Chapter 2: Flight

"Master Lindhall, so good of you to join us." Ozorne's voice rang clearly around the lofty chamber. Lindhall inclined his head respectfully but remained silent, the emperor was ignoring him now anyway. All of his attention, all of his malice was focused upon Arram who stood rather calmly next to his master. "Arram Draper…" the emperor hissed his voice snake like, "Will you not bow before your emperor?"

Arram's eye's narrowed but he executed a short, perfunctory bow.

"You know why you are here of course."

"No," his enemy replied placidly. "Well not in the strictest sense. I know of course that I am to be banished. Why, though, remains a mystery. I assume you intend to enlighten me."

"Don't be a fool Arram," Ozorne snapped.

"But that's the problem isn't it?" his former friend replied. "Had I adopted the guise of a fool perhaps I could've remained in Carthak."

The emperor smiled his serpent grin. "Oh it's so much worse than that. Step forward Staghorn."

Arram's face remained motionless. Everything was so predictable; it was almost disappointing.

A man detached himself from the crowds of people hovering in anticipation around the throne room and came to stand next to the master and his pupil. He and Arram exchanged a dark look before he turned back towards his emperor and bowed formally.

"Master Tristan Staghorn, please relate to the court a truthful account of your discoveries relating to the man next to you." Ozorne reclined regally into his throne in satisfaction as Staghorn started to speak.

"Firstly I have to apologise to Arram," he turned to lay a comforting hand on the other man's arm but Arram flinched away.

"Don't bother Tristan," he broke in coldly. "We've never been friends and I see no reason to change that, especially not at the moment you betray me."

Staghorn shifted uneasily and his hazel eyes flicked to the emperor uncertainly. "I know we may have had our differences in the past…"

Arram snorted. "Differences? You drugged my wine and almost made me miss my final black robe examination."

"That was a long time ago…"

"It was last month." Arram interrupted dark eyes as hard as agates. "Just get on with it."

"Yes please do," the emperor ordered, his voice bored.

"Whatever you majesty commands," Tristan replied reclaiming his dignity. "My emperor, my lords and ladies, it has been my unfortunate duty to appear before you today to speak of a subject that appals me." He paused. "It was brought to my attention that the mage known as Arram Draper has been consorting with nobles from across the sea. To what end, I cannot tell you, but I may inform you that all evidence points towards acts of treason. My sources all suggest that Tortall has been supplied with information they could not have acquired without inside help." His voice rose, growing louder to ensure that all occupants of the room caught his next words.

"In short I would accuse Arram Draper of being a deceitful worm; of leaking information to our Tortallan adversaries. Of being a traitor."

The silence was complete.

Arram stifled a gasp. He knew, as did everyone else in the room, that treason was punished, not with banishment but with death.

"You're just going to kill me off then?"

Ozorne raised a finely golden eyebrow. "You've betrayed the throne Master Draper. It is not our will, but that of the state."

Arram tried unsuccessfully not to glare as he growled, "You control the laws of the state, Ozorne."

"His majesty," the guard stationed behind Arram commented. The sword's butt caught him around the face knocking him from his feet and onto his knees.

"I apologise your majesty" he spat from his new position on the floor.

"Enough!" The emperor cried rising to his feet. "Arram Draper can you deny that you have had any contact with any member of the Tortallan government on business not arranged by this court?"

Arram looked up, a trickle of blood running from one eyebrow. "I have not."

"Lying?" Ozorne smirked, a cruel smile dancing on his lips. "How droll. It was of course anticipated and I took the liberty of dousing last nights wine with a truth serum. It should take effect any moment now.

He smiled again as he asked: "Have you consorted with the nobles of Tortall?"

"I have not." He struggled back to his feet.

The smile wavered but was quickly replaced. "Have you betrayed the state of Carthak?"

"No."

"You lie!" Ozorne fumed. Both of them were shouting now.

"I'm not! Don't you even trust your own gift?"

With dark pleasure he watched the emperor squirm. Two choices lay before him, neither acceptable. On the one had he could admit Arram's innocence; on the other admit his talent was flawed.

"Your majesty allow me to intervene," Tristan injected smoothly. "As we all know Draper may be a deceiver and a traitor but he has a rare amount of power at his hands. He has obviously used his gift to subvert the potion." His voice was soothing as he lied to the assembly. "Perhaps I could suggest a different test."

He turned back to Arram and winked at him. "Trial by combat."

Lindhall's warning echoed in the vaults of his memory:

"Don't let him draw you into a magical duel. You aren't strong enough."

"Don't worry Lindhall. I'm not a fool."

"Really? Sometimes I worry."

To accept meant to lose everything. To decline, to admit his guilt.

"I…that is…" he stammered, uncertainly.

"Scared Draper?" the other mage challenged.

Yes.

It was time.

"There will be a time when I will accept your challenge Master Staghorn," he declared softly, "but not today." He turned quickly to look at Lindhall. "Goodbye," he whispered.

From his gleaming throne Ozorne watched him fall.

"No," he gasped.

Lindhall watched his apprentice's collapse and flew to his side.

"Arram?" he asked earnestly, kneeling at his friend's side. But there was no reply.

He was roughly hauled to his feet and found himself, facing a furious emperor. "You knew!" he accused.

"I knew nothing," Lindhall replied calmly. "Use any device you wish. This is as much of a shock to you as it is to me. Although I must admit I suspected he might try something."

His eyes still strayed to the inanimate form.

"Something this dramatic though…" his voice trailed off.

* * *

The sounds of Ozorne's displeasure followed him as Lindhall made his way back up to his study; the sounds of the university's students waking up impeding only slightly.

"Open up dolt," he called softly as the door swung open obediently.

He looked around the cluttered workrooms. Empty. Exhausted he sank into a chair, resting his head gently in his hands. You knew it would come to this. His hand slammed down onto the table; it was all so stupid. The ancient wood vibrated under his fist and the pile of books finally lost their battle with gravity and fell around him. Slowly he picked them up.

His book on mammal anatomy lay open. On its corn coloured pages lay a rather crumpled piece of parchment, addressed in flowing script to Master Lindhall Reed. His heart heavy he broke the seal and read.

Dear Lindhall,

If you are reading this then, as I feared, things have come to the worst and I have been forced to flee Carthak. As you know I had always suspected something like this would happen as soon as Ozorne ascended the throne. The sense of betrayal remains the same.

I cannot thank you enough for your help over the last few weeks with my simulacrum, although of course you will not remember it. I took the precaution of erasing you memories of your involvement in all this but be assured you were an invaluable asset.

Hopefully I am now somewhere over the Great Inland Sea and if the winds remain fair I shall land on the south coast of Tortall sometime tomorrow.

I will always treasure my time with you.

I remain, as always, your affectionate student,

Numair Salmalin.