Essence of Chaos

by Marie Andreas

  “What’s happened?” Maggie’s booming voice cleared a circle around the injured men.

  Jenna’s heart lightened at the sight of the solid healer. “They were found outside Irundail. Ghortin said Sir Edgar has a head wound that’s not visible and they both have broken bones.”

  “Bring them in here.” Maggie held open a door for the stretcher-bearers. “I’m not sure what you can do for them now, child. They probably won’t be waking for a while, not if I can help it. The best healers have been notified. I can call for you in your rooms if anything happens.”

  Maggie had couched it politely, as if she was asking Jenna if it was all right if she was excluded. But Jenna knew it wasn’t a question. She also knew she heartily agreed with the healer.

  “That would be fine,” she said steadily, keeping the relief out of her voice. “I’ll be waiting in my rooms in case you need me.” With a nod, she hastily vacated the crowded room and headed straight for her rooms in the castle.

  She hadn’t realized how tired she was until she sat down on her bed. That little translocation trick Ghortin pulled had saved the men quite a bit of discomfort, if not more. But it certainly took its toll on her. For the first time since Ghortin had popped in her head two months ago, Jenna truly realized that it was her Power that he used when he worked magic.

  She had assumed that when he took over, that it was him doing all the work. If she hadn’t been so tired, the realization probably would have greatly disturbed her. As it was, she shoved it to the back of her mind with all the other waiting worries, and then slid off to oblivion.

  A soft but insistent tapping at the door roused her from her dreamless slumber. She jumped up at first, thinking it might be a summons from Maggie, but then stopped. If the healer needed her, the summons wouldn’t be quite so subtle.

  She wandered to the door, trying to clear the sleep from her brain. She patted down her mass of sleep-tossed hair and debated again whether to get rid of the excess length. For some perverse reason, she felt changing anything else of this new body of hers would be unfair to the poor former owner.

  “Thank the stars.” Keanin barged in. “I was beginning to think you’d run away or something.”

  Jenna shook her still fogged head. “No, I took a nap. That thing that Ghortin pulled wore me out.”

  Keanin didn’t seem to be listening as he strode over to her set of chairs and held one out for her. “So I gathered from your appearance. Here, my lady, you don’t look quite yourself yet.”

  Jenna sat down gratefully. Being jolted out of sleep like that was never her favorite way of waking. “Did Maggie send you?” She was still sorting out who was where in her head.

  “No. Actually, when I tried to go into the House of Healing, she had one of her people chase me over here. I was hoping you might have some answers.”

  “What? The great Keanin wanting to get in the middle of something?” She stretched, trying to get the rest of her body awake.

  “I didn’t say that. I always want to know what’s going on, I just don’t want to get involved in it. Too easy to get injured that way.”

  “Oh, fine. But someday you’re going to find something you’ll have to get involved with.”

  The kelar shook his head. “Don’t you be laying curses on me; I’m your friend, remember? Now what’s happened? That was Tor Ranshal and Sir Edgar I saw through the crowd, wasn’t it?”

  Jenna nodded. “Yes, but I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. After Ghortin and I got them here, Maggie all but chased me out too.” One of her stifled worries came back. “I think Ghortin may have overdone himself this time. He vanished right after the transfer was finished.”

  “Hey, no long faces around me.” He leaned forward, taking hold of one of her hands. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Keanin screamed and jumped forward.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” Jenna jumped to her feet but couldn’t see any injuries.

  Keanin turned red. “Sorry if I startled you, but our friend here startled me.” He reached up into his hair and pulled out a small, chattering scree. His response had startled it as well and the small creature was scolding him most thoroughly. He handed it over to Jenna.

  “She must be from Maggie.” She looked around the furry thing for a note or message. “Well, Ivan, do you have something for me?” She didn’t expect an answer and almost dropped the poor thing when it spoke.

  “Mistress Maggie requests your attendance in the Healing House.” The creature’s voice was high pitched and distant.

  “How did she…” She held the scree up, searching for any sort of mechanism.

  “That’s how scree relay messages. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never been privy to one giving its message before. They repeat words trained into them. I don’t think they’ve the intelligence to understand what they’re saying though.”

  The scree turned and resumed scolding Keanin in its own language. Jenna started laughing, careful not to jolt the creature still sitting in her hand.

  “I’d say she’s smart enough to know when she’s being insulted.” She petted the chattering animal with a forefinger. “It’s okay, Ivan. You’ve done a good job, you can go now.”

  The scree rumbled gratefully at the petting, then flew off through the open window.

  “Shall we go? You did say you wanted to know what was going on, didn’t you?”

  Keanin nodded. “You’ve got me. Just don’t let me volunteer for anything dangerous.”

  Jenna waited until they were out of the castle before she tried reaching for Ghortin. She didn’t want people watching her while she was looking around in her head. Unfortunately, she got no response. A slight surge from the echo in delayed recognition to the scree, but no mastermage. She kept her attempt, and the lack of results, from Keanin.

  Keanin noticed anyway. “What’s wrong?” He peered at her closely. “You tried reaching Ghortin, didn’t you?”

  Jenna looked away, then finally nodded. “Nothing. Please don’t say anything to anyone, not even Maggie. I don’t want to give them more things to worry about.”

  Maggie and two other healers were closed in around a bed as they entered the room. A single healer monitored a still form in the second bed. Moving closer, Jenna recognized the wan face of Sir Edgar. He looked better than he had a few hours ago, but his short black hair sharply accented his thin, pointed face and the unhealthy pallor on his normally dark skin.

  Maggie noticed them at that moment. “Come in, dear. Someone has been asking to see you.” She stood back a bit and motioned them forward.

  Tor Ranshal’s face was waxen, but he managed a smile. “Ah, child. I’m so glad to see you again.”

  Jenna moved closer. It was more than a little disturbing to see the formerly energetic old man look so ill. She never had found out how old he was, but right now he looked older than Ghortin’s three thousand years.

  “How are you feeling?” She could see the answer, but it was the first thing that came out.

  “As good as can be expected,” he said. “I hear I have you to thank for getting us up here?”

  “Ghortin actually.” She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out. She hadn’t wanted to bring him up. More than likely Tor Ranshal would want to speak to his old friend as soon as possible. How could she tell any of them, least of all him, that she couldn’t find the mastermage floating in her head?

  Tor Ranshal’s golden eyes sparkled, giving his face a hint of its former vitality. “Ah, but I’m sure you were the driving force. Let that scamp go play somewhere else. I want to enjoy your company.”

  Jenna briefly wondered how the old man had known, then brushed it off. Tor Ranshal was familiar with magic and the strain it took. He must have known that either she or the mage would be tired.

  “What happened? Why were you two out there?” The questions blurted out of their own accord.

  “That’s a tale that will be long in the telling, my lady.” He looked up at Maggie. “Would you be so kind as
to find chairs for all? I’ve much to tell, and it may take—”

  “Tor Ranshal? What are you doing here?” Everyone in the room turned at the new voice. Storm glared at them from the doorway. He looked pale, especially still wearing the long, heavy, white hospital tunic, but he was standing without trouble. “And why didn’t anyone tell me?” The last was pointedly directed at Maggie.

  Maggie deflected it with a flick of her hand. “Until I say you’re fit to leave, you’re no more than another one of my patients. You need rest, not updated reports of comings and goings.” She held firm for a moment, then relented with a sigh. “But since you’re here, you might as well stay.” She flagged down a passing apprentice healer. “Get us some chairs if you would, and bring a blanket for his highness.”

  Storm looked sharply at her tone, but continued into the room nonetheless. His movements weren’t as graceful as usual, but for a man who’d been resting in bed for a month, he was moving exceptionally well.

  “Tor Ranshal and Sir Edgar arrived a few hours ago. The seneschal just awoke.”

  Storm turned away from Maggie, noticing the still figure on the other bed for the first time. “Is Edgar all right?”

  “He will be. We’ve treated his internal injuries and both of their external ones.” She faced Tor Ranshal with a heavy frown. “Which reminds me; I will cut this so short it will make heads spin if I think you’re tiring yourself out. Am I understood?”

  The smile that graced the ancient man’s face was warm. “Of course, mistress, I will abide by your rules in your House.” He shot a wry glance over to Storm who neatly refused to catch it.

  The chairs, and a woolen blanket for Storm, were brought in, and Tor Ranshal settled in for his tale.

  20

  “I deliberately broke loose of the Beacon when the queen triggered it so that I would not be pulled through. I knew Edgar and I would be needed in Lithunane to investigate the attack. The real guests who had been replaced by demonspawn were all found murdered in their rooms.” Tor Ranshal stopped for a sip of water. “There were also a few guests who were not demonspawn, but appeared to be helping the mage who attacked us. And there were Qhazborh symbols left near the dais.” He let all of that sink in.

  Jenna and he shared a look at the mention of guests who helped the invading demonspawn. There was little doubt now as to what that spell in her bath had been intended to do.

  Tor Ranshal continued. “We did manage to track down two more pages who weren’t what they seemed. Unfortunately, they escaped before we could catch them. They were under the house of Ravenhearst, but we couldn’t find the Lord anywhere.”

  “He’s here,” Jenna said.

  The old seneschal nodded wearily. “I had feared as much. Although, I am at a loss to explain how he got here or exactly what his involvement is in this. He was gone by the time we realized his connection to the pages.”

  His brow furrowed. “There were also strange mage callings and signs for the first two days after the attack. They seemed to come from the east, somewhere toward the Markare, but I could tell nothing more. The border mages near there felt them as well, but then the feelings stopped. I had hoped that somehow Ghortin could guide us with the Book of cuari. I’m afraid things are happening that are beyond my unworthy abilities.”

  Jenna winced at the mention of a book. “Is this Book of cuari gray by any chance?”

  “Yes, child, it is. And very old. Much older than the mastermage himself, although he felt he could conquer it.” He stopped when Jenna frowned. “It is here, isn’t it? We were unable to find it in your rooms back in Lithunane.”

  “It’s not here,” she said. An unsettling thought crossed her mind. “Ravenhearst couldn’t have gotten it, could he?”

  “No. He wouldn’t have been able to get past Ghortin’s safeguards.” But the crease between his brows told Jenna he didn’t quite believe his own words.

  “Do you think he could have gotten past them if he had help?” Storm asked grimly. “The sort of help that the rogue mage had the night of the ball?”

  Tor Ranshal hesitated, and then met Storm’s eyes with a frown. “Yes, I suppose. Since we don’t know exactly how that mage was able to do what he did, anything could be possible.”

  “Come now.” Keanin jumped out of his seat. “You don’t think that Ravenhearst was in league with that thing? He’s a questionable individual and all, but I don’t think he’d go that far.” He looked at the somber faces around the room. “Would he?” he added faintly as he slid back into his chair.

  It was bad enough to be attacked in your own home. But to be attacked by someone you regularly socialized with was entirely something else.

  “I am afraid we have no idea what Ravenhearst is truly up to.” The seneschal rubbed his forehead. “As for the book, I assumed that Ghortin had found a way to move it here when no trace was found.” He looked up at Jenna with a deepening frown. “And you say Ravenhearst is here?”

  “Yes, but no one seems to have seen him but me.”

  “I don’t think he’d be here if he had the book,” Storm said, “provided it’s that important and that he knows about it. We’re not sure how he is involved with this.”

  “He’s been associated with some demonspawn pages, he’s vanished from one castle and is lurking unannounced near another,” Jenna said. “I’d say he’s up to something. And if the book is that important, don’t we have to assume he knows about it? And what if he has it, but can’t get it open? Wouldn’t he come looking for someone who could?” Jenna couldn’t keep the fear completely out of her voice. Maybe there was a reason why she had been the only one who’d seen him.

  “Unfortunately, that is possible as well. But we may be over-reacting.” Tor Ranshal took hold of Jenna’s hands. “I didn’t want to ask this, as I know how tiring it must be for the both of you, but could you ask Ghortin where he hid the book? We may be worrying needlessly. Perhaps it was too well protected in Lithunane for our remaining mages to find it.”

  Jenna looked around the room. She knew Ghortin hadn’t wanted anyone to know about his memory loss, but there was no way around it; Tor Ranshal and these others needed to know. Everyone in this room could be trusted. “He doesn’t remember the book at all.”

  At Tor Ranshal’s jolt, she quickly went on. “He doesn’t remember seeing such a book, let alone studying it. He thinks that some of his memories may have been lost when he transferred into my mind.” She looked around the room, her eyes avoiding Maggie’s, but settling on Storm’s, she knew he’d be on her side. “I think we have to go see if the book’s in Lithunane. Maybe going back there will free Ghortin’s memory.”

  “I agree that something has to be done. This is grievous news of Ghortin’s infirmity. But I think you should wait until you hear our tale before any rash decisions are made.” Tor Ranshal took another long drink from his glass, then settled into a pose that reminded Jenna of Ghortin when he was teaching her a long lesson. She briefly wondered who stole it from whom.

  “Once things had been as secured as they could be in Lithunane, Edgar and I determined that we needed to come up here to get the book and to see what else we could determine about the attack. Transporting this far with the current condition of our mages was out of the question, so with Prince Resstlin’s begrudging blessing, we departed from Lithunane on the fifth of Aven, nearly four weeks ago.” His golden eyes drifted off into the past. “We wanted to keep our numbers small so that we could pass quickly and with stealth; there have been reports of ill-happenings in some of the distant towns. The prince wouldn’t hear of it. We finally bargained him down to fifty handpicked guards. Ki’ Crell returned to Lithunane two days before we left, she decided to lead our group as soon as she heard you were up here.” He nodded to Storm.

  Jenna thought the name sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure. She knew that Ki’ referred to a derawri honor guard. Judging by the concern on Storm’s face, she was someone close.

  Keanin was stunned. Whoever this war
rior was, the fact that she hadn’t completed the trip hit them hard.

  Tor Ranshal had noticed it also. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you more when I get to that point, but I don’t think she’s gone.” A shadow crossed Tor Ranshal’s weathered face. “I wish I could say the same for the others who were with us. But I’m getting ahead of my story.

  “We had no trouble for the first two days; even the weather seemed to be on our side. Then we were ambushed by a suspiciously well-trained pack of ertin. They hit us a day’s ride before the Hills of Dhom, where we had no coverage.

  “Five good people died that day. Six more were gravely injured in that attack. We wanted to leave them in a village, but we found none that were suitable. The troubles of this past year have been slowly leading to an exodus from the smaller towns; particularly those near the Markare. Two villages were nothing but cinders.”

  Storm’s fist clenched tighter on his blanket, but he said nothing.

  “We tried everything we could to save the injured, but they all died within days of the attack. The beasts had some sort of poison on their claws and fangs. Those of us who had minor injuries from the attack were sick for a day or so. The weather turned at that point. Rain followed our every step; cruel winds, unnatural in that area, hounded us day and night.

  “At the far side of the Hills, we met a pride of sciretts. At first they seemed content to follow us. Edgar led our group in the most evasive maneuvers he could, but they always seemed to be there when we finished. They hit us outside the remains of Grindal; the village looks to have been abandoned some months ago. A group of the followers of Qhazborh were hiding in the deserted village and they and the sciretts trapped us in between them. That was the first time the mage wind blew.”

  The old man grew paler, reaching a shaking hand for the glass of water before continuing. “I have some low magic, so did six others in our group. As we drew our sources together to hold back the attackers, a strange wind overtook us. It ripped the six of them to shreds on its first pass.” He was speaking by rote now, as if he could distance himself from the horror.