"My boots are too small now, my lady. Nothing important." At least for now.

"I'm amazed you managed to grow on such short rations," she replied. "As for the others, I had to go quite deep into young Marysa's mind because she was in contact with another mage much of the time you were there. A pity her mother watched her so closely. Your father would be pleased with a grandchild, though you're a little young for such affairs."

"It was her choice," Tam said, knowing that nothing would have stopped Marysa if she'd really wanted him.

"And you did well to respect it," his aunt said. "You may have some questions about the girl, which I can now answer."

Tameron wanted to crawl under a chair from embarrassment when he heard that, especially with the commander standing nearby. "No!" he said. "I don't want to know anything!"

"As you wish," the Guardian said with a sigh. "Yet there have always been men and women who don't wait till Festival. If it's any consolation, she never gave herself for money. In fact, Tigran was angry because she hated him no matter what he made her do."

He covered his face in pain. Why was his aunt telling him all this?

"Lord Tameron, look at me," his aunt commanded, though her voice was still soft. "You did nothing wrong. She did care for you, if only a little. Part of her reluctance to marry you came from knowing what kind of woman she was. Oh, she'll lead Jarrett a merry dance, but I don't blame her a bit. It may take a few years, but she'll be the one who rules in that marriage. You're really better off without her."

"I loved--I still love her, Lady Guardian! You promised that I could have the one I cared for at my side!"

"But she doesn't love you," she said, her voice now holding sorrow. "I'm afraid you know that part already. At least, she doesn't love you the way she does Jarrett, despite his flaws. I must commend you for acting so honorably when she was trying to find out what you were really like, by the way. Someday you will love someone who'll run to you the way she ran to Jarrett, as she said. As fast as you're growing, it probably won't be as long as you think. You're only fifteen. You have plenty of time."

Plenty of time? How long did she think he was going to have to wait? Tameron bowed his head. "As you wish, Lady Guardian."

"That's more like it. I'm just glad my subjects were so cooperative. Your father had no trouble with Aylar, but the other man resisted examination. I fear my brother had to press harder than he usually does to gain the information he wanted."

Tam forgot his own humiliation. Some people never recovered from the spell that let an air mage see through another's eyes. It was less natural in some respects than using the powers of water or earth on a living being, or so he'd heard--especially if mental barriers had to be broken. "I promised him that I'd keep his secrets," he said, hoarse with anger. "He saved my life!"

"He'll recover in time," she said soothingly. "The Protector told me what he found. Fortunately he was able to place the Silence spell about Outside properly, as should have been done in the first place, so Jarrett won't suffer any other consequences. In fact, my brother is prepared to overlook what the fellow did up in the hills before he gained enough sense to leave, though Stine will find his information useful."

The commander nodded, and let a little smile crease the wrinkles on her face.

"But most importantly, we were all happy to learn that no one meddled with your mind. Everything you told us is quite true. You can't imagine what a difference that makes!" The Guardian sounded relieved.

And what price will Jarrett pay for saving for my life? Will he ever really recover, or will he miss what my father took from him till the end of his days? Or perhaps my father has been thoughtful enough to make sure Jarrett feels grateful for the attention. Tam didn't know which would be worse. "Why didn't you just dig all this out of my own head, instead of making them regret they didn't just bury me out in the forest?"

"The shields that protect you prevent us from doing that," his aunt said. "Yes, the whole family was quite upset, though I hope their reward will help. It had to be done, Tam. You can't imagine what it was like when you were gone. It's incredible that you were so close all this time. You already know how far your father's enemies will go to strike at him through you. In just the last few months, you've barely escaped death not once, but several times. Of course we suspected the worst!" Her voice shook.

"And it's not like they were mages with family connections you had to worry about!"

"I don't blame you for being angry. I want to punish Tigran, too, though I suspect the reward the Protector is giving the family will go far towards taking care of that. But my main concern is your welfare. You have no idea how precious you are to us. I know it was hard to be shut up in your room as soon as you got here, but it was the best way I knew to allay any suspicions about you and let you have time for your leg to heal."

She stood up. Tam did too, out of courtesy to her. Then the Guardian led him to a table in a shadowy corner of the small room and took off the cloth that covered it. His sword and dagger were there on a splendid new belt. "I am pleased to return these to you, Lord Tameron. Wear these blades with pride," she said. "You have earned them."

He put them on, and felt better with them back. They were a symbol of the trust his father had once placed in him, and then withdrawn. His hands trembled with anger, though, thinking about the price Aylar and his family had paid. They undoubtedly wished they'd never seen him. Aylar probably thinks I broke my promise and that I'm just like all the rest, while Jarrett likely regrets he'd ever opened his mouth around me. All he was trying to do was to make me feel better, and now look at what's happened to him! Perhaps Dorena was just sad, but Tameron could only guess how Marysa felt about someone rummaging through all her secrets. His only consolation was that no one had done it to him--yet.

"It truly isn't that bad," the Guardian said, walking up to him. "I can see how angry you are. But they'll feel better sooner than you think. Their reward, you see, is to receive the same rank as Lord Honnold and to succeed him when he dies. I suspect Tigran will not find his position as delightful as he used to."

"An eminence they would have had anyway because of Jorry," Tameron said sharply. "Oh, they will be overwhelmed with my father's generosity!"

"But now it can't be taken away from them, which is something, too," his aunt said. "And I have yet to send them my reward for their care of you, which they may find somewhat more substantial. I'm sorry you're taking this so hard. Do you want to go back and rest? Your father would rather see you at the mid-day meal today, but I can tell him you need an hour or so to yourself before being formally presented."

He forced himself to seem calm. "No, my lady. I am ready now." Go back into that room? How long will they keep me there this time? Once he was out in public again, it'd be harder for them to keep him captive. He could fight for his rights, now that he had some inkling of what they were. The law-books had often spoken of how much power a Protector's heir really had, should he wish to exercise it. Oh, Lord and Lady, if only he weren't so young!

Tameron followed his escort to the great dining hall. Tam had to stop and catch his breath when he entered the double doors. Just a few months ago he'd been used to the long tables heaped with food on shining dishes. It wasn't quite like his dreams--now that he looked at it, the ceiling wasn't arched or vaulted--but he knew with sadness that Marysa would never sit with him here. Blessed Lord and Lady, there's enough here to keep Dorena's family for a whole winter!

He fell back into the graceful stride he'd been taught to use in public and sat at the high table, at his father's left hand. Lady Kiliane was on the right. The Guardian had probably exercised her prerogative to eat in private today, since she hadn't followed him here.

Just before the high table was served, the Protector motioned for everyone to be silent. "Let us welcome my son! We all rejoice at his return!" he cried, with a joyous smile on his face.

Tam hoped his father really felt that way. Something about the man rang false, the way Marysa's smile had when she was testing him.

All the people in the hall dutifully cheered. He rose and bowed to them, though he quickly scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Randor. The old man was nowhere to be seen. All this last week he'd longed for his servant and a real welcome home. The least his father could have done was to let him say good-bye.

The dinner was an ordeal. He wasn't used to so many people watching his every move. Despite the presence of all his favorite dishes, he had little appetite. His father barely spoke to him and conversed with Lady Kiliane instead. The young woman was attentive to the Protector's words, but obviously preferred to speak with Mauric, who was on her other side. Tam wished his father had adopted the girl and let him go. He wouldn't be worth anything as a pawn or hostage to his family's enemies that way. I promised Aylar to do my best, he grimly reminded himself. I still wish I'd taken one of the horses and looked for that merchant in Warding on my own. It'd certainly be better than this! He'd never felt so alone in his life, even when confined in his room with nothing but books for company.

Then again, Dorena and her family would have been blamed for his disappearance if he'd run away after he'd been discovered. Given the way they were treated for saving his life, Tam didn't want to know would have happened to them if he had disappeared again. He sighed, and stared down at his plate. Those who had no voice could only have one through him. He was a man now. It was time to act like one.

With that in mind, he ate well no matter how he was ignored by those around him. He refused the wine after one well-watered cup. One morning after the night before was enough.

He was still only part of the way done when the Protector, accompanied by Lady Kiliane, departed from the hall. Tameron lifted his spoon in the gesture that meant everyone could stay and eat till they were done. His father sometimes forgot that others had more appetite than he did. It didn't hurt to remind people that he was still the heir and had the right to make a decision about etiquette, however minor.

Mauric turned towards him with a look of gratitude. He'd clearly enjoyed his dinner more than Tam had. "Thank you, lord prince," the young man said, and lifted his eating-knife in emphasis. "This is such good food, I hate to leave it behind."

Tam nodded. "Thank you for bringing me back," he said. "I'm sorry the journey was so hard on you. I'm glad Lady Kiliane was able to help you afterwards."

Mauric glanced wistfully towards the direction where she and the Lord Protector had gone. "It was like lifting cold stone," he said, but smiled.

Maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all, Tameron thought. "Must be my big feet," he said. "I know I've outgrown my old boots."

"Could be," the young man said, an impish look in his eyes. "You certainly have the tightest shields I've ever seen." He slid over to Kiliane's empty chair. "I've had an easier time with people twice your size, actually. See, it's usually not too bad transporting people or anything that's alive, because then I can draw on their energy. But I couldn't feel anything from you. Your father must have trained you well not to drop those shields for anybody. Considering what someone tried to do to you when you were at Council last fall, I don't blame you."

"Something like that," Tam said. Mauric had to have heard the rumors that he had no powers at all if he'd been at Council, but still wanted to talk to him. Maybe he could be friends with a mage, without letting politics get in the way.

"Was someone keeping you hidden because of what happened?" Mauric asked. "Or were you really kidnapped? I've entered the Protector's service now, instead of the Sandega family's, so you can tell me."

His father hadn't bothered to tell him what story he should present to the world, so Tameron forged ahead with the truth. "I was out riding by myself, without my guards, but I was headed back towards the gates when the storm hit. I was lost in the forest nearby and hit my head when I fell from my horse. Aylar found me when he was out trapping, and his family took care of me. I still couldn't contact anyone," Tam said. "Then the wolves attacked Aylar's cattle, and I helped fight them off."

"I saw some of the hides hanging in back. We circled around before riding up to the place, just to make sure everything was all right. There must have been a lot of them!"

"I think at least half a dozen," Tameron said, "but I'm not sure. My leg was hurt and Jarrett helped me back to the cabin. Aylar did the skinning, I expect." No need to explain about his loss of memory. His father's enemies were undoubtedly still kicking themselves over their lost opportunity. Who knew what they might learn from Mauric, despite his pledges? He still felt proud about his fight against the wolves, even though it had brought back his memory. He smiled, thinking about other predators that could stand the same treatment.

"Why were you in the forefront, lord prince?"

"I was the only one with a sword. Aylar and Jarrett only had staves, knives, and a bow. Besides, it's my duty to protect them, not the other way around," Tam said. "I'm just lucky I've had so much training from Commander Stine. It's been a hard winter this year and those wolves were hungry." He was hungry now, too, and signaled for a servant to refill his plate.

"I've seen her with the other guards," Mauric said enthusiastically. "She's as good as a Guildmaster back home."

"Where's that?" Tameron murmured through a mouthful of food.

"Athlath. It's just north of here, on the other side of the Wall. I was training to be a man at arms for Lord Duven, since my father was one before he was hurt and had to go back to the farm. We were being attacked by Lord Sonder's men over a border dispute, and part of the outer castle wall started coming down on me during a sortie. The enemy had dug a tunnel beneath it. I suddenly found myself back at my family's farm. Once I returned, my lord sent me to the king to have his mage test me to see if I was possessed of a demon, born to magic, or lying about running away. There aren't any other wizards in my family, you see, so people wondered. When the mage said I needed training, they sent me here to see if I was strong enough to cross the Wall. I'm glad it was summer at the time! They must have felt me go through, because I wasn't here a day before a mage found me and had me sent to the College in Kelemath. Oh, how I love it there! They taught me that I wasn't evil, and showed me how to go from place to place wherever I wished." Mauric's eyes were bright with joy. "The Sandega family bid for my contract before I was even done with my training, but I couldn't believe how lucky I was when the Protector himself asked me for my services. I miss my family, of course, but he told me I may visit them in a few years. I just hope I don't frighten them!" He laughed.

Tameron's head whirled. What he saw as a prison was a haven to this other boy. The Protector had showed Mauric true kindness, not just the mask of stone Tam was used to seeing. Perhaps if he and Mauric became friends, things might go better with his father as well. He would give anything to see the tenderness his father had showed him in Kelemath once more.

He leaned towards the other boy. "I usually go to sword drill two hours after breakfast," he said. "At least I did before. Once I go again, you can spar with me if you like."

Mauric's face lit up. "Lord prince! Thank you very much! I haven't had much practice for a long time, but I miss it."

Tameron was pleased. It was nice to have someone look up to him for a change. If he could follow his father's commands and make a new friend in the process, so much the better. Maybe Aylar was wrong about mages. He felt sorry for Mauric, who was apparently suspected of evil just for having powers that were considered normal here. Maybe Outside wasn't as wonderful as Jarrett had thought it was.

Then again, Jarrett will never speak of Outside to anyone else again. But that's not Mauric's fault. He noticed that everyone was done, including the young mage, and were waiting for him. He stood, nodded his head to Mauric, and left the room.

The young mage also departed, no doubt having other duties. Tam didn't insist on following him around. He decided to test the limits of his authority once the crowd had dispersed. Hadn't the Guardian assured him that all was well? "Escort me to the drill room, please," he said. The soldiers stood still. He tried again. "Escort me to the Protector's presence, please." They continued to remain rooted to the floor. He moved towards the hall leading that way anyway. One guard stepped out and blocked the door. As he continued to walk towards her, she put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

He stopped. "Escort me to my room, please," he said quietly. That order they obeyed.

He was still a prisoner.

 

Chapter 13

 

That afternoon Tameron returned to his usual routine. He was glad to remove the boots, but knew what a trap that minor satisfaction was. If he gave into the temptation to wear the slippers outside this room, his boots might not be here when he got back. However, his window was now unlocked. Being able to breathe fresh air when he wanted to was a change for the better. Tam grimly applied himself to his studies again. There had to be something in one of his books to set him free.

Today he chose a book on strategy, clearly one left for him by Stine rather than anyone else. You must know the enemy's actions and plans in order to make your own, the author thundered in the introduction, as if he hadn't learned that years ago. After reading a while, he took a short break by the window and watched the guards. The ones on duty walked in a pattern, one he was so used to that he normally didn't notice it.

Today he did. I suppose I never considered them a possible enemy before, Tam thought, and grimaced. He took notes about their normal paths on the flyleaf of a storybook he used to like when he was much younger. Then he tried to guess how long they took to go from point to point along the northern wall.

He hurriedly set the book down when his evening meal was brought to him on a tray. He ate, barely tasting what was on it, then went back to his vigil. The night-chill finally forced him to close the window, and it began to grow dark. As far as he could tell, the soldiers' guard-pattern changed after the sun went down and the night-wards were set on the gate. Soon it was hard for him to see outside except where the sentry-lights were set.

Of course! His room was still light. All someone had to do was to look up, and it'd be obvious how he was staring outward. He turned off the glow-lights in the small study area, and brightened them in the privy. Then he went back, first closing the thin dividing-door, and waited for his eyes to adjust.

Tam was right. Three or four of the guards were circulating in the darker areas of the courtyard, and he probably wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't taken this precaution. He went back to the bedroom and made further notes on the inside of the cover, then jammed the book behind the small chest in the privy, where a telltale line of dust showed where the servants hardly ever cleaned. Then he brightened the lights back up near his bed, but not the one near his desk. If they believed him to be retiring early, who was he to dissuade them?

Fortunately he'd had the bed moved directly over the grill before he'd ridden off, and nobody had changed it. Tam took the tile from over the grill that funneled sound from the room below into his, and listened to the chatter in the audience room. As always, his father listened to judgments in the evening, claiming he felt sharper then. The Protector sounded fair as he gave his decisions to those who asked for his help. Yet, who decided which cases were chosen? Did Jarrett really have to pay everything just to get a hearing? Or was the Guardian correct about any wealth handed over being only a pledge that was usually returned?

Tam suddenly sat up. Two people were arguing right outside his door! "It's not right," said Lorin's voice. "How dare they treat the dragon like this?"

Oh, Lord and Lady, not that again! Tameron thought. He rose from his bed and moved closer to the hallway.

Another guard spoke. Tam almost recognized the voice, but not quite. "You're out of your mind! You're going to get me in trouble, too. Go bother someone else."

"Don't you see, that's why they're keeping him shut away! They have to keep him from his true destiny or lose all their power! He's our only hope!"

"If you keep this up I'll have to report you to Stine. She already warned both of us to leave him alone."

"One word with him, that's all I want. What can that hurt? If he tells me to leave, I will. Don't you want him to remember who his real friends are on the day we all hope for?"

"Enough. I remember who mine are right now. Leave!"

Tameron was disappointed when he heard Lorin's footsteps going away. His head ached again. Run, boy, run... came the old woman's voice, the one he'd heard in dreams. Now he knew it wasn't Stine's or his aunt's. Who are you? he cried mentally. Don't you have any other advice? He closed his eyes to shut this annoyance out, only to see a vision of the stone dragons on his father's palace in Kelemath stretching their wings...

He suddenly found himself beginning to fall, but caught himself by grabbing the door-handle. If he made too much noise, the guard would be in here asking inconvenient questions. Tam shakily stood all the way back up and stumbled back to his bed. He must have overstrained his leg, though he hadn't been on it that much. Then again, he'd been closed inside this room so long he probably was becoming weak despite his exercises.

It took him much longer to go to sleep that night even with the tile placed back over the grill to muffle the sounds from below. His dreams were confused; he was back in Kelemath this time, only Marysa was there too, leading him through the hall from the Council Room to the locked and barred chamber that held the Empty Throne. A dapper, dark-haired man with a ridiculous goatee and a red silk robe followed along behind him, chattering nonsense about staying out of trouble, while the Guardian stood watch for all of them near the door to the Council Room.

Tameron woke up in the darkness, panting for breath. Once he calmed down, it was obvious what was bothering him. Lorin's vague hints about dragons and Kelemath earlier had clearly combined with his own desire to see Marysa again. He had been with the Guardian today after not seeing her for over a week. Tam had no idea who the man with the goatee had been, but since the fellow wore a red silk robe, he was probably a mage in the back rows of the Council that Tameron had seen last fall or even earlier. Why his night-vision hadn't included Stine, Tam had no idea. Considering the last time he'd dreamed about the commander, she'd thrust a sword through his belly, it was probably just as well.

He fell asleep again, certain he'd figured it all out. The next morning he discovered a written schedule left on his desk. A good thing he'd been careful with the storybook he'd made his notes in! He rushed to see if it had been moved. No, there it was, peacefully resting behind the linen chest in the privy.

Was that really the best place for it? If a servant finally did look there, wouldn't he or she be suspicious? Tam picked it back up, brushed it off, and put it back in the case near his bed where it'd been before. He'd put any further notes there and commit as much as he could to memory. I hope they can't take my mind away from me! How ironic that sleeping in Aylar's barn was the only time he'd ever had true privacy, whether he lived in a castle or in a small mountain cabin.

He looked at the schedule again. This morning he was to be escorted to the morning meal. Then he'd be brought back, or taken to the Guardian, to study books given him or to listen to her wisdom. After two hours of that, he'd attend sword drill with Stine and the other guards. At least that part hasn't changed, he thought with relief. After the mid-day meal, he would join the Protector to observe how a mage with his power gave justice. In the evening, he was to rest for an hour after dinner in his room, then attend his father once more to discuss the day's cases with him and Lady Kiliane. He wouldn't be expected to stay up as late as the Protector normally did. Considering that his father preferred to sleep till noon, then work half the night through, Tameron was certainly glad of that.

Tam shook his head ruefully. Now he had far less time for any recreation than when he'd been here last fall. Well, I brought it on myself, riding off the way I did. If I'm going to be Protector after Father, I’d better become used to it. It's time I began carrying my share of the burden. At least I'll get out of this room for most of the day! 

He was going to miss riding or being outdoors, but understood why it wasn't part of his day, at least not yet. That would have to wait till the Protector trusted him again. Despite the Guardian's assurances, his father was probably still angry.

Besides, he really didn't want to try to do much till he got new boots. He could always use the practice ones for drill, but those had to be turned in before washing up. He normally wore his own, not the hacked-up things that stank of a thousand bouts, but today he thought he wouldn't mind so much.

After the morning meal in the hall, where he sat in the center seat of the high table in lieu of his father, he was escorted back to his room. A new book lay on his desk. He sighed, and began to read. It turned out to be a history of the wars that threatened Fiallyn Mor's existence until the First Guardians raised Wizardwall to protect everyone inside. Tameron was fascinated by the drawings of the lands Outside, and copied them on what was left of the flyleaf in his storybook.

These maps can't be right, or someone's lying to me. Athlath isn't even listed on the land to the north--this one shows nothing but tiny bits with names so small I can't even read them. And the place Jarrett talked about, Ramius, is all the way over to the left. How did he ever hear of it? I don't think the expeditions that leave Warding go that far. How old are these maps, anyway?

He hungrily gleaned every scrap of information he found about Outside from the horrible tales of atrocities against mages there. Perhaps he was supposed to be thankful his land was safe against the depredations of foreigners who devoured each other when they didn't have anything better to do. Tam wondered if the stories of treachery from ordinary people against the wizards of Fiallyn Mor were true, or only a useful excuse to keep them from power. Or had the commoners been provoked by something the mages did that was never written down? Tayn had told him to read history carefully, since losers rarely had the last word.

Was this why some families on the Council were afraid of having an ordinary person there? Maybe his own father believed he was ready to join a rebellion against the rule of mages after the way he'd spouted off against Tigran in the audience room. Tam knew better than that, after listening to Jarrett, but others might not think so. If only his father would trust him!

Tam loosened his cramped muscles when the knock on the door told him that his study-time was over. As his escort took him down to the drill-hall, he convinced them to allow him a brief stop at the cobbler’s. He was going to get blisters soon if he didn't get bigger boots, and it wasn't proper to appear in any formal setting in slippers. The old man measured him in silence, and Tameron took care to speak kindly to the fellow. Most of his guards kept their faces blank, even when he winced putting the old boots back on, but their eyes spoke volumes.

He was probably late, but they proceeded at a noticeably slower pace than before. This silent sympathy moved Tam more than words could have done.

As they arrived at the hall, Tam noticed that Mauric was there already, warming up in a corner away from the others. Since everyone stared at the claw marks on his leg as he changed into armor and the practice boots, he told the young mage all about his fight against the wolves in a voice loud enough so anyone who wanted to could overhear without breaking his father's command.

Where's Lorin? I hope he's not on punishment detail for trying to talk to me. He didn't make much sense, but if he's involved with the dragons, he could get in real trouble if I don't stop him. He supposed he'd better wait till his father quit having him watched so intently or he'd just make things worse.

Oh, it felt so good to move freely, even with all his heavy gear on! Tameron took it fairly easy, but did better than he expected with the weight of the armor, as well as with the sword. All that wood chopping had paid off. In fact, he had to stop and let out the straps around his shoulder plates.

The time came for informal sparring, once he was fully loosened up and ready to fight. Mauric still hadn't found a partner, so Tam chose the young mage for his first bout. Mauric was clearly out of practice, but remembered some of his old lessons. Tameron didn't mind, since he wanted to get back into form slowly himself.

Stine came over and watched. Her presence didn't make Tam as nervous as it usually did. "Young man, you wouldn't be half bad if you did this more than once or twice a year," she said with her usual edge. Mauric bit his lip, but nodded acknowledgment. The commander continued, "Lord Tameron, let's see how much you lost over the winter. Mauric, go spar with Remer. He's a bit closer to your level, and it'll do you good to work against both a sword and shield."

Mauric nodded and obeyed. Then Tam squared off against the commander. He was pleased to find his reflexes were still sharp, almost as sharp as they were the day he'd fought the wolves. Stine probed his defenses, only this time she didn't get through. "Rural life must suit you, though you're still too thin," she said afterwards. "Don't be afraid to fill your plate, even closed up in your room the way they have you most of the day. I'll make sure you don't go soft!"

Tam bowed and thanked her. He'd been surprised to see the older woman panting for breath, though if she'd gotten serious, the shoe would have been on the other foot. I may have held her off today, but she was going easy on me because of my leg, I'm sure.

The rest of the session wasn't bad at all. A few of the other guards in the hall glanced at him in friendly fashion, as if letting him know what they thought of his father's orders. Tam forgot everyone else when Lady Kiliane stopped by to greet Mauric. Her long black hair was bound in a net edged with pearls, while her shimmering blue gown had highlights like running water. His current sparring partner nearly broke through his guard as his attention was divided.

She held her nose and laughed when she stood next to the young mage. "I do hope you intend to bathe before you leave here," she said in a husky voice. "Especially since I must sit next to you at the mid-day meal!" Then she gazed at Tam. "Lord Tameron, I must ask the same favor of you. If that is you behind that ghastly armor, that is."

Tam rapidly disarmed his current opponent, and offered an arm to help the poor fellow up. The guard waved him away, scrambled to his feet on his own, and sought another partner. Tameron then took his helmet off and bowed to Mauric's friend. "I am sorry, my lady, that I ignored you at first. I did not mean to be rude, I assure you."

"Well," she said, looking down at the ground, "I really shouldn't have distracted you."

"My lady, you do that by existing," Tameron said, but shut up as soon as he saw Mauric flush red. He retired quickly to the baths and allowed the two of them to talk by themselves. Unfortunately a too-efficient servant took the practice boots before Tam could keep them.

Lady Kiliane had apparently soothed her friend's temper, as Mauric was still friendly at the mid-day meal. The Protector looked pleased at their camaraderie. Tameron reminded himself that the girl was the young mage's partner and not his, and avoided paying any more compliments.

After they ate, Tameron and Kiliane accompanied Lord Sidian to the audience room, while Mauric went to learn magic from the Guardian. That made sense to Tam. Mauric's powers were of the earth and so were his aunt's, though she was also strong in those of water.

As they walked to the audience room, the Protector commented on what a handsome couple he and Kiliane made with their contrasting coloring. It's almost like Father’s trying to throw me and Lady Kiliane together, I wonder why? He has to know how close she and Mauric are. Could he be thinking of an alliance to keep the Sandegas happy? He was intrigued by the possibility, though he knew any plans meant nothing until after his first Festival. At least Mauric and Kiliane have been allowed to choose for themselves so far. It's probably nothing anyway. Father's undoubtedly talking to the families of half-a-dozen girls about me. Still, it didn't hurt to look at the poised young woman near him.

When they entered the audience room, the Protector sat in the cameowood chair, while Lady Kiliane took the glittering seat he'd used last fall when hearing cases with the Guardian. Tameron asked a guard to fetch him a chair from one of the other rooms. Perhaps this was a test to see how he'd take a deliberate slight. If so, he wasn't about to lose his temper or endure hours of standing.

The cases they heard that afternoon were much like the ones Tam had judged with the Guardian's help. Lady Kiliane offered suggestions in her low, soft voice. Tameron tried to speak, especially when he questioned how much a merchant actually paid for crafts from villagers who lived out in the country. However, his father's impatient manner soon kept him quiet. After all, how do I know who's telling the truth? He knew better than to ask the Protector for help. The Guardian had encouraged him to do so with her, but the rules were different today. Tameron concentrated on trying to guess if people were speaking rightly by their manner before his father. Who would dare lie before the strongest wizard in Fiallyn Mor?

The Protector called a halt to the session late in the afternoon. Tam was glad he hadn't stood. Even after sitting for so long, he had to hide the limp the boots gave him.

He was escorted to his room to dress properly for evening, and was stunned to find his wardrobe full of new clothing. Tameron tried on a couple of the tunics, and was glad to see how much better they fitted him. The breeches were also longer and fuller cut, which made them a great deal more comfortable. The shirts were still a bit tight in the shoulders, but at least the sleeves reached all the way down to his wrists. No doubt a busy crew had spent hours making them during the past week or so. Tam looked at the embroidery with narrowed eyes. The style seemed more elaborate than usual, more like the kind his father used to wear. Had he really become tall enough for clothing the Protector had once used? He stroked the sleeve of one shirt, feeling the quality of the material. Oh, Father, does this mean you're not so angry with me now? It gave him a warm feeling that he hadn't been forgotten.

He hoped they had been his father's. That meant more than anything, though they were made of fine cloth that would keep out the winter wind. In several cases, the beaded embroidery was apparently made with jewels, not just glass, while one ceremonial tunic was stitched with buttons worth more than most of the furnishings in his room. And, who knew? Perhaps even his father saw this as a sign that his son was truly growing up.

Tameron finally noticed the footwear. Instead of his old boots, none of which fit him, his wardrobe rack was full of magnificent slippers, some styled properly for formal occasions. One even looked like a pair of boots, but from softer material. He tried that pair on. Oh, what joy his feet found in the soft padding inside! He began to toss the offending boots to the back of the wardrobe, when suddenly something occurred to him.

But I can't be right about that. These slippers are just until the boot maker finds time to make me more. He only had my new measurements today. Tam checked around his rooms. All his books had been dusted, though his old storybook was still wedged in its old spot, and the dirt behind the chest in the privy was now gone. No, as much as he longed for the comfort of the slippers, however suitable for all occasions, he'd better hang onto the boots. Besides, I'll only have to wear them till the new ones get done. That can't be terribly long. If I leave this pair behind, the servants will probably throw them out, especially after the way I've complained about them. I'll just have to make sure I don't limp, or Father will insist I wear the slippers. He pushed back the moment of fear that had inspired him to change his mind in the first place. He sighed when he put back the slippers and forced his feet back into the boots. He hoped he was just being foolish.

Then he was escorted to dinner in his new splendor. This time he actually looked forward to it. Even though Mauric and Kiliane generally talked to each other, they usually had a few words for him as well.

Tameron was happy to see the Guardian had decided to grace the chamber with her presence. His father spent most of the meal speaking with his sister, but having the Protector ignore him didn't hurt as much as it used to. He remembered the new clothes in his wardrobe, and knew actions spoke louder than words.

It was pleasant to converse with Mauric and Kiliane. He found her distracting, but knew that she truly wished to be with another no matter what his father said. He'd had enough of wooing someone who didn't love him, and he wasn't about to try it again. Once he returned to Kelemath he'd have a better chance. This Midsummer would be his first Festival. Surely he'd find someone them...if only Marysa was right about that!

After dinner Tam went to the library with Lady Kiliane and the Protector to discuss the afternoon's cases. He asked a few questions, mostly about the merchant he suspected of lying, but gave up when his father and Kiliane began speaking mind-to-mind. She must be strong in the element of Air as well as Fire. No wonder he wanted to train her in preference to any other candidates. He wasn't about to leave even when he felt shut out. He had rights as long as he was going to be his father's heir. If he wasn't, perhaps his refusal to take second place would force the Protector to tell him sooner rather than later. If I'm to keep my promise to Aylar, I can't do it as a figurehead!

Kiliane looked embarrassed when his father finally dismissed them for the evening. "I didn't know you couldn't hear me when I was using my mind-voice," she said, after the Protector had already departed.

"You were there at the Council when your family complained that I had no powers and therefore shouldn't be allowed to inherit from the Protector," he said. His escort waited for him as they stood in the hall by the door to library.

"I thought they meant you just weren't very strong, not that you didn't have any at all. And you were so brave! My uncle was angry for days when half his allies deserted him after you fell. You must have some magic. I mean, any commoner would have drunk the whole cup and died."

"I suppose you're right," he said, unable to admit to his weakness in front of her.

"And it's my fault anyway. Not everybody has strong Air magic as it is. The Guardian spoke to me about it once, but I keep forgetting. To be honest, I'm surprised your father didn't send me and Mauric back to Kelemath as soon as you returned. He's been so worried about you."

"I have a lot to learn about working with mages if I'm going to do what he wants of me," Tam said. If Father was really anxious about me, he certainly hasn't shown it much! He tried not to show how angry he was in front of Kiliane. It wasn't her fault. And his new clothes were surely a sign that the Protector did care for him. "I have to tell you the truth. I really don't have any magic. When I began to drink from that cup in Council, I knew what was supposed to be in it, and the taste was wrong. I nearly died anyway, Lady Kiliane. Your family was right about me." He didn't know why he'd spoken so bluntly, except it was wrong to lie even by indirection.

She looked at him nervously. "It's not my place to say anything about it. We must do as the Protector bids. And you can't help it, I suppose. Please, pardon my bad manners. I'm just not used to being around someone who...who isn't a mage. Mauric and I have been close ever since we went to Festival together with the rest of our friends from the Wizard's College."

"You're around such people every day, my lady," Tam said, indicating the guards.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" she said, glancing over at the soldiers in his escort, who were beginning to look impatient.

"I'm afraid I do, my lady." Tameron bowed to her, and rejoined his escort. Who noticed servants and soldiers? Certainly not such a gifted mage such as Lady Kiliane. He hoped she listened to Mauric, who seemed to pay more attention to such people. He envied them both, though. At least they'd had a Festival.

The next few days fell into a routine. Different books showed up on his desk, including one about ancient customs of Fiallyn Mor that Tam read only because he was deathly bored with all the others by now. The chapter that discussed the tradition of honoring mages who had more children than their Duty commanded bothered Tameron, especially the part about the sanctity of any woman found to be a Blessed Mother. A good thing I'm not a girl! If it's true that magic doesn't affect me, or my shields are so heavy it amounts to the same thing, people might think that I...that I...Oh Lord and Lady, my head hurts! He rubbed his forehead. He felt weak and dizzy again, the way he had a few nights before when Lorin had been outside his door. Stine had said something about this, too, on their journey here last fall, but surely she'd been joking.

He slammed the book shut and picked another one at random. He didn't remember anything of what he read, though. He was too distracted as he thought about the closed-off tower near the Protector's palace in Kelemath. He was glad when the time came for him to go to drill. Anything was better than contemplating a future that held Dever Tower in it. Run, boy, run... a harsh voice echoed in his mind.

Tameron eagerly changed into armor once down in the drill-hall. He needed exercise to clear out the spider webs of suspicion that took root inside his mind.

Besides, he enjoyed talking to Mauric about Athlath, the land to the north that didn't exist in his books. Tam asked questions casually, as if he had no real interest. Mauric taught him a few phrases, and some gestures they used with foreigners. "You see, my prince, the Guild hires swords from all over as well as lordless men in our own land," the young mage said. "Many of them speak oddly, but obey orders well as long as we use these signals. Lord Duven hired a pair of archers from the west one time, to help teach ours what to do. It took them a long time to learn our commands, but they knew handsigns well enough."

They touched the tips of their blades lightly, only pretending to spar while they talked. Tam shook his head. "Warriors in independent groups, with no oath given to any but themselves?"

"It is strange," Mauric said. "But these Guild-soldiers are true to their word, once they are satisfied with the terms. Our merchants like hiring them very much. The traders want to be on their own and not have to pay taxes to a local lord. Both groups dislike having to bow to mages like they do here."

Tameron thought about it. "If this Guild had to swear allegiance to the Council, it'd make it easier to keep a watch on those who are skilled at arms. Do any of these fighters become bandits if they fall on hard times?"

"Their own people are supposed to hunt them down if that happens. Most lords don't like to use them, but they're so good that if one side hires them, the other has to as well."

Tam nodded, and then disengaged as drill-time was over. Someone like Jarrett would have had someplace to go besides the hills once he'd quarreled with Lord Honnold. If common people as well as mages could hire them, the balance of power might change. Perhaps he ought to mention such a Guild to Stine--once he was allowed to talk to her outside the drill-room, of course. Or perhaps he could pass this suggestion to her through the Guardian, when he finally spoke with her. So far he'd only been left books to read.

He thought deeply about many matters during the next few days. His father occasionally left him alone with Lady Kiliane in the evenings. The young sorceress was friendly to him, and always took care to speak out loud. He appreciated that. At first he thought she was just feeling sorry for him, but after a while it seemed as if he, Mauric, and Kiliane were friends.

As such, he took care not to flirt with the young woman, especially when Mauric was around. Tam knew how the pair felt about each other, but he couldn't help responding with joy any time she smiled at him. She began to replace Marysa in his dreams as well. Fortunately none of them were like those he'd had last fall. He'd turned red-faced and tongue-tied once during the mid-day meal when his father had left early again, and Mauric had teased Kiliane about their mutual Duty to bear mage-gifted children. The Protector and Lady Aliana had been able to fulfill the College's requirements between themselves, but that was unusual. Most of the time a mage either sired or bore four children by a series of different partners. This way the Wizard's College kept most lines from the ill effects of kin-sickness, while learning which talents passed most easily from parent to child. Their judgment had to be final, since only the College kept detailed records on who was truly related to whom.

One morning, when he was supposed to be reading yet another book, he seriously pondered what would happen to him. He didn't really need to worry about it until after his first Festival; even if he'd married Marysa he might have gone to Bogatay this summer. Would his father let him join in the feasting here in Lochil, or would he be allowed to participate in the delights that Midsummer offered in Kelemath? In less than half a year he'd find out!

Then he remembered the attack on him in Lochil. Was it safe to roam the streets if his father's enemies were still after him? It's not fair! He knew better than to ask what was planned for him. Look at what happened the last time he'd dared to ask what might become of him.

Tameron took out a brush and paper to write a brief note. Lady Guardian, I have read and read till it doesn't make sense any more. When may I speak with you to receive your wisdom? He waved the paper in the air to dry it, not having any sand, and gave it to the guard at his door so it'd be delivered properly. No doubt she'd tell him that she didn't know, but at least she'd try to make him feel better about it.

It'd been nearly three weeks since he'd returned from the cabin. That evening Tameron met Lady Kiliane in the library where they discussed that day's pleadings, while his father sat at a large desk. The Protector seemed distracted, and told him to close the door even though it was already shut.

Tam was also more aware than usual of how close Lady Kiliane was sitting next to him. Her perfume--oh, what was it this evening? A summer rose blooming in winter...not that she needed any help to seem fair in his eyes.

His father cleared his throat. "Tameron, Kiliane...I don't quite know how to begin. I have received a summons from the Council as a whole to return to Kelemath. Everyone's at each other's throats, and they all claim it's never been so bad before. Kiliane, I'm afraid your family is right in the middle of it. They say they fear your position is threatened with my son’s return, and complain that he's either an impostor or totally incompetent, depending on what day it is. They are agreed, however, that he must go."

"My uncle swore he knew nothing about the poison!" Kiliane protested.

"Did he say so out loud or mind to mind?"

"What difference does that make?" she asked, but her face said she knew the answer already.

"No one can lie when the power of the Spirit of Air sends their thoughts. I want to find out who tried to kill Tameron, but I'll let it go if they guarantee his safety from now on."

Kiliane bowed her head and looked confused. He wanted to protect her, but didn't know how. She couldn't be a threat to him. Why, several times he'd taken food or drink from her at meals without any suspicion.

Maybe that hadn't been wise.

The Protector continued. "Some of the Council members have doubts about my son, but are willing to accept my lead, while others feel that my son would make an excellent Protector in his own right. Not all of them realize how hard it would be to manipulate you, Tam, but I suspect they'd find out soon." He offered a rueful smile.

Tameron couldn't help smiling back. He never expected his father to give him such respect after the way he'd acted earlier.

The Protector's face grew solemn. "Lady Kiliane, I know how fond you and Mauric are of each other. I know how hard you've fought your own family so they would accept him. I suspect that the Wizard's College will soon finish their study of Mauric's powers and how they would mix with yours. However, you would be doing Fiallyn Mor a great service if you would consent to fulfill the first part of your Duty with my son."

"What?" Tam shouted.

Kiliane's face crumpled. Then she stood, shakily at first, then proudly. "Mauric and I love each other. I told him I'd wait forever if I had to till the College said we could have children together," she said. "We're going to be life partners! You can't do this to me!"

"You know you have a Duty," Lord Sidian said quietly. "Most women prefer to do it when they are younger. I'm surprised you're having trouble with this."

The young woman grimaced. "My mother told me what she went through in her land Outside before she finally found refuge here, only to discover that she was almost as much a slave in that way here as she was in her old home. Is it so much to ask to have one child of my choosing first?" A tear ran down her face.

"I don't blame you for waiting till now, but this ordeal becomes more dangerous each year once you are over thirty," the Protector said. "Even if the College gives their consent, it may well be that long till your family does. I can help with that, if need be. The match I'm proposing is no worse than the others the College has found for you, and which you have refused thus far. When everything becomes known you will discover it was a small sacrifice."

Tameron wanted to run out of the room. He thought Kiliane was attractive, but never thought his father would force them together like this!

Then she began to weep. "No...not him. I can't reach his mind. Even after you showed me how to use my magic to see into the hearts of ordinary people, it didn't work with him. You can't enforce a Duty between me and someone without any powers! Not even the College can do that!" She backed away from the desk towards the door.

He sat quietly, too miserable to speak. He wasn't about to jump into bed with someone who didn't want him there. Even Marysa had given him a warmer welcome. Then he thought of something. "I have not had my first Festival, sir," he said. "I only turned fifteen at Midwinter."

"From what the Guardian told me about your conduct with that woman in the cabin, I don't think your age will be a problem!" his father snapped. Tameron stared at the floor, so humiliated he couldn't think of an answer.

The Protector gestured to Kiliane. She slowly walked back towards her chair, reluctance visible in every step. "Lady Kiliane," Lord Sidian said, "if it's any consolation, a child from the two of you will be extraordinarily talented. My son may not be a mage, but he's something even more precious. I dare not say more till the time has come. Think of how you can bring peace to our land. The Wall keeps our enemies from Outside from destroying us. Shall we devour ourselves inside?"

Kiliane's face turned hard and cold. "I know some mages have fun during Festival with people like him, but I'm not one of them. This was his idea, wasn't it? I'd heard commoners were no better than beasts!"

"I didn't know anything about it! Don't talk about me as if I'm not here!" Tameron shouted, and stood up.

His father got to his feet as well, and loomed over both of them. "You may not have a choice. There are ways to make this situation more palatable to both of you," he said with an edge to his voice. "This has long been the price of power in Fiallyn Mor. Get used to it."

Kiliane's face went pale, and her eyes became larger. Tam wished he knew why she looked so frightened. "Father, don't punish her," he said. His own anger was gone. "I--I don't want her either." He knew his opinion didn't matter, but he had to try.

"Both of you are dismissed!" The Protector thundered.

Tam bowed and left the room, with Kiliane right behind him. He tried to speak to her before she departed, ignoring the presence of his escort near the door. "My lady, please forgive me. This wasn't--I didn't ask for this! You're beautiful, but I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to. Please believe me!"

She glared at him and turned her back as she nearly ran down the hallway. He felt heartsick. What was wrong with him? His escort faced him with blank faces, as if they hadn't heard a word. Now he was glad they couldn't speak to him. He ordered them to take him to his rooms. For once the place seemed like a refuge rather than a prison.

At least it felt that way till he fell asleep. His dreams were terrible. Once again he stood at the entrance to Aylar's barn, only this time he broke open the door and attacked Jarrett. The man's face kept changing first to Tigran's, then to Mauric's, as Tam gripped his enemy's neck and squeezed. Marysa's face changed to Kiliane's, but it didn't matter. Mauric's corpse lay on the floor, as he tore open Kiliane's dress and crushed her body to his. The more she writhed in her struggle to get away, the more loudly she screamed, the better part of him liked it. "So I am a beast, am I?" he shouted in this nightmare, his heart filled with anger and obscene pleasure.

Tameron woke up, shaking with horror, and then relief that he was alone. At least whatever keeps me from having magic means they can't read my dreams. His sheet was soaked with acrid sweat. Once he'd visited the privy, he glanced at the shrine of the Lord and Lady in the corner of his room. "Are you more than dolls?" he wondered out loud.

Even if they were more, if only as symbols, what good were they to him? It was doctrine that if ordinary people lived good lives they were reborn as mages. Mages who used their powers well saw them increase in future lives, while those who did evil saw their magic decrease until it was gone altogether. What had he done to find himself so cut off from all power, even less than what commoners had? Perhaps Kiliane believed that mages were morally superior to the rest as well. Considering how I enjoyed doing evil in my dream, maybe she's right.

Oh, if only he were certain the Lord and Lady actually watched over him. It was nearly dawn already, so there was no point going back to bed. Tam dressed, and tried to distract himself with the latest book.

He'd gotten barely three pages read, none of which he absorbed, when the first knock on the door came. He forced his feet back into his boots and obeyed the summons.

His daily round of duties began once more. Breakfast was an ordeal. His father pretended nothing had happened, while both Mauric and Kiliane stared at him with hatred. Every mouthful of food tasted like ashes and sat on his stomach like a stone. As he feared, there was no answer to the note he'd sent to the Guardian when he returned to his rooms. He didn't know if she'd even received it.

Sword drill was just as bad. Stine barely spoke to him, while everyone else avoided looking at him. Mauric had clearly been talking about last night before Tam came in.

On the practice ground the young mage came at him as if he meant to kill. Tameron defended himself, but didn't dare fight back after what he'd dreamed last night. It wasn't Mauric's fault he was shaking with fury and longing to destroy any sparring partner assigned him today. Then Mauric maneuvered Tam into a corner. At least I don't have to worry about someone attacking me from the rear this way! Anger turned to worry when Mauric kept pressing, even after it should have been clear he was only defending himself.

"It wasn't my idea!" he said in a low voice, as he raised his sword to block another blow. "I don't blame you for loving her. She's beautiful! But I'll never touch her unless she wants me to. I've never used my rank that way and I never will."

Mauric hesitated for a moment, and tried to strike again. "I love her so much, lord prince. I know I can't keep her to myself forever, not here. They told me about the Duty at the College. I swore it wouldn't matter to me, as long as she put me first. They even tried to offer me other women, if only I'd let her go. I knew that someday they'd let the two of us have children if I only waited long enough. I--I pretended we'd be together forever, the way it was for my parents--and from what I heard, yours...but now I know I can't have it. I can't stand it..." His voice cracked.

"You've had a couple of Festivals with someone you love," Tameron said. "I haven't even had one yet. And the girl I wanted to marry when I believed I was just an ordinary person ran to someone else the moment he showed back up just over a month ago!"

The young mage shook his head. "I suspect she's regretting it now! This land is so strange sometimes."

"At least you know that I don't have to have magic to have honor," Tam said bitterly. He sheathed his sword. "Kiliane said I was a beast just because of that, but it isn't true." He hoped it wasn't true. After last night he had doubts.

Mauric smiled sourly, and raised his sword in salute. "I thought you just had strong shields," he said. "You ought to be rejoicing in your good fortune, lord prince. You have all the privileges without the qualifications. It's not every father who provides so well for his son." He put his own weapon back in his scabbard. "We shouldn't duel like this. It would be unfair to take advantage of your disability."

He clenched his jaw with rage when he saw the pity in the young mage's eyes. "Or you're too ashamed to admit I'm better than you are anyway!" Mauric stepped back swiftly as Tam redrew his blade. The sharp-edged metal quivered in the air.

Tam breathed deeply. The young mage held his hands out away from his belt despite the sword pointing at his chest. I can't do this. It'd be murder. I can't let last night become real. Kiliane would be right about me then.

A couple of the others were looking his way. He had to think of something quickly. "Isn't Commander Stine the best you've ever seen?" he asked.

Mauric nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

"You can always claim you were holding back if I beat you. But she never takes it easy on anyone, even me. Especially me. Ask any of the other guards!" Tameron said sharply. "But she's not a mage either. Now watch this!" He turned away from Mauric while the commander went from one sparring pair to another. No wonder she fought so hard to keep her reputation as a warrior! Anything was better than having people feel sorry for you!

He lowered the sword till its point drooped towards the ground as he quietly walked in her direction. It was going to be harder than he thought. She was the only one who treated him as if he were human the day he'd returned. But in some ways she's worse than the mages. She's given her life to betray her own people who rebel against the rule of magic. My father does his best, but maybe that's only because I'm there watching him. And she knows, probably better than anyone else, just how evil some wizards are.

It was time as well to avenge the humiliation he'd suffered, too, not once, but twice. How could the other guards bow to him as his father's heir if he let that go without at least trying to fight back? She must despise me, too, A lot of ordinary people think that only those with magical powers have the right to rule. Why should she respect me, especially after she's beaten me so easily in front of everyone?

Everything boiled over inside of him at once. The look on Kiliane's face when she heard that he might be her mate still rankled. Losing Randor left an empty ache inside. Most of all, he was still furious at Jarrett for coming home when he did. And now Mauric's look of pity. No. I've had enough of sitting and waiting for something to happen. It's my turn.

Tameron held the sword loosely in his hand and stepped towards the open center of the hall. Stine was strong, but he was younger. Running her ragged might give him a chance.

The commander looked at him and immediately leaped into a defensive posture. He thrust without hesitation. She barely avoided it, and swung into a counterattack. He fended that off, immediately slamming into a bold riposte that nearly knocked the blade out of her hand. She dodged to the side and braced herself as Tam followed her with a powerful charge that barely missed.

They went back and forth a few minutes without injury, though any of their blows could have been deadly had they landed. He gritted his teeth, trying desperately to control his anger rather than let it rule him. He was done with being exhibited to the other guards as a bad example!

Stine suddenly leaped and came down at him, her edge ready to strike. Tam twisted away, and reached up inside her guard. She swiftly retreated and brought her shield down on his blade. He pulled it away, and stepped to one side. Did she remember which leg he'd hurt? Maybe not. He feigned a slight weakness in his right knee. She went for it. He balanced itself on his right leg, kicked out his left one, and tripped her. She went down. He knocked the sword out of her hand with the edge of his foot, and set the point of his weapon lightly on her throat. "My enemies won't stop," he said hoarsely. "Neither will I."

He glanced up, though not so far he lost sight of Stine. Everyone in the room was staring at him. Mauric bowed, with fear in his eyes. Tameron slowly backed away, sheathed his sword, and left the sparring area. He couldn't bear it any longer. As he stripped off his armor, he threw his wrist braces against the wall. At least they couldn't entertain themselves with the sight of him till they came through the door. Today they might hesitate to do so.

It took him longer than usual to dress because he was shaking so badly. As he left the drill area, his escort patiently followed him, though he noticed the whispers. Perhaps they'd seen what had happened. None of them dared to catch his eye.

He stopped at the boot maker’s. The old man cringed and apologized for not having the new boots ready. "You can't imagine what it's been like this last week, Lord Tameron." No doubt he felt he had to explain, and not just shake his head. "My apprentice is such a lazy boy!" the fellow continued. "I'll do my best, I swear, but I can't tell you for sure when they'll be done. Aren't those slippers good enough? The Protector ordered them especially for you."

"What about that pair there?" Tameron pointed at a set that looked close to the right size.

"Oh, dear. I must deliver those today. He'll be so upset if they aren't ready yet..." The old man's voice trailed off as he clearly realized what he'd just said. "Please don't be angry, Lord Tameron, I'm only doing what your father told me to."

Tam strode off without a word. So he'd been right all along. The Protector would do anything to keep him prisoner! He grew more furious with every pinched step.

Instead of returning to his room, he turned towards the stables. He was weary of being led around like a blind nag. For once, his escort didn't block him. Maybe it was time to really test the limits placed on him.

The guards on the inner doors wouldn't allow him through. Tam felt trapped and frightened now. Everyone seemed to be against him. He wearily gave up and returned to his room, and then asked for a tray. He couldn't face them all at the mid-day meal today, especially Kiliane. He knew that his dreams didn't reflect reality, but he still felt their shame.

Oh, Lord and Lady he was sick of all the rules that said he had to behave, no matter the provocation. Were they trying to drive him into acting like a beast?

And he'd just publicly defeated the one person who might help.

 

Chapter 14

 

Tam became even more furious when the servant brought him a summons to appear in the dining hall instead of a tray. He reluctantly obeyed, though he had no appetite. His father's disapproval at the mid-day meal was so thick he could cut it with a knife. Mauric and Kiliane spoke with each other as if he didn't exist. For a few moments, he wished the wolves had killed him. Anything would be better than enduring this.

If only I could have stayed lost. Surely Aylar can't expect me to build a bridge on this foundation!

While at table he upset his plate onto the floor when his hands shook too much. Kiliane's scornful laughter made him wish he'd never been born. "May I withdraw from the room, Lord Protector?" he asked quietly.

His father's face turned gentle for a moment. "Of course. I'm sorry you're feeling ill today. Do you want to rest this afternoon instead of listening to more cases?"

It was a temptation, but one he'd better ignore. "Thank you, Father, but I'll probably feel better by then." He hoped. His churning stomach warned him he should leave soon, unless he wanted to disgrace himself even more.

Tameron was grateful he had permission to depart. Even a prisoner was given some respite from constant observation. He hurried down the hall as quickly as his escort would let him, and barely made it to the necessary room in his quarters before his rebellious stomach gave up the little he'd eaten. Let the guards report this! he thought. He was grateful when one of them offered him a damp towel to wipe his mouth.

He finally persuaded them to leave, after he pretended to feel much better. Once they were gone, he collapsed onto the bed. I hope the noon meal lasts longer than usual today. Having Kiliane hate me like that all afternoon isn't going to be easy.

How could he blame her? He wasn't like Tigran, but how would she know? She and Mauric were in love. Despite being raised to accept the Duty, it must be difficult to give one's body to a stranger.

Tam got back up and paced restlessly around the room. It's not fair. I don't even like her, and I already know what she thinks of me!  He still couldn't forget last night's dream. Her beauty made him long for her. She probably thought that he was all too willing to follow the Protector's command despite his protests. No wonder she was upset.

If only she wasn't so beautiful! He stared out his window onto the courtyard.

What of Mauric? What use was it to make friends with anyone if his father was always going to ruin it? Maybe that's the point. Maybe a future Protector isn't supposed to have any friends, only subjects to command. That couldn't be right either. His father had Mimn by his side.

Will I ever have anyone who cares for me that way? Even Marysa said he deserved a girl who'd run to him the way she had to Jarrett. Tam sighed, bathed his face with cold water again, and changed his shirt. He was tempted once more to abandon these horrible boots and use the formal-looking slippers. If only he could be sure he wouldn't 'lose' them once he left them behind. He was surprised the boots hadn't been taken away and the slippers substituted while he was at drill. Of course, then he'd have the perfect excuse to hang onto a practice pair which fit him much better.

Tameron sat down and rubbed his feet, which were becoming more painful each day, despite the hours he spent in only his stockings. How long was he going to be trapped in a mold that no longer fit? How much of his trouble did he bring on himself by insisting on doing things his way?

All too soon his escort came to fetch him. He'd better follow them. It was his right and privilege as the Protector's heir to be at his father's side. If he refused this duty, he might end up with nothing. He'd been weak earlier today, and had forgotten how important it was for him to maintain the appearance of strength even when he felt horrible inside. Those like Aylar would never have a voice if he gave up so easily.

The Protector pretended everything was fine. Tameron was thankful. He ignored Lady Kiliane as much as possible, though the scent of her perfume and the sound of her soft, clear voice reached him anyway. He fiercely reminded himself that he hadn't gone after Mauric or Jarrett when he'd had the opportunity. He wasn't a beast, no matter how badly he behaved in his dreams.

The afternoon dragged on forever. Tameron's stomach finally settled down and he became hungry. If he turned his head too quickly, he felt dizzy and light-headed. A good thing I insisted on a chair from the very beginning. I'd be in real trouble if I had to stand all this time.

Tam forced himself to concentrate on each case. He didn’t want to give his father or Lady Kiliane any excuse to think him incompetent. The Guardian herself had thought him able enough, at least with her help. If only the Protector could see it too!

Every time he shifted his feet they hurt. His toes were the worst. Trying to think of a proper judgment for each petitioner distracted him from the pain. At least today most of the cases were interesting, which helped. He asked a few questions of his own to clarify points he didn't understand. The Protector looked annoyed, but Tameron kept at it. How else was he supposed to learn? Admittedly, he was rather pleased when his questions occasionally brought answers that had a bearing on the problem.

At last today's session was done. Tam stood up too quickly and swayed on his feet, and then grasped the edge of his father's chair before he fell. "Pardon me," he said. Such presumption might anger the Protector, and he removed his hand as soon as he regained his balance. Lord Sidian frowned slightly, but didn't seem upset.

"Why don't you retire early after supper tonight?" his father asked. "I fear I'm asking too much of you lately. You had a hard life this winter, and I see you're not fully recovered."

Tameron bit his lips to avoid saying he'd rather be back in Dorena's cabin than any place else in the world. "I'll be fine, sir. My feet hurt a bit."

"Then stop wearing those boots, if they don't fit any more. You're only hurting yourself by being so stubborn."

Tam bowed his head. Maybe Father is right, and I'm just seeing a threat where it doesn't exist. But why did he tell the boot maker to hold off on giving me a new pair? "I'll think about it, sir," he said.

"Good. If you feel up to it, be here after the evening meal." He dismissed Tam with a gesture, but kept Lady Kiliane behind.

Tameron limped back to his rooms and gratefully took the boots off there. Perhaps if I seem to cooperate, he'll be happier. He still didn't understand what was going on. If his father wanted to change his mind about who ought to be his heir, the Council would agree with him in a moment. Why am I being tested like this, over and over again? Is it because he still doesn't trust me? Maybe it's because I won't give in to what he thinks is right. Or maybe it's because I dared to speak against a corrupt mage! If that was the case, he'd fight all the harder. Someone has to care about the commoners. Kiliane won’t.

He heard noise by his window. Lorin's face pressed against the glass. "How did you get here?" he asked as he opened it.

His friend climbed in with Tam's help. "Dragonback," Lorin said, waving towards the many statues that studded even the inner courtyard of the Guardian's palace.

"Don't the guards ever look up?"

"Why should they?" His friend sat down and caught his breath while Tam closed the window.

"You can't imagine how glad I am to see you here!" he said in a low voice, once he was done. He hoped they weren't making too much noise. "I heard you outside my door the other night. Why would anybody be afraid of me?"

Lorin grimaced, as if it hurt him to talk. "Can't say much. The Protector...he sent for me."

Like Jarrett, Tam thought. "Don't try to talk about it. If Father's put a silence spell on you, it'll hurt if you try to break it. It doesn't matter. I won't let you get into trouble." He hoped he had that much power if Lorin was caught here.

"Have to say something..." His friend's face went pale. "Fill the empty chair..." Then Lorin clutched at his chest and nearly fell.

Tameron helped the other boy over to the bed. "Not another word!" he hissed. He was amazed the other boy was able to say this much. Spells against speaking could sometimes kill if someone fought against them too hard. "Besides, it's ridiculous. I'm to sit on the Empty Throne and free the dragons, when I can't even get a pair of boots that fit?"

Lorin nodded, and opened his mouth again. Tam hushed him. "Don't! It means a lot just to know someone still cares. I'll have to call for help if you get too sick, and Stine will roast us both over a spit."

"You beat her," Lorin whispered, and smiled when nothing happened to him.

Tameron suddenly felt proud, something he'd been too upset to notice earlier. "Yes," he said, almost to himself. "So I did." Nobody was better than the commander, not even any of the mages who fancied themselves warriors. None of them had ever been able to win against her without using their powers, and even then she'd defeated most of them. Of course, he'd tricked her; but such stratagems were allowed. He certainly hadn't been easy meat before faking a limp, unlike his other encounters. Tam gloried in his triumph for a few moments. Then reality set in. "Next time it won't be so easy," he said ruefully. "She'll be expecting me to try something like that. I'll probably fall flat on my face from the next trick she pulls on me!"

Lorin shrugged, and slowly sat back up as he recovered his strength. Tameron fetched a box that held a game of Golden Path and they played quietly, tossing the dice onto the bed to keep the noise down. In some ways, it was the first truly peaceful time he'd had since he'd returned.

The knock for dinner came all too soon. He said, "I'm so glad you came." Then he thought of something. He didn't mind looking as if he were obeying his father as long as he could hedge his bets. "Wait--before you leave, can you take these boots with you? They're too small for me, but if...if something happens, I'll need them back. I can't trust anyone else."

Lorin agreed, and used the laces to tie the boots around his neck. As he left through the window, he said, "There's someone else you can trust here in Lochil."

"Who?" Tameron said. One of his guards knocked again.

Lorin grimaced in pain, but his lips made a silent word. He panted for breath as he held onto the stone dragon just outside Tam's room.

His heart leaped in his chest as he waved farewell to his friend and quickly put on the elaborate formal slippers. As he was escorted to dinner, hope gave him new appetite. For Lorin had mouthed a word that might have been Randor.

The evening meal went much better. Now he was hungry enough to ignore the stares, no matter how ill-intentioned. If his father wanted an heir who was strong enough to endure anything in order to do the right thing, that's what he'd get!

Tam had to admit it was much easier walking in the slippers. The Protector nodded his approval as Tameron came into the library. He bowed with respect he didn't feel to both his father and to Lady Kiliane, and joined them.

They discussed several cases they'd listened to that afternoon, including the one about the stolen cheese the size of a cartwheel. He had doubts about one person's testimony on that one, but his father had already reminded him once that the threat of truthspell was usually enough. That was probably true. But had the girl who swore she'd hadn't seen it been telling all of the truth? He'd wanted to ask her if she had smelled it or otherwise had known where it'd been. Sometimes how you asked the question was just as important as the answer. He was tired of always being kept in the background. If he was going to be Protector someday, and not just a figurehead, he had to use the abilities he had and not grumble about those he didn't--and should be able to ask for help when he needed it.

All three of them spoke for a little while about a different judgment, one his father had given earlier in the day. Then the Protector stood up abruptly and walked to the door. "Please, remain seated," he said. "I've been called away for a few moments, and I'll return shortly."

Kiliane looked surprised after the Protector left. "I didn't hear any summons," she said.

"Perhaps he meant an appointment he suddenly remembered," Tam said. "Or maybe the Guardian sent her thoughts to him. Since she's his sister, the bond between them may hide their mind speech from any strangers."

She looked relieved. "I thought my own powers had failed me for a moment," she said. Then she bowed her face. "Or your father had shut me out so I'd know how you felt when we did it." The glowing light of the lamp on a small table nearby glittered on her long black eyelashes. "I--I must apologize for how I spoke to you, Lord Tameron. You can't help the way the Lord and Lady made you. I mean, half of Fiallyn Mor is like you, not having magic and all that. I wish I hadn't been so cruel to you. I just love Mauric so much!"

Tam couldn't be angry with her now. "You're lucky. He loves you, too. He nearly spitted me at drill this morning because he thought I meant harm to you. He's quite good, you know," he said. It couldn't hurt to praise the young mage, though Mauric wasn't that skilled with a sword.

She lifted up her face and smiled a little at him. He struggled with his feelings. He knew she loved Mauric, not him. He shouldn't even think about what the Protector had said about his Duty. If only Kiliane didn't hate the idea so much! Mauric is my friend. I don't want him to hate me, too.

"Did you really mean it when you said you didn't want me?" she asked, now appearing to size him up.

"Of course not!" Tameron took a deep breath as warmth rushed into his face. He stood up and took a few steps away from her. "Lady Kiliane, I turned fifteen only a couple of months ago, but I'm not a child. I know what it's like to love someone who doesn't--doesn't care back." He remembered when Marysa had laid her head on his shoulder in the barn and wept after telling her story, but it hadn't been real. "You've made your feelings quite clear," he continued. "I know what you really think about ordinary people. Don't pretend." His voice cracked, and he wanted to die from embarrassment. He deliberately paced around the room to put some distance between him and the girl he couldn't have.

She rose to her feet. "I apologize to you again. Maybe after Mauric and I...when they finally allow us to have a child...maybe after that you and I can do what your father is asking. Most mages have to face up to the Duty with more than one partner eventually. Maybe I am being too narrow-minded."

He turned back to look at her, though he knew that was a mistake. She wasn't half the woman Marysa was! "Maybe I didn't make myself clear," he said crisply. "I want more than scraps from someone else's table! Do you think commoners care any less about that? I know I don't!" He took a deep breath. It was time to be honest. "Yes. I want you. You have that much power over me. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but since I know you don't even like me, have the kindness to leave me alone!"

She walked over to him and gently kissed him on the lips. His arms went around her without asking the rest of him for permission. Kiliane was shorter and slimmer than Marysa, but just as warm and soft in his embrace. Lord and Lady, if only this wasn't a sham!

He opened his eyes and saw that hers were half-closed, as if lost in thought. Her expression reminded him of the way Marysa had looked when she'd wondered about him as a husband. That told him all he needed to know. He'd never touch her again, no matter how much he hated to let her go.

He heard the door open. He stepped back and turned away, though he was shaking. Kiliane calmly smoothed her hair and sat down as if nothing had happened. He knew what it must look like. Who would believe that she had nearly thrown herself into his arms?

His father seated himself as if he'd seen nothing, except for the satisfied smile he wore on his face. Tam tried to keep his mind on the next case, which involved a mage, a merchant, and a pet snake that apparently wasn't as tame as it was supposed to be. He barely heard what the Protector or Lady Kiliane said because his heart pounded too loudly just thinking about what happened.

At last his father said they were done for the evening, though it was still early compared to other nights. The Protector departed, again with a smile on his face.

As soon as the door closed behind his father, Tam angrily stood up and glared at Kiliane. "If you kiss me like that again, I won't be responsible for what happens!" he said, then stalked off. Her shrill laughter echoed in his ears as he went out to his escort. It was all a game to her, nothing more. If she tried it again, he’d just push her away, no matter how warm she felt in his arms, and no matter how his body reacted. He had that much sense.

He couldn't sleep that night, as the memory of her embrace, the softness of her breasts against his chest, and touch of her lips on his kept him awake.

At last he became so weary he began to drop off anyway, when some noise came from the floor underneath the bed. It's late for even Father to be up. I wonder what's going on? He leaned down and quietly removed the panel that covered the metal grill beneath. Kiliane--her voice was unmistakable--was down there talking to someone. He had to find out what story she was telling people. Now Mauric will really hate me, unless there's some way I can convince him of the truth.

He almost banged his head on the bed when he heard what she was saying. "He didn't mean any harm, Lord Sidian. It's natural for a boy that age to be curious. Some women find it romantic to be swept into another's arms."

That's not how it happened! How dare she say that!

"Most people find it wiser to tell me the truth," his father replied. The Protector continued, and sounded tired. "I was not as far away as you think, Lady Kiliane, and I heard what both of you said. Try again."

"I beg your forgiveness, Lord Protector," she said, sounding contrite. "I did approach him first, but he certainly brought me closer! I tried to reach his mind, my lord. I did everything you said I ought to, to see if I could obey you...I wish I could, my lord, but I can't! Please, my lord, isn't there some other way?"

Tameron could have told his father how it actually was between them, though he doubted anybody would listen to him. Will I ever find someone who loves me? He was tired of offering his heart only to find it wasn't wanted.

His father was silent. Another voice spoke. "Part of the Duty may not always be pleasant," said the Guardian. "At least you can look forward to returning to your lover's arms. Not all are so fortunate."

"We can make it easier for you," his father added. "The Red Cup is said to guarantee delight with any partner. Personally, I think he deserves better than someone who's made her distaste for him so clear, but the political situation forces me to insist on it. Your family has a lot to answer for."

"No!" cried Kiliane. "The Red Cup is for whores! Please don't force me to drink it."

"I see you don't know as much about it as you think you do," the Protector said harshly. "Your mother came from Outside. I'm sure she's told you how marriages are made in her land. You ought to be grateful you have as much choice as you do. We are asking for less than a year of your life, for which you will be honored and rewarded. It's true the Duty demands far more of women. That's why men must provide a jewel of great worth or its equivalent for each child. Tameron holds title to his mother's estate in his own right, while I stand ready to fulfill the promises I've made to your family. You don't even have to see the child afterwards."

Tam grimaced. All his mother's estate, whatever that was, and he couldn't even get a pair of new boots! He wouldn't be considered an adult till his first Festival, four long months from now, and thus had no control over anything. Of course, that meant little with his father being the Protector. I'm glad I heard all this. If Kiliane pretended to change her mind, and I hadn't listened in, I’d probably believe her. At least I know that any show of affection from her after this will only be a cheat.

The thought sickened him. He was more than his evil dreams. Oh, he was angry with Kiliane after the way she'd treated him, but he couldn't take that kind of revenge.

The young woman spoke again. "Maybe you can force me into bed with your son, but you can't make me have a child! The first thing that women are taught in Wizard's College is to control our own bodies that way, no matter what our Element is!"

"Do you really think you have a choice? You know how your own family feels about this opportunity. In fact, I spoke to your uncle this morning through the glass," Lord Sidian replied. "If I must shadow your powers for the next nine months, I will."

Tameron blinked in surprised. 'Shadowing' meant a stronger wizard could neutralize her magic. She'd have as little choice in the matter as he did. In fact, she'd have less as her body grew great with child. This time he imagined her large with an infant of his making and grew queasy, unlike the joy he'd felt when he’d dreamed of Marysa that way.

Then she began to weep. Tam felt all desire for her die within him. This was just as bad as when Marysa showed him the burn that Tigran had given her for refusing to dishonor herself. He wasn't going to play this game.

He heard his father dismiss Lady Kiliane for the night, and began putting the tile back over the grill. Then he heard the Protector greet Stine, and bent back down to listen some more. What is Father going to talk to her about? I wonder if she'll say anything about what I did this morning?

At first, they discussed Lady Kiliane. "What's the rush?" Stine said. "The boy's not really of age till Midsummer. Why not let him have his first Festival with someone who doesn't hate him? The girl really loves Mauric. Maybe she won't trample your son so badly when he's a bit older."

"I wish I could," the Protector said, "but I've got problems that won't wait. You heard what my son said about corrupt mages. Imagine how the Council will react if he spouts that in their faces!"

"Yes, especially since many of them first heard it from you," murmured the Guardian.

Tam's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that—or known his aunt was there.

"I learned better," his father replied dryly. "Notice how little good it did? Some of them may know too much about my son already. How long will it take them to offer him another poisoned cup, especially when they feel threatened by his ideas?"

"Pardon me, Lord Protector, but if you explain your long-term plans to him, he'd be more willing to accept how closely we have to guard him. It's hard on the lad to be kept in the dark. Why else would he run off like that? If only you'd tell him what you told me, he'd probably be a lot more cooperative."

"I know," his father sighed. "It took him till tonight to trust me enough to wear slippers instead of those damn boots. We've got to find a way to see that everyone in Fiallyn Mor has at least some magic! Then we won't have this nonsense about mages oppressing everyone else. He's the key to it all, but not if we have to follow some obsolete tradition that didn't make sense the first time around. He has to let me protect him. The only chance for him to stay alive is to do what I tell him."

"Aren't you taking his part in all this for granted?" Stine asked. "He's shy around the lasses yet. Most of them his age are, for all their talk."

"He'll do it. The Red Cup for both of them, if necessary," said the Protector.

Once more Tameron's head ached with a memory he could not reach. Once more an ancient woman's voice chanted Run, boy, run... Why did all this feel so wrong? Maybe my fears were right, he thought, remembering being terrified of having to live all his days wondering when the next assassin might be successful. Maybe--if it's true that no magic works on me--maybe that means I won't ever be able to trust anyone. He trembled with fear. Father sent me here in the first place because he admitted he couldn't protect me in Kelemath. Even Lochil isn't safe. Stine found the guard who sold me out, but what about the next one? Oh Lord and Lady, what's going to happen to me?

I can't go back to Kelemath. He remembered the odd statement that Lorin's friend had made when he'd first come back from Aylar's cabin--'he hasn't been to Kelemath yet.' What kind of destiny means I have to sacrifice my life? Maybe Lorin and his dragon-worshippers can't be trusted if they save me only so I can die the way they want me to.

He began listening intently again when the Guardian spoke. "Haven't you told him what being immune to magic really means?"

"No, of course not!" his father said angrily. Then his voice became calmer. "I know. I've been avoiding it. All this time he wouldn't give up those boots, even though they had to hurt, because he wouldn't accept my authority. He's not going to like what he hears, and I didn't want him running off and allowing our enemies another chance to capture him for real this time."

"Isn't that part of the risk you take with your plan, my lord?" Stine asked. "If this is all true, there are reasons for those old traditions."

"If Tam isn't going to be Protector after you, and frankly, I'd rather you didn't place him in such danger," said the Guardian, "why not offer him adoption to Randor's family once he's done his Duty? He should live among ordinary people instead of be reminded of his lack every time he turns around. It's the commoners that need his blood the most."

Tameron's heart leaped in hope. Oh, what he'd give for such a haven! During the summers he'd stayed on Randor's farm, he'd always been aware of a gulf between him and all the rest, no matter how kindly they treated him. If he went back without any rank to form a barrier, they might be more of a real family to him. It hurt to realize that his father had been lying to him all along about his prospects, but it was a relief, too. Aylar, I promised you to do my best, but can't you see, I won't be allowed to live long enough to do any good! He prayed for the Protector to agree to the Guardian's proposal. Maybe that's what Lorin's friend really meant by saying I needed to return to Kelemath, he thought again, more soberly. But what good would it do if my father's enemies kill me before I do anything to help the ordinary people? Then again, maybe I'm just looking for a way out of my promise. Maybe I'm just a coward. He rubbed the thin scars on the inside of his left wrist.

"Well, at least you think he ought to do his Duty," his father said. "Which he will, starting with Kiliane. According to her, he seems to know it all even at his age."

"From what I learned from the women in Aylar's cabin, the boy was willing but never pushed harder than Marysa wished. Lady Kiliane has made her distaste extraordinarily clear, and Tameron isn't likely to believe she's changed her mind so drastically. I do hope you were joking about the Red Cup, at least for him." The Guardian sounded sure of herself.

"I wish they'd been joking about the Red Cup for me, too," the Protector said bitterly.

"He doesn't have that problem, brother, and he's much younger. The a' Sandega family has other women just as gifted as Kiliane, who aren't already in love with someone else. Why not negotiate for one of them? You know the old man doesn't really care as long as it's one of his clan involved. And then your son can go into obscurity, where he'll be much safer."

Stine interrupted. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but that won’t work. He'll be in the hills with the rest of the dragons in just a few years, or even sooner if he runs into another crooked mage. Look how long it took for you to find him, and him not really trying to hide. He's good, too. Actually managed to beat me this morning! Most of the better ones give it a try, but they don't do it very often. Your son's had training in arms from me and in strategy from Tayn. Half the guards here would follow him anywhere if he asked. If he decides to turn bandit, I don't want to have to go out against him. I'm not even sure I'd win if he were a few years older and had some good people by his side."

Tameron was startled. The commander sounded as if she was proud of him. He'd hadn’t thought about the dragons in the hills, not after Jarrett warned him off, but maybe he shouldn't have dismissed the idea so quickly.

"I could still offer the adoption to him," his father said.

He was glad he'd listened to all this. Now he knew better than to believe anything the Protector said.

"You could," the Guardian said, almost too softly for Tameron to hear. "And when he does his part, what then? Force him onto a Council who wants him dead or in their power? What happens when we pass on and can no longer protect him?"

"I could train him as my successor, Lord Protector," Stine said. "Who better to guard a child's rights than the father? You both have many good years yet. By the time his oldest grows up, they'll be used to it. He could go armed and protected wherever he went. What a waste of his talents it'd be if he lives in a cage all his life!"

"What if he's wounded, or falls ill?" the Guardian asked.

"Most of that happens out in the field, where there's damn little magic anyway, begging your pardon. And there are worse things than honorable death in battle. No mage has ever cured that one."

Tameron nearly struck his head on the underside of the bed from wonder. He'd never thought of that alternative!

"I shall consider it, Commander," Lord Sidian said wearily. "You are dismissed for now."

Tam thought they were done after Stine left. Then the Guardian said, "What do you want the boy to do? I have a right to know."

He wondered about what claim the Guardian might have, and remembered how she'd spoken of his birth. Perhaps she felt obligated to watch over him, if only a little, because she couldn’t save his mother's life when Lady Aliana was giving birth to him.

"You gave that up when you became Guardian," Lord Sidian said. "Oh, Sigi, I don't know what to do! I hate knowing he can't be Protector after me. He'd be a good one, if the Council would let him. I've tested him every way I know, and he still won't give up trying to do justice. Tam's like a plant trying to grow through rock, putting out seedlings no matter how we trample him. But the Council would pull him up by the roots."

"Most parents would consider that a healthy sign," the Guardian said. "You know how worried I was about him this winter even before he ran off. I fear you're right about the Council, though. What about Stine's plan? They might accept that, and it'd certainly be better than the only alternative I can think of."

"She's right in many ways. If Tameron saw injustice done and had no other way to correct it, he might split the country with an army under his command. I didn't know he would change so much while he was gone," his father said. "I haven't heard you offering any alternatives. I'd like to have more of them than I do now."

"We can't protect him forever, especially if Kiliane and he are forced together. She's too wise to seek revenge against you, but she might urge her family to strike at your son, if only to make sure that any child is under their influence alone. The only place he'll ever be safe is Dever Tower."

Tameron gasped. He wasn't a Blessed Mother! Nor did he ever want to be! Despite his pleasure when he heard his father praise him, he was terrified now.

"I know," the Protector said sadly. "Everything I've done was meant to keep him out of there. Even sending him to Randor's farm in the summer was planned to keep him away from nobles of his own age who might find out that no magic affects him. Oh, Lord and Lady, I should have accepted the Council's verdict as soon as it became clear he had no powers, and let him go to Randor. But he's my son, and I couldn't give him up."

"I think there's more to it than that, dear brother, but that's reason enough for now," the Guardian said. "But why can't you do what the Council wants now? If Kiliane is forced into this, she’ll never listen to you again. Why not adopt her, let her have the child she wants by Mauric, and try to find another way before Tam has no choice but to go to Dever Tower or die? Then you can return to Kelemath and give the Council what they want. Why, the old man is still here if you need him. I suspect you've been letting him stay for other reasons besides bad weather. If you'd really wanted him gone, you'd have made sure of it."

Tameron sat up too fast and banged his head on the bed frame. She must be talking about Randor! Where is he? He'd give anything to talk to his old servant again!

His father laughed harshly. "You know me too well. It's easier to keep him here than to have to haul him back if we need him to swear to anything. If I'm forced to drop Tam's claim, his family will actually care for the boy and not use him as a pawn. But I'm afraid Stine's probably right. You were the one who told me that he was actually on his way to kill Tigran when those other two men showed up suddenly."

"We both know how much that mage deserved it," the Guardian said angrily. "I wonder how long it's been since he's faced Salamander in the Fount at Diesa Tower?"

"Calm down. I've pulled his teeth. Now that the young woman he abused has wealth and rank to protect her, I suspect his life will not be terribly pleasant. And shouldn't she be the one to determine that, considering that she was the one most offended?"

The Guardian chuckled. "I bow to your superior planning, brother. However, we're forgetting why we're here. You also learned from Jarrett that Tam took his warning against joining the dragons in the hills to heart. Why not find another home for the boy before everyone knows the truth? Soon it will be much too late. In fact, we both worried that he'd either been killed or abducted because of it."

"I'm afraid it's too late already," the Protector said sadly. "Last fall when Tameron was so ill I did a Scrying. Stine knew what she was talking about. The boy won't give up. Eventually he'll decide that he can organize the dragons better than any bandit-chief. He'll be right. Stine will lose if she must fight him in the hills. I will have to destroy him myself. And if he commands the guards, we'll see civil war instead. Idiots like Lorin already think him the Lost King returned."

Mages strong in the element of air can sometimes see into the future, Tam thought, and shivered in the chill of death's shadow that seemed to hover at his side.

"Have you considered all the alternatives?"

"They were even worse. Sigi, I want him to live, but I don't know how! I thought this match might buy us some time, given the boy's youth, but Kiliane's family is insisting on it being soon. I know even better than you where that will lead. Even in Dever Tower he won't be safe from her revenge in years to come."

"If she has years to come..."

"I thought of that, too! Lord and Lady, Tameron was safer with those people in the woods, wolves and all!"

"I wish you had told me. I might not have been so diligent searching for him. We might not have found him if I hadn't suspected Tigran's complicity in the affair. A few weeks later and the boy would have been gone."

"It wouldn't matter. He regained his memory on his own after fighting the wolves. Jarrett's mind was clear on that. I used the Glass of Vision while Tam was gone, and one of the alternatives showed me his body at the bottom of Anchor Pool in Warding. I can't bear it! Wasn't it enough for me to lose all those others?" his father cried.

Tam didn't want to hear any more and replaced the tile over the grill. He'd heard the Protector agonize like this once before, when a trusted friend had proven false and Lord Sidian had been forced to execute him. He had walked into his father's quarters looking for Coris Mimn because Randor had fallen and hurt his ankle. He'd heard a little of his father's pain as Mimn tried to reassure the Protector that he'd done the right thing.

Then he remembered what else his father had said. Randor. Randor was still in the castle! He had to talk to someone about this. Stine understood hard choices, none better than she, but he needed someone who wouldn’t repeat everything to the Protector.

In the past, his servant always had a room as close to the kitchen as he could. Randor liked the warmth, and was good at charming cooks. If I can't find him, I'll speak to Stine after practice tomorrow. But I've got to try!

Tameron peered out the window. The guards of early evening were gone, replaced by a couple of sentries who huddled together for warmth. He made a mental note of it, which he'd write down later. He dressed, but now he wished he'd kept the boots. If he had to go outside, his current footwear wouldn't be much protection.

No point in trying the door. I have a guard there now, not just in the hall, and I doubt any of them bring a flask. Then he remembered how Lorin had come in. Perhaps he could use that path as well.

He looked out the window again. He was on the second level, just below the Guardian's quarters on the third. The walls in this section were studded with dragons to indicate her status. The kitchen's on the ground floor near the stables, he thought.

Tam grimaced as he removed the slippers and stockings. He'd have to go barefoot, or risk falling. Cold feet could be warmed again, but a broken neck was more permanent. If Lorin could do it, so could he.

He cut one of his shirts into wide strips. Then he took a blanket off his bed, made a hole in one corner, and hooked it around the casement lock. That'd give him something to hang onto if he fell.

The dragon Lorin had used to enter his room stuck out just above and to the left of his window. Tameron flipped one end of the longest shirt-strip over one of the hind feet, tied it to make a loop, then pulled himself up onto the dragon. The stone was terribly cold, but at least it was dry.

He panted, amazed he'd made it this far, and glanced nervously at the closest window, now at eye-level. He'd better move fast. The Guardian might retire for the night to her quarters any time.

I can't believe I'm doing this, but anything's better than sitting and waiting for death in whatever form my father's seen in his cursed Glass. Maybe this is something he never guessed I'd do! I'm sure his Scrying gave him the right answers.

It's up to me to come up with new questions.

 

Chapter 15

 

For just a moment, Tameron gazed down at the courtyard. The two guards he'd noticed before were doing their rounds as quickly as they could, undoubtedly to go back to the gatehouse to warm up again. I don't blame them. I'd better start moving before I become a statue myself.

If he had any sense he'd be asleep in his own bed. Yes, and walking blindly into a future where my father sees only my death. I've got to talk to Randor, and failing that, Stine.

There was only one dragon on the level below him, and that was to the left again. He didn't think it was near the sitting room; that was directly below his own quarters, and this statue was some distance away. He carefully walked along a narrow ledge that led to it, wincing at each step till his feet began to go numb. Fortunately most of the ice and snow on the ridge had fallen off, but it was still cold.

Once he was directly above the second stone figure, he crouched down, grasped the edge of the narrow walkway--though he gasped at how cold it felt to his hands--and let his legs slide off till he was only a short distance above the wide back of the stone beast below him.

Tam dropped the last few inches onto the sculpture, and had to grab its neck as he slipped down into a straddle position. Lucky for him he took most of the fall on his thigh. The surface was freezing even through his breeches. It knocked the wind out of him a little, but he recovered quickly, tied another strip of cloth around its neck, and scooted backwards till he reached the edging behind him.

He carefully got up and balanced himself on the narrow surface. As he made his way along the side, he peered into each window he could, and listened at those whose casements were firmly closed. After all these years, he could certainly recognize Randor's snoring.

Most of the rooms that he could see into looked like servants' quarters with two beds each. Randor usually had a whole room to himself because of his position, but that might not be true now.

Suddenly he heard noise from the level below, while windows thrown open even in this weather let heat and light escape. I must be over the kitchens now. They're probably doing the baking for tomorrow.

The next window's casement was slightly ajar. He peered into it and saw a single bed, occupied by a couple visible only by the light of a small lamp on the night-stand. He nearly fell off into the courtyard when he recognized the two graying heads murmuring endearments to each other.

No doubt the casement creaked, or he'd made a sound in his astonishment. Stine leaped to her feet and went for her sword without taking time to cover herself, while Randor dove under the bedclothes. "Who's there?" she growled, as she approached the window.

Tameron flattened himself against the wall away from the window. It was no use trying to hide, but he was so embarrassed he didn't dare look. "Pardon me, sir," he said, turning his face away as Stine opened the casement. "I was searching for Randor."

"Well, you found him!" She laughed. "I doubt you expected to find me at the same time! Two for the price of one. Now maybe the Guardian will believe me when I tell her I need to put guards on the roof to look down for burglars. The Protector has me keep such a watch on the palace in Kelemath, but the Guardian's always forbidden it here. Maybe she'll change her mind after tonight. But don't just stand there. Come in!"

Tam had trouble climbing inside while trying to avert his eyes. He finally just clambered in while pretending to ignore the whole situation. At least Stine had put a robe on by the time he was all the way inside the room. Randor was fully dressed, and his face was crimson. This wasn't quite the meeting that Tameron hoped for.

I'd better try to explain myself. I'm the one who's intruding. "Stine, I need to talk to Randor without anyone else hearing. I know you mean the best for me, but this is about matters, that I, um, I need to talk to him about." He'd never thought of Stine as a woman until a few moments ago--certainly not the way he had Marysa, or even Dorena. The flowing lines of her robe made everything different.

She shook her head and began to dress in her usual tunic and breeches. "Lad, if you're going to be a soldier, you'll have to get over blushing from a bit of skin. Why, I could relight this lamp from your face. There's not a thing you have to say that I haven't heard before."

"Probably not," he said, as his face went hotter than ever. Stine was right, of course, but he still wanted her to leave. He could tell Randor a lot more than he could possibly tell her. She's taken an oath to serve my father, and might be guilty of breaking it if she helps me.

"All right, all right, I can take a hint," the commander said with a laugh. She finished dressing and left the room.

Tameron hung back for a moment. He was too old to lean on Randor's shoulders, no matter how much he wanted to. Then the old man stood up, his arms open in greeting. Tam found himself sobbing in his servant's embrace. "I can't do it, Randor, I can't! She hates me!"

"There, there, lad, Stine told me all about it. Stand over there in the light and let me look at you properly. Blessed Lord, how you've grown!"

"I wanted to see you, but they wouldn't let me," Tam said, now ashamed he'd been so weak. Randor was right to remind him that he was nearly a man, at least in size.

"I've been penned up myself," the old man said, pacing around the room. "I told them I couldn't leave till the weather was decent. I'm glad I stalled now, especially after what I heard tonight." He smiled haggardly.

Tameron turned towards the window, where he'd entered. It was hard saying this face to face. "The commander doesn't know all of it. If I won't do it, they'll give me the Red Cup, whatever that is. Father doesn't really want me to take Stine's place or become Protector. Either I'll start a war, he believes, or I won't live long enough to do any good. He doesn't like either one, but can't think of any way out of it. Even if I go to Dever Tower he thinks his enemies will finally get me."

Randor said, "Dever Tower? After all the Protector's done to keep you out?"

Tam looked at his old servant's face. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. The first time you were sick, you were only a baby. Esa went straight to find a healer, and nearly tore Mimn to pieces when she found out you couldn't be helped. The Protector spoke to both of us, then, and explained why we had to keep it secret. Your father really hoped you'd have magic to help yourself, though. He thought that since you couldn't bear children yourself you'd have more than enough power on your own. Stine was suspicious from the beginning, with every bruise or cut you picked up in practice that had to heal on its own. The Protector wasn't the only one who got nightmares the time that bandit-lord nearly killed you! And when...when I found you in that pool of blood..." Tears ran down Randor's face. "I wondered if we'd all been wrong. Maybe we should have told you."

"And live every moment of my life in fear?" Tam asked softly. "That's the real reason I ran. Now Father thinks I might not even be safe in Dever Tower, but if I do what he wants me to, I'll only make it worse!" His voice cracked. "I don't want to die!"

Randor sat down on the bed with a stunned look on his face. "Are you sure of all this?"

"Yes. My room's right over where they met tonight. There's a grill under my bed with a tile covering it. I heard everything. Lady Kiliane was there first. If she won't do what they want, they're going to force her as well. Father said he'd shadow her powers till a child was born if he had to. She was crying when she left." He wished he could forget the sound. "She'll hate me forever. Her whole family will try to assassinate me if she dies." He didn't want to say, or even think, or if Father has her killed. He desperately hoped that wasn't what the Protector had meant by the phrase 'if she lives...'. He continued speaking. "Then Stine was there. You probably know that part. After she was dismissed, it was just the Protector and the Guardian. She tried to speak up for me, but it didn't do any good. I have to find a way out, Randor. I can't just sit here waiting for them to decide whether they'd rather have me penned up or force me to be a target."

"I just have a hard time believing it," Randor said. "It's not like your father to give up. He spent all this winter taking the country apart stone by stone, looking for you!"

"I wish I'd stayed lost," Tam said. If Father was right, I probably would have died that way, too. He looked out the window. Wasn't there any other alternative? "I've been kept a prisoner since I got back."

"The guards are for your protection," Randor said. "You know your father's enemies have tried to kill you twice."

"And which ones are taking money, like Gerad? Whatever happened to him, anyway?"

"Oh, lad, you don't want to know. The girl turned out to have no idea what was going on beyond what she said before, but she was just the bait. Once your father was done with Gerad, the man didn’t know his own name any more. Before he stopped being able to talk, though, he spilled everything. The man who paid him was long gone by that time, and so were you. Now do you see why we feared the worst when you disappeared? We thought you dead, or locked up someplace."

"I suppose that's why I can't even get a pair of new boots," Tameron grumbled, as he bowed his head.

"Most people don't go climbing the walls in their bare feet, I must admit." Randor said. "Let me take a look at them. They must be frozen!"

Tam showed him the red marks turning into darker bruises along the sides and tops of his feet, as well as the raw places on his ankles. "I held onto my old ones as long as I could, and then I just gave up," he said. What Randor didn't know about Lorin wouldn't hurt him. "And slippers don't help much on walls."

"I'll have a word with the boot maker right off!" the old man said indignantly.

"Father was there first," Tameron said. "I already asked for a new pair, or one ready-made close to my size. The cobbler said it was the Protector's command that he couldn't help me. Father doesn't know what to do with me, but he's not going to let me have any say in it. If he would just talk to me…there has to be a way.”

"Tam, sit down here," Randor said, looking older than ever.

He complied, suddenly feeling weary. "What am I going to do?" He asked softly. "Is there any way you can help me?"

"No," the servant said. Randor looked defeated. "Play for time, lad. Do what your father wants you to. Let yourself be taken to Dever Tower. If there's anybody who can find a way out of it, it's you. If you want to survive, you've got to be willing to do anything."

Tameron slumped as he sat on the bed, then straightened as he thought of something, sparked by a case he'd read in one of his law books. "At Midsummer I'll be considered an adult," he said. "If I can drag things out till then, I'll ask to be set aside and adopted by a family of ordinary people because of my lack of powers. Maybe the Council doesn't know for sure that spells don't work on me."

"I think some of them do, lad. But you'd have to get before the Council to ask for your freedom. The Protector will hardly agree to that."

"I won't petition him. I'll lay it directly before them one way or another. If they don't want me on it, then they'll agree. I'll pledge my word to support my father's heir, even Lady Kiliane," he said. "I'll be outside the succession altogether. Why should anyone care about me then? That should change at least one of the futures that Father saw for me."

Randor still didn't look happy. "What makes you think you have till Midsummer, lad?" he asked. "I wish you could do what the Protector wants voluntarily. I know you think it's wrong to, to, act that way--"

"It's called rape, Randor," Tam said. "I'd be no better than Tigran. You probably heard what he tried to do to Marysa, but in case you didn't, he tried to use his powers to force her."

"What do you think the Wizard's College does to mages who refuse a partner they've picked out?" his servant said. "Those who care only for their own gender face this all the time. That's where the Red Cup comes in. Tam, do what your father asks. That potion's dangerous, especially for you!"

"What is it?" Tameron asked, feeling chills go down his back. By now he thought he knew, but why would it be perilous?

"It's a drug to help mages who have used their powers too much or are too old to be any good in bed. For men, anyway. It doesn't hurt women, or so I've been told. But a lad like you, with no real magic, shouldn't go near the stuff. Even with ordinary men who are old or who don't have much interest, it just puts back what ought to be there. But I heard of a fellow in Kelemath who bought some because he was tired out and wanted to impress his new lady. After he did some things you're too young to hear about, he was finally declared soulless by the mages."

Tameron had heard about the Bog Butcher three years ago, and wondered if it was the same man. He knew the soulless were always put to death. He'd read in his law books that they knew no law or will besides their own, and were often discovered after committing crimes that showed they believed no one was truly real save for themselves.

Other illnesses of the mind such as visionlust or greatfear could be cured by someone as skilled as the Guardian or Coris Mimn, but not this one. Only death could banish the demons who moved into the empty space vacated by a spirit which had fled.

"What do you think the Red Cup would do to me?" Tam whispered. He'd rather be dead than lose himself that way. Yet he couldn't force himself on Kiliane, not even to save his life.

Randor shook his head and shuddered. "Do what your father says, lad. After all, the girl's a mage. If she wants the power your father's offering her so badly, she should be willing to pay the price."

“You didn't hear her crying, Randor,” he said. Then he suddenly knew what he must do. Even dying up in the hills as a bandit was better than this. Maybe Jarrett was right about what a waste of time it was, but it didn't matter now. He must escape, and soon. A good thing Stine wasn't here. She probably got sick of looking for me this winter! "Randor," he asked, "could your farm use another hand?"

The old man sat down and put his face into his hands. "The Lord and Lady forgive me, you can't go there. My place will be the first one they check if you go missing again. My whole family will be at risk. Everything I've done for you has been for them."

And not for me. He felt cold and remote now. In his heart, Esa and Randor had been his real parents. Now he saw where he really stood. At least Dorena had been willing to argue with the Guardian for his sake, while Randor only urged him to obey his father. "You're right, of course," he said faintly. There was no use saying more.

The old servant looked up. "Lad, if there's some other way I can help, I'll do my best. But I've got to look out for my kin, too. I found out just how much all my years of service counted while you were gone, Tam." He sounded bitter.

Perhaps with good reason, he thought absently. "I hope my father has rewarded you for your great sacrifice," he said tonelessly. "It must have been hard to give up your real family for me." He wished he could have bitten the words back as soon as he'd said them, when he saw how hurt Randor looked.

"I know how this looks. I don't blame you for being unhappy." The old man approached him with open arms.

Tam stood up from the bed and moved away. "This is my life, Randor. I learned to value it while I was gone. But Kiliane is a person, not just some girl. She's in love with someone else. Doing--doing what my father says is too high a price. Enough of that and I'll become soulless even without the Red Cup.

"Fortunately, I may be spared that choice. Apparently I'm doomed no matter what I do. Who knows, the Protector might be right about that. The next time his enemies strike will probably be my last. And in Dever Tower I suspect I won't have any choices at all. There is no place for me in Fiallyn Mor." He bowed his head. Oh, Aylar, I hate to break my promise to you. But it's obvious they'll never let me be anything but a prisoner.

He took a deep breath. He didn't want to lie to his servant, even a little, but it might help both of them. "Randor," he said softly, "what's the easiest way to get to Warding?"

The old man's face lightened. "Return to Kelemath first, and head west. Oh, lad, they dredge bodies out of the Anchor Pool every month."

"I know." Tam remembered his father claiming to see his own among that number. "But not as many as go in, right?"

"No. They're probably stuck in the mud below."

"Or they could be free." Tameron looked out of the window again. "Please…please hide my armor in the stables, but only if you can do it without Stine becoming suspicious. Remember the chestnut mare I was riding the day I got lost? If she's still there, put the stuff in her stall. If I have the right gear, I can pose as one of the guards there by the Pool long enough to try going in. The weight will take me straight to the bottom, where Shapechanger is said to live. If there's nothing but mud, I'll have a knife with me and cut the straps before I drown. Remember how long it took the Guardian to find me. If I can't get to Warding, I can stay gone till Midsummer. Or maybe forever. The dragons in the hills can probably use another sword."

Randor slowly nodded, his face a mask of grief. "It's damned little. I can manage that much."

"I hope your family appreciates what you've done for them," Tameron said, as he finally embraced the man who'd been more of a father to him than his own. "I just wish I had one, too."

"Wait, you can't go out there like that. Your feet are still like ice," Randor said. "Take a pair of my boots."

"And where do I put them when I get back to my quarters? You'll get in trouble, and they'll take them away if I go someplace without them." He swallowed back tears. "I'll steal a pair the next time I go to drill. Oh, Randor, this has to be good-bye. I don't know if I'll ever see you again." Tears ran down his face then as he couldn't hold them back any more.

"And may the Single Star guide you to safety," the old man said gently, patting him on the shoulder.

"I hope something does!" Tam said wryly. Then he tore himself away. The night was passing quickly, and he dare not be gone from his room when the guards looked in on him at daybreak.

He climbed back on the ledge and took his makeshift shirt-rope off the dragon on the second level. He was a fool to leave such an obvious trail. He had to watch where he stepped. His feet were going numb again from the cold stone, so it was difficult to feel his way.

He walked carefully to the right of the dragon. I wish the ledge went all the way to my room. How am I going to get to another level? It's a lot easier coming down than going up. I wish there was another dragon here.

Tam saw the solution as he came to the gap. It was too wide for him to jump, but if he backtracked to the corner behind him, he could climb up or down on the jutting stones that formed a zigzag pattern there. He could just guess what Stine probably thought of that arrangement, if she worried about thieves. In fact, he should have come down from the third level at the corner anyway, rather than jumping down onto the second-level dragon from the edge above. He'd remember that next time.

He went back past Randor's now-closed casement to the corner, clambered up as quietly as he could, and then walked along the ledge above towards the Guardian's quarters. Once he made it to the dragon nearest her window, he could hang onto both the strip he'd left and the blanket dangling outside his window.

He approached the area cautiously. Despite the care he took, he couldn't help stumbling as he scraped his toes against the side and discovered his right foot wasn't as numb as he'd thought.

The casement slowly swung open. Tam flattened himself against the wall and hastily stuffed the linen strip from the first dragon into his tunic.

It didn't do any good. "Tameron? Are you all right?" asked the hooded figure looking out the window.

"Yes, my lady," he said with a sigh. He walked into her line of sight to prove it. She might call for the guards or his father otherwise. "I was tired of being penned up in my room." He had to keep her from making a fuss. He'd never escape if the walls and roofs were watched.

Then he stepped out onto the dragon. He could stand there, as the back was quite wide.

He looked out over the courtyard. Lochil was surrounded by fog on the lower levels. It must have moved in while he was in Randor's room. In fact, the whole scooped-out basin that held Kadramas Lake was full of white cloud, like a mattress.

"That's quite far enough," the Guardian said.

"Of course, my lady," he said. Tam felt dizzy for a moment, and decided he'd be safer sitting down. He straddled the statue as if it were a horse. It was like being on an enormous ship adrift on a pale sea. The dragon's back felt almost warm, as if it were alive and straining to fly. He smiled at himself then. Riding on the back of a dragon...if only they were real!

"You heard everything, I suppose," his aunt said.

"Enough," he said. He stroked the dragon's stony head. "How will I die, I wonder? Or will I simply be a prisoner all my life? Father sees no way out, and neither do I."

"Come inside," she ordered sharply. "It's too cold out there for us to talk like this. You're shaking like a leaf. I don't want to call the guards. It'd only make things worse."

She was right. He was feeling odd now, as if the cold had crept into his brain. He could swing down into his room with the shirt-piece he'd left around the dragon's hind foot, but decided it was better to obey, if only for now.

Tam slowly began to stand again, though his head swam. I'd better crawl, he thought vaguely, and went back down on his hands and knees. Somehow he made his way close enough to the window to feel the Guardian's arms helping to guide him inside. He collapsed on the floor as his legs suddenly refused to support him. At least it's warm in here. Apparently the climb to and from Randor's room had taken more out of him than he thought.

"Sit up," the Guardian snapped.

He reluctantly obeyed, and gratefully drank the hot cup of tea she gave him. With that inside, he had enough strength to get to a chair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to almost knock you down."

"I've put this off long enough," she said. As he watched, she left the room, came back with a basin of water and placed it on the floor. "Put your feet in. There's no point talking to you till you're not so frozen."

He gritted his teeth and obeyed, knowing full well what it'd be like. At first he couldn't speak for the pain that shot through his feet from the scrapes and the sharp pangs of thaw, even though the water was probably only lukewarm. After a few moments, though, he began to relax. He was surprised when his teeth suddenly began chattering from the chills that racked him.

"Here, have some more tea," the Guardian said. "What in the world possessed you to go out there barefoot?"

"No boots. The stone is too slick for slippers," Tam said, after the hot liquid warmed him.

"I told my brother that it was a stupid idea to hobble you like that. And you're obviously just as stubborn as he is." She sighed from behind her drooping hood.

"I'm feeling better now, my lady. May I leave?" He could make the climb down to his window much more easily now.

"No. You sent me a note asking if you might speak with me a while back. I haven't forgotten."

"I can't do it!" he blurted out. "She hates me! And the Red Cup will turn me into a monster!"

"Things haven't gone that far yet," she said. "You have choices you don't know about."

"What, like becoming a Blessed Mother? So I trade one set of rooms for another. What a wonderful destiny."

"Some men would find no trouble living with that one," she said. "Any partner you like, any time you wish! It'd be like Festival, only all year round. I can even name a few women who wouldn't mind that one themselves. I see you didn't read that part of the book I left you."

"And how many partners who cry because they're in love with someone else?" he asked softly.

"But there are no privileges without a price," the Guardian said, "no matter what some mages think. Kiliane wants to be Protector someday, with no idea of the sacrifices her predecessor has made. Shouldn't she be willing to give up something to get what she wants?"

"All that means is that she still has a heart left!" Tameron argued passionately. " I can't pretend I never heard her talk about Mauric, or never heard Mauric talk about her. Why should I make the sacrifice of my heart and freedom for a privilege I don't want?"

"Oh, Tam. If you were listening, and I hoped you would, then you also heard your father talk about the need to see that the common people also have some magic. You're the key to that plan. If you had read that book at all, you would have learned that all your children will have powers no matter who the mother might be. There's a strong possibility that some of them will have the same ability to pass their powers on. Think of it, a Fiallyn Mor where the mages can no longer act with arrogance for fear of retribution by those they rule, and where the Duty has been reduced to two children, not four, because magical power can be passed on more easily. A lot of women would certainly thank you for that!"

He shook with fear. Now even the Guardian was urging him on. "I remember one thing I read," he said. "The Council always chooses the partners for the Blessed Mother, not the Protector. Maybe that's the real reason he wanted to hide me."

"No! It wasn't like that!" she protested. "You don't know how a Blessed Mother is treated from the moment she's discovered, especially if she's only a child at the time. Both of us wanted you to grow up less of a prisoner, though it's harder for you now because of that. But now your secret is out. Your father received a message from the Council just an hour ago, demanding your return. They've opened Dever Tower and have begun preparations for your stay there."

He could almost hear the sound of a door closing behind him, a door that would never be opened again. "What...what should I do?" he asked hoarsely. "I can't do what Father wants me to. It's wrong."

"Tameron, you can't imagine how proud of you I am to hear you say that. But sometimes you have to think of yourself first. You're too young to have to face the Red Cup, but I doubt one dose would harm you. It only brings out what's truly inside a person."

He was appalled. Would the drug force him to act the way he sometimes did in dreams? How could he hurt Kiliane, knowing how she really felt about him?

"There isn't much time left to think about it, Tam," she said. "Both our calendar and Kiliane's only have a few days left. If you can bring yourself to cooperate, it's possible we can find a way out for you. If you delay, you'll only go inside Dever Tower all the sooner."

Suddenly he was so dizzy with weariness he couldn't think. "I don't know..." he said. He'd thought that the Guardian, of all people, would understand.

"I know it's not fair," she said softly. "That's why we have the Festival, so mages and ordinary people alike can choose for themselves at least once a year. You won't even have that inside the Tower."

"You said that no matter what you'd help me have the person I truly loved by my side...what woman would ever put up with me having to bed so many others, let alone share my imprisonment?"

"I know. That's why you must do as your father says. It's your only chance."

"Why can't he find a way without that?"

"He needs a child to continue his line. I don't think you realize how old we are, Tam. You are our last hope. If he finds a way for you to escape Dever Tower, he won’t be forced to acknowledge any others you might have."

Tameron could barely contain his anger. Is this how Marysa felt when Tigran told her to sell herself to the travelers at the inn? No wonder she fought so hard to escape him. He had to hide his rage, though, or he'd never have a chance. He bowed his head. "I can't decide right now!" he said. "You said we had a few days. Let me have at least one of them."

"Of course," the Guardian said. She went to another room and said, undoubtedly to a servant or guard, "Go to Lord Tameron's room and bring a pair of stockings and a set of slippers. He's been here with me tonight by my request."

He discovered he was relieved that he didn’t have to go out onto the dragon and climb down into his window. It didn't take long for the stockings and slippers to come, though he objected when the Guardian began placing them on his feet herself. "I can manage," he said.

"It's nearly morning," she said. "Go back to bed and sleep. I'll count this as your study for today. I am glad you were sensible enough to use the grill to listen, though. I gave you that room because I hoped you would. It’s not right for you to go into this through deception.”

He stood up and bowed to her, then wished he hadn't as he nearly fell over from exhaustion. The guards outside said nothing as usual, but took him down the stairs to his quarters.

Once they were gone, he forced himself to stay awake. He might not have much time. Does my father really have a plan, or is he just pretending so I'll cooperate?

Tameron lit a lamp at his study table and got out the storybook with the guard routines on the back flyleaf. After a moment's thought, he pulled out one of his books that had a decent map. Trying to make Warding will be dangerous, especially if they question Randor when I disappear. Besides, Father might be right about the Anchor Pool. But if they're looking for me in the west, will be they look as hard in other directions? And why do people always talk about Warding? Is that the only way out of Fiallyn Mor?

He looked at the map again. Desert lay to the south and east. The mountains of Athlath were to the north. If Mauric was like other people in that country, he could manage. A good thing he'd asked Randor to fetch his armor. He might need it if he went into service to some lord there. He'd ask for Lord Duven if he could find anyone to understand him.

I'm a lot better than Mauric, and I should be able to find a place somewhere. How do I escape to the other side of Wizardwall? Most spells don't affect me, but it takes having magic to go through the Wall. Then he how noticed the Penwa River flowed from the northwest into Fiallyn Mor. Was the Wall weaker there? Perhaps water changed the shape of the magic and made it easier to get through there. Maybe that was why Warding was a favorite crossing spot.

Tam sighed. The river looked like his best chance. The longer he was gone before reaching an opening somewhere, the more likely they'd find him first. Whoever 'they' might be. If some other family captured him, he might wish he'd gone to Dever Tower.

Bitterness overwhelmed him as he went to bed. He glanced at the small shrine. It was so late that the last rays of moonlight slanted down on the figures of the Lord and Lady. He shook his head in dismissal. They were generous only to mages.

Then he remembered how Dorena had found comfort telling her troubles to the icons in one of her darkest hours. Why not give it a try? So what if stories of Their intervention were only tales for children?

Tameron knelt before the images of the Lord and Lady. He silently prayed to live, and to be free without doing evil as the price. "Help me to protect Kiliane from my father's plans," he murmured. She was as frightened as he was, and with more cause. Some women still died in childbirth, even if they were mages and had healers to attend them. Like his mother. How much worse could it be for Kiliane, bearing a child she never wanted? His stomach roiled at the thought of touching her now.

"And help protect me," he begged quietly, gently tapping his fingers in the Great Supplication. He might as well ask for everything he wanted, no matter how impossible. "Don't let them force me into this. I don't want to be a beast. And...and please, please, help me find someone who cares for me. Is that too much to ask?"

Suddenly he felt lighter, as if he'd lugged a heavy burden but had finally dropped it off.

He looked out the window one last time. The sky was beginning to lighten to the east. Soon they'd be coming with the breakfast tray.

What's that? he wondered, watching a winged shape fly north. It was too late for some birds to be out, but the bird looked like, a night-pale owl with wings like sails heading straight for Neyarmie Isle.

He laughed out loud as he realized what he was looking at. It wasn't water that made the opening. Warding was one of the anchor points for Wizardwall! Why, the name 'Anchor Pool' should have told him that.

Of course no one fled any other way. Diesa Tower, the home of Salamander, was surrounded by desert and flame. The Mastersmith was the only commoner allowed inside, and that was only because no mage could forge iron. Mount Shiast, where Arial lived, was almost impossible to climb, though it had been done. Only desert lay to the south. Neyarmie Isle, in the middle of Kadramas Lake, was also an anchor point--for the Earth spirit that most called the Giant.

The Guardian had said he should visit the place where he'd been born a few months ago. He thought he'd take her up on her kind invitation very soon. He yawned, made a grateful bow to the corner shrine, and lay down on his bed.

He knew what to do, if only he was given the time.

 

Chapter 16

 

Tameron woke up, and jumped to his feet as soon as he saw how late it was by the slant of light through his window. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked the guard outside his door. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"The Guardian's servant told us to let you rest," the fellow said. "We were told the mistress had you up till dawn. Shall I send for a tray?"

"Yes!" He'd missed both breakfast and the mid-day meal, and his stomach didn't want to wait till evening. Tam regretted sleeping through drill--he wouldn't have a chance at a pair of the practice boots till tomorrow--but he couldn't do anything about it now.

While he waited for the food, he decided he'd better pick what he needed if he had to escape in a hurry. Tameron wished he could bundle it together, but the servants would notice that and tell his father. At least this way he'd remember where everything was if he had to move fast.

A good thing he had more than one cloak. The thin black one would make a good carryall till he reached the stables. I'll wear my thick winter one, but if I turn it inside out, no one will see the fancy beadwork on the collar or the edge. Fortunately, the lining was dark blue.

Tam looked at his shirts. The servants had left a few of his old ones, which hung side by side with the new. I'd better take a couple of the ones I've outgrown. The sleeves are too short, but the buttons on those look valuable. I learned all about being poor this winter. He found his one good necklace, took it out of its box, and put it underneath one of the older shirts on a hook in the closet. He didn't want to waste time looking for it later. Who knew how quickly he might have to move?

The tray came and he ate heartily. He wished someone had returned his woodworking tools, the ones that Randor had given him. A thief might take his weapons or the necklace, but if he only had the tools he could make his living anyway. It doesn't matter. If I have to, I'll sweep the stables somewhere or chop wood till I can earn enough to buy more. Aylar and his family survived losing nearly everything, and so can I.

If only I had the Jewel that my father should have given my mother at my birth. It hurt just thinking about it. Why, he was no better off than young Jorry that way!

That doesn't matter. At least not as much as making sure I don't die or get chained up in Dever Tower.

He looked around at his quarters, as if saying good-bye. The place seemed smaller than ever. On impulse he picked out the little spell book that had started all his troubles, and put it in the pocket of his good winter cloak. After a moment's thought, he added the children's storybook. The notes I made inside might be useful.