The Tiger's Eye (Book 1 of the Angus the Mage Series)

What’s in the future will wait for them if they live to make it that far. And I was a good soldier—still am, technically. Everyone who forms a banner is subject to emergency muster in times of war. Fortunately, the kingdom hasn’t been at war for a long time. Except with the fishmen, of course, but that’s a predictable arrangement.”

  “How do you feel about picking up the pace a little bit?” Giorge asked Angus. “Think you can manage a brisk walk?”

  Angus nodded, clicked his tongue, and flicked the reins to urge his horse to speed up a bit. When Hobart and Giorge caught up with him and matched his pace, Giorge said, “You’ve ridden a horse before.”

  Have I? Angus wondered, not knowing the answer. He shrugged. “It felt like it was the thing to do,” he hedged. “I have seen people ride before, you know, even if I haven’t done it.”

  “Well,” Hobart said, “be careful. Max is a young one; he’s a bit edgy.”

  “All right,” Angus said. “Why did you leave the army?”

  Hobart shrugged. “The smell,” he said. “It was nauseating. Even at a distance I could barely tolerate it, and the thought of entering that cursed swamp was almost too much for me to deal with. But I tried, just to make sure. I barely got to the edge before I was wheezing and sneezing uncontrollably. The medic told me about one in ten reacted that way, and no one ever got over it. There’s something in the air, there; a taint that enters the lungs and stays there. It took weeks for me to fully recover from it, and by that time, I had already made up my mind. I left the army and formed a banner.”

  “I understand everything except what a banner is,” Angus said. “Only those who have ten years of experience in the army can have one, right?”

  Hobart nodded. “You have three choices at the ten year mark. Continue on in The Borderlands, form a banner, or cut ties with the army altogether. I formed The Banner of the Wounded Hand. I called it that on account of a friend of mine, Windhal. He and I were going to form a banner together, but in the last raid of the year, one of the fishmen latched onto his hand and mangled it. It was his sword arm, and that was the end of it for him. But when I registered my banner, I named it after him and put him down as an honorary member. That was six years ago, and I haven’t seen him since. No one has, I suppose; he went into The Borderlands with one of the patrols, and they never came back out. He still might be in there, but…” he shrugged. “That’s the life of a soldier in The Borderlands. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I could have gone with them, but there’s no sense in stirring up that pot.” He fell silent, and the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves punctuated his somber posture.

  Giorge leaned over conspiratorially and half-whispered, “He does that a lot, you know. Talks and talks and talks, but doesn’t say what you want to hear.”

  Hobart glared at him, but said nothing.

  Giorge chuckled and said, his voice mildly disinterested, “A banner is a registered adventure group subject to the king’s command in times of peril. The king may, upon such occasions, require the service of those who are members of that banner to help defend the kingdom, and the leader of that banner to raise a militia and take charge of it. In return for the services the founder of the banner has given to the kingdom, the members of the banner shall have free passage anywhere in the kingdom and the lands of King Tyr’s allies. Furthermore, the king shall assign a minimal tax on all goods procured through the activities of the banner, provided such activities fall within the purview of legally sanctioned plundering or salvage. If such gains are not legally sanctioned, the tax will be the confiscation of all goods procured illegally and the banner—with all its privileges—shall be disbanded and its members prosecuted, where appropriate.”

  Angus frowned and said, “That sounds like an edict.”

  “King Tyr prefers to call them decrees,” Giorge said, off-handedly. “But it doesn’t really matter. It’s a legally binding agreement, and if you choose to join Hobart’s banner with us, you’ll be subject to it just like we are. Isn’t that right, Hobart?”

  “Yes,” Hobart agreed, “and more. It is not a decision to be made lightly, Angus. Nor is the decision to offer you membership. If I had not seen the effects of your spell blinding Giorge, and that explosive display last night, I would not be offering it. But you are clearly a far more capable wizard than Teffles even claimed to be, and such skill is always welcome in a banner.”

  “I see,” Angus said. “Are you sure I measure up to your standards? After all, you have only seen the effects of two of my spells, and it is entirely possible that they are the only two of any consequence I may possess.”

  “Not from what Billigan said,” Giorge grinned, his eyes and lips tinged with greed. “He saw quite a few scrolls in your possession—a rather valuable little treasure, I should think.”

  Angus scowled at him and said, “Oh? Do you think they are unguarded?”

  “Not at all,” Giorge said, shrugging. “But it is of little consequence if you join us. I never pilfer from a friend.” He grinned. “Well, almost never.”

  “Before I make any decision,” Angus said, slowing his horse. “I’d like to know what happened to Teffles.”

  “All right,” Hobart said. “But tonight, after we make camp. We need to make better time than this. How about it, Angus? Ready to spur your steed to a trot?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’ll do it anyway.”

  “Good!” Hobart said, urging his horse forward. “There are only a few hours of light left.”

  2

  Early in the evening Hobart reined in his horse at the top of a hill and waited for the others to join him. “We’ll stop there for the night,” he said, pointing at a caravan rest stop nestled among a small grove of pine trees east of the road. “There may be rain, and the trees will provide us with some protection.”

  One of Ortis shielded his eyes and squinted while another held back and the third rode forward at an easy pace. “There are others there,” he said. “It looks like a family with an oxcart.”

  “Not much of a threat,” Giorge said. “Or opportunity,” he muttered.

  Angus tilted his head and half-smiled. “Oh?” he said. “I thought families took their treasure with them when they traveled.”

  “That’s right!” Giorge brightened.

  “Of course,” Angus continued. “They generally have very little of it.”

  “Never mind that,” Hobart scowled. “They’re off limits, Giorge. You know the rules.”

  Giorge sighed. “No stealing while traveling under the banner’s protection,” he said, his voice heavy. “How about for practice?” he offered. “I won’t keep anything.”

  Hobart shook his head. “No,” he said. “They’ll know it was one of us.”

  “Fine,” Giorge said, spurring his horse forward at a trot. The other two Ortises followed after him at a slower pace.

  Hobart lingered and turned to Angus. “Ortis will set up camp and gather firewood. We’ll have time to talk about him,” Hobart added, gesturing at Teffles’ body as they went by.

  “Was he with you long?” Angus asked.

  “Less than two days,” Hobart said. “We stopped at Wyrmwood to find a replacement for Ribaldo. Now, he was a wizard. I’ll tell you about him sometime if you stay with us. I knew him when I was still in Tyr’s army, and when I started my banner, he joined me.”

  “Why did you have to replace him?” Angus asked as they nudged their horses forward at a slow, steady walk.

  “He died in his sleep,” Hobart said. “It was a peaceful sort of death, not at all the kind I want to have. Give me mine with my sword in my hand and blood on my boots! But he was old, so I suppose he didn’t mind much.”

  Angus half-smiled.

  “Well, we were without a wizard for a few weeks, mainly because we weren’t near enough to a city to find one. We were hunting a pack of wolves tormenting the villagers north of Wyrmwood. When word came to us that wolves were killing a lot of livestock, we felt it was our duty
to help them. That duty didn’t change when Ribaldo died, so we did what he would have wanted us to do. We used him as bait.”

  “What?” Angus gasped, feeling his eyebrows involuntarily dip under his robe’s hood. “You used your friend’s body as bait?”

  Hobart nodded. “Yes. He was a follower of Galmar. They view the body as merely a vessel for the spirit, and when it’s no longer useful, they don’t care what happens to it. They have a pit in their temples where they throw dead bodies to the rats.” Hobart shook his head. “‘Part of the natural cycle,’ Ribaldo always said. So, we left his body for the wolves to find.”

  “That must have been difficult,” Angus said.

  Hobart laughed, a robust, almost contagious rumble. “I did worse things when I was a soldier,” he said. “Besides, it worked. The wolves were drawn in to him, and we were waiting. Ortis killed most of them with his bows. He rarely misses.”

  “What is he?” Angus asked.

  Hobart looked askance and said, “You’ll have to ask him about that. He’ll be expecting it, especially if you join our banner.”

  “I’ll do that,” Angus said. They were nearing the camp site, and he decided to return to the original topic. “And Teffles?”

  “We thought we killed all the wolves,” Hobart said. “But some of them must have been separated from the main pack. They followed us.”

  “Into Wyrmwood?” Angus challenged. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well,” Hobart hedged, “not quite that far. But when we left Wyrmwood, we headed back north and camped at the same place we had the night before arriving at Wyrmwood. The wolves were waiting for us. They attacked while we were sleeping.”

  “Didn’t you post a guard?” Angus asked, puzzled.

  “Of course,” Hobart said. “But we were near enough to Wyrmwood not to be overly concerned. There aren’t many things that will challenge that town, and with the patrols, there didn’t seem too much to worry about. So we put Teffles on watch.”

  “Wasn’t that risky?” Angus asked as they rode up to where the others had tied their horses to a long horizontal pole at the edge of the camp near the trees and grass.

  Hobart nodded and said, “It was a test. Ortis was going to startle him later that night to find out how he handled himself. The wolves got there first.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning to test me,” Angus demanded. “I tend to be a light sleeper with a quick response.”

  Hobart chuckled. “There’s no need to test you, Angus. Giorge already did. It wasn’t intended to be a test, mind you; he was acting on his own in Wyrmwood. As for that work crew’s tent, you caught him reconnoitering. He was not at all pleased about that, by the way. He thinks he moves like a spider on silk.”

  Angus smiled. “Not quite,” he said, dismounting. He winced, wobbled, and leaned against the colt’s side to steady himself. His inner thighs were half-numb, and his rear end was painfully stiff. After a few seconds, he hobbled up to the post and wrapped the reins around it. He glanced at Hobart’s knot and mimicked it. It was a loose knot, one that would unravel when pulled fiercely. Max nuzzled up to the pole, nearly knocking him over.

  Hobart chuckled. “You’ll get used to riding soon enough,” he said. “You’ll be sore for a few days until then.”

  Like my feet? Angus thought, remembering the cracked and bloodied calluses he’d gotten during those first few days of walking. “You said he ran the wrong way,” he said.

  “I did?”

  “Yes,” Angus said. “When we first met.”

  “Oh,” Hobart shrugged, removing a bag from his saddle and bringing it up to his horse’s head. “There you are, Leslie,” he said, opening the bag. As the large mare stuck her muzzle in and began chewing, he turned back to Angus. “That’s mostly true,” he said. “He did run, but that was after he shouted warning. I’ll give him that much credit. His loud, girlish shriek woke all of us up. A good thing, too; the wolves were already at the edge of our camp and might have gotten all of us if it weren’t for him. But he should have seen them long before he did, and if he had, he might not have died.”

  “Didn’t he try to cast a spell?”

  “Who knows?” Hobart said. “All he did was stand there and wave his arms about as the wolves rushed him. Then he ran….” Hobart lowered the saddlebag, and nodded to Angus. “There’s a feedbag on your saddle. Do you want to give it to him?”

  Angus shook his head. “It looks like you know what you’re doing, and I need to take care of something before it gets dark.”

  Hobart laughed. “It’s just as easy to relive yourself in the dark as it is in the daylight.”

  “It’s not that,” Angus said. “Reconnoitering.”

  “Ortis will let us know if there’s anything to worry about,” Hobart said.

  “Not that kind of reconnoitering,” Angus said. “I need to find the right place to sleep.”

  Hobart eased the half-empty bag from Leslie’s muzzle and patted her neck before he strapped it back to the saddle. “We’ll leave them saddled for now,” he said. “I want to meet that family, first.” He moved to Angus’s saddle and unstrapped one of the bags. “Ortis was the first to act,” he continued. “He shot arrows at the wolves, hitting two of them before I had my sword in hand. He was shooting his next volley when Teffles ran into the arrow’s path. There was nothing Ortis could do about it. The arrow had already been fired. We tried to help him, but the wolves delayed us too long.”

  “Why didn’t you leave his body in Wyrmwood?” Angus asked.

  “We would have,” Hobart admitted, “but one of his twenty-three conditions he had for joining my banner was that his body would be delivered to the Temple of Muff if he died. The nearest one is in Hellsbreath. We stopped in Wyrmwood three days ago to update the banner’s roster and look for another replacement. That’s when Giorge decided to find out what you could do.”

  Angus nodded. “All right,” he said. “I need to take a look around now.”

  “No need,” Ortis said as he led a horse to the pole and tied it up. “These caravan stops are always built in the defensible positions.”

  Angus sighed. How could they understand that what he wanted to find was the optimal spot for casting his spells? How could he explain that the distribution of the magical threads varied greatly, and that there were dead zones, places where certain types of magic could not be cast? “That’s not what I’m looking for,” he said.

  “Well, the stew will be ready in a few minutes,” Ortis said. “I hope you like rabbit.”

  Angus shrugged. “I’m rapidly learning to tolerate a wide variety of foods,” he said as he turned away from them and drew the threads of magic into his awareness. He walked around the camp in a looping spiral that eventually brought him to the fireplace near the center of the campsite. No matter where he was within the caravan stop, there was ample access to the magic he needed. He had begun to let the magic slide away when something nearby drew his attention. It was a cluster of threads wrapped tightly together in an unnatural pattern. He walked up to it and let the magic fade to the background enough for him to see its mundane surroundings. He was only mildly surprised to find the source of the magic was Teffles’ corpse.

  Perhaps they underestimated him? Angus wondered.

  “Don’t worry, Angus,” Giorge said as he came up next to him. “Ortis won’t shoot any arrows through you. You move too quickly.”

  “That’s not it,” Angus said. “I was just wondering what happened to his spells.”

  “His spells?” Giorge frowned. “They died with him, didn’t they?”

  “Doubtful,” Angus said. “Did he have any scrolls with him?”

  “No,” Giorge said. “All we found on him was a little book none of us could read. You’re welcome to it, if you decide to join us.”

  “And that?” Angus said, pointing at the bulge of Teffles bent elbow.

  “You want the corpse?” Giorge asked, his voice lilting. He raised eyebrows raised a
nd his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Not the corpse,” Angus said. “What’s on it.”

  “On it?” Giorge mused. “You like that robe? Really? I think it’s rather gauche, myself. Way too many colors for my tastes.”

  “No,” Angus said, bending down. “Not the robe, the magic.” He reached to unwrap the corpse, but Giorge put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t,” he said. “At least not here. He’s been dead a few days, remember? That robe is the only thing keeping the scent of decay from agitating the horses. Besides,” he grinned, “it would be impolite to have a naked corpse lying around. What would our neighbors think?”

  “Tomorrow, then,” Angus said. “By the stream.”

  “What do you think is there?” Giorge asked. “I did a pretty good job of searching him before we wrapped him up.”

  Angus smiled. “Did you check his sleeves?”

  “Sure,” Giorge said, folding his arms and scowling. “Why? Do you think I missed something?”

  Anger? Pride? Angus tilted his head up to half-smile at Giorge. “There are ways to conceal items from casual observation.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t casual,” Giorge protested. “I was quite thorough, I assure you.”

  “Can you see magic?” Angus asked.

  Giorge frowned for a moment, and then a slow smile eased into place. “You say there’s magic there?”

  Angus nodded.

  “How could I have missed that?” Giorge said, kneeling beside him and reaching for the robe. This time, Angus held his hand out to stop him.

  “Giorge,” he said. “You didn’t find it the first time, what makes you think you will this time?”

  Giorge grinned. “I didn’t know it was there until now. It’s always easier to find something when you know what you’re looking for.”

  Angus chuckled. “And what is it you’re looking for?”

  “Why—” Giorge frowned. “You said—” He shook his head. “Right. I still don’t know what it is. But I do know that it is there.”

  “Unless I’m lying,” Angus said.

  “You’re not,” Giorge said, his voice confident and dismissive. “You’ve seen something. You can describe it to me.”

  “I could,” Angus admitted. “But it wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Why not?” Giorge demanded.

  Angus sighed. “All right, Giorge. It’s in a magically concealed compartment in his robe’s sleeve. Unless you know the precise place to look for the opening and have the ability to release the knot securing it in place, you will never find it.”

  “And you can?”

  Angus nodded. “Of course. I am, after all, a competent wizard.”

  “Do you want it?” Giorge asked.

  “Perhaps,” Angus said. “It may be quite useful to us, or it could be very dangerous. I won’t know which until I open the compartment.”

  “Well,” Giorge hedged, “if you join Hobart’s banner, I am sure you can negotiate with him. He’s quite reasonable, you know. But you’re right; it will have to wait until tomorrow.” He