The disclosure had caught her by surprise. One of the uncanny abilities Karhol had was a symbiotic relationship with her, and this included knowing what she was feeling and thinking; even when the thoughts were something she sought to hide.
The bird had ruffled its feathers and was now preening itself with wild abandon. Alicia's legs were getting stiff, and she sat down at the edge of the bed, working to take off her boots as she tried to figure out a way to relay her concerns to the familiar. Most likely the familiar already knew about it, but it made her feel better to get it off her chest anyway.
Yes Karhol, you know they sent me on this mission expecting me to fail. Even so, they were insistent about me finding out the wizard's location. It's an odd assignment for someone who hasn't even worn the title of Mage for a year. As Marcius said, it is also weird for me to have to travel so much just to get a rogue wizard to sign a piece of paper, not sure what magic it even contains either. Not to mention the question of why they waited so long to request the contract, or why are they are so up in arms over it now.
If there is one thing that I have learned while being apprenticed at the Academy, it is that ambition is the one thing that is in no short supply. Everyone has their hidden motives it seems. This wouldn't be the first time they had gotten rid of someone they deemed inappropriate to the Academy by sending them on an impossible assignment.
She flexed her toes, now gratefully free of the leather boots. Placing them next to her bed, she happily buried herself under the covers, away from the pervading night chill that had begun its way into her room. Goosebumps were already crawling their way up her arm. The fire was nearly out now; only smoldering embers remained, struggling to stay lit. She gave a flick of her wrist and the sole candle burning rebelliously by her bedstand gave a halfhearted flicker, and then went out, smothered by the simple can-trip. Snugly secure under the warm quilt, she finished her explanation.
It wouldn't surprise me if some overzealous wizard got it into his head that he'd gain Denician's favor by routing a major, if problematic, rogue wizard. Then by sending me, they might get rid of two perceived blemishes upon the Academy. Despite what I told Marc, I really can't guarantee that they won't send a squad of Inquisitors to kill the dwarf once they learn his location.
Inquisitors were a sect of Academy wizards specially trained to excel on the fast paced battlefield of magic, among other less reputable areas which the name implied. Armed with a usually potent bag of conflict oriented quick cast spells, they were an exercise in the deadly application of magic. They were particularly good at killing other magic users, which is what they were used for, serving as enforcers to those who were declared to have gone against the canon of the Academy. Typically, wizards treated them as one would expect a wolf among sheep to be received.
As powerful as the dwarf was reported to be, Alicia couldn't ignore the danger a squad of Inquisitors would present him, especially if he was caught unawares. She felt disturbed at the thought. A bit surprised, she hastily put it out of her mind.
The raven had taken his customary position on her bed post, his form a dark outline in the rapidly diminishing illumination from the fireplace; crimson eyes mere pinpricks in the dark.
The wheels have been set into motion, Aly. There is naught you can do but see the results. The familiar obviously meant for it to be comforting, but for some reason it unsettled her. She flipped over to her side and buried her face in the crook of her arm.
Tell me Karhol, why are wizards so self destructive? You would think a group of educated men. . . and one woman, she added sullenly, would be able to get along. Instead we argue and plot behind each other's backs. Even I've done some. . . unsavory things in my quest for recognition. We could do so much good for the people of this world.
There was a long stretch of silence before the raven responded, and Alicia was almost relieved when the voice once again glimmered within the depths of her mind.
We are all held prisoners by the life we chose to lead, Aly. The results of our choices cannot be fought against. A willow bends with the wind, while a proud tree will splinter before it. Wizards are beings of power, perhaps it is a law of nature, something to regulate those who in reality are above most nuisances of normal life? With your skills, the necessities of life are easy to acquire, what else is left?
It seems, from my observations, that once the basics are met, people often pick extraneous goals for life. Be it power, an ideal, or even love, they need something to strive for. Being one who can use the craft gives you power, and those with power usually seek more power to fill that void of emptiness. They seek the company of their kin, but end up trying to usurp each other in the end.
It is a vicious cycle.
"When did you become so smart, Karhol?" She whispered out loud, her voice awkward in the quiet room. The answer had unnerved her, but she did her best to try and hide it, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
Your concerns are my concerns, Aly. I just have more time to dwell upon them. As you learn, I too learn. We are bonded together by the pact you forged four years ago.
She tried closing her eyes, but sleep eluded her, for one part of what Karhol had said stuck in her mind. What's my purpose in life? Is it merely the acquisition of power? Is it right to ensnare others within the web of my goals? Is that the emptiness I feel?
The thoughts formed an uneasy knot in her stomach, a feeling of dissatisfaction that stayed with her as she sought the freedom that only sleep would deliver.
❧ ❧ ❧
Marcius groaned, flopping around in his bed. Sunlight was pouring in through his windows, which were wet from the morning dew, forming annoyingly distorted patterns of light and dark across his face.
With a single open eye from the depths of his pillow, he briefly watched a spider traverse the dangerous web of early morning condensation, carefully picking the safest route to a dry spot closest to the window. Watching the ordeal was a pretty good excuse to forestall leaving the sanctuary of the bed for a bit longer.
With another grunt, he swung himself to a sitting position. A quick glance at his pocket watch told him it was a few minutes past eleven. His body felt physically drained, even though he had done little physical work, and his brain just felt downright lethargic.
His body complained the entire way as he dragged himself out of bed to the washbasin, where he tried to rid himself of the grime and dust that had accumulated from the day before. Feeling better after most of the filth had been washed away, he threw on a deep royal purple silk shirt and a pair of comfortable green britches.
The smell of succulent cooking had already made its way upstairs, doing much to alleviate the tension that was left over from previous day. As he fastened the last of the straps on his pants, the events of yesterday stuck out in his mind. He really hoped that today was less confusing. Everywhere he turned only seemed to lead to more questions. In particular, the events at the inn bothered him for some reason.
He glanced over to the magical contract discarded haphazardly on the dresser. Marcius wondered what the Mage had meant when saying that his father had willing gave her information on the dwarven wizard. It didn't make sense. How could he hide a fugitive by letting everybody know what was going on? He resolved to ask his that particular question the next time he saw him, but first his stomach demanded his immediate attention.
"Master Marcius," Clarissa greeted him as he entered the kitchen. She was already putting away the dishes.
"Good morning, Son!" A surprise welcomed him in the form of his father. By this time of day he was usually off working at the docks. "I decided to take a late breakfast today. I was looking forward to talking to you a bit, and to find out how your quest for familiar items went," he explained as if reading Marcius's thoughts.
As Marcius sat down, Clarissa was quick to serve him a steaming bowl of potato soup along with a cool pitcher of wine, before tactfully excusing herself from the room. The soup was still hot; it trailed pleasant warmth down his throat as he ate.
Marcius went through the entirety of the proceedings from the day before, leaving no fact unsaid as Lian quietly listened. As Marcius finished, Lian took a large swig of his wine, smacking his lips in appreciation, before speaking. "So that would explain that lovely creature and two kegs of beer that arrived early this morning, eh? They are both out in the stables. Take a look after we're done here." Lian's face noticeably sobered, "Now two things concern me. First is the bar fight. I can't stress how important it is to keep your magical orientation quiet around this town. Unlike Lars and Clarissa, they would be far less understanding of your passion."
"But father. . . " Marcius began.
Lian quickly held up a hand to forestall any explanations. "I understand why you did it, but do you understand the consequences of your actions? The regulars of the tavern might easily forget what happened because of the free beer, but what about the barkeep and most likely that dwarf? It wouldn't take much to blackmail us under threat of taking their tale to the Sheriff or the Duke."
He held up his hand as Marcius again started to deny the accusations. "You know how this town and the Duke feel about magic. It wouldn't take much for them to trump up some false charges just to jail us. Just be more careful okay? If it wasn't for the Duke being scared of angering the Academy, that wizard that visited us would probably already be clapped in chains. He doesn't share the King's open views of people, and neither does that warmongering oggron of a Sheriff either."