Warlock's Last Ride

"He's still not much of a musician," Geoffrey said.

Magnus smiled. "Your talent, brother, not ours."

"He has slipped into delusions again, of course," Cordelia said.

Magnus nodded. "There's no reason to think he'll be dangerous, though—neither to anyone else nor to himself."

"I think not," Geoffrey said, frowning. "After all, he's quite sane—except for this delusion that he can find Mama somewhere out there."

"The wandering will do him no harm," Gregory said, "and if this is his way of working through his grief, all well and good."

"It's really none of our business," Magnus said.

"Everything having to do with him is our business," Cordelia corrected him, "but it's not our place to tell him what he can and can't do."

"No," Magnus agreed. "He is a grown man, after all, and in good health—almost."

The tiny figure turned back to wave just before the road went into the forest and the leaves swallowed him up. The whole party on the wall waved back until their arms drooped in dejection. Then Geoffrey turned to Magnus, jaw jutting in defiance. "And will you seek to rule us now?"

"Of course not," Magnus said. "After all, I haven't had much luck with that since you turned twelve."

Geoffrey stared at him, then slowly smiled. "Not that it kept you from trying."

"Give me credit for having gained some maturity in my travels, brother." Magnus returned the smile. "Besides, I'm quite well aware that I am, shall we say, rather behind in recent history as it has happened in Gramarye. You surely know your own tasks better than I."

Gregory frowned and said to Geoffrey, "He says it too easily."

"Dad only told me to fend off foreign agents who might try to subvert Gramarye into following their own forms of government," Magnus reminded him. "He didn't say a single word about giving you orders."

"I'm glad you see that." But Cordelia frowned, searching his face, then turned to Alea in exasperation. "Does he mean it?"

"I can't honestly say that I've ever seen him do much in the way of giving orders," Alea said slowly. "Suggestions, yes, and he can be very persuasive—but outright orders, no."

Gregory and Geoffrey looked somewhat reassured, but Cordelia didn't look at all convinced—nor did Quicksilver, and Allouette seemed doubtful.

Magnus turned from face to face, then settled on Alain's. Slowly, he knelt.

Eight

"WHAT DO YOU DO!" ALAIN CRIED. "ON YOUR feet, man!"

"Your man," Magnus said. "I swore fealty to your father ten years ago when he knighted me, and I swear it now to you, Prince of Gramarye. I am your man and will answer to your commands, no matter the cost to me. Call me at will; I swear my loyalty to you, by Oak, Ash, and Thorn."

They were all very still for a moment, staring at Magnus—and at Alain, for his gaze was locked with his subject's as the softness faded from his face, faded until he was deadly serious as he nodded. "I am your liege lord, and will provide for you and protect you at need. Rise, Sir Magnus."

Magnus stood up, tall and straight before his future king.

No one said it, but all of them realized that Magnus had committed himself to staying on Gramarye. Like it or not, he was home for good.

"THIS IS NOT the kind of issue to use as a plaything," Geoffrey said.

"Not a bit," Gregory agreed, "and Magnus knows that far too well to use it as a persuasive tool. He would not mock so solemn a ceremony or give a frivolous oath. He meant what he said."

The two brothers sat in the sitting room of Gregory's suite, alone together for a few minutes, the bottle that was their pretext for going aside sitting uncorked between them, their goblets half-full.

Geoffrey nodded. "Of course, that means that when Alain becomes king and Cordelia queen, Magnus will take orders from her."

"His kneeling was as much a declaration of that as of obedience to Alain," Gregory agreed, looking very thoughtful. "I think he meant to reassure us on that very point. It will stick in his craw; he will hate the taking of orders from his little sister, but he will do it. He is sincere in what he says; he will not try to command us."

"Perhaps," Geoffrey said, "but I think I had better make sure."

AS ROD RODE into the forest, he had the feeling of a huge weight lifting from his shoulders. The kingdom was no longer his care. "I'm a free wanderer again, Fess."

"Yes, and the best kind," the horse answered, "one who has a castle for a home whenever he wants it."

"Do I infer a charge of hypocrisy there?"

"More likely a statement that you are playing at resuming your youthful life," Fess said.

"Touché." Rod winced. "And there is the little problem of having dumped that load of responsibility on my boy."

"He is a grown man now, Rod, and equal to the task."

"And I'm not?" Rod said. "Well, I suppose I am a little over the hill."

"I am sure Magnus will call upon you if he has need of advice," Fess said complacently, "but having engineered revolutions on eight planets, I scarcely think he will."

"Yes, but this is his home world." Rod frowned with a trace of anxiety. "That might impair his objectivity."

"Not a bad thing, so long as it doesn't impair the clarity of his vision," Fess said. "Besides, giving him the charge was the only way you could be sure he wouldn't leave again."

"Well, I do want him around until I find Tir Nan Og," Rod admitted. "Something secure in knowing all your children are in shouting range when Christmas comes."

"You also have the young lady in mind, have you not?"

"Yes." Rod nodded, feeling part of the weight settle back on his shoulders. "They're so right for each other, but both bound and determined not to see it."

"They are ready for the final stages of working through their recovery, Rod."

"Been doing a little mind-peeking, have you?"

"I am not a telepath, Rod; though I can communicate with you and your offspring, I can broach no one else's mind. No, I have simply listened to every word that was said and remembered them all."

"And put them together into patterns the two of them thought they were hiding? I can't criticize that." Rod gazed off into the trees. "I know what maimed Magnus—but I wonder what trauma made Alea so shy of romance."

"Whatever it was, Rod, it taught her that men are not to be trusted—though Magnus seems to have taught her that he, at least, is."

"The exception that proves the rule—but she only needs one." Rod nodded. "Of course, she's still denying her own beauty—but nobody ever accused Magnus of being handsome. Not after he grew up, at least."

"Ugly men are no less apt than handsome ones, to fall in love with beautiful women."

"Or plain women with handsome men," Rod agreed, "not that that has anything to do with these two. Whatever is attracting them to one another, it's not physical beauty."

"No, Rod, I think Magnus admires Alea for her character—courage and steadfastness, perhaps even compassion."

"Yes, but whether she knows it or not, she has her own kind of classical beauty, and I don't think Magnus is immune to it."

"I beg to differ, Rod. I do not think your son admits to the physical attraction he so obviously feels."

"Obvious to you, maybe," Rod countered, "not to some of us who don't notice the miniscule clues you seem to find. Okay, so there's some physical attraction between them, but I think most of what binds these two is shared danger that they've survived together."

"And in the process, learned that they can depend upon one another absolutely," Fess agreed.

"They have no doubt that they can count on one another when the chips are down." Rod nodded. "It's when the chips are up that they might have trouble."