Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Pub ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t know that.”

 

 

Tomas sounded tired. “I just have a feeling.”

 

Pug nodded. “We’ll know tomorrow when Kulgan can tell us what happened.”

 

Tomas looked out toward the wall. “I’ve never seen it so strange around here. Not even when the Dark Brotherhood and the goblins attacked back when we were little, remember?”

 

Pug nodded, silent for a moment, then said, “We knew what we were facing then. The dark elves have been attacking castles on and off as far back as anyone can remember. And goblins . . . well, they’re goblins.”

 

They sat in silence for a long time; then the sound of boots on the pavement announced someone coming Swordmaster Fannon, in chainmail and tabard, halted before them. “What? Up so late? You should both be abed.” The old fighter turned to survey the castle walls. “There are many who find themselves unable to sleep this night.” He turned his attention back to the boys. “Tomas, a soldier needs to learn the knack of taking sleep whenever he can find it, for there are many long days when there is none. And you, Squire Pug, should be asleep as well. Now, why don’t you try to rest yourselves?”

 

The boys nodded, bade the Swordmaster good night, and left. The grey-haired commander of the Duke’s guard watched them go and stood quietly in the little garden for a time, alone with his own disquieting thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

Pug was awakened by the sound of footsteps passing his door. He quickly pulled on trousers and tunic and hurried up the steps to Kulgan’s room. Passing the hastily replaced door, he found the Duke and Father Tully standing over Kulgan’s sleeping pallet. Pug heard his master’s voice, sounding feeble, as he complained about being kept abed. “I tell you, I’m fine,” Kulgan insisted. “Just let me walk about a bit, and I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

 

Tully, still sounding weary, said, “Back on your back, you mean. You sustained a nasty jolt, Kulgan. Whatever it was that knocked you unconscious packed no small wallop. You were lucky, it could have been much worse.”

 

Kulgan noticed Pug, who stood quietly at the door, not wishing to disturb anyone. “Ha, Pug,” he said, his voice regaining some of its usual volume. “Come in, come in. I understand I have you to thank for not taking an unexpected journey with unknown companions.”

 

Pug smiled, for Kulgan seemed his old, jovial self, in spite of his wan appearance. “I really did nothing, sir. I just felt that something was not right, and acted.”

 

“Acted quickly and well,” said the Duke with a smile. “The boy is again responsible for the well-being of one of my household. At this rate I may have to grant him the title Defender of the Ducal Household.”

 

Pug smiled, pleased with the Duke’s praise. Borric turned to the magician. “Well, seeing as you are full of fire, I think we should have a talk about yesterday. Are you well enough?”

 

The question brought an irritated look from Kulgan. “Of course I’m well enough. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes.” Kulgan started to rise from the bed, but as dizziness overtook him, Tully put a restraining hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the large pile of pillows he had been resting on.

 

“You can talk here quite well enough, thank you. Now, stay in bed.”

 

Kulgan made no protest. He shortly felt better and said, “Fine, but hand me my pipe, will you, please?”

 

Pug fetched Kulgan’s pipe and pouch of tabac and, as the magician tamped down the bowl, a long burning taper from the fire pot. Kulgan lit his pipe and, when it was burning to his satisfaction, lay back with a contented look on his face. “Now,” he said, “where do we begin?”

 

The Duke quickly filled him in on what Tully had revealed, with the priest adding a few details the Duke overlooked. When they were done, Kulgan nodded “Your assumption about the origin of these people is likely. I suspected the possibility when I saw the artifacts brought from the ship, and the events in this room yesterday bear me out.” He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “The scroll was a personal letter from a magician of these people, the Tsurani, to his wife, but it was also more. The seal was magically endowed to force the reader to meant a spell contained at the end of the message. It is a remarkable spell enabling anyone, whether or not they can normally read, to read the scroll.”

 

The Duke said, “This is a strange thing.”

 

Tully said, “It’s astonishing.”