satisfied to seal his power as long as Athaya had… no, he insisted upon remaining sealed for a full week longer to better ensure his superiority.
Tullis halted just out of earshot of the pair of guardsmen posted near the bedchamber door. Their presence was a mere formality, of course; as the most powerful wizard in Sare, Brandegarth of Crewe was fully capable of defending himself if the need arose. And none of the island’s wizards would dare attack him without submitting a formal Challenge first. At best, such an omission would be the height of rudeness; at worst, it would be blasphemy—a slap in God’s almighty face.
“You should know one other thing before you see him,” the steward cautioned her. Drianna’s look of alarm prompted him to continue with haste. “His Grace is not ill—not physically,” he amended, “but he is not the same man whose magic I sealed four months ago. The changes are not always obvious, but they are there.”
Drianna bit down on her lip again, this time drawing blood. “Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? I’m no wizard, but I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” In her erstwhile role as spy at the princess’ camp, Drianna had unearthed as many details as she could about Athaya’s ordeal, memorizing every word and nuance so she could report it to Brand when she returned to Sare. “Jaren and Master Tonia both said that after her fever broke, Athaya was herself again. She had stronger magic, of course, and a bit of memory loss… but her personality hadn’t changed at all.”
“I know. But I also recall your saying that the princess’ powers were released all in a flood, overpowering the two wizards trying to assist her. That was probably the cause of her illness. It took myself and two others to hold the stone back long enough to allow his Grace’s sealed power to seep out gradually, but we did not lose control. Still…” Tullis bowed his head, sending a thin strand of white hair drooping over his brow. “It disturbs me how completely different his Grace’s reaction is to that of the princess. The fact that he wasn’t even the slightest bit sick or tired makes me suspect that the poison of his confinement hasn’t fully drained. He seems more restless now. Less deliberate in his thoughts and actions. And…” His voice trailed off a second time as he labored to find the right words. “He seems—how shall I say it?—drunk on his own existence. Exhilarated, as if he’d sniffed a bit too much pastle seed. Death has Challenged him and lost,” Tullis finished, with far less enthusiasm than the remark should have merited, “and his victory makes him giddy.”
“Perhaps these changes will fade in time,” Drianna suggested hopefully, pushing Tullis’ unsettling news to the back of her mind. “A few more days may see him back to normal.”
“I hope so, my Lady. Magic requires mental disciplines as well as raw power. If he sacrifices the one to gain more of the other, he’ll be no better off—and could end up worse. It could make him careless… and that could kill him as easily as any sealing spell.”
Drianna nodded solemnly as they progressed to the bedchamber door, passing by her own former lodgings on the way. Until recently, she had occupied the spacious chambers adjoining the Sage’s own—a natural arrangement, of course, considering what they were to one another—but as his days under the sealing spell progressed, Brandegarth had grown increasingly volatile and violent; even after securing his master with a binding spell so that he could not leave his rooms, Tullis advised Drianna to move to another wing of the palace so that the Sage’s constant shouts, moans, and senseless nocturnal soliloquies would not upset her. It was difficult to leave his side, but not so difficult as listening to him suffer through self-induced pain day after day and knowing she could do nothing to ease it.
This morning, however, the Sage was silent. The storm
Tullis halted just out of earshot of the pair of guardsmen posted near the bedchamber door. Their presence was a mere formality, of course; as the most powerful wizard in Sare, Brandegarth of Crewe was fully capable of defending himself if the need arose. And none of the island’s wizards would dare attack him without submitting a formal Challenge first. At best, such an omission would be the height of rudeness; at worst, it would be blasphemy—a slap in God’s almighty face.
“You should know one other thing before you see him,” the steward cautioned her. Drianna’s look of alarm prompted him to continue with haste. “His Grace is not ill—not physically,” he amended, “but he is not the same man whose magic I sealed four months ago. The changes are not always obvious, but they are there.”
Drianna bit down on her lip again, this time drawing blood. “Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? I’m no wizard, but I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” In her erstwhile role as spy at the princess’ camp, Drianna had unearthed as many details as she could about Athaya’s ordeal, memorizing every word and nuance so she could report it to Brand when she returned to Sare. “Jaren and Master Tonia both said that after her fever broke, Athaya was herself again. She had stronger magic, of course, and a bit of memory loss… but her personality hadn’t changed at all.”
“I know. But I also recall your saying that the princess’ powers were released all in a flood, overpowering the two wizards trying to assist her. That was probably the cause of her illness. It took myself and two others to hold the stone back long enough to allow his Grace’s sealed power to seep out gradually, but we did not lose control. Still…” Tullis bowed his head, sending a thin strand of white hair drooping over his brow. “It disturbs me how completely different his Grace’s reaction is to that of the princess. The fact that he wasn’t even the slightest bit sick or tired makes me suspect that the poison of his confinement hasn’t fully drained. He seems more restless now. Less deliberate in his thoughts and actions. And…” His voice trailed off a second time as he labored to find the right words. “He seems—how shall I say it?—drunk on his own existence. Exhilarated, as if he’d sniffed a bit too much pastle seed. Death has Challenged him and lost,” Tullis finished, with far less enthusiasm than the remark should have merited, “and his victory makes him giddy.”
“Perhaps these changes will fade in time,” Drianna suggested hopefully, pushing Tullis’ unsettling news to the back of her mind. “A few more days may see him back to normal.”
“I hope so, my Lady. Magic requires mental disciplines as well as raw power. If he sacrifices the one to gain more of the other, he’ll be no better off—and could end up worse. It could make him careless… and that could kill him as easily as any sealing spell.”
Drianna nodded solemnly as they progressed to the bedchamber door, passing by her own former lodgings on the way. Until recently, she had occupied the spacious chambers adjoining the Sage’s own—a natural arrangement, of course, considering what they were to one another—but as his days under the sealing spell progressed, Brandegarth had grown increasingly volatile and violent; even after securing his master with a binding spell so that he could not leave his rooms, Tullis advised Drianna to move to another wing of the palace so that the Sage’s constant shouts, moans, and senseless nocturnal soliloquies would not upset her. It was difficult to leave his side, but not so difficult as listening to him suffer through self-induced pain day after day and knowing she could do nothing to ease it.
This morning, however, the Sage was silent. The storm
Similar Books
