Copyright © 2005 by Blake Charlton. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, reposting, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission of the author.
Home Samples Prolog Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Blind Magistar Shannon looked up from his research journal.
His eyes presented neither iris nor pupil but were everywhere pure white. If they had still been perceptive to the mundane world, he would have seen his cramped study: bookshelves lining the walls, a wide writing desk, a narrow window.
But now his eyes were dark to everything but magical text. So even though he was looking at the door, he could not see the door. Rather he saw through it to the hall where a cloud of golden paragraphs swarmed above the head of an unknown author.
Shannon squinted at the text. It was a light-providing flamefly spell written with bold words and complex sentences. The author favored compound appositives: an unusual structure. A smile of recognition curled under Shannon's beard. It had been a long time since he had seen this spellwright.
He closed his research journal--a handsome, leather-bound codex about two hands tall. Its spine and face presented three embossed asterisks allowing him to identify the book by touch. Idly, he traced the asterisks with his fingers and waited for the newcomer to knock.
But she did not knock. A moment passed. He could not see her body through the door, only the prose she was casting. He frowned when she terminated the flamefly and let its paragraphs deconstruct into heatless cinders that slowly snowed down to the floor. What was she waiting for? "Come in, Amadi," he called in his warmest tone.
Slowly the door hinges creaked. A woman's calm voice spoke, "I see that old Magistar Shannon isn't as blind as rumor claims." The door creaked shut.
"Old?" Shannon laughed while standing. "I'm not so antique as to forget your sharp tongue. Come and embrace your ancient teacher."
Memory guided him around the desk. Amadi's approaching footsteps were light, hesitant. But her embrace was strong and quick. He had forgotten how tall she was. "But the rumors are true," he said while stepping back: "I'm blind as a cave fish."
She paused, "You don't look old enough to have lost sight."
He chuckled. "Then it's your eyes, not mine, we should worry about. I'm nearly done with my second century. In fact, I begin ghostwriting next year. What could you possibly see that suggests youth?"
She cleared her throat as she had done when she was a girl. "I see," she said seriously, "a tall northern spellwright with broad shoulders and a straight spine. I see his shoulder-length Northern locks--though I suppose Southerners call them dreadlocks. Age has silvered them, but men of only one century would envy their thickness. I see a close-trimmed ivory beard. I see two thin lips and a proud, hooked nose. I see tawny skin unwrinkled."
"And you see two eyes blank as the sun," he chuckled. "So don't try to flatter me so, Amadi; it only reminds me of your advantage. My familiar is not about to look at you for me. And how curious I am to see you after...how long has it been now? Forty years?"
Amadi's leather soles whispered against the wood floor as she stepped closer. "Your fingers may look," she said calmly.
This was unexpected "Well that--" his voice died as she took his hands and placed them on her brow.
An uncomfortable pause.
Then, slowly, his fingertips flowed onto her brief eyebrow ridge; down into the gully of her deep-set eyes; up the sharp nasal promontory; softly over the two pursed lips; along the delicate chin.
His memory provided color: ivory for her skin, sable for her hair, watery blue for her eyes. Gradually, imagination mixed touch with recollection to produce the image of a pale wizard with delicate northerner locks and an impassive expression.
Shannon swallowed. He hadn't thought seeing an old student would be like this. "Your hair must show a little white by now," he said more quickly than he would have liked.
"More than a little," she said, stepping away. "I am a hundred-thirty-one now. But never mind that. Will you tell me how you recognized me through your door?"
"Oh, yes...as I mentioned, my mundane vision is gone, but my spellwriter's sight now pierces all manner of solid things. It's a rare talent. Through the wall I recognized the compound appositives in your flamefly spell."
She laughed softly. "After all this time, you can still recognize my prose style?"
He shrugged. "I heard your name among the Astrophell delegates to our convocation."
"Magistar, could I--"
"Please," he interrupted, "call me Shannon. It's what my southern friends use. They have trouble with my northern first name."
She laughed. "I don't think I can. Do you remember, back in Astrophell, catching me and the other acolytes out of bed? How can I call you Shannon remembering that?"
He joined his laugh to hers while stepping back to his chair. "I had nearly forgotten. What were you little monsters sneaking into the academy? A pair of muddy pigs? Please take a seat."
"Pigs? In Trillion?" she said. Her chair creaked. "It was only one, very clean goat."
"Whatever it was, you certainly can call me Shannon now that you're a grand wizard." He sat slowly in his own, comfortable chair.
"Well then, Shannon" she said playfully, "I bring word of your granddaughter."
His hands clenched into fists. Family was a delicate subject for all wizards, but most especially so for him. "You do?" he said, forcing his smile to neither broaden nor wilt.
Amadi cleared her throat. "She married a wealthy Ixonian merchant last year."
Shannon's throat felt reed thin. What was this woman playing at, casually spilling such personal news? "Wonderful," he heard himself say. "What else can you tell me?"
"Little, I'm afraid. The merchant's named Nalu. They've taken a house--" She paused. "Forgive me. It must be difficult discussing the life exile took away from you."
Fighting back a frown, Shannon forced himself to wave her comment away. "Bah, it was no exile; I accepted this position. It's a more peaceful life than my political one in Astrophell. Besides, we wizards swear off family for a reason. In the beginning, it was difficult getting only fragmented news of Astrophell and my son. But now I have my research and my students. We are discovering such wonderful things, Amadi. Just this morning I received permission to begin casting my primary research spell."
Amadi's chair creaked. "And you're content with such a...calm life?"
Abruptly Shannon realized that she might be trying to recruit him to a political cause. Caution was needed. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "it feels as if another author led that bustling life back in Astrophell. Often I think of my son, but here..." He made a show of running his gaze across his books, seeing through their leather bindings to the sentences held within. "Here I enjoy a quieter, academic life."
He laughed and tried to change the subject. "Besides, after twenty years of applying for it, I just moved into new living quarters above the Starkey Garden. Janitorial is renovating the gardens now; it's not much to see now, heaps of dirt and clay, but it will be beautiful. I could show you sometime."
Amadi's chair creaked again. "Some Astrophell wizards have been quoting your 'Complaint to the Long Council'."
His grin faded. "It was my best speech. I'm glad some find it useful. But that life is over. There's no use baiting my appetite for it."
Amadi said nothing. A breeze at the window made the table's parchment crinkle.
"But never mind me," he said, determined to change the subject. "How have you spent the past four decades, Amadi? Studying diplomacy perhaps? Is that where this talk of my past comes from?"
"I am a witch-hunter now," she said.
"A witch-hunter!" he mused, stroking his beard. "Yes, yes. You must be wonderful at..."
She cleared her throat. As a girl she had often done so before making a boast. "I have been given command of Astrophell's lead hunt. In fact, I led the delegation down here. It's a wonderful feeling. I even have a personal secretary: a young Ixonian named Kale; he's only a lesser wizard but still bright and capable."
Shannon licked his lips. "But why has Astrophell sent witch-hunters to our convocation?"
Amadi coughed. Suddenly Shannon's blindness frustrated him. He wanted to see what expression was painting her face. Was this more than an attempt to recruit him?
"It was a long journey from Trillinon," she said. "And heaven only knows why our Order bought this gargantuan stronghold from the Lornish crown. It's so far away from civilization. Granted, it made a fine sight from the Westernmost Road--the highest tower spiring up from the mountainside to dwarf the peaks behind."
She was avoiding the question. Shannon set his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "But why," he repeated, "would Astrophell send a delegation of witch-hunters?"
"Because," Amadi replied, her words curt, "the diplomats needed protection."
"I see," he rumbled after a moment.
"Shannon," she said slowly, "is this room safe from prying ears?"
He nodded. "Quite safe. Do you bring news from abroad?"
"News from within."
He grunted.
She shifted in her seat before answering in a low tone: "Murder in Starhaven."
Shannon's heart began to strike faster. So this was Amadi's cause! She wanted his help finding a villain. It made sense. He was well positioned within Starhaven, and her investigation might have to tread on dangerous ground.
"Who has died?" he asked quickly.
She paused. "I'd rather not say just yet. This is a sensitive issue; one we must hide from the rest of the academy until the convocation is over."
He frowned. "You court my curiosity, and then refuse to tell me the victim's name?
Amadi made a low sound in her throat. "Bare with me, Magistar. Not five hours ago, the Astrophell delegates were touring the walls. We spotted--just outside and crumpled on a boulder--what we thought was a dying woman."
"What you thought was a dying woman," Shannon echoed.
"She was already dead, but her body was filling itself with virulent Numinous and Magnus language. We must have just missed her fall from the Spindle Bridge."
Shannon frowned. "She fell from the Spindle?"
"Is that odd? What can you tell me of the bridge?"
Shannon's fingers began to trace the asterisks embossed on his research journal. He did not want to involve himself in the investigation, but surely sharing such common information couldn't bind him to any cause.
"Very odd," he said at last. "The Chthonic People built the Spindle not long after they finished Starhaven. But it leads nowhere. Spans nearly a mile of air only to run right into a cliff. But the Chthonics did cut beautiful designs into the rock. Just north of the bridge's end is a foliate pattern--ivy leaves I believe--and south is a simple hexagonal pattern."
"Any explanation for the carvings? Or the bridge itself?"
Shannon shook his head. "Old folktales about the Chthonic People building a mountain road to a paradise called Heaven Tree Valley. Supposedly when the Neosolar Empire began massacring the Chthonics, their goddess led them to the Heaven Tree and then dropped a mountain on the road. Some say the Spindle used to lead to the road."
"Any evidence for such a tale?" Amadi asked.
"None," Shannon grunted. "But every so often the antiquarians probe the mountainside with a sea of text, trying to open the way to the Heaven Tree. So far they've found only rock." He paused. "Do you think the...unfortunate woman's death is connected to any of this?"
Amadi's chair creaked as if she were shifting in her seat. "No, but I am grateful for any information. Is there any other reason a wizard might find herself on the Spindle Bridge?"
Shannon smoothed his mustache and grimaced. "Suicide?"
"Impossible. Fresh blood ran down the boulders, but on her face her blood had blacked. There was a struggle before she fell."
"Amadi..." Shannon said after a long thoughtful breath. "I am saddened by this tragedy...and yet...please do not think me heartless, but I hesitant to become involved. I must think of my research and my students. Helping you might win me unwanted enemies. However...if you refrain from mentioning my name, I'll lend whatever help I can. But...to do so, I'll need to know the victim's name."
Amadi shifted in her seat again, and then after a long thoughtful pause said, "It was Dean Nora Finn, the grammarian. Did you know her?"
Shannon felt his hands go cold. He swore under his breath. "I grieve to hear that. Nora and I both cared for the Drum Tower's students."
He paused for a moment and then swore again. "As the Drum Tower's master, I see to their residential and personal matters. As the dean, Nora governed their academics. But these students...don't study. So Nora had almost no contact with them. We were both being considered for the same Chair. Rivals for it I suppose."
"I see," Amadi replied.
Shannon shook his head. "This couldn't come at a worse time with the convocation beginning. And my poor research! I just sent a message to my apprentice. Now everything must be hidden from the foreigners. And how--" His voice died as something occurred to him. "Amadi, shouldn't you report this to the provost's officers?"
"I have already spoken to Provost Montserrat. My report impressed him; he has commanded me to lead an investigation into Dean Finn's death."
Frowning Shannon steepled his fingers again. "Congratulations," he said.
"Thank you. On the journey down here I read Provost Montserrat's treatise. Did you know he holds to the counter-prophecy?"
"Yes," Shannon rumbled, brows lowered, "the counter-prophecy's most influential supporter in the South."
Amadi continued. "Undoubtedly a few Starhaven witch-hunters will resent my command. But they will see the importance of concealing this investigation from our guests."
"I am still not sure," Shannon replied, "why you are telling me any of this. You could have learned about the Spindle Bridge from any wizard in the academy."
A creaking came from Amadi's chair once more. "Do you have a familiar?"
"I do," Shannon replied impatiently.
"Where is the creature?" she asked. "I would like to see it."
Shannon nodded slowly. "Certainly you may. I have sent her to deliver a message to my apprentice. But why, Amadi, are you telling me about Nora's murder?"
A long silence stretched out between them. "Because," Amadi said at last, "you are the primary suspect."
Home Samples Prolog Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five