The Fire Mages by Pauline M. Ross Read Free Book Online Page B

discussion at home about the Kellon’s family, Mother talking with a neighbour, or the servants gossiping. It had never seemed very interesting to me, so I hadn’t taken much notice. Even when Deyria had mentioned the Kellon, I hadn’t thought much of it. But finally I understood: she truly could be the next Asha-Kellon. I smiled at the thought of my wild little sister becoming a great lady.
    ~~~~~
    After Mistress Tallyan opened my eyes to the possibilities for Deyria, I started to pay more attention to the mirror messages relating to the Kellon. Immediately it was obvious that the Asha-Kellon’s illness was now very grave. All through the snows, messages flew about her health. She had deteriorated; the worst was feared. She had rallied a little; everyone was more hopeful. A heartfelt plea from the Kellon for the Drashon’s most experienced mage. Two were sent from Kingswell at once. A sad report that they had been unable to help. And the repeated and increasingly frantic requests for a stronger medication, something – anything – to alleviate the terrible unremitting pain.
    The Kellon came himself one sun. He strode into the mirror room, his minions straggling along behind him like so many chicks following a mother hen. He had an urgent message to send to the Drashon regarding a new kind of pain remedy he had heard about, some tropical juice from the northern coast. He thought that the herbalists at Kingswell might be able to find some. While that message was being sent, he stomped about, berating the master in charge for the inadequacies of the scribery.
    “Do you not have spells for my good lady? What are you here for, if not to alleviate suffering?”
    “We have tried everything – we continue to try, Lord, but...” the master said.
    “Well, try harder. This pain – it is inhuman, no one should have to suffer so. Yet they tell me she could live on like this for years. If it were my horse, my stable master would put the poor creature down, but my wife, who has done nothing to deserve it, must endure this misery. And I must watch, helpless. I had rather she were dead than go through such agony sun after sun. You could do that , I suppose? A death spell?”
    “Of course, but...”
    “I know, I know, you cannot use them.”
    The master’s face betrayed little emotion – perhaps he was used to such outbursts – but I was shocked at the talk of death spells. There were such things, of course, and very useful they were for summer infestations of snakes or horned beetles. But against people? Magic was so hedged about with constraints that harmful spells were difficult to accomplish and rarely successful. Even if the lady were to commission the spellpage and burn it herself, it would still be for the Moon Gods to decide the outcome. It was a sign of the Kellon’s desperation that he even thought of such a thing.
    He sighed, and ran a hand through his greying hair. “There must be something you can do.”
    It was heart-wrenching to listen to his pleading. He cared deeply for his wife, that much was clear. I was surprised by that, knowing of his liking for other women – my sister amongst them. I’d imagined that his wife was unimportant to him, just a familiar part of his life without much meaning. I was wrong.
    People talked of it as a political marriage, undertaken to please the Drashon. There were rumours of disagreements, of factions at the hall. Some said that the Asha-Kellon thought herself too grand for Ardamurkan and kept her husband in submission, bound by her whims. Others said she was a gentle soul, with much to put up with from her husband. Sometimes, it was said, there would be arguments, shouting even, until one or the other stormed out.
    It was hard to separate truth from exaggeration or outright fantasy. Perhaps these great people were always quarrelsome, or perhaps the little people liked to magnify every minor difference of opinion. Maybe what seemed like a tempestuous relationship was no