Thief (The Key to Magic Book 7) Read online

  More than once as she passed these demonstrations, Telriy heard phases of reverent praise such as "Righteous Champion and Sanctified Emissary of the Gods!" paired with Mar's name.

  When she first heard the phrase "Holy Consort of the Beloved of the Gods" in reference to herself, she walked faster and kept the cowl of her dressing robe close about her face lest she be recognized.

  They found the villa intact and apparently undisturbed. The full complement of the Imperial household was standing in the courtyard and staring at the building, which appeared to Telriy to be undisturbed.

  Tsyl, who Yhejia had left in charge, stood in front with her young son Baeyrl. With her was little Pip, the boy who everyone knew was the last prince of the royal line of Mhajhkaei but who no one ever spoke of as anything other than the orphan that the king's household, and Yhejia and Tsyl in particular, had collectively adopted. Signifier Aael, the Auxiliaries, and Yhejia and Ulor's children made a semi-circle behind them and then in the final informal rank were the Monolith Contingent legionnaires who formed the villa's permanent guard force, their spouses and children, and the Mhajhkaeirii'n house maids and footmen who had been swept along when Mar had ordered the evacuation of the Palace at The Greatest City in All the World.

  A ragged cheer went up immediately and the mob surrounded the three of them, overflowing with questions, exited chatter, and outright whoops of joy.

  Assuring Yhejia that she was well able to care for Celly without aid, Telriy immediately deployed her stalwart companion to fend off the attention, to consult with Tsyl, to attend to her own agitated brood, to inspect the villa and outbuildings for damage, and to organize the guards and staff as required.

  Then she retreated up the stairs, crossed the balcony and the hallway almost at a run, shuttered her door behind her, and leaned against the heavy barrier in weary relief as she held Celly tight in her arms. The stout oak gave her a sense that she had placed a shield -- however temporary and insubstantial -- between her and her daughter and the rest of an unwanted world

  For a brief moment, she considered casting the Discouraging Ward on the dense wood as a further buffer, but she did not feel energized enough to sing the entire Key. Also, these were her own people here and using magic to dissuade them from interrupting her privacy struck her as ungrateful, if not outright disloyal.

  After another moment, she did cast a charm, speaking the ancient words to enact the Serenity Vapor. That simple spell caused the sharp smells of the newly sawn oak to penetrate the nervousness and worry that confined her thoughts, clearing her mind of stress and anxiety. Soon relaxed, she straightened and moved to her chair, which still sat along the window wall, exactly as she had left it when her pains had come upon her. The afternoon sun blazed through the manheight marble casements, a soothing golden light that warmed her skin and eased the aches of her body.

  In an idle revelry, she wondered what chance had preserved the new window glass, which had been inset into the only slightly less new hinged frames within the last few days, during the upheaval, but did not trouble herself over the odd good fortune. The large panes, clear and brilliant, seemed to magnify the warmth of the light on her face.

  Celly immediately began to fuss, scrunching up her tiny face. The sound of her weak cries made Telriy's full breasts tighten painfully and she placed Celly on her lap so that she could open the birthing robe and the thin gown beneath it.

  Gran had explained the mechanics of nursing in straightforward and occasionally witty detail and both Yhejia and Aunt Whelsi had offered their own experience-based advice, but it took Telriy a moment to work out how exactly to hold Celly to allow her to feed comfortably. Soon, though, her sweet, dear child had latched on and was contentedly suckling.

  This first time was not exactly pleasant for Telriy. Her body, as Gran and Yhejia and Aunt Whelsi had explained to her in equally straightforward but gritty detail, had begun to readjust and heal after the birth and nursing was an intrinsic trigger for that natural and normal process.

  When Celly was as full as she wanted to be -- she had not taken much at all and Telriy's breasts still felt full -- and sleeping, she placed her on the corner of the big bed -- her and Mar's marriage bed, though the two of them had spent pitifully few nights in it together -- discarded the robe and gown, washed quickly with the basin and the chill water in the pitcher, and donned some of the smallclothes that she had stored when her growing child had forced her into larger sizes. Knowing that some of her old trousers would also now fit, she pulled a pair from the bottom drawer of her bureau, got into them, then added a heavy linen shirt. She normally wore a cotton shift under the tough material, but reasoning that it would only add an unwanted complication to nursing, she left it off. She set out her good boots, but stayed in bare feet for the moment.

  Without quite thinking about it, she had dressed for travel.

  Then, feeling clean but not refreshed, she gathered up her daughter and sat back in the warm sun. She thought to nap as well, but could not.

  She did not know what to do.

  A foreboding of great evil -- a flash of truly horrific visions of battle and disaster -- had seized her at the moment that she had felt Mar return to the world and she had not been able to shake the chilling certainty that her beautiful new daughter would come to harm when her husband waged war anew.

  It would be terrible beyond imagining, this newest war.

  Mar was a wizard now, one more dread and powerful than any of the outrageous ancient fiends that had strewn terror through the exciting tales that Gran had spun to enliven their dull rustic evenings.

  Though none of the fleeting glimpses that she had received had been complete enough to warn her exactly where, when, or how, she could not escape the conviction that Mar would fall, courageous and victorious to be certain, but none the less dead and gone from her forever.

  The return of Waleck had seemed but a final and irrefutable confirmation of impending and utter catastrophe.

  That despised fiend had been a plague upon her life since she had first met Mar and she was convinced that the sorcerer's wicked designs and machinations had somehow disrupted her own promised fate -- the future that Gran had foreseen so long ago.

  But was that future of any value at all?

  Knowing now what kingship was, she was certain that she did not want her sons to have to endure that burden.

  In this moment, she realized that she now no longer cared at all for that future. Save for the children that it had promised, she saw nothing in it that she truly wanted. It was difficult, now, to understand why she ever had. For most of her early life, she had thought it inevitable that she would be the mother of kings, that by her will and actions she could foreordain the fulfillment of Gran's prophecy. Perhaps it had been the lingering yearnings of an oft destitute child for physical comforts that had driven her, or perhaps simply her own conviction that she must not allow the world at large to define her place in life, but she had pursued that fate, found Khalar and Mar.

  She did not regret Mar or Celly, but none of the rest -- the trappings of being Queen and Empress, the power of the magic that she had learned from Mar, the respect and reverence that many now held for her -- mattered any dram at all.

  Would that she could simply abandon it all.

  And why could she not?

  It was only six days since Ghorn had dragged her back into the insanity.

  If she did stay, just for the sake of Mar, to whom she was bound by magic and life, she might lose not only him, but her daughter as well. Once again, she would be utterly alone in the world.

  No one could hide from a master of time and space, but she knew that he would not try to drag her back or follow to plead for her return. She was not quite certain how she knew this, but she knew it. He would leave her in peace, judging her and their daughter safer hidden away, while he made war.

  Gran had once told her, "Think with your head, not your heart, girl, 'cause thinkin' with your heart only makes babies and wid
ows."

  After letting that harsh advice echo through her head for a few moments, she realized that her only rational choice was to save what she could.

  No matter how painful it would be.

  Before her decision could become plans, Mar appeared, stepping from nowhere into the room. The disruption caused by his arrival made black waves reflect through the background ether and bounce around the room for a moment. Telriy knew that her sense of the ether had begun to grow remarkably at the instant of Celly's birth, but this newest evidence of the increase in her magical skill caused her not the joy that it might once have but rather troubling concern.

  He was wearing the same shirt, but his trousers were a different color and cut and she thought his hair slightly longer. More time had passed for him than for her, an idea that was more than a little frightening.

  "How does one learn to be a wizard?" she asked him.

  "By being a wizard, I suppose."

  "The Mhajhkaeirii have made you a king and an emperor. Now they would make you a god."

  His expression darkened for a brief moment. "I am what I always was."

  "And what would that be?"

  "Just a man." He walked to her chair, some nervous and eager. "You're well? And the baby?"

  "We're fine."

  He beamed as he gazed upon Celly's face, the only part of her not hidden by her swaddling clothes. "She's magnificent!"

  "Her name is Celly." She said this almost as a challenge.

  For just an instant, he had a faraway look -- it was as if he were no longer in the room with her -- then he smiled and nodded in approval. "A good name."

  She saw his hands move slightly, then relax. "Do you want to hold her?"

  He grinned. "Yes, very much."

  For several long moments, they acted just like all the new parents that she had seen when, as an adolescent, she had accompanied Gran for the few years that she had done midwifery. They cooed and aahed and cuddled and said silly things to Celly, who only managed a single yawn and a bemused look in reply.

  Then he sobered and passed their daughter back into her arms.

  "I can't stay." He said in a flat tone.

  "I know."

  He bent down to bring his face nearer hers.

  Knowing he wanted a kiss, she hesitated a moment, restrained by her decision and the future that she had chosen, but then surrendered to the side of herself that loved him, and let her lips touch his for a brief last time.

  He leaned into the kiss, fiercely, passionately, and she did nothing to mitigate her own fierce and passionate response.

  When he drew back, smiling, she felt a moment of hurt, knowing that the lie that she had just told would wound him to the core, but she overrode the emotion and pasted a false smile on her face.

  If she told him that she was going her own way, she knew that he would ask her to stay. One of the things that she was afraid of was that she would not be strong enough to say no.

  As he turned about, it seemed to her that the cast of his shoulders and confidence in his movements declared that he was secure in the thought that he was master of his own fate.

  Her forebodings promised that he would soon find out otherwise.

  With a casual gesture, he opened a hole that she could almost see into a place that was not there, and she was once again alone.

  No, that was not true!

  And it never would be again!

  She looked down at Celly for just a moment, then stood and put her on the bed. With calm efficiency, she began to gather the few things that they would need on their journey.

  THREE

  nhBreen climbed to his feet and gazed across the coarse ebony strand at an aquamarine ocean made resplendent by a sunset wreathed in crimson clouds, then turned about to examine the emerald jungle that came all the way down to the high tide line. The trees were old growth, twenty manheight high and more, making him tilt his head far back to see the tops, and the vines that looped through every gap in the boles were as much as an armlength thick. No man had ever hacked a path through this fortress of vegetation. Above the treetops, a sharp featured volcanic mountain, its barren slopes black and flinty, rose up in the middle distance.

  He swung his head. The black beach and damp jungle extended in both directions for half a league before curving around out of sight. This was an island, but then his dreams had already hinted at that.

  None of the trees and plants were of species that he could identify, though from the context -- air thick with moisture and almost smothering -- he suspected that they were all equatorial. He raised his eyes to the darkening sky. The few stars that had begun to show hints were the wrong stars.

  Was he in a far future or a prehistoric past?

  A measurement of the entropic state of the background flux would have provided an approximate answer to that question, but he dared not attempt such with Mar so near. The young wizard would certainly detect the ripples that the complex spell would generate in the ether.

  But the question was one that would occur to anyone and Mar should not be surprised that he asked it. "Where and when are we?"

  "You can survive here," Mar told him in harsh rebuff.

  nhBreen did not need to read the ether to know that Mar would provide no other information and that the young man would not be concerned should the alternative prove the case.

  As nhBreen had known, this Mar was no longer the withdrawn and contemptuous Khalarii'n thief that Waleck had met in that filthy alley only some dozens of months previously -- at least in linear time. As he had followed the path that Waleck had set him upon, Mar had become not only a master of the ether, but a master of himself.

  Of course, nhBreen's own manipulations had spurred the young magician faster onward towards both goals, but nothing that the sorcerer had done had to any significant extent diverted Mar from the destiny that his very existence had demanded -- a destiny that would return the light of magic in full measure to a blighted and darkened world.

  Mar made an offhand gesture at the lapping waves. "If you work, you'll be able to feed yourself by fishing and gathering. There's a spring two hundred paces inland."

  nhBreen contemplated Mar for a couple of moments -- solely for effect -- then said in a relaxed tone, "You need have no fear of me. I am only Waleck. The demon that possessed me is gone. My mind has finally been healed."

  Mar scowled. "Whether it has or has not, you will remain here."

  "Exiled in time and space till the end of my days?"

  The young man shrugged.

  "I understand your caution," nhBreen stated, careful not to smile as the conversation played out exactly as he had foreseen. "But the sorcerer and his schemes are finished. I simply want to live out my life at peace with the world and, if at all possible, make up in some wise for the evil acts perpetrated by my demon."

  For all of his sophistication in magic and his years of experience with the darker realities of life, nhBreen knew that Mar had not yet become sufficiently callous as to abandon Waleck -- or perhaps anyone -- to a harsh and lonely death. This thief become emperor had and would sign death warrants, kill by his own hand and by the strength of his magic in battle, and order men to go forth to die for Emperor and Empire, but in his heart he still clung to the fanciful illusions of rightness and justice that his imagination had called forth during an orphan's destitute childhood.

  "I will not argue against my punishment," nhBreen continued. "I will wait here, troubling no one and no thing, until you return to fetch me."

  "I won't return."

  "My dreams tell me otherwise."

  "Dreams or no, this is where you will die."

  "If that is my fate, then so be it, but I want to help and I will if you will permit me to do so. In his time, nhBreen was an expert on the interpretation of the humors reflected from the ether and I have regained that power in full measure. My dreams show me the futures that may come and I believe that I can now be of great use to you. While time and space are no longer
barriers for you and you may be able, in a manner of speaking, to be in two or three or a dozen places at once, some guidance from the ether would make your efforts to defeat the Brotherhood of Phaelle and bring peace to our world much more efficient."

  Expression still hard, Mar looked at him for a moment longer, then turned away, took a step, and vanished mid-stride.

  nhBreen sighed -- again simply for effect -- then began to march up the beach towards the jungle. There were snakes and other unpleasant creatures in the dank foliage and he would have to seek out a tree to sleep in this first night.

  Over the next few long, laborious days, nhBreen took care to use only simple spells as he set about the construction of a dwelling on a low bluff above the sheltered lagoon that he had found on the opposite side of the island. The small hut had only branches, mud daub, and thatch for walls and roof, but a weak consolidating hex made it quite nearly waterproof to the frequent light rains. He used no magic at all to tease fish from the turquoise waters of the lagoon and tested the unfamiliar fruits, berries, and nuts that he gathered from the jungle with taste and smell alone. While he had no option but to light fires, dispose of his bodily wastes, and purify water with charms and hexes, he used versions of the most fundamental and weak sort. In everything, he avoided any magic that might suggest the full potential of his extensive offensive and defensive arsenal.

  He also made sure that he carried himself as Waleck had when the latter had had control of their flesh, assuming the stodgy demeanor, slightly stooped posture, and tired mannerisms that Mar had known of the worn ancient miner during their time in the Great Waste.

  When nhBreen had been a student, Whinseschlos had been required reading and while he recalled that at the time he had considered the tome to be self-serving philosophical drivel, one key lesson that he had taken from it was the knowledge that a wizard had the capability to spy upon anyone at any time without any possibility of being detected.