The Sorcery Within

XXV

OBO FOUNDALEMAR BY THE GRAVESIDE. The boy was kneeling in the forest mulch, gaze locked on the recently turned earth. If he had heard the old wizard approach, he did not show it. Obo remained back among the foliage of the trees, too caught in his own sorrow to offer any words of consolation.

The heavy, bitter shroud of failure settled on his shoulders. Intellectually, Obo knew he was not the cause of Lerina's death, but it was not easy to believe that in his heart. Though Alemar would never say it aloud, Obo could hear the questionWhy, if you could save my father, couldn't you save my mother? It would do no good to remind his young ward that sorcery was not a chosen skill, but the development of talents one might, or might not, be born with, and that Obo, like all wizards, was limited in what types of magic he could perform. That excuse would not change what had happened.

Alemar was virtually a man now, at his full height, strong and black-haired like his father. He had the short but lithe physique so prevalent among the House of Olendim. A fine boy – a fine man. To see him so bereaved dried out Obo's throat, made his arms shudder with pent-up anger at the fates. Of all the trials Alemar could have faced, the death of his mother was the worst. Obo had seldom seen a parent and child more emotionally close. It would be a long time before he recovered.

Elenya had already accepted the tragedy. She was hard, that one, full of her mother's spice and her father's stubbornness. Though she had loved Lerina as deeply as her brother, Obo knew Elenya would find a vent for her outrage – she would blame the world. Alemar would keep it inside, find a way to blame himself. He would have to be watched.

Obo found his own hope in that fact. If he could help the boy through this, that would partially make up for his unsuccessful attempt to help Lerina. Alemar, along with his twin, had shown the marks of the Dragonslayer's power more than any of the dynasty. More than that, he was a good person, of the kind Obo had seen far too seldom within the royal family in Elandris. Obo would not let so much human and sorcerous potential be warped by grief.

The wizard heard a subtle rustling in the dead leaves at the base of the tree next to the grave. At first, Obo could barely make out the tiny, manlike shapes, then they walked into the light. He stayed very still, watching the rythni as they came to Alemar and touched him lightly on the knee. The young man's trance broke. He lifted one of the fairy creatures in his palm.

Obo heard the rythni speak in a shrill, singsong voice. Alemar answered briefly, in the same language.

Obo smiled, and stopped worrying so deeply. The boy had his sister, his grandfather, Lord Dran and his household – too many who cared for his well-being to let him slide into permanent melancholy. And if these were not enough, the rythni would be there, with their laughter and music, special allies that few other humans in Cilendrodel could claim.

Obo watched for a few more moments, then slipped quietly away. The wizard had one pressing task yet to perform, a duty that he would have given a great deal to avoid. He felt very old. He wanted to put it off. But there was no way around it. Hewould have to know.

Obo found parchment and pen, and prepared the letter that would take the news to Elandris.