Benzamin nodded. "But no sign of her?"
"None. No clothing, no stray strands of hair, no jewelry. She wore a locket of silver, I remember that."
The kioko magus nodded. "What do you think happened?"
Maakus furrowed his brow. "One of three things: she panicked, and allowed him to go on to the land of the dead...."
"And went along with him. Then there should have been a body left."
Maakus shrugged and nodded. "Or she miscast, and destroyed them both. Or... brought him back... and he destroyed her."
"You think he was evil?" Benzamin asked curiously.
The bard sighed. "I read her journal, sir. You do know how she fared... in the war...."
Benzamin nodded. The war on the west border of Sellgard had been raging for nearly two years, and Aloren had been on the front lines for almost as long as it had been running. Her journal had extended back to that time, and Maakus had not been blind to the slow eroding of her personality that had occurred over the course of the months she had spent fighting the ni'ochi magi who were the anathema of the kioko. Indeed, if one were to compare the entries at the beginning of the journal—when she was just entering the war—to the ones toward the end—after her honorable discharge and restation at the village—one would hardly be able to recognize them as having been written by the same person except by the handwriting.
"What about it?" Benzamin asked.
"He... played on this. I don't know if she realized it, but... many times, in my job, you will never get the truth. So you must learn to read between the lines, and come to conclusions of your own.... My conclusion is that he played on her loneliness. At one point, she said she thought she was in love with him...."
The High Lord looked upset at this. "In love enough to go on with him into death, I imagine."
"If that was what he wanted. Which he didn't. He was quite adamant about that."
Benzamin nodded. "I see," he said.
The bard shrugged. "That's all I know, or have concluded. You?"
The magus shook his head, but said nothing. After the silence had continued longer than Maakus cared for, the bard reached into his satchel again and set a scroll on the High Lord's desk.
Benzamin raised a brow. "What is this?"
"A song I wrote. A song as yet uncompleted."
The High Lord nodded, and unrolled the scroll, his eyes scanning rapidly over the words. After a moment he looked up. "Interesting ending," he commented.
"Quite the opposite. It has no ending, sir."
"Is that why you came?"
The bard nodded. "It's maddening to have questions with no answers."
"And what makes you think I have any answers?"
"You were her teacher. You are magus. You would know if she yet lives."
Benzamin smiled bleakly. "I might."
The madrigal wet his lips, reaching within himself for the next puzzle. "By Aloren's own hand," he began slowly, "kioko magic is not a definite thing. Even spells... are not definite."
Benzamin nodded.
"She also says that the magic... is alive. She called it the Light. She often referred to it as though it were a living thing."
Benzamin chuckled. "It can be."
"Ni'ochi magic is different, it requires spells, and it was probably a ni'ochi magus that wrote the grimoire."
Benzamin nodded. "Correct."
"Could it be possible... for a kioko magus to go corrupt and turn to the Dark magic rather than the Light?'
The High Lord flushed slightly. "If you are implying that she—"
"No." The madrigal's voice was firm. "I am implying that he was winding down that road."
Benzamin nodded. "That would make sense. But you must understand that the light is rather vicious. It visits retribution on those who have spurned it."
Maakus smiled. "What better retribution than spending time as an earthbound soul?"
Benzamin blinked, and Maakus saw his glance dart toward the door from which the child had come. "Of course...." Benzamin said softly. "So that—" he stopped suddenly, looking at the bard again.
Something flashed in Maakus' mind, something he had noticed without noticing, something at the edge of his memory....
Maakus shook his head. Whatever it was, it would come in its own time.
"All right," the bard said. "I've told you my part... now it's time for yours."
Benzamin chuckled. "Bards are such flatterers. Aye, there is something I know: the piece you do not."
"You know what happened to her?" Maakus breathed, sitting up.
Benzamin nodded. "And I shall show you."
The wind rattled against the windows, striking like a snake. I closed my eyes, calmed myself within, then opened them to stare at the circles I had drawn.
I reached within me to the well from which I drew the Light, and called it. It curled like woodsmoke from my hand and flowed into the outermost circle.
"Jesamen," I breathed, and a shadowy figure appeared in the circle, staring at me with ethereal green eyes.
"Aloren...." he said softly, voice louder than it had ever been, but still a shade's voice. It had strengthened as Lammas Night grew closer. My body trembled at the sound of that voice. I wondered what his touch would feel like....
The book lay open before me, pages worn nearly brown by time. I stared at them, wishing that I had had more time to look through it.
Two spells, both so similar.... Which strokes of the pen do you choose, magus?
"Midnight draws close!" the shade said. "You must bring me back, Aloren!"
The wind whistled, flailed against the window, and then suddenly broke through the constraining latches. The gale howled through the room, extinguishing the candles and scattering loose scrolls. It snatched at the book, spun the pages. I grabbed desperately at them, reaching to retrieve my place—
A bookmark. A page. I blinked and stared at the page, wondering why it was I had not turned to it before. A bookmark. A spell. I should have opened to it by the mark automatically. Unless my actions had been controlled—
A bookmark. An enchantment. A formula for...
"Immortality," I said aloud and looked up at him. "Immortality, on Lammas Night."
"Aloren—"
"You sonuvabitch."
It all crashed over me, hurting worse than anything I'd ever felt in any of the battles at the war. I just stared at him in silence.
"You bastard," I said, my heart hurting. "You—you tried to cast this, didn't you?"
"Aloren, you must understand—"
"And it backfired! And you were stuck here! Until I came along." The rage burned in my belly, the Light reacting to it. A light blue glow began to flower about me.
"Were you going to possess me?" I snarled, standing. A flash of Light crackled out of my hand and hit the book. I heard Jesamen scream, staring in horror at the ashes that had been his salvation. "Were you going to weaken me, and then try to overcome me? Or did you just want a partner?" I swallowed, and my voice fell into a dangerous whisper. Now the rage was controlled. I realized, belatedly, that I had destroyed my salvation as well, but I did not care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.