Concealed: The Taellaneth - Book 1

by Vanessa Nelson

  “Yes?” The warrior’s voice was cool, dark eyes assessing.

  “This visit seems arranged in haste. Is there something wrong?” Erith conversation generally tracked about in circles, so when something was truly urgent, directness tended to get attention.

  The warrior watched her for a long moment, ageless face giving nothing away before giving one, sharp nod.

  “There was an attack on the heartland.”

  “On the heartland?” Arrow repeated stupidly, pulse skipping. “Were there injuries?” It seemed to be the right question, the warrior’s stiffness easing slightly.

  “Several dead. More injured.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” Arrow made an instinctive half-bow, an expression of dismay and regret, sorrow weighting her. The Erith were proud, difficult, and stubborn. They were also living beings, and careful guardians of their lands. “On a particular target, svegraen?”

  “House Falsen,” Kallish nuin Falsen answered, voice cool. White Guard were supposed to give up their House allegiances on completion of their Trials, a rule commonly broken in practice. Adopted into the House rather than of the Family’s blood, the cool tone told Arrow that the warrior felt strongly about the attack.

  “I do hope the Taellan was not injured?”

  “Lady Eimille was at the Taellaneth. The youngest, Vailla, seems to have been the target.” The warrior’s face tightened again, and she relented enough to tell Arrow bare details of the attack. A camouflaged attacker who walked with an odd gait and killed with an invisible weapon. None of the House retainers had been able to withstand the attacker, guarding the Lady Vailla with their bodies before the White Guard arrived. The White Guard had managed to repel the attacker, though from what the warrior said it was not clear how.

  Arrow swallowed her questions and exclamations and her dismay, holding back queries about Vailla’s health that would bring her instant reprimand. Vailla had been a source of kindness and friendship at the Academy, bustled back to the heartlands as soon as her basic magical learning was complete.

  The warrior had told her far more than she had hoped for, none of it good. The same attacker. The Falsen lands were deep behind within Erith territory; there was no border for him to have crossed. Possibly translocation had been used. Yet translocation required the magician to have either an anchor point to travel to, or to have been to that place before and have a clear picture of where he was going. There were no non-Erith in the heartland, according to the Erith. He could be Erith. Or he could simply have walked in, cloaked in whatever spells he used to hide his identity.

  The target was also a mystery. Eimille vel Falsen might be the longest serving member of the Taellan, ruthless when she had to be, yet she had held her position for so long and for different monarchs through her own abilities and respect of those monarchs and her fellow Taellan. House Falsen itself was quiet, the blood Family tending to artistry and studying rather than bloodshed and argument. There were other Taellan who were a more natural target for attack. Several faces crossed Arrow’s mind, Seggerat and Gret among them.

  From what the warrior said, and did not say, she guessed that the Erith thought that the ‘kin were behind the heartland breach. Juinis was here to make that assessment for himself. Nothing she could say would influence him. Juinis and his escort had no prior knowledge of the ‘kin, and certainly not the close company that she had had. With that experience behind her, she doubted the ‘kin had anything to do with the attack. Shifkin preferred to tackle their enemies head-on, face to face. Not hide under disguises and misdirection. Those were Erith tactics. And used by humans. Weaker in magic and physical strength than either Erith or shifkin, humans found ways to compensate.

  Something else was in play. Some design she could not see. More information was needed, which she would not get from the Erith directly.

  She opened her mouth to tell the warriors about the baelthras and magician, interrupted as the Hall door opened a fraction to admit one of the House retainers, the scribe, face flushed with excitement.

  “We are going to Hallveran,” she announced, voice high pitched, “in pursuit of the shifkin female’s trail.”

  “The lord has decreed this?” Kallish did not look excited. Arrow sympathised. So abrupt a change of plans, and to Hallveran of all places, made the warrior’s task far more difficult.

  “Indeed, he has. He wishes to aid the Prime in pursuit of his wife’s murderer. We are to coordinate with the shifkin and travel in convoy.”

  Even as Arrow was wondering who had come up with that plan, which required two normally hostile groups of warriors to work together, the door opened again, and Matthias came out, apparently relaxed, speaking commands into his shoulder. He must have a radio there, she realised, seeing small groups of ‘kin coming to attention as he spoke, and ‘kin moving purposefully in the direction of some of the other buildings.

  “Arrow.” Matthias nodded a greeting, then inclined his head to Kallish. “Will you translate for me, please? Pa wants us to get organised to move as soon as possible.”

  “Of course. May I ask?” she waited for his lifted brow before going on, “why Hallveran?”

  “We returned the ATV and found a car Marianne had rented in Hallveran, about four months ago. Seems the next best lead.”

  “Thank you.” Arrow filed that piece of information along with the other jumbled bits and pieces gathering and made the introduction between Matthias and Kallish.

  Welcoming the distraction from her cold, wet foot and too much speculation in her mind, Arrow was amused, as she provided a rapid-fire translation between Matthias and Kallish, to see that, despite their outward differences, they had a similar gleam in their eye as they planned the convoy, the weaponry they would need, and demurred, politely, over who should go first and who should go last. Amused, too, to see them each recognise a kindred spirit. If there had been more time, Arrow was quite sure they would have begun comparing weapons.

  In short order the Erith had their human-made, heavy-duty weapons ready, mounted on their vehicles’ roofs, and the ‘kin had their vehicles out and ready, with similar roof-mounted weaponry. Over a dozen vehicles, and about thirty warriors, ‘kin and Erith, but Arrow was still uneasy. The road to Hallveran was a lawless stretch, a no man’s land of unclaimed territory between the Erith borders, the ‘kin’s borders, and territory claimed by humans. Outlaws from every race called it home, making their livings by capturing travellers along the road. Kidnap for ransom was common, as was simple theft. The outlaws had, over the years, got very good at making travel on the road difficult and, thanks to ransoms and theft, had the resources to provision themselves with human-made weaponry.

  Any journey to Hallveran was fraught with danger, generally undertaken only in heavily-armed giant convoys protected by highly-paid mercenaries. Or, once, when she had not been able to join a convoy, by one terrified magician, driving as fast as she could in a vehicle so heavily warded she could barely see the road.

  The only thing that generally remained was the road itself because all races depended on it for trade and any damage brought swift, bloody reprisal.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With most of the warriors on the roofs of the vehicles, manning the weaponry, and Lord Juinis’ retainer taking over what translation was required, Arrow was redundant. She also had the luxury of an entire backseat of one of the vehicles to herself for the journey. The vehicle’s driver would not speak with her, concentrating on the road and his place to the rear of the convoy. With the fizz of familiar magic all around, a comfortable seat and nothing to do, no matter the danger outside, she fell asleep to the sound of gunfire as the outlaws began their assault on the convoy.

  The quiet woke her. The guns had fallen silent overhead. As she sat up, blurry with sleep, she felt the familiar hum of Hallveran’s city wards. It was fully dark outside, the desolated city showing only sporadic signs of life on its outskirts. The odd shapes that loomed out of the darkness around the vehicles were ab
andoned buildings, Arrow knew, and looked worse in daylight, some partially destroyed, some little more than concrete footprints where the buildings had stood, and all stripped of useful materials to help rebuild the buildings closer to the city’s heart.

  Alone in the dark she murmured an Erith blessing, a wish for peace and health for the city’s inhabitants. Hallveran had been established by humans, seeking a place not claimed by the Erith or shifkin when they moved to this land, and was now mostly human with a small ‘kin muster. The city was still healing and a long way from whole. A virulent plague, suspected by many to be magical in origin, had claimed more than half the city’s population, with little aid provided by other cities, themselves worried that the plague might spread. With a shortage of clean water, food, and basic supplies the remaining population, perhaps affected by the plague, had taken to the streets in rioting that had lasted months.

  Arrow had lived through most of it, sent to exile in Hallveran when she had been expelled from the Academy. The Preceptor claimed, when they seized her and brought her back, that the Erith had not known the true extent of the situation in Hallveran when they chose it for her exile. For the first time in her life Arrow had not believed him.

  The signs of ruin gradually reduced the further in the convoy travelled until, to a magic-blind person, the vehicles might have been travelling through parts of Lix, the streets smooth and well-maintained, the buildings whole. For anyone with magic, the city was still devastated, the normal currents of underlying power twisted and deformed in unnatural patterns. Arrow closed her second sight firmly after one look, not wanting to see. There had been magic users in the midst of the riots, many of them not caring what damage they did.

  At length the convoy slowed and stopped. Outside the most exclusive hotel in the city, naturally, for the White Guard would not permit their charge to be housed anywhere less. Arrow wondered if they had taken over the entire hotel. And wondered if anyone had factored in the human journalists that spent time lingering outside the hotel, hoping for a story. She spotted at least one long lens camera in the shadows on the other side of the street from the hotel and sighed as she imagined the headlines. Erith lord and Prime travel to Hallveran in secret. The human news had vivid imaginations, and the presence of any Erith in Hallveran was unusual enough that this would keep them busy for months.

  It would not take Eshan that long to blame her, though, she reflected, gathering her pack, and following the White Guard and ‘kin into the hotel, Juinis and Zachary closely surrounded by their own people.

  “That was an adventure,” Lord Juinis was saying, face alight, to Kallish, a few paces ahead of Arrow. Arrow blinked, startled for a moment, before she nearly missed a step, realising that he had probably never been under fire in his life before.

  Protected by the ring of White Guard, the lord had never been in danger. He had probably passed the journey, while she had slept, watching in fascination as outlaws fired at him from shadows, and the warriors around him returned fire. For him it most likely had been a great adventure.

  In Erith lands his status, and his House retainers, protected him. Here it was the task of the White Guard. He had apparently failed to notice, or perhaps did not care, that several of the warriors, and ‘kin, bore the tell-tale traces of bullet strikes. The ‘kin’s body armour and the White Guard’s warded uniforms had provided them with protection against most of the bullets that had made it through the convoy’s wards. Still, there was blood on more than one face, and several hastily applied bandages on arms and legs. No one was seriously injured, making the price of the Taellan’s adventure one he would doubtless think worthwhile. If he noticed.

  Arrow watched, impressed, as Kallish kept her face admirably neutral as she made a non-committal answer to the Taellan.

  Some trick of the light, some unhappy accident, as they entered the hotel’s foyer and he turned to take in his surroundings, put Arrow in the lord’s line of sight and he paused, face pinching in displeasure.

  “You are still here?”

  “My lord.” She made an awkward half-bow, the weight of her pack threatening to unbalance her.

  “I have no use for you.” She was dismissed as easily as an unwanted object. He turned away without waiting for her compliance, taking it for granted.

  “My lord.” She still made a shallow bow, stepping back until she was against the wall, tucked in between a pair of giant plants in knee-high ceramic pots, stalks rising over her head, massive, glossy dark green leaves longer than her arm. Hidden by the plants she was out of his sight. She set her pack down with a slight sigh and cast a quick, protective ward over it.

  Excluded from the group, she watched as ‘kin and Erith exchanged silent glances and nods across the hotel’s foyer, warrior to warrior, the luxurious surroundings an odd counterpoint, the gleaming gold framed mirrors, comfortable chairs and thick carpet underfoot not meant to host so much weaponry. Her throat closed for a moment. The first time that she was aware that ‘kin and Erith had aided each other in combat. It was a far more momentous occasion than the Taellan meeting the Prime at the Hall, and the Taellan seemed entirely oblivious. In the centre of the group Juinis and Zachary exchanged a few words, via the House Halsfeld retainer, and parted on seemingly good terms, heading in different directions out of the foyer, the lord and White Guard ascending the wide staircase, the ‘kin disappearing along a ground-floor corridor.

  ~

  Arrow hesitated, waiting until the foyer was empty of all warriors. She had been dismissed. And yet she had information that could be of use to the warriors, that they would need in defence of the lord. The oath spells prickled at her wrists. She muttered a curse and headed up the stairs, leaving her warded pack. She attempted to straighten her clothing as she went, creases horribly highlighted by the hotel’s excellent, discreet, lighting. Appearances mattered to the Erith.

  A pair of White Guard wearing near-identical scowls, blocked the entry to hotel’s upper floor.

  “Greetings, svegraen.”

  “Go away.”

  “I need to …”

  “Go. Away.”

  She had a momentary sense of dislocation, reminded of her arrival at Farraway Mountain. The White Guard would not be so gentle in their handling of her, though. She took a prudent step back from them, made a small bow.

  “There are things Kallish nuin Falsen should know. May I speak with her?”

  “Tell us.”

  “That is for her to decide.” Arrow held her ground. The White Guard had no power to command her, though they were doing their best to intimidate. They needed to see the Prime in action, she thought, for a real lesson in intimidation.

  “Wait.”

  One of the pair stalked along the corridor, another pair of guard arriving at an invisible signal to take up position a few paces behind the solitary sentry. Arrow bit the inside of her mouth to hide a smile, wondering if she should be flattered that they clearly saw her as a threat when she was usually dismissed by the Erith.

  After a few moments, during which she found that a curl of hair had come loose and was brushing her cheek, the guard returned, face set with displeasure.

  “Third door on the left,” he told her, and waved her through with a curt gesture.

  “My thanks, svegraen.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping that was the only loose strand, and went past him.

  The door was shut but opened immediately at Arrow’s knock to reveal not Kallish but her second, a mid-ranked guard that Arrow had encountered before.

  “Inside.”

  Wondering if she was facing a punishment for her daring, Arrow stepped into the room, forearm pulsing with a phantom ache. A clean break, a mark of the warrior’s skill, the healers told her, the bone had healed without any impairment. The healers had been pleased not to have to spend too long with her. Still, she did not want to repeat the experience.

  To her relief, Kallish nuin Falsen was there, stripped of her coat and finishing tying off a bandage on on
e of her arms, shirt sleeve rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and at least one thin, silvered scar. Whatever it was must have been sharp to get through the coat’s armour. Another scar to add to her coat, for the warriors had a tradition of mending rather than replacing.

  “Well?”

  “In private, if you please, svegraen.” Arrow resisted the impulse to bow, facing the warrior as an equal. The warrior assessed her for a moment then nodded to her second, who scowled but ducked out of the room as requested. Arrow chalked a rune on the door, blocking their conversation from the outside. When she turned back she had Kallish’s full attention, the warrior standing apparently at ease, but with one hand on a weapon hilt.

  “Well?” the warrior repeated.

  “There are things you should know, svegraen. Which may concern the lord’s safety.”

  “Go on.”

  It was not encouraging, but Arrow briefly told the warrior about the evidence of urjusi on the mountain, the baelthras and the magician’s attack. She omitted some details, like the crossbow’s ability to haul her into its world, judging it would seem too fanciful to the warrior. She also kept her own darkest suspicions tightly locked away, the possibility that the Erith’s worst fears were realised. The warrior’s face was grim when she finished, and her hands were clasped behind her back.

  “Your assessment?” the warrior asked. Arrow drew a breath, pulse skipping, eyes widening slightly despite her attempt to remain calm. It was the first time, the very first time, that a warrior had ever asked her for her views, and Kallish had done so as warrior to war mage.

  “There is a very powerful, very dangerous magician skilled in forbidden magic somehow connected to the death of Marianne Stillwater. We are still following the lady’s trail. We are likely to encounter him again.”

  “Erith?”

  “I do not know.”

  That earned her a sharp look and she blew out a breath, frustration mingled with relief that she was being heard, and believed.