White Wind

White Wind

Volume IV in

The Saga of Magiskeep

By

Jean E Dvorak

Cover Illustration by

David Melanson

Copypyright © 2015 by Jean E Dvorak

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2015

ISBN-10: 194248108X

ISBN-13: 978-1-942481-08-9

Jean E. Dvorak

293 Deans-Rhode Hall Road

Jamesburg, NJ 08831

http://jedvorak.wix.com/magiskeep

This book is dedicated to the memory of

Russell R., my own Whim

About the Author

Jean E. Dvorak is a retired high school English teacher. An avid horsewoman, she has competed and trained two horses to FEI level in dressage. No longer competing, she still trains her horses and those experiences are evident in the novels where horses play a significant role. From the author: Fantasy writing is very liberating. It allows the writer complete control of the world. Where else can magic exist and anything at all can happen? The writer makes the rules and can take the story anywhere imagination allows. The Magiskeep Saga was born in 1984 as a response to a challenge from her students when she assigned them a writing assignment: What would you do if you had a magic power? Since then, encouragement from a group of gaming fantasy fans on The Halfwittenberg Door message board sparked more writing. The result is a total of five full novels and several shorter novelettes in the collection. Ms. Dvorak has also written a number of stage musicals, plays, and vocal musical pieces, all of which have been performed locally in New Jersey, where she lives.

Other books in The Saga of Magiskeep:

Kingdom Beyond the Rim

Honor’s Way

The Wall Between

Silvrin Shards

White Wind

Part One

I

Salene combed her fingers though the dark waves of her husband’s hair as he lay his head against the bare skin of her swelling belly.

I can hear him thinking, Jamus said, smiling.

Already? He’s hardly had more than a season of life. He must be a bright little one. What’s on his mind? Salene asked, twining a lock of his hair around her fingers.

He says, Jamus replied, nestling against her, he finds it embarrassing to have his father make such ardent love to his mother while he’s in the room.

He does, does he? Salene replied, giving the hair a tug to make Jamus grunt between his gentle laughs. So now you tell me our child is already a prude like his father?

You think I’m a prude? Jamus asked innocently, lifting his own grey eyes to meet her amused gaze. I thought I was a fairly able lover. At least you used to say so.

Salene paused thoughtfully before answering, then she grinned, Well, my love, perhaps, within these last few minutes, I’ve forgotten the full taste of your skill. Suppose you refresh my memory.

Grinning back, Jamus slid his body up against hers, his hot flesh pressing into her softness. She embraced him and let his searching kiss close upon her as his passion filled her body. The love between them had grown and matured since their marriage and now, with the child, it had become all the more precious.

Salene had lost their first child in a vicious conspiracy of Shadows, making this one all the more precious to both of them. Jamus still worried about the Darkness, but it had been quiet for long enough since his last battle with the Shadows he felt some sense of safety now. But always, the terrible memories of the Black Dragon’s power hung over him. Until this child was safely in his arms, he would be sure to keep watch.

Outside their room in the quiet darkness of Norwin, Magiskeep lay in quiet contentment, as one with the River, and pleased with its Master.

Since his return from Arcuse, Jamus had regained his status as Master of the Keep and had begun a new rule tempered with caring justice and a keen understanding of Magician and mortal alike. The people of the village surrounding the glittering palace had grown to trust him more than they had ever trusted any Lord. Once he was back from his harrowing adventure into Arcula, he had made a point of spending many winds among them and had earned a special regard in the streets. The lessons he had learned from the Cauge had taught him a great deal about how to be a good ruler in his own land. In the circles since, he had used that understanding well.

But the Mages of the Keep did not agree.

The Master of Magiskeep belongs in the halls, Master Jorn had insisted the first time Jamus met with the Seven Masters in Council. You’d do well to follow the example set by Sagari and his fathers in this, My Lord. Sorcery doesn’t mix well among the common folk.

The common folk of Magiskeep are few and far between, Master Jorn, Jamus replied. "I would say on my trips outside these walls I’ve met no more than one truly common man among them, and he was rare in his love of a fine vegetable garden he was growing in his yard. Had he been generous enough to share some of its yield with his neighbors, I wouldn’t even have considered him common for even a moment."

That’s not what I meant, Sur Jamus. Jorn answered. I was referring to mingling with those who aren’t of the Magic.

Ah, Jamus said, nodding, the mere mortals of the Keep. Those who are here out of love or family ties to a sorcerer. I see, I see. Certainly, they as well have no right to consort with the man who governs the lives of their loved ones, I suppose. He made no effort to hide the dripping sarcasm in his voice. I should shun them, Sur?

I only meant that history has not proved alliances with mortals as a wise course for Magicians.

Mortals, Jamus replied, were all that kept me alive in Arcuse, Master. I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t offered me their kindness and generosity--given freely even after I was proven a Sorcerer. I didn’t see very many Magicians rallying to my cause.

From what you’ve told us of that world, the Sorcerers there aren’t the kind of people who’d understand you, My Lord, Senneth replied. A world of emotion rather than reason doesn’t encourage much empathy for the true Magic.

Jamus gritted his teeth. For a learned man, Senneth was ill-schooled in the reality of the worlds existing beyond the borders of this kingdom. Master of Transformation, Senneth’s head was too often in the clouds of superiority he liked to wear whenever possible. You’re a wise man in your Art, Master Senneth, but you’ve seen too little of the world. The true Magic, as you call it, flows beneath all of Turan, not just beneath our land. It offers a rainbow to those who know its secrets.

It is said in the ancient chronicles, Jired offered in his best lecture tone, the Magic has only four colors, My Lord. Solec speaks of the gold, the silver, the white, and the black in his treatise on the nature of spells.

A rainbow exists, nonetheless, Jamus said, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair at the dark wood table. He let his mind drift into memory and saw again the great rainbow Dragon, Kisel, sleeping in his cave at the bottom of the River, waiting for his rider to solve the last tapestry so they could take to the winds together. The Magic flows in every color imaginable in the deepest part of its soul.

My Lord, Joria said gently, touching Jamus’ arm with her lean fingers, you’re not going to drift away from us again, are you? I thought we’d agreed the here and now would be your concern for a while.

Jamus started and rocked forward, I’m here, Mistress. Thank you for reminding me. It’s too easy to seek refuge in memories.

Refuge, My Lord? Jorn asked, idly toying with the sleeve of his green robe as if the matter were of little concern. Are you finding a need to escape our company?

Jamus sighed, Frankly, Master Jorn, the limits of Magiskeep are often confining to me regardless of the company. Unlike you and most of your fellows here, I’ve stepped beyond this world enough to know how small a place this really is. Haven’t you ever thought beyond the Rim, Sur Jorn?

Why should I? Jorn asked. There is more than enough in Magiskeep to satisfy me.

Jired nodded, A thousand histories lie in the Great Library waiting to be studied.

A wise historian looks to the future to define the past, Sur, Jamus said. The Eldentales of Arcuse and Turan beyond the Rim are fascinating.

This is Magic’s realm, Jired replied. Here is where its secrets are kept.

If your tales were right about the color of Magic, Master Jired, then you’re wrong. The River you touch is gold. No other water flows between its banks. Arcuse lies above the silver. Don’t you wonder where the black and white currents run?

Pah! As Master Senneth has already said, the true Magic is here in our Keep. The rest? Why should it be worth a Master’s bother?

Jamus’ grey eyes had begun to smolder, but only Joria, seated just to his right, seemed to notice. Sarena, across from him, had not once lifted her gaze to his face, but now, Joria’s sharp kick under the table roused her. She looked up at Jamus, controlled the urge to shudder, and quickly intervened, The wonder of these gatherings is how so many different opinions can be so generously shared without argument. I’m always delighted to witness eight adults so capable of tolerating each other’s ideas so graciously.

Jamus glared at her, but Sarena kept her expression neutral, as if innocent of his growing frustration. As always, her calmness soothed him to the point of hot embers rather than fire. Believe what you will, Masters. I understand how challenging the knowledge of Magiskeep is for all of you. I’m glad to know the Magic is guarded by such loyal servants.

At that, Jorn, Senneth, and Jired rose, almost as one, bowed politely to the Master of Magiskeep, and then, with all dignity, marched from the room in a gallant little parade. Savel, Master of Elevation, laughed aloud as soon as they closed the door behind them. I had no idea their minds had become so small. You’d think Masters of the Seven Arts would have more sense.

You disagree?

My Lord, common sense disagrees. My Art, of all, seeks all greater than itself. The stories you told of Arcuse and the silver of its Magic were fascinating. If I hadn’t passed so many circles of my life, I’d think about going there myself, just to feel the freedom of Magic Unrestrained.

Savel, Joria said, I’m surprised at you. Your Art requires the keenest logic, and the greatest temperance. I didn’t think you had any desire at all beyond its purity.

Savel shrugged his bony shoulders in his blue robe, Perfection in a bore when you come right down to it. What’s wrong with wanting a little adventure in your life, eh? I do sneak out of here once in a while to visit a tavern or two, you know.

Joria was clearly surprised, I didn’t know. You’ve keep it secret better than I could have ever imagined.

You may be Mistress of Illusion, my dear, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are hopeless clods in your Art. I weave myself a nice disguise and walk right out the front door.

Now Joria smiled, I’d always hoped there was more to you than lofty theories and cool ideals, Savel. I’m glad you’re human after all.

Haven’t you wondered yourself sometimes exactly why Magic was created in this world, Mistress? Savel asked, smiling back at the grey robed woman. I have. The Hand must have had some reason for the Gift, and it certainly wasn’t so it could be locked away within the blustone walls of Magiskeep to be hoarded and gloated over by a bunch of dotty old men and women.

Speak for yourself, Sur, Sarena protested, laughing even as she did. There are those of us who choose to remain young, you know.

Savel bowed slightly in his chair, An admirable decision for one so beautiful, Madam, but even you have passed many circles. Age has given us all skill in our Arts, and a love for the study of them, but don’t we owe it to the Hand to question as well?

Magic, Jamus said quietly, rules here to assure Turan’s Way. The next Great Circle will open as this one closes, and if Magic does not secure the light, Darkness will reign until the next closing.

The three Masters stared at him in silence, but Jamus did not seem to notice. Memories were already pouring over him in the River’s waters and he let himself sink into their depths.

Golden liquid bore him down gently at first and then with a hungry urgency. Jamus had long ago learned to surrender to the River’s demands, waiting until he could sense its purpose before beginning to swim.

Back again so soon? the old man asked from his rocky perch on a green weeded ledge. I didn’t expect you yet.

I was called, Jamus replied, taking hold of a waving green stem to steady himself. It’s always easier to answer than to ignore my name.

You’ve learned Time in the Way, lad, and through the Dragons you’ve learned some of the Speaking. That’s two more tapestries solved, you know.

Jamus nodded, though with some uncertainty. The old man had often spoken of more kinds of Magic, though always in riddles. To be told answers so readily was quite out of character. Instead of replying himself, he waited.

Ah, I see you’ve also learned the value of silence. The silver water’s taught you to let your heart listen, eh? Good, good. Words don’t always suffice in matters of the Art, now do they? Again Jamus was silent and the old man nodded, though whether because of the water surging past his head or because he wanted to show approval, it was hard to tell. You can’t sit by the fire and wait, though, you know. The Darkwing’s brooding on you even now while we speak.

I need to rest. I have a wife to consider, and soon, a family. Arcuse nearly took all that away from me. I have a right to live for them, don’t I?

Do you think Kesel’s sleeping in his lair while you loll about, boy? You’ve turned his river and he’s mighty sore for it. Rivermasters don’t have the luxury of peace.

Jamus sighed heavily, I need time.

Then make it.

How?

You know the tapestry. Follow the weave.

More riddles.

The old man smiled a toothless grin, The River talks plain enough if you know how to listen. Then, as he had so many times before, he pushed away from the ledge and let the currents push him away.

Jamus let go of his own anchor and tried to follow, his strokes powerful against the push, but the old man seemed to melt into the gold of the water and in an instant vanished.

Now Jamus let himself sink again, the water cradling his body, soothing away his need for answers. He would let the River decide his course instead, Master and servant united in purpose.

The cave opened before him, darker than he’d remembered. For the first time in a long while, he hesitated on the threshold, reluctant to go inside.

A question? a voice asked from his right. He turned to see a woman dressed in flowing white, her equally pale hair drifting about her head and shoulders like a snowy cloud. Her eyes, as pale as ice, seemed strangely distant, focused beyond him into another space he could not see.

If I go in, Jamus replied, I will surrender my promise to those I love. If I leave now, the Shadows will gain advantage.

Is there a choice, then?

If I am indeed Rivermaster, and strong enough in the Magic, the Shadows will never truly be able to defeat me. What do they gain by a few more hours?

Yet you hesitate still? Does the truth or the possibility of truth confound you?

Suppose there is a riddle I cannot answer, or a tapestry whose weave eludes me? I know now what I know, but what will I know tomorrow to change the truth?

The woman nodded her white head, You are wise enough to be Kiselor. I am pleased for that. I did not know what to expect. It is often too hard to See to the surface, and I travel very little. The world is too dark for me.

Who are you that you wait here for me?

A weaver of tapestries.

Jamus shook his head, I won’t enter your images, Madam. I have sworn to live in my world until my son is born.

She laughed, Turan’s Way guides your fate, Kiselor. Do you think you are greater than the Hand?

The Hand grants me peace.

The Hand grants for its own purpose, not for yours. You will do as you must. She lifted her own hand in front of her face and studied it, Through to flesh and bone, to the smallest drop of blood, to the smallest drop in the smallest drop, to the moment of birth and beyond to the moment of ending. Do you see it?

I don’t understand.

The woman turned her pale eyes on Jamus and finally seemed to focus on him, You will, Lord Jamus of Magiskeep. You will. Then she began to laugh wildly and, like the old man, vanished into the waters.

Jamus squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. He was about to step into the cave when a hand on his shoulder started him back.

My Lord? Joria asked, shaking him gently, You must be here and now. Remember your promise.

Jamus opened his eyes and met Joria’s concerned gaze, What good is a promise I can’t keep? By the Blood, it’s not my choice to keep leaving.

You have Will, Jamus, use it.

He groaned, You don’t understand, Mistress. Will has nothing to do with this.

Will is all, My Lord, Savel said, moving over to them. Even the Eldenmages accepted that truth.

And how many of the Eldenmages were cursed with the name of Kiselor? Jamus asked. How could they ever understand?

Magic Elevates you to an exalted place by naming you so, Savel replied. Such Power grants great Will. It is said the River bends to the wishes of the Rivermaster.

Jamus nearly laughed aloud, I never realized how foolish the teachings of the Keep could be until now. The wisest of Masters is little more than a Follyman in the True Art.

You’re not making much sense, My Lord, Sarena said nervously. Her Healer’s sense felt something wrong here beyond a dispute of philosophy, but she dared not Touch the source of the problem. Ever since she had first laid her hands on Jamus, she had been afraid of his strength and the hold he had on her. Now it was no different. As much as she needed to comfort some dark unrest within him, she could do nothing except pretend she was in control of herself. Magiskeep protects and nourishes the very best of the Magic and holds the greatest Masters. Denying this with such insults is a poor vision for the kingdom’s Lord.

I didn’t ask for a scolding, Jamus said. Your ignorance has no right to condemn me.

Sarena stiffened, It’s not like you to be rude, Jamus. You don’t wear it well.

Jamus rose, shook off Joria’s hand, and headed for the door, I’ll wear what I please, Madam, and neither you nor your friends here will tell me any differently. Good day. With that, he went out the door and let it slam behind him.

Joria let out a puff of breath, I’m not sure I really just witnessed what I think I did.

Sarena shook her head, The Mistress of Illusion unable to separate fact from fiction? Our Lord has grown arrogant in these last few Sevenstins, I think.

He practically denied the whole of Magiskeep’s teachings, Savel sputtered. To think the boy from the Rim now professes himself the expert on a thousand circles of wisdom.

Jamus is a Master beyond all Masters, Joria replied.

Wet behind the ears, and as much a child as he was when he first came. Someone should teach him again the humility we all recognize in the face of Magic’s grandeur.

I think, Sarena said quietly, Lord Jamus is well aware of Magic’s control over this world, Sur Savel.

First you criticize him, and then you defend him, Mistress. You’ve always been too close to the boy as far as I could see. It might be a good idea to step back and take a clearer look at the man he’s become. Savel rose and stretched, If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d like to spend some time in the Library before my next class arrives. Those Prentices have a habit of asking the most outrageous questions, and I want to prepare myself with some equally outrageous answers.

Once Savel had gone, Sarena sank back in her chair, Something’s terribly wrong with Jamus.

I thought as much by your reaction to him, Joria replied. What did you see?

It was more of a feeling, actually, a longing to Touch him...no, no, not out of lust, out of Compassion. He needs a Healing, I think, but whether it’s of body or spirit, I don’t know.

Maybe you should tell Salene. She is his wife, after all, and if anyone can safely Touch him, she’s the one.

Salene has enough on her mind with the child coming.

She’s hardly more than a passage of Sevenstins along, barely even showing yet. I don’t think offering her husband a Healing would put either one of them in any danger.

Sarena rubbed her brow tiredly, Has a day gone by when I haven’t worried about that boy?

He’s not a boy anymore, Sarena, he’s a man. Even Savel admitted that. He doesn’t need watching every minute.

I’m not so sure about that, Mistress, Sarena replied, sighing heavily, Not so sure at all.

****

After leaving the Council Chamber, Jamus headed for the garden. Since his days in Arcuse with old Densil in Eylese’s gardens in Southhold, he had taken to tending a few beds in the Keep himself, and always found a certain peace in working the soil with his own hands instead of Magic’s. If he ever needed peace, it was now.

His fury at Jorn’s and Jired’s narrow-minded view of the world and its mortal inhabitants had only been further fueled by their conceit over Magiskeep’s role in it all. He had been beyond the Rim and past the Wall, experiencing more in the few Circles of his life than they could ever conceive. He had tried again and again to explain it all to the Mages, and it infuriated him to finally recognize how little they’d really listened.

Salene was waiting for him at the fountain and the moment he saw her sitting there in the sunlight, his mood shifted. She, out of all the people in his life, could transform even his darkest moments with simply a glance, and the touch of her lips on his could answer any doubt he had in his mind.

Now, her smile, their kiss, and one embrace extinguished his fury in an instant. He settled himself on the ground at her feet, and rested his head against her leg. I’ve just been in with the Masters, he said.

I could tell by the look on your face when you crossed the path, Salene replied. Another argument?

Except for Joria and Sarena, they’ve seen practically nothing of the world and yet they make judgments on it as if theirs was the only truth.

Jorn and Jired?

How did you know?

Jorn’s always been arrogant, Salene said, and Jessa’s been telling me Jired’s been into Solec’s Chronicles again. They always lend him an air of superiority.

Senneth joined them this time.

So, now it’s three against you? Joria and Sarena were on your side, I suppose.

Savel made some sense and Jiala was teaching a class, so she wasn’t there this time to torture me.

Salene laughed a little, Well, even if they all turn against you, they can’t unseat you from the Mastery of the Keep. It’s not exactly an elected position.

I’d just as soon give it up if all it means is arguing philosophy with a group of narrow-minded Follymen every time we need to discuss an issue.

Follymen? Is that what you called them this time? I’d wager that didn’t help your cause.

Now Jamus laughed, I don’t think they even got the point. They’re all too sure of themselves to see anything wrong with what they think.

But you’re ever ready to stand in judgment.

He sobered, I’ve seen things they’ve never even dreamed, and know too well the strength of Tamor’s threats. The River is mine to command--all of it. How can I accept their narrow-minded views of the world? Surely you wouldn’t expect me to.

I’ve long ago stopped knowing what to expect of you, my love, Salene answered as she kissed him on the head. For the here and now, I’m grateful to have you safe beside me where I can love you as properly as you deserve.

Jamus drew himself up on his knees and looked into her eyes, I was hoping propriety and our loving really wouldn’t have much in common.

Salene smiled again at the flicker of mischief in his eyes, I hope you don’t want me to let you ravish me right here in the garden.

It’s my garden.

Someone might come along the path.

I’ll set a Sphere if you’d like.

Salene licked her lips thoughtfully. Then, as an answer, she slowly began to untie her belt.

Jamus grinned, flickered his fingers quickly to set the guards and then began to unlace his own tunic. He was stripped to the waist, gazing with lover’s rapture on his wife, when a bright white light seared across his vision.

He rocked back, the light pummeling him as if to batter itself into his brain. Salene was there before him, writhing in her birthing chair, crying out in pain and joy as Sarena tended her labor. He felt her agony, spasms of torment lashing in his groin, and then the utter relief as the squalling, bloody child emerged. But he felt as the babe as well, the cold air against his skin after the warm safety of the womb, and fear made him tremble and cry out.

The white light grew even more intense, drawing him inside and down, as if he were descending the River again.

She was there, the white woman, laughing at him and pointing.

He looked and saw Salene, the child in her arms, running. Behind her loomed a huge shadow, dark winged and far swifter than she.

Jamus struggled to run after them, but no matter how quickly he moved, he knew he would always be too late.

He cried out now, a loud, piercing scream--Salene’s name, as the shadow dropped down around her.

Jamus! What’s wrong? Salene said, clutching at his arms to steady herself against her own concern. He was frighteningly pale and had begun to tremble.

The look of fear on Salene’s face checked Jamus’ answer and he quickly covered the truth, A headache, all of a sudden. He rubbed his sweating brow with his hand as if trying to ease the pain.

Gently, Salene took his head in her own hands, Here, let me. A Touch will help. At his silent nod, she let her Art soothe his torment. No, this can’t be, she muttered as her fingers grew warm against his skin, Magic sending her Healing.

That feels good, Jamus said truthfully as he leaned into her hands. He realized now he had not really lied about the headache, but simply that his horror at the vision he had seen had overpowered it. Now, as the pain ebbed, he began to relax.

A moment more, and Salene pulled her hands away. Please, my love, you have to tell me the truth.

I have. It was a headache, nothing more.

Not ordinary, but blinding you with a white light, as hot and angry as… she hesitated, Spellfire.

Your Touch told you that?

This shouldn’t have happened. The Spellfire was driven from you too long ago to find its way back now.

It wasn’t Spellfire, I mean, it couldn’t have been. It was just a headache.

You cried out as if you’d been struck, and then nearly fell to the ground.

It was a headache, he repeated. It took me by surprise. It’s gone now. Don’t worry about it.

Salene shook her head, I worry about everything that happens to you, Jamus. You are as much my life as our child is. Surely you can understand why I’m so concerned.

All right, be concerned then, but don’t waste too much of your time with it. Your Touch completely freed me. Now, he drew her into his arms, where were we?

Salene softened into his embrace, letting his hands, lips, and body play upon hers until their lovemaking was all that mattered.

Jamus, though, found his mind wandering apart from the consuming passion of his flesh. The sight of the Shadow engulfing her haunted his consciousness, blocking out the full pleasure of her body. He resolved, then and there, to solve the White Woman’s tapestry the first chance he had.

He didn’t much like sleeping with his wife and another woman at the same time.

II

Joria was in the middle of teaching a class of fourth Circle Prentices when Jamus entered her study. As always, his presence reduced the normally rambunctious collection of ten students into a well behaved crew of perfect candidates for the next Choosing. They straightened on their stools, folded their hands primly on the study tabes, and appeared completely intent on every word their Mistress was saying.

Jamus found himself suppressing a laugh at the sight despite the seriousness of his purpose in coming. As always, he found it hard to believe he once was as young as these children and as eager to please the Lord of the Keep. So much had passed since in his life he had begun to feel a hundred Circles old with the innocence of youth torn away by Sagari’s betrayal and the River itself. Gone were the dreams and fascination of Magic, replaced by an almost bitter acceptance of his undesired role in the workings of Turan’s Way.

Magic was his to command, easily, almost without thought--an extension of his own desire or need. Arcuse had given him the secret of Magic Unrestrained, the skill to let his heart work the River as clearly and perfectly as did his head. Nothing seemed impossible anymore, but certainty was as tortured by doubt as had been his ignorance.

The Vision of the White Woman could not be ignored as a mere fancy. No matter what he might like to believe, the Hand had purpose in it. All his dreams, from the very first, had always been guideposts. Why should this one be any different?

But, he needed a wiser head to understand it--someone like Joria who could see between the threads of illusions to the weave of reality. If she had no answer to the riddle, at least she could give him an idea where to find it.

Illusions can weave as strong as stelin, Joria said, gesturing in the air. In front of her hand, a silvrin sphere floated. The strength of any spell, of course, depends on the Mage’s Will and Belief. If I can command both my Will and yours to accept my creation as truth, then so it shall be.

A girl in the second row raised her hand. But suppose we do not accept the strength of your Art, Mistress? If I deny what you suggest, aren’t you the weaker for it?

Because you are also of the Magic, Joria replied, that may well be so. Often one Sorcerer is not the match of another.

A boy asked, Some Mages are said to have more Power than others. Is this a question of Will alone, or is it a question of the Hand’s granting?

Some Mages never have the courage to reach below the surface of the River, Sovin, and some can’t. Those without courage, we can understand, but those without the ability are as inexplicable as the River itself. Magic still insists on keeping some secrets despite all our efforts to unravel them.

A small blonde girl in the front row raised her hand timidly.

Jeanna? Joria said gently. You have a question?

The girl nodded, lifted her violet eyes to look at Jamus and then said shyly, Master Senneth says Lord Jamus is convinced he knows everything. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before going on, Maybe he can tell us the answer to Magic’s secrets.

Joria did an excellent job of keeping a straight face, a skill honed by circles of practice in the classroom. Well, perhaps we should ask him, then. My Lord, my students need to know why all of the Magic cannot touch the River’s bed as you claim to have done. Can you tell them?

Jamus knew she was baiting him, but he also knew the students deserved an honest answer. He thought for a moment, Several of the Masters here in the Keep question my abilities, I suppose, and I’ll willingly grant them that right. Until a man sees for himself, it’s often difficult to believe anything. But, I will answer you first with a question. How can a man know the world if he’s never been in it?

Eleven sets of eyes, including Joria’s, simply stared at him.

Well then, so much for answering Master Senneth’s accusation. Now, to your question. Jamus rubbed his chin, It’s a hard one, actually, and maybe there really isn’t a good answer. Courage, as Mistress Joria suggested, may be a big part of it, although the first time I plunged into the deeper waters, it was out of fear, not bravery. I’ve often wondered how I got there, and even why I got there. I’ve been told by some very strange people I’ve met along the way that somehow I was fulfilling a destiny set upon me by Turan’s Way and the River itself. If it’s true, then I’d guess every one of us has a destiny like mine somewhere. Your Mistress here is Gifted with great skill in Illusion and the talent to teach it to others. She seems happy in her work, and I’ve never heard her wonder if there should be more to her life.

Joria nodded, and Jamus went on, I’m different, though. I’ve always wondered and felt a need to wonder. My head gets filled with all kinds of questions, and I can’t get rid of them until I have the answers. If they’re at the bottom of the River, in the Way of Mirrors, Beyond the Rim, or in a land hidden behind an invisible wall, I have to find them. I’ll bless the day when the questions all finally leave my head, but until they do, I won’t rest. He looked again at Joria, who smiled sadly. My Magic is as deep and full as my need to know it. No matter what I do, I can never deny that.

Jeanna seemed to consider this for a long while. She frowned, tossing the answer around in her own mind until at last, she came to some sort of conclusion, I need to know everything too.

Her remark caught Jamus off guard, That’s a bold thing to say, little one.

She pulled herself up to her full four feet, I’m going to grow. My Magic’ll grow with me. That’s what I’ve decided, so that’s what’s going to happen.

Watch your tongue with the Lord, Joria chided. I’m sorry, Master Jamus, Prentice Jeanna here is a little precocious, I’m afraid. Please forgive her.

Jamus waved his hand in dismissal, There’s nothing to forgive. Willfulness is the Mage’s treasure in the end. Tell me, are all these students ready for the Choosing?

Come Greenmonth they all will be, Joria said. They’ve done well in their studies.

I’d welcome it if my Cup would Fly, Jamus replied. Then he winked at Jeanna, I’d enjoy having a precocious Apprentice around to keep me busy.

The little girl blushed and suddenly grew as shy as she’d acted when he first came into the room.

Joria searched the faces of her students, saw the expressions of longing Jamus’ comment had evoked, and sighed. I think we’ve all done enough for one day. I’ll let you all go early if you promise to work on binding one Illusion to another at least twice before Easwin’s turn. There was a groan from the class along with murmured promises. Go on, then, the Mistress of Illusion said.

The youngsters bustled out, pausing only long enough at the door to each give Jamus a cursory bow before they all disappeared down the hall.

Your Cup to Fly, My Lord? I can hardly believe you’d put such a notion into their heads. Not a one of them could ever hope to be worthy.

I like Jeanna’s spirit.

Spirit is not Skill, Master.

You can forget the formalities, Joria. Once I was simply Jamus to you. I’d like to be again.

You’ll never be as you were, My….Jamus. You’re not the sad little boy I once knew.

He shrugged, So, the boy’s grown older but not much happier.

I was wondering when you’d bring up the reason for your visit. Your answer to Jeanna’s question was very interesting.

Jamus sat on one of the wooden stools and rested his elbows on the slated tabe in front of him, Can a Magician have Vision, Mistress?

Vision? You mean Seer’s Art?

He nodded.

I’ve never heard of it. Seers and Sorcerers have railed against each other for hundreds of circles because they’re so different. Why do you ask?

I saw something today, earlier, in the garden when I was with Salene.

Joria sat at her own tabe. Tell me about it.

Jamus wearily raked his fingers through his hair, I saw Salene and my son. There was a dark shadow chasing them - one of Tamor’s, I think. I couldn’t stop it.

Joria looked relieved, That’s all?

Jamus nodded. There was no point in telling her of the vivid prelude or of the white woman yet. Neither of those images mattered as much as the disturbing conclusion.

Well, I see nothing too unusual about what you’ve experienced, considering what’s about to happen to you. She smiled now, You’re going to be a father soon, and, despite all you’ve already done in your life, that has to be an overwhelming experience. You’ll have a new life to worry about, with all kinds of mysteries ahead. Why shouldn’t you be anxious? It’s a perfectly normal reaction for a new father.

Then it was all my imagination?

I’d say it was all your love, Jamus. Don’t underestimate it.

No Vision, then?

I doubt it, Joria replied. Sorcerers and Seers have never been one.

Jamus had heard enough of the legends from Kala. The long history of rivalry between their races told more than any lecture Joria could offer. He held up his hand to stop her, You don’t have to say any more, Mistress. I’m well versed in the histories.

Then you’re satisfied your ‘vision’ was nothing more?

I’ll never be satisfied with what I saw, but I’ll accept is as of my own making. He got up. As always, I thank you, Madam. I value your wise counsel.

You’d do just as well listening to your own heart, My Lord. You’re far wiser than you think you are. What you said to my class was quite impressive.

Jamus simply smiled and headed out the door. Once in the hallway, he leaned up against the warm blustone wall to steady himself. It seemed even speaking of what he had seen was enough to stir the cold and overpowering fear he’d felt when it had happened. He let the sensation pass and then pushed his Will upon the experience. If it’s my imagining, he thought, then I alone have the Power to banish it.

Instead of relief, another wave of dizziness washed over him and without warning, he saw the pale face hovering in front of his eyes. Don’t think I’m so easily dismissed, the White Woman said.

Leave me, Jamus said firmly.

I come of my own choosing, not yours, Jamus of Magiskeep. Try as you will, you cannot command me.

Why? Why are you bothering me?

I am an answer to the Way, a tapestry to be riddled. Learn me and you will learn a hundred weavings.

I can’t, not now. I’ve promised.

The only promise is Turan’s Promise, the only will, Turan’s Will.

Jamus shook his head, My word binds me.

Pah! The old man said it. You’re a fool if you don’t listen.

What are you talking about?

What are you talking about? a voice to the side repeated.

Jamus spun to meet Sarena’s concerned gaze.

You’ve been standing here for the last few minutes talking to the air, she said. Don’t you think it’s a bit odd?

Jamus tried to smile, to pretend nothing was wrong, but he failed miserably. I was just thinking aloud.

Half a conversation? I’d be interested in how you answered the questions you were asking.

You heard what I said?

Most of it. Something seems to be troubling you.

I’ve already talked to Joria about it, Mistress. She’ll tell you all you need to know.

Really? Sarena replied, eying him suspiciously. I doubt Mistress of Illusion can have all the information a Healer might need.

Jamus grunted, I have no use for a Healer, My Lady, but rest assured, I’ll come to you if I do.

And not Salene?

Salene has already Touched me.

Sarena could not hide her sudden concern, What happened?

A headache, Jamus replied. I feel much better now.

You’re sure.

Don’t doubt my wife’s determination, nor her Skill, Sarena. There hasn’t been a flicker of pain since she put her hand on me. I feel fine.

We worry about you, Jamus. It’s a habit Joria and I find quite hard to break.

He reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He drew back at once when he saw her flinch. It was frustrating to have to be so careful. The touch of his flesh on hers would draw her irresistibly to him and neither of them dared risk it. Just go on, talk to Joria, he said. You’ll see.

Sarena moved past him into the classroom. This time, instead of staying in the hall where he could be seen, Jamus hurried to one of the smaller studies, found it empty, went in and spelled the door locked behind him.

Show yourself, he said.

He heard a laugh, Ask, do not command.

Please, Jamus said, I need to talk to you.

She appeared then, her flowing white gown settling in billowing folds around her legs as she settled herself on a bench by the window. The sunlight from outside shimmered around her head and shoulders, yet she did not melt into silhouette against it but rather glowed more brightly with an intense white light.

Do you have a name? Jamus asked.

I am the Keeper, she answered.

And just what is it you keep?

Ah, that is part of the riddle, Sur Jamus.

Why should I bother with your riddle?

Because it is a riddle, she said, smiling at him.

Kashar has plenty of tapestries for me if I want to go on a quest. How many do you offer?

Only one, the Keeper replied. Yet it is the riddle you must solve.

I’m done with riddles for now.

The riddles are not done with you, Kiselor. The River is waiting for its Master.

Let it wait. I don’t have time for this.

By the Blood, I simply can’t understand why Kisel insists on such a stupid man to be his Rider. Do you always listen with half an ear like this?

Jamus was tempted to return her insult with one of his own, but he checked himself. There were better ways to get information, I’ve been distracted lately, Madam. The idea of being a father takes some getting used to.

You’ll have neither wife nor child to concern you if you sit idly by, Windchanger.

He reacted now, both to her suggestion and the name she’d called him. My Vision?

Real. It doesn’t bother me a bit, of course, but I suppose it does you. Challenge the riddle and you challenge the Vision.

Blackmail, or the truth? She could be lying, trying to trick him into her needs by trying to frighten him. The problem was, for whatever the reason, it was working. Why did you call me Windchanger?

Stupid is perhaps too kind a term, I think.

Answer me.

You’re commanding me again.

Please.

The Keeper rose from the bench, I think not. If Kisel wants you to ride him, you might as well earn the privilege on your own, eh? Riddle it out. She grinned as if enjoying an impressive joke. Riddle for riddle, diddle dee dee. Riddle for one or riddle for three.

Jamus recognized the distance of her gaze, You have to explain it to me.

Riddle in the middle, riddle on the end, riddle the beginning, riddle this, my friend.

You’re not making any sense.

Why should I have to? It’s all up to you, now, not me.

Jamus reached out as if to shake her, but his hands struck air, passing right through her body. He decided then and there he really shouldn’t have been surprised it, but it was still hard not to believe she wasn’t quite as real as she appeared. He had grown used to reflections from his travels in the Way of Mirrors, of course, and had even learned to accept their presence in his more real world. Usually they came in the shape of shadows, bent more on destruction than on mere torment. The Keeper, however, appeared to be determined to harass him without any more reason than to draw him into another tapestry all for her own ends. He didn’t like being manipulated. If it’s all up to me, then, he said, I’ve decided I really don’t want to be a party to this. There’s no reason for you to stay.

I go because I go, she said, or because I don’t. In the end you’ll answer for it anyway, so no matter. The weave is twisted here and there. You’ll have to do some sorting sooner or later. But that’s entirely up to you, you know. Entirely…sooner or later, that is. I do wish you’d learned to listen the whole way. It would make everything so much easier.

Are you having some difficulty?

Not I, not I. I think you’d worry, though. Twists and knots in warp and woof, all for a poorly weaver’s skill. Take a master to smooth the thread, but he can’t know how till he loses his head. At that, the White Woman began to shimmer, her form wavering in a dozen different intensities of whiteness. Then, with a burst of flame and bright as Spellfire, she vanished completely, leaving Jamus alone, shaking his head.

There was a knock on the door. Anyone in there? I need a book on the shelf by the window. I’ll only be a moment if you let me in.

Jamus waited until his breathing was steady again and then he waved the spell from the lock. Come in, you’re welcome to.

Shavel, one of the Keep’s lesser Mages, stepped cautiously in, My Lord, he said, bowing to Jamus. His eyes roved about the room, Where’s your companion? You were talking to someone, I thought. That’s why I waited. I didn’t want to interrupt.

I’m alone, Jamus answered.

But, My Lord, I distinctly heard voices.

I am alone.

May it be so, Shavel said, lowering his gaze. Please forgive my intrusion. He hurried over to the shelf by the window and took an enormous volume, his slender frame sagging a bit beneath its weight. I’ll just take this into another room.

No, I’m done here. Do your studying here if you like, Jamus said. I was just leaving.

When Jamus stepped back out into the hallway, he felt dizzy again, but rather than give in to it, he made his way to the stairs and found that by steadying himself with a firm hand on the banister, he could walk down with a certain amount of dignity. Apparently, it worked well enough. Old Jeamel, waiting for him on the lower floor, didn’t even notice anything wrong.

Becca’s havin’ herself a fine fit, she is, Jeamel said. Las’ time ya visited the village, ya dint give her the time o’ day. Says I was ta tell ya the next time I sees ya, so I’m tellin’.

I’ve been busy, Jamus said.

Fer sure, with that wife o’ your’n an all. I tole Becca, but she won’t have none o’ it. Babe or no, yer ta come ta her soon’s ya got a minute. She says it caint wait.

Jamus put his hand on Jeamel’s shoulder and as soon as he made contact, the world spun into whiteness.

There was a great brellum tree, spreading its branches to the ground. Jamus thought he recognized the place, but the colors were too vivid to be real. He felt himself drawn to the shade under the leaves and, before he knew it, he had slipped under the canopy.

There were two others there, a man and woman, naked, their clothes cast aside in a rumpled pile. He lay sprawled upon her, his mouth greedily tasting hers, her legs wrapped around his buttocks as they coupled.

Jamus tried to back away, but his own loins ached too much with the pleasure of it, even as he felt himself opening to his own growing passion much as a woman might. He was the man, the woman, both at the same time, the ecstasy of their loving exploding inside him--so much--too much. One would have been more than enough. Two burst inside his head with savage agony.

He clutched at his temples and cried out.

Lad, Lad! Jeamel called, his tight muscled arms enveloping Jamus to keep him on his feet. What’s wrong with ya, boy? Let me call Mistress Sarena.

No! Jamus shouted and a fraction later, in more measured tones, he repeated, No. Give me a minute to rest, that’s all.

Yer sickly.

Just a headache. I had one earlier today. It’s gone now.

Ya needs a Healin’ right sure.

As Jamus sat on the edge of the step, Jeamel knelt in front of him. He studied the servant’s face for a long time and then smiled, So, you and Becca have found the brellum tree, have you?

Jeamel’s sudden flush of color said as much as his words, West of the Keep? Aye, lad. The moss is right soft under it.

It’s a good place, Jamus said, remembering Jessa’s taking him there. Perhaps you’ll have your own son from it, one day.

Jeamel grinned, Caint say Becca an’ me ain’t been tryin’. Say, how did ya know about it? The tree, I mean.

Jamus grinned back, relieved to have turned his old friend’s concern to curiosity so easily. He gestured quickly with his hand where Jeamel couldn’t see the movement. There’s too big a grin on your face and a bit of moss under your collar.

Jeamel reached up to finger his collar, pulling out a small wad of moss which had appeared there a second before, I’ll be danged if’n there ain’t. An’ Becca’s always took a care ta brush me off afore I come back ta the Keep too. Her an’ me slipped out fer a midmeal picnic, ya see. Kinda enjoyed a bit more’n jest the food, if’n ya gets my drift.

I’m glad, Jamus said. It gives me hope for my own marriage to see one so strong after so many circles.

Blood, boy, if’n it takes the likes o’ Becca an’ me ta shore ya up, yer a pretty sad case. Ya got trouble with yer Lady?

No, Jamus said with definite certainty. It’s just that I’ve seen too many men and women grow apart instead of together.

Poor lad, ta have a man like Sagari teachin’ ya the ways o’ men and women whilst ya was so young. Ain’t likely ya’ll ever quite git over it, neither. Trust me, boy, love kin last a lifetime if’n ya work at it a little.

I take it a spreading brellum’s a help too.

Spreadin’ brellums or bedspreads, boy, as long as she’s willin’ ta spread for ya, makes no difference where, eh?

Despite all his worldly experience, Jamus blushed at the old servant’s reply.

There, now that’s better, Jeamel laughed. Got ya some color back in yer face. Ya was white as a duskit’s tail ya was. I thought the blood musta all fell to yer feet or somethin’.

White, Jamus muttered under his breath.

What’s thet? Jeamel asked. Some of me organs may be a workin’ full, but me ears ain’t one of ‘em.

Two of them, Jamus teased.

Jeamel laughed, Fer sure yer aright now, near’s I kin tell. Only a healthy man could make sech a bad joke.

Jamus rose, working hard not to appear unsteady, Yes, yes, I’m fine now.

Ya’ll go see Becca then?

Now?

I don’t see ya rushin’ off ta do much else now, do I? Lord o’ the Keep’s got a right ta go when an’ where he pleases, I reckon. I’d say it’d do ya good ta git some o’ Becca’s good vittles in ya anyhows--thicken up yer blood a mite so’s it don’t drain out o’ yer skull so easy.

Actually, Jamus thought, the walk might do him good and the food sounded tempting. Becca’s bread was ten times better than the Keep’s. All right, I’ll go, he said, making his way to the huge main door of the palace. He opened it, turned back to Jeamel and winked, And I might even decide not to tell her about the moss.

A dozen or so little cottages nestled themselves along the walls of the blustone keep and hundreds more lined graveled lanes and walkways crisscrossing the land beyond. Since Jamus had taken over as Lord of Magiskeep, the villages around had grown, thriving under his concern and eagerness to welcome anyone who wanted to make his holding their home.

Though Jamus had not known of them, forty-two families had moved away under Sagari’s rule, taking up farming in the infertile lands to the south, surviving on sheer determination rather than off their meager crops. With the Golden Sorcerer gone and a far more just man in his place, those original forty-two, with another twenty-three sets of sons’ and daughters’ families, had returned to swell the population of the Village by half again.

Circles of farming in the South had taught the