“Who?”
“My assistant. The young lady you met.”
“Oh. I didn’t really meet her, ma’am. She never introduced herself, but she certainly seemed to know who I am.”
Valera delivered a slight smile. “Yes, well, it’s not every day that a new wizard is discovered, let alone one of such a prestigious House as Kirloth.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘notorious’ or ‘infamous,’ ma’am?”
“It is often the case that the most prestigious families have certain aspects to their history that do not bear scrutiny well, and I daresay your mentor made more of those aspects than most.”
Gavin’s thoughts stopped on Valera’s last sentence. “Ma’am, Marcus told me something just before I came to see you that I’m having trouble believing.”
“I’m not surprised in the least. If I may ask, what was it?”
“He told me he is Kirloth…as in the Kirloth, the one that dueled Milthas during the Godswar.”
When Valera didn’t jump to dissuade Gavin from that, he felt a gaping pit forming in his stomach.
“Yes, Gavin, he is. Your mentor is the man many scholars throughout the last six thousand years have heralded as the greatest wizard of all time. He takes more for granted about the Art than most of us will ever experience or even suspect might be possible.”
Gavin leaned back against his chair and stared at the top of Valera’s desk.
“Were you hoping I would tell you he is not who he claims to be?”
“A little bit,” Gavin said, adding a few slight nods, “yeah.”
“Don’t try relating to him as Kirloth. So much of who Kirloth was or wasn’t is bound up in traditions and history. Learn who he is now, and you may find that man far more approachable.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try. Is there anything else? I’m probably already late for my studies.”
Valera smiled. “No. I think we have discussed all that needs discussion for now.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Gavin stood and left.
Valera looked at the closed door for several moments before she opened the center drawer of the desk. Inside it lay a folded piece of parchment, and she withdrew it, unfolding it to rest atop her desk.
The writing on the parchment was harsh, jerky…as if the writer had been in a bit of a rush. Several places, the ink had dripped or run, but none of blemishes precluded reading the words:
The death of slavers shall herald the return of Kirloth to this world, and the Apprentices shall be drawn unto him.
Valera still remembered the night her first vision in twenty years had awoken her. The images of the vision had passed too quickly for her to retain them, but the words-these words-still resonated within her mind.
Valera stared at the parchment as she considered the new students who would be arriving in less than three weeks. Oh, yes…she knew exactly which students Gavin would mentor.
Chapter 21
Standing between two young men she’d known all her life, Lillian Mivar was the only child of House Mivar. She stood on the taller edge of average height for a woman with a lithe figure and auburn hair that hung to her shoulders in natural curls. Her bright green eyes shone in the morning sun and did nothing to hide her intelligence.
The young man on Lillian’s right was a veritable giant, though not actually a member of that race. Braden Wygoth stood head-and-shoulders over everyone around him-with a stout, muscular physique-but his open, welcoming demeanor made him approachable. His hair was dark, almost raven black like his mother’s, and kept well-trimmed.
Wynn Roshan stood on Lillian’s left, and he was the opposite of Braden. Short and wiry, he exuded a nervous energy. Tapping a foot, snapping fingers…he was always moving. His blonde hair was a touch longer than was normal for men, but Wynn didn’t seem to notice.
Lillian drew comfort from her friends beside her as she scanned the courtyard. There were a great many faces she’d never seen before. As someone who would be Duchess Mivar one day, not to mention being seventeen years old, Lillian knew she shouldn’t have the anxiety that was tying her guts into knots, but she had never been comfortable at the dinner parties her grandfather-the Duke Mivar-hosted, either.
A massive hand enclosed Lillian’s left shoulder, and she felt an oak-tree-sized arm against her back.
“You can do this, Lillian,” Braden said in his deep, rumbling voice. “We’re right here with you.”
“Yep, yep,” Wynn said, his tenor voice seeming to carry his energy with it. “Haven’t-you-always-heard-that-the-Great-Houses-stand-together?” This last came out in a rush; Lillian wasn’t sure Wynn ever took a breath when he started speaking until he completed all of what he wanted to say.
Lillian smiled at the two people she felt closest to in all the world, after her own family. “I wish I had the words to say how grateful I am you’re here with me. This would be much more daunting were I alone.”
“Oh, nonsense, Lillian,” Braden said. “You have a strength in you; all you need do is realize it.”
A group approached, and they turned to find an older lady in white robes approaching with Torval Mivar, Lillian’s grandfather; Sypara Wygoth, Braden’s mother; and Carth Roshan, Wynn’s father. Lillian’s eyes lit up as she realized who the older lady must be.
“Greetings,” the older lady said, “My name is Valera, and I am the Magister of Divination. It is good to see you here, especially together.”
Lillian couldn’t hold it in any longer. She stepped forward and said, “Ma’am, I am Lillian Mivar, and it’s an honor to meet you! I have wanted to specialize in Divination ever since I started planning for the College.”
“That’s very kind of you, Lady Mivar,” Valera said with a respectful nod, “but students cannot choose to specialize until they reach Third Tier. The Society has felt for some time-and I agree-that students should be exposed to everything the Art has to offer before making the decision to specialize, let alone choosing a specific School. Third Tier is quite some distance in your future at this point, and there’s always the chance that something will cause you to change your mind.”
“Don’t be so sure, Valera,” Torval said. “Lillian has spoken of nothing else since she was old enough to start reading my spellbooks.”
Lillian fought her blush at her grandfather’s words. Normally, a new student’s parents would be attending the day’s festivities with the student, but Andrin Mivar-Lillian’s father-was not a wizard. Besides, he much preferred managing the Mivar family’s business interests and serving as his father’s adjutant in managing the Mivar Province. As Lillian was the next true-born wizard of the family, she would inherit the Duchy and leadership of House Mivar, not her father.
For many families as steeped in the Art as House Mivar, a son-especially an only child-would have been ostracized for something that wasn’t the child’s fault. Torval Mivar loved his son as much as any father could, and he had given Andrin the choice of pursuing studies as a mage. Andrin, however, couldn’t bear the thought of being a Mivar arcanist who was not a wizard, and he had chosen instead to assist his father with the civil side of House Mivar’s duties.
Torval Mivar stood just above Valera’s height, and the only hair he possessed was a thick band of curly, white hair that ran from sideburn to sideburn around the back of his head. His weathered skin held every year of his life for all to see, but his eyes sparkled with an energy and zest for life that belied his age. Torval wore green robes with amber runes.
Standing to his right was a man of average height, who possessed ginger hair streaked with gray. Carth Roshan was the eldest of two brothers, his sibling having risen to command the Battle-mages of Tel, and he seemed to possess none of his son’s nervous energy. Amber runes ringed the sleeve cuffs of Carth’s crimson robes.