Part 60 (2/2)

'It appears that the ability to talk to unicorns runs in

332 certain human families.' Nastrus was not sounding pleased.

The idea that Joscelyn had found a unicorn that he could talk to and had mastered Interim troubled Jar- rod. The boy was an exceptionally strong, raw Talent with a wild streak that was natural for his age, but could prove dangerous if he did not outgrow it. Now he had established contact with a unicorn. That could spell trouble unless this new unicorn exercised a restraining influence. He would have to ask Nastrus about that, but this was not the time. Perhaps he should try to talk to the newcomer when the funeral was over. He would certainly have to have a few words with the new Dean of the Collegium.

The cortege turned off the road and in to the broad meadow where the pyre waited. The draped coffin was carried up the ramp and placed upon the squat pyramid of logs. Marianna and Nastrus, with Joscelyn and the new unicorn in tow, positioned themselves on the south side as the white-clad youths peeled away. Jarrod and the Chief Warlock took the east and Sumner the west, leaving Greylock alone at the north end. Once he was in position, Jarrod got his first glimpse of the unicorn.

It was certainly a n.o.ble-looking creature, despite its rough coat and tangled mane. It was impossible to tell its age, but it looked fully mature and stood as tall at the shoulder as Nastrus. The two were conversing and Jarrod could tell that the older unicorn was angry.

Arabella and Varodias pa.s.sed near Jarrod and snagged his attention. He saw that the Queen was weep- ing. There was no show in her grief; she uttered no sound and her bearing was regal. The face was an im- mobile mask, but tears trickled slowly down. The sight banished all other thoughts. Jar-rod's eyes stung and there was a sudden lump in his throat. It was as much in sympathy for the Queen as it was for the memory of 333.

Ragnor. Jarrod had lost a friend, but Arabella had lost her second father, a man that she had loved all of her life.

The last of the procession was in now and the meadow was filled. Pale faces stood out against the dark clothing. The feeling of sadness was palpable to Jarrod and so was a certain sense of antic.i.p.ation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Greylock step back, turn, and face the royal enclosure.

”It is my sad and solemn duty to say farewell 10 my old friend and colleague, Ragnor.” The deep voice rolled out, carrying easily. The crowd was silent and still and Jarrod knew that Greylock was using the Voice to compel attention.

”He was a remarkable man. He served as Mage of Arundel, Regent of Arundei, and Archmage of Strand.

He was adept at administiation, whether of the Disci- pline or of a Kingdom. He was astute in diplomacy, wise in counsel and a warm and loving friend. To a!I this must be added that he was a powerful and inventive Magician who performed feats never before ilUempted.

He succeeded at everything to which he turned ha, hand.

”That, perhaps, was his most remarkable quality, his willingness to reach for new solutions. After what, for any other man, would have been a long and distin- guished career, he did not hesitate to launch the quest for the unicorns and, at an age when a Magician hesi- tates to test his powers because of the toll that spell- casting takes, he summoned the Cloak of Invisibility to protect his beloved Celador. Not content with that, he then, with the a.s.sistance of the Mage Courtak, per- formed the Great Spell that rid our world of the Out- landers.”

True, all true, Jarrod thought, but he's going to be fixed in people's memories as infallible and unvaryingly heroic. The real Ragnor was also vain, irascible, impul-

334 sive, manipulative and filled with sly humor. Despite that, Jarrod realized, the man would exist henceforth as an object of veneration and awe. The faults and quali- ties that made him lovable and exasperating by turn, that made a Queen weep for him, would be burned away with his body. All that would remain would be the im- mutable approximation of the man-like the statues of him on a hundred village greens. Someday, he resolved, I shall write his history and restore his humanity.

”. . . will go down in history as the greatest Arch- mage since Errathuel.”

Jarrod realized that the eulogy was coming to an end and that he had missed the bulk of it. He sneaked a look at the crowd and saw thai they were rapt. The years of practice seemed to have given him an immunity from the effects of the Voice, but, for the rest of the people within earshot, it was a compulsion they could not break and would not forget. Small wonder that so few were given knowledge of it.

”And so we bid farewell to the man who was the heart, the conscience and the salvation of Strand,”

Greylock concluded.

The new Archmage turned and faced the pyre once more, the tiara of his office blazing in the sun. Jarrod braced himself for what was to come and was aware, simultaneously, that Nastrus was also prepared. With one accord the a.s.sembled Mages concentrated and, as they did so, flames began to lick around the bottom of the logs. The unicorn added his strength and the pyre ignited with a roar, causing the others to retreat from the sudden rush of heat. Small wisps of smoke curled towards the sky and the air above the coffin danced.

In a matter of minutes, the fire fell in with a spitting, crackling flash. Sparks flew in every direction and the flames leaped in one final, incandescent burst before the conflagration subsided into a mound of fiercely glowing 335.

reds and oranges. Of the coffin, there was no trace. The skin on Jarrod's hands and face felt seared and dry, but he was not about to retreat any further. The colors be- came muted as he watched. Flakes of ash spiraled up- ward in the wavering air. The fire sighed and settled in upon itself. The edges began to turn grey.

Good-bye, Archmage, Jarrod thought, and heard it echoed by Nastrus. The unicorn was also thinking of the moment when they had translated his brother, Bel- dun, back to the Island at the Center. It was fitting somehow. Both were rare creatures and both would live on in his memory. There was no sadness now m Nas- trus' mind, but, in spite of that, Jarrod felt a pang. An age had ended as surely as it had on the night that the Outlanders were destroyed. Nothing will ever be quite the same again, he thought.

As the funeral pyre died, the a.s.sembly stirred, re- leased from its thrall. At that moment, Joscelyn stepped forward and led his unicorn round the glowing rem- nants to face the royal enclosure. No one else moved.

Jarrod's mind flashed out to Nastrus in query, but he received no answer.

”Thus says Astarus the unicorn to his Imperial Maj- esty, Varodias of Umbria,” Joscelyn p.r.o.nounced in a clear, carrying baritone.

His voice has finally broken, Jarrod thought incon- sequentially, and then concentrated on what the boy was saying.

”I have traveled in your land and seen what you do to the earth and the waters and the skies. You permit desecration and for this you will be held to account. It is no business of mine what you do to the humans under your sway, but the unicorns will not remain idle if you continue to despoil the land.

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