The Red Knight

The captain thought for a long few heartbeats. ‘I think so,’ he said.

The old Magus nodded and ripped the tapestry off its hooks, so that the afternoon sun fell right on the tub. ‘Take the soap. With the sun. Do it.’ He held the soap where it could be seen.

The captain felt the sun against his bare skin like a faint weight. He held up a wet hand, and let the sun lick it.

He had always liked the sun. Especially in spring.

. . . scent of flowers . . .

For a fraction of a heartbeat he’d had it, and then revulsion set in. It was like a gag reflex.

The soap didn’t move.

‘Try harder,’ Harmodius said.

‘You could just give me the soap, and we could do this when I’m dressed.’ The captain felt very much at a disadvantage, naked, wet, hurt and vulnerable.

Harmodius narrowed his eyes. ‘Cast.’

The captain tried again. He let the sun kiss him. He drank in-

And spat up, narrowly avoiding his bath. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Better,’ Harmodius said. ‘Very good indeed. May I tell you what I admire in you, Captain?’

‘You’re going to try flattery now?’ asked the captain.

‘It’s not that you are not afraid of anything, because, as far as I can see, you are afraid of everything.’ Harmodius crossed his arms. ‘It’s that you overcome that fear every time.’ He nodded. ‘Now seize the power of the sun and cast.’

He let the sun caress him. He felt the power of it, which was rich, like good cheese – thicker than the power of the Wild, and more intense.

And then something in his mind slammed shut.

‘Damn it,’ Harmodius said. ‘Again.’

The captain took a deep breath, and tried again. He could feel the power. And he wanted it. To touch the sun-

To touch the sun was to be clean.

I am the child of incest and hate. I was made to be the destroyer. I can never harness the power of the sun.

The bathwater was warm, and the sun was warm. He pushed his revulsion down, and he reached for it. He thought of riding in the sun. Of horses in the sun. Of Amicia standing in the sun-

Just for a moment, he connected again. The sun falling on his hand was a conductor, and his skin drank in raw power like a sponge.

And then he gagged on it again. He coughed, physically, and the soap, halfway across the room, fell to the floor.

‘Ah-HA!’ roared the Magus.

‘I can’t do it,’ said the captain.

‘You just did it,’ Harmodius said. He picked up the soap and handed it to the man in the bath. ‘There is no limit, boy. There are no rules. You can tap the sun. For a long time, you will resist it – something in you will resist. But by God, boy, you just reached out and tapped the sun in its purist form. I know men who take the sun from water, from the air. Damn few take power straight from the source.’

His water was cooling, and the captain began to soap himself.

It grew cooler, too fast.

‘You bastard,’ the captain said to the Magus.

‘Best do something about it,’ Harmodius said.

The captain reached out to the well.

Harmodius was there, a tower of blue fire.

He went into his palace.

Don’t, said Prudentia. He’s waiting.

‘So he is, said the captain after touching the key hole.

He could feel the bath getting colder. ‘You bastard,’ he repeated.

The sun was all around him, and he reached for it.

And nothing much happened.

He thought of a summer day. But he thought too much and all he saw was sweat and bugs.

Autumn. The colour of pumpkins and standing corn and wheat ready for harvest – so many things golden and orange and ruddy in the setting sun-

Prudentia laughed aloud. ‘Well done, young master!’ she cried.

‘Pru!’ he said. He was alight with a ruddy gold.

Without intending it, the windows – the stained glass windows, in the clerestory above the rotating panels – flared to brilliant life. Coloured light fell across the floor.

‘Son of a bitch’ he said.

He pointed to a statue, a panel, a symbol. ‘Saint Mary, Herikleitus, Cancer,’ he said.

The wheels turned. And stopped, with a click.

Prudentia smiled a solid marble smile. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Watch.’

She held up a prism. It took the coloured light, bent it, and sent it as one coherent beam to strike the central panel of cancer.

Ah!

The water was warm. Then warmer. Verging on hot.

Harmodius laughed aloud. ‘Well done!’ he said.

The captain lay back in the bath, tired. Amazed. ‘I had help,’ he said, to cover his confusion. ‘Magus, that shouldn’t have been possible. How is it possible?’

Harmodius shook his head. ‘I have theories. No proof.’ He rubbed his neck. ‘I didn’t plan to ride out on errantry, two weeks ago. I planned to find some quiet, far from a trap Thorn had set for me. I wanted to perform some experiments.’

‘Instead, you got the siege.’ The captain was soaping himself shamelessly.

‘I managed a few of my experiments,’ Harmodius said.

‘Like what?’ asked the captain.

‘I got a Wild caster to use sunlight instead,’ Harmodius said smugly. ‘I knew you could do it.’

The captain shook his head. He ought to be angry. But he felt-

He felt very powerful, indeed. ‘What if you were wrong?’

Harmodius shrugged. ‘It was unlikely. I had reason for my theory in the first place. Besides, I no sooner got here than I found a woman who cast in both colours. Wild and sun. Every time I watch her heal, it is like a miracle.’ He rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘Last night I linked with the Abbess,’ he said.

‘You sound like a boy bragging about his first kiss,’ the captain said.

Harmodius laughed. ‘You are quick. She used to come around to our rooms – oh, in those days she was the very embodiment of what a woman should be.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s funny, how you are never too old to be young. But I’m not here to bandy tales of lust and love, lad. The lady has proven what I already suspected. This is going to change the world.’

‘I like the world fine as it is,’ Tom said from the doorway. ‘When you two man-witches are done having your bloody rites, sacrificing babes and eating them or whatever heathen thing you do, I’m ready with the day’s muster.’

The captain was still lying in the hot water, unmoving. ‘Did you come to find me just to experiment on me? Or did you have another motive, Magus?’

‘Thorn is planning to attack us. Directly.’ The Magus was trying to put the tapestry back over the opening. For a man of such power, he was curiously inept at the task. ‘Last night he learned he could overcome our defences. Now he’ll come.’

Tom came over, shkk’d him out of the way, and reached the corners out to tug them over heavy iron spikes