by D. H. Aire
The oldest mage said, “Galt, I’ve never felt better in my life. We should enchant swords more often.”
Galt frowned, having had a similar thought himself. “Let’s get to it, then. It’s not like we’ve all the time in the world before the Mage Guild catches on.”
“Go up there!” his wife shouted.
“But…”
“No, buts, ands, or ifs… find out what they’ve done to our inn!”
“Uh, yes, dear…”
He went upstairs, and upstairs, and upstairs. He looked back downstairs at his wife and the staff, all cousins of hers although this inn had been in his family for generations, were staring back up and him.
“Get up there!”
“Uh, yes, dear…”
He went upstairs again. He groaned, it was going to be a long night; although, it was daylight outside. Actually, it looked kind of peaceful, all things considered. He glanced back, thinking it was much more peaceful than dealing with his wife and her irritating relatives.
Enchanting the second sword seemed almost effortless, Galt thought, as they completed the forms. He gestured to Dustin, who opened the door to the next room, and stopped and stared, “Uh, Master Galt.”
“What, lad?”
“There wasn’t a corridor here before, was there?”
“What?”
Ten curious Faeryn mages were difficult to prevent from exploring, but Master Galt had been the one left in charge for a reason. “No one goes out there! First, we figure out what we’ve done.”
“What have we done, Galt?” Master Daffid said.
“Do you think this is Guild magery?” Galt retorted.
That brought laughter. “Point taken,” Master Kith muttered.
“So, is it me, or do all of us look like we’ve just woken up refreshed after
a good night’s sleep rather than after two major enchantments?” Galt
asked.
“I’m not even hungry and I was ravenous after working in the making of that other bane sword at the Hall,” Haft said.
“Is anyone hungry?” Galt asked.
“Uh, I feel full,” Dustin offered.
Galt nodded, “So do I… Now why is that?”
Dustin said, “I, uh, read a comment, uh, somewhere about something like this.”
“In one of those books Talik had you liberate?” Master Snide asked.
“Um, yeah,” he said in a small voice.
“What was it in reference to, lad?” Galt asked.
“Something called a ‘node.’”
“A what?”
“Oh, oh,” Master Haft said, “my grandfather warned me to never tap one.”
“What is it?” Galt asked.
“Grandfather told me to never speak of it –– elves had a tendency to die after talking about them when he was child,” Haft stated. “No one seemed to know his Master had even given him a basic lesson in them.”
“Well, seeing as how we may die not knowing, we defer to your teachings, old friend,” Galt said.
Master Haft nodded, “The Empire is built on nodes, they harness
power and used to feed the wards of say, the palace or the city… and grandfather said they could do other things, but if you accidentally tapped one, well, rather bad things could happen.”
“Like what?”
“He warned they could kill you, if you didn’t know what you were doing.”
“Did he?” Galt asked Master Haft.
“No, but we don’t, either.”
A journeyman went to the front door and looked down another long corridor. “We can’t just stay here.”
“Well, we’re not splitting up!” Galt said. He glanced at the wards which were glowing on the ceiling, actually bright enough they were provide substantial light. “We’re going to explore the wards and see if we can’t return to a, uh, proper perspective.”
He gestured and everyone sat, knowing this could take a while.
A Night Not to Remember
Chapter 41
“Je’orj, what are we going to do?” Se’and asked.
“Well, I got us into this mess,” he muttered.
“You did not do it alone,” he heard himself reply.
“Staff, do shut up.”
“Now, that is rather impolite. I am trying to help, after all,” he heard himself say.
Se’and shook her head, glancing at the glowing staff. “You really are alive, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am, Se’and,” Staff replied. “George, I have an idea.”
“Oh, let me guess, we’re going to try to undo what we did before.”
“Well, do you have a better idea?”
“No.”
Fri’il shook her head, seeing Je’orj talk to himself. “Raven, do they talk to each other like
that all the time?”
“Yep.”
“George, you know what could happen after we do this level of prime functional,” Staff said.
“I know… Se’and, there’s a very good chance that I’m going to do more than pass out.”
She glanced at Fri’il, “Je’orj, then how about you get in bed first. Picking you up off the floor and getting you into bed’s becoming quite tedious.”
Frowning, he nodded, “I suppose that could save time.”
“It is not like I enjoy the experience, either, George,” he heard himself add.
“Raven, if this works, we’re bound to have guests.”
“Servant?”
“Yes,” he said, “you’ll have to wear clothes.”
“But you not.”
Se’and chuckled, “He’s going to get rather cold, my dear.”
“Rather fast,” Fri’il added. “It’s going to be no fun at all.”
“Small favors,” he muttered; undressing and trying not to pay attention to Se’and and Fri’il doing the same as he tried not to contemplate this primitive but effective means of fighting hypothermia.
The eleven mages raised magefire which rose out of their hands and shot to the center of the circle, linking their energies. Master Galt became the focus as the wards around them began to blaze.
“Grandfather told me the nodes each have names,” Haft offered as he remembered, “named for the place they serve!”
“Lyai,” Galt muttered and all the Faeryn began to chorus. “Lyai!”
“How’s this?” Se’and whispered in his ear.
“Um,” he muttered with the staff under the covers with him. He hoped the added contact might mitigate the worst of what this level primary functional might do to him. “Staff, let’s just do this.”
Fri’il kissed him, “Good luck.”
“We are going to need it,” he heard himself say.
George glanced at the hilt of the bane sword she had slipped under the covers. “Keep that handy, but not too handy.”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, chuckling.
He set his head back onto his pillow, “Engage, level one rapport.”
:Engaging.:
The staff blazed with light that showed even through the heavy blankets. Se’and muttered, “Is it me, or is it already getting cold
under here?”
Raven hurried to the bed, “What wrong?”
“Uh,” Fri’il replied, glancing under the blankets, “there’s frost on Staff.” Her teeth began to chatter.
Se’and muttered, “That’s different.”
Raven frowned fearing the two women would not be able to crack the building ice.
“Staff?” she muttered.
#
Enrapport, Staff and George felt like they were scanning downward toward the node, seemingly, for hours not minutes. :George, we are not alone.:
“I see that.” he muttered.
:There are eleven of them.:
It’s got to be the Faeryn, George thought.
:We will never be able to undo the link unobserved.:
Well, what about moving it?
:The probability of our succ
essfully transferring the link and not…: Staff began.
“Probabilities?” George whispered. “What’s the probability we’d fall through an elvin gate across the universe?”
:Point taken. So, where would you like to transfer it to?:
“Oh, I can think of one place.”
The node found itself no longer alone. It felt the twisting of a recently awoken linkage, and now had the ability to warn of the dangerous energy levels. Yet, the elvin presences did not seem to understand…
Very well, tutorial mode engaged.
Knowledge filled them, offering LY–AI new conduits, and… the awoken linkage transferred locus. The node was confused, but satisfied as its conduits recognized the newly selected position.
It approved. Very well, disengaging tutorial mode.
George opened his frost covered eyes as Se’and and Fri’il chaffed and warmed him as best they could. “Je’orj, thank the Lords, you’re back.”
“Wha…?”
Fri’il impulsively kissed him, “This was the worst ever. You nearly froze.”
“You nearly froze us!”
There was a knock at the bedroom door. “Um.”
Raven opened the door a crack.
“Uh, we’ve finished the bane swords,” they heard Dustin say.
Raven nodded.
“The sword we promised will need to be keyed to Lady Se’and,” he added.
Raven nodded, “Good day.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, all sleeping.”
“You didn’t notice anything, uh, peculiar?”
“Hmm?” Raven asked, innocently.
“Uh, never mind. Lady Se’and can key the sword by being the next person to touch its hilt with her bare hand… Otherwise, it can key to anyone.”
“I tell. Good day.”
“Uh, fine, then, we’ll be going then.”
The innkeeper was about to knock on the door to the merchant’s apartment when mage after mage exited. He stepped back, clearly frightened. The door closed behind then a moment, then opened again and two more exited.
The older of the two was grinning, “Ah, good night.”
“Tis mornin’,” the innkeeper muttered.
“Of course, it is,” Master Galt replied. “Well, we’d best be on our way.”
Dustin glanced back and said, “I wouldn’t disturb them, if I were
you. They’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” the innkeeper muttered, fearing the young elfblood was describing a particularly dread spell. “I… uh, I won’t. I most certainly won’t.”
He went back down the stairs, the very familiar and ordinary stairs. His wife and her kin were gaping. Dustin shut the entry door behind them.
“Why didn’t you go inside, Aurno!” his wife yelled.
“Uh, they’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping? We can’ts have they’re like stayin’ here no longer! You’s tell them to leave right quick!”
He stared at her and straightened. “Not today, I’m not, woman! You lot, we don’t speak of last night ever! Understand me!?”
They stared at him.
“Understand me!”
“Yes, Uncle,” a few chorused.
He glared at them.
“Yes, Sir!” they all chorused, save his speechless wife.
“Now be about your duties, off with you!” he shouted. They fled, even his wife, however slow she was about it.
He blinked, glancing back upstairs. The younger of the merchant’s servants was now coming down the steps. “Master Aurno, need hot broth… tea.”
“I’ll see to it. I’ll have one of the lads bring up the tea when it’s ready – and see to that vegetable broth your master seems partial to.” The servant nodded and went back upstairs.
He didn’t want to know. Whether they were still sleeping or very much awake, he much preferred dealing with his wife’s kin –– much preferred it.
Se’and crawled out of the covers and put on a heavy robe, then went into the next room, leaving Fri’il to finish warming Je’orj. She stared at the bane sword, her sword, with the sigil of House of Ryff. The metal gleamed in a way it never had before and the metal itself, was a mirror of Fri’il’s own. Her hilt was less ornate than the House of Erone wrought blade, but it was no less beautiful to her. She drew it and felt recognition and kinship. She smiled, never had a sword felt so much a part of her body.
Still a bit chilled, she tossed off her robe and began dancing the sword practice forms. Raven returned and watched, thinking the motions were one of fluid beauty and that her foster–mother was as much an animal as she, herself, was.
Constandine stared into the blue flames as one of his Mage Guild journeymen exited the inn’s reinforced wards. He stumbled and fell, looked up, and apparently said, “They’re gone.”
“I know that you fool!”
The journeyman could not hear him, he knew, but what he saw next explained much.
A group of Faeryn mages carrying a bane sword strode out of the inn. They paused and frowned, “Too late, we’ve our sword.”
“But… but where are they?” the journeyman asked.
“Who?” Master Haft asked.
“The… Masters I came here with!”
“Oops,” Master Kith muttered.
“Sorry,” Master Daffid said, “We haven’t seen them. Send our regards to Archmage Constandine.”
Master Galt saw the Mage Guild journeyman run down the street.
“Daffid, what was that about?”
“Seems the Guild’s misplaced some mages who, apparently, stopped by for a visit.”
“Oh… OH!” Galt laughed.
The scrying magefires snuffed out as Archmage Constandine screamed in rage.
Rivals
Chapter 42
The coach took them to the restaurant. Se’and smiled at him. It was impossible for George not notice how beautiful this, oh, so deadly woman was. She was an excellent bodyguard – a position which made her, uh, family, since she considered herself his wife by Bond. What made it worse was it was not her alone. The short-haired servant next to her was dressed as a boy. She wasn’t. Fri’il took her oaths as seriously as her former Cathartan sister–in–law. They considered themselves closer to sisters.
He chalked this one up to the old adage, “No good deed goes unpunished.” The young woman’s glances while they rode the coach were anything but coy.
They jostled slightly upon the stone streets before the coach finally slowed and came to a stop. The coachman opened the door. “Master d’Aere,” the man muttered as he stepped forth, “I shall water the horses. When you are ready to leave, you will find me hence.”
George nodded, taking Se’and’s arms and escorting her inside. He inwardly smiled, sensing her confusion. This game was not one of her choosing, however much she seemed born to it. The maitre d’ bowed, gesturing them into the dining room, then frowned as the boy servants moved to follow. “You may eat by the bar.”
Raven bared her teeth as Fri’il hurriedly nodded, “My Lord.”
George hastily shook his head, “Give them a table by the door. I want them close by.”
The maitre d’ frowned before replying, “But, of course, sir.”
Raven smiled, delighted, then before George turned away he mentally gave her a cuff. A sudden look of contrition crossed Raven’s face before she, carefully in keeping with her role, more meekly followed Fri’il to their table. Se’and sighed in relief, happy disaster had been averted.
“I told you to separate them,” rasped the owner to the maitre d’.
“But, sir…”
“Get them out of here. The older servant there… that lad can be easily enticed to get some air, I should think.”
Swallowing hard, the maitre d’ nodded, “Of course, sir. It shall be done at once.”
The restaurateur leaned back in his chair and glanced at the wealthy merchant and his mistress. Grinning thinly, he muttered, “You will lea
rn a very important lesson tonight. The cunning grow richer, the foolish, poorer.”
A serving girl brought them their menus as the maitre d’ looked at them in mild disgust. Raven’s gaze narrowed with dislike. She didn’t trust the man. However, the serving girl was so pleasant, she began to relax.
However, Fri’il was becoming uncomfortably uneasy. The serving girl’s smile was directed at her – the apparently handsome young servant. She brought them their meals, she bent, lingering long of enough to display her modest bosom. Fri’il coughed, blushing.
Raven frowned, concerned. “Are –– you ill?”
Amusement twinkled in the serving girl’s eye as she paused to state, “Should you desire anything after your dinner, entertainment rooms await your leisure.” Then, she added, meeting Fri’il’s gaze, “I would be honored to give personal service.”
“Our Master would not be pleased.” but the girl had already gone. Raven looked at her, puzzled.
Fri’il ate almost perfunctorily before she said, “Raven, there’s no need for you to mention any of this to Je’orj or Se’and.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “Fine,” she muttered, wondering just what exactly Fri’il felt she should not mention.
Appetite returned, Fri’il was just finishing her main course when the serving girl returned anxiously. “Sir, your coachman wishes to speak with you; although, he wishes not to disturb your Master.”
Fri’il glanced at Raven, tensing instantly. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Raven nodded as Fri’il rose and followed the serving girl outside. She looked uneasily toward Je’orj and Se’and’s table. She unconsciously sniffed the air, seeking the scent of magery. Yet, she detected nothing and willed herself not to overreact. They were safe. Those that hunted them had lost their track. Nothing to worry about, she told herself, yet she had a nagging feeling that they were, indeed, in trouble again. The question was what to do about it.
“What’s your name?”
Fri’il turned as she came to the entry and saw the serving girl standing there.