by D. H. Aire
Meltran’s elvin ears perked at the sound, his pale completion going instantly scarlet with embarrassment. He had failed— failed badly. Master Ofran, Head of the Healer’s Hall, was too important a witness to try even to “borrow” Donnialt for a few hours. He glanced at the other much younger elfblood healer examining the driver’s arm, then sent one of his men to bring the City Guard. The man was wise enough not to hesitate.
The other healer glanced over his shoulder; Meltran had not recognized him. All to the good, Balfour told himself, pretending to chant a healer spell as he repaired the driver’s fractured arm.
The man looked at him in awe, bending his arms which felt whole and hale once more. “Thank you, milord.”
Balfour nodded, “My thanks to you, good sir.”
The man smiled sardonically, “All in the line of duty.” Line of duty in Master Ofran’s service, more like, thought Balfour.
They hit a bump heading upTier. Terus banged his arm against Aaprin’s knee, but the older elfblooded hardly noticed— too lost in thought. Donnialt would have thought of a means to deal with scrying eyes. He had to have or this whole thing was futile. He just had to have— or nothing made any bearable kind of sense.
We’ll be fine. This is not some kind of trap, he told himself sweating profusely, knowing the three of them would certainly be in no condition to face their new master as they were now. That is, if there really is a new master at the end of this line...
The cart backed slowly out of the street into the Weaver’s Guild House. Guilders barred the gates after the cart, then quickly hurried to release the concealed box’s occupants.
Revit was the first to wobble to his feet and be helped down. An elfblooded Guild master, his temples sprinkled with the gray of middle age, appeared as Aaprin rubbed his legs, which tingled with sleep.
“Be at ease,” said Master Hyram. “You have arrived safely. But to assure your continued safety, you must come quickly before the Master. This way, hurry now that we may permanently conceal your trail.”
Even Terus perked up at hearing the Guilder say that as they were ushered into the depths of the Guild past heaps of folded clothes, glistening with bright patterns. Looms were being worked almost effortlessly as spell enhanced a single master or senior apprentice bent of the colored spools and sought through their skills to lay out the most precise of patterns in wool, silk, and fabrics made from local fibers.
Finally, the three lads were led to a draped enclosure. “Upon entering, you must remove your clothing and place it into the receptacle in the center of the chamber.”
“You are not coming with us?” Aaprin asked, warily.
“All will be explained within by the Master.”
Revit and Terus hesitated until Aaprin cautiously passed within the tent-like enclosure. They looked at each other worriedly upon entering, then looked about them. The interior was draped in white cloth— most carefully warded, they could sense. There was a perfect stillness about the room. No sound of loom or other work outside could be heard. They new Great Magery when they felt it. Revit took a step back toward the entry— when he suddenly realized that it was gone. They were completely surrounded by the white cloth walls, which arched over their heads in a dome.
Aaprin glanced at Terus as he placed a gentle hand on his wide-eyed companion’s shoulder. The senior apprentice then began to disrobe and obey their instructions. Following Aaprin’s example, Revit and Terus slowly followed suit. They took their clothes and uneasily placed them in the mentioned receptacle. After Aaprin closed it, there was a “whumping” sound from within. Aaprin immediately reopened it. Only ash remained of what had been their clothes.
“That’s just wonderful, Aaprin!” Revit exclaimed in exasperation.
“Uh, Revit, Aaprin…” Terus muttered looking past them at the silver-haired rotund elfblood, as naked as they, who had appeared from nowhere behind them.
He bore a supple wooden walking staff. “Welcome. Be not afraid.” The elfblood took a white robe from the wall, which had not been there a moment before, and gestured for them to do the same. “Anyone trying to scry our presence can do so through the very fibers of the cloth you wore. By their destruction, any possible pursuit is foiled. It is a precaution you should consider wisely in the future.”
Once garbed in the soft, but plain, fabric, Aaprin asked, “Pardon me, Master, but, uh, who are you?”
Grinning, the aged elfblood replied, “My name is Abernathy.”
The three lads gasped and stared, astonished. Abernathy was a name mentioned with horror in the Academy. This man claimed to be the leader of the heretic Faeryn mages. It was said that Faeryn mages did not properly cast spells. Abernathy, Archmage of Faeryn was the leader of all the rebel mages in the Empire. The Faeryn stood for everything the Academy stood against. They worked spells and charms used for selfish purposes. They used much of their magery for mundane purposes— simply to ease Man’s Burden.
Aaprin gaped as he realized that what he had seen outside, the effortless looms. This very room was wrought through Faeryn connivance.
Revit looked at Terus, his gaze clearly saying to his friend: we’re in for it now.
Terus hesitantly rasped, “Uh, you’re not our new Master are you?”
At that Faeryn Archmage laughed, long and hard, “Oh, dear me, no.”
Mage Guild
2
Balfour tiredly climbed the stairs on his way to bed. It was not bad enough that he had ridden in a coach that mysteriously lost a wheel and he had to spend several hours at the Healer’s Hall afterward being watched by Meltran’s goons. No, Je’orj just had to send for him. What a nightmare that had been.
This was not what he had had in mind for yesterday, his first day free in weeks. Me’oh would be rife for needling him mercilessly about having forgotten their plans... Yet, he thought wistfully, the look on those dwarvin faces, when he told them he did not need to effect spells to do his work had been priceless.
Je’orj was dressed and coming out of his room, struggling out of Se’and’s grip on his neck clasp. “You can’t go out with your cloak skewed like this,” she insisted.
“If the wyvern whose hide this cloak once was can’t care about it, neither will I.”
Behind them padded out a naked little girl, George sighed, “Oh, don’t tell me you want breakfast now, too?”
His foster-daughter nodded, grinned, and put out her arms to him. He picked her up. “I do wish you would consider wearing those clothes I bought you, Raven.”
She smiled and snuggled his shoulder, “Won’t need ‘em today.”
“I still don’t like this,” Se’and added as Balfour wearily reached the landing.
“Have I missed something?”
“Good morning, Milord,” greeted Se’and. “I hope the children are all right?”
George paused, awaiting his answer as Raven turned her head to watch him as well. It was a bit disconcerting to see that too adult expression on the face of a child.
“The urchins are in pretty good shape. The other kids, well, I raised their metabolisms just a bit. That’ll help burn the drugs still in their systems. I think it’s the dwarves that will make the real difference.”
“I got the impression that Geofrei’s wife had things well in hand,” Se’and commented.
Smiling carefully to judge Je’orj’s reaction, Balfour replied, “I did get that impression, yes... I told them I’d be back tomorrow. They plan to begin moving them just after my visit.”
George nodded, “For a people who think only in the long term, they seem quick enough.”
The elfblood grinned, “People around you seem to do that, Je’orj. I take it you’re ready to face the Guild today?”
With a sigh, the other man replied, “I’ve established residency. Now I get to submit myself to the Guild for membership. Oh, joy.”
“And if he’s really lucky, he’ll come back with several nice apprentices,” Se’and quipped.
George gla
red at her for the briefest instant. As he marched toward the stairs bearing his foster-daughter in his arms, he muttered to himself, “I can’t fulfill Alrex’s stipulations fast enough.”
Upstairs, the computer staff began to glow, :I am certain that will please the elf no end... But do consider your wives’ feelings.:
‘Stop calling them my wives!’ he shouted enrapport.
:I doubt your children-to-be would appreciate that, George. After all, they do seem to plan to have such large families where they come from.:
The man sighed and muttered, “I refuse to be your sociology experiment today.”
Staff sparkled a moment and replied, :Well, be that way.:
Raven seemed to shake ever so faintly. He hesitated before entering the kitchen, realizing the little vixen was laughing at him; her ability to “listen in” had its drawbacks. “Et tu, Brutus?”
“Stenh, you’re being ridiculous,” Grendel claimed in an irritating wheedling voice.
“The lads have been apprenticed. There is nothing more to say on the matter.”
Frowning, Grendel gestured to his companion, “Meltran, you try explaining it to him. I’m beginning to think him mad.”
“Master Stenh, the three are completely unfit for any Master of the Hall. Aaprin’s final test should have proved that, even to you. That lad’s gift has manifested most unsuitably.”
Stenh grimaced, “Donnialt has assigned the placement at my order— nothing more need be said.”
Grendel frustrated, considered taking another tack; however, at that moment two fair elvin mages, dressed in the most regal of courtly robes come over to them.
Senason, and his elvin shadow, Sianhiel effusively greeted Stenh, while studiously ignoring the other two mages.
Grendel was livid, which was, without doubt, Grendel’s chief rival Senason’s intent. “So good to see you, Master Stenh. It is so rare of late for you to attend matters of the Guild... So, what do you think of yesterday’s happening?”
Stenh blinked, then frowned, “Uh, Senason, dear cousin, I think you’ve lost me there.” The pure blood elf glanced at his companion, then elucidated. “Elvenhome and most of the mages here today found the disturbance of the Great Wards of particular concern. Most of the Seventh Tier was ‘blanked’ to all scrying,” he added, noting Stenh’s expression of feigned puzzlement. “Do not tell me that you noticed it not?”
Grendel frowned, “Stenh, even for you— such a thing would have been difficult to ignore.”
Senason glared briefly at Grendel for his comment, yet the elfblooded mage merely grinned, tit for tat, as it were.
Sianhiel leaned forward, “Every House in Elvenhome struggled to penetrate the fey clouds and mist that descended upon the Tier. We feared the Dark One’s mischief.”
“Ah,” Stenh murmured, “I would not fear such mischief, gentlemen. The Highmage watches such events...” The mages stared, those within earshot even forgot what bland phrases they were about to speak to others of their Orders.
The Highmage, they seemed to think as one. Stenh smiled wryly, “Oh, you must excuse me, Donnialt, my good fellow!”
So saying, the Head of the Academy hurried off toward his just arrived Master of Apprentices.
Senason stared after Stenh a moment before wandering off with Sianhiel to a cluster of Elvin mages, surrounding the Archmage, Regis.
Meltran faintly rasped, “Blooming Elvin twits! What game is Stenh up to now?”
Nodding to himself, Grendel had the oddest impression that Stenh not only knew what had happened in the Seventh, but much that no one else had been able to decipher of late, including the true state of the Highmage’s health and his power over matters in the Aqwaine Empire.
Alrex was said to be near death, but what if that was not altogether true? Currently, only he and Senason were considered Candidates for the Highmage’s Seat, which was one reason these blasted Guild Conclaves were becoming so frequent. Alrex could die at any moment and the Convocation could follow in less than a week’s time.
No mage or proxy would willingly be far from the Capital at such a time. Though, there were two candidates at the moment there could easily spring five more tomorrow. “Come,” Grendel muttered to Meltran seeing Kolter of Hayden enter with Andreinne of Tane.
Kolter paused to frown at the turn of conversation around him. “What is this grumbling about the Highmage, Grendel?” the old balding and wrinkled elfblood grated.
Grendel swallowed, inclining his head slightly in respect. “Master...”
Me’oh shook her head, her arms folded above her swelling and pregnant middle. “So, you’re home.”
Balfour paused in the doorway, “Ah, hi... Did you sleep well last night?”
“Don’t give me that— you, you— Elfblooded miscreant!”
With a sigh, he entered, “Uh, I take that to mean that Cle’or explained about last night.”
“Cle’or, Lord Je’orj, Se’and, even Raven... You could have sent for me. I could have helped with the wounded. Those children the dwarves are hiding sound to me to be in awful shape.”
“You need your rest, Me’oh,” he rallied, putting his arms around her.
This was not Me’oh’s first child, her two daughters were fourteen and ten back in Catha. She missed them terribly— might never see them again. This child with her new elfblooded lord meant everything to them both. But her duties as wife included safeguarding her lord husband’s life. Her skill in herbal healing complimented their relationship. Cathartans were utterly protective of the few men in their society— where one man might expect to sire a single male heir in a lifetime, though; his wives would bear his House upward of a thousand daughters.
“Forgive me?” he asked, nuzzling her hair.
Me’oh sighed, “Men, no matter the species, are such weak creatures.” She kissed him, “You look exhausted. When are you expected at the Hall?”
“I sent Clawd to Uncle Ofran’s. I go to the Hall in another few hours.”
She ushered him over to the bed, pulled back the covers and gestured. “Sleep… At least in our own House I can offer that much of my expertise.”
Tiredly, he sat down and began pulling off his boots. “I’ve got to have Staff teach me techniques in making my muscles not ache so.”
Chuckling, Me’oh responded. “Even I can teach you the answer to that— stop working twenty-five hours a day!”
He pulled off his shirt, while keeping his pants on and tugged at the covers. “Je’orj is going to the Mage Guild today,” he whispered amusedly. “Perhaps, you’ll find taking care of his young apprentices entertaining enough to keep you safely at home.”
She hit him with a pillow, “Elvin beast!”
He curled up and laughed.
Fri’il looked out the upper window as Je’orj, staff in hand, boarded the coach with Raven, in beast form, bounding aboard after him. Moments later, the coach drove off.
Me’oh quietly came out of her room and saw Fri’il standing there. “I really hate this,” she muttered.
Sympathetically, Me’oh went over and rested a hand upon the younger woman’s shoulder, “I know, but this is something he must do alone... In any case, you would never pass the Guild’s Enchantment.”
“How will he, then?”
She shrugged, “He’s a human mage, even if he calls himself ‘merely an arch-eo-logist.’ He will find a way— just as he always does.”
Se’and watched the coach leave with a sense of foreboding. This was the beginning. Once accepted into the Mage Guild, he would be well on his way to, at last, having his opportunity to return to his own world, that which, if he could be believed, was Humanity’s birthworld. She found herself walking forward, when a restraining hand pulled her back. She stared, blankly, into Cle’or’s face, “To keep him, you must let him do what he must.”
“That’s plain stupid,” Se’and replied angrily. “Sister, I watch Balfour go off every day to the Healer’s Hall. Me’oh cannot accompany him any longer— it
is not particularly wise to so expose her unborn as she and Balfour both tell me... But Balfour is in his element. He is a practicing healer, doing his duty.”
“He’s also accepted the fact that you two are his wives!”
“Se’and,” Cle’or shook her head and laughed, “we Cathartans can be so single-minded, it is beginning to frighten even me. You have been raised since Vyss’ birth to command a House. I, on the other hand, have been raised to be a Champion of a House. Are we so different, Sestor?” sister of the same father.
Se’and turned and hugged her half-sister. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and the others!”
“Bah!” Cle’or rasped. “Some would call that being civilized. Cathartan Houses are ruled by imperatives for survival few outside our land may ever understand.”
“How can I love such a man?” Se’and whispered forlorn, yet not alone, never alone while she had the support of her Sisters.
Cle’or laughed long and hard, “Sire Ryff has always been a man of terrible foresight!”
The boys were awoken that morning and carefully hustled from the environs of a Guilder Hall and down the street to an imposing structure Aaprin immediately recognized, though, Revit and Terus, apparently, did not.
Master Abernathy grinned, “Today should be a rather interesting Guild Session. As students of the Academy, and my personal guests, you have certain privileges. Work no magery— the results could prove rather awkward to us all.”
Revit frowned, “Our new Master will be there?”
Abernathy shook his head, “Perhaps.”
“Uh, Master Abernathy,” Aaprin quietly said as they approached the entry to the Guild Hall. “There is something you should know about Revit before we attempt crossing the Enchantment.”
The portly faeryn mage smiled ruefully, “Oh, you mean the fact that he’s pure blooded human, you mean?”
Revit blanched. Terus moved protectively in front of his best friend, “That’s a lie!”
Abernathy placed a gentle hand upon Terus’s stiff shoulder, “You two are quite the pair. I understand that not even a rumor of Revit’s parentage passes in the Academy. Probably because the Scroll Bound mages could never admit that a human child could work a true spell... Then, again, he never actually has, has he?”