Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,254

that doesn’t benefit you.”

“The catch is your conscience. You never do anything that doesn’t benefit the kingdom. So long as that aligns with what benefits me, you will be the finest of servants.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Say that in public and I’ll have you flogged to death. Remember that. I’ll tolerate your suicidal remarks only in private.”

Wearily, Will got to his feet and walked over to the king, then held out his hand. Lognion took it, and Will helped him up. When the king staggered, Will slipped the man’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on. Climbing the stairs is going to take forever. If we stay down here any longer, no good will come of it.”

The journey up did take forever and there was no one in the house above. Will hoped to find assistance in the street, but while the sun was up and shining the street was empty. He resigned himself to a long walk. Everyone must be sheltering at Wurthaven still, he decided.

The half-hour walk took a full hour since they had to stop while Will gave the king some water to drink. Blood loss had rendered the king painfully weak and tired. They passed the gate to Wurthaven on their way to the palace, and Will saw that the bodies from the night before still lay scattered about. He could see the spot where he had left Tiny, but the big man was nowhere to be seen. I hope he’s somewhere safe. There were no people to be seen anywhere.

They continued on to the palace and found it similarly abandoned. Will helped the king into the palace and half-carried, half-dragged the man to his bedchamber. No servants appeared, and since Lognion looked pale and unwell, Will realized he couldn’t simply leave.

He wound up helping the king remove his boots and then propped him up in bed before going downstairs to find the kitchen. An hour later, he returned with a pitcher of small beer and a platter full of sautéed sweetmeats, primarily liver and kidneys. His mother had always told him they were best for people who had suffered a lot of blood loss.

“Did you find anyone?” asked Lognion.

He shook his head. “Eat up.”

They ate together in silence by mutual accord, and when the king was finally done he remarked, “That was well made. You cooked that?”

Will nodded, grunting around a mouthful of food.

“It wasn’t bad. Not quite as good as some I’ve had but—”

Swallowing quickly, Will growled. “I was in a hurry. Nor did I feel like putting in my best effort, considering the patient.”

The king nodded in acceptance. “I pity the cook that works for you then. For there’s no worse critic of a man than someone else who has mastered his craft.”

Will glared at him. “Do you even know what pity is?”

Lognion shrugged. “I understand it as a concept, though I’ve never felt it.”

The day dragged on, and no one appeared. Eventually, Will left and went to Wurthaven, but the entire campus seemed to be deserted without a soul in sight. A quick walk through the city market yielded similar results.

The city was empty. Will couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow arrived at the ritual chamber after the ritual had been performed. Maybe they already wiped everyone out? He didn’t know what sort of ritual had been planned. It was possible that it was designed only to destroy people while leaving the buildings unharmed.

But if that were the case, he would have died as well. Unless they did it right after I entered the house and started down the stairs.

Returning to the palace, he asked the king, who answered, “The ritual I had planned was destructive. The city would be rubble now. They must be alive somewhere.”

Frustrated, Will stayed through the afternoon and cooked a second meal, this time with more thought and planning. Not because he wanted the king’s approval, but simply because he couldn’t bear mediocrity in food. This time the monarch was more plentiful with his praise, and Will refrained from any biting responses. Night fell, and though it was still early, the king