No traffic was moving on the road, although a few bands of soldiers and peasants were camped at the side. Jemeryl noted their locations and flew on. The bridge and guard post came into view. Jemeryl was relieved. So many buildings in Bykoda’s Empire were not real, only an illusion projected by her magic. Now that she was dead, the disguise would be gone. Jemeryl had feared that the guard post might be revealed as no more than a straw hut, or even an outline drawn with magic symbols. However the building looked to be stone-built and secure. Presumably, it had played a part in the magical defences of the Empire. Illusions were of use only to impress the ungifted.
Jemeryl circled the guard post once. Tevi would not be there until the next day. Jemeryl was tempted to fly north and try to find her. In the wreck of Bykoda’s Empire, who knew what dangers might be running wild? But Jemeryl dared not leave her body unprotected for so long, and Tevi was far from helpless. In fact, she was probably in a less precarious situation than Jemeryl herself.
Before returning to the castle, Jemeryl spared a look for the road south. Uzhenek lay two hundred miles away. It was the southernmost town of Bykoda’s Empire, as well as being Anid’s army headquarters. Given the likely chaos breaking out down there, the town would be a good place to avoid.
Another two hundred miles beyond Uzhenek were the Barrodens—the mountain chain that lay between the Empire and the Protectorate. However it would not be possible to cross there by the direct route. Due south of Tirakhalod the chain was at its highest and widest. The pass at Horzt lay nearly four hundred miles to the east, while the pass above Denbury was even farther to the west, over one thousand miles away. However, the longer route might be the quicker one. Once they were over the mountains, they could take a boat down the River Lyre to the city at its mouth.
Jemeryl still had not made up her mind on which way to go, but the decision about the route could wait. She wheeled around and flew back up the road. Within minutes she was over the gatehouse of the outer bailey. Here was where the greatest change was apparent. The barracks and other buildings for the ungifted soldiers had been pure illusion. The area had been utter mayhem earlier that night. But at last, three hours after Bykoda’s death, the situation was calming down. Many of the common soldiers had fled, and all of those who remained were now drunk. The beer in the stores had been real, and no walls were left to keep it secure. Jemeryl was pleased to see that nobody was keeping sentry duty. Avoiding the ungifted warriors would have presented no problems for her, but the officer witches were also gone, and this would simplify her task of slipping out unnoticed.
Jemeryl’s path veered up the hill, over the middle bailey. The bodies of dead thralls lay in small, pathetic piles by the gates. The fire that had broken out in the armoury was now under control. Here, several witches were in evidence, but equally, they would all be far too busy firefighting to notice her passing.
To a first glance, the inner bailey was deserted, but then Jemeryl saw a figure crossing the derelict remains of the garden. The size made him easy to identify. Mavek was heading in the direction of her tower. Possibly he was merely going to his own rooms on the lower floor, but Jemeryl doubted it. She snapped free of Klara and returned to her own body lying on the couch. By the time the door to her quarters opened, she was fully restored to her normal state of consciousness.
Mavek strode imperiously into the room. His shoulders were thrown back, his head held high. His normally easygoing expression was fixed in an arrogant mask of disdain. He was clearly still trying to play the bluff, but Jemeryl was fairly sure she had all the answers. She stood up, matching his attempt at intimidation with calm self-assurance.
At first he tried to glare her into submission. When this did not work, he crossed his massive forearms and said, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“I could make all sorts of guesses. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I want the talisman.”
Jemeryl sighed. “Yes. I thought you might. I’m afraid I can’t let you have it.”
“You dare defy me? After you saw what I did to Bykoda!”
“Yes.”
“I could kill you where you stand.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you have any idea of the power it took to strike Bykoda down through her crystal shield?”
“I dread to think of what sort of power it would take.” Jemeryl paused. “But that wasn’t what you did.”
The first chink in Mavek’s bravado showed in the set of his jaw. “What do you mean?”
“I know how you killed Bykoda, and the level of magical ability it took wouldn’t have strained the powers of a third-rate witch.”
“Third-rate witch? I smashed aside a crystal shield and you doubt my magic?” With each exchange, Mavek’s assurance was slipping.
“You didn’t go through the shield. And the magic that killed Bykoda was all due to Dunarth, although she doesn’t know it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Although he was still using defiant words, his voice sounded waveringly insecure.
“I think I do. You killed Bykoda with a pin coated in Dunarth’s strongest poison that you’d fixed inside her deflating cushion.” Jemeryl gave a rueful smile. “I’m stupid not to have guessed before when I visited you in your workshop and you showed me the trial cushions with the different weights. You said you were trying to stop them from deflating. But then why the different weights? You’re the heaviest of the acolytes. Why not make sure that the cushion was all right for you? Then it would be bound to hold out for all the rest. You were testing the rates of deflation. Obviously, it had to be safe for when the room was searched. Somebody might have even sat on it to test it for comfort, and you wouldn’t have wanted any of the thralls to drop dead and spoil your plan.”
To illustrate her point, Jemeryl picked up a cushion—an ordinary one with tassels—and waved it around. “The council chamber is searched before the start of proceedings, and after that, nobody is allowed in on their own. You weren’t able to change the cushion during the day, so it had to have exactly the right deflation rate for Bykoda’s weight to hold out until after nightfall. In the break before the evening session you fixed a mirror outside the window. You couldn’t have done it during the daytime; the mirror would have been too obvious. And then you sat there and watched Bykoda. When you saw her react to being pricked by the needle, you stood up and put on the light show to distract everyone and make it look more spectacular than it really was. Then you bounced a shot off the mirror to bring down the crystals. But, as I said, a third-rate witch could have done it.” Jemeryl tossed the cushion back onto the chair.
While Jemeryl was speaking, Mavek’s expression had gone from surprise to fear. His eyes flicked towards the door as if he was thinking of fleeing. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go back to the Protectorate. And I’m going to take the talisman with me.”
“I need to use it.”
“You can’t. It doesn’t work.”
“That’s what Bykoda told you? She was lying. I’ve seen her notes. I couldn’t do it myself, but I know how she made it, and it would work.”
“It may have worked once. But the temporal forces have become unbalanced. It’s too dangerous to make the attempt.”
A new resolution came over Mavek’s face, while shades of his old friendliness returned. “Maybe if I tell you why I need it.”
“It will make no difference.”
He showed no sign of hearing. “I had a partner once, like you, ungifted. We lived over to the west, near the mines. We had three children. The oldest was eight. I was mine foreman. I had the gift for a more important job, but I was happy as I was. One day I went into town for a meeting. It wasn’t urgent. I could have left it. But I woke up on a sunny morning and thought it was a good day for a ride, so I’d get it over with early. While I was gone, a band of thieves picked that day to raid the mine. The workers fought them off and they fled...straight past my home,
and they thought they’d hole up in my house.” Mavek’s face crumpled. “They murdered everyone there. My partner, my children, even my dogs. But it didn’t help them. When I got home I...” Mavek shrugged, clearly struggling. “But it didn’t bring my family back. And ever since Bykoda told us about the talisman, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I want to go back and change my mind. I want to wake up on that sunny morning and think, ‘What a good day to spend with my family.’ I want to be there when those bastards arrive.”
Jemeryl stared down at the floor, trying to think of suitable words to say. “I...I’m sorry for you. I really am, but you can’t have the talisman.” She made her voice as gentle as possible. “Have you thought of what might happen if it ruptures? Think of all the other families it could ruin.”
“If.” Mavek’s tone made his scepticism clear.
“Bykoda wasn’t a woman to scare easily. And she was frightened of the danger.”
“It’s as much for Bykoda’s sake that I need the talisman.”
“Why?” Jemeryl frowned, confused.
Mavek stepped forwards, eagerly. “Don’t you see? If I get the talisman and save my family, then I’ll never become an acolyte and I’ll have no need to kill her. I’m not a murderer. If it wasn’t that I knew that once I’d got the talisman, I could undo what I’d done, I’d never have killed her. You have to let me have the talisman. It’s the only way to put things right.”
Jemeryl sank onto the couch, fighting with her pity for the man. She wished she could think of some way to help him, yet there was only one possible answer to his request. “I can’t risk it. It’s far too dangerous. I can’t give the talisman to you.”
“That’s your last answer?”
“Yes.”
Mavek stared at her for a long time. “It won’t end here.”
“It has to.”
He retreated towards the door, shaking his head in an action that looked like a nervous twitch. “I’ll be back.”
“I won’t have changed my mind.”
“Then I’ll make you.”
“You’re not strong enough. We both know that.”
“I won’t be alone.”
Jemeryl got to her feet. “You’re not wise to threaten me. I could strike you down, here and now, when it’s one on one.”
“But you won’t.” With his eyes still on Jemeryl, Mavek reached behind him and opened the door. “You’re like me. Neither of us are killers.” Only at the last moment did he break eye contact and slip away.
Jemeryl followed him to the stairway, but she made no attempt to let loose a magical assault. Mavek was right. She could not kill in cold blood—not while the hope of some other solution remained. His footsteps faded away down the steps.
She shut the door firmly and turned back to the room. How long did she have before he returned with support? And what should she do about it?
Mavek was adept in the sixth dimension, and very weak in the others. As a sorcerer, he was no match for either her or Bykoda. He would never be able to control the Empire on his own. The obvious interpretation for why he had staged Bykoda’s death in such a dramatic fashion was to intimidate the other acolytes into supporting him. Jemeryl pursed her lips—exactly the same game that he had tried playing with her. Yet Mavek had made it clear that he had no long-term interest in the Empire.
Why did he need the support of the acolytes? Was it just to hold the Empire together long enough to give him time to investigate the talisman? Alternately, it would be surprising if working the talisman did not require skill in the seventh dimension, the second aspect of time. Was Mavek hoping to get Kharel’s help, and wanted the seer to be too scared to ask question about what they were doing? Jemeryl’s expression grew more sombre. Or did Mavek want their help to overpower her and take the talisman if she could not be coerced into handing it over?
Jemeryl considered her options. She could go and tell the acolytes the truth about Bykoda’s death. But how would they respond? There was the risk that they would collectively decide that they wanted the talisman anyway and still gang up against her. Or they might simply turn on Mavek. Even if events went that way, Jemeryl was unhappy with the likely outcome. The pain in Mavek’s voice as he had spoken of his family still echoed in her ears. She did not want to be in any way responsible for his death.
Klara had returned and was in her normal perch on the bookcase. Jemeryl spoke to the magpie, voicing her thoughts aloud. “We go now and hope that Tevi gets to the guard post soon.”
The bags for the journey to Lyremouth should be waiting in the guard post. All that Jemeryl needed to do was go. After edging the door open, she waited, searching for any sound or other sign of activity in the stairwell. All seemed clear.
She had to leave before Mavek had the chance to summon allies against her. He would not know of her readiness for departure and would calculate that she needed to gather supplies. Mavek would therefore think he had more time than he did. With luck, he would leave it too late. But her first step was to get out of the castle unnoticed.
Jemeryl pulled the door shut behind her and crept down the stairs.
Part Two
The Acolyte
Chapter Nine—The Ruins of Empire
Even though she had travelled slowly and cautiously, dawn was still hours away as Jemeryl approached the guard post. Her primary concern had been to avoid detection. Not that she felt overly worried on her own account, but it would be better if Mavek did not know where she was. Tevi would shortly be making her own way there, and sneaking through a magical cordon might prove tricky for the ungifted warrior.
A wry smile crossed Jemeryl’s face. The guard post had turned out to be a better choice of rendezvous than either of them had known, back when Tevi pushed the plan on her. When Mavek found out that she had fled the castle, he would assume she was either racing south, back to the Protectorate, or north, in search of Tevi. Surely it would not occur to him that she was staying put a scant two miles from the gates of Tirakhalod? Or that she did not need to seek out Tevi?
A waist-high clump of bushes grew a stone’s throw from the guard post. Jemeryl crouched in its shelter and considered her goal. The guard post was a one-story building, about twenty feet long and twelve wide. It stood beside the road a few dozen yards from the bridge. A door and a single window were on the side overlooking the road. Rough mortar filled the spaces between the stones, and slate tiles covered the roof. Although no sound came from the building, a faint light shone through gaps in the window shutters and the scent of smoke wafted on the night air. The clear implication was that someone currently occupied the guard post.
Jemeryl’s first thought was that Tevi was there already. She almost rushed up to the door, but then she remembered Ranenok’s message. If the battle with the trolls had not finished until sundown, it would be impossible for Tevi to have got to the guard post so soon. Whoever was in the building was unlikely to be a friend, and should be dealt with cautiously.
Tirakhalod’s fires and furnaces had long since claimed the few trees to be found in the region. Now only long grass and shrubs covered the land. Grazing horses had removed even this from around the guard post. Nothing would hide Jemeryl’s approach from anyone watching. She could, if she wished, turn herself invisible, but this would only work for the ungifted. To anyone with magical ability, the effect would be as subtle as jumping up and down, screaming, “Look over here. I’m a sorcerer!”
A chill breeze blew from the north, sighing through the grass. An owl whooped in the distance. The rush of the river drowned out all other sound. The sky overhead was clear, but the moon had set hours before and starlight was too faint to see much of use. Fortunately, Jemeryl’s sorcerer senses were not so limited.
With her eyes closed, she studied the fluctuating life forces of the fifth dimension, trying to learn more. She picked out traces of deer in the grassland, birds in their nests, fish in the river, but the building was a blank. Somebody had sealed the walls against magic.
Jemeryl chewed her lip. Was that same somebody inside? Or was it the remnant of Bykoda’s magic? She shifted her attention to the sixth dimension, searching the elemental forces for traps and alarms. This felt clear, but was it also masked? Finally, unwillingly, she probed the seventh dimension. At first no sense of foreboding rose in her, but then disquietening tendrils seeped in, as if from a distance.
Jemeryl clenched her hand in a fist and broke off her probes, angry at herself. To her mind, fortune telling was too haphazard a game to count as proper magic. She was wasting time in attempting it. She certainly could not rely on any results. Common sense and a little reasoning would be a better guide.
That people were sheltering in the guard post was not a surprise. With the collapse of Bykoda’s power, one-third of her army had deserted. Gangs of soldiers were everywhere. Predictably, some had chosen to take shelter in the building for the night, rather than sleep in the open air.
But were any of them witches? Jemeryl did not want rumours of a sorcerer in the guard post to circulate. Before long, the report would get back to Mavek. Jemeryl had to make whoever was in the guard post leave without revealing her own presence. To that end, the ungifted would be so much easier to deal with.
Jemeryl fixed her attention back on the building. After a moment more thought she was sure that the creator of the wards was not there. Anyone powerful enough to block out a sorcerer’s probes would rank too highly even to consider lodging in the guard post. But Jemeryl would still have liked a better idea of who, and how many, she had to deal with. Were any of the deserters standing sentry? Were they awake or sleeping, sober or drunk? A grin then grew on her lips, as she imagined Tevi, telling her that experience would bet on the latter option in both cases.
Jemeryl left the bushes and crept close. She had to take a chance and hope it would not come to a direct fight. As a last resort, she could take everyone prisoner until she and Tevi were ready to go. Carefully, she opened the door and peered in.
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 17