Page 22 of The Gargoyle's Gift
“Indeed.” He settled back in his chair again, the tension between us having relaxed to a much more comfortable level. “Listen, Gaius. What happened at covenants?—”
“Should be left in the past.” I forced the words out, trying to avoid any chance of keeping them in. I could see Lovette again in my mind, smiling at me. Craving her approval so desperately was an annoyance, but it was one I found myself growing used to little by little.
“I…” Magnus frowned, his eyes widening. “Yes. I agree. I came to say the same. That I have regretted many things that happened that day, but I should not blame you for them. Ygritte would be very cross with me for continuing to hold a grudge over what happened. She met her end as she wished, and there is no one at fault for it save the creature she was battling at the time.” His features went still, his focus once again on the table instead of me.
I could easily guess what he was seeing in the wood—the faces of those we lost that day, the enemies that bested us if only for long enough to take many dear to us. I thought of my brother who’d fallen to a blade that should have been easily deflected. A blade that turned his veins black…
The memory startled me. My ale sloshed over the rim of my cup, drawing Magnus’s attention. As the bubbles popped on the tabletop, I wondered why such an important detail had evaded me until now. “Magnus, that sword, the one that was used on me, did Imogen have a chance to evaluate it before the council forced her to turn it in?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s much older, obviously, but was fabricated much like the one she made for my niece. Not quite the same, however. There were elements she hadn’t been able to separate out from her sample when it was confiscated.” Magnus tilted his head, scanning my face. “What are you thinking?”
“Do you recall ever seeing a blade like that before? One that does what it did to me?”
Magnus shook his head. “No. But something tells me you have?”
“Yes. Though…” I didn’t know how to explain the new memory. Wasn’t sure it was even real, though it felt more honest than many things the past several decades. “Do you have faith in our council, Magnus?”
His mouth turned downward. “No.”
The simple, firm admission affirmed all the reasons we’d once been allies. Friends. We were not so different, even after all the distance we’d put between ourselves.
“Good. There’s rot there, and it’s spreading.”
Magnus nodded. “I made the mistake of giving a full report during debrief and mentioned the sword before I could censor myself. I’m the reason it’s in the archives instead of where it belongs—safe at the conclave or perhaps even with the archmage.”
“Mmm. They’ve trained us too well after all these years. I actually have good reason to believe they’ve been drugging some of us into forgetfulness.” I frowned as the words came out, feeling foolish despite not being at fault for something well beyond my control.
“What?”
I drank deep again, preparing to admit things to Magnus I’d barely had a chance to get my own mind around. “I’ve overheard Hugo and Augustus talking. It’s come up more than once. It would explain several things.”
“Mmm.” Magnus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What are you suggesting?”
“We need to expose and excise the disease,” I said, using words I’d head Lovette say in the infirmary more than once.
“But first we need to know how deep it’s invaded.” Magnus nodded. “What have you remembered, Gaius?”
I stared at him for a moment, steeling myself to forge a thread of friendship and trust between us. “Brutus… his flesh turned black before he died, much like mine did when that sword severed my limbs.”
Magnus’s eyebrows drew together. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, making sure we were not being observed. We’d been seated in a private corner, but one never could tell in such places. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s only just returned to me, but I know it to be true. I can remember being horrified at the time, wondering what terrible magic was at play. I cannot be sure when I forgot that detail, but it must have been soon after.” My skin crawled, considering what else I’d conveniently lost from my recollection over the years. “What about you, were there any injured you can recall suffering the same affliction?”
He frowned harder. “No, but we were not in the same part of the battlefield.” He leaned forward, voice lower still. “There was a book I obtained from the archives, a journal. It detailed the beginnings of the council. Have you read anything like that?” I shook my head. “It went through, in real-time entries, how in the beginning, the goals of the founding members were pure. Lofty but well-intentioned. Then the power began corrupting, little by little. There’s a reason such a record was locked away. Perhaps we can avail ourselves of the knowledge and improve things, if we work together.”
He’d read my mind. “I’d love to read such a book for myself, if you still have it? There are two members I know for sure are operating under only their own motives. What’s to say it’s not more? Or all?” I fought the urge to shudder under the implication of such a thing.
“Indeed. There’s a history of disappearances—people and items alike—when they were seen as problematic to the council’s goals. Be cautious, Gaius.”
“Are you telling me I should play nice, Magnus?”
He snorted. “I suppose, though I’m assuming it’s already too late?”
I didn’t justify the comment with a response, just inclined my head and drank more ale. My arm had begun to ache, but I forced myself not to touch it.
“Greta may have an elixir to help restore memories,” he muttered thoughtfully. “I’ll speak with her.”
Silence fell over our table while we both considered what we’d learned. Then the scheming began, and there were few things more dangerous than two well-battled generals who had reason to believe the ones handing down their orders were self-motivated traitors.
