23. Benjin

twenty-three

Benjin

The moment they arrived at the palace, Benjin could tell something was wrong. The courtyard was a beehive of activity. Royal guards and servants rushed about with a franticness Benjin had only seen during the Summit. Then, however, there'd been an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. This time, there was only a dull, ominous sense of dread.

"What do you think's going on?" he asked Haldric.

Haldric stared out the window, his face as grim as those of the servants. "I don't know." Benjin's heart fluttered when Haldric briefly squeezed his hand. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Together."

Benjin nodded, relaxing at the prince's reassurance. Last night had felt different from their first together at the Galax estate—less rushed and more tender. This time, there'd been no spur-of-the-moment decisions. They'd both known exactly what it meant.

Of course, it also helped that Haldric hadn't fled the instant the sun rose. Even if he had insisted on slipping out early after waking Benjin with a good morning kiss.

Palace guards swarmed them the instant their carriage came to a halt. "Your Highness," one of them said, her voice brisk. "You must come with us at once."

Haldric's courtly mask slipped into place, his shoulders squaring. "What is this about, Captain?"

The guard's gaze flicked to Benjin. "I'm not at liberty to say, Your Highness. I'm to bring you straight to the king's quarters. Duchess Janelle's orders."

Haldric paled. "My father. Is he—?"

"I don't know, Your Highness." A hint of sympathy bled into the guard's expression. "Please, come with me. The duchess will explain more."

Haldric nodded, allowing the guards to lead him from the carriage. Benjin hesitated on the bench, uncertain whether to follow until Haldric glanced back at him, his green eyes pleading.

Benjin snagged his satchel with the Grand Magus' parcel and hurried to follow the prince. That earned him a few sideways glances from the guards, but no one stopped him. Prince Haldric visibly relaxed once he spotted Benjin, shooting him a grateful smile.

They passed Marshal Fendrel and the other soldiers, who appeared to be receiving their own debriefing. Fendrel glanced at Benjin as he passed and gave him a nod. Benjin nodded back, pride warming his chest. Apparently, fighting together in defense of the prince had finally earned him the marshal's respect.

Haldric's obvious tension grew as they navigated the palace corridors toward the king's chambers. By the time they reached the entryway and found it abuzz with activity, Haldric's back was so stiff that Benjin worried it might snap.

He longed to reach out and grip Haldric's hand, to whisper words of comfort, but he didn't dare—not with so many eyes on them. Haldric could make whatever promises he wanted in the comfort of night and each other's arms, but Benjin wasn't a fool. Whatever future they might find together could never be official or in the open thanks to his arrangement with House Galax.

The thought wormed a hole in Benjin's belly, but he shoved it aside. He could worry about that later. Right now, he had to be here for Haldric.

Amid the activity, Benjin spied the Grand Magus speaking with a pair of chirurgeons. Haldric seemed frozen in place, so Benjin placed a hand on his back and gently steered him in that direction. The Grand Magus glanced over as they approached, appearing unsurprised to see them together.

"Ah, good, you've arrived. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone discussing your trip. As you can see, things have been somewhat hectic here."

"My father," Haldric croaked. "Is he…?"

Benjin poofed out a breath when Dexil smiled. "Alive, thank the Goddess. But he gave us quite the scare when a servant found him collapsed in his sitting room." A hint of sadness crept into his smile. He rested a comforting hand on Haldric's shoulder. "I'm afraid his condition has worsened, Your Highness."

"But…but the healers," Haldric protested. His fingers worked uselessly at his tunic, as though longing to grip a sword or cast a spell. "Your potions! Surely, something can be done."

The Grand Magus heaved a sigh. "We all knew this day would come, my boy. The corruption within him has +run its course. There's little else magic can do now except ease his pain."

Haldric's mouth worked open and shut, his expression lost. Benjin's urge to wrap him in a hug was nearly irresistible.

"How long?" the prince finally asked.

"I wish I could say, Your Highness. Weeks, months…it's impossible to predict. Such is the nature of the Void."

"Thank you," Haldric said. Unease gripped Benjin at the stiffness in his voice. Faced with his grief, he must be retreating beneath his veneer of formality. "You've ever been a loyal servant to my father, Dexil. And a trusted teacher to me. I won't forget that."

The Grand Magus' violet eyes were pools of sorrow as he embraced the prince. Haldric didn't return the gesture beyond an awkward pat on the back.

"Of course, Your Highness," Dexil said. "I shall always endeavor to do what is best, for both you and Ilthabard."

A fresh commotion rose across the room as the doors leading to the king's bed chamber opened, revealing an exhausted-looking Duchess Janelle. Her hair was a matted mess, her armor dull.

"Where is he?" she demanded, peering about the chamber. "Is he here yet?" Her gaze settled on Haldric. "Ah, there you are!"

Benjin watched warily as she strode over. When she spied Benjin, her steps slowed, her eyes narrowing. "This is no time for a barely trained apprentice to be underfoot. Don't you have other duties to attend to elsewhere?"

Before Benjin could muster a reply, Haldric stepped between them, his voice cold. "He's here at my request, Aunt. I want him here."

Benjin's heart swelled. Though the duchess hardly seemed pleased, she jerked a nod. "In that case, both of you come. The king is awake and wishes to speak with you."

Trepidation gripped Benjin as he followed Haldric and the duchess into the king's chambers. King Roland lay much as he had the other times Benjin had accompanied Dexil here to tend to him. What little energy he'd possessed, however, had vanished. His emerald eyes, so much like his son's, were dull and distant, his face gaunter than before. It was a challenge for him to even turn his head to look at them.

When he saw Haldric, he managed a faint smile, his distant gaze sharpening. "My son. You have returned from Khordan. Tell me, was your trip successful?"

"It was," Haldric replied. He slid a nearby chair over to sit beside the bed, taking his father's limp hand in his own. "Though not without its difficulties. I'll tell you all about it if you'd like."

"Very much so." The king's gaze flickered over to where Janelle and Benjin still stood by the doorway. A slight frown twisted his lips. "I wish some time alone with my son. Leave us and see that we are not disturbed before I'm done."

Janelle bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty. Come along, you," she barked to Benjin, ushering him out of the chamber.

He snuck a final glance at Haldric, hoping to convey what comfort he could, but the prince's attention remained focused on his father. While Benjin understood, that didn't stop a tiny piece of his heart from breaking at his inability to help.

Then, they were outside, Janelle shutting the doors behind them. Releasing Benjin, she seemed to forget about his existence entirely, striding forward and barking orders at the guards and servants.

Taking that as a dismissal, Benjin shuffled to the edge of the chamber where he'd be out of the way. Should he wait here for Haldric or return to his own quarters? What would the prince want him to do?

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he looked up to find the Grand Magus there, wearing a serious expression. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."

They walked quickly, Dexil setting a brisk pace. Once they were in his tower study, he sealed the door with a simple ward, then turned to Benjin, his voice eager.

"Tell me, how did your trip go? Were you able to speak with Percival and retrieve the package?"

Benjin settled a protective hand on his satchel, his gaze narrowing as he studied the Grand Magus. So much had happened since the attack that he hadn't had much time to dwell on the parcel's contents. Still, he had his suspicions. He hadn't quite dared confide them in Haldric—not until he had the chance to confront the Grand Magus himself.

Now, that moment had finally arrived.

"I did," he said, watching Dexil's expression carefully. "However, we ran into some trouble on the road. A group of people claiming to be rebels attacked us and almost killed the prince."

If the Grand Magus had known about the attack, he did an admirable job masking it behind a veneer of shock. "By the Void! Thank the Goddess you're both all right."

"Indeed," Benjin said with feigned casualness. "It was very fortunate. Especially since they seemed to know precisely where to find us. They even had a hex prepared with the prince's blood to block his magic."

Dexil's keen eyes studied Benjin. "Hold on. You're not suggesting I had anything to do with this, are you?"

Benjin shuffled nervously but refused to back down. "You haven't exactly been subtle about your political leanings. Haldric suspects one of the governors, but I can't help but wonder if they really were rebels—ones with a powerful ally."

The Grand Magus offered a derisive snort. "Preposterous! Why would I send my apprentice all that way to fetch something for me, only to orchestrate an elaborate ambush on the return trip? Have I ever given you any reason to believe I wish you harm?"

Some of Benjin's determination faltered. "Well…no. But they seemed surprised to find another mage there. Perhaps you intended to spare me."

"And hurt Haldric instead? The prince is like a son to me! I've watched him grow from an inquisitive boy into the competent young man he is today." Dexil glanced toward the door and raised a brow. "Besides, I just came from the king's bedchambers. Had I wished to murder Roland, I could've done so at any time. Same with Haldric."

Deflating, Benjin bowed his head. "All right, fine. You don't wish me or the royal family harm." He raised his satchel, shaking it by the strap. "Then tell me why you requested the makings of an incredibly potent memory alteration curse!"

Surprise flickered over the Grand Magus' face, so quickly Benjin almost missed it. "That is my business and mine alone." He held out a hand. "Give me the parcel."

Benjin stubbornly clutched the satchel tight against his chest. "Not until you tell me what this is really about."

The usual warmth in Dexil's violet eyes fled, leaving them hard flecks of amethyst. For a moment, Benjin feared the Grand Magus was about to unleash runeflame upon him. Even with his own raw strength and the Grand Magus' preference for potions over battle magic, Benjin doubted he'd be able to withstand an onslaught from the more experienced mage.

Relief flooded him when Dexil simply nodded. His expression turning weary, he sank into a chair, gesturing for Benjin to do the same. "What do you know of my past?"

Benjin hesitantly took the offered seat. "Not much. Only that you studied at the Arcanum and you're lowborn, like me."

"Indeed. I was born in a small town in the western province of Weatheford. My parents were traveling merchants, so I grew up on the road, never staying in one spot very long. They didn't have much, but that didn't stop them from sparing what they could for others whenever we set up shop. Gallants mattered little to them. So long as they had enough to keep us fed and clothed, they were content."

His sad smile tore at Benjin's heart. "I was sixteen when a local baron arrested them. He claimed that they had aided a group of revolting commoners by offering them free food and clothes and had them hung in the village square." His eyes bored into Benjin, his expression pained. "You know something of what that's like, don't you?"

Benjin's gut roiled as he jerked a nod. While his own experience of noble cruelty hadn't been quite as bad, it had still served as a lesson in just how little they cared about anyone they deemed beneath them.

"I sold off everything my parents had left, including their wagon," Dexil continued. "It was the only home I'd ever known, but I couldn't stand staying there without them in it. Those coins bought me a one-way trip to Astralyn, where I worked to earn a spot in the Arcanum. I'd discovered a knack for magic years earlier, you see, while perusing some of the oddities my parents acquired. Though like you, I was capable of little more than parlor tricks before the Arcanum."

His fierce grin radiated pride. "Once I finished my studies, I considered remaining in Astralyn and dedicating myself to alchemical research. Yet, something drew me back to Ilthabard." He chuckled, though something in it sounded off to Benjin. "I suppose some of my parents' ideals must've rubbed off on me. Or perhaps it was nothing so noble. Though I told myself I was there to help the people who needed it most, I accepted a position with the very baron who executed my parents. And…well, let's just say I ensured he would never commit such an atrocity again."

Benjin shivered at the coldness in the Grand Magus' voice. By the Goddess…

"From there, I worked to rise through the ranks of Ilthabard's mages, playing at politics to improve my standing until I met Prince Roland. He gave me a position with the royal family here in Revesole, where I've been ever since."

"Why?" Benjin asked as the Grand Magus fell silent. "Why return to Ilthabard and stay here all these years instead of seeking a fresh start somewhere else?"

"I wanted to help the people of Ilthabard however I could. To better their lives. And from here, I can. My position in the palace affords me the unique opportunity to affect real change."

Unease rippled through Benjin. At last, they'd reached the crux of the matter. "What do you mean by change?"

The Grand Magus' expensive silk robes rustled as he extended his bejeweled hand, twisting it to the side so that his rings glinted in the light. "Do you know why I dress the way I do?"

Benjin blinked, taken aback by the non sequitur. "W-what?"

"It's to remind myself of the decadence I came here to stop. So that I never forget where I've come from, where I am…or where I intend to go." He squeezed his extended hand into a fist, unbothered by the rings that must have been cutting into the flesh of his palm. "When I first arrived at the palace, vengeance still drove me. I wanted to rip out the system that had allowed a monster like that baron to fester. Yet after meeting Prince Roland, I began to doubt my chosen course. Perhaps not all nobles were irredeemable after all. I decided to persuade and guide him—to improve his efforts on behalf of the commonfolk. But while I'm certain my advice has had some manner of impact, it was never enough."

Dexil rose, drifting toward his desk. "And so, I began to make new arrangements. That attack on your caravan might not have been my doing, but you're right in suspecting my involvement with certain…extreme elements. I've spent years now fostering support, maneuvering my pieces into place. The governors think they have things under control. They are wrong. Soon, Ilthabard shall have its glorious revolution, but it will be a far cry from the one Westley and his ilk envision."

Benjin felt sick to his stomach. Dexil had been like a mentor to him, or the father he'd never had. And all the while, he'd been using Benjin to plot Haldric's downfall. Another thought occurred to him, his eyes straying to the half-brewed potions lining Dexil's workstation.

"All those potions you've been giving the king to cure him…there's no Void corruption at all, is there? You've been poisoning him!"

Dexil whirled, his violet eyes flaring. "Of course not! Have you listened to a Void-cursed word I've said? For all his other faults, Roland is my friend. I would never do anything to harm him, nor his son. I've done all I can to prolong his life and ease his suffering, waiting to enact my plan until he dies. As for the prince…" He gestured to Benjin's clutched satchel. "Were you not just wondering why I went through all the trouble of commissioning such a spell?"

"Haldric," Benjin whispered, horror squeezing him.

"Dawnflame's effects on the mind tend to be less harmful and more permanent than the typical runeflame enchantment, so I turned to an old colleague of mine in Khordan to aid me in the development of the perfect ritual. Once the king dies, I'll wipe Haldric's memories and replace them with a new, happy life, banishing him to some far away land to live out the rest of his days in peace. Who knows? Perhaps he'll even become the hero mage he always hoped to be."

Benjin's mind reeled at the revelations. He struggled to process them, shaking his head. "You expect me to believe you'd risk your plans to save Haldric's life?"

Dexil managed to look vaguely insulted. Benjin might've laughed at the absurdity of it if he wasn't so overwhelmed. "I am no wanton murderer, Benjin. The thought of unnecessary bloodshed repulses me. Besides, even if the prince does eventually regain his memories, it won't matter. Once the rebellion has succeeded and there's no one left to rally around him, he won't be a threat."

"What about the nobles?" Benjin demanded. "They'd never willingly relinquish their power."

"Of course not," Dexil scoffed. "But without the royal line—and with the other preparations I've put in motion—the governors will tear themselves apart, bickering and infighting for control until it's too late for them to stop the rising tide. And then, at long last, the people of Ilthabard shall be free."

Benjin's arms trembled as he crossed them, glaring at Dexil defiantly. "And if I run to the prince and confess everything you just told me?"

Dexil snorted. Pointedly turning his back on Benjin, he rested his weathered hands on the edge of his workstation. "Why would you? You want the same things I do. Like me, you know the cruelty of noble rule. We need a better system—a better path."

Uncertainty gnawed at Benjin's resolve. Dexil was right. Hadn't Benjin similarly chaffed at the incompetence of nobles countless times? In fact, he'd probably still feel that way if not for his mixed-up emotions over Haldric.

Despite everything he knew about the prince, Dexil's question from before the Summit remained: would he make a good ruler? Haldric himself had admitted he didn't want the burden of the throne. The happiest Benjin had seen him was when they'd pretended nothing existed except the two of them.

Would it really be so bad to go along with the Grand Magus' scheme? To let the old nation of Ilthabard die and something new rise from its ashes?

His thoughts returned to Haldric, picturing his smiling face, and Benjin bowed his head. Perhaps everything would work out for the best. But he couldn't do that to Haldric…couldn't strip him of that choice.

Dexil must've read the decision on Benjin's face because he heaved a disappointed sigh. "Watching you stand up to the prince the way you did…I hoped you were better than this, Benjin. I truly thought you had the vision to help me."

Feigning a calm he didn't feel, Benjin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, we all make mistakes. So, what now? Are you going to kill me, too? Erase my memories?"

Benjin's pulse quickened as Dexil seemed to consider the proposition, only a fraction of his tension easing when Dexil shook his head. "No need."

The Grand Magus' fingers skirted over a section of his workstation. Glowing chains sprang into existence around Benjin, binding his arms and legs tight against his sides. Within seconds, he'd been restrained and rendered helpless. He hadn't even had a chance to channel his runeflame.

"All I have to do is keep you locked away until I've enacted my plan," Dexil said, striding over.

Benjin struggled against his bonds, but they were too tight. While he managed to draw upon his runeflame, he couldn't direct it without the proper gestures.

"You don't think the prince or anyone else will miss me?" he demanded, continuing his futile struggle.

Dexil paused in front of Benjin to regard him. "Of course they will. But no one will question it when I claim I sent you on some errand. With how his condition has worsened, Roland can't have that long left." He gave Benjin a sympathetic look that only made Benjin fight harder to free himself. "I know confinement for that long won't be…pleasant. But trust me, when it's all said and done, you'll realize it was for the best."

With a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, Dexil levitated Benjin and sent him floating across the room, magical chains and all.

"Don't do this," Benjin begged. "Please. It's not too late for you to reconsider. I know Haldric. He'll listen to your concerns, do all he can to help the people. He'll make a good king!"

Dexil brought Benjin to a halt before an unassuming cabinet. Benjin's stomach sank. He'd drawn ingredients from it enough times to recognize the extradimensional space, its interior enlarged via a spatial Alteration. That must be where the Grand Magus intended to stash him.

"Perhaps he would," Dexil said, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'd prefer not to take that chance."

Benjin let out one last defiant shout as Dexil levitated him into the cabinet, set him down in the enlarged space, and slid the cabinet door firmly shut.