“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Ah yes, the foundling child of the Wasteland,” Zerandan said. “Your adoption was quite the scandal, you know. That was fifteen years ago?”
“Yes, sir,” Toria said again. “Something like that.” She hoped he hadn’t come to reminisce about a past she had just sketchy memories of. She sensed magic around him, almost leaking out of his pores. But when she opened her senses to investigate further, the spikes were there again, driving through her head.
When she managed to open her eyes after this latest wave of pain passed, she found Zerandan’s eyes mere inches from her own. He knelt on the ground by her couch, cane discarded, two of his fingers resting feather-light on her upraised cheek. “Don’t do that again.” The humor left Zerandan’s voice, replaced by concern. “At least not until I tell you to.”
This time she couldn’t even manage a “Yes, sir.” Toria nodded once. She rubbed away the tracks of tears leading from her eyes to the pillow.
“How often does this happen?”
He was all business now, the paternal figure replaced with a mage who must equal Asaron in experience of years. Maybe more. “Every time I try to use magic. No, every time I even try to actively sense magic.”
“And which were you doing just now?”
His fingers remained on her cheek, and she felt his power pressing against her own. She shied away from it but didn’t try to block him out. “You felt like magic. It’s habit to check. One of those things you do.”
“One of those things.” Zerandan closed his eyes, but humor was still evident in his voice. “Yes, I see. So. Tell me exactly what you were doing when this feeling first occurred.”
Toria sketched out the events of the brief battle with the Roman soldiers, concluding with feeling the backlash of the power she’d poured into Kane and passing out on the riverbank. “But I don’t think this is a backlash headache. I thought it was, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve had them before, and this is different, somehow.”
“You tried to harness the power of a river, child.” His eyes opened again, the amusement back in place. “You thought this would be a normal backlash headache?”
“But those are usually constant pain for a few hours,” Toria said. “Like when I woke up, I had a bad headache, but then it passed. Right now I’m fine unless I actually try to do something.”
“Like contact your partner?”
“Exactly.” Wait a second. “How did you know I’ve been trying to do that?”
“I could see it.” Without bothering to explain his particular insight any further, Zerandan continued, “I have had some experience with warrior-mage pairs over the years. They don’t do well apart.”
“We manage okay,” Toria said.
“Since you’ve bonded, what’s the longest the two of you have been separated? By both distance and time.”
Zerandan’s eyes bored into her, and Toria avoided his stare by looking up at Max’s office ceiling. It was an old building—there was some water damage in one of the corners. “Three days? Well, a weekend, I guess, when I went camping with Dad, and Kane couldn’t miss play rehearsal. We did almost break the partnership in high school, but we were still in school together all day, so the distance bit doesn’t really count.”
“Do you know what happens when warrior-mages are separated for too long?” Zerandan removed his fingers and retrieved his cane. His eyes never left her while he pushed himself to his feet.
That didn’t sound good. “It’s never been a problem for us. And there haven’t been any warrior-mages in Limani in so long. The only other person I know who’s met a pair is Mama, and she never mentioned anything bad to me,” Toria said. “So I don’t know, sir.” She braced herself for bad news.
“Neither do I, as a matter of fact,” Zerandan said, dropping down onto the couch behind him. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
Toria released the breath she’d been holding. Age must make you crazy. This reminded her of the pranks Asaron played. “Well, do you know what’s wrong with me?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve scanned you lightly, but I wanted to warn you before I went any deeper. This might not be a purely internal problem.”
Magical theory was Kane’s department, but Toria could still put the pieces together. “You think I might have been cursed?”
“You said you didn’t know why the Romans left you behind?”
“Mama thinks it was a warning,” Toria said. “Rome is a really patriarchal society. It makes sense they would leave behind the useless girl and take the two men who are more valuable hostages, who they might get ransom for.”
“Were any of the group who attacked you mages?” Zerandan said.
“I don’t know,” Toria said. She thought back, feeling the breeze of the arrow brushing past her once more. “They shot at me and were fighting Kane and Asaron with swords and hand-to-hand. Wouldn’t any mages have used magic against us? Especially since they were the attackers and would have had time to plan spells or effects against us.”
“This is a moot point,” Zerandan said. “There’s no way to know for sure. The real question becomes, will the proximity of someone else’s magic give you the same pain?”
“Well, unless I’ve suddenly developed an allergy to magic, I guess that would be a pretty good test of whether I’ve been cursed or whether this really is some insanely strong form of backlash headache.”
“Will you allow me to do a deeper scan of your magic?” Zerandan balanced the cane against the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. “It can be a personal experience for the person at the receiving end. You’ll have to completely lower your shields for me.”
She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done that. Could she even bring herself to do it for a strange mage, even if he was an elf and Daliana’s grandfather?
But she needed to find out what was wrong with her. It might not be an easy fix, but the sooner she found out what was going on, the better. “Let’s do it.”
“I still vote to be rid of the Humanists.” Bethany raised her chin in defiance to those around her. “Get free of one problem so we can focus on what might, I don’t know, wipe us all out.”
Victory saw that Genevieve looked ready to launch herself out of her seat, inching to the edge of the couch but restrained by Tristan’s gentle touch on her arm. Both of them seemed to be taking turns being the silent voice of reason. Better than either of them starting an actual fight. “I cannot believe you would advocate such a thing, lady.”
Bethany opened her mouth to retort, but Lorus beat her to it, waving her silent with a slice of his hand. “Bethany, I did not invite you here so you could tell us to kill people.”
This needed to stop before everyone got too wired. It looked like Victory wasn’t alone in her lack of sleep. “The problem,” she said, “is that Bethany’s idea is sound. It’s her method that’s flawed.”
“What are you talking about?” Tristan said. “The woman’s crazy.” He’d managed to pull Genevieve back onto the couch, and now both of them sat with hands gripped tight. Victory would have thought it charming except for the white knuckles indicating the death grip each had on the other.
“Question.” Max’s turn to head off an outburst from Bethany. “How many of us here have actual military experience?”
Victory raised her hand, along with Max. To her surprise, Lorus did, too.
Lorus shrugged when everyone looked at him askance. “Well, it depends on what you consider military experience. It was a long time ago, before I immigrated to Limani. A short time in the British Air Corp out of Eire. I never saw combat.”
“But you were still trained, and you must know the basic goal behind every fight,” Max said. “Victory, you’re in a swordfight. What do you watch? Your opponent’s blade?”
“Their eyes.” She’d never been much for formal fencing since the masks interfered with the specific part of Asaron’s training so ingrained in her. “A sword can feint in any direction. The eyes never lie.”
“Good.” Max entered full teaching mode. “So what do we need to do to the Humanists?”
Tristan gave a grin full of pure feral hunger. “Cut out their eyes?”
“Something like that,” Max said. “We need subtlety here. Can’t let them know we’re on to them, despite the fact that they haven’t exactly hidden their intent.”
“We can’t let them hold this meeting,” said Lena. “We can’t afford to let them become any more organized than they already are.”
“Find an excuse to close down the Twilight Mists,” Genevieve said.
“And every other major gathering place in Limani? The theater, the high school auditorium?” Lorus shook his head. “I don’t think so. Perhaps cutting off the head instead of removing the eyes might be a better allegory.”
“We need to find Emily Fabbri,” Victory said. “Find her, get her under control.”
“Our control,” Tristan said. “Preferably somewhere the other Humanists won’t go looking for her.”
“I’ll deal with that once we track her down,” Daliana said. “They can search the city all they want, but they’re not going to think of looking on another plane of existence, in the elfhames. And I don’t trust her safety anywhere else.” Her eyes did not leave Bethany.
“Excellent plan,” Max said. “She’s been implicated in the attacks last night, and the police are already looking for her. I can set the mercenaries on the chase in the morning.”
“Consider my panthers at your disposal,” Genevieve said.
“The wolves are already on the hunt,” Tristan said. “After this is over, I’ll put out the word that they’re not allowed to kill her if they find her.” He didn’t look happy about the idea, but Victory knew he would bow to the wishes of the council majority. At least this part of the council.
“We should still do something about a few of the meeting places,” Victory said. This was one area she had plenty of ideas about. “I can manufacture a reason to shut down the Twilight Mists. It’s easy enough to find an old file in my library I never turned over to the new owners with information about hazardous insulation.”
“And everywhere else?” Bethany said. Her voice dared Victory to come up with such a large plan.
Lorus spoke first. “The owner of the movie theatre is a werebear. He certainly won’t let them hold a meeting there.”
“And I can talk to the principal of the high school,” Lena said. “Convince him not to let them move there. If he argues, I can get Sethri to order him not to since the school is public property and under the command of this council. They’re not going to get the auditorium at the university while I have anything to say about it. Those are the first places they’ll try to arrange, so that will delay them at least a day or two.”
Max made a few notes on his pad. “Speaking of Sethri, you really think he’s solidly on our side? The only reason I didn’t invite him tonight was because I wasn’t sure how you all would feel about it. His is an elected position.”
“I’ve known the man for decades,” Lena said. “He firmly believes in the tenets Limani was founded on, of freedom and justice.”
Victory had also known Alexander Sethri since he was first elected to the council almost forty years ago. He had been there the longest after her. “I’ll second that.”
“I’ll be sure to invite him next time, then,” Max said. “That takes care of the preliminary problem the blasted Humanists have presented us with, that stupid meeting. Now what are we going to do about the Romans?”
Toria dragged one of the couch cushions onto the ground, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders to sit against the couch. Zerandan sat cross-legged on the carpet a few feet in front of her with his cane resting on his lap. Something told her it wasn’t just a simple cane—maybe it was the emerald orb that appeared, replacing the original wooden handle. A neat trick, one she filed away under the mental folder labeled “Things to experiment with later.”
“Are you comfortable, child?” Zerandan rubbed his hands together and rolled up his shirt cuffs.
“I was more concerned for you, sir,” Toria said, pulling the warm blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“I’m not so old that I can’t sit on a floor,” he said. “I’ve barely topped two thousand!”
She wasn’t going to give him the reward of shock. “That would surprise me more except that you’re about the same age as my grandfather. Sorry.”
“Ah, the cynicism of youth,” Zerandan said. “Let’s get started, shall we? I’ll shield around us both, and you can drop yours underneath. If it’s magic itself you’ve acquired an allergy to, at least you’ll only sense mine.” He surveyed Max’s study. “You know our host better than I. Is there anything in particular nearby that I should be worried about?”
Toria pointed to the bookcases on either side of the larger window overlooking the training room. “There are some magic books there, and a few charms and talismans in the box on the second shelf. Everything really powerful is in a safe that’s already warded and shielded under the desk, but I don’t think those will be a problem.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word on that,” Zerandan said.
“You have to,” Toria said. “I helped to shield and ward it.”
“A good reason indeed.” Zerandan rolled the cane over his knees, wrapping his fingers around the emerald orb. “Ready, child? Give me to the count of ten heartbeats after I drop my hand, then release your shields.”
This was it. “Okay.”
Zerandan closed his eyes and lifted his right hand, reminding Toria of her father pretending to direct orchestras from the stereo. Like a conductor, his hand dropped, and Toria counted.
At four heartbeats, she almost jolted out of her concentration by the white shimmer that began to distort the room around them. By seven, it encased them in a wide dome Toria knew continued into a full sphere below the floor of Max’s office.
Eight brought Toria back on task, and she laid a mental finger on the invisible button in her head she hadn’t used in years, the one that brought all of her protections down in one fell swoop. Kane was the only other person with access to that switch, and he helped her craft many of the protections around it.
At nine, she braced herself.
On ten, she pressed the cartoon red button labeled “Off” in her head.
The light from the shimmering white shield exploded around her, and Toria closed her eyes against the double brilliance of the physical and magical sight of Zerandan’s power. Her shields protected her from every spark of magic in the world being visible to her sensitive mind, and she no longer had that shelter to hide behind.
She risked a peek, keeping her eyelids cracked to prevent the light of the shield from blinding her. To her shock, she could even see echoes of other colors from the bookshelves behind Zerandan’s shields, the magical items it contained shining through.
It all paled in comparison to the brilliant aura surrounding Zerandan. She thought that Kane’s aura of earthen magic was powerful. It was nothing compared to the ancient viridian power flowing across and under Zerandan’s skin.
Her own prismatic purple shields were gone, but motes of electric energy still danced around her. Her eyes adjusted to the brilliance, and she let the sparks entrance her, keeping her distracted from the eerie “rummaging” feeling going on in her head. Zerandan’s touch was light, but she could still feel his power tracing through her, searching out the problem.
After no more than a minute, the touch receded and Zerandan gestured with his hand again. Taking that for the signal to bring her shields back up, she waited a few more second
s to be sure he was gone before rebuilding. First came the walls around her mind itself, and the blinding lights around her began to pale. Then she reconstructed her familiar crystalline shields.
Her mind once again her own, protected in mind and body from the onslaught of the world of magic around her, Toria slouched against the couch. She now realized how tense she had become. “Anything?”
“I’m sorry, child.” Zerandan’s calm had never faltered, but his eyes filled with regret. “You felt no pain just now? I kept my probe purely mental, but I was worried my shield or other items in the room might have an adverse effect on you.”
“Nope. I’m still tired, but nothing actually hurt.” She tried to look on the bright side. “So at least I’m not allergic to other magic. And I still have control over my shields.”
“Shielding is not technically active magic, because over the years it has become an innate part of you,” Zerandan said. “Like you can still feel the link between yourself and your partner.”
“Then we know the limits to all this,” Toria said. “Active attempts at magic equal horrible headaches. Got it.”
“And since you are still able to manipulate your passive magic,” Zerandan said, “then I think we can safely say you’ve been cursed.”
“You know, the Romans haven’t contacted us,” Lena said. “Did we ever really establish that this was indeed an invading force?”
“I think the attack and kidnapping made it pretty clear,” Victory said. They were going around in circles again. If possible, she thought this half of the council might be more ineffectual than the whole at making a decision on such a grand scale. Now that they had a temporary plan of action against the Humanist problem, everyone seemed reluctant to make any further commitments. She drained the last vestiges of her coffee, then set the empty mug on the floor by her feet.
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 14