-transportation that has been occurring over the past several days, we will be returning to our more conventional modes of travel from this point on. I believe there will be a blanket pardon considering recent circumstances, but that time is now at an end.” He looked significantly at Calen. “No exceptions.”

Calen nodded. For some reason he was finding it hard not to grin.

Serek noticed. “What?”

Calen stopped fighting it. “I’ve missed your lectures,” he said, smiling broadly.

Anders laughed.

After a moment, Serek laughed, too.

That evening, Calen walked along the path toward Jakl’s paddock. He’d gone looking for Meg, and Pela had told him she was out here. Pela had blushed a deep and startling shade of red again as soon as she saw him. Calen wasn’t entirely certain what to make of that. He thought he might have to find some more excuses to talk to her. Just to see whether it kept happening.

Jakl heard Calen coming long before he arrived, and so he and Meg were both watching for him from the dragon’s field. Jakl was far too large to curl up around Meg the way he had when he was smaller, but he seemed to be trying to do so anyway. Meg was sitting against his foreleg, one hand resting on his dark green snout.

Calen went over and sat beside her.

“Hello, Princess-Guardian,” he said. “Or should I call you Dragon Princess?”

She laughed. “Maybe you should just stick with Meg.”

He smiled at her. “You must be really happy. You looked happy this afternoon.”

“I am,” she agreed. “I thought being princess-heir was really important to me, but . . . I think my priorities are a little clearer to me now.”

“Are they going to give you a sword?”

“Gods, I hope so. I’ve always wanted to learn to fight with a sword.” She seemed to think about this for a minute. “In fact, I know they will. They’re going to teach me everything all the other soldiers learn. I need to be able to fight with them, and not only from Jakl’s back.” The dragon twitched, and she patted him reassuringly. “Even though of course that’s always my favorite place to be. But I think they’ll want to train other soldiers to work with him, too, in case I’m ever . . . incapacitated again in the middle of a battle. Obviously no one else will be able to communicate with him like I can, but at least . . . at least he won’t have to be alone.”

“Well, just — just try to be careful, okay?”

“Of course,” she said, grinning. “You know me!”

He punched her in the arm. But he supposed that was as much of a promise as he was likely to get.

“But do you know what is making me most happy right now?” she went on. “Just being able to sit here, with the two of you, not worrying, not planning, not wondering whether the whole world is about to end.”

“Yes,” Calen agreed. “It makes a very nice change.”

“I used to hate change,” Meg said. “I used to want everything to stay the same. Even though of course that’s impossible. But I think . . . I think I’m actually starting to like it. At least a little.”

“Me, too.” He cleared his throat. “Um, speaking of change . . .”

Her smile faded. “Oh, no. I may have been lying about starting to like it. What? What’s changing now?”

“No, it’s a good change,” he assured her. “I’m . . . they’re making me a full mage.
Junior
mage,” he amended. “First level. But still, no longer an apprentice. I’ll get to study whatever I want.” He paused, then added, “Serek still gets to boss me around, though. But I think I’m strangely glad about that.”

“Oh, Calen, that’s wonderful!” She leaned over and hugged him awkwardly with her free hand. Then she pulled back. “Oh — sorry, your shoulders. Did I hurt you?”

She had, just a little, but he shook his head. It didn’t matter. “I’ll have to go to the Magistratum with Serek for a little while, to make it official and get my new marks, but then I’ll be back. Anders will be my mentor while Serek is still away.”

“I guess it may take them a while to get things back in order over there,” she said. “Well, Anders is kind of fun to have around. Interesting, at least. If . . . odd.”

“He’s been trying to teach George to talk. I suspect that bird is here for good.”

“Why do I immediately envision an inevitable and epic battle between George and Lyrimon?”

Calen laughed. “Well, once Serek leaves, I suspect that Lyrimon is going to permanently move in with your sister. So maybe that will all turn out okay.”

They sat quietly after that, watching the fading colors of the sunset.

“There’s one thing I’m glad isn’t changing,” Meg said suddenly. “I’m glad you’ll still be here. I mean, once you get back. You will, won’t you? Be staying? For . . . for a long time?”

“Yes,” Calen said. “I still have a lot of training to do. I learned so much from Mage Krelig — I hate saying that, but I can’t pretend it’s not true. But only certain kinds of things. And some of it a little too quickly. Serek thinks so, too. I need time to understand it better, time to figure out more about how things work. . . . I think it’s safe to say I’ll be here for quite a while yet.” He leaned back against the dragon’s side. “It’s not like there’s anyplace else I’d rather go, you know.”

“Good,” Meg said emphatically. And then: “You’re still my best friend, Calen.”

“You’re mine too, Meg. Always. No matter what.”

She smiled at him again, and even in the fading light he could see that her eyes were shiny with tears. He thought his might be a little shiny, too, for that matter. It had been quite an adventure since the day they met. Not all of it good. A lot of it pretty terrible, in fact. But this — this made it all worth it. All of it. Meg was his friend, and his family. And Trelian was his home.

T
HIS TIME, THE MARKING ROOM DIDN’T
seem nearly so terrifying. The needle that Master Su’lira was holding up and examining still looked a bit, well . . .
alarming
seemed like a strong word, but it did make him feel just a little uneasy. Calen tried to tell himself how ridiculous that was, considering what he’d been through. Then he just tried to think about something else.

The journey had been long, but uneventful. And arriving at the Magistratum had been . . . strange. Physically it was the same enormous square block of a structure he remembered, but in other ways —
spiritually,
he supposed — he could feel how deeply it had been broken. Mages still traveled in groups in the hallways as Helena had described. They looked at one another with suspicion. Even though the danger was past and Mage Krelig was dead, the mistrust that had grown among them was still there.

The traitor mages were all under lock and constant guard, of course, but Serek pointed out that they would never know what other mages might have been considering joining Krelig and only lacked the nerve or opportunity to do so. Those who had joined Serek shared a bond of trust now, both from having declared their opposition to Krelig and from the experience of surrendering their power to Calen during the battle, but all those others who had remained undeclared . . . it might be a long time before any of them were fully trusted by the rest. Or were fully able to trust themselves.

Many of the mages hailed Serek as some kind of savior of the Magistratum, coming to put the whole system back together again, but Serek told them all, repeatedly, that he was only here
temporarily.

“And under duress!” he added to the last group that approached them on their way to the marking room. Anders had chuckled.

“What?” Serek asked, turning on him irritably.

“Nothing,” Anders said, holding up his hands. “You just have a very large set of notes and plans for someone who is here for such a short time and completely against his will.”

Serek looked down at the satchel of papers he hadn’t set down once since they’d arrived. “Well . . . if I have to be here, I might as well set things as right as possible before I leave,” he said. “Which will be very soon.
Very
soon. As soon as I get certain things in order, and get the new council up and running, and make sure Krelig’s mages are going to be suitably taken care of . . .” He’d trailed off as Anders and Calen exchanged smirks and turned away. “It’s temporary!” Serek called after them as they walked. “Just . . . argh!”

Not all of their encounters had been so amusing, though. Earlier that day they’d run into Mage Brevera and Mage Mettleson, two of the mages who had been ready to take drastic measures to stop what they were sure would be Calen’s betrayal of the Magistratum. Calen was glad Mage Thomil wasn’t with them; he hoped Thomil had finally decided to find himself some better friends to hang around with. There had been a very awkward moment as they all stood there in the hallway, looking at one another.

“Mages,” Serek had said finally. “I trust that you are not going to cause any additional trouble? I have quite enough problems to deal with already. I do not think I will have much patience for any more.”

Mage Brevera had opened his mouth rather angrily, but Mettleson placed a firm-looking hand on his companion’s arm and said mildly, “No trouble, Mage Serek. We’re just pleased that everything worked out so well in the end.” He started forward, not releasing his grip on Brevera’s arm, and the other man was forced to move along with him. At the last second he turned his head to meet Calen’s eyes.

And flinched.

And then turned quickly back around and kept walking.

“Calen,” Anders said gently, “stop that.”

It had taken Calen a second to realize that he’d started forming a spell. The face-melting one. He hadn’t actually cast it, of course, just . . . formed it. Without even knowing he was doing it. Calen swallowed and released the magic energy he’d gathered, letting it dissipate harmlessly into the air around them.

“Sorry,” Calen said after a minute. “I just really hate him.”

“I know,” Serek said. “But you can’t . . .”

“I know,” Calen said. “I didn’t even — I wouldn’t have actually —”

Anders put an arm around his shoulder and started them all walking again. “We’ll work on that. Control is always a good thing to work on. Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally transported Council Master Geffron’s pants while he was giving a speech to the entire Magistratum?”

“Ha!” Serek had said, startling everyone with the still-unfamiliar sound of his laughter. “I remember that. I think he deserved it.”

“Ah. Well, yes. But the point is that I did it accidentally. Pants-removing spells should only ever be cast on purpose.”

“True,” Serek conceded.

“When are you going to teach me that one?” Calen asked.

“The next time Serek has to give a speech,” Anders whispered.

Calen had laughed hard enough to expel the last of the simmering rage that seeing Mage Brevera had inspired in him.

He thought Anders might turn out to be a very good mentor.

“All right,” Master Su’lira said in his soft voice, bringing Calen’s attention back to the present. The needle still looked . . . very sharp. The Marker came forward and sat on the stool beside Calen. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Calen said. And he thought he was. He was ready to move forward. He knew he wouldn’t ever be able to truly put his experiences with Mage Krelig out of his mind, but he thought he could let go of some of the bad feelings, in time. It had been terrible, and he certainly had regrets . . . but he couldn’t regret all of it. He had done what needed to be done to save his friends, and his home. And possibly the world. He wished he had been able to save Helena. She was his deepest regret of all, of course. He knew he would never forget the sound of her screaming as he fled; he suspected it had taken up permanent residence in the part of his brain where his nightmares lived, and he would be hearing it for the rest of his life in his dreams. But he thought she would have been glad to know what her sacrifice had made possible. That thought was what allowed him to mourn her loss without the guilt and sorrow overwhelming him completely. And he made sure that Mage Avicia and everyone else knew what she had done for him, and for them all.

If he could go through all of that, and survive, and still be himself . . . he thought he could be ready for whatever came next.