Revealed: The Taellaneth - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  Sometime during Vailla’s low-voiced, disjointed speech the Taellan had fallen silent, attention resting with the young Erith.

  “What could this mean?” Kester asked. A sensible question that drew sharp, frowning glances from his fellow Taellan. The younger Halsfeld lord kept his eyes on Arrow, one brow lifting as she remained silent.

  “The Preceptor knows more than he has told about the incursion and the death of Marianne Stillwater,” Arrow said at length, reluctantly, into the heavy silence.

  “This is an outrage!” Gret vo Regresan was flushed and furious. “To accuse the most respected magician of such heresy.”

  “I do not accuse him of anything other than more knowledge than he has yet shared.” Arrow made each word precise, conscious of the interested, listening ‘kin gathered and the dangerous arrogance of the Taellan.

  “We require answers,” the elder stated.

  “Agreed.” Eimille’s normally angular, striking face was pinched, white showing around her lips. She put out an imperious hand, beckoning her niece closer, tucking Vailla to her side. “What do you suggest?” she asked the elder.

  “We must check his study.”

  Arrow’s attention was mostly on Vailla, sure that the lady still had more secrets, and saw the tiny flinch that she tried to hide.

  “Not the study at the Academy,” Arrow said, reading Vailla’s reaction, “the one at his residence.” Vailla paled further under a hard, searching glance from her aunt, perhaps wondering how her youngest charge had found herself alone with the Preceptor in his personal study. They might be bound, but Arrow would wager that ladies of the Falsen House were expected to follow the ancient customs of demure and decorous courtship. Vailla had never been demure.

  “We are not going to get in there.” Gret threw up his hands, unwittingly rescuing Vailla from further questioning. “Evellan had the place locked up tight. Has done for years.”

  “Not us, no.” The elder’s eyes had travelled to Arrow. It was an all-too familiar look.

  “Explain,” Zachary put in, an edge to his tone.

  “The Preceptor’s residence is perhaps the best warded place outside the Erith heartland. It is difficult to access even with permission and in the Preceptor’s absence will be almost impossible.”

  “Almost impossible?” The Prime caught on the distinction.

  “It will take time,” Arrow confirmed.

  “You?” Gret, unsettled, was in no mind to curb his tongue. “A bastard half-blood. You should have been destroyed at birth.”

  “The most powerful mage the Erith have at present,” Zachary contradicted, drawing the attention, and disbelieving stares, from most of the Taellan. Arrow held her breath a moment. When she had dreamed of freedom from her oaths, she had never imagined standing between the Erith and the ‘kin.

  “I am not at the Taellan’s service,” she reminded the elder. The amber sparks in his eyes deepened, face tightening.

  “But you are at mine,” the Prime said, voice silky soft. Only then did Arrow realise that Xeveran had stepped forward and was performing translating duties. She felt her face warm at the quiet rebuke.

  “That is so, Prime.” She made a small bow; an instinctive gesture any Erith would understand as acknowledgement and contrition.

  “Then you will permit my agent access to the Preceptor’s residence to seek answers and give her all aid in the pursuit of the conspiracy that killed my mate,” Zachary told the elder. It was an absolute command, ‘kin power heavy in the air.

  “Unacceptable,” Eimille broke in, colour high, “the Taellan will not permit a non-Erith such ready access to the innermost workings of our most senior magician.”

  “We need answers,” Kester said quietly, “and there are few better placed to get them than Arrow. Recall if you will, my lords and ladies, that she has been close to the heart of our governance for many years.”

  “A grave mistake,” Gret muttered, almost inaudibly, “should have killed it years ago.”

  “What do you suggest, Kester?” the elder asked.

  “Let Arrow, as the agent for the Prime, seek the answers and let us send an observer,” Kester began, cut across by his vestrait brother.

  “You cannot be in earnest.” Juinis was more agitated than Arrow could remember seeing him, far more so than the situation warranted. Not that long ago Arrow had accused him of being reckless, and she wondered if the lord was still smarting. The criticism had been well deserved. But it had come from her.

  “I will go,” Kester replied calmly, seeming to understand Juinis’ unease. The elder Halsfeld lord relaxed a fraction. Concerned about being exposed to taint again, Arrow thought, the lord’s last venture beyond the safety of the Taellaneth not having been entirely successful, with the lord finding himself drawn to the surjusi.

  “It will be far too dangerous,” Eimille protested, drawing a slight smile from Kester, an expression Arrow caught the ghost of on Kallish’s face.

  “He is svegraen,” the elder said, eyes resting on Kester’s face. “And what better combination could we have to seek answers than a war mage and White Guard?”

  That was of course not the end of the matter. Heedless of their quiet audience, the Taellan debated the matter for several more minutes, under cover of which Kallish and Kester exchanged a few quiet words and a series of hand gestures that Arrow could not follow. Zachary watched and listened intently, eyes glinting with warm humour from time to time.

  “Are they always like this?” he asked Arrow at length, voice low.

  She choked back a laugh and nodded once, realising that she had settled unconsciously into a servant’s waiting pose, straight backed, hands behind her back. Standing whilst the Taellan argued was deeply familiar.

  “My lords, my ladies.” The Prime took one small step forward and let his power slip out again. The gathered Erith stilled, more than one of the White Guard twitching a hand towards weapons.

  “Prime.” The elder moved, squaring up to Zachary.

  “It is clear that there are many more answers to be sought. Lady Arrow is appointed as my agent in these matters, to pursue the truth. I will have answers as to why my mate died.” The low sound of ‘kin anger was unsettling the Taellan, the elder holding his ground with effort, unflinching. “The answers appear to be contained within Erith lands. You will provide me with all necessary access and aid to pursue this matter,” Zachary held the elder’s eyes, “by the treaty between our peoples. The matter carries a great deal of risk and interest for your kind, too. If you wish to appoint your own agent, do so. But do so quickly. We are behind the matter already.”

  “Prime.” The elder should have bowed. He remained upright. Arrow’s breath caught in her throat. The Prime might not demonstrate Court manners, but he was bound to be well acquainted with them. She dared not look at the Prime’s face. “You have breached our hospitality with your demands.”

  “A rogue Erith magician has killed my mate,” the Prime replied.

  “There is a protocol to be observed.”

  “The only protocol that matters is the adherence to the treaty.”

  The elder’s face paled. Not in fear at what was perilously close to a declaration of war. But in anger. Arrow forced herself to breathe. The elder had rarely been so thoroughly bested on his own ground, and before witnesses as well.

  “The treaty stands,” the elder managed to say, lips stiff.

  “The treaty stands,” the Prime agreed with a small inclination of his head.

  “You will have your agent. We will have ours.”

  “As I have said.” There was more than a touch of impatience in Zachary’s voice.

  “Kester,” the elder turned his head, “will you accept the task?”

  “Elder, I will.” There was nothing but quiet assurance in the younger lord’s voice. He was standing at parade rest, the hilt of a sword under his dress coat a reminder of his training.

  “If you wish to question any Erith, you will do so in Kester vo
Halsfeld’s presence,” the elder instructed Arrow. She lifted a brow and glanced across at the Prime. Zachary waved a hand, signalling agreement.

  “Very well.”

  “You may have two days’ grace to conduct your enquiries within the Taellaneth.” The slight glint in his eyes might have been satisfaction, but he was perfectly in command of himself again and had always been difficult to read. Arrow nodded. Two days to investigate the Preceptor’s study should be sufficient.

  “I request that Kallish nuin Falsen and her cadre is assigned to me.” Kester diverted the elder’s attention. Arrow suppressed a sigh. The two had made that agreement during the Taellan’s heated debate. She had no idea why the cadre leader seemed determined to follow her, but it seemed she was not going to escape her watchful care just yet.

  “Agreed.” The elder turned back to the Prime and made another bow, fractionally lower than the last. “Will that be all?”

  “Please convey to her majesty and her consort my appreciation of the aid offered by the Taellan in this matter. That will be all for now.” Zachary made a small, perfectly calculated, bow to the Taellan. “Arrow, a word,” he commanded, before turning on his heel and walking towards the doors.

  Following in the Prime’s wake, gathered in the midst of the ‘kin, she could not help but smile as the gathered servants scrambled out of the Prime’s path and made haste to open the doors. The Steward appeared, with a low bow, to escort him to the front entrance.

  The journey to the front door was completed in silence, the ‘kin maintaining their discipline and apparent calm.

  Once outside, Arrow was somehow unsurprised to find that the dark vehicles the ‘kin had used were ready, their ‘kin drivers waiting, seemingly perfectly at ease, amid a watchful ring of White Guard. The White Guard were standing far back from the shifkin, not one single weapon pointed towards the visitors.

  Zachary paused to stare at the statue again for a moment that dragged on in Arrow’s mind. The rest of the ‘kin remained quiet, still in the loose half circle around him. They were a ceremonial escort, a show of strength for the Erith. Zachary, Arrow thought, would have been happy to face the Taellan alone. And would have done nothing different, she was sure.

  “Drew,” Zachary called his son forward.

  “Matt gave you the lease and vehicle keys. We’ve sort of adopted you, too,” Andrew told her, eyes sparkling with suppressed excitement, reaching into his formal suit jacket, and producing a long, thin envelope that Arrow recognised as the sort used by high-priced human lawyers. “You’re officially a friend of the nation.”

  “How did you manage that?” Arrow asked, astonished. “I do not have legal standing.” The card she had been given had been temporary, available to anyone. This was different.

  “It’s not permanent.” Zachary had unbuttoned his suit jacket, rifled his hair, and now tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, matching his son’s grin at Arrow’s astonishment.

  “Have a read through. Any questions call me or the lawyer. Details inside,” Andrew explained, frowning slightly as she just stared at him. “Is that ok?”

  “Yes.” She closed her mouth with a snap, and nodded, heat in her face. Adopted by the ‘kin? “You are very generous, thank you.”

  “We do expect you to work,” Matthias put in. If she had not known him she would have missed the glint of humour in his eyes. As it was she bit her lip to hide a smile. Work, indeed. Work she was familiar with. Adoption was another thing entirely. Belonging somewhere. She was not fooled by the ease with which Andrew Farraway had handed over the envelope. Adopting an individual with no legal status had to have taken effort. Considerable effort. The human law courts hated irregular paperwork with the same fierce passion as the Erith. And this was very irregular. She turned the envelope over in her hands, feeling the weight of it. No one had ever gone to this effort on her behalf before. She was having difficulty believing it was real, trusting only the evidence of her fingers, the heavy texture of the envelope anchoring her to the here and now.

  “The workspace should be big enough for the cadre.” Andrew glanced past her shoulder and she glanced back, unsurprised to find Kester vo Halsfeld and Kallish nuin Falsen coming towards them, the cadre fanned out around them.

  “They do seem very attached to you,” the Prime commented.

  “Yes.” Arrow shook her head, remembering her past day-dreams, when she had been drained and vulnerable from use of magic, wishing for a cadre to guard her, thinking that would be safety and comfort. In reality, she was finding their constant presence more than a little unsettling, not used to so many people around her so constantly.

  “Well, perhaps they will be focused on looking after the lord instead.” Zachary was trying to cheer her up, she realised, and bit her lip against another unexpected smile.

  “Kester vo Halsfeld,” she told him.

  “Ah.” The sound carried layers of meaning she could not guess at, but the ‘kin were providing shelter to an Erith warrior long believed dead. Arrow wondered if Thomas had expressly asked the Prime to keep his existence a secret, even from his closest living relative. It was not her secret to tell, the old warrior more than capable of revealing himself if he wanted. The Prime’s gaze was still on Kester, intent. “Would you introduce us?”

  “Of course, Prime.” She took a step outside the circle of ‘kin and made a slight bow. “My lord, the Prime would make your acquaintance.”

  “I should be honoured,” the lord said at once, coming forward into the half-circle of ‘kin, not hesitating to leave the watchful surround of the cadre.

  Arrow made the presentations and wondered if all the Erith noted that the Prime was far more relaxed, and courteous, to the younger lord than he had been with the elder. And not just because he was Thomas’ relative, she thought. The Prime made an effort at small talk, which both surprised and pleased the Erith lord, whilst the ‘kin double-checked their vehicles and made themselves ready to depart.

  With a nod to Arrow, Zachary left her among the Erith. It was a powerful statement that he trusted her to complete her tasks. The realisation that she had the trust and respect of so powerful a being held her motionless for a long moment, watching the shifkin vehicles depart, the tangible evidence of the trust they had placed in her still resting in her hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  At length she became aware of the silent, waiting White Guard and the Taellan beside her.

  “My lord,” she began. He waved a hand, silencing her.

  “I will join you at the Preceptor’s residence shortly,” he told her, and looked past her. “Kallish, see to the mage’s safety, will you?”

  “My lord.” The warrior bowed slightly, accepting the command, leaving Arrow to stare, mouth half-open, at Kester’s departing back.

  “The Preceptor’s residence,” Kallish prompted. Arrow snapped her mouth shut, realised she was still holding the shifkin’s envelope, and tucked that into a pocket, sealing it with a quick spell, before starting forward towards the Preceptor’s house.

  Halfway there, Orlis appeared, bouncing on his toes as he fell into step beside her.

  “So, what happened? The Prime was here? The shifkin came here?”

  “Young thing,” Kallish’s stern voice caught Orlis’ attention, “you were left aside for a reason.”

  “But how can I help if I do not know what we are doing?”

  “Do you have a key to the Preceptor’s residence?” Arrow asked as the building came into view.

  “A key? Of course not. Lord Evellan did not give anyone a key. Not even the Lady Vailla, from what I can gather.”

  Arrow paused, glancing across at the journeyman, wondering where Orlis had got that information from and what else he might have learned in the short time they had left him.

  “Do you know where the Preceptor has gone?”

  “No. No one knows. Some of the students said he took off on an Erith horse.” Orlis was still bouncing on his toes.

  “Indee
d?” Ah. Students. Arrow hoped that Orlis knew that student gossip was not the most reliable.

  “Yes. Apparently, there was a horse outside his residence the other night, just before he vanished, and someone saw somebody that looked like the Preceptor getting onto the horse. The next day no one could find him.”

  The story did not match the one they had been given earlier, about the portal. Still, stories did change in the telling, and Erith horses would go through portals without too much fuss. There was just one detail that did not sit well about that version.

  “The Preceptor does not like horses,” Kallish said thoughtfully, picking up the point that troubled Arrow.

  “No,” Arrow agreed. “Orlis, will you take Kallish and find these students, get all the information you can from them?” Red hair flew as he nodded, eyes wide. “The Preceptor would have had to borrow the horse at short notice,” she commented to Kallish, seeing the warrior’s eyes widen in comprehension.

  “And no one would let their horse simply go,” the warrior continued the thought, putting a hand on Orlis’ shoulder. “Come, young mage, we have much to do.” At her hand gesture, Kallish’s third went with her.

  Satisfied that between them they would gather as much information as possible, and also that she would have some peace to work in, Arrow kept walking until she came to the first layer of wards around the Preceptor’s residence.

  “Stay outside the wards please, svegraen,” she requested of Xeveran. He frowned at her, but nodded acceptance, keeping his third and the final third of the cadre at a prudent distance.

  The wards, which had been set aside the last time she had been here, to allow the ladies to roam, shivered as she approached, recognising a magic user. She opened her second sight and nearly staggered back. It had been many years since she had examined the wards over this residence, and they seemed to have multiplied since then. It was something that all students did, often because they were told not to do so by the teaching staff. For anyone learning to use their second sight the Preceptor’s residence was overwhelming, and more than one student paid for their curiosity by spending time in a quiet room recovering from being magic blind.