Bad News
At times, the position of Grandmaster can feel incredibly mundane, but it’s important not to be lulled into a false sense of security. You never know what crisis is lurking just around the corner.
From the journal of Grandmaster Fawn Maitre, previous Grandmaster of the Crux.
THE WEEK AFTER OUR meeting with the King is strained and quiet. Arlon seems to be throwing himself into his work to avoid the inevitable, and I can only follow his lead. Though the question of when, of how he’s going to break this to Olbric, rests just behind my teeth.
It feels like an eggshell of a topic to broach. Because on the way back to the Crux after our meeting with the King concluded, Arlon only said one thing to me: do not breathe a word of this to anyone.
As uncomfortable as it is, I obey. I haven’t seen much of Olbric since the day we cast the sending spell, but in the brief times I glimpse him in the mess hall or with Dom, it’s hard not to feel like I’m lying to him.
Arlon warned me that this position could feel impossible some days, but only now do I understand why. Keeping such a monumental thing from Olbric hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
We’ve been friends since our very first day at the Crux.
Olbric had just arrived from the Eastern Tower, while I was fresh off the boat from Kenitka.
Navigating a new place was far easier to do with him by my side, and me by his.
I can only hope that our friendship survives once the command from the King comes out.
At least Dom seems to be acting more like himself. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that shy smile given so readily. It helps ease some of my churning worries. Even if things are about to go to shit in Olbric’s world, at least Dom will be there to support him.
“Galiva, would you notify Farlan that the anchor point in the third floor, third room of the abjuration tower seems to be loose? He may ask for your assistance in fixing it. It’s the room Emil and Sergei usually use.”
Arlon’s voice draws me from my thoughts. I’d been idly poking at my half-eaten breakfast, but I notice that Arlon has yet to touch the bowl I brought for him.
“Of course, sir,” I say. “But I’d appreciate that bowl being emptied by the time I get back.”
Arlon pauses in the middle of scribbling his note to look up at me, eyebrow raised.
I meet his gaze levelly. It’s not passed my attention that he’s not sleeping, that there’s a gauntness in his cheeks from how little he’s eating.
Finally, he lets out a sigh before he sets his pen down and picks up his bowl.
I suppress a grin. “I’ll be back.”
Arlon waves me off, and I head to the posterior courtyard where Quartermaster Farlan’s office is. Together, we head up to the third floor of the evocation tower to take down the loose anchor point and install a new one with the help of a low level transmutation.
By the time I return to Arlon’s office, his bowl is empty, and I settle down to finish mine in a comfortable silence. There’s blessedly no appointments or meetings on the calendar today. It’s a rarity anymore, but we barely get a chance to enjoy the quiet before the air over Arlon’s desk ripples.
Arlon looks up, back straightening in surprise. From behind, I can only see the mirage of the spell, but my blood chills when I hear the crash of magic.
“Reneta?” Arlon breathes.
I topple my chair in my rush to circle his desk. In the sending, Reneta’s long braid has come unraveled, her spectacles hanging low on her nose. Sweat dots her skin, and her hands are thrown up to maintain the abjuration surrounding her. Shielding herself and the other Tower Wizards.
Beside me, Arlon’s gone eerily still. “Where are you?”
“North of Belingrad. We failed to get a ship out of Hastett and were trying to circle the loch to take the northern road! I never imagined it was being watched!” Ren’s voice is pinched with urgency, and she winces as something impacts her shield with a crash.
Her eyes fly wide with panic. “Sir, I can’t hold them off for much longer! ”
Even as I watch, the wizards closest to her reach up to pluck spells from her necklace. Divvying them out. It’s hard to make out faces, but I don’t need to. I can feel the aura of fear radiating through the sending.
Arlon yanks a desk drawer open, fishing out his full necklace. “Do you have any sort of anchoring spell?”
“No, sir,” Ren says as another loud crash slams against her shield. “There’s fifteen of them, but I-I don’t think they aim to kill us.”
Arlon’s hand closes tight around a fistful of spells. “No, I doubt they will.”
Awful clarity settles over me. It’s chased by a strange sort of numbness as I watch the Tower wizards prepare for a final resistance.
Twenty-three wizards are about to fall into enemy hands. And we have no way of stopping it from happening. Not without an anchor to get us to them.
Arlon is silent, his head low. “Stand down, Ren,” he says at last. “Your lives are more important than trying to win a losing fight.”
“Grandmaster -“
“Peace talks are to take place in Marikadar between the powers of the continent. I will negotiate your release.” His voice is rough as he lifts his eyes to meet hers through the sending. “I’m sorry, Ren. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this.”
Reneta swallows, a scared, wavering smile on her lips, but no reply comes. Instead, there’s a final crash against the shield, the sound of magic shattering apart, before the sending disappears.
Arlon shoves away from his desk with enough force that the heavy piece of furniture scoots across the floor.
“Dammit, dammit!” He starts to pace as I brace myself against his chair.
“I told Thora how risky it was to send them off without their godsdamned spells. I told her! But she was so afraid of them deserting she didn’t fucking listen! ”
It’s a rare time that Arlon yells, but under all that anger is the same anguish I feel. Ren was my sister’s apprentice. She’s my direct rival for the title of Grandmaster, but I feel no relief at what’s happened. Only a bone-deep ache of loss that accompanies my buzzing thoughts.
Slowly, they settle on one heavy realization. “We have to make sure these peace talks succeed.”
Arlon lets out a long breath, his hands dragging through his hair. “And so we will.”
He says it with finality. As if it’ll be that easy. And I can only pray he’s right.
I’M GLAD TO LEARN THAT when Arlon goes to the palace with an emergency, he’s heard. The guards we encounter at the gates scramble to find someone who can speak to us. Though Arlon is hoping to speak to the King, it’s Captain Thora who takes us to one of the conference rooms inside.
“Where is His Majesty?” Arlon asks.
“He is indisposed with his Queen Mother, but I will ensure he hears whatever news you have,” Thora says. “What is this emergency?”
Arlon and I share a frustrated look before he tells her, though her face remains carefully neutral as he recounts Reneta’s sending.
“And you’re certain they were intercepted by Immen forces?” Thora asks.
“Reneta reported they were north of Belingrad, heading towards the northern road. That deep into Immenbach, who else could it be?” Arlon’s voice is hard with repressed frustrations.
Thora is quiet for a moment before she lets out a long sigh. “Say it. I know you’re dying to.”
Arlon’s lips curl into something like a sneer. “With twenty-three wizards’ lives now hanging in the balance, do you really think I’d stoop so low as to say ‘I told you so’?”
Thora levels an unamused look at him. “We leave for the peace talks in less than a week,” she says at last. “The only difference this makes is now Immenbach has slightly more negotiating power.”
Arlon’s face darkens with anger. “I’m sure the wizards of the Eastern Tower will find solace knowing their lives and freedoms have been reduced to ‘negotiating power for Immenbach’ in the eyes of Straetham.”
“Arlon,” I say gently. Just from the look she gives him, I can tell that Arlon is already testing Thora’s patience.
His eyes flick to me, and he takes a deep breath, reining his anger back in.
Thora also takes a moment before she asks, “Have you informed Olammed about his required presence in Marikadar?”
“His name is Olbric,” Arlon says sharply.
I silently agree with the correction, but this sniping match is getting exhausting. “He hasn’t been informed yet, Captain. Olbric’s relationship with his family in Marikadar makes this... a delicate situation.”
Thora doesn’t seem impressed by that answer, but Arlon says quietly, “I was going to make an announcement about the Tower wizards tonight. I plan on speaking with Olbric first thing tomorrow.”
Thora gives a curt nod. “The sooner we can finalize the roster, the better. I will plan on being at the Crux in the morning in case he proves difficult.”
Arlon’s eyes narrow. “That won’t be necessary. Olbric is one of my wizards, which makes this a magical matter. I can handle it.”
Thora’s expression is cool, and it’s like she can see how difficult of an ask this is for both of us. She comes to some silent decision as she tilts her chin up.
“And I will be there to ensure that you do.”