The Princess of Trelian (13 page)

And Thomil was clearly worried about what Brevera would do if Calen opposed him.

This had gone far enough. It wasn’t right, what they were doing, keeping him isolated this way. He needed to tell Serek what was happening.

Calen stood up and faced the door, ready to cast whatever it took to break through it. He’d start small, though. If he could open the lock quietly and slip out, that would be a lot better than blasting the door down and causing a racket that everyone in the building could hear.

Besides, he’d never blasted a door down before, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do it.

He didn’t know how to open locks, either, but he knew how to get information about an object. Serek had been teaching him about that — using magic to study things and figure out how they worked. Carefully, he reached out a tiny tendril of energy and guided it toward the keyhole.

As soon as his spell touched the lock, a burst of magic came flying back at him and threw him against the floor, knocking the wind out of him. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath. Ow. That had hurt.
Okay,
he thought shakily.
Clearly, they have anticipated this idea as well.
He didn’t quite have the nerve to try again.

Feeling somewhat cowardly, Calen told himself he would find his chance tomorrow. Somehow. He changed his clothes and went to bed.

In the morning, Thomil gave Calen a long look, but didn’t say anything to indicate he knew about the spells Calen had tried the night before. Calen bet he knew, though. He bet they all knew, and now they’d be on their guard against any further attempts to get away. He tried not to let himself get discouraged. He had to get an opportunity sometime. He just had to stay alert and make sure he was ready. Maybe when the serving maids came up with breakfast, or lunch . . .

Gloomily, he followed Thomil back to the testing room and sat down in his uncomfortable little chair. Brevera stood before him but did not start casting anything. He stared at Calen as though trying to see inside his head.

“Who taught you to identify spells?” he asked finally. “Was it Serek? Or someone else?”

“No one taught me,” Calen said. “I told you —”

“Stop lying!” Brevera shouted, his face going red with anger.

Calen stared at him, appalled. “I’m not —”

Brevera spoke over him, his voice dropping in volume but still tense with fury. “You seek to hide the truth from us, but we can see some things without any doubt. The signs clearly show that you will be near the center of the events to come. This . . . ability, this color-sight you have, must be the key. It gives you an advantage that could make you very dangerous. Do you think we cannot see it? Do you think we will just allow you to use this power freely?”

Calen swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t help that I can see things you can’t.”

The mage’s eyes narrowed. “Show me how to do it, then. Prove to me that you aren’t hoarding this ability for your own secret reasons.”

Calen blinked in surprise. “I — I can’t! I didn’t learn how to do it, I just do it. I don’t know how to teach you.”

Brevera lunged forward and grabbed Calen’s shoulders. “Enough! No one can do what you are doing. Someone must have taught you. Someone, perhaps, who knows things the rest of us do not.” He stared into Calen’s eyes again, looking for something he was not, apparently, finding. Then he shook Calen, hard. “How long have you been in contact with Mage Krelig?”

“
What?
Are you
crazy
? I’m not in contact with him!” Calen looked wildly around, hoping Thomil would step forward to calm down Brevera, but Thomil was standing back with Mettleson. He did not meet Calen’s eyes.

“You are a liar and a danger to the Magistratum,” Brevera said. “What were you hoping to gain with that stunt during your ceremony? Were you trying to assassinate the council masters? Or perhaps you were trying to kill me, to stop me from revealing your secrets?”

“Please,” Calen said, trying to speak slowly and carefully. “I swear to you, I didn’t do anything. You’re making a mistake.”

“I don’t believe you,” Brevera said.

Now Thomil spoke. “Brev. I think we should wait.”

“No,” Brevera said, not taking his eyes from Calen. “It’s too dangerous. He has already tried to escape once. Everything we saw is going to come to pass if we don’t stop him.”

“S-stop me from what?” Calen asked. “I told you, I’m not doing anything!”

“There are other ways,” Thomil said. “We should go to the council —”

“No!” Brevera turned and faced his colleague. “They will hesitate; they will debate; they will let Serek come up with some defense. Don’t you see? We must take responsibility. We are the only ones who realize the true danger.”

This was getting very scary.

There was a sudden knock at the door. The mages spun to face the source of the sound. Calen saw that Brevera had half started a spell but then released it. “Breakfast,” Brevera said, shaking his head. “I’ll get rid of them.” He started for the door, then stopped. “Watch him.”

Calen had been getting ready to run, but now Thomil and Mettleson came to stand between him and the door. He knew he would never get past them. But maybe he could still call for help —

The door opened, and Calen took a breath to start shouting, but suddenly Brevera was flying backward into the room. A blaze of purple and orange energy surrounded him. Thomil and Mettleson began to turn but froze before they could move more than a few inches. Bewildered, Calen looked up to see Serek standing in the doorway. Mage Anders peered in from behind him.

“Good morning,” Serek said to Mage Brevera, who was still on the floor — pinned there magically by Serek, Calen could see. The other two were being held still by Anders, who nodded cheerfully to Calen when he noticed him staring. Brevera looked like he was trying to say something in response, but Serek’s spell prevented him.

“I’ve come to retrieve my apprentice,” Serek went on conversationally. “I think you have had him long enough.” He looked at Calen. “Are you all right?”

Calen nodded, still too stunned to speak. He got up and walked toward the door. He rather felt like he was dreaming. Serek and Anders both shifted out of the way to let him pass. Once he was through, he turned around to see what else was going to happen.

Serek and Anders seemed to be wrapping the other mages in bands of magical energy, literally tying them in place and stopping them from moving or speaking or, Calen assumed, casting. Serek went on talking as though nothing unusual was going on.

“I appreciate your efforts on behalf of the Magistratum,” he said to Brevera, who looked nearly insane with rage. “But I’m afraid I have run out of patience, and it’s time my apprentice and I were leaving. I’m not sure what you told Galida and Renaldiere to make them support your actions, but I’ve decided not to comply with their recommendation of cooperation. Good-bye, Brevera.” He nodded at the other mages in turn. “Thomil, Mettleson.”

Then Serek stepped back and closed the door firmly. Anders cast another spell at the door itself — a multicolored affair that Calen was too shaken to try to figure out right at the moment. Serek took Calen’s arm and walked him swiftly down the corridor.

“Where —?” Calen began.

“Not now,” Serek said, his conversational tone abruptly gone. “We’ve got to hurry. Anders has bought us a little time, but it still might not be enough. We’re, ah, leaving against the recommendation of the council. Which is not a matter to be taken lightly, but I’m afraid it was the best choice under the circumstances. I’ll explain later. For now, just try to keep up.”

Calen nodded and tried to obey. He looked back to see Anders hurrying along behind them.

M
EG FOUND TESSEL IN THE KITCHEN
, sitting at one of the long tables with a bowl of stew. The courier looked tired. Meg hesitated in the doorway but then pressed forward. She needed to ask about Lourin. There had to be something more, something to help prove that Jakl wasn’t involved.

“Tessel?”

The young woman looked up, surprised. “Yes, Princess?”

“Can I ask you some more about your message? About what you saw in Lourin?”

“Of course,” Tessel said. She set down her spoon. “What do you want to know?”

Meg sat down across from her. Tessel was a few years older than she was, maybe about Maerlie’s age. Her long, brown hair was tied back in a hasty-looking knot, still messy and windblown from her recent journey.

“I wanted to know . . .” What did she want to know? Meg sighed, feeling defeated before she had even begun. “I know my dragon has not been attacking Lourin,” she said. “I know this, but I can also see why King Gerald would think otherwise. I need to find a way to prove Jakl is innocent.”

Tessel touched the stem of her spoon but didn’t pick it up again. “I’m not sure how I can help, Princess.”

“I’m not sure, either,” Meg said. “I’m sure you told my parents everything you know already. I don’t know what else to ask you. But there must be something. Did you see the scorched ground and fire damage yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And . . . the people who were killed. Is it certain they died from burning?”

“Yes, Princess. I saw them — the bodies — with my own eyes. They were burned, all right. Witnesses said they saw a flash in the darkness, a stream of fire coming from a source they could not see. Everyone agreed it was no natural flame, no cooking fire or house fire gone out of control or anything of the sort.”

“Wait — a source they couldn’t see? So no one is claiming to have actually seen the dragon?”

“No, they do claim to have seen him,” Tessel said. “Or to have seen
a
dragon, at any rate. Just not specifically when they saw the fire. But several people said they saw a dragon fly across the sky.”

Could there be another dragon out there? It wasn’t impossible. Jakl had come from
somewhere,
after all. Maybe he had brothers and sisters. Or parents. Or cousins or something. But even if that were the case, how could she prove it?

“Did any of them get a close look at it? Did they mention how big it was, or what color?”

Tessel shook her head. “No, Princess. I think they saw it only at a distance. Except perhaps, um . . . those who were killed.”

Meg pushed away another thought of Jakl’s struggle to contain his fire that afternoon. She didn’t know what she was trying to accomplish here. She should let Tessel have her meal and rest. She stood up.

“Thank you, Tessel. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

Tessel shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

Meg turned and left the kitchen, not sure exactly where she wanted to go. Jakl floated at the edge of her consciousness, gently pulling at her, but she didn’t think she should go to him. He had to get used to spending some time apart from her. Otherwise he would only get more impatient whenever she couldn’t be there when he wanted her.

She didn’t think it was good for her, either, to go to him whenever she wanted to. It was so easy to get lost in their time together, and she was afraid that it would get harder and harder to come back. Especially when she had such difficult and complicated situations to come back to. She didn’t want to have to worry about Lourin and King Gerald. She didn’t want to have to check in with Wilem every day. She didn’t want to worry about Sen Eva and that portal mage person and every other terrible danger that hovered constantly on the horizon.

Meg heard the whiny edge to her thoughts and felt instantly disgusted with herself.
Too bad,
she thought firmly.
If you’re going to be the princess-heir, it’s your job to worry about these things. Stop being such a baby.
She felt like rapping her knuckles with a stick the way Nan Vera used to whenever any of her charges sufficiently annoyed her. Meg had always deeply resented the knuckle rapping, but she was beginning to understand the impulse. Gods, she was irritating when she whined. Even just inside her own head. And it certainly wasn’t very princess-like.

All right then,
she said to herself.
What can you do? Other than whining and worrying, that is. What can you do?

There was nothing she could do about Wilem at the moment; she’d already talked to him today. She didn’t have to make herself deal with him again until tomorrow. And they didn’t know yet what Sen Eva might be up to, and so taking action wasn’t really possible. That left the situation in Lourin. What could she do about that?

You can find a way to prove Jakl is innocent.

Well, yes, sure, all right. But how? Tessel had already told everything she knew. The only way Meg could find out anything more would be to go to Lourin herself.

She stopped in the hallway, not seeing the walls around her or the servants crossing the corridor where it met the main hall up ahead or anything else.

But . . . she couldn’t, could she? Wouldn’t someone try to stop her?

Not if she didn’t tell them she was going.

Meg grinned in a way that felt decidedly wicked. And wonderful. She knew how
that
worked, after all. It wasn’t like she didn’t have lots of experience sneaking off on her own. Maybe it was different now that she was going to be the princess-heir . . . but if she didn’t make it plain to everyone that Jakl was innocent, she wouldn’t ever get to be the heir. Lourin would want revenge upon the creature they thought was responsible for those attacks. If her parents didn’t turn Jakl over to them, there could be a war. Meg couldn’t let Jakl be punished, of course. But she couldn’t let there be a war over him, either. Jakl would have to be sent away, for his own safety, for the safety of the kingdom. And if that happened, Meg would go with him. She wouldn’t have any choice. They’d be exiles, cut off from her family and her home. Forever.