Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [48]
“This Anja, she came of a noble family? You know that for certain? Joram is of noble blood?”
“Noble blood? Oh, yes, Your Grace! At least, that is what Bishop Vanya has told me,” Saryon faltered.
“Father, you appear to be growing increasingly unwell,” Garald said in concern, noting the catalyst’s ashen lips and the beads of sweat upon the mans tonsured head. “We will continue this some other time …”
“No, no, Your Grace,” Saryon said hastily. “I am … glad you are taking … an interest in Joram. And … I need to talk about this! It’s been … a great burden on my mind….”
“Very well, Father,” said the Prince, his cool gaze on the catalyst. “Please continue. The boy was raised as a Field Magus.”
“Yes. But Anja told him he was of noble birth, and she never allowed him to forget it. She kept him isolated from the other children. According to the catalyst in the village, Joram wasn’t allowed out of the shack in which they lived except in his mothers company, and then the boy wasn’t permitted to speak to anyone. He stayed in the house, alone, all day, while she worked in the fields. Anja was Albanara. Her magic was strong, and she cast spells of protection around the shack to keep the child in and others out. Not that anyone would have tried to get inside anyway,” Saryon added. “No one liked Anja. She was cold and aloof, always telling the boy that he was above the others.”
“She knew he was Dead?”
“She never admitted it, not to him, not to herself. But I imagine that is another reason she kept him isolated. When he was nine, however, she knew he would have to go into the fields — all children do — to earn his keep. That was when she taught him to cover for his lack of magic by using illusion and sleight of hand. She learned this herself in court, no doubt, where it is a game played for amusement. She also taught him to read and to write, using books she undoubtedly stole from her home. And” — Saryon sighed again — “she took him to see his father.”
Garald stared at the catalyst incredulously.
“Yes. Joram never speaks of it, but the village catalyst told me. It was he who opened the Corridors to her. What happened there, we can only guess, but the catalyst said that when the boy returned, he was white as a corpse; his eyes were the eyes of one who has looked into the mist of Beyond and seen the realm of death. From that day when he saw the stone statue of his father, Joram became as stone himself. Cold, aloof, unfeeling. Few have seen him smile. No one has ever seen him cry.”
The Prince’s eyes went to the young man, lying beside the fire. Even in slumber, the stern face did not relax, the brows remained drawn over it in a brooding, heavy line.
“Continue,” the Prince said quietly.
“Joram was good at illusion and he was able to conceal the fact that he was Dead for many years. I know, for he has told me, that he kept hoping the magic would come to him. He believed Anja when she said he was late in developing, as were many of the Albanara. He believed because he wanted to believe, of course. Just as he still believes all her stories about the beautiful city of Merilon. He worked in the fields with the others and no one questioned him. It was easy to fool the Field Magi,” the catalyst said. “Boys his age are not given Life, for obvious reasons.”
“Thus the overseer maintains control over them,” the Prince said grimly.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Saryon said, flushing slightly. “The young men do mostly hard physical labor, such as clearing the land. This type of labor does not require the use of magic. Joram was lucky for a while. When he was growing up, the village had a good overseer. He tolerated Joram’s sullen ways and black humors. He understood. After all, he’d seen how the boy was raised. Anja’s madness was, by this time, obvious to everyone — even Joram, I am certain. But he had shut himself away from the others. Except Mosiah, that is.”
“Ah, I wondered about that,” the Prince remarked, his gaze going to the other young man, who lay sleeping near Joram.
“An odd friendship, milord. It was certainly never encouraged