That said, the princess took Merry’s arm and bustled her out the door.
Chapter 18
Damon
“Freezing the Brenavon?”
Damon sat back in his chair, stroked his chin, and stared at the young king.
“How did you manage to fool so many people into thinking you were an idiot?”
“It wasn’t hard.”
Damon laughed, spraying a mouthful of watered wine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“My mother helped,” Dârio continued. He leaned against the corner of his writing desk closest to Damon, sighed, and crossed his long legs.
“She’s in on your subterfuge?”
“Not at all,” said Dârio. “My vain, venal, and manipulative mother has been telling everyone in court she’s the real ruler of Dâron ever since my father and great-grandfather died two years ago.”
He refilled Damon’s goblet from the pitcher on his sideboard.
“She’s the one spreading stories about my capricious moods and poor judgment. I just decided to play the part she chose for me. I’d hoped it would entice Tamloch into attacking us sooner rather than later, since they can’t train new wizards easily.”
“Since the mines in the Green Mountains played out,” said Damon, half to himself. “I sense the delicate touch of Queen Carys at work.”
Dârio smiled back, revealing nothing—and everything.
“Your hope was well-founded, it seems,” said Damon. “Tamloch does appear ready to attack us.”
“If sending five-hundred dragonships to sack Brendinas counts as an attack,” said Dârio.
“It would for most kings,” said Damon.
The two men grinned.
“I’ll need a map of the river,” said Damon.
“Which I happen to have on my desk,” said Dârio, retrieving a parchment from behind him.
The young king and the master mage held the map in front of them, considering options for stopping the Bifurlanders like two old friends deciding where to travel for a holiday.
Chapter 19
Fercha and Doethan
“Now what?” asked Doethan as he and Fercha stood to one side of the legions and watched the first ranks of soldiers march through the gate to Dâron. A privacy sphere shimmered around them.
Fercha was lost in thought, half-hypnotized by the rhythm of the legionnaires measured paces. Doethan touched her arm.
“Is it time to go back to Brendinas? I’m concerned the Conclave’s in-fighting will get out of hand without adult supervision.”
“You’re taking your role as nominal head of the Conclave far too seriously,” said Fercha, pulling herself away from wherever her mind had wandered. “Remember, you’re not herding house cats—you’re trying to keep a squawk of angry gryffons from following their nature.”
“So I shouldn’t try to lead the Conclave?”
“I didn’t say that. Someone has to keep them in line, and you’re elected. But you shouldn’t get your hopes up for civilized behavior.”
“I harbor no illusions,” said Doethan. “The members of the Conclave often elect the person to lead them that most of them think they can browbeat.”
“Though not in your case. You were selected because the various factions saw you as a potentially fair referee.”
“Won’t they be surprised,” said Doethan. His face looked like he’d bitten into a particularly sour persimmon.
“Maybe it is best if you return directly to the capital,” said Fercha.
“And where will you be going?”
“Riyas.”
“You can’t leave me to cope with the machinations of the Conclave on my own,” protested Doethan. “I need you to hold them down while I beat them with a club.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” said Fercha.
“Or be managed,” said Doethan. “I was counting on your vote—and your unique approach to diplomatic persuasion.”
“Threaten a fellow wizard with immolation once and you never live it down.”
“It was hardly just a threat. You burned off half his beard.”
“The randy goat deserved it,” said Fercha. “He’s lucky I didn’t burn off the hair somewhere else.”
“As I said—your unique approach.”
“Taxing hedge wizards for healings, charms, and potions was one of the most ludicrous ideas I’d ever heard.”
“Most of our colleagues agreed with you,” said Doethan. “And now many of them fear you—or fear crossing you, anyway.”
“I like to think I command their respect.”
“You do,” said Doethan. “And that makes us a good team. I’ll need your help when it comes to getting the others to follow their assignments in the war effort.”
“I understand,” said Fercha. “I’ll try to get back as fast as I can. Princess Gwýnnett’s faction will be hard to handle even with me around to knock heads—metaphorically, of course.”
“Of course,” said Doethan. “Say hello to Verro for me.”
“What makes you think I’m going to Riyas to see…”
Doethan smiled at her.
“Right. I am that transparent,” said Fercha. “Maybe if I can talk to him I can defuse tensions and get this war called off before the first blows are struck.”
“Hah,” said Doethan. “It’s more likely you’ll be taken prisoner, leaving me at the mercy of Gwýnnett’s faction.”
“The princess is not one of your favorite people,” said Fercha. It was a statement, with no hint of a question. “Has she done something particular to earn your ire of late?”
“Other than trying to slip potions of compliance into Dârio’s meals, you mean?”
“Hasn’t she been doing that for the past two years?”
“Yes, but now she’s trying to get him to marry her sister’s daughter.”
“His first cousin? Just to keep power in her family?”
Doethan nodded, then slowly shook his head from side to side.
“There’s more?” asked Fercha. “I don’t think anything that woman does would surprise me. She’s capable of anything.”
“True,” said Doethan. “Since you’re going north to talk to Verro, I should tell you the rest of it.”
Fercha glanced around and saw Mafuta and Felix near the gate ensuring its integrity. She made the sphere of solidified sound protecting their privacy opaque as well as soundproof.
“Tell me,” said Fercha. “It might give me some leverage.”
Doethan laughed. “It will at that,” he said. “Do you remember when Derry had to move from his estates in the east to the Rhuthro valley?”
“Of course. That was the same time you came west as well and built your tower. Eighteen or nineteen years ago.”
“Did you ever wonder why we left Brendinas?”
“The story for public consumption at the time was that you wanted to get away from court and Conclave politics,” said Fercha. “Though the gossip around the palace was that the two of you had royally ticked off Princess Gwýnnett for some unknown reason. I was young and naïve enough at the time to believe the first version.”
“The gossip was more accurate,” said Doethan. “As a soldier, Derry had ceremonial duties in the palace along with tending his estates. By chance, he was assigned to guard the princess while her husband, Prince Dâri, was on a hunting trip to the mountains.”
Doethan paused.
“Go on,” urged Fercha, glad they couldn’t be seen by anyone around them.
“Derry heard interesting sounds from inside the royal chambers and contacted me using a ring I’d given him. I was close at hand in the palace library and came immediately.”
“Who was her lover?” asked Fercha. “A groom? A noble?”
“A prince,” Doethan answered. “Derry wanted to make sure the princess wasn’t being taken against her will, though I told him it certainly didn’t sound like it. We made our way to the servant’s entrance to her chambers by side corr
idors. I unlocked the service door with magic. We entered, stood behind a curtain, and peered around it. Derry and I saw enough to identify the man.”
Fercha had a pained expression.
“Tell me,” she said. “Was it Verro?”
“No,” said Doethan. “Verro wasn’t in court.”
“Then who?” Fercha demanded.
“King Túathal, then Prince Túathal. You were there when the royal delegations from Tamloch first came to Brendinas.”
“I was,” said Fercha. “I have a permanent reminder of that visit.”
“This was their second, after Dâri had married Gwýnnett. Don’t you remember how the princess flirted with Túathal?”
“I’d left court by then, shortly after the first visit from Tamloch royalty, if you’ll recall,” said Fercha. “I was in Melyncárreg coping with an energetic three-year-old by the time of their second visit. I only heard about Gwýnnett flirting with Túathal second hand.”
“That’s right,” said Doethan. “I forgot. You left and got as far away from Brendinas as you could manage.”
“With good reason,” said Fercha. “Court is no place to raise a child.”
“As young Dârio knows all too well,” said Doethan. “Have you told Verro about Nûd?”
“No, and I don’t plan to,” said Fercha. “It’s bad enough you know. I shouldn’t have told you all those years ago…”
“My lips are sealed,” said Doethan, cutting her off.
“Thank you,” said Fercha, clasping her hands in front of her chest and bowing slightly. “What happened afterward? All I know is you and Derry were my new neighbors shortly after I moved from Melyncárreg to the Rhuthro valley. My friends at court and Conclave didn’t have much to tell me, and the two of you weren’t talking.”
“What do you think happened? We told Queen Carys and she advised us it was best to get as far away from Brendinas as we could manage. She arranged for a new barony for Derry and funds to help me build my tower close by upriver.”
“Now it all makes sense,” said Fercha. “And Prince Dârio arrived on the scene…”
“…nine months later. Exactly,” said Doethan. “I confirmed it with a consanguinity spell when he was born.”
“You always were interested in hedge-wizard magic.”
“It helped me play the part while in exile.”
“Why did you come back to Brendinas and take such a public role on the Conclave, then?” asked Fercha. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to stay out of sight in the west?”
“That was the old queen’s idea,” said Doethan. “Having me around reminds Gwýnnett that Carys has something on her.”
“Thank goodness Queen Carys is keeping her hand in,” said Fercha. “I’m much happier being part of her faction than the alternative.”
“Supporting the princess isn’t an option,” said Doethan. “I’d go into permanent exile before serving Gwýnnett.”
“Now you’re sounding like Damon.”
“He was motivated by love—my motivation would be the opposite.”
Fercha inclined her chin and brought it back up. She returned to the same unfocused, half-hypnotized look she’d had earlier. After a few seconds her face changed, and her eyes lit up with newfound knowledge.
“Dârio’s not the rightful king,” she said.
“You have been paying attention.”
“And that means…” Fercha began.
“That can wait until later,” Doethan interrupted. “Go to Riyas. Find Verro. See if you can talk him and King Túathal out of this war—which I doubt—and get back here as soon as you can.”
“Right,” said Fercha.
The opaque bubble around them faded like dew on a summer day. Fercha confirmed her flying disk was still on her back. She inserted herself into a space between ranks of legionnaires marching through the gate and was on the other side in a heartbeat. Doethan waved at her, but she was already on her disk flying north toward a gate to Riyas somewhere in Brendinas.
He fiddled with a ring on his left little finger and had a brief, but productive conversation with a friend and ally. Inthíra would get the word out to Dâron’s crown and free wizards to assemble.
Reluctantly, after waving to Mafuta and Felix, Doethan waited for a gap between cohorts and trudged through the gate’s interface. It was time to return to the capital and cope with the Conclave.
Chapter 20
Nûd and Eynon
“Nûd?” said Eynon, then repeated it louder, “Nûd!”
There was no response. Nûd’s end of the extra-long scarf they’d used to anchor themselves to Rocky’s broad back was flapping in the wind. Eynon hoped his friend hadn’t been trying to get out his crossbow to fight off their attackers and untied the scarf around himself in the process. He leaned to the right—Nûd’s side—as far as he could without untying his own end of the scarf, but couldn’t see anything except a long way down to a stretch of brown fields. There wasn’t even a convenient lake, river or stream Nûd might have landed in, though Eynon realized, after a moment, that any such body of water would have been at least a mile behind them.
Chee was only a step away from pure panic. The raconette was still on top of Eynon’s head, using Eynon’s ears like the handles on a heavy cast-iron pan. Rocky was flying straight and level, continuing their previous course, even without the tasty ball of solidified sound Eynon used to guide him. The wyvern’s head was moving back and forth like a batsnake considering a mouse, scanning the fluffy white clouds above for signs of the small gold dragons who’d attacked them.
Chortles of high-pitched laughter came from inside the nearest cloud.
Those murdering dragon-riding thieves were still close by, thought Eynon. His red magestone pulsed and glowed. Eynon felt blood rush to his face and sensed his heart pounding in anger now, not fear.
They killed my friend and stole the gold we’d collected to save Dâron from the Bifurland invaders. It’s time to teach them the folly of attacking a wizard!
Eynon reached up and slowly removed Chee’s claws from his ears. He stroked Chee’s fur to calm him, then lifted the little beast over his head and tucked him into a hollow at the base of Rocky’s neck. The raconette wrapped both his small arms around the nearest bony projection and held on, reflexively stuttering out a nervous chi-chi-chi-chee.
Eynon rubbed Chee’s velvet-like fur, then reached over his head again and felt the reassuring smoothness of his flying disk on top of his pack. He tugged at it and the disk came free. Eynon held it tight in one hand while untying the knot in the scarf holding him in place with the other. When he was no longer tethered to Rocky’s back, he generated a plane of solidified sound above him the same color as the wyvern’s hide to disguise his movements, shifted his chest until it rested on top of his flying disk, and ascended to enter the clouds.
It wasn’t easy to see inside the nearest cloud. Drops of water coated his body and ran down the back of his neck. Eynon took a deep breath to help him think and realized he didn’t have to put up with that sort of annoyance—he was a wizard. He generated a thin wall of solidified sound close to his skin to keep the moisture away and used a tiny fraction of the heat his red magestone could channel to dry himself off.
Now if I can only figure out how to see, Eynon considered. He remembered the lenses that helped him get a closer view of things far away and called on the stored wisdom of his blue magestone to craft a set of them. They didn’t help—vision inside the cloud was so constrained that far away and close at hand were much the same.
Eynon wondered what it would take to see inside a cloud and suddenly he could. Everything around him was indistinct and had a red tinge, but he could make out twelve dragons flying ahead of him with twelve small human forms on their backs.
Eynon said a silent thank you inside his head to both his magestones. He didn’t know which one had responded to his thoughts, but he was pleased with the results. Now he could do something. Eynon moved a few feet up and got closer to t
he dragons. He could hear their riders talking and laughing.
“Did you see that boy’s head, Sigrun?” asked one. “Was that a baby raccoon?”
“Or some other strange southern animal,” replied a voice Eynon assumed belonged to Sigrun.
“Maybe it was a monkey?” said a third rider. “My uncle saw one when he went across the Ocean.”
“No one cares about your uncle and a monkey on the other side of the world, Rannveigr,” said a slightly deeper voice.
“Hah hah, hah, Holgir—you’re a monkey!” said Rannveigr.
“Am not!” said the slightly deeper voice that must be Holgir.
“The dark-haired one was cute,” said another girl.
“Good thing you caught him,” said Sigrun.
“It’s a long way down,” said the first voice.
Nûd was alive? Where was he?
The new lenses somehow showed living creatures fairly clearly. They glowed, even through the hats and furs the riders were wearing. Nûd’s large body wasn’t on the back of any of the dragons. Where was his friend?
Eynon’s anger began to grow again, then he realized the dragon riders were girls and boys younger than his little sister. He reined in his emotions, given that Nûd hadn’t fallen to his death. He didn’t know if the attack had been serious or sport, but either way he wanted to find his friend, recover the gold, and be on his way. If he could teach the young dragon riders a lesson in the process, so much the better.
Drawing on the power of his red magestone, Eynon warmed the air around him, like a small sun burning inside a whitewashed room. Seconds later, the cloud surrounding him—and the dragon riders—had evaporated. His special lenses, no longer needed, were gone as well. The dragon riders—most with long blonde braids and conical leather hats—turned their mounts to see what had vaporized their hiding place.
Eynon stood tall on his flying disk and expanded the protective shell around his body a few inches, turning its color red-gold. He used more energy from his red magestone to generate crackling flames around him and shaped a transparent cone of solidified sound in front of his mouth to amplify his voice.
The Congruent Wizard (The Congruent Mage Series Book 2) Page 12