Chapter Thirty-One
In a small, little-used chamber on the third floor of the guild’s easternmost wing, the guild master stared at the shackled form of his strongest water mage while the Mistress of the Earth and the Mistress of the Air looked on.
An inhuman howl erupted from Toreg’s lips, and the man convulsed violently against the constraints that held him. Over and over, he thrashed, threatening to tear his own flesh in his efforts to get free.
Standing on Regecon’s left, Ambrisia watched the struggling water mage. After a moment, she began to chant in a low voice, then made several quick gestures in the air.
The stone slab on which the water mage lay twisted again, undulating along all its length. A thick band of stone arose, encircling the sorcerer’s neck and securing his head. Another followed, wrapping around the wizard’s waist.
Regecon nodded appreciatively. “Hands, feet, neck, and waist. Very good, Ambrisia.”
The earth sorceress wiped a stray lock of hair from before her eyes, then nodded in return. “An ogre wouldn’t be able to break those bonds; they are stronger than steel.”
“We aren’t dealing with ogres, Ambrisia. We’re dealing with vampires.”
Ambrisia grudgingly looked away. Regecon understood. By now, she had heard the news of the almost capture of Drasmyr just two nights past. Almost capture, because the vampire had done the unthinkable—he’d broken an earth hand that had held him. As the Mistress of Earth Magic, she was bound to take that event a little too personally. Her voice sounded distant, perhaps even cold. “Lucian is very old. These measures will suffice for Toreg—he’s not really a complete vampire yet anyway, he’s something in between.”
“I know,” Regecon said, returning his gaze to the water mage. Despite the unbreakable restraints, the man still struggled. He trembled and strained against the stone, flushing his face and quickening his breath, all to no avail. Ambrisia’s bonds still held, secure enough to prevent him from any injury. Realizing this, the man howled in impotent rage and gnashed his teeth in fury. He spat forth drool and mucus, mixed with bright red flecks of his own blood. He might still be a living, breathing, human being, but the sharpening of those two teeth in his mouth was a telling sign.
Shaking his head, Regecon turned away to confront Jacindra. The elder woman quivered at his glare and dropped her gaze to the floor. She seemed to shrink inward, as if trying to crawl inside her own flesh to hide from his judgment. Her face flushed crimson in shame.
She should be ashamed, Regecon thought, withholding information like that from me. She should have told me what she had known from the start. But would it have done any good? Where would they be now, if he had learned of Lucian’s existence a day or two sooner? A day or two closer to completing the binding rings, that’s where. “Jacindra. You deliberately withheld information from the council and myself, information that may have prevented several tragedies. Do you deny this?”
Jacindra straightened, finding some reserve of self-esteem and inner strength. “No, I do not, Guild Master. I only wish that you consider the circumstances of threat to my own life, and the fact that I have finally come forward. Please, show clemency.”
“This is not a formal hearing, Jacindra. Such will have to take place before the whole council.”
Ambrisia lifted an eyebrow, then motioned toward Toreg. “I believe, Guild Master, you and I are all that is left of the council.” She eyed Jacindra. “At least, the only ones who would have a say in this particular matter.”
Regecon glanced toward Ambrisia, preparing an irritated reply, then stopped. She was right. Morcallenon was dead, and Toreg incapacitated. Jacindra could not be involved in any hearing regarding punishment for her own actions, and that left it up to Ambrisia and himself. He almost laughed. Some council. Two people, and himself with the deciding vote. The fire mage glanced back to Toreg, writhing on the slab of stone. “Under the current circumstances, I urge that any formal hearing on this matter be postponed until the end of the week ... until after we have dealt with Drasmyr.” He met Jacindra’s eyes. “We need you alive and unhindered, more than we need you imprisoned. Ambrisia, do you concur?”
Ambrisia hesitated, taking a final look to weigh Jacindra in mind. “I agree. Let any hearing wait until a later, more convenient time. She has come forward, we can trust her through this. In the meantime, let us turn our attention to other things. Such as Toreg.” She motioned to the stricken mage. “And my student, Marissa.”
Regecon nodded. “When did you say Marissa disappeared?”
“Early this morning. After sunrise.”
The guild master passed a puzzled look in Ambrisia’s direction. “After? Vampires can’t move about in the day.”
“I know. That makes it all the more puzzling. I summoned her to my chambers for a small chore early in the morning. It didn’t take much time, so I let her leave when she finished. Several hours later, I required her assistance again and she was nowhere to be found.”
“Might I suggest something?” Jacindra interjected, a little hesitantly.
“Go ahead, you haven’t been stripped of your council seat yet.” Regecon felt a twinge of regret as he spoke, then shoved it aside. He still felt angry, and he wasn’t entirely certain she could be trusted. She had betrayed them after all. Perhaps it was a mistake to delay her trial. Perhaps justice should be delivered here and now, swift and severe; but there was no one else of comparable skill with air. Although that discipline played a minor part in the spell they were preparing, it was crucial nonetheless. They had to trust her. There was no other choice.
Red of face, Jacindra cleared her throat, then spoke. “News of the vampire has spread throughout the guild. Many of the common servants have decided to leave, even some of the guards. It is possible that she decided to flee.”
Regecon turned to Ambrisia.
“She would have told me,” Ambrisia replied, “or Toreg, here. After all, they are cousins. She has much to lose by leaving this place.”
Jacindra’s voice was flat. “She may have decided she had more to lose if she stayed.”
Ambrisia started to respond, but Regecon forestalled her. “That is one possibility, Jacindra. Let’s ...” He paused, his thoughts turning to Morcallenon again. It was times like this when he would often turn to Morcallenon and his art for answers no one else could provide. Not anymore. The man was dead. Dead. It was a cold feeling in Regecon’s breast. He’d faced death before, but never like this. The presence of the vampire was turning everything into a bad nightmare with people dying every time he turned around. It was too much for one man to deal with. Too much.
No! Regecon grew resolute. He would not bend, he would not yield. Everything has a price. Existence is a toil of sweat and blood and Death is the price of friendship. “Check with Porthion,” he said. “See if he can locate her. In the meantime, we should also check with any of the friends she has among the other students. Perhaps they might know what became of her.”
“Yes, Korina knew her,” Ambrisia said. “I’m not sure if I would call them friends, but they did speak together on occasion. I know of a few others as well.”
“Good. I’ll also send a couple of guards to search the guild. It is possible, however unlikely, that she injured herself in one of the lesser-used sections and has been unable to make her way back.”
Ambrisia nodded, then motioned to Toreg. “And what shall we do about him?” The man had finally stopped his struggles, but his eyes held an alien glaze. There was a trace of something in the way he looked, something they’d never seen before: madness and perhaps even malevolence.
“Korina said she knew enough about water from her own studies that she could complete the jar herself. It only has to hold Drasmyr for an hour or so,” Regecon said.
“That’s not what I mean,” Ambrisia said. “What of Toreg?”
“But that is precisely my point: he’s not a vampire yet. If we destroy Lucian, he may yet be saved.” Regecon ground his teeth together; he had no des
ire to countenance the alternative. He and Toreg had never been friends, but he had never considered the man an enemy. If he had to kill him ... No, he could not order his death. To kill him like this would be unthinkable. “We shall post a guard to keep watch, perhaps even Mathagarr, and fill the room with garlic. The garlic should keep Lucian from returning—we certainly don’t need him making the conversion complete.”
Jacindra folded her arms across her chest. “If he does change? If he crosses over?”
Regecon shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “By All that is Holy, I just don’t know.”
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 64