Iya arrived at the keep at midsummer with three more wizards for Arkoniel’s little band. She was delighted with his progress, especially when she learned that he and Eyoli had mastered Lyan’s message-sending spell.
The nights were warm and they spent the second evening walking along the cool riverbank. Behind them, the windows of the keep were warm with candlelight. A large log had washed up after the spring floods and they sat on it and dangled their bare feet in the water. Iya watched him send a trifling message off to Lyan in a tiny globe of bluish light. A moment later the woman’s laughing reply sped back in a firefly spark of green.
“Amazing!” Iya exclaimed.
“Actually it’s not a difficult spell at all, if you can perceive the pattern.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re young, Arkoniel, and you’ve spent the better part of your life caught up in this scheme of mine. Don’t you remember how it was before? Wizards don’t live in groups, and they seldom share their knowledge. Remember how frustrated and hurt you’d be if someone showed you a pretty spell but wouldn’t tell you how it worked?”
“Yes. And you’d tell me it was rude to ask.”
“So it was, but these are different times. Adversity is binding us closer—both this lot of yours, and that group I told you of in Ero.”
“Your Wormhole wizards?” Arkoniel chuckled.
“Yes. How many other little cabals do you suppose there are, out there?”
“There are the Harriers. They were the first.”
Iya’s lips tightened in distaste. “I suppose you’re right. When I first heard of them I thought it couldn’t last. Yet here we are.” She shook her head. “Yes, different times, indeed.”
Arkoniel glanced back at the warm glow in the windows. “I like it, Iya. I enjoy seeing so many children together, and teaching them. I like sharing magics with the others, too.”
She patted his hand and rose to go. “It’s what you’re meant for, my dear.”
“How do you mean? As soon as we’ve accomplished your task, it will all go back to the way it was before.”
“I’m not so sure. Do you recall what I told you of my vision at Afra?”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t tell you everything. I saw you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, standing in a great, shining white palace filled with wizards, with an apprentice by your side.”
“Wythnir?”
“No, you were a very old man in my vision. It must have been centuries from now and the child was still very young. I didn’t understand at the time but now I think I begin to see the significance.”
Arkoniel looked up at the keep again and shook his head. “It’s no shining palace.”
“Ah, but you’re not old yet, either. No, I think we are seeing the very beginning of a path that will shape your life.”
“Both our lives.”
“I suspect not.”
The words sent a stab of dread through him. “I don’t know what you mean, Iya, but believe me, you’ll be welcome anywhere I go. It will probably be you who builds that white palace. You just saw too far, that’s all.”
Iya tucked her hand under his arm as they walked back up the hill. “Perhaps you’re right. Whatever it means, I know what I was shown, and I am content.”
Neither of them said anything for a while. As they reached the bridge, she asked, “How are you coming along with that doorway spell of yours? You still have most of your fingers, I see.”
“Actually, I have some exciting news. I showed it to Vornus and he saw something similar practiced by a centaur mage in the Nimra Mountains. He calls it translocation magic. I think that describes it better than doorway. It isn’t anything as simple as that, but rather a vortex that sucks objects away like a whirlwind. The problem is that the vortex spins too fast. If I can slow it somehow, I might even be able to transport people.”
“Be careful, dear boy! That’s a dangerous path you’re on. I’ve thought so since you first showed it to me.”
“Don’t worry, we’re using rats and mice for now.” He smiled wryly. “Given our latest attempts, I suspect the keep will be free of vermin before we’re through. All the same, I have hope.”
“That’s not the only danger I was thinking of. You must always consider the consequences of such power. Promise me that you’ll keep this a secret for now.”
“I will. I trust Vornus and Lyan, but I’m not so sure about Malkanus. He has power enough as it is, and seems to enjoy it for it’s own sake.”
“You have a discerning heart, Arkoniel. I’ve always thought so. If you don’t let yourself be blinded by pity, it will serve you well.”
Arkoniel flinched at the hint of reproach behind her words. Though she’d never said as much, he knew that she’d never entirely forgiven him for sparing Ki.