Shadowmage: Book Nine Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  “Which brings me to my next item,” Hance continued, briskly. “Apart from our other business, Sir Rondal, it appears as if Gatina’s fascination with you is lingering. In fact, it seems to be getting worse.”

  Rondal winced. “Sorry about that, my lord!”

  “It is not your doing,” sighed the thief. “I have a spirited daughter, who resembles her mother in that fashion more than I do. I am used to her outrageous ways and her willingness to obsess about her craft. But there is more to courting Gatina than merely dancing and drinking in some lovely cottage,” he said, darkly, evidently all too aware of the luscious few days alone with Gatina he’d enjoyed. Considering all they had done in the little cottage, Rondal suddenly became concerned that Master Hance was acting the vengeful father over his daughter’s virtue.

  But Hance’s consideration was less lethal – he supposed. “A mother who is passing eager to meet the young man who has managed to captivate our kitten as completely as you have.”

  “Sir, I assure you I have not encouraged—”

  “Oh, I know,” Hance interrupted. “I do not blame you for her infatuation. She has always been a willful child, more apt to challenge than direction. But Gatina is not a flighty ingénue, my lord. She is dedicated to her craft.”

  “One of the things I appreciate about her,” Rondal nodded, guardedly.

  “I, as well. But if she’s set her cap on you, Sir Rondal, I hope you understand if I must investigate her longings and the man who inspires them. It is a father’s duty.”

  “I understand completely, my lord,” Rondal nodded.

  “I am unsure that you do,” Hance said, frowning. “I like you, lad; you seem to be a trustworthy and intelligent man, and driven to duty. An admirable knight in a world full of chivalric disappointments.”

  “Thank you, my lord!”

  “Yet,” Hance continued, “that does not eliminate my duties as Gatina’s father. There are plenty of admirable knights in the world. My daughter has eyes for only one.”

  The threat implicit in the statement was both subtle and profound. Rondal felt like dodging it, but he knew that Master Hance would likely be suspicious of such a tactic.

  “Speak plainly, Sir,” he prompted. “What question would you put to me?”

  “Just what are your feelings and intentions in regard to my daughter, Sir Rondal?” Master Hance asked, formally.

  “My lord, I have only the highest respect and greatest of affections for Gatina anna Salaines,” he said, feeling his entire life change as he said the words. “While I am currently restrained by oath, my heart and my mind both aspire to her.”

  “And this is not mere affectation in order to secure our assistance for Duke Anguin?”

  Rondal sighed. “Master Hance, while I am considered a reasonably intelligent strategist and a favorite for suicidal missions, I assure you that I have no talent for such manipulations in my personal life. I was as surprised by Gatina’s interest in me as anyone, and after the shock of her pursuit waned, I discovered myself enchanted by her.”

  “That still does not satisfy a father’s worries,” Hance said, shaking his head. “Should you prove callous with her heart, or foreswear her for another while she yet loves you, friend or not, we shall have words, Sir Rondal. And in my House, when a father takes issue with a lad over his daughter, traditionally it is resolved in one – permanent – manner.”

  Rondal swallowed. But he answered as bravely as he could. “My lord, my intentions toward Gatina are nothing but honorable,” he stated, as clearly as he could. “And in truth, as intimidated as I am by you right now, I am far, far more concerned over her reaction to my unfaithfulness than yours.”

  That caught Hance off-guard and he laughed unexpectedly. “As well you should, Sir Rondal. For a vengeful father is but a shadow of the darkness a heartbroken girl can conjure . . . and when that girl is adept as my daughter, I would consider carefully before breaking her heart.”

  “Understood, my lord,” Rondal nodded. “Then . . . you have no objection to me courting Gatina?”

  “Objections?” he grinned. “You are the first man she’s fallen for. I was worried I would have to rely on Atopol and his brother for grandchildren, so choosy was Gatina over the quality of her husband. But she has surprised me and her mother by the quality of her choice. Do not destroy that perception, Sir Rondal,” he warned. “My daughter is happy, in a way I never thought I’d see her. For whatever reason she wants you. Treat that desire with respect and due attention, and we will have no issues between us.”

  “Sir, you realize that if Gatina’s affections are fulfilled, then—”

  “Then you’ll be my son-in-law?” Hance supplied. “Why yes, Sir Rondal, it has occurred to me. And while marrying my daughter someday might make her happy, I assure you that it will only begin a far more detailed scrutiny of your life by her mother and I. You will not merely be marrying my daughter. You will be marrying into my family, a family with a long and storied history of taking extreme actions to protect itself.”

  “I would expect nothing less, considering the fine daughter you have both raised.”

  “Wise words, Sir Rondal,” Hance said, grinning. “And I’m not unsympathetic. Gatina’s maternal grandfather was a blacksmith, her grandmother a Calrom witch . . . and Minny was the best thief I’ve ever met, inside my family or out. I love her dearly.

  “But when her father gave this same speech to me, he ended it with a handshake that nearly broke my fingers, and a far more dire and explicit warning of what would happen if I chanced to break his daughter’s heart. He was not a subtle man,” he added. “And the words ‘beat your face across my anvil until the white meat pops out’ were used. Surely you are a subtle enough wizard to understand our position without me resorting to such crude imagery?”

  Rondal sighed. “Yes, my lord. And if I was in your position, I would have the same response. I can only vow to treat your daughter’s heart with as much care as I can.”

  “Then we have an understanding,” Hance sighed. “Good. Her mother will be pleased.

  “But you, Sir Rondal, are now under my eye . . . and the Spawn of Shadows has a thousand eyes, far beyond Enultramar. Betray my daughter or our family . . . and you will pray for the relatively quick death of having your brains bashed out over an anvil.

  “Now . . . let’s go over this preliminary list of potential confederates. I think we have some very promising names, here . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A Conspiracy Of Cats

  The broad fields and orchards of the Coastlands provinces provided the early Magocracy’s nobility with the resources they needed to contend with the Sea Lords. While the latter were far more concerned with conquest and prizes at sea, the Coastlords sent from Merwyn and Vore were learned men of great patience and practicality, compared to the rovers and raiders of the shore.

  When the Count of Falas finally stood against the tyranny of the Viscounts, he raised an army from among his own servants and retainers, and struck at the Sea Lords where they did not expect it. For while the brave mariners of Enultramar were peerless on the waves, they had little experience with fighting a disciplined force on land, and were defeated in one engagement after another until the Count of Falas was acknowledged Master of the Fields, presumably co-equal with the Sea Lord’s Master of the Waves.

  Yet the strength of the Count of Falas was not in his army, though it was greater than the Sea Lords; it was in his governance, which encouraged development and achievement over hereditary rank or position. Thus he could improve the quality of his troops and his servants while the Sea Lords were condemned to follow the same hereditary leaders who lead them into one disastrous coastal battle after another.

  The Early History of Alshar

  Unknown Authorship

  While the wizards warred in Castal, in Alshar cats crept through the night.

  Atopol and Gatina had devoted the resources of their House, to the effort, with their father’s sup
port. The rebels to the rebellion now had a secret headquarters, of sorts, and Lord Hance had expanded the scope of the conspiracy to many other family members of the secretive house. Coordinating the intelligence gathering himself, Hance had a growing account of which of the great houses supported Anguin’s return, and which were opposed.

  But Gatina had not forgotten the Rats. She’d been investigating dozens of leads across the Great Bay and the Coastlands, studying the notes the knights provided from their expeditions, learning as much as she could about their clandestine enterprises, who were the players, and where the centers of power were. As her account grew she passed the information to her father, who was looking for patterns that the conspiracy could exploit. She was not the only one invested in the effort, but she was clearly committed to the mission more than anyone else.

  The basic plan that Gatina proposed was admirable, Rondal knew. It also depended heavily upon magic – for which he was prepared – and upon the avarice of their foes (which was a point of pride for them). From that basic premise, the two of them had developed a basic idea of how to trick the Brotherhood into doing most of the work for them.

  That was not easy. The Brotherhood had become aware of the shadow war the Estasi Order was waging against it, though they had few details yet on their foes. Rellin Pratt, after enjoying a few weeks of active enmity of the Brotherhood, had finally convinced someone important that maybe he hadn’t destroyed the crew of slavers’ headquarters in Galvina, and that there were indeed secret foes fighting against the Brotherhood. After the heist at the Tower Arcane, that became more plausible.

  In fact, the Estasi Order was getting credit for things it wasn’t even doing against the Rats. Gatina reported that ‘those godsdamned warmagi’ were usually blamed when something went wrong now – and a lot of things were going wrong with the Brotherhood, these days. Since the rash of raids and slaughters in the spring the crews were cautious, sometimes to the point of paranoia.

  Since Gatina was harassing them secretly herself, that was probably justified, Rondal decided. His admirer not only gathered information in a variety of disguises, she was using magic and mayhem to obstruct and confuse communications and relations between the far-flung crews. Thanks to her, almost a dozen Rats had killed each other in the ensuing feuds and duels.

  Much of the plan they put together by Sympathy Stone. It was both simple and elaborate, and would satisfy several goals at once. As it required a fair amount of outside assistance, Rondal was forced to call upon one of Master Min’s most adept agents, the footwizard Iyugi.

  Iyugi was odd, even for a footwizard. The vagabond half-breed wandered all over the Western Duchies in search of honest work . . . and to learn the secrets of the world. That, more than any arcane trickery, was Iyugi’s stock-in-trade. As a High Mage he carried a witchstone himself, one of the first granted by Minalan to a mage outside of his profession of warmagic. Yet he was not flamboyant with his craft – quite the contrary. Iyugi’s passion was secrets. When Tyndal contacted him, they found that the footwizard was, indeed, agreeable to taking part in the scheme . . . as was Gareth.

  That was important, too. For Gatina’s plan to work, it had to be convincing. Thankfully Gareth was not only a better mage than he looked, he had a good imagination and a convincing face.

  “Do you really think this is going to work?” asked Tyndal, skeptically, as Rondal broke the Mirror connection with Atopol in the Rat Trap.

  “It had better,” Rondal said, wearily. “We’ve bet an awful lot on it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust Iyugi and Gareth,” Tyndal said, thoughtfully, “but neither one understands what they’re facing, in Enultramar.”

  “They’ll do fine,” Rondal insisted. “Gat has set this up beautifully. Iyugi has traveled the place extensively. And yes, we are risking a lot. But if this works . . .”

  “I know, I know,” Tyndal agreed. “It could save the duchy. Not a bad thing to brag about in taverns,” he decided.

  “Well, we’ve got about a week until we have to go,” Rondal said, getting up from the comfortable chair in front of the Mirror bowl. “If the Cats are right about this, then the Brotherhood will be drooling at the prospect.”

  Rondal hated that Tyndal had doubts, but then the plan was complex and complicated enough so that Rondal had doubts . . . and the plan was largely his.

  Convincing Master Minalan to cooperate was depressingly easy. He was still in a dark mood at his wife’s bedside, and could not care less what happened to the rest of the world. Ruderal was friendlier and even excited at the prospect at striking back at the Brotherhood who had given him and his mother so much trouble.

  And Iyugi was surprisingly eager to play his role . . . with Gareth.

  Rondal stared at the stack of parchment that contained their notes for the heist. So much work, so many details, and all it took was one thing going horribly wrong to put it all in the chamberpot.

  “Let’s just see how this first part goes,” Rondal finally decided. “If it fares poorly, then we can always abort the mission without too much invested. Later on it won’t be so easy.”

  As it turned out, even the first part was not, technically speaking, very easy. But then it was unlikely it ever would have been.

  Two strangers to Enultramar suddenly appeared in the Narrows: a grim-faced half-breed with flamboyant taste in clothing and hats, and a skinny, bird-chested younger Narasi man in burgher’s clothes with shifty, nervous eyes and a penchant for looking over his shoulder.

  While they made their way down the mighty Mandros, the older man made certain discrete inquiries along the way that set the game in motion. The rumors, no matter how discretely harvested, sent a message in the other direction: Iyugi the Footwizard had two plump witchstones for sale.

  In fact, they were the very stones once possessed by Tyndal and Rondal, borrowed for the occasion.

  As Iyugi reported to them, mind-to-mind, he and his erstwhile “partner” were slowly headed south, stopping at every major city along the Mandros and letting it be known that they had irionite . . . and the price would be high.

  I keep expecting one of these idiots to attack me for it, the travel-worn footwizard told them, during that week. They hear ‘witchstone’ and their wits flee them. I’ve been offered as much as a thousand ounce of gold apiece, so far. I’ve let everyone know that I will auction the stones off once I reach the Great Bay. And the prices will be significantly more than a thousand ounces of gold.

  Has anyone asked where they came from?

  Everyone has asked, agreed the half-breed. I told them the truth: we stole them from the Spellmonger, in Sevendor.

  How is Gareth holding up?

  The boy travels . . . poorly, Iyugi said, diplomatically, but with humor. But he is learning. He has ensured that the criminal element gets word of our sale. He plays the role of a nervous, paranoid man perfectly.

  That was the bait: two witchstones, ostensibly stolen from Sevendor in the chaos after the Magewar with Greenflower. With so many in Alshar seeking them, there was no doubt that two good gems for sale, with a proven record, would fetch an extraordinary high price.

  Atopol reported two days later that news had preceded Iuygi and Gareth’s arrivals by two days at the Great Bay: two vagabonds, renegade high mage from Sevendor, took advantage of the Spellmonger’s distraction and made away with two of his precious stones. The interest among the magical community was profound, of course. But the interest amongst the Brotherhood of the Rat was even more so.

  At a village called Trandolar on the east bank of the river the two were ambushed by bandits who’d heard about the trove and wanted to cash in. The wizards fought them off, using their witchstones and the plethora of warwands Gareth brought. That was helpful, despite Gareth’s reaction to the combat. After that, Iyugi hired two bodyguards to keep watch while they slept and protect them when awake. By the time they got to the Great Bay, the news of their arrival and their merchandise would be everywhere.

/>   “The fleet is starting to drift back in,” Atopol reported, at the end of the week. “The first ones were pretty badly damaged when they limped in. Apparently some of the victims fought back. Rard had half of the Castali fleet screening Farise. The first slaves have already started to fetch a good price.”

  “Have you heard anyone seriously interested in the stones?” Tyndal asked, from over his shoulder.

  “Yes, the Three Censors are certainly interested. There was a challenge against the leadership of one of them, and though the man won the duel it has set everyone in the Tower Arcane on edge. And there’s plenty of interest from other quarters.”

  Rondal got the more detailed version from Gareth, the following evening, when he reported in, mind-to-mind.

  I’ve never seen anything like Iyugi, the wizard told him. The entire way downriver he was amazing – I heard him speak six languages and use a dozen different accents or dialects. He’s talked to everyone we met like he was from their home village. And he knew the strangest people . . .

  The Brotherhood? Rondal prompted.

  Oh, right. We saw them the first time in Roen. They met us at an inn there, where Iyugi was meeting an old comrade of his. Six of the bastards – six! They sat right down and asked if we had what they’d heard we did. Iyugi assured them we did, and that we would be selling them to the highest bidder when we got to Vaxel.

  Why Vaxel?

  Iyugi has a friend there we can stay with, he says. He’s pretty cryptic about the whole thing . . . but it’s been instructive. Like when we were attacked outside of Lansel – crappy town, by the way. We put in for the night and were headed to an inn when we got jumped by a couple of brave souls. Iyugi handled it. I didn’t even draw, he boasted. He used that ugly staff of his and they both started crying like babies . . . I mean, they really regressed to childhood. Loss of bodily control and everything.