Chapter 2 - Reluctant Escort

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Lady Griflet's voice rang shrill and furious in Syphis' ears, her hand clutching the empty glass whose contents she had just tossed in his face. "You could've been killed!"

Syphis scowled at her, coughing and spluttering, water dripping from his hair and running under his collar. His hands and feet tingled as the residual traces of magical backlash faded. The air in his lungs burned and he wouldn't have been surprised to have found smoke pouring out of his ears. He reached up to push his wet bangs out of his eyes and rose with a grimace, grateful that his legs would hold him. "Impressive reaction, Lady," he managed to rasp.

"Serves you right for pushing it so far!" she snapped, her fright dissolving into anger.

An icy silence passed as the two glared at each other. Syphis was the first to snort and look away. "So what now, Lady? You've got me collared and leashed, what's next?"

Lady Griflet took a deep breath to calm herself. She glanced at the bed, but could see nothing more to do for her husband. "Let's go find my son." She shot Syphis a look that would have blistered stone before turning to the door. "Don't try anything like that again. I can't promise you that the Binding won't kill you if you do."

"Comforting thought," Syphis muttered, limping slightly as he hurried after her.

Their footsteps echoed eerily down the empty halls. Only once did Syphis catch a glimpse of another living soul, and that a harried maid with an armful of towels before she turned a corner and disappeared. The torches cast but an uncertain light along the walls; every now and then nothing remained but a burnt stump. Syphis said nothing, but the implications were clear. Rumors of House Griflet sending away its servants and retainers when the plague worsened had traversed the lower sections of Lokryn, and now all around him Syphis could see the results of a great House running on a skeleton staff. No wonder he had gained entrance with so little trouble.

His skin crawled, as though invisible spiders tickled him with their phantom touch. Syphis gritted his teeth and refused to give into the impulse to scratch. It would pass in a few hours. As would the faint, high-pitched ringing in his ears. All signs of the Binding, he knew.

Studying Lady Griflet through narrowed eyes, Syphis had to own himself both impressed and surprised. Impressed because her spellwork was impeccable; surprised because the Binding, contrary to his expectations of looming oppression, sat lightly on his consciousness. His shields were once again in place, and he still had access to his crystal. If not for the tickling and ringing, in fact, he felt no different than before.

Syphis clenched his hands into fists at his side. It was an illusion of course, this feeling of freedom. After the Lady had first placed the Binding, after the spell had settled on his mind with a touch as light as cobwebs in the dark, he had dared to probe its limits. Still shaking from the teeth-grinding ordeal of letting down all his shields and more and more perplexed by the autonomy the Binding allowed, he had recklessly tried to break its hold, had tried to hurl the power of his crystal at Lady Griflet.

He winced at the memory. With the speed of a steel trap snapping shut, the Binding had descended on his mind, bottling his magic back onto himself. With no other outlet, his magic had ripped painfully through his own body, despite his panicked attempt to disperse it. The lesson was clear; he was free only insofar as he obeyed the strictures of her spell.

Syphis shook his head and came back to the present with a start. Lady Griflet had led him to a different wing of the manor, stopping outside a solid oaken door. Syphis eyed the two guards who snapped to attention at their approach, their eyes widening at Syphis' presence. Not even Lord Griflet's sick room boasted door guards, and Syphis wondered what lay behind the doors to warrant such security. Lady Griflet pushed open the doors.

A sea of books greeted Syphis' curious gaze. Shelves upon shelves lined the dim interior, packed with volumes of all shapes and sizes. A musty smell permeated the air and dust motes tickled his nose. Syphis jumped as the door clicked shut behind him. His eyes adjusted until he could make out the vague outlines of a few scattered tables and chairs. He hastened to follow the Lady's unerring steps as she headed for a faint glow emanating from behind the shelves. The next turn revealed the source of the light.

A young man, hardly more than a boy, sat hunched over an old, yellow text, his brow furrowed with concentration as his green-flecked hazel eyes rapidly scanned the page. The uncertain light cast by the lone candle revealed other tomes scattered on and around the table, some arranged in neat piles but most lying haphazardly around his chair.

Lady Griflet paused at the end of the last shelf, her eyes lingering sadly on her son's studious features. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, she lightly brushed Syphis' arm, signalling for him to wait while she approached the table.

It was not until the Lady was within a few steps of him that Jaeron Griflet looked up and noticed her presense, so absorbed was he in the text before him. With a gasp, he rose to his feet, a startled expression on his face, his chair screeching against the floorboards as he pushed it back.

"Mother! I didn't hear... did you... I mean, is father...?" His voice trailed off when she shook her head, and he sank back into his seat, his shoulders slumped.

Lady Griflet's heart ached at his disappointment, and she cast around for some way to distract him from his thoughts. "How are your studies, my son?"

Jaeron waved a frustrated hand at the books around him, a disgusted expression on his face. "Nothing. Nothing concrete anyway. A sentence here and there, a couple of vague, untried theories that might be helpful, but..." He frowned and looked up into his mother's eyes. "Maybe," he continued, his voice slow and deliberate, "if I could analyze the disease up close, if I could examine the sick..."

"No!" A tense pause, then, "I'm sorry, Jaeron. I didn't mean to sound so sharp. But it's too much of a risk. Other healers have died; you know that."

"I know it," he snapped, his voice suddenly bitter. "Others have died doing their duty, trying to help the sick, while I... I sit here safe and sound, flipping through these all-but-useless books, trying to convince myself that I'm helping, that somehow, I might find the answer, knowing that all the while, our people are suffering and dying and there is nothing - nothing! - I can do for them!" His hand clenched into a fist atop the pages of his book. "All my life, you and father have taught me to take care of our people, to put my responsibility to them above thoughts of my own self-gain. And now, when they're at their greatest need, you tell me to do nothing? How long will you keep me caged here like a prisoner?"

"Jaeron..." Lady Griflet shuddered at the outburst and looked away, unable to bear the animosity in her son's eyes. "Please..." Her voice broke and she stopped, powerless to go on. Watching from the shadows, Syphis put two and two together. His eyes flicked back to the door and the guards on the other side. Not there to protect, he realized, but to prevent escape.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Jaeron broke the strained silence, his voice drained and his anger gone. He ran his fingers through his wavy brown curls, then pressed the base of his palms to his eyes. "I know you're doing what you think is best. But I'm fifteen now. I want to help."

"You can. You will." Jaeron's head lifted at her words, his eyes hopeful.

Responding to Lady Griflet's beckoning gesture, Syphis came forward into the light. Jaeron shot a startled look first at him, then at his mother.

"Jaeron, I want you to meet Master Syphis Vaski. Master Vaski, my son." Jaeron frowned and gave Syphis a polite nod, a faint gleam of recognition flickering momentarily in his eyes before dying. It was enough to tell Syphis that his name was not unfamiliar to the young man, though the boy could not immediately place where he had heard it before. "Master Vaski has... agreed to give us his aid."

Jaeron studied the man before him with open curiosity, his eyes travelling from Syphis' unkempt black hair to his soft-soled boots. They took in the black jacket and matching pants, the daggers at his belt, the old scar that ran down his left cheek, and finally the hard black eyes. The man moved with easy fluidity and a quiet menace reminiscent of a stalking wolf. Jaeron turned his questioning gaze back to his mother. "His aid doing what?"

Lady Griflet took a deep breath. "I want you to go to Lokryn." Jaeron stiffened in his chair and she held up a hand to forestall his protest. "You said you want to help, and I'm telling you how."

"Lokryn?" Indignation lanced Jaeron's words. "You're sending me away?"

"Hear me out, Jaeron; I have my reasons. The first is simple." She indicated the books around them. "Lokryn University boasts one of the oldest and most extensive libraries in the Hundred Kingdoms, and some of the best magical theorists gather in its halls. I want you to continue your search for a cure there."

"Mother, I'm not a child anymore, to be pacified by a meaningless errand. I grant that there is a chance of finding the answer at the University, but it's not a task that requires my presence. I know that you've dispatched messages to the capital and the University mages are turning their library upside-down to help. What more could I do there that isn't being done already?"

"You're a healer, Jaeron. You could certainly help them narrow the search. But you're right; if that were the only reason, I could as soon send another. I do, however, have another motive for wanting you to go to the capital at this time."

Jaeron stared at his mother with a puzzled frown. His eyes widened. "The Convocation."

Lady Griflet nodded. "It meets in a month. All the Great Houses will be there." She leaned toward him to emphasize her point. "Jaeron, you know what is at stake. House Griflet must be represented."

Syphis, hovering half-forgotten to the side, bit back a curse. He had no interest in getting caught in the middle between rival Houses, but if the boy agreed to his mother's plans, there would be little hope of avoiding such a trap. He opened his mouth to protest, but the Lady, as though reading his thoughts, shot him a warning look. Syphis scowled, subsiding with ill grace.

"Well, Jaeron?"

"Mother..." Jaeron absently drummed his fingers on the desk, a distracted frown clouding his brow as he considered. Suddenly, his hand stilled, a pensive expression coming over his face. He shrugged, resigned. "If that is what you think best, Mother."

A flutter of alarm tickled Syphis' stomach. He shot the boy a startled look, wondering why he had given in so easily. Lady Griflet, however, gave a sigh of relief. "Then rest tonight, Jaeron. You will leave in the morning. I'll see to the preparations."

Syphis, staring back and forth between mother and son, gave an inward groan.

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