8. Defiance #3
The longer they stood outside his gate in the snow and mud, the weaker they looked.
Valor wondered if the King could really be so naive as to not realize they were likely witnessing the first stages of what would undoubtedly become a full-blown coup d’état, possibly within a matter of months.
Saladin hinted carefully along those same lines during their audience with the Magus Imperius, but the King would not budge.
He insisted they settle this “little problem” without letting it escalate into actual violence.
Valor strongly got the impression the King was more worried about the blame pointing at him, particularly in the newspapers, for the fuck-ups at Bonescastle and Malcroix, and that he much preferred to step back until everything just “magically” went back to the way it was.
His imagination couldn’t stretch to “coup,” or even real disorder.
He was also undoubtedly sensitive to the protests that erupted the first time Malefic had been imprisoned. The King had decided to appear generous and magnanimous this time, to be the hero. He would hold his arms out to Malefic and tell him all was forgiven.
Valor found this indefensibly stupid.
Could their King truly be this naive about the depth of the problem Malefic posed for him, and for the political caste as a whole?
Again, Valor didn’t know if the royals in power actually feared Malefic, or if their figurehead was far stupider than he had guessed.
It’s possible Roland had gotten complacent in his old age, and simply decided to ignore the “little problem” until someone else dealt with it, preferably in a way that made him look good, or until it went away on its own.
In any case, he seemed to be in denial that this could be anything more than a problem of public relations.
From what the Magus Imperius reported back to Saladin, Valor got the impression that everyone involved was deeply invested in the idea that nothing truly drastic could happen to the current power structure, and they needed only to wait out this rather embarrassing hiccup in the normal course of business.
Valor guessed it would be an expensive mistake.
He looked at Josef, and saw fury in the man’s dark eyes.
He wondered how many of his brothers and sisters were thinking the same thing as he. He glanced at Esalia and saw a violent look in her eyes, one that struck him as nearly predatory. She watched the mage on the other side of that gate like a lion watching a gazelle.
“This is your last chance,” Saladin said. He drew up to his full height, pulling Valor’s eyes to his broad back. “Allow us entry, or this matter will not end peacefully, friend.”
For the first time, the servant on the other side of the gate let his mask fall.
He stared at Saladin, his eyes glowing with visible contempt.
“It was never going to end peacefully for us, lapdog,” the mage sneered.
“It’ll only end peacefully for you if you step aside.
Let us take back what is rightfully ours.
” His lips twitched. “Or, if you’re truly loyal to your bloodline and kin, brother Saladin, you can fight alongside us.
Do that, and you’ll be here when the real war comes… and share in the spoils.”
Valor went totally still.
So did the praecuri to either side of him.
Before any of them could speak, the mage on the other side of the gate abruptly vanished.
A loud sucking, popping noise trembled the air.
Josef and a few others near to the iron bars stepped back in shock, then looked around on either side of the long drive and its dense hedges and trees.
Valor wondered if the gaunt wizard had been a projection of some kind, if the mage had never really been on the driveway at all.
When he looked down and saw footprints in the snow, and remembered the sound of air being sucked back into the vacated space, he decided he must have been there, in the flesh.
Which meant he’d… what?
Teleported?
Phased?
Those were not gifts available to many Magicals, if any.
No, the more logical explanation was some kind of homing spell, like what servants used to bring objects back to specified locations for ease of collection and cleaning. The spelled wizard had simply moved so quickly, it looked like he vanished.
Generally, those spells weren’t used on living beings, since it was so easy to accidentally shove them through walls, doors, windows, and other solid objects. Magicals weren’t as easy to reconfigure on the other side as laundry and plates and silver utensils.
Generally, if a Magical got vaporized in the process of transport, it killed them.
Was this something Dark Cathedral was experimenting with now? Using homing spells to move their acolytes near-instantly from one place to another?
Valor’s eyes returned to Saladin.
Unlike the others near to the gate, the Praetorian had not stepped back when the dark sorcerer seemed to vanish. He continued to stare up at the black tower, its few lights barely visible through the dense fog.
Valor followed his gaze up the length of that long drive, past the central fountain and up the stairs and dark walls of the tower itself. That last stretched higher to the heavens than he could see through the swirling mist.
Valor wondered if maybe the mist was magicked, too.
It definitely created a disorienting effect, particularly on the black stone walls and distant stairs leading to the front door. The entirety of the outer grounds and drive slid in and out of view as the pearlescent fog slithered between the various shapes.
“So it is over, then,” Saladin said, under his breath.
Valor felt his chest clench.
The words felt true, but he didn’t know exactly how Saladin meant them.
Maybe he just didn’t want to know.