Maggie Furey - Aurian

Miathan handed her a brimming crystal goblet. “Come, Meiriel, don’t be foolish,” he chided. “Since we received your message, Eliseth has been helping me to make plans. If what you say is true, Geraint’s child has talents we can use, and will need very special handling. I should hardly have to remind you that we need the utmost loyalty from all our people these days. The Magefolk have dwindled. Our powers are severely proscribed by the Mages’ Code, and dissension against us among the wretched Mortals grows ever stronger. I still control the Garrison’s voice on the ruling Council of Three, but Rioch will be retiring before long, and there is no suitably accommodating successor among his warriors. And the new Merchants’ Representative, that jumped-up ruffian Vannor, is already giving me trouble.”

The Archmage frowned, and took a sip of wine. “Because a Magewoman loses her powers during pregnancy, our race has always been slow to breed, and no new children are being born to us. We’re seriously outnumbered by the Mortals. Not counting Eilin, who refuses to return to us, that only leaves seven Magefolk: you and I, Eliseth and Bragar, the twins, and Finbarr. And of those, the twins seem unable to access their full power, and Finbarr never leaves his archives—no offense, Meiriel. I know he’s your soul mate, and I regret that we can’t spare your Healing skills long enough for you to lose them during a pregnancy. And of course we can’t spare Eliseth, for the same reason. Her studies are at a critical point—”

“Otherwise, of course, I would be happy to make the sacrifice,” Eliseth interjected smoothly. Meiriel bit back a sarcastic retort. Liar, she thought. All you want is power. You’d be quick enough to bear Miathan’s child, if he asked you. She turned back to the Archmage. “What has this to do with Aurian?” she asked. “You surely don’t expect her to breed you some new Magefolk? The child is barely fourteen!”

Miathan assumed a patient expression, looking at the Healer over his steepled hands. “My dear Meiriel,” he said suavely, “what a suggestion! Of course I don’t expect such a thing. Not yet, at any rate. But we must take the long view here. She will not be fourteen forever. And if, as you say, her powers may range over the entire spectrum, then they must be passed on for the benefit of our race. In the meantime, however, I was thinking of our precarious position among the Mortals. If word should be passed that we have a new Mage—one whose powers are, shall we say, spectacular—then they might think twice before crossing us. After all, they’ve already had an example of what her father can do.”

“That’s appalling, Miathan! It’s completely immoral!” Meiriel exploded. “The Mages’ Code expressly forbids the use of magic to gain power over others.”

“Of course it does, my dear.” Miathan’s voice was melodious and smooth. “But if you check the wording carefully, Meiriel, it says nothing about people believing that a Mage might use his powers against them. If the Mortals should happen to get hold of such an outlandish notion, then it would hardly be our fault, would it?” he said with a shrug.

“That’s pure sophistry, and you know it! You’re coming perilously close to breaking your vows under the Code, Miathan, and you’ll take us all to perdition with you,” Meiriel warned. “Do you plan to corrupt the child, too?”

Eliseth shrugged her elegant shoulders. “Surely you’re overreacting,” she said silkily. “After all, this is pure conjecture on the part of the Archmage. All he cares about at present is helping the child, and winning her trust. Who knows what nonsense Eilin and that uncouth Mortal have been putting into her head? You know how hard our training is, and the girl is starting late. She’ll lack discipline, I daresay, so there will be some difficult times ahead of her. The last thing we want is for her to end up resenting the Magefolk—after all, we are her people. So Miathan and I have thought of a way to deal with the problem. We only have her welfare at heart—you’ll see, Meiriel.”

“Indeed she will,” Miathan said heartily. “Meiriel, tomorrow morning you will turn Aurian over to Eliseth. After that, your part in this matter is over for the time being, and you’ll leave the rest to us. Stay away from the child, and don’t interfere.”

“But—” Meiriel protested unhappily.

Miathan’s face grew stony. “That is a direct order from your Archmage, Meiriel. You may go now.”

Aurian disliked Eliseth on first sight. Although her face was flawlessly beautiful and her silver hair flowed right down to her feet like a shimmering waterfall, the Magewoman’s smile never reached her gray eyes, which were hard and cold as steel. She led Aurian to the chamber that would be her own—a tiny whitewashed cell on the ground floor of the Mages’ Tower. Furnished with the barest simplicity, it contained a narrow bed, a table and chair, and shelves and a chest for her possessions and clothes.

Aurian had no possessions to arrange. Apart from the clothes she stood in, all she had was her sword. When Eliseth saw it, she frowned. “You can’t keep that,” she said flatly. “It’s much too dangerous for a young girl. Give it to me.” She reached for the sword.

In a flash Aurian had the blade unsheathed, as Forral had taught her. “Don’t you touch my sword,” she warned. Eliseth’s eyes narrowed, and she made a peculiar, twisting little gesture with her left hand. Aurian gasped as a chill, translucent blue cloud surrounded her. She couldn’t move! Her body was frozen rigid. Icy cold seemed to burn into her very bones.

Eliseth swooped down and plucked Coronach from Aurian’s unresisting grasp, then stood looking coldly down on her. “Listen to me, brat,” she hissed. “While you are in this place, you’ll learn discipline and obedience—especially obedience to me—or you’ll suffer the consequences! Now I’m going to find the seamstress to measure you for some decent clothes, and as a punishment for your appalling behavior, you can remain like that until I return.”

She swept out, taking the sword with her and leaving Aurian still frozen in position, unable even to weep. Although she was seething with hatred for the cold-eyed Eliseth, the lesson had left its mark. Aurian had already learned to fear her.

Later that day, Eliseth showed her subdued and unhappy charge around the Academy. There was a good deal to see. The promontory was shaped like the broad blade of a spear, with its point cut off in a gentle curve by the high wall that surrounded the drop on all sides. The main entrance gate stood at the place where the haft of the spear would be joined, with a small gate-house to its left-hand side. Below the gate, the steep road up which Aurian had climbed the previous day zigzagged down to the causeway, with its lower gatehouse.

The buildings all faced on to a central, oval-shaped courtyard designed in a mosaic pattern with colored flagstones. In the center, an elegant fountain sang a soothing, bubbling song as it flung feathery arcs of water into a white marble basin. To the left of the gatehouse was Meiriel’s small infirmary, and next to this were the kitchens and servants’ quarters which adjoined the Great Hall with its soaring arched windows. Beyond, where the wall curved round to cut off the end of the promontory, stood the elegant and^lpfty Mages’ Tower, where the Magefolk dwelt. Opposite the tower on the other side of the curve was the huge library with its complex, convoluted architecture. And beyond this, curving back toward the gate, were the buildings designed for the study of the individual disciplines of magic, dominated by the massive white weather dome whose outline was visible for miles around.

All the buildings, down to the gatehouse and the humble servants’ quarters, were constructed of dazzling white marble that seemed to be imbued with its own internal, pearly glow. It was breathtakingly beautiful—and Aurian, scared and homesick as she was, hated it. All the same, she marveled at the great library with its priceless archives, the open rooftop temple on top of the Mages’ Tower with its great standing stones, and the imposing Great Hall, which stood mostly unused now that the Magefolk were so few in number.