Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

as always in black—an affectation Aralorn was determined to change. It wasn’t that he didn’t look good in it, just that it was a bit morbid at times. The silver mask was nowhere evident, and the magic-scarred face looked worse than usual in the bright winter sunlight.
    “Cain,” said Kisrah softly, as if he hadn’t really believed what the specter had told him.
    Wolf bowed shallowly without letting his eyes drop from the Archmage’s. “Lord Kisrah.”
    “You are here to tell me the importance of . . . these charismatic spells, I assume?”
    Wolf shook his head. “I wouldn’t have mentioned them myself, but as Aralorn has seen fit to do so, I will explain—better yet, I’ll cast one.” He made an economical motion with his hand.
    Aralorn sucked in a breath at his recklessness. She would have thought the battle with his father would have cured him of seeking battle with another powerful mage. Couldn’t he have just told Kisrah how the spell worked?
    Kisrah looked white and strained, but he gestured with equal rapidity—a counterspell, thought Aralorn—or rather a breaking spell of some sort, because it wasn’t possible to directly counter an unknown spell.
    “Here,” said Wolf softly. “I’ll give you more magic to work with.”
    Aralorn didn’t see anything happen, but a moment later Kisrah swore and pulled a thick gold-and-ruby ring off his finger, tossing it into the snow. It must have been quite warm, as it fell quickly through to the ground, then melted a fair-sized hole around it that exposed the yellowed grass beneath.
    For Aralorn’s benefit, Wolf said, “He just broke the charisma spells—both of them.”
    Aralorn looked at the ring, seeing the magic imbued in it. “Both of them?”
    “Mine and my father’s.”
    Kisrah nodded, looking stunned as he stared at the ring. “Geoffrey gave me that ring. I can’t believe I didn’t see that it was runescribed. Why would he do that?”
    “My father,” observed Wolf, his hoarse voice sounding even dryer than usual, “was very good at making people overlook things when he chose.”
    “The ring was runescribed?” asked Aralorn. She put her hands on her hips and glared at Wolf. “So mages do use rings and amulets for spells.”
    “ Not for warding spells,” said Wolf repressively. “The runes are too complex to fit on an amulet—at least a warding that would keep out much more than errant mice.”
    “Ensorcelled,” said the Archmage, ignoring their by-play. “A charm spell, indeed, but to what purpose?”
    “What indeed?” said Wolf.
    “The ae’Magi spread his charisma spell over a fair bit of territory before he met his untimely end,” said Aralorn. “Why do you think everyone loved him so? Even people who’d barely heard of him.”
    Kisrah stared at her.
    “Who would ever think that the reason there were so few children in the villages around the ae’Magi’s castle was because the ae’Magi was killing them for the power he could get from untrained mages?” she said.
    “He ...” Kisrah’s voice trailed off, then became firmer. “He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. A rune set in a ring—maybe. But I felt the power you had to use, Cain. No one could keep a spell like that running for long over more than a few people.”
    “No one worries about charisma spells,” agreed Wolf. “They require too much power to be of use, and the control of the ae’Magi bars black magic anyway. Unless, of course, you are the ae’Magi and are perfectly willing to turn elsewhere for your power. There are a lot of spells that require too much power without death magic, sex magic, or, at the very least, blood, aren’t there? Some spells that haven’t been worked since the Wizard Wars.”
    Kisrah flinched.
    “He gave you such a spell to work, didn’t he?” asked Aralorn softly. “He gave you the proof, himself, that he knew . . . that he knows black magic.”
    She wasn’t going to tell Kisrah that they weren’t sure that it was Geoffrey who had been visiting his dreams.
    The Archmage looked up sharply.
    “I’ve had a few dreams, too,” she said. “Dreams of blood and magic.”
    “Yes.” His voice crackled like the ice under the horses’ hooves. “I set up part of the spell that holds the Lyon, plague take you both. I had to use black magic to do it.”
    “Why?” asked Wolf.
    “Shortly after Geoffrey disappeared, before anyone knew what might have happened to him, I awoke one night, and there he was, standing