The Kindly One

IX. A Glimpse

Radek fell out of bed, clutching his head. He had been attuned to Yssa for months now, keeping an eye on the tremor of an ancient, strange magic. Now he felt like he'd looked straight into the sun, his vision blurred and his head pounding. His whole body was trembling faintly. Whatever that was, he'd most certainly felt it. Every sighted mage in Zaeylael had to have.

"What's wrong?" Folami asked, her exotic accent comforting in the dark of their room. His wife was a curvy woman from Ethilir, with chocolate skin and curly black hair. She was about ten years younger than him, just barely turning thirty. Her dark eyes were worried as she lit the oil lamp by the bed.

"'Tis impossible to say," he said. "I...by the light of the Pharos..."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Manifestation?" Folami wasn't a mage, but she had a keen mind and a husband who often needed assistance in his research.

"No," he murmured. "Manipulation mayhap, but across so many miles, 'tis hard to tell. 'Twas in Yssa, certes."

"I thought manipulations were small and suited more for apprentices, those who don't have the skill to actually conjure," Folami said, getting out of bed. She pulled on her robe and then went over to help her husband up. "Besides, a Yssan hedge-witch seldom has any training. I can't imagine them doing much."

"That was no apprentice." He didn't know much more than that, but he knew that with certainty. He got to his feet with her aid, still feeling unsteady. "Too powerful." He ran his hand through his cinnamon colored hair. "Mayhap they woke a First World relic? 'Tis not within my ken. That was...I have never felt aught like that before. It was ancient, Fol."

"Then Královna Vrana needs to know," Folami said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And don't you let a word of it out near the High Král. What he doesn't know yet won't hurt him."

Radek's wife's distaste for the man was nigh legendary. He nodded, going over to grab his pants. "The others will tell him."

"They haven't been watching east, husband mine. I would wager they can tell him that it was there, but not where it came from."

"One hopes," Radek said with a small nod as he pulled on his pants. "Methinks Chvátal's retrieval has not gone so smoothly."

"She took Král Hustovi with her. If she hasn't broken a bone jumping out of a brothel's window after him yet, the man should be checked for demonic possession," Folami said dryly. "Smooth though he may be, I somehow doubt he makes any endeavor easier."

Radek chuckled and tugged his shirt over his head. "Love thee," he said before kissing her softly. "I may not be back 'til morn."

"I don't mind. It's for a good cause." His wife flashed him a smile, but it was a concerned one. "Be careful. Any ears may be listening, even after dusk."

"Always." A man didn't survive to Radek's age in the Court without a large amount of care. While the nobles wouldn't strike physically at a mage, there were plenty of other mages who had no such compunctions. Power fed the unscrupulous, and nowhere was that more true than Zaeylael. Even the Pharos was not immune to the corrosive effect of politics. Mages had their own layer of infighting that complemented the nobles' nicely.

He stepped out into the broad avenues of Zaeylael. The city was massive, even compared to the other capitals. The only one that could have truly competed had been Sarom, and since the original city had burned, Zaeylael could now claim the title of Gem of the East. So much of the city was First World spires of glass and white stone, their lower levels woven together to form an organic web of delicate arches and narrow walkways. Gardens bloomed everywhere, many of them incorporated into the thousands of aqueducts that were an integral part of the city's daily life. Even in the dead of night, Zaeylael was alive and glowing with lights of every color. He walked beneath the flames of the lamps, many of them surrounded by painted glass or colored paper to give them hues in imitation of magelight. The people of Zaeylael were a diverse group, but under the cover of darkness, a rougher element surfaced from the Leyan id. The polished nobles were all abed, save for those who intended to have a good time by doing very bad things. That meant the commoners could enjoy things without having to watch their manners so.