Serpent's Blood (Snakesblood Saga Book 6)

by Beth Alvarez

  “Only one exists, so far as I know. I have studied the girl and her Gift is pure. I would learn more if I could link power with the child, but her power rejects mine, due to the corruption.” Envesi resisted a frown, but her brow still puckered in a way that portrayed a great deal of struggle.

  “And such a rejection would have to be due to the corruption,” Arrick mused. “A bound mage can link with a mage of Aldaan, but to do so would surely mean death.”

  “Without proper safeguards,” she agreed.

  The auditorium fell quiet for a time, only the distant murmurs of magelings walking through the upper tier to keep it from utter silence.

  Arrick’s skin prickled with discomfort. At last, he cleared his throat. “A curious situation. But what does it have to do with my college?”

  Envesi blinked in surprise. “Why, I wish to assist with the college’s efforts to preserve magic. I am unbound and more shall be. There are risks, of course. Some may not survive the change. But I am sure some among your mages will be willing to make the sacrifice so their children may be free.”

  He paled. “I couldn’t ask that of them.”

  “You would be surprised who is willing to lay their life on the line for a cause.” Again she smiled, sweet and genuine, though even that warmth couldn’t melt the ice in her slitted eyes. “Of course, if you are concerned, you are free to experience the change yourself. You are older, but you will find there’s a certain vitality that comes with freedom. You could sire many new mages yet.”

  Pure revulsion made his stomach heave. “I couldn’t.”

  Her icy gaze hardened. “Then you will find some who shall.”

  Arrick bristled. “You have no authority over me, Archmage of Kirban. King Vicamros alone can tell me what I will do.”

  Anger twisted her smooth face and shadows of color moved through her eyes.“Mages will be freed or the college will fall.”

  “If Vicamros wishes the college to fall, then so be it.”

  She fought her agitation. “I’m not sure you understand, Archmage Ortath. I shall explain one more time. I am not here to negotiate. If you refuse to cooperate, I shall have to consider you an obstacle to progress.”

  “Then you may consider me whatever you please, and the alliance between the college and temple shall no longer exist.”

  Envesi regarded him thoughtfully for a time and rested her hands in her lap. “Very well.”

  Energy hummed in the air. Arrick’s hair stood on end as something plucked at him, sending a wave of discomfort through his limbs. He jerked to his feet and the air closed around him, trapping him in place.

  “I’d heard good things about you, Arrick. I had hoped we could work together.” She stared at him, her eyes so empty he thought her soulless.

  Again the power in the air picked at him, and his discomfort was replaced with searing pain. His eyes widened as he realized what she was doing. Singling out a thread of his energy, preparing to pull it out of the weave of his very being.

  “You’re mad!” Arrick choked before the pain gagged him. The world before his eyes darkened and grew hazy as the thread began to come loose.

  “Certainly not,” Envesi protested. “Insanity is thinking any of us would survive without magic to serve us. But no matter. If you will not do what is best for your mages, I will simply have to do it for you. Goodbye, Arrick. The college shall answer to me now.”

  He drew a breath to curse her, but as she tore his energy free and his being unraveled, all he could do was scream.

  4

  Gentle Education

  The air in the auditorium was still, yet pregnant with energy. Traces of every element buzzed in Shymin’s senses, but none so strongly as the power of life. As a mage with a healing affinity, it was the only power she could touch directly.

  She’d often wondered why her affinity was referred to as healing when it was better described as an affinity to life. Healing was the best use of a connection to the life force of all growing things, but it gave her other abilities, too. It let her drink in power and extend her own energy. It could accelerate the growth of living things, such as plants and animals. She’d long suspected she could accelerate the growth of people, too, but such arts were forbidden—as was the power to manipulate the body by coaxing only certain parts to grow.

  Shortly after the corrupted Archmage contacted her, Shymin had asked to attempt use of that forbidden craft, hoping to heal the deformities that came with the taint in Envesi’s magic. The woman had obliged, but appeared unsurprised when the corruption was unyielding. Whatever patches of scales Shymin managed to return to flesh had succumbed again to the foul energies entrenched in the Archmage’s body only moments later.

  She avoided the woman now, giving Envesi a wide berth as she paced around the auditorium. The sensation of life in the room would be the first to fade. It weighed heavy in the air only because of Arrick Ortath’s unmaking. With that knowledge firm in her mind, Shymin’s skin crawled when she moved too close to the place the man had been when it happened.

  “It may have been excessive,” Shymin said at last. Her heart thumped against her ribs and she avoided looking at Envesi, afraid her fear would show through. She’d always been awed by the woman, but this was different. The Archmage had grown unpredictable and her temper was poor.

  But the Archmage also expected her to be truthful, and Shymin wasn’t certain she had it in her to lie when she already felt the cold grip of fear. She’d been spared because she was useful. What if she, like Arrick, outlived her usefulness?

  “He was an obstacle.” Envesi waved a hand in dismissal. “The college will serve us better now that it is under my control.”

  “Opposition isn’t always a sign of an enemy. Many can be corrected with gentle education.” Shymin hoped she sounded confident. Her opinion was not popular among Envesi’s followers, a group that had begun calling itself Giftkeepers. She thought the need for a name was silly, but she wouldn’t ruffle more feathers than necessary. It was hard enough that the Giftkeepers saw her sister as an opponent. Shymin didn’t think Kytenia was wrong in her choice to stand against them; she was merely misguided, like so many others.

  “I appreciate your gentle heart, girl. But we do not have time to educate all of them.” Envesi chuckled softly. “I will have to send a battalion of mages to act as reinforcements here. I will not have the time to manage the college myself. Not yet.”

  Shymin paused mid-stride. “You aren’t staying here?” Why seize control if she didn’t mean to use it?

  “I must return to Ilmenhith. I have to secure my standing there before I can expand my reach.” The Archmage stood and dusted off her white dress. “We have so little time. There are so many other schools I must attend.”

  Worrying her hands, Shymin breathed deep and willed her stomach to settle. “I don’t understand, Archmage. Why did you call me here, if you will be returning to Ilmenhith so soon?”

  “Why, to educate the opposition.” Envesi blinked at her. “Is that not what you just suggested? I may not agree, but I will give you a chance to try, if you desire. The rest of the college council will need to be handled.”

  Shymin’s stomach dropped to her knees and she regretted that she had not taken a seat when the Archmage invited her to make herself comfortable. “But they’re all above me in station!”

  The Archmage looked offended at the suggestion. “Certainly not. You are a Master of affinity and part of Kirban Temple’s council. You answer to your Archmage and your ruler, no one else. I would not expect you to educate King Vahnil, but these people are your peers, dear child. Less than that, if I am leaving the college in your hands.”

  Now Shymin swayed on her feet. Uncaring of how it looked, she staggered to the lowest tier of seating and climbed onto the bench. Her, in charge of the Grand College of Lore!

  “I am honored by your trust.” Her heart tried to choke her. She wished it was for joy at the recognition. Instead, fear clenched her chest and made her lim
bs grow cold. Acting as leader of the Grand College made her second only to the Archmage herself. There was no greater honor. No greater chance for failure.

  “I could choose no one else.” Envesi rose as if to replace her in pacing the auditorium.

  Instead of avoiding the place Arrick had been unmade, the Archmage gravitated to it, tilted her head back and breathed deep, as if savoring the remnants of energy. The world would reclaim them soon, pulling each element back into harmony.

  It was different from when a person died, though Shymin couldn’t put a finger on how. Not for the first time, she wondered what came after death, and how death by being unmade differed. Even mages had no answers for that question.

  “You will be given a short time frame, not because I lack faith in your capability, but because we cannot stretch ourselves too thin.” Envesi strode toward the lectern in the center of the auditorium stage. “I will expect daily reports on your progress. If you cannot convince the remaining members of the college council to support our cause, we shall have to replace them.”

  Shouts rose from an adjacent hallway and Shymin turned toward it, sensing a swell of approaching power. Mages, strong ones, and lots of them.

  “Ah.” The Archmage turned to face the hallway as well. A coy smile danced on her lips, a cold sparkle in her serpentine eyes. “There they are now. Let’s introduce them to their new leader, shall we?”

  Maidservants poked and prodded at Firal until she was ready to scream. Her own staff at home were fussy enough, but they paled in comparison to these girls. They stuffed her in a corset and tightened it until she could scarcely breathe, then swathed her in the layered style of dresses popular in the Royal City. She pined for her own wardrobe, with its cool colors, light fabrics and flowing fit. Worse was pining for her own maids while not knowing if they still lived.

  Firal tried to take comfort in what Vicamros had said, but the memory of his words fell short. An empty kingdom was worthless, but she couldn’t think her people safe when the woman who surely now sat on her throne had tried to kill her own daughter. Firal could only pray Vahn and Lulu remained useful enough to stay safe.

  Ordin regarded her with some amusement when she finally stepped from her private bedchamber and joined him in the suite’s sitting room. From the way he gawked at her, she had to look as foolish as she felt.

  The gown they’d stuffed her in was a tawny brown-green silk, layered over a high-collared ivory brocade undergown and more petticoats than she could stand to look at. Large puffs of fabric protruded from slits in the sleeve both at shoulder and elbow, leaving her to expect the sleeves would have hung to her knees otherwise. The bodice laced up the front with wide brown ribbons, distracting from the way her corset crushed her bosom and left her torso near shapeless. A wrinkle in her shift beneath the boning pinched when she moved, and the voluminous gathers in the skirt made her hips feel twice as wide. The fabric was so heavy she felt like she waddled, rather than walked, which set her hair to swaying atop her head.

  Her black curls were so thick she often wore them down, as it took half a dozen hands to work them into any semblance of order. She’d had that many and more this morning. The maids teased her locks into an absurd swell that bulged from the sides of her head and then pulled it into a fat topknot of a bun, which was netted with pearls and secured with countless pins that dug into her scalp.

  Having observed her exhibit of the mainland’s peculiar fashion sense, Ordin cleared his throat and turned toward the door. “If we’re to stay in the Royal City for an extended period of time, perhaps we can plan a trip to a dressmaker.”

  Firal glared daggers at his back.

  “A message arrived a short while ago. We’re to meet the local court mages for a Gate to the Grand College. Archmage Arrick should be prepared for our arrival by now.” The captain peered into the hallway. If there were any guards on the other side of the door, he gave no indication.

  “I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Firal grumbled.

  “Forgive me, my lady, but it looks as if they’ve laced you so tight you wouldn’t be able to swallow a grape.” Ordin pushed the door wide, revealing the armored men waiting in the hall. “I’m sure the college mages will be happy to provide you with a meal.”

  She studied him from the corner of her eye as she passed. It was the first time he’d called her that. Until now, he’d always referred to her with a title befitting a queen. Did he fail to see her as a leader now? Or did he simply avoid calling her anything that might remind her of their predicament?

  Ordin positioned himself beside her while the group of guards moved ahead. Alira and Rune were to accompany her to the Grand College, though what she was to accomplish there, she wasn’t certain. There was little to be done aside from giving Kytenia and the others orders to keep their heads down while spiriting refugee mages out of the temple, but she supposed they’d expect her to make it a formal command.

  Garam would be somewhere on the southern continent by now, or at least she assumed; he didn’t have to wait for anyone else to prepare, and she didn’t expect he’d have to wait while half a dozen maids stuffed him into an ugly dress.

  Her company moved upward from the guest quarters, guiding her to the mage quarters higher in the Spiral Palace. She began to understand the name. The whole place twisted inside, most of it connected by the long hallway that ran around the building with rooms to either side. There were stairs for shortcuts, but the hallway bore a gentle slope that carried them through each floor eventually.

  Alira waited outside the Gating parlor. She smiled when she saw Firal, though the expression was stiff and formal. The woman had been friendly enough, but there was a shortness to her manner that made Firal think Alira wasn’t comfortable in her presence. Was it because Firal had been the queen to exile her, or was it something else?

  Firal smiled politely in return. “Is Rune here?”

  “Inside. Arguing with the mages.” Alira chuckled and smoothed her robes as her eyes traveled over Firal’s dress. She didn’t say anything about it, but one of her fine white eyebrows quirked upward.

  Firal pretended not to notice. “Whatever for? Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes.” Alira spread her hands and shrugged. “They are having a small disagreement over whether or not he should be present. I am a member of the college, so it’s obviously best that I attend, and the mages from Elenhiise answer to you. It seems the Royal City mages decided that means it is a formal meeting for mage business. He is not a part of the college or temple, so what right does he have to attend?”

  The guards fanned out to let Firal join the mage. She frowned at the closed door. “Is there always this much red tape involved with college business?”

  “Of course.” Alira hid her mouth behind her fingertips, though her eyes crinkled at the corners, betraying her amusement. “It’s only gotten worse beneath Arrick. He’s a good Archmage and the college has performed well beneath him, but he’s always been fond of ceremony.”

  The hushed voices in the Gating parlor went silent. The door opened a moment later and a white-robed woman appeared from behind it.

  “Forgive the delay,” the woman said. “We have reached a conclusion. The Gate will be opened now.”

  “What sort of conclusion?” Alira asked.

  The Master mage cringed. “Though not recognized by the Grand College, King Vicamros II does favor him with the title of mage. The word of the king supersedes the word of the Archmage.”

  “I could have told you as much half an hour ago.” Alira rolled her eyes and picked up her skirts.

  Firal started to follow.

  “Wait!” A familiar voice echoed up the sloping hall and sent a chill down her spine.

  Alira frowned and leaned back from the doorway to see who it was.

  A small entourage of guards lagged behind a lone figure in white, the skirts of her robes hiked halfway to her knees to let her run.

  Kytenia was supposed to be in the Grand Colleg
e, sitting with the college council for the meeting Firal was about to attend. Not running through the Spiral Palace to meet them.

  “What in the world?” Firal started toward her friend, but halted when Ordin put an arm in front of her. She shot him an acid glare, but he wasn’t looking. His eyes were trained on the soldiers behind the Archmage, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  She followed his gaze and her hands tightened in her skirts. The men wore the blue of Lore, rather than the three colored stripes of the Triad. Firal hadn’t even noticed.

  Alira stepped from the Gating parlor, followed by Rune and a pair of disgruntled Masters.

  “Kytenia, what is the meaning of this?” Firal thrust past Ordin to meet her friend and take Kytenia’s hands in hers.

  “It’s Arrick,” the Archmage gasped, leaning into Firal.

  Rune slipped around the guards to join them. He offered an arm for support when it looked as if Kytenia could no longer stand. “What about him?”

  The Archmage lifted her head and leveled her eyes with his. “He’s dead.”

  “It could be taken as an act of war.” King Vicamros paced behind his throne at the far end of the table. His face was calm but he moved like an animal, muscles tightly wound and ready to strike.

  The predatory nature of that movement reminded Firal of Rune. She suspected the king’s pacing was one of the reasons Rune stayed still, leaning against the wall to the side of the room with his arms crossed. She thought they’d clash if they tried to stalk like that at the same time.

  “It wouldn’t make sense.” Councilor Parthanus—the old man in the dark blue robes and odd hat—had joined them again, but the council meeting was smaller than ever.

  The only council members present were Councilor Parthanus, Alira, and Rune. Kytenia was there, as was Ordin, but she was the messenger and he was only there because he refused to leave Firal alone. Firal wasn’t certain why she was there. Perhaps only because she’d been the one Kytenia sought first.