This was bad. Was he keeping me immobile so that he could remove the mark? Perhaps he intended to extract my energy for some spell. Ronan had told me once that wizards could take the health of other wizards to lengthen their own life span. Such magic was forbidden, but Ronan performed an incantation every morning to protect himself from that sort of pilfering anyway. Wizarding law was a fluid thing at best, often ignored by the powerful and used to punish less influential wizards.
I couldn’t recall any incantations to help me escape from whatever magic bound me to the chair. I began sifting through spells filed away in my memory for any bit of help they might offer.
I was so intently reading, I didn’t know Ronan had come into the room until he spoke. “What is it you require, my lord?”
My breath caught. Mage Wolfson must know what Ronan had done or he wouldn’t have summoned us both. He would question Ronan and when he lied, Mage Wolfson would let the curtains fall and reveal me as evidence.
A wave of nausea ran through me. What would the wizard do to him, to me?
“Ronan Clarke,” Mage Wolfson’s tone was unruffled, “you’ve reached the highest levels of magic quickly and completely. Brilliantly, I would say.” A pause, “However, you’ve failed tomaster a few lessons, and I would be remiss if I didn’t teach them to you.”
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.” Surprise tinged Ronan’s voice but also confidence. I could picture him standing in front of Mage Wolfson’s desk, shoulders back, head held high. “Which lessons have I failed? I will remedy the situation immediately.”
I shut my eyes. Mage Wolfson’s next words would be: Don’t give magic to serving girls.
Instead, he said, “When you work for nobility, they will at times give you assignments you don’t approve of. I told the class this morning that the village of Colsbury was harboring renegade leaders. Your solution to handle the insurrection involved dispatching a few spies to the village.”
“Yes,” Ronan said. “Spies could not only ferret out the leaders, they could also learn information about the organization.”
What did any of this have to do with me?
Mage Wolfson huffed his disagreement. “Your solution wouldn’t send a message to those who would ally themselves against the king. And as he’s given me permission to deal with the situation however I see fit, I’m assigning you and Charles to go on horseback to an outlook above Colsbury. When you arrive, you’re to burn down the village. Between the two of you, you should have enough fire to encompass the homes and prevent the escape of the renegades and those who harbored them.”
I heard the words and yet a part of me couldn’t believe Mage Wolfson had spoken them. The wizard wouldn’t ask Ronan to do such a thing. Innocent people lived in that village—women and children who ought to be protected by the king, not slaughtered by his wizards.
“You were right,” Ronan said slowly. “This is a lesson I will fail. I cannot carry out that request.”
“Is this how you would answer your lord?” Mage Wolfson’s calm tone turned sharp. “Let me remind you that wizards can’t create gold or food. We work for nobles because they are wealthy enough to pay us handsomely. Would you refuse your lord his services in war as well?”
“I would help his troops fight to the best of their ability.”
“And what if his troops burned down the village?”
“Then the act would trouble their souls, not mine.”
The sound of a chair pushing away from the desk told me that Mage Wolfson had stood. “The first lesson you’ve failed to learn is that a conscience is a burden you can ill afford. It will keep you from doing the things you must.”
“I apologize for my shortcomings.” Ronan’s voice was politely deferential. “Again, I must fail.”
“Do you think you have a choice in the matter? If I’ve not disillusioned you from that notion, I will do so now.” The curtain slid back toward the wall like a snake returning to its home.
Ronan caught sight of me, and his eyes widened with shock. He understood and now so did I. I wasn’t here because the wizard had discovered our secrets. I was here as leverage.
Mage Wolfson snapped his fingers, and I lifted out of the chair and floated upward until I hung a few feet from the ceiling. As soon as I left the chair, feeling rushed into my limbs. I was no longer frozen, but I was still powerless, suspended like a hovering moth.
Ronan stepped toward me, completely pale. “Let her go.”
Mage Wolfson flipped me onto my stomach, and I traveled, floating helplessly across the room. I didn’t scream. I intended to be braver than that. Instead, I thrashed in an attempt to escape the wizard’s grip. Levitating things was more difficult when they moved. As I passed the curtains, I grabbed hold of them. They ripped from the wall.
“None of that.” With another snap of the wizard’s fingers, the curtain ties lifted from the ground and wound around my body, pinning my arms to my side.
“Let her go,” Ronan said again, pleading this time.
“Her fate is entirely in your hands.”
It wasn’t. It was in the wizard’s, and I hated him for doing this. I glided toward the wolfhound, something the animal noticed at once. His fur bristled and he growled. I drifted closer. He sprang to his feet and lunged at me, barking furiously. He couldn’t reach me. Not yet. He strained at his leash, claws scraping the floor, like knives being sharpened.
I bit my lip to keep from screaming.