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rose_in_winterPairings/Characters: Kain Highwind, plus cast
Rating: R (overall), PG (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content. Other warnings may apply that are not listed here.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward.
Wordcount: 4100 this chapter.
Beta:celeloriel
Rosa, Porom, and Solon spent three days closeted together, with frequent side trips down to the dungeon to question Skerrin. Kain found himself trying to construct excuses to visit the white mages' classroom or let chance find him in the dungeon when they were there, and he forced himself to stay away. His lack of knowledge would only prove a hindrance. In the meantime, he reviewed Lady Nerun's reports more thoroughly and confirmed that the plague struck only the Baron-born; those who had come from other nations were unaffected, which was unlikely to be random chance given how far the plague had spread. When they were not researching, the white mages had worked to heal those falling ill, but it was not enough to keep pace with the disease.
Most unfortunately, a few citizens had noticed that no one born outside Baron had fallen ill, and Kain had his hands full directing the castle guard and the army to assist the city guard in keeping the unrest from exploding into actual violence. He sent Rosa a terse note with a summary of the situation, and a few minutes later she arrived in his office, with Porom and Solon in tow.
He looked up from reviewing a list of guard rotations and patrol routes, and closed his mouth on a greeting when he saw how serious their expressions were.
"We are going to cast the ritual tonight," Rosa said. "We need materials, and assistance." She held out a piece of paper on which she had written a short list. Kain read over it—herbs, purified water, chalk, sanctified oil—and frowned at the note that indicated that Skerrin needed to be present.
"We will need the main courtyard cleared, please," Porom said. "The town square would be better, but I suspect it will be easier to keep people out of the castle, so we will adapt."
Kain read the last item on the list—a silver-bladed knife—and looked up at Rosa, frowning.
"The ritual requires nothing that will not be freely offered and given," Rosa said, but although she looked directly at him, her gaze seemed focused past him. He was not reassured.
"Please," Porom repeated. Solon said nothing, but his expression was sober.
Kain sighed. "Very well," he said. "Does the courtyard need to be cleaned first?" He knew little of magic, but he was aware of the idea of sympathy—things with like attributes strengthening each other. It seemed like a ritual to purify a disease should be in the cleanest space possible.
"If it is possible, that would be ideal," Solon said.
Kain nodded and rose from his desk. "I'll see to it."
"We will need to rest until sunset," Rosa said. "We will begin then."
She looked much too sad, but her demeanor warned him off asking questions. Hoping he would not regret that failure to ask later, he bowed to her. "I will see that you are not disturbed," he said reluctantly.
"Thank you." She left the room in silence. Kain read over the list she had given him twice more, furious and despairing at his lack of knowledge of the magical arts, because he did not know enough to know what she was planning on doing. The knife haunted him.
Surely Rosa would not leave Jalen and Sophia orphans?
He tried to ignore the part of him that was worried Rosa would abandon him. He was far less important, in the larger world, than her children.
At last he tucked the list in his pocket and left the room. Rarely had he failed to do anything Rosa asked of him; he was certainly not going to begin a new habit today. He paused to give orders to the guards regarding getting the courtyard cleaned, and then went looking for magic.
Somewhat to his surprise, the knife was among the least difficult items to find. Baron's chapel made use of such ritual items, and the priest was pleased to hand over a knife that was not actively used, since Kain could not promise the return of the one used in important ceremonies. He then went to find Veran Mertei, since he assumed that Breida Salan was busy, and asked him for assistance in finding the other materials. Veran read over the list, frowning nearly as much as Kain had, but he quickly accumulated a pile of the requested items.
"Do you wish my presence at the ritual, Lord Regent?" he asked as Kain loaded the lot into a basket for easier carrying.
Kain looked up at him, frowning, and Veran shrugged. "I do not know if what they plan to do requires white magic alone," he said, "but sometimes another pair of hands can be useful."
Kain nearly agreed, but then he remembered that he had no idea whether Veran had favoured Solon or Livius as the old Elder's successor, and suddenly he doubted the ingredients in his basket. "That will not be necessary," he said formally, "though I thank you for your offer of assistance."
Veran nodded, seemingly not offended, and turned back to the book he had been reading when Kain arrived. Kain left the room and carried the basket back to his office, where he inspected each item carefully and compared it against the list. He could find no discrepancy, and he was unsure if he was reassured or further worried by that fact. Veran had shown no sign of trouble before, and Kain wondered if his distrust did a disservice to the black mage.
He could not risk it.
He bundled the items back into the basket and gauged the angle of the sun. He had just time for a very quick meal and his own preparations.
An hour later, having eaten and bathed, he made his way to the castle courtyard. There were more people present than he had expected; he saw Constance Nerthic's dark head bent over a scroll with Rosa's pale curls. Mistress Salan was conferring with Solon and Porom, and Kain at least vaguely recognized the seven others present as advanced students in white magic. The clank of chains preceded Skerrin's arrival from the dungeon, under heavy guard with four of the palace guards and two Dragoons.
"Unchain him, please," Rosa said. "Steel will only interfere."
The Dragoons hesitated, and looked to Kain for confirmation. He glanced at Rosa, who met his gaze steadily. He did not like it, but he nodded. "As Her Majesty says," he said, "he should be unchained."
Nevertheless, he kept his left hand on the haft of his spear, but Skerrin did nothing upon being unchained other than clasp his hands before him and rub his wrists. Rosa handed off her parchment to Porom and began drawing a circle on the stones of the courtyard in chalk. She scattered herbs within it, and set the oil and water at the far north point of the circle.
Shadows stretched across the courtyard in stark contrast to the ruddy sunset light. Kain recalled another sunset in this same courtyard, when he had executed two men, and felt a chill run down his spine.
"We begin," Rosa said. "Skerrin, you may stand there." When he moved into his assigned position, she handed him a sheet of parchment; he read it rapidly in the dying light, and nodded. The other twelve mages shuffled into an evenly spaced circle around the brazier Rosa had ordered placed at a very specific point in the courtyard. It had already been lit, and its coals glowed red beneath their fine coating of ash. Thin streams of smoke wafted upward. A memory of Rubicante's quarters in the Tower of Zot sprang unbidden to Kain's mind; the entire thing had been awash in smoke and ash and glowing coals.
He forced himself back to the present in time to see twelve of the mages start swaying back and forth. Porom led a chant in which three others followed her; a moment later, Solon and three more picked up what seemed to be the same chant. Mistress Salan joined in with her own followers, who included Skerrin. It ran in circles like a children's song, though no children's song Kain had ever heard made his bones vibrate like Golbez's spells. Rosa did not join the round chant, instead picking up a different chant that had a rhythm that ran in counterpoint to the other. She stepped into the center of the circle and the other mages shifted to close the ring. Still chanting, she picked up the oil she had placed earlier, and began anointing each of the others. Last she anointed herself, oil gleaming against her skin in the flickering firelight. She sprinkled them each with water, then scattered a few drops on the brazier. It hissed and emitted steam, and Kain swore that the color of the coals changed briefly, flickering white rather than red-orange. Lastly she picked up the herbs and held them in her hands while she chanted, scattering them bit by bit on the brazier. This time, Kain was able to see the change: the coals lightened into dark grey streaked with red, then grew paler and paler until they blazed white-hot, and he wondered that the brazier did not simply melt from the intensity.
The chant rose with the flame, and Rosa stood in the center with the knife in her hand. She picked up a bowl and went to the first of the mages, who held out her hand without breaking rhythm. Rosa cut her palm, and caught the blood in a bowl. So it was with each of the mages who stood chanting in the circle, with Skerrin coming last. Rosa handed him the nearly-full bowl and cut her own hand above it, then took the bowl back to the center of the circle. She added oil and water, and the chanting rose to a frenzied pitch.
She poured the blood onto the brazier and unleashed a maelstrom.
At least so it felt to Kain; the magic flayed him like the Devil's Road, and he gripped his spear until his hands ached and his gauntlets dug into his skin. Wind rushed past him as though Barbariccia carried him once more in the thin air above the Tower of Zot, but he could hear nothing. His vision was filled with white light, but—although he hated the feel of magic lashing against his skin, he was surprised to find that unlike Golbez's spells, this did not hurt. He felt...
Purified.
The light began to fade, though the feeling of being cleansed did not, and at last he opened his eyes.
All the mages lay sprawled on the stones of the courtyard, and he thought he saw blood trickling from several noses, though they all seemed to be breathing.
Except Rosa.
He abandoned dignity and raced across the courtyard, stopping only long enough to see that the chalk circle—indeed, all of the implements except the knife Rosa still clutched in her right hand—had vanished utterly. He leapt easily over Porom, who was elegant even in unconsciousness, and dropped to his knees beside Rosa. She was skeletally thin, in a way she had not been even in those terrible days after Cecil's death, much thinner than she had been only that afternoon, and her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. He could count the veins beneath it. Blood trickled, vividly crimson, from her nose and the corner of her mouth, though the cut on her hand had already been healed. He reached out to check for a pulse, terrified of what he would find, and she coughed faintly. He slid a hand carefully beneath her head—she felt so fragile—and eased her up just enough to have her resting against his legs rather than the hard, chilly stone of the courtyard. Spring was not yet advanced enough for the sun's heat to soak into the stone and remain there after dark.
"Tend to them," he called out, and heard guards moving to the other mages. He had had a supply of ethers and potions brought, and he pulled two Hi-Potions from his own pocket, cracking the seals on both at once to pour them down Rosa's throat. That stopped the blood oozing from her nose, and her eyes fluttered open. He dug out the ether, but she pushed it away.
"Don't waste it," she said, and her voice cracked, thin and broken. Her eyelids fluttered shut again.
He looked around the circle; all of the mages except Skerrin were sitting up, with some help, and accepting the potions they'd been given. Porom gulped down three ethers and staggered to her feet, lurching until the guard with her steadied her. She made her way slowly and unevenly toward them, magic already shaping between her hands, and Kain watched the blue-white light of curative magic wash over Rosa. Her eyes opened slowly, but they opened. She winced.
"You did it," Porom said, and then collapsed in a heap. She seemed to still be conscious, only exhausted.
Rosa smiled faintly, and then sighed. "I am too old for sleeping on stone floors," she said, and Kain had to laugh.
"Then, Your Majesty, I will see you safely to your chambers," he said.
One of the guards had had the sense to call for litters and enough were brought for all of the mages, save Skerrin. As Kain had guessed, Skerrin was dead, his body having wasted away even more than Rosa's. His entire face was a bloody mess, and he lay with his limbs at angles that would have been agonizing had he been alive. He looked more like a badly-sewn puppet than a person.
"What do we do with him, Lord Regent?" one of the guards asked.
Kain shook his head. "Move his body for now; I will determine its disposition tomorrow." He was exhausted, and the strain of being around so much magic had left him light-headed.
The guard saluted, and Kain turned toward his tower. Sleep was what he needed.
~*~
The next morning, there was a message waiting for him that Her Majesty was still resting from her efforts the night before. Kain set it aside and was just beginning his work when there was a knock on the door. At his invitation to enter, Porom slipped in, closing the door behind her.
It was hard to believe she was almost eighteen already; she carried herself with the grace and poise of a woman ten years older, but Kain remembered her as a child. It was harder, in some ways, to reconcile her growing up than it was to see Jalen. He assumed it was a matter of familiarity; had he seen her more frequently, it might have seemed less strange.
Ever proper, she curtsied first, and then took the chair he indicated.
"Rosa is well," she said before he could ask.
"Thank you." There was more he wanted to say, but his tongue tangled in the words, so he did not. "Have you been able to confirm that the ritual was successful?" He was owed a new report from Lady Nerun at noon, but he doubted it would have been compiled at a time that would reflect the outcome.
"Didn't you feel it?" Porom frowned, a tiny vertical line forming between her eyebrows. "I believe it worked."
"It was hard to discern its efficacy; all I could feel was magic," Kain said, and tried to offer a smile instead of bitterness.
Porom's frown smoothed out slightly. "Most of us should be well recovered in a day or two," she said briskly. "As the focus of the ritual, Rosa will likely need a bit longer."
"But she will recover?" Kain prompted when Porom fell silent.
"It will just take time," Porom assured him, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. That was unusual; in his experience she generally preferred eye contact. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair, and he counted to three slowly until he thought he could make his voice even.
"Porom, what aren't you telling me?"
A touch of color darkened her cheeks. "It isn't for me to tell," she said, and now she did meet his gaze. "Rosa will heal, Kain, I assure you. She had to put more into the ritual than the rest of us did."
Something about her phrasing bothered him, but he could not identify what it was. "And Skerrin?" he asked.
Porom looked sad, and shook her head. "We didn't ask him to do that," she said.
"Do what?"
She twisted her fingers together in her lap, a nervous gesture he had never seen from her before. "He chose to sacrifice himself," she said, "to give the ritual more power."
Kain thought of Skerrin's words in the dungeon. "Perhaps he meant it as atonement," he suggested, making a note to see that Skerrin was properly buried as a citizen of Baron might be. An honorable funeral seemed fitting.
Porom scowled. "It was not his to make amends," she said, a sharp edge to her voice. "He gave us the keys to the ritual, he did what he could to alleviate a wrong he had not committed. How can that be right?"
"It does not matter whether one is used or acts of one's own will," Kain said, trying not to hear the screaming of the wind around the Tower of Zot rushing in his ears. "Acts that bring harm are not erased by one's intentions."
She did not answer, and at last she stood and left his office without another word. Kain sighed and tried to lose himself in the work that awaited him. He had never been terribly interested in the business of governance; another reason he had never wanted to be Odin's heir, though he had been intensely jealous of Cecil's prestige. Captaining the Dragoons had been enough for him, for he had earned it, and it had required far less being cooped up inside instead of putting his training to good use. Still, Odin had made sure that both he and Cecil had a basic working knowledge of how to run the kingdom. Kain knew he had been the spare, but in retrospect he thought perhaps he had judged King Odin too harshly for paying more attention to Cecil. It had only been good planning.
He made a note to himself to include Sophia in as many of Jalen's lessons as he could. There was little sense in repeating past mistakes, and whether she wed into another kingdom or remained here, the knowledge would do little harm.
~*~
It was longer than a few days—in fact, almost a week—before Rosa was seen about the castle. She came to speak to him one evening as he stood atop one of the towers, watching the sun sink below the horizon. Her ritual had indeed served its purpose; no new cases of the plague had been reported since the night of the ritual. All those who had fallen ill had been healed that same night.
He heard her footsteps behind him, as familiar as his own, and turned to greet her. She was still much too thin, but not as fragile as she had been that night in the courtyard. Something else was wrong that he could not quite identify; she seemed to be missing something. Perhaps it was only that she still looked tired. His mental picture of her had her nearly radiating energy and magic, and now she looked like any other woman.
Rosa had never been any other woman to him. He shoved the thought aside and bowed. "Good evening, Your Majesty."
She smiled faintly, and moved to stand beside him at the crenellation, though she kept an appropriate distance between them. "Are you well?" she asked, and it was oddly distant and formal.
"I am," Kain said, cautiously. "And you, Your Majesty?"
"As well as can be expected," she said, and a little chill snaked its way down his spine to coil in his stomach. "There are arrangements that must be made, Kain."
"I had Skerrin buried properly," he said, wondering what piece of information he was missing.
Rosa shook her head. "Not that," she said, and her hands clenched into fists where they rested atop the stones. "We shall need to appoint a new head of the White Mages' Order."
Kain was certain he must have misheard her. "Are you stepping down?" he asked. He knew Rosa was weary of all of the details that came with running a kingdom—no less than he himself—but he would have thought she would turn over the strains of being sole regent to him before she would step down from the Order. She loved to mentor the new mages.
"I am no longer qualified," Rosa said, and the words fell into the stillness like shattering ice.
It clicked into place suddenly, and he refused to accept it. "I do not understand," he said instead, and knew from the way the corners of her mouth turned down that she knew it for the lie it was.
"Magic is not free." She stared at nothing, her eyes as empty as they had been when she was held captive in Zot. The comparison made him want to retch. "To complete the ritual, to counteract such a powerful spell, a sacrifice was required."
The fury that bubbled hot in his chest was an improvement over the icy nausea. "And no one else could do it?" Even as he asked, he knew what she would say. Cecil would have said the same thing.
"Practically speaking, my value to Baron is in the crown and my children, not my magic," she said. "We have other white mages."
"You are more than your children," Kain grated. He had to believe that; if one's children were all one had, then—no. He and Elizabeth had years left to make an heir, and that was not the focus of the discussion in any event.
"To you? Yes. To Baron? Perhaps not." Rosa smoothed the lace that trimmed her sleeves absently. "I would not let Porom do it; she is too young. Solon's magic is needed for the day they return to Mysidia. I would not have trusted Skerrin to take the lead in the ritual. Mistress Salan is needed to teach new mages. I do not think the others were powerful enough. What would you have had me do, Kain? Cling to my magic and let Baron die around us?" She shook her head, and he tried to pretend he didn't see the tears glimmering along her lashes. "For every light, there is a shadow cast. Did not Yang say so, years ago? It needed to be done."
From the way the skin drew taut and white across her knuckles where she clenched her fists, he knew she believed it as little as he did. She looked so lost, so diminished without her magic—for he realized now that was what was missing.
She did not need him to tell her that; her magic had always been a part of her. She would feel its loss more keenly than his words could express.
He reached out carefully and laid his hand over hers. She flinched, but did not move her hands. He stared at nothing, torn between retreat and wishing that he could give her some comfort.
He admitted, bitterly, that he had always taken her magic for granted. Be it a wound in battle or a minor illness, always she had been there to soothe it away. That would be no more, and he was a selfish ass for caring how it might affect him. There were other white mages, though none like Rosa.
"I have been shirking my duties as regent," Rosa said softly when the silence had spun out to the point of discomfort. "I will resume them tomorrow."
He thought carefully about how to phrase his reply. "If you require more time to recover, I am quite capable of handling the business by myself," he offered. No, the words were no less awkward stumbling off his tongue than they had been in his mind.
"I would prefer something to keep myself occupied." She gently withdrew her hands from beneath his, and inclined her head to him. "I will see you on the morrow. Rest well, Kain."
"Rest well," he said, and watched her mouth wobble in an attempt at a smile. She left without another word.
He remained atop the tower far into the night, watching the stars bloom above his head and wondering how many more such disasters Baron could reasonably endure.
Rating: R (overall), PG (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content. Other warnings may apply that are not listed here.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward.
Wordcount: 4100 this chapter.
Beta:
celelorielRosa, Porom, and Solon spent three days closeted together, with frequent side trips down to the dungeon to question Skerrin. Kain found himself trying to construct excuses to visit the white mages' classroom or let chance find him in the dungeon when they were there, and he forced himself to stay away. His lack of knowledge would only prove a hindrance. In the meantime, he reviewed Lady Nerun's reports more thoroughly and confirmed that the plague struck only the Baron-born; those who had come from other nations were unaffected, which was unlikely to be random chance given how far the plague had spread. When they were not researching, the white mages had worked to heal those falling ill, but it was not enough to keep pace with the disease.
Most unfortunately, a few citizens had noticed that no one born outside Baron had fallen ill, and Kain had his hands full directing the castle guard and the army to assist the city guard in keeping the unrest from exploding into actual violence. He sent Rosa a terse note with a summary of the situation, and a few minutes later she arrived in his office, with Porom and Solon in tow.
He looked up from reviewing a list of guard rotations and patrol routes, and closed his mouth on a greeting when he saw how serious their expressions were.
"We are going to cast the ritual tonight," Rosa said. "We need materials, and assistance." She held out a piece of paper on which she had written a short list. Kain read over it—herbs, purified water, chalk, sanctified oil—and frowned at the note that indicated that Skerrin needed to be present.
"We will need the main courtyard cleared, please," Porom said. "The town square would be better, but I suspect it will be easier to keep people out of the castle, so we will adapt."
Kain read the last item on the list—a silver-bladed knife—and looked up at Rosa, frowning.
"The ritual requires nothing that will not be freely offered and given," Rosa said, but although she looked directly at him, her gaze seemed focused past him. He was not reassured.
"Please," Porom repeated. Solon said nothing, but his expression was sober.
Kain sighed. "Very well," he said. "Does the courtyard need to be cleaned first?" He knew little of magic, but he was aware of the idea of sympathy—things with like attributes strengthening each other. It seemed like a ritual to purify a disease should be in the cleanest space possible.
"If it is possible, that would be ideal," Solon said.
Kain nodded and rose from his desk. "I'll see to it."
"We will need to rest until sunset," Rosa said. "We will begin then."
She looked much too sad, but her demeanor warned him off asking questions. Hoping he would not regret that failure to ask later, he bowed to her. "I will see that you are not disturbed," he said reluctantly.
"Thank you." She left the room in silence. Kain read over the list she had given him twice more, furious and despairing at his lack of knowledge of the magical arts, because he did not know enough to know what she was planning on doing. The knife haunted him.
Surely Rosa would not leave Jalen and Sophia orphans?
He tried to ignore the part of him that was worried Rosa would abandon him. He was far less important, in the larger world, than her children.
At last he tucked the list in his pocket and left the room. Rarely had he failed to do anything Rosa asked of him; he was certainly not going to begin a new habit today. He paused to give orders to the guards regarding getting the courtyard cleaned, and then went looking for magic.
Somewhat to his surprise, the knife was among the least difficult items to find. Baron's chapel made use of such ritual items, and the priest was pleased to hand over a knife that was not actively used, since Kain could not promise the return of the one used in important ceremonies. He then went to find Veran Mertei, since he assumed that Breida Salan was busy, and asked him for assistance in finding the other materials. Veran read over the list, frowning nearly as much as Kain had, but he quickly accumulated a pile of the requested items.
"Do you wish my presence at the ritual, Lord Regent?" he asked as Kain loaded the lot into a basket for easier carrying.
Kain looked up at him, frowning, and Veran shrugged. "I do not know if what they plan to do requires white magic alone," he said, "but sometimes another pair of hands can be useful."
Kain nearly agreed, but then he remembered that he had no idea whether Veran had favoured Solon or Livius as the old Elder's successor, and suddenly he doubted the ingredients in his basket. "That will not be necessary," he said formally, "though I thank you for your offer of assistance."
Veran nodded, seemingly not offended, and turned back to the book he had been reading when Kain arrived. Kain left the room and carried the basket back to his office, where he inspected each item carefully and compared it against the list. He could find no discrepancy, and he was unsure if he was reassured or further worried by that fact. Veran had shown no sign of trouble before, and Kain wondered if his distrust did a disservice to the black mage.
He could not risk it.
He bundled the items back into the basket and gauged the angle of the sun. He had just time for a very quick meal and his own preparations.
An hour later, having eaten and bathed, he made his way to the castle courtyard. There were more people present than he had expected; he saw Constance Nerthic's dark head bent over a scroll with Rosa's pale curls. Mistress Salan was conferring with Solon and Porom, and Kain at least vaguely recognized the seven others present as advanced students in white magic. The clank of chains preceded Skerrin's arrival from the dungeon, under heavy guard with four of the palace guards and two Dragoons.
"Unchain him, please," Rosa said. "Steel will only interfere."
The Dragoons hesitated, and looked to Kain for confirmation. He glanced at Rosa, who met his gaze steadily. He did not like it, but he nodded. "As Her Majesty says," he said, "he should be unchained."
Nevertheless, he kept his left hand on the haft of his spear, but Skerrin did nothing upon being unchained other than clasp his hands before him and rub his wrists. Rosa handed off her parchment to Porom and began drawing a circle on the stones of the courtyard in chalk. She scattered herbs within it, and set the oil and water at the far north point of the circle.
Shadows stretched across the courtyard in stark contrast to the ruddy sunset light. Kain recalled another sunset in this same courtyard, when he had executed two men, and felt a chill run down his spine.
"We begin," Rosa said. "Skerrin, you may stand there." When he moved into his assigned position, she handed him a sheet of parchment; he read it rapidly in the dying light, and nodded. The other twelve mages shuffled into an evenly spaced circle around the brazier Rosa had ordered placed at a very specific point in the courtyard. It had already been lit, and its coals glowed red beneath their fine coating of ash. Thin streams of smoke wafted upward. A memory of Rubicante's quarters in the Tower of Zot sprang unbidden to Kain's mind; the entire thing had been awash in smoke and ash and glowing coals.
He forced himself back to the present in time to see twelve of the mages start swaying back and forth. Porom led a chant in which three others followed her; a moment later, Solon and three more picked up what seemed to be the same chant. Mistress Salan joined in with her own followers, who included Skerrin. It ran in circles like a children's song, though no children's song Kain had ever heard made his bones vibrate like Golbez's spells. Rosa did not join the round chant, instead picking up a different chant that had a rhythm that ran in counterpoint to the other. She stepped into the center of the circle and the other mages shifted to close the ring. Still chanting, she picked up the oil she had placed earlier, and began anointing each of the others. Last she anointed herself, oil gleaming against her skin in the flickering firelight. She sprinkled them each with water, then scattered a few drops on the brazier. It hissed and emitted steam, and Kain swore that the color of the coals changed briefly, flickering white rather than red-orange. Lastly she picked up the herbs and held them in her hands while she chanted, scattering them bit by bit on the brazier. This time, Kain was able to see the change: the coals lightened into dark grey streaked with red, then grew paler and paler until they blazed white-hot, and he wondered that the brazier did not simply melt from the intensity.
The chant rose with the flame, and Rosa stood in the center with the knife in her hand. She picked up a bowl and went to the first of the mages, who held out her hand without breaking rhythm. Rosa cut her palm, and caught the blood in a bowl. So it was with each of the mages who stood chanting in the circle, with Skerrin coming last. Rosa handed him the nearly-full bowl and cut her own hand above it, then took the bowl back to the center of the circle. She added oil and water, and the chanting rose to a frenzied pitch.
She poured the blood onto the brazier and unleashed a maelstrom.
At least so it felt to Kain; the magic flayed him like the Devil's Road, and he gripped his spear until his hands ached and his gauntlets dug into his skin. Wind rushed past him as though Barbariccia carried him once more in the thin air above the Tower of Zot, but he could hear nothing. His vision was filled with white light, but—although he hated the feel of magic lashing against his skin, he was surprised to find that unlike Golbez's spells, this did not hurt. He felt...
Purified.
The light began to fade, though the feeling of being cleansed did not, and at last he opened his eyes.
All the mages lay sprawled on the stones of the courtyard, and he thought he saw blood trickling from several noses, though they all seemed to be breathing.
Except Rosa.
He abandoned dignity and raced across the courtyard, stopping only long enough to see that the chalk circle—indeed, all of the implements except the knife Rosa still clutched in her right hand—had vanished utterly. He leapt easily over Porom, who was elegant even in unconsciousness, and dropped to his knees beside Rosa. She was skeletally thin, in a way she had not been even in those terrible days after Cecil's death, much thinner than she had been only that afternoon, and her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. He could count the veins beneath it. Blood trickled, vividly crimson, from her nose and the corner of her mouth, though the cut on her hand had already been healed. He reached out to check for a pulse, terrified of what he would find, and she coughed faintly. He slid a hand carefully beneath her head—she felt so fragile—and eased her up just enough to have her resting against his legs rather than the hard, chilly stone of the courtyard. Spring was not yet advanced enough for the sun's heat to soak into the stone and remain there after dark.
"Tend to them," he called out, and heard guards moving to the other mages. He had had a supply of ethers and potions brought, and he pulled two Hi-Potions from his own pocket, cracking the seals on both at once to pour them down Rosa's throat. That stopped the blood oozing from her nose, and her eyes fluttered open. He dug out the ether, but she pushed it away.
"Don't waste it," she said, and her voice cracked, thin and broken. Her eyelids fluttered shut again.
He looked around the circle; all of the mages except Skerrin were sitting up, with some help, and accepting the potions they'd been given. Porom gulped down three ethers and staggered to her feet, lurching until the guard with her steadied her. She made her way slowly and unevenly toward them, magic already shaping between her hands, and Kain watched the blue-white light of curative magic wash over Rosa. Her eyes opened slowly, but they opened. She winced.
"You did it," Porom said, and then collapsed in a heap. She seemed to still be conscious, only exhausted.
Rosa smiled faintly, and then sighed. "I am too old for sleeping on stone floors," she said, and Kain had to laugh.
"Then, Your Majesty, I will see you safely to your chambers," he said.
One of the guards had had the sense to call for litters and enough were brought for all of the mages, save Skerrin. As Kain had guessed, Skerrin was dead, his body having wasted away even more than Rosa's. His entire face was a bloody mess, and he lay with his limbs at angles that would have been agonizing had he been alive. He looked more like a badly-sewn puppet than a person.
"What do we do with him, Lord Regent?" one of the guards asked.
Kain shook his head. "Move his body for now; I will determine its disposition tomorrow." He was exhausted, and the strain of being around so much magic had left him light-headed.
The guard saluted, and Kain turned toward his tower. Sleep was what he needed.
~*~
The next morning, there was a message waiting for him that Her Majesty was still resting from her efforts the night before. Kain set it aside and was just beginning his work when there was a knock on the door. At his invitation to enter, Porom slipped in, closing the door behind her.
It was hard to believe she was almost eighteen already; she carried herself with the grace and poise of a woman ten years older, but Kain remembered her as a child. It was harder, in some ways, to reconcile her growing up than it was to see Jalen. He assumed it was a matter of familiarity; had he seen her more frequently, it might have seemed less strange.
Ever proper, she curtsied first, and then took the chair he indicated.
"Rosa is well," she said before he could ask.
"Thank you." There was more he wanted to say, but his tongue tangled in the words, so he did not. "Have you been able to confirm that the ritual was successful?" He was owed a new report from Lady Nerun at noon, but he doubted it would have been compiled at a time that would reflect the outcome.
"Didn't you feel it?" Porom frowned, a tiny vertical line forming between her eyebrows. "I believe it worked."
"It was hard to discern its efficacy; all I could feel was magic," Kain said, and tried to offer a smile instead of bitterness.
Porom's frown smoothed out slightly. "Most of us should be well recovered in a day or two," she said briskly. "As the focus of the ritual, Rosa will likely need a bit longer."
"But she will recover?" Kain prompted when Porom fell silent.
"It will just take time," Porom assured him, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. That was unusual; in his experience she generally preferred eye contact. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair, and he counted to three slowly until he thought he could make his voice even.
"Porom, what aren't you telling me?"
A touch of color darkened her cheeks. "It isn't for me to tell," she said, and now she did meet his gaze. "Rosa will heal, Kain, I assure you. She had to put more into the ritual than the rest of us did."
Something about her phrasing bothered him, but he could not identify what it was. "And Skerrin?" he asked.
Porom looked sad, and shook her head. "We didn't ask him to do that," she said.
"Do what?"
She twisted her fingers together in her lap, a nervous gesture he had never seen from her before. "He chose to sacrifice himself," she said, "to give the ritual more power."
Kain thought of Skerrin's words in the dungeon. "Perhaps he meant it as atonement," he suggested, making a note to see that Skerrin was properly buried as a citizen of Baron might be. An honorable funeral seemed fitting.
Porom scowled. "It was not his to make amends," she said, a sharp edge to her voice. "He gave us the keys to the ritual, he did what he could to alleviate a wrong he had not committed. How can that be right?"
"It does not matter whether one is used or acts of one's own will," Kain said, trying not to hear the screaming of the wind around the Tower of Zot rushing in his ears. "Acts that bring harm are not erased by one's intentions."
She did not answer, and at last she stood and left his office without another word. Kain sighed and tried to lose himself in the work that awaited him. He had never been terribly interested in the business of governance; another reason he had never wanted to be Odin's heir, though he had been intensely jealous of Cecil's prestige. Captaining the Dragoons had been enough for him, for he had earned it, and it had required far less being cooped up inside instead of putting his training to good use. Still, Odin had made sure that both he and Cecil had a basic working knowledge of how to run the kingdom. Kain knew he had been the spare, but in retrospect he thought perhaps he had judged King Odin too harshly for paying more attention to Cecil. It had only been good planning.
He made a note to himself to include Sophia in as many of Jalen's lessons as he could. There was little sense in repeating past mistakes, and whether she wed into another kingdom or remained here, the knowledge would do little harm.
~*~
It was longer than a few days—in fact, almost a week—before Rosa was seen about the castle. She came to speak to him one evening as he stood atop one of the towers, watching the sun sink below the horizon. Her ritual had indeed served its purpose; no new cases of the plague had been reported since the night of the ritual. All those who had fallen ill had been healed that same night.
He heard her footsteps behind him, as familiar as his own, and turned to greet her. She was still much too thin, but not as fragile as she had been that night in the courtyard. Something else was wrong that he could not quite identify; she seemed to be missing something. Perhaps it was only that she still looked tired. His mental picture of her had her nearly radiating energy and magic, and now she looked like any other woman.
Rosa had never been any other woman to him. He shoved the thought aside and bowed. "Good evening, Your Majesty."
She smiled faintly, and moved to stand beside him at the crenellation, though she kept an appropriate distance between them. "Are you well?" she asked, and it was oddly distant and formal.
"I am," Kain said, cautiously. "And you, Your Majesty?"
"As well as can be expected," she said, and a little chill snaked its way down his spine to coil in his stomach. "There are arrangements that must be made, Kain."
"I had Skerrin buried properly," he said, wondering what piece of information he was missing.
Rosa shook her head. "Not that," she said, and her hands clenched into fists where they rested atop the stones. "We shall need to appoint a new head of the White Mages' Order."
Kain was certain he must have misheard her. "Are you stepping down?" he asked. He knew Rosa was weary of all of the details that came with running a kingdom—no less than he himself—but he would have thought she would turn over the strains of being sole regent to him before she would step down from the Order. She loved to mentor the new mages.
"I am no longer qualified," Rosa said, and the words fell into the stillness like shattering ice.
It clicked into place suddenly, and he refused to accept it. "I do not understand," he said instead, and knew from the way the corners of her mouth turned down that she knew it for the lie it was.
"Magic is not free." She stared at nothing, her eyes as empty as they had been when she was held captive in Zot. The comparison made him want to retch. "To complete the ritual, to counteract such a powerful spell, a sacrifice was required."
The fury that bubbled hot in his chest was an improvement over the icy nausea. "And no one else could do it?" Even as he asked, he knew what she would say. Cecil would have said the same thing.
"Practically speaking, my value to Baron is in the crown and my children, not my magic," she said. "We have other white mages."
"You are more than your children," Kain grated. He had to believe that; if one's children were all one had, then—no. He and Elizabeth had years left to make an heir, and that was not the focus of the discussion in any event.
"To you? Yes. To Baron? Perhaps not." Rosa smoothed the lace that trimmed her sleeves absently. "I would not let Porom do it; she is too young. Solon's magic is needed for the day they return to Mysidia. I would not have trusted Skerrin to take the lead in the ritual. Mistress Salan is needed to teach new mages. I do not think the others were powerful enough. What would you have had me do, Kain? Cling to my magic and let Baron die around us?" She shook her head, and he tried to pretend he didn't see the tears glimmering along her lashes. "For every light, there is a shadow cast. Did not Yang say so, years ago? It needed to be done."
From the way the skin drew taut and white across her knuckles where she clenched her fists, he knew she believed it as little as he did. She looked so lost, so diminished without her magic—for he realized now that was what was missing.
She did not need him to tell her that; her magic had always been a part of her. She would feel its loss more keenly than his words could express.
He reached out carefully and laid his hand over hers. She flinched, but did not move her hands. He stared at nothing, torn between retreat and wishing that he could give her some comfort.
He admitted, bitterly, that he had always taken her magic for granted. Be it a wound in battle or a minor illness, always she had been there to soothe it away. That would be no more, and he was a selfish ass for caring how it might affect him. There were other white mages, though none like Rosa.
"I have been shirking my duties as regent," Rosa said softly when the silence had spun out to the point of discomfort. "I will resume them tomorrow."
He thought carefully about how to phrase his reply. "If you require more time to recover, I am quite capable of handling the business by myself," he offered. No, the words were no less awkward stumbling off his tongue than they had been in his mind.
"I would prefer something to keep myself occupied." She gently withdrew her hands from beneath his, and inclined her head to him. "I will see you on the morrow. Rest well, Kain."
"Rest well," he said, and watched her mouth wobble in an attempt at a smile. She left without another word.
He remained atop the tower far into the night, watching the stars bloom above his head and wondering how many more such disasters Baron could reasonably endure.