Miranda’s dark eyes showed a mixture of distress for her husband’s pain, and irritation, an expression both sons knew well. A tender-hearted woman at times, but she could also be as impatient as a child.
‘Nakor?’ asked Caleb again.
‘He misses him,’ agreed Miranda. ‘More than he’d like anyone to know. That bandy-legged little vagabond had a unique mind and even when I was furious with him he could make me laugh.’ She paused and turned away, motioning for her sons to follow her down the hill and back towards the main villa. ‘During the ten years since his death, your father has uttered Nakor’s name once or twice a month. But he has mentioned him half a dozen times in the last week. Something is on his mind, something new and troubling.’
Villa Beata, ‘the beautiful home’, had grown over the years. The large square house still commanded the heart of the vale in which it nestled, but along the ridge, other buildings had been constructed, providing housing and study space for the students whom Pug had recruited. Miranda, Caleb and Magnus made their way down a long winding path towards what had once been the perimeter garden on the original property; it was now flanked on the north and south by barracks-like student housing.
Magnus said, ‘If Father is anticipating some new trouble, he’s not mentioned it to me or anyone else, as far as I can tell.’
Caleb said, ‘I’ve seen or heard nothing to suggest that our present tranquillity is in peril.’
Miranda said, ‘There’s always peril. Sometimes we simply don’t see it coming.’
Caleb smiled and said nothing. He had been given the responsibility, along with his brother and a pair of younger magicians, of coordinating the intelligence gathered by the Conclave of Shadows’ numerous agents, many of whom were placed in high offices throughout the major nations of Midkemia. There were reports of political rumblings in the Kingdom of the Isles, but they were so frequent that it wasn’t seen as a major concern. Kesh was unusually tranquil, and Roldem’s nobility continued to sit comfortably on their island, secure in their own sense of superiority.
They reached the villa and once inside, walked to the family’s quarters, now occupied only by Pug and Miranda since their sons had grown to manhood. Caleb lived nearby with his wife in a small house that Miranda had built for them when her son had first brought Marie to Sorcerer’s Island. Magnus still lived in the heart of the students’ wing on the large estate, to be on hand should the need arise when his father was absent.
Sitting in her favourite chair, a large wooden one with upholstered seat and back, Miranda said, ‘Something more than Nakor’s death has been haunting your father for years.’ She glanced at her ‘boys’; only Caleb looked his age, now well into his middle years, while Magnus still looked much as he had in his twenties, despite his snow-white hair and seniority. Neither son betrayed any hint that they knew of what she spoke.
‘No one knows your father like I do,’ said Miranda. ‘Yes, he’s a man of deep feelings and convictions, as well you both know.’ She pointed first at Magnus then at Caleb. ‘But what you don’t know is what happened to him before you were born, during the war with the Emerald Queen’s army. He nearly died when the demon’s magic took him by surprise.’ She looked away as she remembered. ‘I can’t persuade him to tell me much about that time, he lay near death and every healer we could find worked frantically to save him, but something in him changed after that.
‘Nakor’s death …’ She stopped and said, ‘Of course he was saddened by it, but this is not …’ Again she paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘It’s more than wistful regret. Your father is the most complex man I’ve known. He sees things, considers options, and makes choices before most men even understand what it is they are seeing. ‘His mind works in ways that I can’t begin to fathom. Oh, most of the magic disciplines—’ she glanced at Magnus, ‘—I recognize, but beyond that.…’
She caught her breath, realizing that she was no closer to sharing her concerns than she had been minutes before. It was Caleb who said, ‘He’s waiting for the other boot.’
Magnus said, ‘What?’
‘The old expression, “waiting for the other boot to drop”.’ Still his older brother didn’t seem to understand. ‘Comes from you wearing sandals, I suppose,’ said Caleb with a smile. ‘When you’re at an inn and someone in the room above kicks off a boot before going to bed, you hear the first one hit the floor and you wait until you hear the second before your mind can return fully to what it was doing before.’
Magnus nodded. ‘He does appear distracted from time to time.’
‘Preoccupied,’ said his mother. ‘He just hides it well from everyone, but me.’
‘Perhaps Father is anticipating something?’ Magnus said. He glanced out the window at the warm afternoon sun, ‘Well, as you said, he masks it well.’
Caleb shrugged at his mother. ‘Why don’t you ask him what he expects?’
‘You think I haven’t?’ She stood up and walked over to her younger son. Looking into his eyes, she said, ‘He is adroit at not telling me what he doesn’t want me to know.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I always tell him to mind his own affairs and leave me alone. He’s more diplomatic in his avoidance.’ With an aggravated sound she added, ‘I hate it when he does that!’
Her sons laughed. Their parents loved one another deeply, but both Magnus and Caleb were aware that their parents’ marriage was occasionally tense. Their mother was a strong-willed woman and older than her husband, though when both parents were over a century, the age difference became mostly academic. Still, they both knew that something else was bothering their father.
Pug had assumed a huge amount of responsibility over the years since he had returned to Midkemia from his life on the now extinct world of Kelewan. First he had ended the terrible war between the Tsurani and the Kingdom of the Isles, and then he had founded the colony of magicians called Stardock.
Magnus said, ‘He has been visiting Stardock more often than usual.’
When Stardock had become rife with political intrigue, he had quietly started his school here on Sorcerer’s Isle. The outside world considered the island a damned place, and ships from all nations gave it a wide berth; an attitude that Pug encouraged with deftly planted rumours and the occasional frightening display should a ship venture too close.
Pug was close to achieving his dream, creating the place he originally intended Stardock to be: an academy where magicians could study and practise their arts, exchange information and leave a legacy of knowledge to be passed on to future generations of magic users. This was the mandate he wished to leave as his personal legacy; Pug wished to perfect a haven for those who wished to be free of petty politics, the bigotry of superstition, a place where students were inculcated with the desire to serve and benefit others, rather than use their talents for personal aggrandizement, gain, or dominion.
Miranda said, ‘I count that as another sign he’s worried. He rarely bothers to visit them, unless he’s summoned. He’s fairly pleased with the current political situation.’
‘He had good reason,’ said Caleb. ‘That envoy from the Kingdom who offered some nonsense … What was it?’
‘As soon as Father learned that it once again involved us pledging fealty to the Kingdom, he rejected it,’ reminded Magnus.
Miranda nodded. ‘He wouldn’t even hear the man out. He didn’t tell me, the last time I was at Stardock one of the students took evil delight in explaining how the envoy from the Kingdom suddenly found himself in the lake, about a hundred yards off the docks at Landreth.’
Caleb laughed. ‘I assume the poor man could swim, else we’d be at war with the Kingdom by now. Drowning their envoys doesn’t sit at all well with kings.’
Magnus