Errand of Mercy by Roger Moore Page B

noble child. He had with him a retinue of palace guards and a nervous Ffolk healer who cured his mother’s bruises. Ikavi said little, only that the mage-king himself had ordered that he stay at the palace from now on. His family would not be punished. His mother hugged him briefly, but let him go. Everyone else in his family was too stunned to react.
    Ikavi went away. In the evenings he could be seen standing in the high windows of the palace’s lone tower, looking down at the countless poor dwellings beyond the city walls. He had been saved by the mage-king of Doegan, Aetheric III, the unseen master of Doegan’s great bloodforge— but saved for what? No one knew at first. The haughty Ffolk of the palace hated the child’s presence, especially as he’d slain a Ffolk soldier, but they dared not challenge the mage-king’s decree.
    After his arrival at the palace, Ikavi was regularly brought into the mage-king’s meeting halls. It soon became clear that he was being trained for some purpose. The Ffolk soon feared little Ikavi almost as much as they feared their mage-king, for the boy’s telepathic ability was combined with a great knowledge of the kingdom and its people, and many secrets beyond. Military officers and priests were ordered to teach him all they knew. Ikavi was given political and military powers, which were gradually increased and sharpened.
    In time, Ikavi Garkim was acknowledged to be the mage-king’s personal agent in Doegan. He was loyal and patriotic, educated and well-spoken, determined and ruthless. At last the mage-king sent his voice to the Chamber of Councilors and announced that Lord Ikavi Garkim was one of them. Doegan, said the mage-king, was infested with unseen forces that would bring it low unless they were stopped. Only Lord Garkim—a small, brown, flat-nosed outsider in a sea of white, sharp-nosed faces—could detect those unseen forces, and he had been given almost unlimited authority to root out such evil wherever he found it.
    The other lords took to Ikavi as they would to a serpent in their beds, but they, too, knew a bit about the unseen forces arrayed against Doegan, and they felt their lives were better with the serpent at their sides than not. Left with no other choice, they smiled in his presence.
    Ikavi Garkim had been nobody and was now the mage-king’s right hand. But whether he was better off than before was a question not even Ikavi could answer.
    Lord Ikavi Garkim, Councilor of Internal Investigations, returned to his old neighborhood an hour before dawn, twenty-six years after he had left. Twenty hand-picked soldiers were at his back and a hacking machete was in his right hand. No one noticed him or his soldiers as they walked down the deserted street in the half-light. They were invisible, covered by magic so that even a wizard would be hard pressed to find them, their boots wrapped in cloth to muffle their steps. The sky glowed pink in the east, the sun still low behind the distant mountains. The wind at their backs was cool, a breeze blowing from the shores of the Great Sea. A sparrow chirped from a rooftop.
    Lord Garkim recognized the doorway where he had once sat and carved wooden toys at his father’s side. He had steeled himself for this moment, but it still hurt. His fingers tightened on the thick leather grip of his machete.
    Prepare yourselves, he ordered, sending his thoughts behind him to his soldiers. He sensed their excitement and fear. He took a breath, unaware that he was walking faster, then leaned forward into a dead run for the open doorway. Now! he signaled.
    He went through the doorway with his left arm up, covering his face. The edge of the doorway suddenly blazed with red glyphs as he went through. Trap—
    A roar of flame burned his skin from all sides. The pain, even muffled by his protective magic, was terrific. Instinctively he shut his eyes, saving them from being scorched along with his clothing and hair. He ran into someone and had the