“Tell me about the last ae’Magi,” he said, kneeling to pet Wolf.
Before she answered, she glanced casually around the stables, but there were no grooms around near enough to overhear. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re right. I’ve never heard anyone say a word against him. That’s just not natural.” With a last pat, he stood up. “I met him several times at court, and I liked him very much. I never talked to him—but I had this feeling he was a wonderful person even though I didn’t know him at all. It didn’t even strike me as odd until I thought about it today. And Hart ...”
“Yes?” asked Aralorn with a smile.
“He despises courtiers of any type—except those of us related to him by blood. He only tolerates Myr because the king is a wonderful swordsman. There is this as welclass="underline" Falhart makes an exception for you and his wife, but he really doesn’t like magic. He prefers things he can face with his broadsword or quarterstaff. That attitude tends to carry over to sorcerers. Oh, he’s not as bad as say, Nevyn, about it—but, I’ve never heard him approve of any of them. Yet he considers the last ae’Magi a paragon among men? Hart has never mentioned anything in particular that Geoffrey did to inspire the kind of enthusiasm he showed today.”
“Geoffrey,” said Aralorn quietly, “was a Darranian. Did you know that?”
“No,” said Correy, with the same disbelief she had felt the first time she’d heard it.
“It twisted him, I think. You’ve seen what being a Darranian wizard did to Nevyn. Nevyn pretends he is not a mage; Geoffrey had to be the greatest. So he looked farther for his power than a less driven man might have.”
Wolf growled at her.
She smiled at him. “All right, so perhaps he was just evil.” Turning back to Correy, she said, “It doesn’t matter why he was the way he was, only that he was a black mage such as the world has not seen since the Wizard Wars.”
“The ae’Magi was a black mage? Why didn’t someone notice?” asked Correy.
“Hmm.” Aralorn began brushing Sheen again. “One of the first things we all learn about magic is that a mage cannot take over a man’s mind, that free will is stronger. That may be true of green magic, like mine, and all other forms of human magic—but it is not true of black magic. I saw the ae’Magi whip the skin off a man’s back while the man begged for more. The ae’Magi created a spell that made everyone his adoring slave. It protected him and gave him easy access to his victims. As he amassed more power, he extended the spell. Even now, his magic hasn’t faded entirely—as you saw with Falhart.”
“Why aren’t you or I afflicted?”
She shook her head. “About you, I don’t know for certain. Some people seemed a little immune to it, though most of them were mageborn. You have a priestess of Ridane for a lover, and that might help. Or it could simply be the fading of the spell.”
“So your shapeshifter blood protected you?”
She nodded. “Yes.” She hesitated, but decided the more people with as much information as was safe, the more likely it was that someone would figure out how to save the Lyon. “I suspect it might also have had something to do with my close association with another mage.”
“His son.”
She shrugged, then nodded.
“You said that you’re afraid Geoffrey is not dead?”
“All that was found in the ae’Magi’s castle were bits and pieces of Uriah leavings. It was impossible to know for certain that the ae’Magi’s remains were there. The bindings between the Archmage and the other sorcerers were broken, and the wizard’s council assumed that meant Geoffrey was dead. But who can say for certain?”
“If he was not killed,” said Correy slowly, “would he have any reason to look for you?”
Aralorn nodded. “He wanted to conquer death, and he thought he could do it through his son. He knows I am . . . a friend of his son—I, Aralorn of Lambshold, not just of Sianim. He might also have a touch of vengeance in his motivation. We—ah—had something to do with his untimely demise.”
Correy gave her a small smile. “If he’s not dead, it would be his almost demise.”
“Point to you,” she agreed.
“You think he is responsible for what happened to Father,” said Correy slowly. “That he set Father up as bait, knowing you would go to Cain for help.”
“I think that if he were alive, that is what he would do, yes.”
“Do you think he is alive?”
“No.” She sighed, rolling her shoulders to relieve the strain of reaching Sheen’s back. Short people should have short horses. “I hope not.”
“Kisrah knew,” said Correy slowly. “He knows about you. Did the last ae’Magi tell him?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably. Or he scryed it somehow.”
“Was it Kisrah who ensorcelled Father?” he asked.
“I think . . . I think it was Kisrah and Gerem. I think someone used both of them to set a trap that neither was responsible for.” That sounded right and fit with Kisrah’s actions.
“Someone like Geoffrey ae’Magi.”
She nodded. “He’s not the only possibility.” But he was—unless a legendary, possibly fictitious, creature had begun to stir again. Unfortunately, the ae’Magi’s surviving a Uriah attack without use of his magic was more likely than the emergence of a creature who’d been trapped under a sea of glass for ten centuries.
“Have you really asked for Cain’s help?” asked Correy. “Knowing it could be a trap set for him?” He hesitated. “Knowing what he is?”
She decided that defending Wolf to her brother could be put off for another time, so she simply said, “He’s doing what he can.”
She set the cloth down on a rough bench, took up a comb, and began to work on Sheen’s tail. The stallion jerked his tail irritably, twitching it halfway out of her hand before resigning himself to his fate with a sigh.
Aralorn had been going back through the information she’d given her brother and regretted some of it.
“Correy, for your own safety, don’t talk to anyone about the ae’Magi. His spell is waning, but it is by no means gone—most especially in connection with people he associated closely with, like Lord Kisrah. And I would appreciate it if you would try to keep Hart and Gerem from bandying Cain’s name about, for my safety. There are any number of mages who would like to have something to use against him, someone he cares about—like me.”
“You care about him, too,” said Correy.
“Yes,” she agreed without looking at Wolf. “I do.”
“I will try to keep the others quiet,” Correy promised. He patted her on the shoulder and walked down the wide aisle between stalls. As he left, the wind, which had been still all day, flitted through the open stable doors in a ragged gust.
Death is coming . . . Death and madness dreaming . . .
“Aralorn,” said Wolf sharply, coming to his feet.
She shivered, and, knowing he couldn’t hear the screaming shrieks, gave him a half smile. “I’m all right. It’s just the wind. Wolf, do you still think that talking to Kisrah is a good idea?”
“I don’t know that we have any other option,” he replied. “If he can tell me what spell was used to bind your father, I may be able to unweave it. It’s obvious Gerem, if he’s had any training at all, barely knows how to call a light spell; he couldn’t tell me what he did even if you could persuade him to talk to me. Kisrah will know what his part in the spell was. Otherwise, two weeks doesn’t give me a lot of time to prowl through old books for an answer. Whether Kisrah knew it before your father was ensorcelled or not, he obviously knows that I am involved with you. Talking with him won’t make matters any worse.”
“You don’t think that he’s the impetus behind this?”
“He could be,” he said. “But he has information we need—and now that I’m rested, I can handle Kisrah if he tries anything.”
“Then I’ll go look for him as soon as I finish with Sheen,” she said, and went back to work.