The Red Knight

Lissen Carak – The Abbess

The Abbess felt the rising tide of Wild power and stopped – she was feeding bits of chicken to her bird, and the plate of raw chicken fell to the marble floor. There couldn’t be this much power in her fortress – she reached out and felt him-

North of Lissen Carak – Thorn

Thorn felt her golden brilliance and he paused, licking at it to taste her, amazed at her potency. Delighted, saddened, angered, guilt-ridden-

Utterly distracted.

The Memory Palace – The Red Knight

He lay on the floor, and Prudentia was trying to reach him, her marble hand inches from his own – her hand and the black and white parquetry tiles were the only things he could see in the roiling, choking cloud of green, the green of trees in high summer. He was pinned to the floor – he could see the shape of the cage closing over him, a phantasm so potent that he could only breathe his wonder as it crushed him – it hesitated. He strained, but it was too powerful, even as it seemed to lose its focus, and he pushed against it his mind screaming ‘Fool, fool, fool-’

The door slammed shut leaving him lying crumpled in the corner of his armoured balcony.

The old Magus stood over him, his staff still glowing, and wisps of fae-fire played along its length. ‘Well, well,’ the old man said. ‘That would be your mother in you, I suspect.’

The captain tried to get to his feet and found himself boneless and almost unable to move his arms. ‘You have the advantage of me,’ he said softly.

The old Magus offered him a hand. ‘So I do. I am Harmodius, Royal Magus, and you are Lord Gabriel Moderatus Murien – Anna’s son.’ He smiled grimly. ‘The Viscount Murien. Don’t try and deny it, you little imp. Your mother thinks you’re dead, but I knew who you were the moment I saw you.’ He got the captain to his feet, and led him across the room to a chair.

Jacques came in with a cocked and loaded arbalest. It was smoothly done – Harmodius had no chance to react.

‘Say the word, my lord, and he’s dead,’ Jacques said.

‘You heard,’ the captain said. He felt as if he had the worst hangover of his life.

‘I heard,’ Jacques said. The bolt-head on the trough of the crossbow didn’t waver.

The captain took in a shaky breath. ‘Why shouldn’t I have you killed?’ he asked the Magus.

‘Is your petty secret worth the lives of everyone in the castle?’ the Magus asked. ‘None of you will live through this without me. Even with me the odds are long. In the name of the Trinity, boy, you just felt his power.’

The captain wished he could think. The Magus’ use of his name – Gabriel – had hit him as hard as the green cage had. He didn’t even allow himself to think the name Gabriel. ‘I have killed, and allowed men to die, to protect my secret,’ he said.

‘Time to stop doing that, then,’ said the Magus.

Jacques didn’t move, and his voice was calm. ‘Why don’t you just shut up about it?’ He shrugged, but the shrug never reached the crossbow bolt’s tip. ‘You being the mighty King’s Magus, and all. You stop talking about some dead boy’s name, and we can all go on together?’

‘Three in a secret,’ the captain muttered.

The Magus pursed his lips. ‘I’ll give my word not to disclose what I know – if you give me yours to talk to me about it. When and if this is over.’

The captain felt as if the floor had dropped from under his feet, and all he wanted to do was jump into the hole and hide. ‘Fine,’ he said. He remembered that Gawin Murien was lying in the hospital, almost exactly over his head. Four in a secret, and one my enemy, he thought. My lovely brother.

‘I so swear, by my power,’ the Magus said.

The captain forced himself to raise his head. ‘At ease, Jacques,’ he said. ‘He’s just sworn an oath that binds – if he breaks it, his own power will be crippled.’ He turned back to the Magus. ‘You saved my life,’ he said.

‘Ah – some shred of courtesy survives in you. Yes, boy, I saved you from a grisly death – he wanted your power for his own.’ The horrible old man grinned. ‘He was going to eat your soul.’

The captain nodded. ‘I feel as if he did. Or perhaps he didn’t like the taste?’ he tried to grin and gave it up. ‘A cup of water, Jacques.’

Jacques backed up a step, took the bolt from the action and used the goat’s foot at his belt to slowly unlever the string. ‘Loons,’ he muttered, as he left the room.

When he was gone, the Magus leaned forward. ‘How powerful are you, boy? Your mother never said a word.’

The captain’s heart beat faster at the word mother, and flashed on his beautiful mother, drunk and violent and hitting him-

‘Don’t mention my mother again.’ He sounded childish, even to himself.

Harmodius hooked a stool over with his staff and sat. ‘All right, boy, sod your mother. She was never any friend of mine. How powerful are you?’

The captain sat back, trying to recover his – his sense of himself. His poise. His captainness.

‘I have a good deal of raw power, and I had a good tutor until-’ He paused.

‘Until you ran away and faked your death,’ the Magus concluded. ‘Which of course you did with a phantasm. Of course you did.’ He shook his head.

‘I didn’t mean to fake it,’ the captain said.

The Magus smiled. ‘I was young and angry and hurt once, too, lad,’ he said. ‘Despite appearances. Never mind – cold comfort. I glimpsed your memory palace – magnificent. The entity within it – who is she?’

‘My tutor,’ the captain said.

There was a long pause. Harmodius cleared his throat. ‘You- ?’

The captain shrugged. ‘No I didn’t kill her. She was dying – my mother and my brothers, they . . . never mind. I saved what I could.’

The Magus narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s a human woman bound to a statue in a memory palace?’ he asked. ‘Inside your head.’

The captain sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘Heresy, thaumaturgy, necromancy, gross impiety, and perhaps kidnapping too,’ Harmodius said. ‘I don’t know whether to arrest you or ask how you did it.’

‘She helped me. She still does,’ the captain said.

‘How many of the hundred workings do you know?’ the Magus asked.

‘The hundred workings, of which there are at least a hundred and forty-four, and perhaps as many as four hundred?’ the captain asked.

Jacques came in with a tray – apple cider, water, wine.

‘No one comes in,’ the captain said.

Jacques made a face that suggested that he was no fool – but perhaps his master was – and left.

The Magus fingered his beard. ‘Hmmm,’ he said noncommittally.

‘I can work more than a hundred and fifty of them,’ the captain said. He shrugged.

‘It was a splendid memory machine,’ the Magus replied. ‘Why – if I may ask – aren’t you the shining light of Hermeticism?’

The captain picked up his cup of water and drained it. ‘It is not what I want.’

The Magus shocked him by nodding.

The captain leaned forward. ‘That’s it? You nod?’