“As soon as you completed your training, I was released from my oath. Ironically, it is a built-in protection for the new king’s honor. It would not be honorable for the new Rez to kill the old one if the old one is forbidden from fighting back.”
“So every Rez has killed his predecessor? What guarantees that new one will succeed?”
With a shrug, Connovan said, “Sometimes they do not, but usually the old one is slower than his younger counterpart. If you had failed, I would still be bound to serve the new king until the next Rez was trained. You have not killed me, and you have not technically failed because you have not attempted it; therefore, I remain unbound. Do you know the purpose of the Rez?”
Most of Rezkin’s information regarding the Rez had come from Tam’s book and hearsay. Rezkin glanced at Farson as he said, “To protect the king and serve as his assassin—or in whatever capacity he requires?”
“Oh, he would not know,” Connovan said with a glance at Farson. “What you have said is the public’s belief—the one told in stories. The truth is a secret held only between the reigning king, the Rez, and the secret archive. Bordran broke the rule by telling Lecillia and Marcum. The secret archive is enchanted to remain a part of the kingdom’s charter. The position of the Rez can never be changed, no matter who sits upon the throne, so long as Ashai exists.” He waved a hand around the room. “Shall we discuss it here, amongst all these people?”
“Just get on with it,” said Rezkin.
The man smirked. “Very well. I suppose we can kill them later. The Rez, as I said earlier, is known only to a few. His purpose is a secret for the king alone. Not even Marcum or Lecillia know this. A king is always encouraged to have at least three sons—an heir, a spare heir, and a third to become the Rez. I know of only once that a daughter was taken because there were no extra male royal offspring. The reason the third son is trained as the Rez—always in secret, mind you—is because the Rez must have a legitimate claim to the throne. Bordran rejected the order, though. He said he would not give up his son—Lecillia’s son—to become what I am. Although Bordran did not know me as a child, I think he loved me—and he hated me.”
Rezkin said, “You are also of the royal family.”
“I am Bordran and Deysius’s younger brother—the third son.” He paused, then said, “It was the third king of Ashai, King Fehrwin, who created the Rez. His own father, Coroleus’s son Urhyus, had lived too long, some stories claiming nearly two hundred years. In his old age, the king became melancholy. He made poor decisions that damaged the kingdom, but he refused to abdicate. When Fehrwin finally received the crown, the kingdom was a terrible mess. He decided the king was too powerful, that the kingdom needed a safeguard. Thus, he wove the Rez into the charter in a way that would forever be sustained. If a ruler becomes a threat to the kingdom, it is the Rez’s primary responsibility, his duty above all others, as dictated by the laws of this kingdom, to kill the king.”
After a prolonged silence, Malcius exclaimed, “If that is all true, then why would you continue to uphold an oath to a madman?”
“It is a mage oath,” said Wesson.
“Indeed,” said Connovan with a tilt of his head. “I knew Caydean was mad, but he had not yet done anything to warrant his execution—at least, nothing I could prove.”
Malcius was undeterred. “But, if Rezkin was meant to kill you, and you and Bordran both knew this, why would he send you to watch Rezkin when he was young?”
With a frown, Connovan said, “I was the Rez. It was my duty to serve Bordran, as it was my duty to battle the new Rez when he came for me. It is all in the Rules.” He lifted a hand toward Rezkin and said, “This Rez, however, far surpasses any Rez that has come before him. He has managed to master all the Skills and then some.”
“You did not?” said Rezkin.
Connovan laughed. “In all my years, I have barely mastered a quarter of them.” At Rezkin’s dubious look, he said, “You do not believe me? I suppose you should not. I am the Rez, after all. Perhaps you will believe them,” he said with a nod toward Rezkin’s friends on the sofa—and Tieran who had not regained the courage to come out from behind it. “You have not figured it out because you had no one to whom you could compare yourself. The masters and strikers were to act as though your ability to absorb knowledge was normal, unexceptional. Perhaps Journeyman Mage Wesson would do us the honor of selecting a book from the shelf?”
Wesson glanced at Rezkin for approval and then said, “Which book?”
“Any will do,” said Connovan.
Behind Rezkin’s desk were a few shelves containing whatever books had made it to the island.
Wesson chose one at random and then looked to the former Rez. “How about The Design of Character: The Disposition of Jerean Architecture?”
“Are the pages numbered?” said Connovan.
“Yes.”
“Turn to page … hmm … forty-seven. King Rezkin, would you tell us the third word in the second paragraph?”
“Utility,” Rezkin said immediately.
“That is correct,” said Wesson.
Connovan said, “Please begin recitation of the first line in the third paragraph on page seventeen.”
Wesson flipped through the pages, and Rezkin began. “The dynamics between service and the formalized cultural traditions and practices of the era are unique to the provinces …”
“Thank you, I think that is enough of that book,” Connovan said.
Wesson glanced up. “He is correct. Every word.”
Malcius said, “For the Maker’s sake, Rezkin, how many times have you read that book? I could not force myself past the first two pages.”
“Why would I need to read it more than once?” said Rezkin. “It is not enchanted. The words do not change with each reading.”
Wesson blurted, “You are a scrivener!”
Rezkin looked at him with confusion. “I am capable of writing, but I did not write that book.”
“No, not a mundane scrivener,” said Wesson. “A scrivener is a very special type of mage.”
Farson suddenly broke his silence. “That information was kept from him. We were very careful to make sure he never knew of scriveners. Actually, we kept much about mages from him. It seemed odd since we were assured he was not a mage; but, we had orders, and we followed them.”
“What is a scrivener?” said Malcius.
Wesson frowned at the striker and then turned to Malcius. “Scriveners have perfect memory and recall. They can memorize anything they hear or see the first time; and, more importantly, they can recall it flawlessly. It explains so much. That is how you were able to master so many skills in such a short time.”
Farson said, “It does not explain his physical prowess.”
“No, but I am sure it helps,” Wesson said then turned to back the others. “Imagine that you can learn any knowledge by listening to someone or by reading a book one time and never forget anything. No studying required.”
Tieran said, “If knowledge is power, then it is a very powerful talent. It is also exceedingly rare, more so than readers and illusionists. In fact, I know of only one.” He turned toward the woman in black and said, “Queen Lecillia.”
The woman dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief beneath her veil and then lifted the black lace over her head. She looked up at Rezkin and said, “It is true. I am Lecillia, and you are my son.”
“How can this be?” Tieran said. “We determined that we were related, but we thought he was Bordran or Deysius’s bastard.”
Lecillia’s expression became furious. “You, Tieran Nirius, will not call my son a bastard! He is a true and legitimate prince of Ashai.”
“Prince?” Frisha said and quickly covered her mouth as her face grew pale.