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“Payment,” Ria screeched at the wizard. “How dare you?” Tor grabbed her arm as she leaned forward to pull a dagger out of her boot.
Patrick decided to take command of the situation and slid off his horse, signalling to the wizard that he should do the same. Patrick led him away from the others, placing a conspiratorial arm around his shoulders. “Look my friend,” he said softly, making sure Ria and Tor could not overhear him. “While I admit that she is a very desirable woman to look at, you have seen what her temper is like. That is just a small indication of what you are letting yourself in for.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure none of his companions were trying to overhear. “I would appreciate it if you did not let this go any further, but between you and me I would gratefully accept your offer to take her off our hands, but unfortunately it is not my decision.”
The wizard looked Patrick up and down, taking in his silk shirt, tight leather trousers and expensive looking boots. He then glanced at those Patrick travelled with, seeing decent, but well worn, travelling clothes; there was no finery to be seen anywhere. He found it hard to believe any of them outranked Patrick.
“Whose decision is it then?” Patrick had obviously not managed to put him off.
Patrick pointed to Nosmas. “As we are in your country, I presume our wizard is currently in command of our little company.”
The wizard, who had yet to give his name, raised his eyebrows. “That man does not look like a wizard,” he scoffed. “Are you jesting with me good sir?”
“I can assure you I am not. By my life, I swear he is a wizard, and a very good one.”
“We shall see about that. Is he married to the young lady?”
Patrick shook his head. “No, but he is responsible for her well being while we are here.”
“Good,” the wizard replied. “Then I shall challenge your wizard to a duel.”
“Wait here,” Patrick said. “I will inform him.” Things had not gone as well as he had planned and he was not looking forward to telling Tor.
“Well?” the Prince asked as he approached. “Have you sorted things out?”
“Not exactly,” Patrick admitted. “I tried to convince him that Ria was really not worth having.” He ignored her cry of indignation. “Unfortunately he is prepared to fight for her.”
Nosmas groaned. “What have you done?”
“It seems he has challenged you to a duel.”
“Wonderful,” Nosmas said sarcastically.
“A duel?” Sam asked. “As in pistols at dawn?”
“What is a pistol?” Quartilla enquired.
“Never mind,” Sam replied. Explaining how guns worked was too much like hard work.
“In Thauma, if there is a dispute between wizards over an available woman, and by available I mean not married to a wizard, they duel to the death using any form of magic that they know.” Nosmas glared at Patrick as he spoke.
“Can you beat him?” Tor asked.
Nosmas sighed. “Of course I can beat him, but I really do not want to kill him just because he is stupid enough to want to marry Ria. No offence intended,” he quickly added, glancing in her direction. The look she was levelling at him suggested his comment had not gone down well.
“Can we not get Ria to marry him?” Patrick suggested. Nobody bothered to answer, hoping he was joking, but each a little worried that he was being serious.
“Why did you not just tell him Ria and I were married?”
When Patrick looked at Nosmas he appeared slightly embarrassed. “I did not think of that. Sorry.”
Nosmas sighed. “I suppose I had better get this over and done with.” He dismounted and strode up to the wizard. “I have been informed that you have requested a duel. I will have your name before I kill you,” he demanded.
The other wizard’s smile was full of confidence as he replied. “Olan. And you are?”
Nosmas looked the man up and down. He was young for a wizard, having yet to reach his thirtieth year. He wore his long, brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck, as was the fashion for most wizards, and his neatly trimmed beard, pointed at the chin, indicated he cared a lot about his appearance. Here was a man who thought a lot of himself.
“Nosmas,” he said by way of introduction, before adding, “I really do not want to kill you. Will you not change your mind?”
Olan suddenly looked less sure of himself. “Did you just say Nosmas? As in the son of Bellak?”
“Yes. I see you have heard of me.”
Olan nodded, his face visibly paling. “I heard Nosmas and his father were travelling with Prince Tor of Remeny.” He was praying that the man in front of him was lying about his identity.
“That would be me,” Tor said, stepping forward. Olan had studied politics and had seen paintings of all reigning monarchs and their immediate families. When he looked closer at the man approaching, he realised he did resemble the Prince. He tried a different approach.
“So where is your father?” he asked. He did not get the answer he had been expecting.
“Dead.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” he stammered, too surprised to question the validity of the statement. “He was a great man.” He looked around him, uncertain as to what his next step should be. An idea occurred to him, cheering him up immensely. “You should inform the Chancellor,” he suggested. “I can escort you.”
Tor groaned. He did not want another detour. Without pausing for thought, Nosmas agreed, explaining to the Prince that Olan was right and that the Chancellor should be informed of Bellak’s death as it needed to be written in the official chronicles.
“Does this mean the duel is off?” Ria asked Nosmas, a little too loudly.
Olan grinned at her. “Only if Nosmas can prove who he is.”
It took three days to ride to the city of Quarm, where the Chancellor resided. Being completely designed and built by wizards, the buildings were amazing; weird, but amazing. With the use of magic, they created second storeys that the first storeys should not have been able to support, rooftops that were completely transparent and walls that were continually changing colour. One even had a slide spiralling around it from a platform on the roof to the street below. As the group rode by, a number of children slid down it, giggling, then ran into the house to climb up to the roof once more. Sam was completely mesmerised. Luckily Thresnine, her horse, was not so easily impressed and kept her attention on where she was going, preventing Sam from riding into any of the buildings.
Olan led them to a large building in the centre of a square. At first glance, it looked completely normal; a rectangular two storey structure with plain brick walls and a sloping red tiled roof. As they drew closer, however, it shimmered, revealing a much larger and more ornate structure. It had spires, numerous balconies and a waterfall cascading from the flat roof on the left side of the building into a large pond where fish could be seen jumping to catch flies. Every surface was gold and shone brightly in the sun.
“Illusion spell,” Olan commented. “The Chancellor who built it wanted to make it appear plain and ordinary in the hope that people would be discouraged from visiting him. Also, there were so many complaints about the glare from the sun being too bright when it reflected off the walls that he was told to change its colour. As it is actually made of real gold, he was loath to do that so he created the illusion. Subsequent Chancellors have added things and modified the residence, but none have removed the illusion spell.” He glanced towards Nosmas, making sure he was far enough away to not overhear before adding, “It is also rumoured that no wizard has been able to remove the spell, though this has been publically denied.”
Tor smiled. Despite the fact that he still wanted to marry Ria and was causing them a long delay, he was beginning to like the young wizard. Olan dismounted, indicated to his guests that they should do the same, then called out for stableboys. As soon as the horses had been attended to, he opened the main door of the house and walked in without knocking, much to Tor’s surprise. He looked questioningly at Nosmas, who shrugged his shoulders. He too found it strange that the front entrance to the Chancellor’s residence was not manned by a butler or guard.
Olan beckoned them to follow, leading them down a long corridor before stopping outside a large wooden door. This time he did knock and waited for the occupant to confirm he could enter before opening the door.
“Father, I wish to be married,” he announced as he strode into the room. “But there is a little problem.”
“Father?” Patrick mouthed at Tor. That explained a few things.
The group followed Olan into the room and found themselves in a study. Books lined the walls and in one corner stood a small table surrounded by chairs. At the far end, a man was seated behind a desk, which was covered with papers. He looked remarkably like Olan, except for his eyes, which were green instead of brown. Lines on his brow and streaks of grey in his hair showed he was older, probably mid to late fifties Tor assumed. If Olan had not called him father, Tor would have guessed the relationship anyway.
The Chancellor sighed and put down the document he was reading. “Please introduce me to your guests first Olan,” he instructed. “Then we can discuss your marital status. Again.” His voice was strong and commanding, but not domineering. He came across as a leader not a dictator.
“My apologies.” Olan turned to where Tor and his companions had crowded together. “I am pleased to introduce you to the current Chancellor and leader of Thauma, who is also my father.” He spoke the word ‘father’ with pride. He obviously had a lot of respect for him, as well as love.
“Father, this is Lady Sam, Lady Quartilla, Lord Patrick, Prince Tor and Lady Ria, with whom I wish to be betrothed.” The ladies curtsied as they were introduced and the men bowed their heads. Sam, Ria and Quartilla felt flattered being introduced as Ladies and did not question the title. The Chancellor nodded his head politely to each, but his eyes never left Nosmas.
“I feel I should know you,” he said before his son could mention Nosmas’s name.
“This is the problem I was talking about Father,” Olan explained. “While Nosmas is not married to Ria, he is responsible for her, so I have challenged him to a duel.”
The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed. “Nosmas. Nosmas. Where have I heard that name before?” He swallowed as his memory returned. “Bellak’s son?”
Nosmas nodded.
The Chancellor turned to his son. “I think you might want to reconsider your choice of bride,” he advised.
“I did not know who he was when I made the challenge,” Olan whispered to his father. “I can hardly back down now can I?”
The Chancellor looked at Nosmas, concern for his son written across his face. “Who else knows of this challenge?”
“Only those present in this room,” Nosmas informed him. “I can assure you that none will ever mention it if Olan wishes to withdraw his request for a duel.”
“Thank you,” The Chancellor said, visibly relieved. “Olan.”
“I withdraw my request for the hand of Lady Ria and therefore the need to dual you,” Olan said formally, understanding his father’s prompt.
“Wise decision,” Patrick said. “If you had managed to win the right to marry Ria, you would have spent the rest of your life worrying about being murdered in your sleep.”
“I am a fully trained wizard. I think I am more than capable of looking after myself,” Olan said with more confidence than he felt. He did not like the way Ria was smiling at him.
“Really?” she purred. She moved so fast he barely had time to mutter an exclamation of surprise before he felt her standing behind him with a knife at his throat. “Tell me,” she whispered, “how do you plan to use a spell if you cannot speak?”
“I do not think that was really necessary,” Tor reprimanded her and she reluctantly released her prisoner.
“May I suggest you get to know a woman before demanding that she marry you,” Ria said to Olan. “Some of us are full of surprises.”
Olan placed a hand on his throat and was relieved to find no trace of blood. “Are you sure you will not consider my proposal? I have a feeling that living with you would be rather exciting.” The look on Ria’s face answered his question.
“Now the fun is over,” the Chancellor said, taking command of the situation, “why are you here?” His attention was focussed on Nosmas. “Have you come to challenge me or to announce that your father wishes to? I knew it was only a matter of time before one of you did.”
Nosmas shook his head. “You know that neither of us have ever been interested in politics or leadership. This country would fall apart if we took over. I have sad news and your son insisted that I deliver it to you in person.”
“He does sometimes get things right then.” The Chancellor smiled affectionately at his son as he spoke. This was friendly banter, not a rebuke. He turned back to Nosmas. “What is this news?”
“My father is dead.”
The words took the Chancellor by surprise. He had started to rise and fell back into his chair as though he had been struck. “This cannot be.”
“I am afraid it is. I will give you full details if you would be so kind as to arrange some refreshments for my friends and me. We have travelled a long way.”
“Of course,” the Chancellor said, shaking his head as though the action would clear his thoughts. “Please forgive my rudeness. Olan, go and find the housekeeper. Also, rooms need to be made up, as I am sure our guests will not wish to depart until the morning.” Olan was about to leave the room when his father spoke again. “After that you had better locate the registrar. Bellak’s death needs to be officially recorded and an announcement should be made at tomorrow’s council meeting. His loss will be felt by all.”
Once Olan had departed, the Chancellor offered seats to his visitors and Nosmas began his tale. He told the Chancellor everything, from how and why his family had first joined the quest, to him being bitten by a werewolf and Bellak’s spell reversing the curse instead of curing it. He spoke of only being a man at every full moon and of Bellak’s vow to hunt down the werewolf responsible and kill him in order to end Nosmas’s torment.
Refreshments arrived, but the Chancellor hardly noticed, he was so absorbed in the story. “When we finally met up with Prince Vitkin once more, Lycane was still with him. We were traversing a ledge on the side of a mountain when my father saw his opportunity. He jumped to his death, dragging Lycane with him. Lycane did not survive the fall and my humanity was restored.”
“That is an amazing story,” the Chancellor said. “Would you object to repeating it one more time, to one of the historians, so that it can be properly documented?” Nosmas shook his head. He was pleased with the offer. Not many wizards got their death honoured in this way. “Tell me Tor, how goes the quest?” the Chancellor continued.
“We are nearing the end. We are on our last clue, we hope.”
“So where are the rest of your brothers?” While telling his tale, Nosmas had mentioned the fact that they were now all working together.
“Cirren and Brodin have gone to obtain one half of what is needed for the final part of the puzzle, while I went after the other. We are the only three left alive.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” the Chancellor said with sympathy. His condolences were interrupted by Sam’s sudden gasp.
“Oh my god,” she said. “I have just realised something. We may have a big problem.” Something about the last clue had been bothering her ever since they had retrieved the royal seal and talking about it had focussed her mind. Everyone was staring at her in concern. “How does the clue start?”
“The guide you need to obtain the royal seal from Kinfen’s heir,” Ria started to quote.
“Stop there,” Sam instructed. “That’s the problem. I am the guide, but I did not retrieve the seal. Quartilla, Nosmas and Hawk did.”
“She is right you know,” Patrick said unhelpfully.
Tor stroked his beard as he pondered what had been said. “For every other clue, there has either been a physical reason why the person specified in the clue has to be present or there has been someone there to ensure they are the right person.” Sam’s mind went back to when she had retrieved a previous clue. She had to drink poison to prove she really was ‘from another world’. It had turned out not to be poison, just a test, but she saw what Tor was getting at.
“Then logically, the same should have been true this time. Someone or something should have prevented anyone but me getting the seal.”
“Exactly,” Tor confirmed.
“So why was I able to take it from Prince Manus’s neck?” Nosmas asked.
“Maybe Sam was supposed to request that Manus hand it over and he himself was supposed to confirm her identity?” Quartilla volunteered.
“It is possible,” Tor agreed, “but unlikely. I cannot see a man like Manus willingly giving up the royal seal. It was not even his to give away, if you remember. Legally it belonged to Tallon.”
“Something strange is going on here,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “After he had retrieved the final clue, if my memory serves me correctly, Tor mentioned something about the Baron being surprised as the wooden plaque the clue was written on had not been there the previous day.”
Tor nodded. As always, Patrick’s memory was perfect. “It was almost as if someone was watching us and planted the clue as soon as we arrived in the city.”
“What are you suggesting?” Ria asked.
“I do not know,’ Patrick admitted, “but it is looking more and more likely that there is some sort of twist to this quest that we have yet to discover.”
Nosmas was looking at Sam and his staring started to make her feel uncomfortable. “There had to be a reason for the clue to mention the guide,” he said, thinking out loud. “We have proven that Sam was not actually needed, so what possible reason is there for her being named?”
“Could whoever planted the clue have known that the group would split up and they wanted Sam and Dean separated for some reason?” Ria suggested.
Tor shook his head. “No. The clues were all written before my father died. Nobody even knew of Sam and Dean’s existence, let alone their relationship.”
“But were they written before your father died?” Patrick asked. “You yourself said that you felt as if the last one was planted just before you retrieved it. Could someone else be responsible for this quest?”
“I hate to admit it, but I have been thinking the same thing for a while,” Sam said.
“It is possible,” Tor said reluctantly. “Though who it could be or what they could hope to gain from it, I cannot think.”
“There is one thing that has happened as a result of the quest,” Ria said in a strained voice. She was staring at her hands as she spoke, unwilling to meet the eyes of her companions. “The number of people in line to the throne has been greatly reduced.”
Tor looked at her in horror. “Are you suggesting someone set up this quest in order to murder my brothers?” Ria did not need to answer, the look on her face said it all.
“But why split up me and Dean?” Sam asked.
“I have no idea, but I do know one thing,” Patrick said. “Your nightmares started almost as soon as we obtained the clue that caused us to go in two different directions. Am I the only one who thinks that is too much of a coincidence?”
There were murmurs of agreement. Patrick and Tor’s eyes met. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Patrick asked.
Tor nodded. “We need to reunite as soon as possible.”