Free Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe by Clare Smith Page B

to
have a strong ally at his side and would have to be curbed in the magician if
he were to be of continued use.
    Thoughtfully he stood and crossed the wooden panelled
room to pour himself another goblet of wine. It was early in the day for a
second goblet but it helped him find solutions to irritating problems which
threatened to interfere with the smooth running of his kingdom. He opened the
shutters of the largest window and allowed the sunlight of a glorious noontide
to flood inside the room, making the priceless silk rugs glow in the natural
light.
    The brilliant rays fell across the black hair and dark
robe of the magician, removing his shadowy security and making him aware of the
timbre of Sarrat’s thoughts. Being in the king’s disfavour no longer caused him
the concern it once had but one had to be careful when dealing with someone who
was both powerful and paranoid.
    Standing at the casement, Sarrat took in a view of
breathtaking beauty. Green fields, lush with spring rain lay in a patchwork of
colour, interspersed with the rich brown of newly ploughed fields left fallow
until the turn of the year. The land spread like an exotic quilt into the
distance where the faintest ribbon of blue separated Leersland from Vinmore. It
was his favourite view of the kingdom, lacking the harshness of the distant
glow of red deserts or the greyness of the granite mountains which could be
seen from the southern and northern sides of his fortress.
    Each green field in his sight would hold fine horses
or fat cattle or yield crops enough to feed the population of Leersland twice
over but for all its beauty and wealth it contained one flaw, the land across
the Blue River was not part of it. The rich land of Vinmore was not his and he
was a greedy man. He closed the shutters and turned back to the magician.
    “And how fares my neighbour across the Blue River? I
dare say you have used the full moon to scry on my wife to be.”
    Maladran cringed slightly at the thought of the match
between his bullish master and the small, golden haired child. By the time she
was old enough to wed he would be a middle aged man. Their union would be an
obscenity which he would have opposed except that the political alliance he had
suggested to his master would prevent a war and untold bloodshed and
destruction.
    “The kingdom prospers under the rule of King Steppen
as it always has. The vines will be heavy with grapes and the trees laden with
fruit again this summer and the people continue to be happy and content, as
they have been since the naming of the princess.”
    “Ah yes, the Princess Daun. Is she still growing into
the most beautiful flower which has ever bloomed and are her thorns becoming sharp
and fierce?”
    Maladran had a passion for flowers and found the
reference to the perversion of such natural beauty distasteful. For a moment he
must have let his feelings show on his face as Sarrat gave a mocking laugh.
    “Don’t go soft on me, magician, remember that taking
the child as my wife was all your idea and your doing. I’m still happy to move
across the Blue River with my army and take Vinmore by force.”
    It was true, it had all been his plan, like all the
other plans he had devised which had put Sarrat on the throne of Leersland and
now held him there. In truth he had devised the strategy to take Vinmore
peacefully but only in order to prevent a beautiful kingdom from being pillaged
and its population being raped and murdered rather than to satisfy Sarrat’s
avarice. Not that he would tell him that. He hadn’t done it out of any sympathy
for Vinmore’s monarchs either, although their goodness and patience couldn’t be
denied. He wondered what it would be like to serve a good king and live without
the constant fear of Sarrat’s violent temper.
    Steppen and Althea had waited eleven summers for the
birth of their first child and in all that time Steppen had remained faithful
to his wife and never once sought to provide the kingdom