Chapter 10
Thom of Trebond, aspiring wizard and twin to Alanna, looked back at his window and smiled grimly to himself. The falcon sitting on the sill had been there since midday, and hadn't moved an inch in all that time.
"Alright, my mysterious friend, now that I have time … let's see what's so special about you, shall we?"
The peregrine falcon stared at him, unblinking.
Thom threw a small fireball at his uninvited guest, having guessed a while ago that the bird was not all it seemed. Sure enough, on touching the bird the fireball shrivelled into nothing.
The peregrine falcon ruffled its feathers. Thom gaped.
He started to channel his will into a more powerful spell, a spell of enclosing. But the falcon shook its head and Thom felt his magic come undone. What was this bird? Even a wizard's familiar, endowed with magical abilities, should not have had the power required to best him.
Thom focused himself once more, telling himself he couldn't be put off by a fluke of luck. What kind of a wizard would he be if he allowed such a minor setback to ruin his self-confidence?
Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Thom closed his eyes, and opened a mental eye of true-seeing. With this invisible eye, he turned his gaze back to the mysterious peregrine falcon perched on his windowsill. And zoomed into those dark eyes.
Thom didn't know what he expected to find, perhaps a bird with artificial intelligence? Or that the bird was just a holographic image broadcast by some wizard's magic, to spy on him?
What Thom found made him stumble several paces back, clutching his eyes, whimpering.
"I'm sorry," said Will, a man again, sitting on the windowsill. "I didn't think you'd do that. I didn't think you could. Are you alright?"
Thom put up an arm to shield himself from what he knew must be an attack on him by powerful magic. Despite himself, he started praying, old children's prayers coming unsought to his lips.
"Hey, c'mon, pull yourself together, I don't want to hurt you." Will said, "Alanna sent me, because the Rogue's messengers were getting killed off. She says Happy Birthday, in advance."
"Oh." Oh?!
"See? And you thought I was some kind of demon? Please. Here, let me help you up. Whoa," Will slid off the windowsill, to the ground, and came to a standstill. "Whoa." He said again. Incredible. The very rock burns with magic – so pure it could be High Magic itself. "This wasn't how I imagined meeting you for the first time. I didn't think you'd be so nervous."
"Huh. Well. I thought I was a better wizard than I obviously am. I was thinking of taking the examinations of Mastery this summer."
You have a choice about taking exams? And you're taking them?! Workaholic. Outloud, he said instead, "Nice. I'm sure you'll pass with flying colours."
Thom stared at him. "Gods," he muttered, "I could have told anyone else and they might have had a heart-attack from shock. Figures I'd get the one person in the world who didn't give a damn."
Will shrugged, "I didn't know it was such a big deal. Good luck."
"I don't need luck. I was ready to be a Master months ago. Or so I thought." Thom said bitterly.
"You look a lot like your sister, you know." Will said thoughtfully, "Except of course she hasn't got a beard."
Thom managed a smile, "Indeed." He sighed, "and what news have you brought for me? Mithros, I have a man who changes from bird to beast in my room and I haven't yet asked him his name. How rude of me. What is your name, please?"
"Will Stanton. Alanna gave me this letter. Don't worry, I haven't read it," Will grinned. "I was thinking of staying around here for a week or so, so if you have any mail you want sent back to her, feel free to use me." He looked outside. "I hadn't realised there was a temple of Mithros here, but I s'pose I should have guessed by the name of this place that he'd be represented somewhere."
"Who are you, Will Stanton?" asked Thom now, "any Tortallan knows of the City of the Gods. But you seem not to."
"Oh, call me Will, please," said Will easily, "what can I say? I never travelled much as a child. You don't mind if I go have a look at the temple? You probably want some privacy reading the letter."
"Er, yes. Thanks." Thom, surprised, found he was reluctant to let Will out of his sight. He wanted to learn about this mystery of a man. All Thom had really found out was his name. And since it was obvious he had power and skill in abundance, just a name did not satisfy Thom at all.
Outside, Will met an old yellow-skinned man in black and gold robes. Will could tell he was a wizard – something about the way Duke Roger carried himself was present in this man.
The man stopped him.
"Good evening. Forgive me for asking, but I did not see you arrive. Please, when did you get here, and where are you staying?"
"I got here half an hour ago, I think, though I don't keep time very well. I'm not staying with anyone especially, but I think Thom of Trebond may graciously allow me to stay with him."
"I see," said the old man, masking his unease with politeness. "In that case, be welcome here. I am Si-Cham, head of the Cult of Mithros and Chief of the Masters here. Who did you say you were?"
"Will Stanton. Head of the Cult of Mithros and Chief of the Masters? That sounds prestigious. What do you do?" asked Will interestedly, and not at all intimidated.
Master Si-Cham looked at him sharply, as if guarding against sarcasm. "I am the most senior sorcerer residing in the City of the Gods and I am head-priest of the religion of the god Mithros. I take services and lead in the worship of the deity."
"Wow," said Will, eyes glowing with interest, "Would you show me your magic? I haven't ever really seen anything beautiful done with it."
"Um," said Master Si-Cham, a little taken aback, his sense of unease growing, "Of course. Though usually magic shouldn't be used for the purposes of entertainment. It is an art that should be practised with great care. But I would take pleasure in showing you the lighter and more pleasant side of the Gift."
"Borozonic."
And then Master Si-Cham went to work, employing every trick at his disposal to dazzle this odd visitor.
Flowers were everywhere, and petals danced, catching the sunlight as though they existed only for that purpose – birdsong mingled in a pleasant murmur, each tune entwining with and complementing perfectly the others. The sky shone blue and then became the rosy hue of sunset, the black profoundness of night. Entranced, Will's gaze was caught. Seasons seemed to pass in front of him. Trees grew, and elder ones withered, but it was not their physical forms that Will was given to see, it was their essences – first youthful, flourishing green and then ageing and maturing golds.
Will was captivated. Constellations of stars moved in the sky. Ages passed in seconds, and were lost.
Si-Cham lost his concentration when the first tear leaked out of Will's eye: "So mote it be," he murmured, and the experience ended.
"This ... was beautiful." Will said. "You showed me life and time, and it's so beautiful."
Master Si-Cham nodded. "Enjoy it while you can. Life tends to lose its appeal when you get stiff and old." He raised his hands, "I know I am a wizard, and I can soothe the aches and pains of age away. But it tires me."
"Then let this be my gift to you," said Will, extending his hand. Si-Cham helped him to his feet, not sure what he was talking about. It was only as Will released his hold on his hand that Si-Cham understood what he had done. His body felt as young and spry as it had fifty years ago. He gaped speechlessly.
"Don't thank me." Will said with a smile.
"Why – why did you ask me? Your power is greater than mine. Why ask an old man such as I to show you his magic?"
"Because my power holds no pleasure for me. It is my tool. I must not abuse it."
"There aren't many people like you, Will Stanton."
"As far as I knew, there weren't any people like me left at all." Will shrugged. "Go enjoy your youth. There's no telling how long it will last."
"How long did you say you intended to stay here?" Master Si-Cham asked as he turned to go.
"A week. Less probably."
"And you are staying in Adept Thom's rooms. I think I will show you the temple of Mithros one day then."
Master Si-Cham went, before Will had time to tell him he had been intending to visit the temple that very hour.
–
The days seemed to blur. Will had nothing to do and, though the memory of Master Si-Cham's awesome magical display lingered foremost in his mind, as the day of his return to Corus approached, he fell to brooding about Laughing Nell. For though her rage had appeared to abate, and she had stopped asking awkward questions, Will knew she still had doubts about him.
Never had she been so angry with him – but that wasn't what had worried him the most. It was the fear he'd seen, shining out of her eyes: Nell had been afraid of him. He understood only too well. What sort of person could he be, to catch the Duke of Conté's attention so completely as to be given the honour of an audience. If he, Will, made the Duke nervous, he must be more dangerous than he let on. And if the Duke – one of the most powerful sorcerers in Tortall, perhaps even on the face of the earth – was nervous, then that made other people nervous too. It especially concerned Will how Nell seemed to be siding with the Rogue now. As if he didn't have enough to contend with as it was. It would lend credibility to the Rogue's distrust of Will, if even Laughing Nell lost faith in him, and then the entire Court of the Rogue would be against him. Most tortuous of all, Will had to watch Nell be upset and confused, and not be able to explain himself. Enough to let her believe he was a mage, that was within the realms of human imagination – but beyond that, and she would think he was insane.
Days passed with Will in this inescapable frame of mind, until finally Thom sent for Master Si-Cham, who came and sat by Will. It was his last day, the day Will had intended to leave the City of the Gods by. Suddenly he was reluctant to depart. As if he could feel the weight of Will's dilemma, Master Si-Cham waited a few minutes before speaking.
"Adept Thom says you aren't eating well."
"I don't need to eat."
Master Si-Cham paused, "Perhaps not, but it will do wonders for your mood."
Will sighed despondently.
"A woman, is it, perchance?" Master Si-Cham ventured, and when Will inclined his head slightly, smiled. "That's always the way of things."
"I can't think of anything else. Or anyone else." said Will.
"Then make things to think of. Cheer up," said Master Si-Cham hauling him to his feet, "First priority, food. Then maybe some recreation, to take your mind off your problems."
"It's no good putting things off till tomorrow, sir," said Will, "my mum always says that."
"And it's true. But what good will come of this worrying? You are depressing yourself."
"And 'self-pity is the greatest form of cowardice', said Marcus Aurelius." Will quoted softly. "That would be my dad, if he were here."
"A fascinating idea," said Master Si-Cham, without a clue as to who Marcus Aurelius was, "and is it not feasible that an answer will come to you when you seek it the least?"
"Yeah. S'pose I'll just take my chances."
Motivated, Will followed Master Si-Cham's lead, and soon found himself eating, surprising himself with his sudden hunger.
It was only as his stomach was finally sated that Master Si-Cham engaged him in conversation once more, lacing his fingers together thoughtfully.
"Will Stanton, on the first day of your stay here, you showed yourself to be a very powerful … spell-weaver," Master Si-Cham settled on the word reluctantly, as though he was aware it wasn't quite the term he wanted.
"And I would like to invite you to duel the warrior-monks of the City of the Gods. So that they may exercise their skills against a worthy opponent."
"That's very flattering, but–"
"Are you afraid that you may lose control of your power, and risk blasting them to smithereens?"
Will's lip curled in involuntary scorn. Ha. As if.
"Not at all," he said smoothly, "I don't think I could lose control if I wanted to." He made a quick change of decision. "It would be an honour to join in battle against your men."
Moments later they stood in a courtyard with a band of warrior-monks, and Will grew suspicious that the event had been pre-arranged.
"You are all accomplished magic-users," Master Si-Cham started, "So please have no doubts concerning the capability of your opponent."
The warrior-monks bowed politely to Will, who, taken by surprise, bowed quickly back in the manner that Aram Sklaw had taught him. Then they squared off and faced one another.
He could read their confidence out of their eyes, and their derision at having to compete against him. Clearly they were very well-trained, the best that the City of the Gods had to offer, and they had refined their teamwork to the point where they could almost read each others' thoughts. But not mine.
"I'm sorry," Will said, "but the rock that this city is founded on is steeped in a very pure magic. It's very distracting to be in contact with it." Now he stepped up into thin air, a foot above the ground, as if he'd created an invisible platform.
"Now I'm ready."
The warrior-monks glanced at each other, and as one they launched their assault. It would have been guaranteed to bring any mortal to their knees; the execution was perfect, the combination of magical and physical combat was flawless, and not one of the band faltered. However Will was not mortal.
It came as a shock to the warrior-monks as the air they lunged through seemed to rebel against their bodies and their Gifts – dispersing their spells and flinging them to the ground like pebbles.
The air had a mind of its own and didn't stop there, keeping a constant pressure on them, then becoming heavier so that the warrior-monks found themselves sinking as their bodies made grooves in the earth.
Finally one regained his senses and with one concentrated shove of magic, broke free of his invisible manacles. He rose shakily to his feet, breathing hard, perspiration beading his forehead. Knowing that no straightforward, physical attack would penetrate Will's guard, he leapt into the air, freeing the staff from his back so that he wasn't entirely unarmed.
With his last burst of magical strength he carried himself high into the air, then brought himself down in a momentum-gathering plunge towards Will's head. He had judged that Will must be almost devoid of magic. But Will had barely scratched the surface of the power of the Old Ones.
He raised his eyes as the warrior-monk descended, absorbing every detail – his in-taken breath, his arms swept back, his hands clenching his staff whitely. And then suddenly the details froze and the warrior-monk's dive was checked. His eyes grew round as he found his muscles stiff and unresponsive, his very lungs turned to stone, only his mind untouched.
Then Will blinked, and the warrior-monk, who had been a metre away, dropped to the ground with the rest of his band.
Now they rose, their limbs moving independently of their minds, and Will bowed to them. Master Si-Cham clapped.
"Enough. Thank-you, Will Stanton."
"There's nothing to thank me for." Will released the warrior-monks and looked them over appraisingly. "It was beautifully orchestrated."
"But quite futile," muttered one of the warrior-monks, his voice light, concealing his bitterness and his shame.
Will shrugged. "You can't win them all."
The warrior-monks were awed by Will's effortless display of power, and he could see them biting back questions. He knew that all they could think of was how none of them had been able to lay a finger on him.
"I only hope you never take it into your head to attack the City of the Gods," said one.
"It's not on my to-do list," replied Will.
Master Si-Cham grinned. "We are glad. But now I promised you that I would show you the temple of Mithros, and these monks must return to their duties."
"I have no duties," Thom had appeared out of nowhere, "I'd be happy to accompany the two of you," he offered, smiling, as Master Si-Cham scowled.
The warrior-monks bowed deeply as they took their leave, full of reverence.
Thom fretted silently as they made their way to the temple. He had watched Will duel the warrior-monks in secret, thinking he would learn something of Will's 'true identity' – but he had learnt nothing. But he knew as surely as he knew his name that there was something amiss about Will Stanton. Not just anybody could beat the warrior-monks with such ease. And besides that, Thom's dreams had been hounded by visions of what he had Seen in Will – as though Will's body were just a vessel for the blinding beacon of light within. Yet today was the last day of Will's stay – the last day for Thom to discover his secrets.
Then they had reached the temple of Mithros, and slowly ascended the stone steps at the front to the entrance.
"Tell me about Mithros," said Will softly as they stepped inside.
"He is a warrior god," said Master Si-Cham, "but in the old texts he is depicted always as being a defender, and he has come to symbolise protection to many of his worshippers."
"It's all black and gold here. Only one altar?" murmured Will, "I guess that fits. A soldier lives pretty sparsely. It's only right for a soldiers' temple to be Spartan too."
"It is said, though of course unproven, that the god Mithros is black-skinned and sports golden armour. In reality, gold would be much too soft a metal to bother forging armour out of, and so people who want it settle with gold-plated iron armour," said Thom.
Will, unhearing, stood mesmerised in front of the polished statue of Mithros.
"It only just resembles him," he said at last when he had found his voice, "but for a moment, it was like he was there, staring at me out of those dead eyes." He shivered. He's been watching me. Every move I've made. Does he approve?
The mission was once more at the forefront of his mind. Will wondered briefly if that had been Mithros's aim. More importantly, Will knew it was essential to continue with the mission. He must be more focused, more determined.
"It is good that even a man such as yourself can be humbled," said Master Si-Cham. "But I am afraid I must leave you now in order to say the daily prayers."
"Come on, Will," beckoned Thom, "you don't want to hang around to watch that."
Will was taken aback by Thom's derogatory attitude, but Master Si-Cham acted as though he hadn't heard anything, so Will kept his silence.
Thom quizzed Will about his 'other self' as they walked back to his room. It seemed like no matter what Will told him, Thom was never satisfied.
"Alright, if you don't have a secret identity, are you schizophrenic? Is it like having another person in the same body?"
"Yeah, thanks, I do know what schizophrenic means, and no, I'm all me."
"But you're not always the thing with all the power," The thing? thought Will, amused, "It's like a whole other self."
"No," Will answered shortly, "the power is a part of me, an important part of me. But it's often … dormant, I guess you could call it. It's not another person or self, it's just a sense of greater awareness. It's like your mouth or your mind – a piece of you. Just because I'm not always using it, doesn't mean it isn't there."
"But you change!" protested Thom, "Your voice is different, the way you speak!"
"Fundamentally, I'm the same. Maybe the power, when its active or when I'm conscious of it, evokes a certain gravity or seriousness. It's not something I've studied in great detail."
"Huh."
"Look, instead of interrogating me like I'm some kind of criminal, tell me if you've got anything for me to give Alanna." Will told him, feeling much more optimistic about going to Corus and meeting Laughing Nell now.
"Alanna, Alanna…" muttered Thom, "It does so happen I've written a short letter and I managed to scrounge together a present too."
"There's the brother I knew you could be," said Will.
"Yeah, well, tell her I said Happy Birthday."
"Will do."