Princil's Magic : Ch.13 : Reformed Wizard (Part 3 : Bricas)

Bricas

 

     Grigor found the wizard, holding court to ladies and men at the bath house. The wizard had lost his customary moustache, but his hair was still long and dark. Unlike the typical Dark Wizard his hair was very clean. Grigor had seen the wizard before at meetings and in the court of Guthelm before, although they had probably never spoken directly to one another before. The wizard’s appearance was very different to the one Grigor had seen before. The dirty, heavy black wizard’s robe was gone with the moustache. The hair had less of the flecks of grey in it as well as being clean. Bricas seemed to be doing the wizard some good. He looked leaner and younger, more vibrant than in the past. Wizards followed harsh codes in life, and in Guthelm’s service they sheltered behind their facades. Aribor must surely have been one such wizard! Having made his choice to become a refugee the change seemed to have taken some of the burdens away. By all accounts, and by what Grigor could see before him, Grigor could see life in Shalirion was suiting the wizard. Like many he wore a white bathrobe while out of the water, which he hung on his peg, a huge change from the dark robes most wizards lived in in Grumandria.

 

     Grigor lowered himself into the bath, leaving his blue bathrobe, which he had bought in a local shop, on a peg. He was not familiar with baths, but he understood what was done here from other spies who had come before. He had never learned to swim so he kept to shallow parts, but he was pleased to find the water had been warmed. He felt very naked in the water, but everyone else, male and female, was naked too, so he could bear the indignity. When he saw naked females nearby he had to ensure that he glanced rather than stared. He had seen much in his life, much of it terrible, but he had not seen this before. So much nudity, and the sharing of these quarters with women. It twisted his mind uncomfortably. What was private in Animar was public here in Shalirion. He ignored the ladies who reminded him of his wife in Pelancir. He tried not to look.

 

     When the time was appropriate and Aribor was not talking to anyone Grigor approached. He spoke in the language and accent of Animar, perhaps more of Pelancir than of Grumandria, although he was of Grumandria himself originally. He was more used to serving Pelancir and had been for a long time.

 

     “Good day to you sir,” he addressed the wizard with respect.

 

     “You do not sound like one from these parts,” Aribor was probably quite conscious of potential danger from Guthelm and his former sorcerous colleagues.

 

     “Aye,” admitted Grigor, “I am from Pelancir, in the service of King Charlerion. Do not fear, I bring no harm to you, and I do not serve your former master.”

 

     Aribor would surely have sensed any intention to do him harm. Wizards had a sixth sense about such threats.

 

     “You were disaffected by King Guthelm and some of the tasks they wanted you to do,” judged Grigor confidentially. “But matters have moved on since then. Guthelm is not popular now. His methods of conquest are wearing down his Kingdom and his people. Continual conquest is destroying his people. Loyal followers are suspected and disowned. He has mismanaged the war here in Shalirion. Even my master feels that it is time something was done to change matters. It is time for Guthelm to go. A better leader can be found for Grumandria!”

 

     “I am glad to hear it,” admitted Aribor, taking all that was said into account. But it is no longer my duty to concern myself with Guthelm. I am forbidden to return; my fellow wizards have doubtless by now disowned me. I work here in a new way to help the people we attacked. I no longer wish to see Shalirion conquered. What do I care about Guthelm now?”

 

     “I am sure you can tell? I want you to assist in the downfall of Guthelm,” explained Grigor.

 

     “You want my magical skills?”

 

     “Yes. You have already broken with Guthelm,” said Grigor. “I can tell you there are other wizards who may, perhaps for different reasons, have an interest in removing Guthelm. You might work together to free your countrymen from his despotism!”

 

     “So some other leader may be found to destroy Shalirion?” asked Aribor suspiciously.

 

     “Not necessarily, but that would depend upon who the new leader was and what he determined should be the new policy,” said Grigor carefully.

 

      “I do not want to promote some new leader who will defeat Shalirion. I have discovered there are riches here in this land, which are more precious than anything we have in Animar!”

 

      “We thought you might say that,” said Grigor without surprise. “You acquired a beautiful young woman during the fall of Cromilil, I believe?”

 

     Aribor returned these words with an uncommitted stare.

 

     “Her name was Remzain, of the Chanceleord House.”

 

     “I knew Remzain, of course,” nodded Aribor, showing full interest now. “Where is she, is she safe?”

 

     “She is safe, as you would mean safe. She was King Guthelm’s concubine for 2 weeks. Then my master King Charlerion, who had danced with her at a feast, he requested to have her in a deal with King Guthelm, so she was sent to King Charlerion, and has been his concubine ever since. He has looked after her well, I would say, as my King seems to have a strong liking for her.

 

     “We know she meant a lot to you at the time,” continued Grigor, “And she thinks you might be interested in meeting her again, to discuss this matter of Guthelm we have been talking about.”

 

     “I would like to meet her again, most surely,” declared Aribor, finding it impossible to conceal the excitement he felt at the possibility of once again meeting the woman who had charmed his body and his soul so completely. “As well as being King Charlerion’s concubine, she works for him now as well?”

 

     “In this she does, you could say!” said Grigor. “Remzain is in Bricas at this moment. I can bring her to see you, somewhere less public than this perhaps?”

 

     “Remzain is here?” Aribor reacted with surprise. He had not been expecting this. A sense of panic, of extreme interest mixed with the desire not to open old wounds, played in his mind. To meet her again was all he desired, but he was a new man now. He did not need contact with the woman whose removal from him by Valdark had hurt him so badly. He had found solace in Bricas, but his rational being told him that Remzain was a part of his past, a beautiful part, who had put him on the path to his redemption. Now he had resurrected his life to a form in which he could live without her, he was being offered contact with her! Surely it was no longer his duty to fight his old master King Guthelm. He had escaped from all that. He would defend his adopted home and his new friends, but it could not be his place to serve a new leader or do the bidding of Charlerion of Pelancir, a foreigner who held no claim over his loyalty at all!

 

 

    Aribor felt strong feelings when he realised it might be likely that he would meet Remzain again. The memory of her was still powerful, and the scars of her loss were not completely healed in him. He imagined the possibility that he might be able to resurrect his relationship with Remzain. He knew that such a dream might likely not come true. She belonged it seemed to another King, who appeared to have laid his claim upon her.

 

    Aribor was a different man now, a broader, calmer man. He had helped his King’s enemies, the people of Shalirion, and proved that he did have a conscience after all. He was now a man of good, a partly reformed individual. But he was still Aribor the Sorceror. He could be cruel still, was certainly very selfish, and perhaps even capable of dealing blows to his previous masters.

 

    He was not completely obsessed with Remzain, as he became when she was his prisoner before. Then he had craved perfection and found it in the young Chanceleord woman. To his surprise he had found a perfection in her spirit, which came to supercede the dreams of perfection. Since he had her so cruelly ripped away from him by Valdark he had spent time with the Shalirionites of Bricas. They had taught him many pleasant lessons in the ways of sexual pleasure. The desire to control women had receded in him. He had enjoyed companionship with Shalirion’s women as equals, and had learned to share them with other men and women. He had met women of many shapes and sizes and types, and he no longer felt the uncertainty of not knowing which sexual experiences he would be able to find as each conquest occurred and soldiers and wizards fought for the spoils of war. He no longer felt the desperation of being a dark sorcerer and being a part of a conquering force.