With that, Kargan stepped away from the door, allowing it to close. With any luck, Doorkeeper would remember only this fact when questioned; the information the Magemaster had actually wanted-the location of Loras’ home-would be buried in the false trail that the major-domo had inadvertently helped to lay.
If I remember rightly, Lower Frunstock's about thirty miles south-east of here, he thought, hurrying to the stables at the side of the House. On a fast horse, I should make it in a couple of hours.
Stealing through the shadows like a footpad, Kargan reached the deserted stables in a few minutes. The door was padlocked, but his trusty Mage Staff, Seeker, made short work of the lock.
The horses whinnied and nickered in their stalls, but softly. Kargan muttered the Minor Magic spell of Light, and Seeker emitted a soft, yellow glow that lit the stable and the tackle hanging on the wall. He had no idea of how to saddle a horse, but he had been taught to ride by the Senior Wrangler on his father's estate. The Wrangler was, or had been, a simple plainsman, and he had taught the youthful Kargan how to ride bareback, controlling a horse only with his knees, thighs and voice. It would be hard going, but Kargan had only thirty miles to cover, after all.
Selecting a likely steed, a slender, wide-eyed, chestnut filly, he comforted the animal with a series of clicks and coos. Taking a blanket from a pile to his left, he draped it over the horse's back. With practiced ease, he fashioned a length of rope into a simple curb bit, which the animal accepted with no more complaint than a soft whinny.
He dragged a crate over to the open stall and tried to mount the horse, managing it on his third attempt. The horse's hooves clattered on the stable's flagstone floor, but she seemed to be a tractable beast, well used to the presence of a human on her back.
It seemed strange, after all these years, to be astride a horse without full tackle and stirrups, but the Senior Wrangler's lessons had not been wasted. Kargan flicked the crude reins and clicked, pressing his knees gently into the beast's sides, and she began to trot out of the stable, into the black night.
The mountain pass was a trial, and the Magemaster's knees and hips sent bolts of fire through his spine by the time he had reached its foot. However, once he had reached the broad, level streets of the slumbering town of Arnor, he gave his mount her head, growing in confidence as he navigated the filly onto the open plain. With his eyes now adapted to the darkness, he hunkered down over her back and followed the trail to the south-east.
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Chapter 28: The Storm Gathers
Kargan realised his belief that he might reach Lower Frunstock in the space of two hours might be an optimistic estimate. He had not forgotten how to ride without a saddle, and the filly was speedy enough on level ground, but he had failed to take into account the journey's toll on his body.
Twenty years of riding nothing more than a comfortable chair had softened his muscles and his stamina, and his body had forgotten just how much hard work was required to control a horse without saddle, stirrups or spurs. After riding hard for half an hour, he had to stop for several minutes in order to rest.
He brought the animal to a halt by a tree-stump, so that he would be able to remount; he knew now that he could never hope to leap onto the horse's back from level ground, as he had once been able to do.
He dismounted, feeling pleased that he managed to remain on his feet, but his lower body ached abominably. After removing the filly's rude curb bit and hobbling her, Kargan clasped his hands behind his neck and leaned backwards, trying to ease the pain in his knotted muscles.
Some dashing rider you turned out to be, he thought, with a rueful, pained grimace. If you have to stop every thirty minutes, it'll take a bloody year and a day to get there. I'll be in no condition to cast…
Oh, no! Kargan spat out a heartfelt stream of obscenity, as he realised he had left the libram containing Bledel's spell in his chamber. He had left behind the only tool he might have used to convince Loras of Thorn's treachery.
He had managed to memorise several Divinatory spells, but this potent spell might take a lifetime to master without a scroll or libram to help him. From the eyewitness accounts Kargan had heard, Loras believed wholeheartedly in his guilt. If he had been beguiled by a similar hex to that used on Dalquist-and there was every reason to think that he had been there might be little the Mentalist could do to remove the block.
Kargan dared not return to the House-that was asking for trouble and at the very least, awkward questions. Kargan had prepared himself for this journey for some time: he had exercised his voice and his brain at every opportunity, and he had spent days in loading Seeker with all the magical energy he might require.
However, forgetting the scroll with Bledel's spell might make all this moot.
He scratched his grey beard and pondered. The situation seemed intractable… or did it?
There's no block on my memory, he thought, and I know Demay's Spell of Recall like the back of my hand…
Kargan's problem with Dalquist had not been to retrieve the young mage's memories so much as to bypass the formidable blockage Lizaveta had placed on them. That would not be necessary to extract the details of Bledel's spell from his own mind.
Demay's hex is a Schedule Two Disassociative spell, he thought. I ought to know; I've used it enough times on myself, to remember where I've left things.
But is it powerful enough to pull out the memory of every single rune in a fifteen-minute Schedule Nine Engagement spell?
He knew the slightest error would render the spell at best useless; at worst, it could kill him. He had only ever used the Spell of Recall to recollect simple facts, such as a Student's name, or the location of a missing pair of shoes, and he felt chary about risking his life, his very soul, perhaps, on its limited powers.
On the other hand, he could not tolerate the prospect of the traitorous Thorn becoming Dominie, even if he had to put his life on the line to prevent it. He was confident in his abilities as a Mage Mentalist; his staff bore the seven rings that attested to mastery, and he had been teaching the craft for three decades.
His casting of Bledel's spell had been flawless, and he only needed to remember the stream of runes and inflections he had used on that day and dictate them into Seeker, as if it were some magical amanuensis. No great expenditure of energy would be required, since he would not actually be casting the enchantment.
It's a cheap enough spell, even extended over fifteen minutes, he thought. I can do it two or three times, and compare the results; if each recollection agrees with the others, I can have a high degree of certainty in the spell's accuracy. If I cast the spell on Seeker, I should be able to call it up when I need it.
He looked around him. The eastern horizon was still dark, so daybreak was still some way off.
It's worth a try.
Kargan clutched Seeker to him and began to cast the spell's first iteration.
Thorn felt ebullient and confident. Ever since Crohn and Dalquist had confronted him in this very office, he had been on the alert for the least sign of conspiracy, and his spy, Wiirt, had at last discovered the two mages engaging in mutinous conversation. It might take a certain amount of guile on The Prelate's part, but he felt sure he could convince the Presidium of the sorcerers’ guilt.
By the time those two ever come before a Conclave, he thought, they'll believe the truth of every single accusation. Mother might think she's the only one who can control a mage's mind, but I have some skill in that area myself. It's almost a shame she may not live long enough to find out about it.
It was late, or, rather, early in the day, and Thorn resisted the urge to act at once. Taking a deep, appreciative draught of wine from his glass, he decided that the interrogation could wait for a day or two, until Crohn and Dalquist were softened up a little. He had given orders to Wiirt, Xylox and Faffel to stand guard over the two mages around the clock, and to wake them whenever they showed signs of torpor.
