through with all that.”
“The boy at Riens,” I said. “Did you—?”
“Yes, that was me. I found him and notified the authorities. I had to get you to come out this way.”
“You did more than that.” I was guessing, but I had nothing to lose. “You found a natural, and you filled his head with spite and hate. I imagine you appeared to him in dreams. Fulgensorigo?”
“Naturally. I knew they’d send you. You’re the best at that sort of thing. If it had just been an unregistered natural, they could have sent anyone. To make sure it was you, I had to turn him nasty. I’m sorry. I’ve caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people.”
“But it’s worth it, in the long run.”
“Yes.”
Pain, you see, is the distraction. As long as I could hurt him, in the conscience, where it really stings, I was still in the game. “It’s not, you know. Your theory is invalid. There’s a flaw. I spotted it when you were telling me about it. It’s so obvious, even I can see it.”
I didn’t need Forms to tell me what he was thinking. “You’re lying.”
“Don’t insult me,” I said. “Not on a point of scholarship. I wouldn’t do that.”
Silence. Then he said, “No, you wouldn’t. All right, then, what is it? Come on, you’ve got to tell me!”
“Why? You’re going to kill me.”
“Not necessarily. Come on, for God’s sake! What did you see?”
And at that precise moment, my fingertips connected with what they’d been blindly groping for: the bottle of aqua fortis I’d slipped into the pocket of my gown earlier, when we were both blinded by the purple smoke. I flipped out the cork with my thumbnail, then thrust the bottle in what I devoutly hoped was the right direction.
Aqua fortis has no pity; it’s incapable of it. They use it to etch steel. People who know about these things say it’s the worst pain a man can suffer.
I’d meant it for Gnatho, of course; purely in self-defense, if he ambushed me and tried to hex me. Pain would be my only weapon in that case. I had no way of getting hold of the stuff at the Studium, where they’re so damn fussy about restricted stores, but I knew my good friend Genseric would have some, and would be slapdash about security.
The pain hit him; he let go of virtus. I came back to life. The first thing I did was lux in tenebris, so I could see exactly what I’d done to him. It wasn’t pretty. I saw the skin bubble on his face, pull apart to reveal the bone underneath; I watched the bone dissolve. You have to believe me when I say that I tried to save him, mundus vergens, but I just couldn’t concentrate with that horrible sight in front of my eyes. Pain paralyzes, and you can’t think straight. It ate deep into his brain, I told him I forgave him, and then he died.
For the record; I think—no, I’m sure—there was a flaw in his theory. It was a false precept, right at the beginning. He was a nice man and a good friend, mostly, but a poor scholar.
As soon as I got back to the Studium, I went to see Father Sulpicius. I told him everything that had happened, including Genseric’s confession.
He looked at me. “Gnatho,” he said.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “You.”
He frowned. “Don’t be silly,” he said.
“It was you.”
“Ridiculous. Look, I can prove it. I don’t have clearance for restricted alchemical data. But Gnatho does.”
I nodded. “That’s right, he does. So you asked him to get the data for you. He was happy to oblige. After all, he’s your friend.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Genseric had to find the natural. You’re hopeless at that sort of thing; Gnatho’s very good at it. If you’d been able to, you’d have done it yourself. But you had to leave it to Genseric.”
He took a deep breath. “You’re wrong,” he said. “But assuming you were right, what would you intend to do about it?”
I looked at him. “Absolutely nothing,” I said. “No, I tell a lie. I’d withdraw my name for the chair. Just as you’re going to do.”
“And let Gnatho—”
Oh, the scorn in those words. He’d have hit me if he’d been able. He’s always looked down on Gnatho and me, just because we’re from the Mesoge.
“He’s a fine scholar,” I said. “Besides, I never wanted the stupid job anyway.”
The boy from Riens duly turned up and was assigned to a house. He’s settled in remarkably well, far better than I did. Mind you, I didn’t have an influential senior member of Faculty looking out for me, like he has. He could go far, given encouragement. I hope he does, for the honor of the Old Country.
I’m glad I didn’t get the chair. If I had, I wouldn’t have had the time for a new line of research, which I have high hopes for. It concerns the use of strong acids for disposing of the mortal remains of revenants. Fire doesn’t work, we know, because fire leaves ashes; but if you eat the substance away so there’s absolutely nothing left— Well, we’ll see.
He’ll be back, my father used to say, like a pig to its muck. I gather he said it the day I left home. Well. We’ll see about that, too.
Megan Lindholm
Books by Megan Lindholm include the fantasy novels Wizard of the Pigeons, Harpy’s Flight, The Windsingers, The Limbreth Gate, Luck of the Wheels, The Reindeer People, Wolf’s Brother, and Cloven Hooves, the science fiction novel Alien Earth, and, with Steven Brust, the collaborative novel The Gypsy. Lindholm also writes as New York Times bestseller Robin Hobb, one of the most popular writers in fantasy today, having sold over one million copies of her work in paperback. As Robin Hobb, she’s perhaps best known for her epic fantasy Farseer series, including Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin, and Assassin’s Quest, as well as the four fantasy series related to it: the Liveship Traders series, consisting of Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship, and Ship of Destiny; the Tawny Man series, made up of Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, and Fool’s Fate; the Rain Wilds Chronicles, consisting of Dragon Keeper, Dragon Haven, City of Dragons, and Blood of Dragons; and the Fitz and the Fool trilogy, made up of Fool’s Assassin, Fool’s Quest, and Assassin’s Fate. She’s also the author of the Soldier Son series, composed of Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, and Renegade’s Magic. As Megan Lindholm, her most recent book is a “collaborative” collection with Robin Hobb, The Inheritance & Other Stories.
Doing a favor for an old friend is always a risky business, full of potential disappointments and pitfalls, especially when the old friend is someone you haven’t seen or spoken to for decades after an acrimonious breakup—someone who once betrayed you, someone you know better than to trust. And especially in a case where dangerous magic is involved.
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