had momentarily paralysed him, but then with horror he realised he had been bewitched. There was no muscle of his body that remained in his voluntary control.
“As I was saying, brother,” Xander went on in a conversational tone before his immobilised brother. “I have not bee n idle. You are experiencing but one of the many skills and tricks I have acquired. Here let me show you another.”
Another blindingly fast curl and twist of fingers and hands ended with Xander sliding his palm down Udecht’s sweating brow as he intoned, “dare mihi faciem tuam et tollat mea, Udecht.”
As the hand blocked his vision, Udecht felt a terrible nauseating sensation of dizziness and disorientation. He blinked and trembled and as his line of sight cleared was sickened still further by the vision before him. It was as though looking in a mirror. The man facing him still wore the silken nightshirt which Udecht had put on him for comfort’s sake, but the face and body was not Xander’s but Udecht’s own, even down to the swelling belly beneath the night shift. The expression of cruel triumph facing the frozen Bishop was, however, entirely Xander’s, albeit painted on his younger brother’s features. “By Eadran’s blood, you should see yourself, brother,” Xander cried through a mouth like Udecht’s. “Do I really look like that? Here, have a look at your hands. Oh no, I was forgetting you can’t move!”
The B ishop’s trapped mind ran like a runaway cart within his frozen body as Xander cheerfully pulled off his robes and arranged the clothing so it matched the appearance their respective bodies now bore. Then he levered Udecht carefully onto the bed, facing the wall. “There brother, rest easy. You see, I mean you no harm, I want you of all people to witness and share my triumph. You wait here. I should be back long before this enchantment wears off and I will have some new friends for you to meet.”
As the transformed Udecht lay hapless and helpless on the bed, tears of shame and fear ran down his cheeks. But the two guards at the door saw and heard only what they expected. that is the Bishop Udecht leaving the sleeping prisoner with an admonition that his brother was quite exhausted and not to be disturbed until morning.
***
The fire in the captains’ wardroom threw fierce shadows across the walls as the flames devoured the stack of logs in the grate, yet still Captain Thackery shivered and held his mug of mulled mead close, in need as much of its warmth as its flavour.
“It’s cold out there, Kim ,” he said to his fellow officer. “Colder than I’ve ever known it.”
“I guess it must get into old bones like yours more easily,” Kimbolt teased.
“Beardless pup,” Thackery shot back. “I can remember when you were a raw recruit, wet behind the ears.” He supped on his drink. “You thought you knew it all then as well so some things haven’t changed.”
The younger man raised his own glass in a toast of salute. “The world changes, friend.”
Thackery nodded, “’n not just the weather. Talk with the men is that there’ll soon have to be two exile escort patrols each month.”
Kimbolt frowned at the worrying thought, though it was one he had been consid ering himself. “How could they?” he chose the role of Devil’s advocate. “I mean the assizes are only held monthly.”
“Them’d have to change as well .” When his colleague arched a sceptical eyebrow, Thackery went on. “C’mon Kim, you know as well as I do we’re processing two even three times as many exiles than we used to when I started and more and more of them are workers of the dark arts.” He spat at the mere contemplation of the forbidden mages. “They’re zealots, not even afraid of exile anymore, like some kind of cult. We fill them to the gizzards with mindnumbing juice, particularly on the day they go out. Now that used to have them crapping themselves, like we
“As I was saying, brother,” Xander went on in a conversational tone before his immobilised brother. “I have not bee n idle. You are experiencing but one of the many skills and tricks I have acquired. Here let me show you another.”
Another blindingly fast curl and twist of fingers and hands ended with Xander sliding his palm down Udecht’s sweating brow as he intoned, “dare mihi faciem tuam et tollat mea, Udecht.”
As the hand blocked his vision, Udecht felt a terrible nauseating sensation of dizziness and disorientation. He blinked and trembled and as his line of sight cleared was sickened still further by the vision before him. It was as though looking in a mirror. The man facing him still wore the silken nightshirt which Udecht had put on him for comfort’s sake, but the face and body was not Xander’s but Udecht’s own, even down to the swelling belly beneath the night shift. The expression of cruel triumph facing the frozen Bishop was, however, entirely Xander’s, albeit painted on his younger brother’s features. “By Eadran’s blood, you should see yourself, brother,” Xander cried through a mouth like Udecht’s. “Do I really look like that? Here, have a look at your hands. Oh no, I was forgetting you can’t move!”
The B ishop’s trapped mind ran like a runaway cart within his frozen body as Xander cheerfully pulled off his robes and arranged the clothing so it matched the appearance their respective bodies now bore. Then he levered Udecht carefully onto the bed, facing the wall. “There brother, rest easy. You see, I mean you no harm, I want you of all people to witness and share my triumph. You wait here. I should be back long before this enchantment wears off and I will have some new friends for you to meet.”
As the transformed Udecht lay hapless and helpless on the bed, tears of shame and fear ran down his cheeks. But the two guards at the door saw and heard only what they expected. that is the Bishop Udecht leaving the sleeping prisoner with an admonition that his brother was quite exhausted and not to be disturbed until morning.
***
The fire in the captains’ wardroom threw fierce shadows across the walls as the flames devoured the stack of logs in the grate, yet still Captain Thackery shivered and held his mug of mulled mead close, in need as much of its warmth as its flavour.
“It’s cold out there, Kim ,” he said to his fellow officer. “Colder than I’ve ever known it.”
“I guess it must get into old bones like yours more easily,” Kimbolt teased.
“Beardless pup,” Thackery shot back. “I can remember when you were a raw recruit, wet behind the ears.” He supped on his drink. “You thought you knew it all then as well so some things haven’t changed.”
The younger man raised his own glass in a toast of salute. “The world changes, friend.”
Thackery nodded, “’n not just the weather. Talk with the men is that there’ll soon have to be two exile escort patrols each month.”
Kimbolt frowned at the worrying thought, though it was one he had been consid ering himself. “How could they?” he chose the role of Devil’s advocate. “I mean the assizes are only held monthly.”
“Them’d have to change as well .” When his colleague arched a sceptical eyebrow, Thackery went on. “C’mon Kim, you know as well as I do we’re processing two even three times as many exiles than we used to when I started and more and more of them are workers of the dark arts.” He spat at the mere contemplation of the forbidden mages. “They’re zealots, not even afraid of exile anymore, like some kind of cult. We fill them to the gizzards with mindnumbing juice, particularly on the day they go out. Now that used to have them crapping themselves, like we
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