Eldor sat in his quarters, his fingers steepled together and eyes half closed, his mind busy, contemplating his strategy. Occasionally he chuckled, remembering the look of sheer outraged disbelief on Althor's face when he'd confronted him. It had been worth returning just for that, though of course, he had much bigger plans than simply scoring off his rival.
He had thought long and hard about the wisdom of returning to Tower Vierrac, but a single day in the remote settlement of Esperia had convinced him that anything was better than remaining there. When he had fled from his quarters, he'd chosen one of the more distant holdings, one he'd visited in the past when he'd been called to assess a youngster for mage potential.
Protected by thick stone walls, the settlement consisted of only five or six low buildings. Outside the walls were the viloe groves, small black berries which could be crushed into oil for cooking and to fuel lamps. Apart from the Holder and his family, the population varied from around twenty, rising to forty when the viloe season was in full swing.
The primitive facilities, the smallness of everything, not even the fawning promises of the current Holder had been enough to persuade him to stay any longer than he had to. Eldor had no desire to be a big fish in a small pond, not when he had the chance to be the most powerful Mage in Sunia. A few hours in Esperia had been quite long enough.
A glimpse through the glass had shown him the Guild Master lying on his bed, still senseless. And each time he looked, he saw the same scene. The Guild master hadn't moved. Until then, Eldor had been resigned to travelling across the seas, to Polonia or even distant Carillon to re-establish himself, but, was it possible he could return to Tower Vierrac and brazen things out? With any luck, he'd managed to administer enough hemal to keep Midor immobilised for several more days, if not forever. Was it worth the risk? By morning, he'd decided that yes, it was.
Returning to Vierrac had been a gamble, but so far, it was paying off. As long as the Guild Master remained senseless, he was safe. And now, he just had to come up with the right strategy to keep things that way... though, of course, the simplest solution would be if Midor never woke up.
He stood, stretched, and straightened his cloak before the glass. Time to show his face outside the Tower, and remind everyone of his existence. After all, with Midor incapacitated, as the senior mage, he was the obvious choice to take command. It was time to remind everyone of that.
~~~
Lucian glared as he watched Eldor parading around the courtyard, answering questions with a patronizing smile and giving orders as if he was already Guild Master. He gritted his teeth. How much longer did they have to put up with this? When would Midor wake and tell everyone the truth of what had happened?
The Tower healer, Livia, came to stand next to him.
"I'm worried about the Guild master," she confessed. "He has yet to rouse. Oh, he has stirred a few times, but never enough to waken fully. He is not a young man. Perhaps the hemal has affected him more than I first thought." She chewed her bottom lip.
"Someone is watching over him?" asked Lucian.
"Yes." The healer's eyes drifted from Lucian to Eldor and back again. "He is never left alone. One of my apprentices is sitting with him even now."
Lucian relaxed a fraction. At least he and the healer were of the same mind on this.
He wasn't so certain about the guard, Tsenor. He thought he believed his, Lucian's, version of what had happened, but it was true that he hadn't witnessed the attack in person. When Tsenor had arrived on the scene, both Eldor and the Guild Master had been on the floor, senseless. Lucian and Ben had been the only two standing.
Given the circumstances, and Eldor's seniority, the guard had said it would be best if he waited to speak to the Guild Master before taking any further action against Eldor. Lucian could understand that, even though he resented the delay. No-one had expected it would take so long.
Where was Ben? He needed him to bear witness. The longer Eldor stayed at large, embedding himself in the leadership role, the more risk he posed, to Lucian as well as Midor.
Lucian knew from what Ben had told him that time moved far more rapidly on Earth, but that should work in his favour. A day there, an hour or so here. How much longer before Ben returned? Surely, he could have taken the Rider to a hospital and got him treated by now?
He still couldn't understand why Ben thought taking the Rider to a hospital would help. He gave an involuntary shudder. Perhaps they had improved by Ben's time, no longer the houses of death as they had been known when he was on Earth. He remembered with horror the one and only occasion he had gone to a London hospital, intending to visit a friend who'd broken his leg in a carriage accident. The smell of urine and rotting flesh, dried blood and excrement from the neighboring wards had filled the air, making him gag. He had practically run from the building. Not to mention the lice he had collected along the way.
Lucian felt queasy just remembering. Surely things would have improved in two centuries. Wouldn't they?
He struggled for self control. Fretting wasn't going to bring Ben back any sooner. Perhaps the trip to the hospital had taken longer than expected. Maybe Ben was waiting to see how the Rider progressed before returning. Even if the treatment was successful, they might have to wait some time before the Rider was fit to travel back to Rhillion.
There were probably all sorts of valid reasons for the delay.
Lucian refused to allow himself to consider the most frightening, that Ben and the Rider had never reached Earth at all, that they were trapped somewhere between the worlds.
YOU ARE READING
The Mirror Mage
FantasyLord Lucian Wentworth disappeared in 1819. Was he escaping a loveless marriage or was it something more sinister? No one believes the valet's story that his master vanished into an antique mirror. Not until unemployed actor, Ben Lucas, meets the sam...