He finished by placing a seal of wax upon the wall near the door. He then closed the book. “It is done.”
Tully moved toward the door, and Pug’s hand restrained him. “Do not cross the threshold.” The old priest looked at Pug questioningly.
Kulgan shook his head in appreciation. “Don’t you see what the boy’s done, Tully?” Pug was forced to smile, for even after he’d grown long white whiskers, he’d still be a boy to Kulgan. “Look at the candles!”
The others looked in, and in a moment all could see what the stout magician meant. The candles at the corners of the pentagram were alight, although this was difficult to see in the daylight. But when they were watched closely, it was clear the flames didn’t flicker. Pug said to the others, “Time moves so slowly in that room it is nearly impossible to detect its passage. The wall of this palace would crumble to dust before the candles burn a tenth part of their length. Should anyone cross the threshold, he will be caught like a fly in amber. It would mean death, but Father Nathan’s spell slows time’s ravages within the pentagram and prevents harm to the Princess.”
“How long will it last?” said Kulgan, obviously in awe of his former student.
“Until the seal is broken.”
Arutha’s face betrayed the first flickerings of hope. “She will live?”
“She lives now,” said Pug. “Arutha, she exists between moments, and will stay that way, forever young, until the spell is removed. But then time will once again flow for her and she will need a cure, if one exists.”
Kulgan gave out with an audible sigh. “Then we have gained that which we needed most. Time.”
“Yes, but how much?” asked Tully.
Arutha’s voice was firm. “Enough. I shall find a cure.”
Martin said, “What do you intend?”
Arutha looked at his brother, and for the first time that day was free of the crippling grief, the madness of despair. Coldly, evenly he said, “I will go to Sarth.”
EIGHT - Vow
Lyam sat unmoving.
He studied Arutha for a long moment and shook his head. “No. I forbid it.”
Arutha registered no reaction as he said, “Why?”
Lyam sighed “Because it’s too dangerous, and you’ve other responsibilities here.” Lyam rose from behind the table in Arutha’s private quarters and crossed over to his brother. Gently placing his hand on Arutha’s arm, he said, “I know your nature, Arutha. You hate sitting idly by while matters are moving to conclusion without you. I know you cannot abide the thought of Anita’s fate resting in hands other than your own, but in good conscience I cannot allow you to travel to Sarth.”
Arutha’s expression remained clouded, as it had been since the assassination attempt the day before. But with the death of Laughing Jack, Arutha’s rage had fled, seeming to turn inward, becoming cold detachment. Kulgan and Tully’s revelation of a possible source of knowledge existing in Sarth had cleansed his mind of the initial madness. Now he had something to do, something that required clarity of judgment, the ability to think rationally, coolly, dispassionately. Fixing his brother with a penetrating look, he said, “I’ve been away for months, traveling abroad with you, so the business of the Western Realm can endure my absence for another few weeks. As for my safety,” he added, his voice rising in inflection, “we’ve all seen just how safe I am in my own palace!” He fell into silence for a moment, then said, “I will go to Sarth.”
Martin had been quietly sitting in the corner, observing the debate, listening closely to both his half brothers. He leaned forward in his chair. “Arutha, I’ve known you since you were a babe and I know your moods as well as my own. You think it impossible to leave vital matters to the care of others. You have a certain arrogance to your nature, little brother. It is a trait, a flaw of character if you will, we all share.”
Lyam blinked as if surprised to be included in the indictment. “All . . . ?”
The corner of Arutha’s mouth turned up in a half-smile as he let out a deep sigh. “All, Lyam,” Martin said. “We’re all three Borric’s sons, and for all his good qualities, Father could be arrogant. Arutha, in temper you and I are as one; I simply mask myself better I can think of little to make me chafe more than sitting while others are about tasks I feel better able to accomplish, but at the last, there is no reason for you to go. There are others better suited. Tully, Kulgan, and Pug can set pen to parchment with all the questions required for the Abbot at Sarth. And there are those better suited to carry such messages quickly and without notice through the woods between here and Sarth.”
Lyam scowled. “Such as a certain duke from the West, I expect “