The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

  So I was immeasurably glad when the door opened to admit the smiling faces of Arin and Drin, dressed in their ceremonial uniforms and, to my relief, with a dagger each beneath their starched sleeves. As the most important guests, they arrived last, naturally, waving aside the two attractive young women assigned to greet them, in order to plough through the crowd straight to my side.

  “Aunt Fen!” bellowed Drin, before they were halfway across the room. “This is such fun! How are you?”

  Perhaps it was my imagination, but the atmosphere in the room lightened after that. Everyone liked my two nephews. Even Nord seemed drawn to the two men, his eyes following them constantly. I felt more secure knowing they were there and indubitably on my side. Whatever Ish’s wife or Kestimar might do to me, any attempt to mistreat me while Arin or Drin was around would end badly.

  Even so, I was glad when it was time to file through in our pairs to the moon feast room. No harm could come to any of us with sixty Holding guests in the room, and innumerable servants. At last I could relax and enjoy the delights of the table.

  “May I, Mistress?”

  Commander Kestimar, the last person I wanted to spend my evening beside, pointed to the chair next to mine. His oily smile was as false as his veneer of politeness. The man was a savage through and through. He didn’t wait for my answer, sliding into the chair like the snake he was.

  I turned to look fully at him, eyebrows raised. “Given the circumstances of our last meeting, Commander, no, you may not.”

  He flushed, and for a moment I thought he was going to argue. But then he rose, and gave an almost imperceptible inclination of the head. “As you wish. I always obey the commands of ladies.”

  There was a faint hint of blue around his head and then he disappeared to find a seat with a less prickly neighbour. The blue was interesting – first Ish’s wife, now Kestimar. Was this the sign of lying that Mal had told me about? I thought of my glass ball, recalling uneasily the times when it, too, had flared blue. Was that the same thing? And did the blue in Ish’s ball mean that he had lied to me? What had he said just before it happened?

  There was no time to think about it, for to my delight, Drin appeared to claim the chair, with a fair-haired beauty on his arm, and I smiled with genuine pleasure. With Ish on one side of me, and Drin on the other, I would be well looked after.

  Once the meal began and the guests were occupied with eating and drinking, I had time for my own thoughts again, and inevitably I became absorbed in what I could detect with my newly enhanced powers. Without distractions, my awareness of Ish’s glass ball strengthened, and the strange voices were louder. I was mesmerised by the new world I was immersed in, and I could barely string two words together.

  Once, when I was quite small, and newly taught to swim, a couple of my uncles had taken me by boat to a small island not far from Shannamar. It was a family tradition, it seemed, to introduce each member of the family to a part of our history. On the far side of the island a ship had sunk, one of the first that helped make our fortune, when we were still the merchant family Delmoor and every ship, every cargo was vital.

  It had gone down in a storm, as ships did every year, just another dispassionate record on the shipping rolls, of sailors lost and barrels of oil, bales of wool and boxes of tools. And a number of coins, the total cost of the loss. To us as a family it was much more, almost the end of us, because we had only three ships and to lose one of those was a disaster. But we survived, and flourished and, in time, became the Holders and lost the family name altogether.

  So each generation was taken back to that ship, the Delmoor 2, that still lay on the seabed, quietly rotting, but not to wallow in the past. Rather it was a story of hope, for in and around that wreckage a thousand small plants and animals had settled in and made it a home. Corals, anemones, and waving forests of kelp abounded, eels glided through the partially collapsed hull, starfish and rays sat on the sandy floor inside, and crabs and lobsters scuttled through crevices. It was a testament to good growing from bad.

  I was too young then to appreciate the philosophical aspects. Instead, with each dive, I gazed in awe at the myriad creatures around me, their extraordinary shapes and behaviours, the strange colours and oddly positioned eyes and suckers and protuberances whose function I couldn’t even guess at. It was so different from the mundane world of the land, as if I’d flown to the moon.

  That was how I felt that evening, aware of an entire level of consciousness I hadn’t even suspected existed. Around me, the blue halos puffed into existence and were gone. Behind me, Mal’s belt was a reassuring presence, Kestimar’s two daggers less so. And the voices in my head – when I closed my eyes and concentrated, all the noise of the room faded away and I could hear the voices clearly.

  One was a child’s high tones, chattering away without pause. There was another voice, too, an adult, quieter, more measured, only speaking occasionally. After a while, a third voice, almost inaudible. I allowed my mind to wander, circling round the Hold, now nearer the voices, now drifting away again. A sudden realisation – it was close to Ish’s ball, somewhere in the same area, perhaps in the same tower.

  I could see.

  The darkness vanished as suddenly as a lamp being lit. My eyes were still closed, but my mind could see the child. Not clearly, my view was a little hazy as if through a window, but I knew her at once. It was Ish’s child, the little girl with white-blonde hair. She was kneeling on a rug, playing with toys – animals made of stuffed felt, similar to the ones I’d seen before, although in different colours. A woman knelt beside her, and another moved about the room, tidying. They were trying to persuade the child to go to bed, but she was engrossed in her game.

  I knew the room, too. It was the one with the cabinet containing my gold dragon. And Ish’s glass ball. With piercing certainty, I knew that I was viewing the scene from within the cabinet, through the glass doors. I was inside the glass ball.

  Something gripped my wrist. I gasped and my eyes shot open.

  “Fen! Speak to me! Are you all right?” Ish’s voice was urgent with concern.

  For an instant I was too stunned to grasp where I was. One moment I was in Ish’s family tower, watching his daughter, the next I was… somewhere else, noise hammering in my skull, plates clattering, voices thundering. Even the chink of a dropped spoon rattled my head.

  I took a deep breath, looked around, tried to work out where I was. The moon feast, that was it. Ish beside me, his face creased with worry. The fat merchant’s wife opposite gazing at me with curiosity.

  “I… I am fine.”

  “Are you sure? Shall I send for a physician?”

  “There is no need. I was just… dreaming, I think.” That was as near as I could come to explaining it. Anything more accurate would sound too crazy.

  After that, I tried to concentrate on what was going on around me, and enjoy the rest of the meal. Ish devoted all his energies to entertaining me, ignoring his other neighbour, and Drin was at his most flippant and amusing, his tongue loosened by the wine. I had no more strange experiences, although I was relieved when the meal was over and we could move through to the receiving chamber.

  I was still on Ish’s arm, but his wife appeared and detached me. “Come, let us go and rest a little,” she said with an enticing smile, and meekly I followed, trying to forget that at our last meeting she had cracked open my skull. We took our turn to relieve ourselves, and then I sat beside her while she checked her hair and put a little powder on her cheeks. She was not one of those who used a great deal of paint and powder, but then her skin was unblemished and she hardly needed it.

  I had never much cared about my indifferent looks, but sitting next to this lovely creature made me abnormally jealous. Where I was as thin and straight as a stick, she was all generous curves. Where I was pale as a sun-starved weed, she was dark of skin and hair, and glowing with health. I couldn’t tell her age at all.

  “There, I am done. And now I have a small favo
ur to ask of you, if you would be so good. My daughter met you once, and she has asked if she might meet you again. Your connection to her father makes you of interest to her, naturally. She is in a room nearby. Would you oblige me by seeing her?”

  I didn’t need the many harsh blue flares around her head to know that she was lying. I had already seen her daughter playing contentedly in her own tower some distance away, and even if I hadn’t, it was past midnight, when any small child would be in bed.

  “You honour me greatly, but your daughter must be asleep by now. I would not impose upon her rest. Perhaps some other time, Very Honourable ab Dristomar.”

  Anger flickered across her face, gone so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. “She is not far away…” A vivid blue flash.

  “Another time. Shall we rejoin the others?”

  She hesitated, but then with a curt nod she turned and swept away.

  As soon as I re-entered the receiving chamber, Losh sidled over to me. “The wife,” he hissed in my ear. “The pendant she wears – is it metal?”

  “No, only the chain,” I whispered back. “The pendant is something else – wood or stone, carved into the shape of a horse.”

  He stood rigid for a moment, his mouth round with surprise. “Can you get me a look at it?”

  “I do not think…” But instantly I knew how. The pendant was not metal, but the chain was. “Let us move a little nearer.”

  We drifted unobtrusively towards the centre of the room, where she was holding court to Kael, Drin and a couple of others. We stopped where we had a good view, and I began to work. The chain was gold, which is an awkward metal to command, because it is almost too eager to reshape itself. It is liable to tie itself in knots. So instead of trying to change the shape of the links, I simply pulled downwards on the part of the chain that hung at the back of her neck, thereby lifting the front part and drawing the pendant out of its hiding place. She was talking volubly and moving her hands and body animatedly, so I had hopes of withdrawing the pendant without attracting attention.

  And there it was, a little ivory horse, no bigger than Mal’s thumb, peeping out from between her breasts. One of the men pointed to it in surprise, but it was Kael, of all people, who spoke first.

  “Hey! That is Hestaria’s vessel! How did you get that?”

  She looked down in horror, and grabbed at it, but it was too late.

  Losh stepped forward. “I do believe Lord Mage Kael is correct. How fortunate that you should have found it, Lady. Hestaria will be so happy to have it back. She never knew quite where she lost it – such a scatterbrain, to lose something so important. Thank you so much for finding it.”

  And he held out his hand. The silence around the group was absolute, and people around the room were turning to stare.

  She had gone quite pink in the cheeks, but she said nothing, forcing a smile. Then she lifted the chain over her head, holding the pendant, chain and all, in her hand for a moment, eyeing Losh speculatively. With a decisive flourish, she reached for Kael’s hand and dropped the pendant into it.

  Kael beamed, and Losh thanked her graciously. At least we had the vessel.

  It was such a small thing, but it felt like a victory.

  30: Swords

  Arin and Drin left early to get back to their ship, but the rest of us lingered, savouring our small triumph. We were in celebratory mood, Kael chattering unstoppably and the other mages amiably responding, as we made our way through the endless galleries to the western gate. In such good spirits, it was hard to remember that somewhere along here, Gret had toppled over the balustrade into the garden below. It seemed such a safe place, and since it was brightmoon, the gardens and open corridors and windowed ante-chambers were filled with light. Two servants went ahead to lead the way, but the route was familiar to us now, and we paid no heed to them.

  Mal brought up the rear, and I knew him well enough to realise that he was watching our backs, so that no one could sneak up on us. He was a natural pessimist, but that was a good quality for a guard to have and I was glad he was there.

  I was still mentally in the otherworld that surrounded me, aware of every nail, every hinge, every brass dish holding an ornamental plant. Ish’s glass ball was still a presence, too, but the voices had gone – I presumed the child was asleep, and the room empty. Nearer to me was the reassurance of Mal’s belt, the mages’ jade stones and Hestaria’s vessel, still in Kael’s hand.

  There were many Defenders about the Hold, so at first I took no notice of the mass of swords gathered together. In any case, they were below us and some distance ahead. Then they separated into two groups, one coming up the stairs ahead of us, the others passing beneath us.

  I stopped, trying to work out where they were going. Mal almost bumped into me.

  “What is it?”

  “Swords. Coming up the next stairs.”

  “Sheathed or drawn?”

  “Sheathed.”

  “How many?”

  A moment’s concentration. “Ten – no, eleven. Another ten behind us, on the stairs we just passed.”

  Mal looked around, but there was blank wall on one side of us lined with painted mirrors, and the balustrade above the gardens on the other. We were trapped.

  Losh turned to us, calm as always. “Fen, can you do anything with so many swords?”

  “I am not sure. I have never tried.”

  “Here they come. Let me do the talking.”

  It was Kestimar, of course, smirking arrogantly at us, with ten men at his back and another ten looming up behind us. All of them were armed and mailed, while we had only our evening finery to protect us. And our magic.

  We stood in a line facing Kestimar, Losh a little in front. “Good evening, Commander. May we assist you?”

  He laughed at that. “Such politeness, old man! No, you may not assist me.”

  “Such rudeness to guests,” Losh said mildly. “If you wish nothing of us, would you be so good as to let us pass?”

  Kestimar grinned, but made no move. His men made a solid line across the passage. Nevertheless, Losh stepped forward, as if to walk through them. One hand was in his pocket. I knew it was resting on the jade stone hidden there, but it made him look almost insolently relaxed.

  Kestimar’s face darkened to a threatening glower. “Stay!”

  “I think not.”

  Again Losh took a step forward. Kestimar drew his sword, scraping it from his scabbard with a sound that echoed ominously around us. Losh stopped again, the sword an arm’s length from his throat.

  No one moved, no one spoke. The only sound was the occasional creak of armoured leather, then, bizarrely, a horse whinnying somewhere in the distance. Kael whimpered, and Temerren put a warning hand on his arm.

  I should have been terrified, but my new vision and the magic humming around me left me no room for fear. Besides, Kestimar’s sword called to me. A sword is a wondrous proof of the smith’s art, and the metal in it almost sings with power and a willingness to be commanded. It doesn’t want to be melted – a sword has a horror of being unmade – but it is infinitely malleable. I had bent swords before, but it took concentration and time. Still, it was worth trying. I reached to it with my mind, and the instant I had the thought the blade twisted itself into a knot.

  Kestimar shrieked and dropped the sword. It clanged violently on the ground before settling at his feet. His face was so suffused with rage that I thought he would explode. Almost my action reduced him to speechlessness, but he managed two words.

  “Kill them!”

  As one, all twenty of them reached for their swords, but as fast as they drew, so I twisted them into knots, remembering this time to turn the points inward. It was lucky none of them were bowmen, because I’d have had no power at all over an arrow or a crossbolt, and we’d all have been dead.

  I could only see Kael out of the corner of my eye, but he was worryingly agitated, rocking slightly and whimpering almost constantly. Temerren had firm hold of him, but
he was going to do something, I knew it, unless we got him out of there.

  With a stupendous lack of logic, Kestimar pulled the thin dagger from his sleeve. By the time he lunged for Losh, I had bent the blade back on itself. Losh calmly raised one hand, fingers elegantly gesturing towards Kestimar.

  “Sleep!”

  And Kestimar dropped like a stone at his feet.

  The tension was too much for Kael. With a shriek that even a dragon would be proud of, he lifted one hand and every mirror along the wall shattered into tiny shards.

  The swordsmen turned and ran with screams of terror, boots pounding on the marble floor, clattering down the stairs and into the distance. We stepped carefully over the sleeping Kestimar, avoided the twisted remains of swords and crunched over broken glass, before continuing on our way. From an alcove a little further on, the terrified eyes of the two servants peeped out at us from behind a plant taller even than Mal.

  “Good evening to you,” Losh said genially as we passed them by. “I think we can find our own way from here.”

  In that moment, I was proud to walk alongside him. And ashamed of my own people, it must be said.

  Our carriage was nowhere to be found when we got down to the courtyard – sent away by Kestimar, presumably – so we walked out of the gates, Losh sleep-spelling anyone who had the temerity to question us. We left a trail of guards littering the ground.

  There was a great flap when we finally got back to the house, Losh waking every servant and stable hand and kitchen girl, and telling them all that we were in great danger. I sent one of the boys with a coded message to Arin at the Shannamar flag ship, asking for help to protect the house. Until they arrived, the guards and house servants organised a watch through the night, although what we’d have done if Kestimar had turned up with a couple of hundred Defenders to root us out, I can’t guess. We could hardly spell so many to sleep. There are limits to the mages’ powers, and Losh was already drained.