Farm-Boys-Turned-Acolytes are Useful, Except When They're a Nuisance
Chapter Fifteen
Welcome to The Children of Una series. Here’s a handy index of the published chapters.
In the last chapter, Lewison divulged to Danen the unusual nature of his magic. He admitted he didn’t understand why his nephew was different and wished the Elves hadn’t found out. To Danen’s surprise, his uncle even implied that he was going to make Danen his successor.
The next morning, the High Mage emerged from his cabin just after sunrise with his acolytes preceding him. Both boys had been freshly washed, shaved, and wore the plain grey robe of their station. Lord Coblaine’s own satin belt and embroidered stole, tinkling with silver bells and sewn-on amulets, marked his station. His oiled and braided beard and tied-back hair gave him a martial air that only accentuated how tall and formidable a man he truly was.
When the three of them entered the dining hall and seated themselves next to the Elven healers, the Cook sent the ship’s boy to serve them with a towel over his arm, instead of making them line up among the sailors for their eggs and bacon. Lord Coblaine ordered the boy to bring a pitcher of the ship’s best beer, and then he poured cups for himself and his acolytes. The Elves declined.
Danen had been given two instructions which would remain in effect until further notice — he was to do no spell-craft, and to avoid offering up information. When he’d asked how he was supposed to know whether what he wanted to say was new information or not, Lewison had glared down his nose at him and modified his second instruction to ban Danen speaking altogether.
“But what if someone asks me a question?”
“Pretend you’re dumb,” Aster helpfully suggested. “I had a cousin who did that at dances. Not because he hates girls or anything. He just can’t dance.”
Now, Danen focused on emptying the hearty porridge he’d found in the bowl under his eggs and bacon, while his uncle parried and returned the Elf healer’s curiosity.
“You don’t have any idea when the soul curse was placed on you, then? No enemies or rivals? Did anyone send you a gift, or make an unexpected visit, in recent months?” Dimavure pressed the High Mage.
Both Elves were on their back foot, being so far below Lewison in status, and yet bearing genuine concern for his well-being after discovering him incapacitated the previous day. He was, after all, supposed to be the most powerful force of magic in the Human kingdom.
“I am not well-versed in soul curses,” Lewison said. “It was my understanding that all magic regarding souls is restricted for Human use. It would be a rare foe, indeed, who was knowledgeable of such things, an even more exceptional one who was capable of enacting the curse without detection.”
“Such expertise would be uncommon even among Elven mages,” Dimavure admitted.
The Elves shared a long look before Dimavure nodded imperceptibly to his companion. Lewison, sipping his beer, watched their nonverbal communication. Before either could speak, he cleared his throat.
“There is one thing that happened very recently which was unprecedented in almost all of my time serving as the High Mage — the separation of myself and a certain member of the King’s household.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that the sort of thing which could anchor a soul curse?”
Dimavure tisked. “Anchor, you say? You use precise language for someone who has no knowledge of restricted spells.”
The High Mage set down his beer and steepled his fingers over his empty bowl. “I do not recall stating I possessed no knowledge. As the High Mage, it’s my prerogative to educate myself about everything related to magic, even things in which I do not allow my subordinates to dabble. I merely have no personal experience with such spell casting.”
Wellenon cleared his throat. “Then it is time for us to speak plainly, as well, my Lord. I’m not merely a water-rider, as you may have guessed. There are few Elves with the Soul affinity, but I am one. The Council sent me to examine your nephew in secret, because of the incident that occurred yesterday afternoon.” Wellenon inclined his head to Danen. “I beg your pardon, but I was instructed to do so without your knowledge or permission, young man. As things turned out, it was fortunate for your Uncle I was present to assist Dimavure in removing the soul curse.”
“For which you have my thanks,” Lewison said, before Danen could reply. “Were you able to determine where the curse came from?”
Wellenon nodded. “My abilities enabled me to detect the nature of the curse, as well as pinpoint its source.”
“Then you already possess answers to the questions you’ve been asking?” Lewison smirked, as though to say Elves!
“We only wished to determine whether you were aware of your enemies and their movements against you, my lord.” Wellenon admitted in plain discomfort.
Lewison laughed. “Do not let it trouble you, Wellenon! I am accustomed to Elven didactics. I take no offense, on my word. I’m also greatly indebted to you both, and will not soon forget it. Please, let us speak frankly. I’ve known for some time that my role as High Mage put me in direct opposition to the ambitions of a certain member of my family who will remain unnamed at this table. Further, I’ve long known that a certain member of my retinue was acting as a spy for that person, as well as an annoying encumbrance to many of my own endeavors. It is only marginally more appalling to discover this hanger-on, whether with his knowledge or without it, was also acting as an anchor for my enemies to place a curse upon me.”
“Now that you have been separated and the curse brought to light, what action do you expect your enemies to take?” Dimavure asked in an undertone. His eyes scanned those sitting at their meal behind the High Mage.
“That depends greatly on which enemy placed the curse. A High Mage never has a shortage of them. You will be able to determine that, better than I, Wellenon. What source did you perceive?”
Wellenon swallowed hard, his gaze falling to his folded hands. “It was placed by an Elf, though not one familiar to me.”
Lewison’s jaw muscles bunched for a moment, then he gritted out his observation. “I imagine that narrows the field of suspects considerably. How old are you, if I may ask?”
Wellenon flushed. “I am young enough that most of the Elves you have met in your years of service were either my mentors and teachers or my parent’s friends.”
“We are looking for an Elf unknown to you, most likely of an age with you and Dimavure here, who also has some connection with me, enough to move so aggressively against me as to place a curse upon my soul . . .” Lewison mused.
“Actually — a small, technical difference — the curse was attached to your root.”
The Elves sat straighter as all the color drained from the High Mage’s face. Aster and Danen exchanged concerned looks across the table. Then Aster saw an idea sparking in his friend’s eyes, but the farm boy’s warning frown was ignored. Neither did Danen heed the Elsyncria’s bright yellow light. His hands balled into fists on the tabletop as his voice raised. “What does that mean? Who dared curse you, Uncle?!”
With a dark grimace, Lewison raised his hand and smacked it down over Danen’s thick hair. The boy’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward over the table, Dimavure snatching his half-drunk beer out of the way before he knocked it over. All three of the others stared at Lewison in horror until a quiet snore escaped from Danen’s lips. Aster’s shoulders dropped in relief.
It would’ve been an exercise in futility to make Danen understand that this topic was extremely personal. The difference between a Human’s soul — the seat of their emotions and willpower — and a Human’s root — the heart, or essence, of who they are — was already a highly technical, much-debated branch of magical study. Perhaps only Lewison himself could comprehend the full implications of someone knowing him intimately enough to place a curse on his very being.
The Elves returned to the topic at hand.
“I judge by your expression that the identity of the caster has become plain to you, Lord Coblaine. Their existence is troubling, as is the fact of their success. If there’s anything we can do to assist you, we remain at your service.”
Dimavure and Wellenon stood in unison, offered the High Mage a respectful bow, and then left the dining room. Their departure diminished the interest of the sailors eating at the other tables, an interest that had only been stoked by Danen’s sudden outburst. Aster had already finished his food and quietly stood to clear their dishes. Lewison tousled Danen’s hair. He shook his head in resigned acceptance.
When Aster returned and poured the High Mage more beer, Lewison reached up to lay a hand on the farm boy’s head too. He sighed, wordlessly sending aloft a prayer for their safety and good sense. Then he got up with his beer and left the dining room.
“Carry him to the cabin, would you?” he called back to Aster.
Aster watched his mentor go, and then stood over Danen. A sinking feeling had been creeping upon him over the past day. Maybe it was his experience as a boy with younger brothers. “You’re going to be a pain to look after, aren’t you? For some reason, I feel like that job might fall to me more often than not.”
He bent his shoulder under Danen. “Oh, well.”
Aster carried his willowy friend across the ship’s deck like he weighed no more than an oversized coat. When they were on the road, Lewison had told him it was useful to have someone around who was used to doing manual labor. He’d assumed the High Mage was appreciating his care of their horses. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe the High Mage had had this kind of ‘help’ in mind for Aster all along.
Dear Reader,
Who do you suppose might have cursed Lewison? He's just realized who it was, and I'm sorry to say he's not as surprised as he's saddened by the news. In the last chapter, he told Danen he intends to make him his successor. Let's hope Danen has an easier time of it than Lewison has (Hint … he won't).
Cheers~
LL