A Blight of Mages by Karen Miller

Author:Karen Miller [Miller, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: FIC009020
ISBN: 9780748119424
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2011-08-03T23:00:00+00:00

“Morgan… where have you been, boy? I was calling. A disobedient son, you are, not to come at once.”

Speechless, Morgan fumbled for his father’s wasted hand. He’d only been away from the mansion a matter of days, yet his father looked to have aged thirty years. Scabbed, spittled and shrunken, he huddled beneath his blankets like a corpse.

“I’m here, my lord. What’s this nonsense now?”

Wheezing, his father hawked and rattled the muck in his throat. “Nonsense? I’ll give you nonsense. Answer me. Where have you been?”

“Taking a little time with the Garricks, my lord. There was an invitation, do you recall?”

“An invitation,” his father mumbled. “Yes… yes…”

Pother Ranmer stepped to the bed. “Don’t be alarmed, Councillor. His lordship’s weak, and tires swiftly.”

“I have eyes, man. I can see that.”

“But in truth, sir,” Ranmer added, “your father is much improved. Seeing you has strengthened him. You should take heart from that.”

Improved? Strengthened? Surely Ranmer had lost his wits. “How do you explain this marked collapse in so short a time?”

“I’m sorry,” the pother said with care. “I thought you understood that his lordship’s condition is uncertain.”

He looked up, feeling savage. “There’s uncertain and then there’s this. Do you tell me his deterioration is natural?”

“Councillor… death is a natural thing,” Ranmer said gently. “Painful, but natural.”

Not always. Venette’s angry warning sounded in his memory.

“Did you honestly think Sallis wouldn’t punish you for that challenge?”

Sallis Arkley had connections, men and women who were in his debt or who looked to perform a service in the hope of future advancement. And there were ways other than magic to harm another mage.

Could Ranmer be the cause of Father’s falling away? No-one else is preparing his pills and possets.

Standing, Morgan hustled Ranmer until the pother was backed into the corner furthest from the bed. “I am not convinced that any of this is natural.”

“Sir,” the pother said, glaring. “Do you think to blame me for his lordship’s collapse?”

“Can you tell me where else I should look?”

“Be warned, Councillor Danfey,” Ranmer said, frigid with fury. “Accuse me of incompetence—or worse yet, some deliberate malfeasance—and I will lodge a formal complaint with the Council. You have neither grounds nor proof to question my reputation. Furthermore, such an attack on my good name and competence will ensure that not only will I never set foot here again, you will struggle to find any pother prepared to take such a risk.”

Shaken, Morgan retreated. Was he wrong? Did his father’s collapse have nothing to do with Sallis Arkley? Was he letting his rage at the man, his frustrations over Maris Garrick, his fear for his father, affect his judgement? Possibly. And if Ranmer were indeed blameless, to lose his skills now would be a disaster.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said hoarsely. “I am not quite myself.”

Ranmer looked at him. “No,” he said at last, unbending. “Which is understandable. Councillor, do not let dismay overturn reason. Lord Danfey has rallied. And he’ll gather even more strength from your continued presence, I’m sure. Assuming you will be here some goodly time?”

“Yes.

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