Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

"What do you mean?"

"I can teach you. Become my apprentice; come with me into the hills."

Alemar began to tremble. Elenya understood every bit of his turmoil.

"I am a prisoner here," he said desperately.

Gast frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean, but rest assured – no one in this land interferes with the prerogatives of a Hab-no-ken. If I decide to take you with me, only the word of the High Scholar could stop me."

That had done it, Elenya realized. Alemar choked short his reply, almost to tears. She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him toward the exit. "Excuse us," she told Gast. "My brother and I have to talk."

They walked away from the tent, ignoring the glances from nearby tents, and of the children in the area who had collected in hopes of seeing the Hab-no-ken. They spoke in Cilendri, Alemar unable to keep the quaver out of his voice.

"You have to go," she insisted.

"How can I?" he croaked. "I couldn't leave you here."

In truth, the thought of living alone among the tribe terrified her, but she stifled her own desires. "You know what this would mean to you. When will you get an opportunity like this again?"

He sighed. "Mother is dead. I can't save her after the fact."

Elenya knew Alemar was not as reconciled as he was pretending to be. He wanted to go, but he was afraid. What if he succeeded in learning the Greater Art? Lerina would still be dead. It had been a comfort of sorts to believe that nothing could have saved her. He would lose that buffer if he went. If Elenya didn't do something to jolt him, he would rationalize himself into staying. The fact was that she could survive without him. She had to think.

It came to her.

She pressed close to him, activating the amulets. She bespoke him with all the force she could muster. "Hab-no-ken complete their training in Setan."

He hesitated, shocked. He understood.

"I can continue with our original plan by myself," she said. "That way, we will double our chances of getting there."

He nodded, the light of excitement growing in his pupils. She had eliminated his dilemma in the most straightforward way she knew – she had made it his duty to go with the healer. By his expression she knew she had done the right thing.

Now all she had to do was reconcile herself to the consequences.

"No," Lonal said.

"You have no choice," Gast said. He held up Alemar's wrist, around which was tied a piece of green cloth. "I exercise the right ofHab-shah. He is no longer T'lil. He belongs to all Zyraii."

A small crowd had gathered. There were murmurs. It had been decades since any of the clan had been selected to become a Hab-no-ken. It had never happened to an adult.

"Silence!" Lonal shouted.

He was obeyed. He continued to the healer, "This man has designs to reach Setan."

Gast shrugged. "Then he shall succeed, should he complete his apprenticeship. I will not permit him near the sacred grounds unless it is clear to me that he will do them no harm. In any event, it is my responsibility now, not yours."

Lonal was adamant. "He is Po-no-pha. You propose to take a warrior and transform him into the very opposite of what he has been?"

"God makes those choices," Gast said. "Tebec has the gift. Whatever else he has done with his life, it would be a crime to let that talent be squandered."

"He can serve the tribe well just as he is."

Gast smiled, unintimidated. "Do you challenge thelaw, war-leader?"

Lonal was silent. Some of the observers held their breath. No one within the tribe, short of the Bo-no-ken, would have dared challenge the war-leader in such a manner.

"No, I didn't think so," Gast said presently.

Lonal turned to Alemar. "You will abandon your brother?"

"I don't wish to. But I will."

Elenya swallowed hard.

Lonal muttered under his breath. "I underestimated your resourcefulness. Very well, then, you will go."

"Thank you, war-leader," Gast said pleasantly.

Lonal stared at Alemar. "I should have dueled you," he said.

Elenya waited while her brother and the Hab-no-ken returned to the tent to prepare for the journey. Omi followed behind Alemar, a stricken, plaintive look on her face. Lonal watched them as well, and it was only after they were out of sight that he noticed Elenya.

"I could be gone, too," she said, using the High Speech. "If Tebec could find a way out of your web, so can I. Then where would you be?"

"I don't follow you," Lonal said.

"You want something from us, but you've never offered anything in return."

"What you want is impossible for me to give."

"Setan?" she asked. She knew she could get him on the defensive. Someone had to bear the brunt of the loss she felt. "Ah, but look at what just happened. My brother has found a way there. Surely you're not so uninspired that you can't think of another. Be creative. How couldI be allowed in Setan, and still obey your precious laws?"

"You were born an infidel. It would be a crime merely to let you near the holy grounds. Unless…"

"Yes?"

Lonal scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Some dispensation might be made…if you werehai-Zyraii."

"Go on."

"In that event, it would be permissible to take you to the site. Once there, you could petition the ken to let you enter the boundary. I cannot promise that they would do so."

"If I agree to help you, will you do this?" she demanded.

He paused. "Yes," he said finally, with conviction. It satisfied her. Lonal was a man of his word, if nothing else. "But becoming hai-Zyraii may not be as simple as you think."

"I'll find a way," she replied.

KERON FELT FOOTFALLS BEHIND HIM. He turned. The elderly figure in embroidered robes smiled.

"My lord king," Keron said, bowing his head.

Pranter, rightful king of Elandris, joined his cousin. His Majesty was now one hundred five years of age, an occurrence remarkable not so much because of the sheer number of years he had lived, but because of the war and attempted assassinations he had lived through in order to get there. He still stood straight, pupils bright, voice authoritative, a living tribute to the skill of the best healer/sorcerers in the known lands. He had been the pillar of the resistance that had held Gloroc at bay for decades. He might die soon, but no one doubted that he would face death as stubbornly as he had Elandris's great enemy.

"Come to watch your boy?" the king said cheerfully.

"Yes," Keron replied. "However, I have been standing too long. Why don't we move to the gallery?"

Keron and Pranter ambled slowly up the shallow steps of the amphitheater, to one of the seats reserved for the king. Below, on the polished marble floor, the chief wizards of Elandris conducted their tests. Once each year, members of the royal family collected in this hall – never too many at the same time, for that would tempt assassins of the Dragon – to bring forth the talismans left by their revered ancestor, Alemar Dragonslayer. Even as he walked, Keron kept his eyes on the activities. The talismans included his belt, and at the moment, one of his younger cousins was wearing it, trying to lift weights. Keron still vividly remembered his sixteenth year, when suddenly the massive iron barbells had risen in his arms like a basket of cotton. He was the first in three generations to be able to activate its magic.

"Val's a capable young man," Pranter said, nodding toward the lean, dark-haired youth waiting his turn at the weights. The king had difficulty getting into his seat, which Keron tactfully ignored. Pranter was proud and never enjoyed having to be helped. "Though the four winds know if he will have the gift."

Their banter was informal, this being one of those rare times when they could speak freely. Only the wizards and the sons of Alemar entered this place. It was the family's sanctum, and only they would know the results of the tests undertaken this day.