Read Online Ink Mage by Victor Gischler - Free Book Online Page B

dozen, all chattering and running around in his brain. More than one mage has lost his mind trying to cram in too many. Those spells want out . It takes a strong mind to keep them in .”
    Rina’s back grew hot, and she stepped away from the fire. “How many can your mind hold?”
    The old man made a noncommittal noise. A pause. “Not enough. Never enough to make a difference.” He coughed and something rattled in his chest. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now. I’m an old man in a cave. I’ll give you the last of my magic, Duchess. Come. You’re dry now.”
    She turned and saw him sitting hunched and gray in the chair. He looked bad, skin sallow and slick, dark circles under his eyes. He was deteriorating rapidly. The shock must have shown on Rina’s face.
    “I told you I was keeping the sickness at bay,” he said. “Now that I’m no longer fighting it, it’s come rushing in, making up for lost time. I—” He coughed again, stronger this time, wracking his whole body.
    “Never mind.” He gestured her forward. “Come closer. Within arm’s reach.”
    As she approached, she glanced at the little table next to his chair. He’d laid out the spell book alongside a line of thin, metal instruments. Some looked pointy, and a flutter of nerves twisted Rina’s stomach.
    “Damn you, what is that?” Anger flared in his good eye. He rubbed a finger along the shallow gash in her side, and Rina winced. “This wound is fresh.”
    “During the escape,” she said.
    “Your skin needs to be completely clean and blemish free.” The irritation was plain in his voice.
    “I didn’t get myself slashed just to annoy you, okay?” It wasn’t a deep wound, but it hurt .
    “Shut up, girl. I’m thinking.”
    She opened her mouth to shoot something back at him, closed it again. Maybe she was learning.
    “Yes, yes, that might work to our advantage after all.” He chuckled dryly, which turned into another fit of wracking coughs.
    He composed himself, stood. “Wait here.” He went to the shelf and returned with a fat jar the size of a teacup, seated himself again.
    “Turn around.”
    She turned.
    A second later she felt his hand slather something on the wound, like goose grease. Immediately, a warmth spread out from the wound, the hot sting of the sword-gash fading.
    “A healing balm,” the mage told her.
    She thought about the little vial Kork had tossed her during the rescue. “Is it the same as the healing elixirs, the kind you drink?”
    “Most of the same ingredients, yes. But elixirs work fast. The balm works slowly, more appropriate for what I have in mind. I’m getting a little inventive. This will either work out very well for you or ruin the entire process. We’ll see, I suppose. Now kneel.”
    “Kneel?”
    “I need to work on your back and shoulders, and be damned if I’m going to stand for the whole thing. I’m too old, and this will take some time. Kneel.”
    She knelt. The rough, stone floor dug into her knees, but she kept still, heard him flipping pages in the book behind her. “You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do.”
    “I’m going to give you a tattoo.”
    She frowned. “You mean like sailors have?” She’d seen them before, fanciful illustrations of mermaids and sea dragons.
    “Yes,” the old man said. “And no.”
    Yeah, that’s informative .
    “The principle is the same,” he said. “But crassly decorating yourself is not the goal.”
    “I … I don’t know if I want a tattoo,” Rina said.
    The old mage sighed extravagantly. “You arrived here, orphaned, with nothing but the rags on your back. Foreigners have overrun your land, and where you go from here is anyone’s guess. I have doomed myself merely discussing this with you. What say we throw caution to the wind and get a tattoo today, Duchess, or do you have better offers?”
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “How is it done?”
    “Needles,” he said. “To insert the ink under the skin. Although