A/N: Thanks for the reviews – it's good to know that some people find this interesting, and not just me! Some info on ages: the King is in his forties, Tirelle is thirty-five, and Abhorsen is in his late-twenties, to give you a rough idea. Now we'll find out a little more about Charter magic…
Questions of Power
King Berillan reclined in his chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. Across from him sat Abhorsen, who had elected to move his seat beneath the silken canopy. His pale skin burned easily, and he naturally preferred darker, colder conditions. But the sea was calm today, and so Berillan had challenged the young man to a game of Druque on the sunny deck of the ship.
Abhorsen's white fingers hovered over the Nobleman, then moved to pick up the Fisher. Berillan raised an eyebrow at the unusual move, but made no comment.
"I have a question", Abhorsen said finally, keeping his voice light and conversational.
Berillan had been wondering when the young man would speak. He moved his Soldier three squares. "Ask away", he answered, interlocking his fingers.
Abhorsen's shoulders tensed. "How do you… you know", he said rather weakly, and the King resisted the urge to chuckle. "What I mean to say", the young man persisted, "Is that I've had the power of the Charter in my blood for three moons now. And I still haven't… I am not yet…"
"You are not quite accustomed to it?" King Berillan suggested and the other man nodded, looking down at his hands. The King leaned forward, forcing Abhorsen to meet his gaze. "It has been many years since the Bright Shiner Dyrim poured all of her power into my grandsire's blood", he said gently. "It has been diluted by generations, but is still extraordinarily strong. I can only imagine what it must feel like to you, with all of the strength of a Shining One forced into a single person."
"I am… afraid of it", the young man murmured, as if anxious not to be overheard. "I am ignorant of the limits to my power, yet I fear to test it." In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, Abhorsen picked up his Mage and moved it one square over. It was a bad move.
"Perhaps you will never need to test your limits", the King replied softly, trying to calm the young necromancer. "Saraneth was one of the most powerful of the Seven. You will never struggle to perform even the most demanding of Charter spells. Yet it is always a good idea to know the full extent of your abilities." He lowered his gaze to the Druque board, giving the young man some privacy.
Abhorsen glanced to either side before lowering his voice. "It is not only that", he whispered. "I find that – that I can still use Free Magic."
King Berillan was shocked into silence, and could only stare at the younger man. Finally, he gathered his wits. "You mean that you are able to use Free Magic and still access the Charter?" he asked, astonished. Abhorsen nodded. The King sat back in his chair, his strength having left him all at once. "Impossible", he breathed to himself. "You must be the only Charter Mage who can do that."
"I am", Abhorsen confirmed miserably. "But – but you have no idea what it is like! On the one hand there's the Charter – warm, bright, beautiful – yet complex. And on the other, there's the straightforward, fierce power of Free Magic, tainted and consuming. Every time I reach into the Charter, there is the other choice hanging within my reach, tempting me."
"You resist it?" Berillan asked, a little sharper than he intended.
The young man gave a vehement nod. "I have, so far. It is difficult, due to my years as a necromancer. But the power of the Charter is strong enough to keep me from turning back to Free Magic. I do not worry about losing myself to it."
King Berillan frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You worry about your descendants", he intuited.
Abhorsen gave a tight smile. "Dyrim and Saraneth wished for their power to be passed on through blood, and you yourself observed that the strength of the Charter slowly thins with each generation. How can an Abhorsen banish the Dead once his inherent power is relatively weak, and Free Magic awaits him at every decision?"
The King stared at the younger man, frankly surprised by his insightful words. Apparently there was more to Gabriel Abhorsen than many gave him credit for. "Well", he answered finally, "You will just have to trust in the strength of your children." He bent forward, and his Soldier took Abhorsen's Fort. "My game."
The young man stared down at the board, and scowled. Berillan laughed and arose, beckoning for Abhorsen to follow him. They walked to the starboard railing and the King motioned at the shore. "The Ratterlin Delta", he proclaimed. "We are getting closer."
A sudden bang caused them to turn in time to see Tirelle stalk onto the deck, obviously in a bad mood. She caught sight of the two men and strode purposefully over to them. Berillan felt Abhorsen cringe, and wished that he could do the same – but Kings did not cower at the approach of their Clayr. Even if she was Tirelle.
"Have we arrived yet?" the Seer demanded, green eyes blazing like witchfire. She was a rather small woman, and yet had the power to reduce the largest man to a quivering ball of fear. Berillan knew; he had seen it happen.
The King refrained from pointing out that they were still sailing and, as such, had not yet reached at their destination. "We are nearly there, Lady Tirelle", he answered courteously. He found it always worked to be gentle with this Clayr. "Horses await us onshore just south of the delta."
The blond woman made a face. "Horses?" she repeated.
"What, you don't like to ride?" enquired Abhorsen, his voice deceptively innocent. But he hastily ducked his head when the Clayr turned to glower at him. Berillan watched the two of them fondly. They were the only people besides his family who did not treat him like a King, and he found it most refreshing. Never mind that one of them could scare him half out of his wits and the other contained enough Charter Magic to obliterate Belisaere.
They were drawing closer to the shore, and an uncomfortable silence had fallen between them. The King caught Abhorsen's eye, and the young man took the hint. "So, Lady Tirelle", he began awkwardly, "How are your daughters?"
The Seer jerked her head in surprise, but recovered her composure admirably. "They are well", she answered. "And your wife?"
"I'm not married", Abhorsen mumbled crossly. King Berillan had to work hard to suppress his smile – this was a frequent point of dispute, for who would wed a man who banished the Dead for a living? "You were never married either", the young man remarked, and Berillan resisted the urge to smack Abhorsen upside the head.
"That is correct", said the Clayr testily, warning clear in her voice.
Any intelligent man would have changed the subject, but then King Berillan had never numbered Gabriel among the most intelligent in his employ. Also, the young man was still smarting from the allusion to his being a bachelor. "But you still have children", Abhorsen pressed, apparently intent on being murdered within the next ten minutes. "How many do you have now, Lady? Last time I was at Belisaere, you were graced with four little girls."
"I have six daughters now", the woman growled. It was a well-known controversy within court that the unmarried Lady Tirelle had mothered so many children, and all by different fathers.
King Berillan decided to step in before one of the young people threw caution to the winds and slew the other. "We are approaching the shore", he remarked mildly, and noted with amusement the abashed looks on their faces at having been caught quarrelling. "Let's gather our things and meet back here on deck."
Tirelle turned and flounced off, and Berillan pulled Abhorsen aside. "Whatever you do, do not tease the Clayr", he whispered furtively.
The young man scoffed. "I am not afraid of her" he declared, lying through his teeth.
"You should be", warned the King. "Lady Tirelle holds everyone's fate in her hands. Suppose she claimed that she had Seen me ordering your execution? What then?"
Abhorsen gulped. "Ah", he said weakly. "Point taken."
The King smiled. "Be nice to her", he said, feeling as though he was lecturing a child.
The young man nodded sullenly. "Oh, I'll be nice." As he sauntered off, King Berillan couldn't help but wonder whether or not the Abhorsen was being sarcastic.
A/N: Tirelle was born in a northern village close to what will become the Clayr's Glacier, so she's accustomed to travel by skis and sledge, not horseback! Her fellow villagers recognized her gift of Sight and sent her to Belisaere, where she was chosen among many to succeed the previous Clayr. Reviews, as always, are welcome!