Samuel turned and quietly strode from the chamber. The men did not make a sound as he left.
As he ventured home and was making his way along Kumbin Street, Samuel nearly bumped straight into someone standing directly in his path.
‘Excuse me,’ Samuel said, before noticing with a start that it was the magician from the Circle of Eyes who had visited him twice before in the School of Magic. Samuel was surprised to see the man in the open and in clear daylight.
‘You should keep your eyes open, Samuel,’ he said humourlessly. ‘You could find yourself walking straight into the end of a dagger one day.’ Samuel was about to retort, but the man continued, leaning closer and whispering into his ear. ‘Quickly, now. Follow me. Many have already heard of your exploits, and I’m afraid you have caused far too much trouble for Lord Jarrod. He has already arranged for your death and you are in no condition to defend yourself against his men just yet.’
‘Are you sure?’ Samuel asked with sudden alarm.
‘Very sure. Believe me. I’m one of those he has paid to do it. But you are of no use to me dead, so take that as a guarantee of my honesty, if you like. Keep close to me and don’t attract any attention,’ the magician instructed. ‘I’m not the only one sent to find you, but luckily, I was the first.’ And he began to move away at once through the jostling crowd.
Samuel would not normally have followed the stranger, but after meeting with the councillors and witnessing Lord Jarrod firsthand, he believed the man capable of anything. Looking over his shoulders, he could sense no other magicians in the street. Not willing to take any chances, however, he started following the dark magician cautiously, keeping note of everywhere he was led. The man drew him along wordlessly though the maze of streets, finally slipping down a small, almost invisible alleyway.
He stopped before an unmarked doorway that had just a hanging cloth for a door. The magician bent his head and then ducked inside. Samuel stopped a moment and eyed the entrance warily. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the cloth across and followed inside.
Within, Samuel found himself inside a smoking den. The floor was covered in round carpets and small tables with cushions for seats, and men were smoking from the hoses that sprouted from large, ornate vessels on each table. The air was thick with a pungent, spicy haze. The magician was already sitting at the farthest table by the wall and was talking with a thin servingman. He gestured for Samuel to come over as the servant was hurrying away.
‘What is this place?’ Samuel asked, sitting opposite the magician and adjusting his cushion.
‘It’s just a smoking house,’ the man replied, ‘but one of the best in Cintar, I must say. Would you like to try?’
Samuel raised his hands. ‘No, not at all. It stinks like something awful-a bit like crap actually.’
The magician actually managed a slight smile as he began puffing from one of the curling hoses.
‘Plans will have to change, Samuel,’ he said, blowing out billows of smoke with his words. ‘At the moment, you can consider me the only friend you have in this city. You see, a lot was hinging on your good friend Eric Pot’s ability to perfect his spell of travelling. Since the prospect of this unique ability popped up, everyone has been waiting expectantly to see if he could perfect it. That fool, Master Dividian had Jarrod convinced he could guide the boy and finish the spell. Once made, others would soon be able to copy it. A spell like that would be priceless to many people for many different reasons. But Dividian is an idiot. The boy failed and it cost him his life. It will only be a matter of time before the pieces start falling together and someone comes to the realisation that you, dear Samuel, are the next best thing to a spell of travelling. Your Master Glim and Grand Master Anthem also had their sights set on that boy, Eric Pot, and had him nestled under their wings, but it seems Lord Jarrod and Master Dividian out-schemed them both and managed to have the Grand Master ousted. They all assumed it was a spell of travelling that held the answer, but I have always known better.’
‘But what do you mean?’ Samuel asked.
‘Don’t you understand? You are the one that everyone is looking for, even though you don’t know it. You, my good boy, have the ability to kill the Emperor.’
‘Kill the Emperor?’ Samuel asked in disbelief. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘It’s not a matter of why, Samuel. Everyone believes it and that’s all that matters. They were looking so hard, that when Dividian discovered young Master Pot’s skills with precursor journey spells, he came ranting and raving and convinced Lord Jarrod that the answer had been found. I believe I’m the only one who yet realises what potential you have. It’s quite funny. The damned black-cloaks never see the obvious. They went looking for deeper answers when you were there all along, staring them right in the face. Although, I do admit the translation could throw almost anyone.’
‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked, baffled.
‘Oh, forgive me,’ the man replied. ‘I forget you may not have heard. That fool seer, Master Celios, has a terribly annoying habit of making accurate predictions. One day he just spat it out in Old Tongue in the Emperor’s Court:
‘Fear him, the traveller who kills the king that cannot be killed, the magician that cannot be found,’ Samuel translated out loud.
‘That’s one version, Samuel, and the one that set all the old fools on an old fools’ errand. This particular dialect is from a very old branch of the Old Tongue, and I have invested considerable effort into translating it myself. If they had used less ornate wording, as all you black-cloaks are fond to do, and used a bit more common sense, they would have come to a more meaningful result: “Beware the killer of the immortal king, the magician that cannot be
Samuel was full of disbelief. ‘You think
‘I do. And I believe Jarrod has just now come to the same conclusion and others will, too, if they have not already. All have been willing to play the waiting game, intent on snatching up the spoils, but now that the first assumption has gone sour, everyone will be eager to steal you away-hence the order for your death. You are too dangerous to be left alive, Samuel. The Turians don’t want their Emperor killed-they want power and you are now a threat to all of that. What cannot be controlled, must be destroyed. That is the creed of the covetous.’
Samuel finally realised something that should have been obvious long ago. ‘So it was Jarrod and Dividian I heard plotting in my dreams.’
‘What do you mean?’ the other asked with interest.
‘Sometimes, I hear pieces of conversations in my head, but mostly it is just intelligible nonsense. The same two voices kept coming back to me, but I never realised who they were until now.’ Then another point grabbed his attention. ‘But if you work for Lord Jarrod, why are you helping me?’
‘I do not work for them, boy. We exchange favours for mutual benefit. At least, that is what I let them believe. To let them think I am in their employ is to my advantage. Let’s leave it at that.’
‘So what do you think I should do?’
‘You cannot stay in Cintar. It is far too dangerous and no matter how well you hide, they will eventually find you. If you stay here, you will be dead within a few days at the very most-of that I am sure.’
‘Surely they can’t just have me murdered! There would be some form of investigation.’
The magician sniggered a moment. ‘You are so naive, Samuel. They can make your death seem any way they wish. Or you could just disappear altogether. You wouldn’t be the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last. It’s unfortunate this situation has arisen. I can’t take care of you as I am far too busy and neither can I interfere with Jarrod, as he is an unfortunate necessity at the moment. Anthem is the only one who could protect you now, but Jarrod has managed to remove him from the picture for the time being.’ He puffed a stream of smoke up towards the hazed ceiling. ‘Your only chance is to leave Cintar altogether.’
‘But where would I go?’ Samuel asked. ‘How can I just disappear? I don’t want to leave.’
‘Very well,’ the man said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Then enjoy your last hours.’
‘Wait, wait,’ Samuel pleaded. ‘Tell me what I should do.’
