‘Maybe even more?’ I asked, flipping an additional card from the deck. It would have been nice if it had magically turned out to be another king, but it was the six of arrows.
‘Anything’s possible, I suppose.’
‘This Kellen fellow sounds awfully dangerous. Aren’t you the least bit anxious you might get hurt chasing him all over the Daroman territories?’
‘No.’
I leaned my elbows on the table and peered into his eyes. ‘You’re that sure of yourself? You’re really that powerful?’
‘I am. But unlike the fools you’ve met before, I’m also cautious. That’s why I made certain preparations in advance of our encounter, just to be sure.’
I tapped my pile of coins. ‘You mean like losing a lot of money at cards?’
He chuckled at that. ‘In a manner of speaking. The cards were just to keep you in your chair, which, as you’re about to discover, I enchanted yesterday with magic older and fouler than you can imagine.’
I looked down at my chair. ‘This rickety old thing? I hate to tell you, friend, but if it’s supposed to be killing me right now, it’s not working very well.’
‘Kill you? Don’t be silly. I want to keep that pleasure for myself. No, the chair has a sympathetic binding spell on it, Kellen. When a mage sits down upon it, the enchantment gradually seizes hold of the magic inside him. By now, even that tiny drip of power in the breath band on your forearm is enough to hold you in a grip stronger than oak or iron.’ He gestured for me to get up. ‘Go ahead. Try to move. The more you struggle, the stronger the spell will bind you to the chair, until eventually you’ll suffocate from the pressure.’
I considered that for a moment. ‘That really does sound ingenious. Can’t imagine a way out of such a fiendish trap. Almost makes me wonder why nobody ever thought to try it on this Kellen person before.’
The old man giggled. ‘Oh, not many can cast this spell, I assure you.’
‘I’m curious, then, why the dozen or so people who sat in this chair before me today didn’t seem troubled by it at all.’
Irritation crossed the old man’s features. ‘As I’ve told you, the binding only works on Jan’Tep mages. I would’ve thought you’d appreciate the compliment, Kellen. At least now people will have to recognise that you weren’t entirely devoid of magical ability.’
‘Right, right,’ I said. ‘Diabolical and considerate. And yet …’ I drummed my fingers on the table.
‘And yet what?’
I tilted by head back to stare idly up at the ceiling. ‘Well, it seems risky to me, putting so much effort into something as banal as a chair, relying on the victim to sit down on the right one.’
‘No risk at all. You’ve been seen here every night for the past week, sitting in that same chair each time. So I made sure to be in my chair before you got here, and the bartender ensured no one else sat there until you arrived. Besides, I picked a night when most of these barbarians are out celebrating their little queen’s birthday festival.’
‘Sure, that makes sense. Still though …’
‘What?’
‘Well, this Kellen is supposed to be some kind of devilishly clever outlaw, isn’t he? A genius at the art of evading his enemies?’
‘Genius? No. Cunning, perhaps. He keeps a few tricks up his sleeve, certainly.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘Right. Cunning. Tricky. So I guess what I’m asking is, wouldn’t it be just like a cunning, tricky fellow to figure out what you were up to and then come in the night before to swap the chairs? I mean, he does seem to have an uncanny knack for survival. What if he’d just happened to sneak in here after closing time last night, put your chair here, and his chair, well, right where you’re sitting now. Wouldn’t that technically mean you were in the binding spell?’
The mage’s eyes narrowed. He tried lifting his arm, only for his mouth to gape open when it didn’t move. He tore at the sleeve of his robe as if it was glued to the arm of the chair. He began shifting furiously, trying to get out of his seat, but to no avail. His gyrations grew more and more frenetic until finally he stared across the table at me, lips moving silently, helplessly, as though his chest were being crushed by an ever-increasing lead weight. His eyes fluttered closed.
The room fell silent.
Then the old man started laughing.
He rose effortlessly from the chair and patted his belly. ‘My, oh my. The look on your face! I swear, boy, that was priceless! Like watching a hangman at the gallows discovering the noose around his own neck!’
‘Well now,’ I said drily, ‘that was quite a performance.’
The old man bowed at the waist. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ He sat back down and started giggling again. ‘I did warn you, Kellen, that I’m just a bit smarter than those other mages you’ve duelled in the past.’
‘Just a bit,’ I acknowledged.
‘I knew there was a chance you might learn of my plans, so I took precautions. I made sure the chairs were checked first thing in the morning. So after you snuck in last night and switched them …’
‘Your accomplice switched them back before I arrived.’ I looked over at the bartender who had a grimy smile on his face. ‘Nice way to treat a regular customer,’ I said.
The mage slapped his hands down on the table between us. ‘Now then, I’m afraid that while this has certainly been entertaining, it’s past time I collected the other half of my bounty, which means we have to conclude our business together.’
The bartender came over and placed a dusty bottle of wine and a corkscrew on the table.
‘Don’t you think you should at least offer me a glass of whatever you’re celebrating with before you kill me?’
‘This?’ he said, holding up the bottle. ‘Oh no. This I’m saving for later.’ He put the bottle back down on the table, pulled a white cloth from the pocket of his robe and set about cleaning the corkscrew. ‘This,’ he said, holding it up for me, ‘is what I’m going to twist into that black eye of yours. Then I’m going to rip the life right out of you.’
I swallowed. ‘Sounds a bit barbaric for a distinguished gentleman like yourself, if you don’t mind my saying.’
‘A requirement of my Daroman employers,’ he explained. ‘Desecrating the corpses of their enemies is something of a tradition with them. Sends a more meaningful message to their little queen.’
I nodded sympathetically. ‘Freelance work can be so messy.’
‘I don’t mind.’ He turned the now gleaming corkscrew in the air. ‘A lord magus rarely gets his hands dirty, but twisting this into your eye? Inflicting such horrific pain while you sit there, screaming in agony yet unable to move a muscle?’ He shivered. ‘Let’s just say it’s an idea that intrigues me. I suspect you’ll suffocate from struggling against the binding spell before you die of your wounds.’
I bit my lip. ‘Don’t suppose I can talk you out of this? Maybe make a deal?’
The mage shook his head. He smiled one last time, showing me those perfect teeth of his before standing up, the corkscrew gripped tightly in his right hand.