Khadgar realized that the older man was studying his face as he spoke, and with a start he realized that this fit into the rumors he heard before leaving the Violet Citadel. Ancient mages, suddenly gone, and the upper echelons quietly hushing it up. The great secret among the Kirin Tor, part of a greater problem.
Despite himself, Khadgar looked away, out over the city. “Yes, Dalaran too, it seems,” said Lothar. “Not much news comes from there, but I’m willing to bet that the news is similar, eh?”
“You think that the Lord Magus is in danger?” asked Khadgar. The desire to not tell Lothar anything was eroding by the obvious concern of the older warrior.
“I think Medivh is danger incarnate,” said Lothar. “And I admire anyone willing to be under the same roof with him.” It sounded like a joke, but the King’s Champion did not smile. “But yes, something is out there, and it may be tied with the demons or the orcs or something much worse. And I would hate to lose our most powerful weapon at a time like this.”
Khadgar looked at Lothar, trying to read the furrows of the older man’s face. Was this old warrior worried about his friend, or worried about the loss of a magical protection? Was his concern about Medivh’s safety, out in the middle of the wilderness, or that something was stalking them all? The older man’s face seemed like a mask, and his deep sea-blue eyes gave no clue as to what Lothar was truly thinking.
Khadgar had expected a simple swordsman, a knight devoted to duty, but the King’s Champion was more than this. He was pushing Khadgar, looking for weakness, looking for information, but to what end?
I need someone to guard the Guardian,Medivh had said.
“He is fine,” said Khadgar. “You are worried about him, and I share your concerns. But he is doing well, and I doubt anything or anyone can truly hurt him.”
Lothar’s unfathomable eyes seemed to deflate for a moment, but only a flickering moment. He was going to say something else, to renew the prying, friendly inquisition, but a commotion within the tower drew both their attention away from the discussion, away from the now-empty mugs and the bare bones of the fowl.
Medivh swaggered into view, followed by a crew of servants and guardsmen. All complained about his presence, but none would (wisely) place a hand on him, and as a result followed him like a living, mewling comet’s tale. The older mage strode out onto the parapet.
“I thought you a creature of habit, Lothar,” said Medivh. “I knew you’d be out here taking afternoon tea!” The Magus beamed a warm smile, but Khadgar saw there was a slight, almost drunken sway to his walk. Medivh kept one arm behind him, concealing something.
Lothar rose, concern in his voice. “Medivh are you all right? The demon…”
“Ah, yes, the demon,” said Medivh brightly and pulled his bloodied prize out from behind his back. He lobbed it at Lothar and Khadgar in a lazy, underhanded swing.
The red orb spun as it flew, spilling the last bits of blood and brains out before landing at Lothar’s feet. It was a demon’s skull, the flesh still adhered to it, with a mighty divot, like that of a great ax, driven into the center, right between the ramlike horns. The demon’s expression, Khadgar thought, was one of both awe and indignation.
“You might want to have that stuffed,” said Medivh, pulling himself seriously to his full height. “Had to burn the rest of it, of course. No telling what the inexperienced might do with a draught of demon’s blood.”
Khadgar saw that Medivh’s face was more pinched than it had been earlier, and that the lines around his eyes were more prominent. Lothar may have caught it as well, and remarked, “You caught it quite quickly.”
“Child’s play!” said Medivh. “Once Young Trust here pointed out how the demon fled the castle, it was a simple matter to track it from the tower’s base to a small escarpment. It was over before I knew it. Before it knew it either.” The Magus swayed slightly.
“Come then,” said Lothar, with a warm smile. “We should tell the King. There should be reveling in your honor for this, Med!”
Medivh held up a hand. “You may revel without us, I am afraid. We should get back. Miles to go before we rest. Isn’t that right, Apprentice?”
Lothar looked at Khadgar, again with a questioning, imploring look. Medivh looked calm but worn. He also looked expectant for Khadgar to support him this time.
The young mage coughed, “Of course. We left an experiment on the boil.”
“Indeed!” said Medivh, picking up the lie immediately. “In our rush to get here, I had quite forgotten. We should make haste.” The Magus wheeled and bellowed at the collected courtiers. “Make ready our mounts! We leave at once.” The servants dissolved like a covey of quail. Medivh turned back to Lothar. “You will make our apologies to His Majesty, of course.”
Lothar looked at Medivh, then at Khadgar, then at Medivh again. At last he sighed and said, “Of course. Let me lead you to the tower, at least.”
“Lead on,” said Medivh. “Don’t forget to take your skull. I’d keep it myself, but I have one like it already.”
Lothar hefted the ram-headed skull in one hand and brushed past Medivh, leading into the tower itself. As he passed, the Magus seemed to deflate, the air going out of him. He looked more tired than before, grayer than he had been moments earlier. He let out a heavy sigh and headed for the door himself.
Khadgar chased after him and caught him by the elbow. It was light touch, but the elder mage suddenly pulled himself upright, flinching as if reacting to a blow. He turned to Khadgar, and his eyes seemed to mist over for a moment as he looked at the younger mage.
“Magus,” said Khadgar.
“What is it now?” said Medivh in a hissing whisper.
Khadgar thought about what to say, how to risk the Magus’s censure. “You’re not well,” he said, simply.
It was the right thing to say. Medivh gave an aged nod, and said, “I’ve been better. Lothar probably knows as well, but he won’t challenge me on it. But I’d rather be home than here.” He paused for a moment, and his lips formed a stiff line beneath his beard. “I was sick for a long time, here. Don’t want to repeat the experience.”
Khadgar didn’t say anything, but only nodded. Lothar now stood at the door, waiting.
“You’re going to have to lead the way back to Karazhan,” said Medivh to Khadgar, loud enough for all nearby to hear. “This city life takes too much out of a man, and I could use a nap about now!”
9
The Slumber of the Magus
“This is very important,” said Medivh, staggering slightly as he slid from the back of the gryphon. He looked haggard, and Khadgar assumed the battle with the demon had been worse than even he let on.
“I will be…unavailable for a few days,” continued the older Mage. “If any messengers arrive during this time, I want you to keep track of my correspondence.”
“I can do that,” said Khadgar, “easily.”
“No you can’t,” said Medivh, starting roughly down the stairs. “That is why I need to tell you how to read the ones with the purple seal. The purple seal is always Order business.”
Khadgar said nothing this time, but just nodded.
Medivh slid on the edge of the stairs and stumbled, pitching forward headlong. Khadgar lunged to grab the older man, but the Magus had already caught himself against the wall and pulled himself upright. He didn’t miss a beat, “In the library, there is a scroll. ‘The Song of Aegwynn.’ Tells of my mother’s battle with Sargeras.”
“The scroll that Guzbah wanted a copy of,” said Khadgar, now watching the mage carefully as he lurched down the stairs ahead of him.
“The very one,” said Medivh. “This is why he can’t have it—we use it as cipher for Order communications. It is the master key. An identical scroll is with each of the members of the Order. If you take the standard alphabet, and move everything down, so the first letter is represented by the fourth, or the tenth, or the twentieth. It is a simple code. You understand?”