Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2)

by D. H. Aire

  “No one else was here?”

  Raven stepped forward, “I here.”

  He frowned. The lad was obviously a bit addled, saying little, but had seemed helpful enough during dinner. “What did you see?”

  “It ate mage.”

  “What?”

  Raven gestured. “Rose up. Ate him. Quick,” snapping her finger.

  “That’s impossible.”

  George nodded, “Doubtlessly the mage thought that, too.”

  Shaking his head, he muttered to Se’and, “You remember nothing else?”

  She frowned, “Nothing.”

  Terhun rose. “Show me the scene.”

  “No,” George replied. “That could be dangerous.”

  “If you are afraid, I can have a mage ward it.”

  “I would advise against that. You see, it no longer depicts quite the same scene.”

  Dustin rasped, “What? That’s impossible.” Terhun glared at him. “You don’t understand. I checked that tapestry for magery. For it to have changed, to have done any of what you suggest, it has to be enchanted... And it’s not.”

  George shrugged, “Well, it appears to be, now.”

  “You understand that I will have to confiscate it on behalf of the Crown,” Terhun replied, wondering how much longer his people would take to burst down the door.

  “It is safer with us,” Se’and replied.

  “I’m sorry, but that is for the Lyai to decide.”

  She looked at Je’orj, who shook his head and said, “No, that is for the Highmage to decide.”

  “Huh?”

  George pointed. The tapestry before them abruptly rolled up. Dustin

  gaped in shock as Terhun saw the tapestry roll right up to his feet.

  “The matter is for the Highmage to decide… and I am a representative of the Highmage,” he said.

  :That’s one way to put it,: Staff quipped in the back of his mind.

  “What? But you are a human! Humans cannot even do magic!”

  “So people keep telling me. And, honestly, I have no doubt that you’re right since I don’t do magic.”

  Terhun looked about for some sign of a powerful talisman, when he stopped cold. He turned, “You are the Highmage’s hand. But Alrex has not had a doppelganger in decades!”

  George frowned at the suggestion, knowing he would have to explore that idea more fully at a later time. Well, in the meantime, he had best go with it. “Not that anyone is supposed to know of... Should the Lyai be the only one with agents?”

  Terhun lowered his head. It could not possibly be true. However, the dark mage had vanished here. However, he needed proof. He could not just report back to the Lyai that an agent of the Highmage was here in the capital, a man that could do magery as only the doppelganger of a Highmage could. Such people were more legend than real. But he knew historically that such people existed – that Alrex had even had such a human reflection many years past. The bards still sang of Ome’s tales throughout the Empire still.

  “So where is your unicorn?”

  “My unicorn?” George muttered.

  “The source of your magery, the greatest talisman and boon any human can bear.”

  :George.:

  “Very well. My unicorn,” he replied, walking away, then grasped his staff, which leaned against the wall. It abruptly blazed. “Yes, my unicorn horn.”

  Everyone hastily covered their eyes and Dustin fell to his knees. “My Lord.”

  George quickly helped usher the young elfblood to his feet. “Stop that.”

  Terhun gaped. “Unicorn horn?”

  “Don’t tell me you believed those old tales about my ilk riding a unicorn? Have you ever seen one? Believe me, this ‘horn’ is enough trouble without have to ride it.”

  :Do not you dare!: the computer staff warned.

  The real question was: would Terhun believe this?

  Lord Erianda had pored over reports, seeking what his predecessor had sought. He frowned at the reference. A foreign merchant was seen buying items at the Debtor’s Sale. Looking over the list carefully, he wondered if a talisman or something else had been sold – something the other Lord Erianda had reason to fear.

  Tin cups? Tapestries… tapestries depicting details of Faeryn’s Battle; dwarves marching under the Empress’s banner, a legion from Llewelyn seen joining the Empire’s reserves, then a foreign force in black livery, hundreds strong reinforced them and led the vanguard.

  He frowned at that the description. A foreign force, his agent noted, if they were Northlanders would it not say so? That brought him to the Archive in search of references to the battle. Until at last he found a reference to mercenaries, he followed that up seeking payment details and found nothing. What mercenaries fought without reward?

  Banging his heels against the floor, the dark mage realized that the Archives contained nothing further. He stalked out of the chamber angrily, then stopped. Perhaps, there was one other avenue he might explore here. He marched into the bardic archive, which held scrolls of all the songs sung about battles past.

  A bardic mage frowned at his abrupt entry. “May I help you?”

  “I seek tales of Faeryn’s Battle.”

  The elfblood looked at him distastefully. “Would that we could rid ourselves of that song as well?”

  Erianda frowned, “What?”

  “You must have been gone long. The Guild has barred songs about Faeryn mages from the Archives. But we have not yet dared to remove songs about the Highmage himself.”

  Smiling thinly, Erianda replied, “Give it time, Brother.”

  The bardic archivist grinned, “You will find what you seek that way.”

  Erianda marched off, then spent hours going through song after song. So many about the dratted Faeryn until he stumbled upon the songs relating to the Northland War. Songs hailing the dwarves who allied themselves with Faeryn, songs heralding Llewelyn’s efforts, falling back in retreat that led the goblin hordes into a trap, a trap that looked about to fail as dragons entered the fray.

  He stared at that tale for some time and noted how the Llewelyn had commissioned tapestries of the scenes to hang in his great hall. Erianda frowned thoughtfully. A cadet branch of the Llewelyn’s now ruled that western province. The question was where were those tapestries so many centuries later? Why they might end up in the Debtor’s Sale he could not fathom – and why such things could threaten his Master’s plans, he had not a clue. Yet, if those tapestries were more than they appeared…

  He rolled up the bardic scroll and hid it beneath his robes. He would make a quiet inquiry of his counterpart in that province. The elflord who had orchestrated the fall of that royal line would certainly know whether a battle scene tapestry still graced the hall.

  Tapping a Tapestry

  Chapter 25

  Terhun stared at the man who had been posing as the merchant, Jeo d’Aere. “What is your interest here in Lyai?”

  “Just passing through,” George replied.

  “Yet, you found the time to purchase these tapestries and seem interested in acquiring more.”

  “The better to confound the Demonlord’s agents,” Se’and replied. “They have been trying to locate us.”

  “I have no doubt of that. But why are you in Lyai? There are faster ways of reaching the Imperial Capital.”

  George thought honesty might help. “The Highmage has sent for me, knowing that I am pursued by our enemies… I am still rather to new to all this.”

  “Your accent is not feigned, then?”

  “No, I am as foreign as you can get,” he replied, thinking, isn’t that the truth. “The Highmage’s plans are not always clear to me. All I can tell you is that I am supposed to be here.”

  “You just stumbled upon the tapestry?”

  “Things like that seem to happen to us a lot,” Se’and muttered.

  Terhun looked at Se’and. “How do you fit into all this?”

  How far could they trust him? she wondered. “I am
his wife. Where he goes, I go.”

  That did not particularly surprise Terhun. He had noticed her protectiveness. “I would like you to speak with my mages about the tapestry. It could be more dangerous than any of us realize.”

  George frowned, “Dustin, your opinion of the tapestry?”

  “Mine?”

  “You examined it before. You have heard what we know about it. Do you think it is too dangerous to remain with us?”

  Terhun shook his head. “This is ridiculous. He’s only a journeyman,” and also had his doubts about the Faeryn––trained.

  “Dustin, I value your opinion,” George said.

  The elfblood straightened and took a deep breath. “I cannot say without seeing it again.”

  “Very well,” George replied with a sigh. He gestured to Se’and, who was aided by Fri’il, in uncovering the tapestry, which they had put on the bottom of the pile. The women carefully kept their hands from the bindings.

  George knelt and released them himself letting it unroll. He cautiously stepped back, his staff glowing brightly. Terhun tried to move closer for a better look, but found that he could not. Whatever the human mage was doing, he had set a powerful ward.

  Dustin gestured at the depiction tentatively, seeking to touch any sense of enchantment. He frowned, still finding nothing. Warily, he knelt and touched the woven threads. No sense of magery lay about it. He sighed and glanced at the scene, which was, seemingly, as he remembered it.

  Abruptly, he frowned. No, that was not as he remembered it. One of the mages was looking directly at him. ‘You certainly do not belong here,’ he heard astonishingly in his mind.

  “Who are you?” Dustin asked.

  ‘I am Faeryn. You scry far it seems.’

  Dustin began to tremble. “Uh, I did not mean to disturb you. I can see that you are a bit busy at the moment.”

  ‘Yes, you could say that. Are you in a position to scry the position of the goblin mages?’

  Dustin glanced across the tapestry. “Uh, you mean those over there?”

  Faeryn frowned, looking up into the darkened sky. He saw the woven image in Dustin’s eye. ‘You scry very oddly, but I do see them. Your aid is timely. I am sorry, but I must go.’

  “That’s all right,” then the elf’s back was turned away from him once more.

  Dustin sank heavily to the floor, rasping, “Close that thing up!”

  Se’and hurriedly did so with a cry of, “What did you see?”

  “Oh, by Faeryn, oh my... I just told Faeryn the location of the enemy mages.”

  Terhun and George shouted together, “You did what?”

  Dustin suddenly smiled, “I helped Faeryn win the day! Isn’t that marvelous?”

  George re–tied the tapestry’s bindings. Terhun was shaking his head. “What Dustin said is simply impossible.”

  :I scanned the image as they closed it, George. I note minute changes radiating out from the position of the mages.:

  “And?” he muttered quickly back.

  :I think the scene will be different in many ways the next time we look at it.:

  Terhun confronted Dustin, “We heard you muttering what, I thought, was a spell. I cannot believe you were talking to Highmage Faeryn.”

  The youth sighed, “But I was, perhaps, because I am a Faeryn mage.”

  Turning about, Terhun demanded, “My mages must look into this enchantment.”

  George adamantly shook his head. “It stays closed.”

  Dustin added, “They will not find any enchantment. I still couldn’t.”

  Curious, George asked, “What do you mean?”

  “His mages are Academy–trained. The tapestry is not, intrinsically, a work of magery. I would know if it were. They will no more understand what the tapestry represents than I do.”

  Erianda paled. The scrying to Llewelyn had gone easily enough. His contemporary was less than gracious at being disturbed in his sanctum.

  “A tapestry in the Great Hall? Why ever would you disturb me about that old thing? Yes, I remember it well! Have not seen it since the last true Llewellyn’s death more than thirty years ago... Likely that old witch, the Llewellyn’s mother stole the thing when she fled.”

  “The Llewellyn’s mother?”

  The wrinkled elf smiled thinly, “She was my last real challenge. She fought to save her foolish son and her granddaughter was properly sacrificed. The old witch ran away... She would have died, otherwise. Smart, she was.”

  “So you think she took the tapestry, but where…?” then everything changed.

  One moment he had been speaking with his counterpart in Llewellyn, and in the next, the old elf changed. A much younger elfblood was answering him. “You waste my time with these stupid questions. I know nothing of any tapestry.”

  With a wave of the younger dark mage’s hand, the scrying abruptly ended.

  Erianda trembled.

  Terhun presented his report to the Lyai. His Lordship read the brief missive and frowned. He held it up and fanned it. “You surprise me, Terhun.”

  “Milord?”

  “Such an innocent looking expression, my friend. I have come to know that you are at your most dangerous when you wear that expression. You investigated the merchant, even used the Faeryn journeyman, but learned nothing of value?”

  “He is a foreigner of no particular interest.”

  “What of…” the Lyai struggled to remember and glanced at the

  initial report that had brought their attention to the newcomers, then with great difficulty said, “…what of the mage who was on the list that has vanished?”

  Terhun blinked at him in surprise. The Lyai actually remembered when not even the team of mages he worked with remembered any longer. That settled matters for him. “Lord Erianda was recently seen at the Mage Guild for the first time in decades.”

  The Lyai sat back, knowing that boded ill. “Your people tracking him again?”

  “Briefly. He has gone to ground again, but we know he is somewhere in the city.”

  “Then find him!”

  “We are doing our best, Milord, but it will not be easy.”

  “No doubt,” the Lyai muttered in response and frowned. Erianda had once been a trusted advisor of his grandsire’s, then he had betrayed him. He would be more than two hundred years old now and shook his head, thinking he must be actually a bit younger. The Lyai shook his head, remembered scryed past images of his dread nemesis. Yet, the face seemed to change in memory. The Lyai abruptly stared at Terhun, who seemed fascinated by his momentary confusion. In sudden insight he knew that Terhun was hiding something. “Care to share the truth with me?”

  Terhun was fanatically loyal; Service training made that a certainty. “Not yet, Milord... I have a suspicion, but not much more.”

  “When you do, I expect you to report more fully than this missive.”

  “Of course, milord.” Terhun actually had the effrontery to look aggrieved.

  Merchants

  Chapter 26

  “Absolutely not,” Se’and said as they walked down the market street.

  “Jewelry! Cunningly crafted!” shouted a youth hawking the nearest shopkeeper’s wares.

  “Why? You don’t want to send your brother a gift?” George asked.

  She shook her head, “It would be a stupid risk.”

  “And exactly why would that be?” Then ever so softly so that only she might hear added, “I agree if we proclaimed the gift as coming from a Cathartan Lord by Bond the Demonlord’s agents would likely come running; however, gifts being sent to a distant land by a flamboyant foreign merchant are another matter altogether.”

  She glared at him as Fri’il and Raven both disguised as servant lads halted near the shop’s door. “Perhaps, you might see something that you would like me to buy for you?”

  Her eyes widened, “That’s ridiculous. There is nothing I need.”

  With a thin smile, George Bradley gave a mock bow. “Oh, do try to hide your most noble u
pbringing.”

  Fri’il gaped, then as Se’and’s gaze began to narrow in anger, she hastened close and grabbed her hand, “Milady, such wonderful goods! Come see for yourself!”

  Se’and grimaced, suddenly hating the part she must play. “Very well.”

  George grinned broadly, leaning momentarily on his staff, which momentarily seemed to glitter with light. Raven glanced quickly around them as she heard a mental quip, which her foster-father ignored. Luckily no one seemed to have noticed. She shook her head, wondering if she would ever understand her foster family.

  The jeweler preened, “That’s a fine piece.”

  George frowned in concentration. His vision became keenly focused.

  “The cut is imperfect,” he muttered, then blinked as he heard the faintest gasp of startlement from the jeweler.

  “You seem well versed.”

  Se’and smiled thinly, “Such is a good merchant’s trade.”

  The jeweler nodded with a frown. George noticed another piece, “May I see that one?”

  Hastily, the jeweler brought forth a carefully warded display box. Several rings lay within.

  “May I take a closer look?”

  “I’m sorry, but the spell is most precise. I must carefully watch my wares, you understand.”

  George nodded, “Se’and, what do you think of that one on the left?”

  She looked at it and asked, “Is it enchanted?”

  “Only in the crafting, Milady.”

  “It is very beautiful,” she said with a wistful smile.

  George looked at her, asking, “How much?”

  “One hundred gold Imperials.”

  He nodded, “That much? I take it that it was crafted by mages who were Academy trained.”

  But of course, good sir.”

  George shook his head, “Then it is not good enough for you, my dear. Let us go.” He took Se’and’s arm and turned toward the door.

  “What?” the jeweler sputtered. “Milord! These are among my finest rings!”

  Frowning, George turned and shook his head, “I have heard that the Academy–trained only half–heartedly spell the tools that the Masters use in Lyai... What I am looking for… only those with true care would imbue with the spirit necessary to craft the finest