Read Online The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) by Clare Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clare Smith
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against the spikes of pain as blood flooded back into his unbound arms. “You are mistaken and the name’s Jonderill.”
“You are not Callistares as Tallison claims?” Tozaman asked in surprise.
“No. Although I could have been called that at one time, but now my name is Jonderill and believe me, I have no magic.”
Tozaman shook his head again. It didn’t make sense but he was convinced that he was right. “Your name doesn’t matter, only the magic which burns within you. My father told me of your kind and the power which lives inside of you and he should know, he was there when magic built our city from the sands of the desert. He told me that magic could be used to do good, and if that is so, it cannot be destroyed so easily. He didn’t believe that magic was evil as Tallison preaches to our people.”
“Do you believe that too?”
Tozaman thought about it for a moment. Until today he hadn’t believed in magic at all, the same as he didn’t believe in the Goddess or Talis. They were just stories people told to keep others in line. Even his father had used the threat of the Goddess’s disfavour to make him an obedient child. “I have no belief in anything which I cannot see or hear or touch.”
“But Tallison does. Why does he fear magic so much?”
“It’s not fear, our people are never afraid. It is a hatred of your kind which drives him to do these things to you. My father told me that before I was born, Tallison was heir to the throne of Sandstrone, but he was an evil man even then, and the Goddess ordained that he should not be king. She sent two of her servants to put his younger brother on the throne, but in her mercy she let him live. The Goddess was foolish and Tallison repaid her mercy by murdering his brother and his magician and destroying everything they built together. Now Tallison rules the land and Talis men’s hearts and everything which was good has been swept away.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man, perhaps he should be Rale of Sandstrone.”
“My father is dead, destroyed by Tallison along with the city he helped to build.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“You needn’t be, he wouldn’t have wanted to live to see what Tallison has done or what his son has become.”
It was true; his father would weep if he knew that his son had lost his belief in everything. But perhaps it was not so, perhaps he really did believe in magic. Why else would he be standing here spilling his heart out to a condemned man and calling him magician. Could it have been magic he had felt and not just pity for the man?
“Do not give in magician, your magic has not gone, it’s still inside of you and will return.”
“If only, Tozaman, if only.”
“It will,” Tozaman said with more conviction than he felt. “Now rest if you can and I will keep you safe until Tallison returns for you when the sun sets.”
He turned away to watch the slowly dispersing crowd and Jonderill closed his eyes. It was impossible to sleep but at least now, with the robe protecting his head from the sun, he could rest and that surprised him. Somehow, without consciously thinking about it, he had managed to wrap up the pain of his missing hands and his other wounds and had confined them to a corner of his mind. He thought about what Tozaman had said, about having magic inside of him waiting to be released and wondered if his new found ability to put things in closed off parts of his mind was a part of that magic.
It was unlikely; he’d never had much magic in the first place and in all the time he’d spent with Callabris he had never once mentioned how you could use magic to control your mind. Magic was physical; it had to be manipulated with a movement or a gesture. That’s why hands were so useful. He put that though firmly out of his mind before the loss of his hands and his helplessness overwhelmed him.
“Magician.” Jonderill startled awake. He hadn’t been sleeping, it was impossible to sleep
“You are not Callistares as Tallison claims?” Tozaman asked in surprise.
“No. Although I could have been called that at one time, but now my name is Jonderill and believe me, I have no magic.”
Tozaman shook his head again. It didn’t make sense but he was convinced that he was right. “Your name doesn’t matter, only the magic which burns within you. My father told me of your kind and the power which lives inside of you and he should know, he was there when magic built our city from the sands of the desert. He told me that magic could be used to do good, and if that is so, it cannot be destroyed so easily. He didn’t believe that magic was evil as Tallison preaches to our people.”
“Do you believe that too?”
Tozaman thought about it for a moment. Until today he hadn’t believed in magic at all, the same as he didn’t believe in the Goddess or Talis. They were just stories people told to keep others in line. Even his father had used the threat of the Goddess’s disfavour to make him an obedient child. “I have no belief in anything which I cannot see or hear or touch.”
“But Tallison does. Why does he fear magic so much?”
“It’s not fear, our people are never afraid. It is a hatred of your kind which drives him to do these things to you. My father told me that before I was born, Tallison was heir to the throne of Sandstrone, but he was an evil man even then, and the Goddess ordained that he should not be king. She sent two of her servants to put his younger brother on the throne, but in her mercy she let him live. The Goddess was foolish and Tallison repaid her mercy by murdering his brother and his magician and destroying everything they built together. Now Tallison rules the land and Talis men’s hearts and everything which was good has been swept away.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man, perhaps he should be Rale of Sandstrone.”
“My father is dead, destroyed by Tallison along with the city he helped to build.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“You needn’t be, he wouldn’t have wanted to live to see what Tallison has done or what his son has become.”
It was true; his father would weep if he knew that his son had lost his belief in everything. But perhaps it was not so, perhaps he really did believe in magic. Why else would he be standing here spilling his heart out to a condemned man and calling him magician. Could it have been magic he had felt and not just pity for the man?
“Do not give in magician, your magic has not gone, it’s still inside of you and will return.”
“If only, Tozaman, if only.”
“It will,” Tozaman said with more conviction than he felt. “Now rest if you can and I will keep you safe until Tallison returns for you when the sun sets.”
He turned away to watch the slowly dispersing crowd and Jonderill closed his eyes. It was impossible to sleep but at least now, with the robe protecting his head from the sun, he could rest and that surprised him. Somehow, without consciously thinking about it, he had managed to wrap up the pain of his missing hands and his other wounds and had confined them to a corner of his mind. He thought about what Tozaman had said, about having magic inside of him waiting to be released and wondered if his new found ability to put things in closed off parts of his mind was a part of that magic.
It was unlikely; he’d never had much magic in the first place and in all the time he’d spent with Callabris he had never once mentioned how you could use magic to control your mind. Magic was physical; it had to be manipulated with a movement or a gesture. That’s why hands were so useful. He put that though firmly out of his mind before the loss of his hands and his helplessness overwhelmed him.
“Magician.” Jonderill startled awake. He hadn’t been sleeping, it was impossible to sleep
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