The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton, found himself bespelled and drugged by Sarton’s ex-wife, Lady Vorana. She obviously doesn’t mean him any good. On the other hand, he is a charming fellow. (If you want to catch up on the entire story, go here.) Now read on . . .
I wake up. Iām still in the tent where Lady Vorana was. But she, the table, Mia, the other furnishings of the tent, they are all gone. All that is left is a lantern, which is the sole source of light in the tent. And itās otherwise so dark that it canāt still be day out. How long have I been asleep? Or whatever it was that happened to me?
I try to remember what happened. I took the second sip of wine. Lady Vorana told me to stand up and follow her. And then it was like I lost all power of rational thought as waves of raw emotion erupted in my brain with frightening intensity.
My memories of everything that happened after are very confused. Iām not sure the human mind is made to remember exactly what we are doing when we have only strong emotions, no intellect. And thatās all I was experiencing, apparently. Experiencing with Vorana and Mia.
I have to shut down thinking about it. Itās too disturbing.
I shake my head and sit up. I check my wallet and bag. Everything is intact. Me, Iām not so sure about. I grab the lantern and head for the door.
Iām out the door. Itās twilight out. Good, Iām not out past curfew. I turn to look at the tent, to see what it looks like. There is no tent there. In fact, there is no land there. Thatās the Unswondus Canal where the tent was. More magic, clearly.
Iām not going to get anything done here. So I make my way back to the palace, have my usual unpleasant encounter with the guards, and make a beeline for Sartonās workshop. If heās been waiting for the phoenix feathers all day, he is going to be enraged at the delay. Even though it is not my fault.
Sarton is just closing up. Heās coming out the door. I begin to compose an apology to him, but I donāt get a chance to say it. A torrent of words burst out of me, beyond my control, repeating what Lady Vorana told me about the assassination plot.
Sarton at first is baffled. And then he drags me back into the workshop, sits me down, and makes me tell him everything. Well, everything about the assassination plot. I leave the rest out of it.
Once Iāve told him often enough that heās understood me, itās as if Iām suddenly drained of energy. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes. And almost immediately jerk them open. Because in the moment my eyes were closed, it was as if I were reliving one of those memories Iām trying not to recall.
Sarton is looking at me, a bit puzzled. āWhatās the matter with you, Tollon?ā
I shrug. āTired, I guess. Lapsed into a bad dream.ā
Sarton still isnāt satisfied, but he switches the subject. āYou got the phoenix feathers?ā
I grab my bag, open it, hand it over to him. āSeven of the best.ā
That pleases him, for a moment. Then he looks at me quite narrowly. āVorana doesnāt do things without exacting a price. I would have expected her to take a phoenix feather. So what did she take from you?ā
I try to think how to explain what happened, but canāt think of a way to put it that isnāt embarrassing. So I fudge. āI donāt remember very well.ā
Sartonās face turns grave. āShe offered you wine.ā
I nod.
āAre your memories of what happened afterward clear or confused? Truly now, Tollon.ā
āConfused,ā I say with some relief. Sarton knows what happened. I hope he tells me!
āGood.ā Sarton is looking me straight in the eye. āIf they were clear, youād never escape Voranaās influence over you. Confused memories mean youāll eventually be yourself again. Now listen to me, Tollon, man to man: avoid your girl for a few days. And donāt panic if you find yourself having disturbing visions. They will pass.ā
āWhat kind of disturbing visions? I ask.
āVisions of things you did, memories, my boy. Iām sorry I canāt put it any more gently. It doesnāt matter if she made you do those things, you actually did them. And youāre going to find them very troubling, even the ones that would normally be enjoyable.
āNow, thatās an experience no one should have to deal with, as part of a job. So you get the evening off. Tomorrow, too. Go back to your room, or do whatever you want to do. Donāt let the visions disturb you. And if it gets too much for you, come back here and knock on the door. Iāll come get you.ā
From Sarton, this is almost an unprecedented level of concern. So I thank him, tell him I will be careful, and leave.
Iām fine until I reach the servantsā dining hall.
(To be continued . . .)