The city was large, boisterous and intimidating. It had swollen beyond its usual bustling activity, through the influx of the war's refugees. Chara clung to Iren's hand as she walked the stone artifices of the palace. Many more people lived within its halls than in the entire town of Antrahil. Or so it seemed. A bevy of ragged farmers, their life's belongings slung over their shoulders, two goats leashed to their wrists, gazed forlornly around, in apparent search for something they might have lost. Soldiers were everywhere in evidence, buzzing gossip and worry about a recent defeat. In a large corner of the courtyard, a merchant's market traded wares.
Chara seemed puzzled by this. "The merchants all stayed in Antrahil. There was no river then between your town and our home. Sorcerers came to Antrahil to buy the wares."
"Aline's river?" prodded Iren. She'd remembered the tale of the river from years ago. Chara had yet to speak of it on this journey.
"Aline's river." But Chara broke loose to examine some pottery a potter was turning on his wheel.
Jaeris Plaice impatiently called her back.
"But see the lines and the patterns? So exquisite!"
"I'll buy it for you. Now, come along. We cannot be late for our audience with the King." Iren dropped a coin in the potter's hand and swept up the purchase, a small yet exquisite vase.
The princess and her adviser went on ahead. Iren and Chara stopped in one of the rooms to allow Chara to change into the delicate silky powder blue garb given her. Iren went on, to change into her court garb. In short order, Chara was sent for, rejoining Iren for their audience with the king.
They reached the king's audience chamber. Princess Katarina was present already, dressed in silver splendor. King Rivulan himself was a young man, younger than his sister, but likewise dark-haired. His was a quiet, angular handsomeness as opposed to his sister's plain angularity, set off by a moustache and a crown. He sat upon a throne on a raised dias; the room done in brilliant reds and golds and magentas, his clothing a velvet royal blue.
Jaeris Plaice spoke quietly.
"My most august liege, the Princess Katarina presents Chara of Antrahil, who claims to be a Sorceress of Sorcerer's Point."
The King nodded. "Step forward, Chara."
She faltered, and then took a step. And bowed.
"Up, up. There will be no sorceresses bowing to us. You are a sorceress, are you not?"
She composed herself. "You seek one who will defeat the army that is even now being sent against you?" Her voice sounded reedy and thin, yet almost presumptuous.
"They will be here within a week. I have sent several large contingents of troops against them. They were routed." Yes, she recalled the ragtag trailing of conscripted men outside and inside the city walls. "Our next defense must be here. These walls are sturdy and well-built by my grandfather, who left little to chance. But they will starve us out with any lengthy siege. The crops were only moderate this year. We are hoarding what we can. Are you a sorceress?"
She shivered. "There is no more magic."
"Then you must teach us. We have scholars and we have mystics. Which would you prefer to teach?"
"The magic would kill them." She shook her head as if to clear it. She looked to the ground, but then back to King Rivulan, momentarily clenching a fist. "But I have a debt to repay. To Iren's brother, Iliar."
"Then, help us," demanded Jaeris Plaice. "If you honestly can."
"I have to tell you a story, begging your pardon. Once there came to Sorcerer's Point a plain but hardworking girl-child named Meliora. She was not even an apprentice to magic, but a child hired out to help in the laundry. In exchange, she was allowed to board at the Point. She worked hard, but dreamed as she had always dreamed, of apprenticeship. She applied, but was never accepted. All around her, sorcerers were performing feats of sorcery, but she was never instructed in even the simplest of spells. She felt the chasm of difference that separated her from those she admired and, yes, worshipped."
"I am not in the mood for another story. I have heard far too many stories these last two days." Jaeris Plaice turned and left, after a quick bow to his liege lord.
Chara stopped, puzzled at the break in her thoughts.
"Continue," said King Rivulan, lazily. "Although we are inclined to agree with the councilor."
"I -- I am sorry to have given offense. May I continue?"
He nodded, impatiently, settling back into his throne with a bored air.
"Meliora was befriended by the sorceress Aline, the one I've mentioned. Aline was of her age. But Aline had been forbidden to teach Meliora anything she'd wanted to know. It was a drain on Aline, having always to fend off her questions, I'm sure. But Aline was good-hearted, and could turn most of Meliora's moods into cheerfulness. Aline was never a major sorceress -- she died too young for that, but she showed every potential for it.
"But the War came. The War broke Aline as it broke all the rest. But, before she died, she called Meliora into her studio -- she painted moving sculptures, you know -- and pointed out at the valley between the two rises. An army of ghouls was marching down that valley. She told -- Meliora -- to watch and memorize the spell she was to cast, if she wanted, but never to use it; that the time of all sorcery was soon to end. The spell was too important to use more than once, she said. But Meliora watched, and memorized it; and saw the gushing waters as they rushed down the valley, drowning ghouls left and right."
"Yes?" asked the princess, softly.
"The ghouls died." Chara seemed to weaken. Iren guided her to a chair. Chara folded into it; into herself. "The next day, the sorcerers all were dead."
"The ultimate spell, yes. What was it?" asked the King.
She shook her head, lost in wordlessness.
"Tell us, Meliora," whispered Princess Katarina.
Chara started at that ancient name. "How -- how do you know? I left Meliora behind."
"And became a sorceress, at least within your own mind. You kept your one spell safe, I warrant you. We could use that spell. You'll be well- regarded as a sorceress, Meliora."
"I -- don't tear my past from me! I was a sorceress! I remember it all so clearly! Meliora was -- Meliora was someone else!"
"She knows a spell. She is indeed a sorceress, whether you believe it or not. You can let her out." It was the princess, again. Chara cast her a look of deep hatred. "You are the last sorceress -- you hold that gift in your head and your heart. The ultimate spell destroyed all the sorcerers, you see. If you were a sorceress back then, you would be dead. Take comfort in the fact that you can become a sorceress now; you can transform your dream into reality. Simply by using the spell."
"Yes", breathed Chara; now Meliora. "I wanted to dream in my past glory. I made myself believe it was all true. I changed my name to the name of power I would have used. I began doing all this even before the end. But something in me knew well enough. Something in me did not do enough to prevent three men from dying, at the Point, by telling them the one thing that would keep them away." She gathered strength into herself. "I will make amends. I will cast this spell for you and drown the host that comes to attack you."
Iren had stepped back. "Three men died. My brother. Why?"
"I warned them of it, but not of the why. You cannot use the books anymore. They've been cursed, with the ultimate spell. No more magic."
"Nothing, but that ultimate spell and your one spell?"
"Nothing but that. Nothing else is usable. When they read them, the books would blow up in their faces."
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