The Prodigal Mage: Fisherman’s Children Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

you, they don’t count. They weren’t important before and they’re not important now.”
    Father leaned forward in his comfortable leather armchair, elbows braced on his knees, his expression keenly hungry. “That’s my point, Ennet. As Sarle so rightly has said, the destruction of Barl’s Wall and the fall of House Torvig—the end of WeatherWorking—that was a moment when our lives could have changed.
Should
have changed. But we allowed ourselves to be overcome by the upheaval. We permitted ourselves to be paralyzed with guilt, over Morg, over Conroyd Jarralt, and Durm. Instead of seizing our chance to become more than what we are, we stepped back. We abased ourselves before the Olken. Instead of consigning that mongrel Asher to Olken oblivion we stood aside and countenanced his elevation to Lur’s hero.
Worse
than that—some of us even championed the brute.”
    Lord Vail and Lord Baden exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Well, to be fair, Rodyn,” said Lord Baden, “he did save us from Morg.”
    “And if he did?” said Father. “I think you’ll find he was merely saving himself. It was chance he saved the rest of us along with him. But even so, should we now, ten years later, continue to afford him authority over our lives?”
    “Are you looking to challenge this latest ruling in Justice Hall?” said Lord Vail. “For I don’t see how you can. If Ain Freidin was indeed experimenting then she’s broken Barl’s Law of Magics. That’s nothing to do with Asher—or any Olken. Any one of us sitting in judgement would have ruled against her.”
    “True,” said Father, and sat back. “Ennet, that is quite true.”
    “This isn’t about Asher, or the Olken, is it?” Lord Baden said quietly. “This is about Barl’s magical prohibitions. This is about what we can and cannot do as Doranen. Am I right?”
    Instead of answering, Father got up from his chair and crossed to the cabinet that held his liquor and costly crystal glasses. Arlin busied himself with his blocks, pretending he wasn’t listening. Pretending he didn’t care, or understand. It was always better when Father forgot his presence.
    “Barl’s Law of Magics,” said Father, pouring brandy for himself and his friends. “I freely concede it served a purpose, once. When we were ruled by a WeatherWorker it served a purpose. Magical restraint was paramount in those days. Nothing could be permitted to disturb the balance lest the Wall be brought down.”
    “And now there is no Wall,” said Lord Vail. “So it follows there’s no need for such restraint? That’s your contention, Rodyn?”
    Smiling, Father handed his friends their drinks. “Is it so outrageous a notion?”
    “You want to experiment, is that it?” said Lord Baden. “Like Ain Freidin? If indeed she has been experimenting. She’s not admitted it.”
    “Not in public,” said Father, returning to his armchair with his own glass. “I’ll know what she admitted to Asher in private once the Mage Council next meets.”
    “Rodyn, my friend, I sympathise with your frustration,” said Lord Baden. “I do. But I can’t bring myself to think there’s anything but danger in the notion of abandoning Barl’s prohibitions against experimental magics. It was Morgan and Barl’s unwise meddling that set our people on the road to ruin. Would you steer us into a second Mage War? When this tiny kingdom is the only untainted place we know, would you risk it for no better reason than you’re bored?”
    Father tossed back his brandy in one angry swallow. “
Bored?
I invite you to my home that we might discuss the future of our people and you call me
bored?
Sarle, I’m insulted.”
    Wincing, Arlin abandoned the training blocks. Lord Baden shouldn’t have said that. He was Father’s friend. Didn’t he know better? Perhaps he thought Father wouldn’t shout because they were both men.
    “I’m sorry you feel that way, Rodyn,” said Lord Baden. “It wasn’t my intent to insult you.