“Take it, and wear it always. The leather will not break or decay.”
Kiri accepted the new necklace and lifted it over her head to hang around her neck. At first, the amulet rested on the fabric of her dress atop her sternum, but the leather cord began to shrink, drawing the stone up until it rested just below where her collar bones met.
“Gavin isn’t in a position yet to be the threat behind the warning that glyph represents, but you have my word that anyone who dares lay a hand on you will spend what time they have left alive in unimaginable agony.”
“T-The amulet can do that?” Kiri asked.
“No, of course not…but I can.”
Gavin’s eyes never left the old wizard, and something in Marcus’s eyes suggested to Gavin he knew quite a bit about inflicting agony on others.
Kiri gave a faint nod before walking to the door. Just as she grasped the handle to pull open the door, she stopped and turned back to the two wizards, saying, “Gavin, would you mind walking with me?”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit, Kiri.”
The markets surrounding the College of the Arcane were just as busy as the day before.
“Where do all these people come from?” Gavin asked as he and Kiri threaded their way through the crowd.
“Many of them are from right here in Tel Mivar,” Kiri said as they walked. “It’s one of the largest cities in the world, even if you don’t count the fifty acres of the College at the city’s center. There’s also a fair amount of barge traffic on the Vischaene between here and Tel Cothos, so I’m sure that’s also part of it…not to mention wagon convoys from Tel Roshan and Tel Wygoth and many smaller settlements in between.”
“What’s Vushaar like, Kiri?”
“Vushaar is a beautiful country. Nearest the Inner Sea, it’s a land of jungles and rain forests, even though Thartan Province is more like the grasslands and rolling hills of Mivar Province. As you move farther south, the terrain shifts to grasslands and plains, before becoming tundra and snow caps in the deep, deep south. There are places in southern Vushaar where the snow and ice never melt.”
“That does sound beautiful. Which part of Vushaar are you from?”
“I grew up in the capital city. It’s located in a natural basin formed by the northern edge of the Sarnath Hills. It’s right where the jungles and rain forests give way to the grasslands. But my mother was from Thartan Province, and we’d go to her family’s home sometimes. How about you? Where do you call home?”
Gavin shrugged. “I wish I knew. My earliest memory is waking up in an alley, not too long before I found you, and I woke up knowing only my name. I know basic stuff, like two plus two equals four and the new year always starts in the winter.”
Kiri stopped and looked at Gavin, frowning. “No, it doesn’t. Ever since the Godswar, we’ve started our years the day after we won the final battle of the war…in high summer. Each new year starts on the first day of Andoven.”
Now, Gavin frowned. “That’s not right. The new year starts on the first day of…of…” Gavin knew the word he wanted was right on the tip of his tongue. It was right there, but the gray mists that always seemed to be on the edge of his consciousness swirled through his mind. The word was lost to him.
“Damn it!” Gavin said, clenching his hands into fists. “I know this! Why can’t I think of it? I know all kinds of useless information, like water is a polar molecule made up of one atom of oxygen and two atoms of hydrogen. I know the air we breathe isn’t a pure substance; it’s actually a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, and a few other trace elements. Why-by all that’s holy-can’t I remember the name of the first month of the year?”
“Gavin?” Kiri asked, her voice soft.
“Yes, Kiri?”
“That strange word you used…what is an atom?”
Chapter 10
Marcus watched Gavin and Kiri leave the suite, and he couldn’t keep from smiling. It was early yet, almost too early in fact, but he thought those two would work out very well indeed…once Kiri worked through the traumas of the past two years.
Still, there was too much to do to sit there speculating about the future. Marcus levered himself to his feet and went to the library. He retrieved a few pieces of parchment from a drawer and returned to the suite’s main table with a quill and a bottle of ink as well.
He was just about to sit and begin working out his plan for training Gavin when a column of flame that neither burned or radiated heat erupted from the floor on the other side of the table. The column of flame was short-lived and left a purple-robed figure standing in its wake. The cowl of the robe’s hood and the cuffs of its sleeves bore runes embroidered in gold thread, and the new arrival’s face was obscured beneath the hood in impenetrable shadow. All that could be seen were his eyes; they glowed the color of open flame, and the pupils were vertical slits.
Marcus smiled. “Nathrac, it has been too long. How are you?”
“I am well, old friend,” the purple-robed figure said in a voice that resonated against Marcus’s bones. “Forgive my intrusion, but He would speak with you.”
Marcus nodded. There was only one who could use Nathrac as a messenger, and Marcus knew just where to find him. Marcus put the cork stopper back in the ink bottle and stepped back from the table.
“Then, I suppose we shouldn’t keep my former apprentice waiting.”
Nathrac left the suite the same way he arrived, and Marcus strode to the door. He walked the short distance to the Grand Stair, the staircase that went to every floor of the Tower, and started ascending.
The very last landing before the roof access had an arch built into the stone wall-with no door-but it was Marcus’s destination nonetheless. As the old wizard approached the landing, a blue phantom faded into view. Phantoms can take almost any form, ghosts that they are, but this phantom bore the shape of a man. He wore a chain shirt over studded leather armor, with studded leather gauntlets and greaves. A short sword hung on his left side, and he held a halberd in his right hand.
“It has been some time since last thou stood before me, milord. Dost thou require access to thy Citadel?”
“Yes, I do, old friend. My former apprentice desires a word.”
The phantom turned to his left and reached into the wall with his left hand. Marcus felt-much more than heard-a lock release, and the space within the archway began shimmering. The stone blocks within the archway faded away, and the arch became a doorway to a carpeted corridor.
Marcus stepped through the archway, and it vanished behind him. Marcus walked the short distance to the end of the corridor and took a moment to admire the space. Intricate tapestries hung on the walls, and sconces whose flames neither consumed fuel nor radiated heat lit the space.
The Citadel had been Marcus’s first real home in a long, long time, and if Marcus were honest with himself, he missed it a great deal. A part of him wanted to regret leaving it to his successors, but they’d needed a refuge of their own, too.
Marcus took a deep breath and turned to his right. His former apprentice was waiting, and he no longer wished to relive memories of so long ago.
Marcus entered a small sitting room a short distance from where he’d entered the Citadel. It was a comfortable, intimate space, possessing two armchairs near a hearth with a small stand for drinks between them. One chair was already occupied, and its occupant stood as Marcus opened the door.
He looked to be a young man whose hair and Vandyke beard were the color of caramel. He wore gold robes, and the gold wizard’s medallion resting atop his chest was shaped like a dragon’s head. Careful inspection of the dragon-head medallion would reveal the Wygoth Glyph engraved on a scale between the dragon’s eyes.