37
Chapter 37: In Which Problems Pile High
The hammering at the door was loud enough to wake the dead. As it was, the Grand Master wasn't even asleep, so a simple knock would have been sufficient. He felt weary beyond measure, but who could sleep when the world was about to end? Everything was falling apart, and Marning could not find the glue that would put things back in order.
He rose to answer the door, but it burst open before he could reach it. Burgen Winterstarch, who had the ability to look refreshed at every hour, was properly ruffled up, his clothes disheveled, his hair so tousled it had become a mane of fluffy golden curls that stood like a mound of dandelions on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot and there were deep baggy shadows underneath them. "Grand...Master," he panted, shoving forward a scroll that he held tightly in his fist. "This is absurd!"
"Which part of this is absurd?" Marning asked, trying to take the scroll from him but Burgen pulled his hand away.
"Why didn't it work?" Burgen demanded. "The spell of making should have worked, I've looked through every single script that ever mentioned that dagger and they each point out the condition. But there's only one condition and there's no argument – they're in unanimous agreement about what it is!"
"Ah." The Grand Master laid his hand across his forehead and sighed. He had allowed himself to forget about that problem, because, while it certainly served to be a big problem, it was rather unfortunate for everyone that there were troubles even bigger than that at hand. "Yes, that is very curious."
"Curious?" asked Burgen, "Curious? There can be only one King's Magician at a time, and only when that one dies there can be the next. You knew this condition all along. How then could you be so calm?"
"You mistake calmness with despair, my boy," the Grand Master said. "Perhaps with this curse upon us there are new conditions we are unaware of."
"Good gods." Burgen shook his head and began pacing back and forth, holding the scroll between both his hands. "I've tried to understand, I tried to figure it out, perhaps the King had nominated a King's Magician behind our backs – but then, he looked dreadfully surprised yesterday and his acting skills have never been up to par –And then there's the chance – there's the possibility that – " Burgen paused, pursing his lips together. "Could you have been wrong, Grand Master?"
"Anything is possible," Marning replied, "however, I doubt I was wrong about that."
"But he was the greatest magician in the world!" exclaimed the young man, flinging the scroll at the Grand Master. "Maybe he found a way to trick even you."
The Grand Master flattened the slightly crumpled scroll, scanning the letters. It was enough to simply read the title to understand what Burgen was thinking, but he pored over the sentences and over entire paragraphs until he finally looked up. "He would never," he hissed, "do such a thing."
"Did you really know him that well?" Burgen asked. "I heard that after the King married Varemini, he lost it."
"I won't contradict you, Winterstarch," the Grand Master said with a sigh. "That issue deeply affected him in ways even I couldn't see. But I can assure you that the sacrifice that this spell requires – the lifeblood of a child with no Wielder powers – would prevent him from carrying it out, he would never commit such an odious crime."
"But look what he was willing to do with this -" Winterstarch stopped speaking abruptly probably due to the Grand Master's glare. "Maybe he found a different way, Grand Master," he said instead.
"Maybe," Marning said curtly.
"You're trying to convince yourself. Why can't you accept it? Cooper is alive."
"Only time could prove you right or wrong. I have already accepted his death. I will not accept a different truth unless it presents itself before me."
***
He needed time to deliberate over and research their situation. Yet, while the Grand Master tried to will time to pass slowly, the days fell away like sand between his fingers, summer changed to winter, and soon enough, the green edges of spring appeared in Auranora.
As is always with the difficult problems, there were no simple solutions at hand, especially when it came to matters as mysterious as the Wielder's Taboo. Every man or woman born with the ability to Wield was also born with the instinct of finding other Wielders unattractive as partners, even repugnant. It was this instinct that had protected the entire world against the Wielder's taboo. There had been instances, strange circumstances, in which both sides found the other's unattractiveness irresistible, yet thankfully those peculiar couplings had never ended in conception. Throughout history, there were only a handful of such cases in which supposedly a child was born to two Wielders, but those were so far back and poorly recorded that there was very little known about the nature of the curse. The stories tended to be exaggerated and inconsistent, as is often found in ancient historical narratives. A common thread that held all the stories together was that the curse, whatever course it took, appeared in the form of an infant and had brought about the destruction of entire kingdoms.
"What we need is to find an instance of almost. We need to find when a child was born yet the curse's outcome was prevented," announced Changling magician Lupkin Starcy in that self-important voice he always used when in the presence of other magicians.
"It would be better if we used our time to find a present-day solution," Shadow Magician Gregory Hye said coldly.
"There is one thing that troubles me," Movement Magician Heltor Gruve said.
"Just one?" interrupted Starcy.
"One in particular," replied Gruve. "If there has already been a child born, why isn't the curse upon us? Is it possible that it is all a myth?"
"The curse is already upon us," interjected the Grand Magic Master Marning. "It grows with every day that passes, as does the child."
"What makes you so certain, Wenward?" asked Gruve, always the one to speculate. "Just because you have felt ill at ease in the child's presence?"
"I am worse than ill at ease; I have been feverish for nearly two weeks. The Wielders at the palace are falling ill," Marning explained, "this plague comes in the form of a low and persistent fever that weakens the mind and body. Those afflicted are still able to Wield, though the magic is behaving strangely, taking on a mind of its own so to speak. The symptoms are known to increase with excessive Wielding of magic."
"How many Wielders have been afflicted?" asked Hye.
"It began with just a handful that came to me with these symptoms, but now it seems that the only ones who have not fallen ill yet are a handful of women Wielders and my younger apprentice. I have now also received reports about the disease spreading to the city proper." The Grand Master shook his head, "That is why I have assembled this council, gentlemen. What is to be done in the matter of the Tournament?"
"A great number of our guests have already arrived, Grand Master," said the young Lord Erethill Yunalen, a prodigy in the field of scrying. "To cancel the Tournament now after our guests have had to endure the expenses of travel will surely jeopardise our diplomatic reputation."
"And if the greatest Wielders in the world fall ill and die in the boundaries of our Kingdom our situation will not be any better," Hye pointed out.
"I see you are all aware of the diplomatic dilemma," Marning said. "One option is worse than the other. However, cancelling the Tournament at least will not directly risk lives. Therefore I believe that that is the only choice we have."
"It is not a choice we have," Zarvin Mur Logge, specialist in Diplomatic Magicks, spoke up then. "The Tournament is only a month away. At this stage, we cannot appeal to cancel it. The Tournament Council is very strict in the matter."
"That's absurd!" Starcy exclaimed. "I am certain that if the problem were known to them, they wouldn't hesitate to cancel."
"They will require proof, and that is something that we cannot provide," Mur Logge replied. "At this point, any appeal to cancel the Tournament would be seen first and foremost as a ploy on our behalf to spare us having to display inadequate magical skills. The council is aware of Cooper's death and the fact that we have entered only five war magicians into the War Magic category and among them, the only one who fits the bill of War magician is a thirteen year old boy with a funny name and bad manners."
Marning grimaced. "They know all that?"
"Particularly the part about bad manners," Mur Logge said dryly.
"Scrying hasn't worked?" Starcy asked.
Yumalen shook his head sadly. "There is nothing to indicate the curse. The only thing that suggests that it is coming our way is how empty the future looks. I am afraid that I am in agreement with Mur Logge. In the Council's eyes, neither a cursed child nor scrying into the future would justify cancelling the Tournament."
"We should remove the child from the city," Hye proposed. "Take it to the farthest reaches of the Kingdom and deal with the problem after the Tournament."
"We ought to prepare Lines of Flight and get the trains and steam-boats ready for evacuation if it be necessary," suggested Starcy.
"And most important of all," added Gruve, "we must keep this secret, especially from the King."
All the magicians in the room loudly voiced their agreement to the last suggestion. "If the King were to know," said Mur Logge, shaking his head, "now that would be a real disaster."
"We need to make plans for his safety in any event," the Grand Master said and turned toward the silent Burgen at his side. The young man raised his blue eyes to meet his teacher's gaze. He was not in the best condition; in the past few days the fever had overtaken him as well. "Go ahead to the palace and arrange a private audience with the prince concerning the placement of the child, then return to your training."
"Yes, Grand Master." Burgen rose, bowed at the council present and vanished into a ray of early spring sunlight.
"Wenward," said Starcy, "why isn't he King's Magician, that boy, what happened?"
Marning raised his eyes to the heavens, before addressing the assembled council with a weary smile. "That, gentlemen, is another matter I wished to discuss with you."
***
"Wenvard!" a booming voice called as a tall lumbering middle-aged man with wild tufts of grey hair strode into the Grand Master's study. Marning rose to his feet with a smile.
"Luker." He greeted his old friend, head of the magical council of the Kingdom of Majarist.
"Venward!" Luker exclaimed, "last time I saw you, you were ..." he paused, his face growing serious. "Well, you looked younger."
Marning prevented himself from sighing. In Majarist people always called one another by their first names, and while the languages of both countries were quite similar, Luker somehow could never get Marning's first name right. "I was younger last time we met," the Grand Master pointed out. "But you look the same."
"Ah, well, of course I heard about..." Luker waved his arm, "It was a terrible loss, Venver, we were all so dismayed to hear about it. Such a tragic thing, really. He was an inspiring young man and he could have accomplished grand things if his young life was not cut short at its prime. I always enjoyed our conversa – "
Thankfully, just when Marning felt a brand new headache approaching, someone standing behind Luker cleared his throat to get their attention. Luker turned, revealing Shwort. "I am sorry to interrupt," he said, "but the prince needs to see you at once to discuss the matter of the ceremony."
For a very short moment, Luker's presence had provided a distraction from the crisis they were in. Marning felt his spine tense at this summons. The prince had only left that morning to deposit the child in a safe house on the far east of the Kingdom. How could he be back already?
"Ah, the ceremony, aha, of course the opening ceremony of the Tournament." The Grand Master wore a painted expression when he looked at Luker. "If you will excuse me, friend, I must urgently attend to this matter. It is good of you to drop by and visit a sad old man like me. Let us resume our discussion at a later date."
"Of course! Of course, Vineyard!" Luker looked flustered. Marning politely bowed his head at him before he hurried out of his study with his stomach turning and his head swimming.
***
The room was dark, the curtains drawn shut over the windows, yet Prince Joaquin stood facing them as if he were staring outside. He did not turn around when Marning entered the room.
"Did you succeed in the task?" the Grand Master asked.
Still with his back to him, the prince shook his head.
"What happened?" Marning pressed his fingers to his temples, how were they going to solve this?
"Why is this happening?" Joaquin asked in a muted whisper. "I know you say he is a curse, and what happened today – perhaps that proves it – but, I still, I can't – he's just a baby boy, like any baby boy. He is the creation of a man and a woman, he was born out of his mother's womb like everyone, he laughs and he weeps as any human does. He is a sweet child with a pure heart. Already he suffers isolation and loneliness, yet his only crime is that he was born."
"What happened?" Marning repeated his voice patient. He could not afford to show sympathy. A curse did not have a sense of justice; it made people both innocent of crime and guilty suffer. That was what made it a curse. It was unpredictable, uncontrollable. Once the path of a curse was started, it would take its course however it would.
The prince sighed and then began telling the tale of that morning in a hollow tone. "I rode out as planned to the eastern gate with some of my dogs and some of my men, the child hidden in a basket. It was a hunting party for all to see. The guards saluted us as we passed through the gate. And then suddenly I found myself with the babe riding into the city and not out. I looked behind me to find my men waiting for me outside the gate, confused. I tried to exit through the gate once more, and once again I found myself riding in, instead of out.
"I saw that it would be futile to attempt the eastern gate once more, so I called my men and we rode to the coast gate. Again I tried to leave the city, and once more I could not. I thought that perhaps the trouble was with the gates, so I headed to the south, where the city houses spill onto the fields. At first I thought that I succeeded to fool this strange spell. I galloped across the fields, cutting straight toward the Ebb Road that skirts the city until it meets the King's Way, but just as my horse's hooves were about to graze the mossy road, the world around me shifted once more and I was headed toward the fields with the road at my back."
Joaquin fell silent. The Grand Master said nothing as he allowed himself to sit on one of the luxurious couches in the prince's audience chamber. He shook his head; they should have realised that it wouldn't be that simple.
Finally, the prince spoke again, "I did not bring him back to the palace."
"Oh?" Marning couldn't prevent himself from hoping that there was more to the story.
"I was afraid that if he continued to stay at the palace, Angelique would die," the prince explained. "She is still so weak. She seems to be unable to recover. I wish there was a way to send her away, but she is too weak even for travel."
"So where is he now?"
"I created a safe house for Erich, near the southern border of the city. It's the farthest point from the palace as well as from the Tournament village. I posted my most trusted men to guard him, and Angelique's aunt is there to care for his needs." His voice sounded choked. It was inevitable that the prince would grow attached to the child; Joaquin had always been gentle-hearted. The reason that he would not turn to face him, Marning realised, was because the Crown prince was crying over the fate of his adopted son, the nephew of his deceased lover.
It was better this way, best that even a cursed child would have someone to mourn him.
Marning rose to his feet and placed his hand on the prince's shoulder. Joaquin stiffened. His mother was dead and he had never received a good word from his father the King. "You did well. The best anyone could have done," the Grand Master reassured him.
Joaquin hung his head. Not for the first time, Marning wondered which was worse for a kingdom: a cold-blooded king, or a soft-hearted one?
Perhaps they would never know, he thought with a pang, because as things stood, their Kingdom had no future. "Look after your young wife," he said before leaving.
Be strong, prince, we have no choice but to cling to empty hope.
A/N - Is Cooper really alive? And here there's this diplomatic absurdity that leaves Auranora unable to cancel the Tournament. On the one hand, the curse is dangerous to all Wielders, and on the other hand, due to Cooper's death, any attempt to cancel will be seen as a ploy.
Last but not least, I wanted to give room to Erich's tragedy. You thought Rat had it bad? Erich is only two and a half, but he's being shut off from the world, separated from his mother and the prince (whom he calls father) with only his aunt for company. What will become of him? Is he truly a curse? Is the curse the child... or is it something else that came into the world along with him?
We're on the last stretch people! (24k words left!) Next chapter is the Tournament, and there will be lots and lots of action. This is basically where the story catches you and beats you against the rocks. I will be posting 2-3 times a week like usual, GOOD LUCK TO YOU, MY DEAR AND LOVELY READERS YOU ARE ALL AMAZING AND AWESOME AND I FEEL SO LUCKY TO BE ABLE TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU!
(In case you hadn't noticed, I've very, very excited!)
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