The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

"I was an orphan," Michael said. "Well, I am an orphan still, I suppose. Everything I told you about my mother and the farm and the miller's son...none of that was true." Leo snorted. "I guessed that, you lying manipulator." "Well...yeah. Anyway, I grew up on the streets. Begging, stealing, pickpocketing--the whole sad backstory." "Pretty predictable sob story so far." "Well, this time it's true," Michael said testily. "Will you stop interrupting?" "Fine." "So when I was about twelve, I got picked up by a brothel. I guess, I was a pretty child, even as a half-starved street brat." "You're still a pretty child," Leo muttered. Michael ignored him. "One of the older boys there he was...he was like you." That caught Leo by surprise. "A sorcerer?" "No. Well, maybe. I know you said all the sorcerers are dead, and also really old, but maybe there are people who are born with magical abilities? They just weren't trained to use them and don't have the title and everything? I don't know. I just know he could do magic, big magic, but he kept it a secret. He told me I had potential, and he showed me how to do little spells, things to seduce clients so they'd be nice to me and pay more and stuff. It helped, a lot. I got special treatment and had the right to pick my clients and...anyway, it obviously made a lot of the others jealous so...I left." "You just left." "I had been hiding money from the owner, and I used my illusions to get me out of the city and I started over. The problem was I didn't have any skills and I was too old to apprentice. I really didn't want to go back to prostitution, so I started stealing. I got good at it. I used the same skills that older boy had taught me, and I started to bring in clients who needed things "retrieved." I could hide, I could charm, I could pick locks and change my appearance and, most importantly, I could persuade the city watch that nothing suspicious was going on in the rare instances that they caught me. I could talk my way out of anything, Leo. It was glorious." "And then?" "And then I was approached by the Evil Cult and they asked me to steal this thing and I did. And then you double-crossed me and when I handed the crown over it dissolved into ash and they told me if I didn't get it back from you they were going to kill me. And so I did. Except you practically killed yourself to stop me from getting it before the druids destroyed it! And so now here we are, waiting execution, I'm sure." "Convincing, I'm sure," Leo said dryly. "If your stupid little mind tricks worked on me." "I've never tried them on you," Michael said plaintively. "I never wanted to lie to you, Leo. I know you can't believe me, but it's the truth." "Uh-huh. So why didn't you leave?" "What?" "When they sent you the second time. Why didn't you run off to another city or something instead of coming back to try and kill me?" "I wasn't trying to kill you. I was trying very hard not to hurt you at all. You were the one who wouldn't stop trying to use magic well past the point where it clearly wasn't safe any more!" "Whatever. Why didn't you run?" "You know the binding sigil they used to control the sorcerers?" "Obviously." "They gave me one of those." "No they didn't." "It's not the same, obviously," Michael snapped, "It doesn't take over my mind and turn me into a rage-crazed slave, but it's functionally the same. If I did anything to make them think I'd double-crossed them, they'd use it to kill me. I'd show you if there was any light down here." "Ah," Leo said wearily. "So you were willing to sacrifice my life to save your own." "I never wanted to hurt you! I just wanted the crown." "And what do you think would happen if they got the crown?" Leo demanded. "They used it to control me once before, and they'll do it again if they get half the chance. If they're still practicing blood magic and binding sigils, they're probably going to try it without the crown. Why do you think I'm here?" "Oh," Michael breathed. "Oh gods, I'm such an idiot. I should never have taken that job." "No," Leo snapped. "You shouldn't have." Michael drew a ragged breath, and didn't say anything else. "Who are they?" Leo asked finally. "You told me you were the lost heir and they needed someone of royal blood to reawaken the old bindings. Obviously that's not true, so who is actually pulling the strings?" "His name is Adrian. He claims to be divinely appointed to restore order to the nation. I don't know if he's actually an heir or not. He's the big guy in the black armor you met on the battlefield." "And he's practicing blood magic?" "They all are, I think. There's about twelve or fifteen of them. None of those soldiers you fought were real. They were conjured as a distraction." "And the fire from heaven?" "Also a distraction but much more real." "Great," Leo muttered. "Leo?" Michael asked, his voice going high and anxious. "Do you believe me?" Leo shrugged. "How can I believe anything you say?" Michael's voice was muffled as he answered. "I don't know." "It hurt, when you left," Leo said quietly. "I waited at the entrance to that tomb and I watched the sun set and the stars come out and the wolves howling and I waited and the moon rose and then those stupid government surveyors showed up and..." He took a deep breath, fighting against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "I knew you had gone. I knew you were going to, that's why I switched the crown out in the first place. But I hoped, stupidly, that I was wrong." "I didn't want to go," Michael whispered. "But I couldn't risk you messing up the job. Once I'd delivered and collected payment, I always meant to come back. I didn't know parliament was going to get involved. I thought I'd see you back at your shop in a week or two and make up some stupid story and you would forgive me and we could...we could try to build something real together. And then it all went wrong." "Lies and deception tend to go wrong," Leo sighed. "Evil cults, cursed relics, and attempts at slavery made it worse, obviously." He tried to imagine that alternate world, one where he waited on the hill until morning, checked the tomb himself, and then walked back into the city. He imagined reopening the shop, bickering with Mrs. S., and trying to move onto his life. He tried to imagine Michael walking in, his hair glowing in the sunbeams with the dust motes dancing around him like sprites. Would he have forgiven him? If he was able to cut out the imprisonment and the torture and magical exhaustion, would he feel differently about being betrayed? He didn't know. He didn't think so. He lifted his head at the sound of heavy footsteps. The soldiers were back.