The vision blinked into nothingness. Not even the green magelight remained in the water.
Guinalle opened her eyes. ‘Your friend from Wrede is sheltya.’
‘From the Mountain Men?’ Hosh remembered what Kusint had told him of those mysterious adepts.
‘What is their interest in this?’ Usara blew on his sore fingertips.
‘I suggest you ask Aritane,’ Jilseth said swiftly, ‘while I tell Planir.’
Usara looked at Guinalle. ‘Do you suppose she will tell us what she might suspect?’
The Tormalin lady adept hesitated. ‘We can ask but I don’t suppose she will say very much.’ She looked at Jilseth. ‘You must understand. Aritane has shared healing and other lore which the sheltya teach Solura’s adepts and the Forest’s wise folk and she has offered her insights into my own Artifice but she has never told us anything of the sheltya’s inner counsels or secrets.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Corrain demanded.
‘You two see if you can hobble the Archipelagans,’ Usara said decisively. ‘Guinalle and I will see what we can learn from our friend while you let Planir know everything that’s happened today.’ He looked at Jilseth. ‘Then we will meet at the Prefecture. Mentor Garewin told us what you agreed with him and his colleagues.’
‘Very well.’ Jilseth nodded and vanished.
Hosh looked at the bed. He was relieved beyond measure to see that the dead Soluran had disappeared along with the magewoman.
Usara looked at Corrain. ‘Do you want us to take you to the Spice Wharf?’
The captain shook his head. ‘We’ll find our own way there.’
As the Suthyfer mage and his lady adept disappeared, Hosh unbuckled Corrain’s sword and offered it back.
‘We do still have to get out of here unseen,’ he pointed out. ‘A little magic might prove useful there.’
He was secretly satisfied to see a moment of chagrin on Corrain’s face. He was even more pleased when the two of them managed to leave the rooming house without encountering the slatternly housekeeper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Terrene Hall, Hadrumal
33rd of Aft-Winter
AS JILSETH’S STUDY appeared around her, she reflected that working necromancy with splintered bones or a withered scrap of flesh was a good deal more convenient than being burdened with an entire Soluran corpse.
It was also far less offensive. She looked at the limp body on the floor. The charnel stink was repellently strong. How much worse would the smell become if she left this carrion here with doors and windows closed? Even allowing for the chill weather Jilseth would wager good gold that the spreading reek would attract notice sooner rather than later. The hall’s servants would investigate such a stench as readily as the city’s rats, hungry in the depths of winter.
She stooped to lay a hand on the Soluran’s cold forehead. Resolute, she thrust all emotion away; her fear of this man and his allies, wizardly and adept alike. Otherwise her magic risked going awry and Jilseth didn’t wish to contemplate any unpredictable consequences with a dead man sprawled on her carpet.
Achieving such composure had been a great deal easier back in Col. She had been so focused on testing her newfound strengths through this unforeseen opportunity for necromancy. She had been so exultant at the far greater depth and breadth of her insights into the dead man’s life.
But what had her magic achieved? They had seen who conspired against Hadrumal but beyond the Detich magewoman and the Soluran, they didn’t know who those guilty men and women were. They couldn’t lay an accusation before the Elected in Col, to comfort Micaran’s grieving family. Would the city’s lawmakers even trust a wizard’s word with the dead Soluran’s lingering enchantments still poisoning their thoughts?
Would the Archmage deliver justice on Micaran’s behalf, when she told Planir what she had learned? What of the other questions that nagged at her? Did she have the right to demand answers of the Archmage?
First things first. Jilseth drew a deep breath and focused her mage senses on the body. She reached through her innate affinity to her command of all the elements and sought cold. Not the slow cooling of mortal flesh, not merely winter’s seasonal chill but the enduring, unchanging frost of the remote and frigid north.
Jilseth drove every last lingering glimmer of elemental fire from the man’s flesh, blood and bones. She warded his substance against the equilibrium of elemental earth which sought to bring every unliving thing to the same level temperature. She wove air and water deftly together to leave the corpse frozen as solid as the stone floor beneath it.
Finally she wove a shroud of quadrate magic to baffle any Soluran scrying. Doubtless they knew that their man was dead but let them wonder where his remains had disappeared to. Of course, Artifice might have some means of finding the dead but Jilseth could do nothing about that. She decided to bespeak Usara and ask if Guinalle could conceal the corpse from questing aetheric magic, once she had spoken to the Archmage.
If Planir wanted her to work any further necromancy, Jilseth knew that this wizardly cold would prove no hindrance. She’d worked such spells on pathetic remnants from the depths of Relshaz’s harbour and heads recovered from an executioner’s spikes in Parnilesse.
She still shuddered at the thought of the corpse on her floor as she locked the door behind her and hurried across the quadrangle. If Planir committed the Soluran to a funeral pyre, Jilseth would gladly fling her rug into the same flames.
She walked quickly to Trydek’s Hall. The door to the tower was closed, which was unusual. However as Jilseth raised her hand to knock, the ancient oak swung open. She climbed quickly up the stairs. The door to Planir’s sitting room opened with similar swiftness.
The Archmage was reading by his fireside. At first glance it looked as if he hadn’t moved since she’d last been here. Then Jilseth noted that the stacks of books and papers from Relshaz were markedly reduced.
She also feared that the Archmage looked correspondingly weary. Was there no one who could help him with this research? Or was he refusing to allow anyone to help, for fear of some discovery being used against him in a Council meeting?
A tisane glass stood within the fender, half full of black dregs. How long could that sustain him before he was forced to take some proper rest? What would happen then, Jilseth wondered with growing misgiving. What mischief could the Flood Mistress and the Hearth Master contrive while their Archmage was sleeping, oblivious, high in his tower?
Planir smiled and set his book aside. ‘Usara has told me what happened in Col.’
‘Good.’ Jilseth spared a moment to admire the mild faced mage’s swift presence of mind. Most wizards would have allowed themselves a little respite after carrying two people as far as Suthyfer and back again, never mind working another demanding spell like that scrying.
‘I hadn’t expected to find the sheltya so interested in lowland affairs,’ Planir remarked. ‘I will be very interested to learn what Aritane thinks might have prompted them to send an enquiry agent south from Wrede.’
‘The sheltya are no great friends to wizardry.’ Jilseth recalled that those Mountain brothers she’d encountered in Lescar had been exiled on account of Sorgrad’s magebirth, long before embarking on their notorious careers as scoundrels and thieves.
Planir considered this. ‘I would say rather that they’re no great friends to any arrogant or unrestrained magic, aetheric or elemental. That’s why they drove the Elietimm into the eastern ocean, refusing to let them rule the Gidestan mountains through Artifice. They hold the mountain passes against Mandarkin attacks whether the skirmishers’ efforts are bolstered by the tyrants’ wizards or by adepts.’
‘But they don’t generally involve themselves with affairs beyond their own mountains.’ Jilseth knew that exiles such as Sorgrad and his brother, and Aritane, had the sheltya’s self-imposed boundary to thank for their lives and liberties.
‘That we know of,’ Planir pointed out. ‘Who’s to sa
y what this man from Wrede has done before now with none of us the wiser?’
He waved that away. ‘For the present I’ve seen no evidence he’s done anything more than gather information, beyond levelling the scales for Corrain when the Soluran would have killed him. Let’s see what Aritane thinks the sheltya will make of that intervention.’
Jilseth was more concerned with adepts and wizards closer to hand. ‘What should we do about this Soluran conspiracy between these Orders and the Houses?’
Planir looked thoughtful. ‘We may well be best advised to do nothing.’
‘But he wasn’t working alone, Archmage. Shouldn’t we track down his allies in Col? I caught glimpses of his drinking companions’ faces as I searched back through the echoes of his life. If I work some further necromancy to uncover his more recent endeavours, I can show Lady Guinalle by means of her Artifice—’
‘To what purpose?’ Planir queried. ‘To publicly accuse university mentors of malice towards Hadrumal, when they are merely this Soluran’s dupes? That will hardly put a shine on wizardry’s already tarnished reputation in Col. Besides, even with Lady Guinalle’s aid, it would simply be our word against theirs.’
He raised a hand before Jilseth could object. ‘Lady Guinalle has already set her own enchantments searching out the Soluran’s malevolence. I’ll make sure she knows of your offer as she devises some Artifice to draw the sting of his venom. It may help her to see the faces of those he’s subjected to aetheric influence.’
‘How long will that take, Archmage?’ Jilseth quickly related what Corrain had learned before Micaran had died. ‘We can expect to see Archipelagan ships in Hadrumal’s waters in under twenty-five days.’
‘What do the Solurans hope to see then?’ Planir mused. ‘Our island’s warding magics driving these ships onto the rocks or out into the western ocean for their hapless crews to die of hunger and thirst? Or do they imagine that Hadrumal’s mages will start slaughtering the Aldabreshi? Do they hope to turn still more of the Archipelago’s warlords against us, whenever word reaches them of Jagai dead washing up on Caladhria’s beaches? Perhaps they will try warping the western sea’s currents to wash the broken remnants of their triremes and galleys all the way back to the islands.’
The Archmage pressed his palms together, fingertips to his bearded lips, lost in contemplation for a long moment.
‘Wizardry has precious few friends among the realms and rulers from Ensaimin to Tormalin at present. We’ll have fewer still once bodies begin drifting ashore. The noble lords and guild masters will hardly thank us for wrecking whatever faint hope they cherish of restoring trade with the Archipelago.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Do you suppose that they imagine fear of these consequences will have us trembling so cravenly in our shoes that we will hand over these artefacts which they covet, simply to put an end to their scheming against us?’
‘Are you still determined that the Soluran Orders shan’t have those artefacts?’ Jilseth decided that she might as well ask the questions which were plaguing her. ‘Is that because you don’t want them discovering how to use Artifice through such instilled elemental spells, as Usara and Guinalle have done in Suthyfer?’
Planir lowered his hands and leaned back, smiling. ‘I will certainly make that argument, most forcefully, if the Council does contemplate giving in to Soluran menaces.’
‘Meantime, Suthyfer will still have that coffer of Khusro artefacts which I don’t suppose you’ve seen fit to mention to the Council,’ Jilseth observed.
Planir spread innocent hands. ‘There has been no Council meeting where I could have told our fellow eminent mages of these fresh discoveries. Besides, were anyone to call us together, I am sure they would wish to discuss far more urgent matters. I hear that Flood Mistress Troanna is currently seeking allies for the day when she finally proposes a vote demanding that I surrender the Archmage’s ring. I’ve yet to learn if she also intends seeing me stripped of the rank of Stone Master.’
He didn’t sound overly concerned. Jilseth could only hope he had good reason for such confidence.
‘Are any Council members giving the Flood Mistress a hearing?’
‘They’re mostly too busy to listen.’ Planir smiled wryly. ‘Those who haven’t already worked themselves to a standstill are still intent on cracking the mysteries of the artefacts they already hold. Even those who talked of abandoning the challenge for the sake of their other duties keep finding reasons to hope that a few more days will bring success.
‘I don’t propose to bother about Troanna until she approaches Kalion, since she must know that she cannot succeed without the Hearth Master’s support.’ He shrugged. ‘Sannin is now working in a nexus with Ely, Galen and Canfor so I’m hopeful she’ll be one of the first to hear when that happens. Then I will consider how best to respond.’
Jilseth didn’t find that as reassuring as she would like. ‘Are your supporters countering Troanna? Velindre and Mellitha must surely command a hearing in any hall?’
Planir’s face hardened. ‘Velindre and Mellitha are helping the mercenary shipmasters of the Carifate who have made common cause with the mariners of Maubere Inlet who used to serve the Dukes of Parnilesse. Magecraft will shape their rough harbour into a safe haven where Archipelagan traders can offer their goods to Tormalin merchants and both sides will profit from not having to deal with intermediaries.
‘In the fullness of time, I’m confident that ports such as Attar and Claithe will welcome wizardly help to improve their anchorages and approaches to accommodate Aldabreshin galleys. With this recent peace in Lescar looking ever more likely to hold, there’s also every chance that more new ports will flourish at the mouths of the Dyal and Annock rivers.’
So the Relshazri were going to rue the day when they decided to turn on wizardry for the sake of their ties to the Archipelagans. Though Jilseth wondered how many of the Council would consider seeing that city beggared was sufficient retribution for Kerrit’s death. More urgently, what good was such long-term scheming when this far more immediate threat hung over the wizard isle?
‘When will you warn the Council that Hadrumal is likely to be attacked? At the moment, barely a double handful of us know that Jagai Kalu intends to send shiploads of mercenaries against us, still less that these Soluran Orders who covet Anskal’s loot are behind such scheming. Surely there are other wizards in Solura who owe favours to Hadrumal and its halls? The Flood Mistress and the Hearth Master have acquaintances among eminent Elders who could command King Solquen’s attention. Couldn’t they help us put a stop to this?’
‘Perhaps, but doubtless their price would be either the ensorcelled artefacts or the secrets of quintessential magic. I am in no mood to surrender any such thing through gratitude, any more than I will yield them to threats. But I will tell the Council and all Hadrumal,’ Planir assured her with a glint in his eye, ‘when I am quite certain that such an attack will actually happen. Usara tells me that Baron Halferan intends to undermine the Solurans’ plans by turning these mercenaries against the Aldabreshi.’
Jilseth looked askance at him. ‘Do you really believe that Corrain can somehow disrupt an entire Archipelagan domain’s plans for an assault?’
The Archmage shrugged. ‘Surely we have learned not to underestimate the good captain? He has a remarkable capacity to do something so wholly unexpected that it forces those around him into actions they would never have contemplated. A year ago, would you have imagined that you would have helped wizardry to demolish an entire Aldabreshin island?’
Jilseth had no answer to that. Planir reached for the book which he had been reading and opened it.
‘We also need to know if it is merely Jagai Kalu and his shipmasters and swordsmen who have been shown the way to our waters and convinced to attack us. If this malice has spread more widely through the Archipelago, we will find ourselves playing a very different game of white raven. Once we know how our enemies are arrayed against us, we will be able to see what st
ratagems lie open.’
‘How do you propose to find that out?’ Jilseth asked.
‘By waiting to see.’ Planir looked up from his page, mildly surprised.
Once again, Jilseth found herself with more urgent concerns. ‘We agreed to meet this evening, the Col mentors, the Caladhrians and I, at the Prefecture, to share what we’ve discovered and to inform the city’s authorities of the Soluran’s connivance. What shall I tell them?’
‘Whatever you think they need to know. I trust your judgement.’ Planir shifted to ease stiff shoulders. ‘See what else you can learn from your dead Soluran in the meantime and share your discoveries with Mentor Garewin and his adepts in return for whatever they can tell us.’
The Archmage settled to his reading once again. ‘Please close the doors on your way out.’
Jilseth stared at him for a long moment before rising to depart. Planir surprised her by looking up with a smile.
‘I look forward to learning if Corrain has indeed contrived some useful mayhem among the mercenaries and the Archipelagans.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Red Library Square, Col
33rd of Aft-Winter
CORRAIN DRUMMED THOUGHTFUL fingers on the rail around the gig’s seat. Would he fare better challenging the mercenaries who had already taken Archipelagan gold with the truth or should he warn off those still waiting to test their mettle against the Aldabreshi swordsmen?
He decided to confront those who’d already taken the zamorin’s coin, catching them before they left the Spice Wharf to enjoy their windfall. Dissuading some hopeful who didn’t pass muster would be wasted effort. Convincing swordsmen who’d just been hired would most likely repay him and Hosh twice or thrice. Each mercenary would surely tell his trusted friends how he had been duped. No warrior worth the name would let his allies stick their heads into a hangman’s noose.
Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 36