âThey say that true freedom is a distinctively human characteristic, but that is false. Not even humans are free. No one is.â
Lenore had to agree with her friend. This hadnât been what these people were like at all, and she couldnât help but feel a wave of relief when she noted that even the ones that had attacked Cy were not dead. He was not known for being the most merciful manârumors placed him as a barely restrained force of nature on a battlefield, though at least he wasnât as bad as his father, the previous lord Nishant. There were those that still lived in terror of that man, though he was dead now, as she understood it. But whatever his reasons, heâd let all of these people keep their livesâprobably because he knew them.
Their behavior was certainly strange, though, and when Cally directed her attention to what looked like a needle with thread attached, Lenoreâs eyebrows drew closer together, and she murmured something inaudible, checking over Ella, the woman closest to her. When she found the same, lodged in the back of her neck, Lenore pulled it out, soothing the hurt with a flicker of magic, shaking her head with an expression of vague discomfort on her face. She could not feel fear anymore, but she realized distantly that if she could, this might have produced a little trickle of it. To manage this kind of spell on more than one person, and so perfectly⊠she bit down hard on her lip, shaking her head again and setting about removing all the needles with utmost care, forgetting the original question entirely.
That wasnât exactly unusual for Lenore, who was well-reputed to be strange. Fortunately, despite not being a mage himself, Cyril had always been interested in magic and knew a great deal about it. So he took it upon himself to explain to the princess. âPlease be careful with that needle, Your Highness. It is still dangerous, even outside the flesh.â He held an armored hand out, palm-up, so that she would hand it over to him. He, after all, was wearing armor, and she was not. Though obviously he would have taken it even were his hands bareâany amount of danger, however small, was to be mitigated if he was capable, and he certainly was. Magic, after all, had no grip on him, though only perhaps three people in the world knew that, and the princess was not one of them.
âThe needle is evidence of a particular spell. The object is imbued with the magical energy of the caster, and then placed at the base of the victimâs neck, or spine, or somewhere of similar importance. It allows for control of the person, like a puppet. It is very dark magic, and its practice is forbidden in the Academy and similar institutions of learning. Even the Dorthoni do not permit their mages to practice it.â He did indeed not believe that the Dorthoni were responsible. This was far too indirect for a kingdom that prided itself on its straightforwardness. And even if King Anselm was more subtle and clever than any of his ancestors, he did not have the mages for this kind of spell. It required power far beyond the norm.
His eyes passed to Lenore, who was busy extracting needles, healing wounds, and neutralizing the spells on them. She would be building an understanding of the magical signature involved, he knew, probably for a tracking spell at a scrying mirror later. It was starting to wear on her, considering how much magic she had likely already expended that day. Even mages as strong as herself or Lord Uisnech were still people, and they still had their limits. They were better than most at pushing past them, but he suspected her summoning still made her weary, even though a week had passed. The aftereffects of those had been known to last months, in some documented cases.
Still she pushed on, and he had to admire her strength of will for that. Likewise it was with the Princess. Despite the difficulty they had faced, where another might have turned away from this in fear or distress, they remained first and foremost concerned with others. He suspected they did not realize just how rare this trait they shared really was. The queen had it, but hers had been tempered by years of needing to act in the way that best befit the entire kingdom.
When at last she appeared to be done, Lenore made her way back over to them. âIt was multiple casters,â she said calmly, carefully wrapping the now mostly-harmless needles in a piece of fabric, taking the one from them and doing the same. âIt will make them very difficult to track, but if I can get Master Emâs help and some of Sephirielâs⊠we might be able to figure out who is responsible for this.â Her lips pressed together in a thin line. Dark magic was not to be trifled with, and for good reason. Its effects on the caster were always corrupting, no matter the intentions of the one using it. âWe should get them somewhere they can rest. They wonât remember anything, but they should be all right if they sleep off the rest.â
Their behavior was certainly strange, though, and when Cally directed her attention to what looked like a needle with thread attached, Lenoreâs eyebrows drew closer together, and she murmured something inaudible, checking over Ella, the woman closest to her. When she found the same, lodged in the back of her neck, Lenore pulled it out, soothing the hurt with a flicker of magic, shaking her head with an expression of vague discomfort on her face. She could not feel fear anymore, but she realized distantly that if she could, this might have produced a little trickle of it. To manage this kind of spell on more than one person, and so perfectly⊠she bit down hard on her lip, shaking her head again and setting about removing all the needles with utmost care, forgetting the original question entirely.
That wasnât exactly unusual for Lenore, who was well-reputed to be strange. Fortunately, despite not being a mage himself, Cyril had always been interested in magic and knew a great deal about it. So he took it upon himself to explain to the princess. âPlease be careful with that needle, Your Highness. It is still dangerous, even outside the flesh.â He held an armored hand out, palm-up, so that she would hand it over to him. He, after all, was wearing armor, and she was not. Though obviously he would have taken it even were his hands bareâany amount of danger, however small, was to be mitigated if he was capable, and he certainly was. Magic, after all, had no grip on him, though only perhaps three people in the world knew that, and the princess was not one of them.
âThe needle is evidence of a particular spell. The object is imbued with the magical energy of the caster, and then placed at the base of the victimâs neck, or spine, or somewhere of similar importance. It allows for control of the person, like a puppet. It is very dark magic, and its practice is forbidden in the Academy and similar institutions of learning. Even the Dorthoni do not permit their mages to practice it.â He did indeed not believe that the Dorthoni were responsible. This was far too indirect for a kingdom that prided itself on its straightforwardness. And even if King Anselm was more subtle and clever than any of his ancestors, he did not have the mages for this kind of spell. It required power far beyond the norm.
His eyes passed to Lenore, who was busy extracting needles, healing wounds, and neutralizing the spells on them. She would be building an understanding of the magical signature involved, he knew, probably for a tracking spell at a scrying mirror later. It was starting to wear on her, considering how much magic she had likely already expended that day. Even mages as strong as herself or Lord Uisnech were still people, and they still had their limits. They were better than most at pushing past them, but he suspected her summoning still made her weary, even though a week had passed. The aftereffects of those had been known to last months, in some documented cases.
Still she pushed on, and he had to admire her strength of will for that. Likewise it was with the Princess. Despite the difficulty they had faced, where another might have turned away from this in fear or distress, they remained first and foremost concerned with others. He suspected they did not realize just how rare this trait they shared really was. The queen had it, but hers had been tempered by years of needing to act in the way that best befit the entire kingdom.
When at last she appeared to be done, Lenore made her way back over to them. âIt was multiple casters,â she said calmly, carefully wrapping the now mostly-harmless needles in a piece of fabric, taking the one from them and doing the same. âIt will make them very difficult to track, but if I can get Master Emâs help and some of Sephirielâs⊠we might be able to figure out who is responsible for this.â Her lips pressed together in a thin line. Dark magic was not to be trifled with, and for good reason. Its effects on the caster were always corrupting, no matter the intentions of the one using it. âWe should get them somewhere they can rest. They wonât remember anything, but they should be all right if they sleep off the rest.â