37. A Subtle Magic: Uther

                                    

                                              
Uther didn't realize how isolated he'd been from the world until he'd seen the guards' barely veiled loathing. These were Arniel's men, and they feared him while simultaneously managing to hate him to the core of his being. Arniel's sudden reappearance from the apparent dead and fanaticism about going to the dungeons didn't reassure them. Not that that it was meant to. With Arniel's reputation, Uther didn't blame them for their fears. He didn't like the idea at all, but he wanted out of this place. It was his uncle's keep and being mistaken for his uncle, while understandable, horrified him. The people here were strangers to him, but his uncle's reputation wrapped around him like a miasma. They'd never see him for anything besides their cruel lord, which made his heart sink.

                          
We're going to find Arniel's spells, Septimus will figure out how he did this, and then we'll get my body back, he told himself. His uncle stole his life, and he could taste the hope of regaining it mingled with his fear of descending down into the bowels of his uncle's keep.
                          
It was Septimus, him, and the two guards now. Teague looked like he was about to be sick, but the older guard wore a careful expression. He cooperated with Septimus, even if the old guard didn't trust them. He couldn't blame the man really. A known evil wizard and a wizard who used blood magic to bind them weren't going to be popular guests anywhere or with anyone.

                          
They stopped in front of another set of iron doors that were the equals of the ones leading to Arniel's chamber. Uther frowned and gave a stiff nod.
                          
"Looks like his style," Septimus muttered. Without being asked, Uther removed his knife and sliced a clean slit in his palm. The door quivered and opened under his touch.
                          
Uther gestured to the bearded guard to lead the way. The man glanced at Septimus and took a hesitant step forward, his body under his own power again. He glanced at Uther and said, "It's a strange day, needing to show you around the dungeons. I thought you knew them well."
                          
Uther's face passed through a rictus of emotions. He managed to stammer, "It's been a long day...really much longer than a day."
                          
Septimus swept his hand, forcing Teague to march after the older man. Uther frowned, feeling sorry for the boy. He didn't like that Septimus kept him, even if he guessed why. He's easy to control, and he's insurance for good behavior, Uther thought. It made him sick, and the worries he'd assuaged about Septimus and his growing powers burst anew, translating into a wriggling in his gut. To him, Septimus was a cynical but good-hearted bookbinder with a mind keen enough to be a wizard.
                          
Except he uses blood magic now, a sinister part of Uther's brain whispered.
                          
Be quiet, you, Uther told himself.
                          
"What's your name?" Uther asked the old man as they descended further into the dark, which was illuminated only by the two torches carried by the guards in the front. Teague's torch vibrated, shaking in fear, and the light wavered and cast sporadic shadows like epileptic phantoms.
                          
"Torcaill, sir," the old guard said, his voice low and gruff. "Been in this garrison here fourteen years."
                          
"You, ugh, liked it?" Uther asked.
                          
Torcaill cast him a suspicious glance. After a moment, he said, "We don't have a choice. We go where we're assigned. You ain't military, sir, so I don't expect you to know this."
                          
"He's a Lifer," Septimus said, his voice cutting and dry. Uther cocked an eyebrow. He'd never heard the term.
                          
The man gave a nod. He said, "Aye, that's fair enough. This life's the only one I've got a talent for. The way I see it, some folks don't have much of a choice in what they do. Somethings just find you."