"I'm not certain," Miach said.
"Your eyes are red."
"I said I wasn't sleeping. "
"Are you drinking?"
"Not that either."
Cathar let out a low whistle. "This isn't good. What is troubling you? "
"Besides the obvious?"
"Besides that," Cathar agreed.
Miach considered. If there was a soul he trusted with his innermost thoughts, it was Cathar. They had been close for as long as Miach could remember. Cathar had saved him from all manner of bullying from other brothers until Miach could stand up for himself, then he'd remained there, steady and solid, since that time. His brother was a vault, a silent repository of things that Miach never would have dared tell anyone else. If he could tell anyone what ailed him, it would be Cathar.
"Very well," Miach said seriously, "I will confide in you." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he spoke. "My spells are fading."
"Which ones?"
"The ones of defense," Miach said.
Cathar's mouth fell open. "You jest."
"I don't."
Cathar had a very long pull from his ale. "Defense? You mean those wee bits of magic that keep our border from being overrun by all manner of beasties and evil things sent from black mages we might know? "
"Those bits of magic are not so wee," Miach said dryly, "but aye, those are the spells I fear are being affected. An effect, I might remind you, that I did not author. "
Cathar cradled his mug in his hands. "So? What have you decided to do? Are you going to go find what is wreaking this havoc, or merely wait it out and hope it goes away?"
"I daresay it won't go away. I have the strength to shore up the spells, but it will drain even me eventually." He paused. "I fear this is just the beginning of the assault. And if we are assaulted and it is only my magic we can call on…" He almost couldn't bring himself to voice his next words. "I am concerned about the outcome of that."
"Is it Lothar behind the mischief, do you think?"
Miach paused. "I suspected so, at first, but there is something different about this magic. A faint whiff of a something that is not Lothar's." Miach paused. "Now that I think about it, Adhémar carried that same smell about him after he lost his magic in that battle."
Cathar shook his head. "Impossible. "
"Is it?" Miach mused. "I daresay not."
"Who is doing this?" Cathar asked, stunned. "Who would dare? Who has the power? "
Miach shrugged. "All very good questions I wish I had the answers to. All I know is that I cannot watch the kingdom, maintain my spells, and solve this mystery at the same time. Not without some sort of aid. Even just the smallest bit of it." He looked at Cathar and smiled wryly. "I am stretched rather thin at the moment."
"You look terrible."
"I imagine I do."
Cathar paused and considered. "What will you do, then?"
"We need the Sword of Angesand and the power it will bring. Once that power is seated again here in the kingdom, I will have a bit of leeway to investigate. I must go and hurry Adhémar along. I've heard nothing from him since he left." He scowled. "I wonder if he's actually making a search, or simply searching out all the alehouses between here and Melksham Island."
Cathar laughed. "Aye, I wonder as well. Surely he should have sent some sort of message by now."
"My thought as well."
