“-recognize these as heroes of our church. May a feast be held this day in their honor at the Vicariate Palace and throughout the city of Azura.” Jurgen turned to Laedron. “Come, you will walk at my side.”
Laedron followed Jurgen up a staircase to the Grand Vicar’s platform, then out onto the open walkway leading to the palace. A roar of applause came from the thousands gathered on either side of the platform. Jurgen kept the stride slow, the speed of his step in keeping with that of a parade, and when they arrived in the great hall of the Vicariate Palace, nobility from all over the city, perhaps the whole country, judging by the number, were gathered to welcome them. A series of long tables ran the length of the hall, every surface completely obscured by platters of delectable food.
Jurgen led them through the packed room. Like a ship cutting through the waves, Jurgen caused the gathered nobles to make way at their passing. Taking his seat, Jurgen gestured for Laedron and his friends to rest upon the plush chairs.
“The servants will be along shortly with food,” Jurgen said, leaning toward Laedron.
“Congratulations are in order for you.” Laedron gave him a grin. “The consulship deemed you competent to rule it would seem.”
“Not to rule. To serve.”
For the first time in my life, I have faith that the church will do good things. Laedron nodded at the serving woman as she placed a plate in front of him. With Jurgen at the helm, I can’t see them doing anything foolish.
Exchanging smiles with Valyrie, Laedron nibbled at his food. He found it difficult to eat, and his friends apparently felt the same way because they all ate carefully. He felt the constant glare of eyes upon him, the nobles watching every move, every subtle gesture. Now I know why royals look so weary. It’s not out of boredom; it’s to keep anyone from guessing what they might be thinking.
Part of the way through the meal, Laedron detected the sound of music coming from somewhere in the crowd. The tune picked up, and the nobles parted like wheat in the breeze to reveal a band of musicians and dancers.
“For your entertainment, my lords and ladies!” the lute player shouted, strumming.
With his emphatic thrum of the melody, the dancers became animated. Though the waltz was tasteful and elegant, Laedron could tell that his friends were disinterested with the performance. He kept from bursting with laughter when he thought, What do you expect, Marac? We’re fortunate to see dancing at a church function in the first place!
More people joined in with the dancing, but Laedron hesitated when he thought about asking Valyrie to dance. His enjoyment of dancing notwithstanding, Laedron thought it would be better if he didn’t embarrass himself-or her-with blundering around in front of the entirety of high Heraldan society.
* * *
When the party had died down and he didn’t feel as many eyes upon him, Laedron leaned over to Jurgen and said, “Might we ask a favor of you?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“We require transportation to Nessadene. Would you mind asking Master Hale if we could pass on one of his ships?”
“I don’t see him having a problem with such a proposition.” Jurgen gestured for a page and whispered something to boy who came forward.
The page disappeared into the sea of guests. When he returned moments later, he had Demetrius Hale in tow. “Master Hale, Your Holiness.”
“Master Hale,” Jurgen said, “we have need of your services.”
“Whatever Your Holiness commands.” Demetrius dipped his head, his hand over his heart.
“Can you arrange for my friends to travel by one of your ships to Nessadene?”
“Why, yes, Sire. We would have little problem arranging that. When?”
“In the morning, or as soon as you can manage,” Laedron said.
“We have nothing going that way within the week, but we have spare ships.” Demetrius tapped his fingers together, seemingly deep in thought. “The Galerunner. We can make it ready to leave before midday.”
“Would that be acceptable?” Jurgen asked.
Laedron nodded. “Yes, that will do.”
“Then it’s settled.” Jurgen stood, raising his goblet and tapping it with a spoon. Eventually, the room grew silent. “Let us have a toast to our friends before they depart. May their journeys be safe and carry them home to gentler times.”
“Thank you,” Laedron said, standing and taking a sip of his wine. Valyrie and the others rose, as well. “I could live the rest of my life gladly to never see such times as these again.”
Jurgen patted him on the back. “Well said.”
“Only the truth of the matter.” Laedron glanced at his friends, then back at Jurgen. “May the Creator keep you safe.”
* * *
Once he had returned to the Shimmering Dawn headquarters and his friends had split off into their respective rooms, Laedron was alone in his quarters once again. No quiet knock ever came upon his door, and he realized that he would be left by himself. Does she find me repulsive? he wondered.
Might as well get after it, then. Perhaps I can experiment a bit tonight with a new spell. But what kind, and would it work? Am I capable of creating something from nothingness? He licked his lips and stared at the blank sheet of paper.
Taking a lesson from every other invention he’d encountered, Laedron examined his tomes closely and looked for spells that might combine together in a pleasing manner. I want to create something different altogether. Something never considered, at least as far as I know. He scrawled notes, drawing concentric circles out from a common focal point. Then, he drew a line from the center point outward, intersecting his other lines.
I know a spell for every kind of energy, for every offensive purpose. He recalled all of Ismerelda’s teachings in an attempt to compare the things he had learned against new ideas, new possibilities. Then he thought about the attack at the academy and how so many had died in the assault with no way to escape. Escape. A means of avoidance or retreat.
He began writing in his own spellbook. In times of immediate danger, a sorcerer must be prepared for any possibility. Even when a mage finds himself trapped with no obvious means of egress, he must find a way out. Thus, I propose to study such a means by use of magic.
Below the entry, he drew three circles. Then, he scribbled a black dot in the center of each one, and gazed at them for some time. Connecting the dots with a line, he put his head in his hands and considered the shapes.
An idea jumped into his head, and Laedron flipped open the tomes and searched any similar or related spells. With four books laid out before him, he glanced at the pages, then began writing again.
First, the subject must be made incorporeal. The lack of physical substance would make escape far easier. Second, the location to which one escapes must be well known and familiar-and probably nearby. Third, travel between the points should be instantaneous.
He stopped. Instantaneous. Instant travel? From one place to another?
Using a logical flow, he combined words of power of similar spells until he had produced a formulaic representation of the effect he desired. He stood in the center of the room and presented his rod. He focused upon himself and concentrated on the spell, but then, he stopped.
“What in the hells am I doing?” he asked aloud. He had been about to cast a new and unproven spell on himself, with the possibilities unknown and potentially destructive.
Spotting an empty candlestick on his nightstand, he focused on it instead. The candlestick sparkled with energy as he chanted, then it disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, hovering in the air. It plummeted to the floor with the clank of silver against stone. He crouched and examined the candlestick. He found no noticeable differences in it.