by D. H. Aire
“Yes, my cousin does appear to have some connection,” the Empress replied, not wanting to say more since her agents in the region had only recently passed on rather limited intelligence –– pointedly limited intelligence.
Frowning, Senason suggested, “Perhaps, a dispatch is in order... Anything concerning the Provinces must be suspect.”
It was the Empress’s turn to sigh, “I dread the thought of civil war— it serves only the Demonlord.”
The herald nodded, turning away as the dance ended and more food was brought out to the buffet. Grendel smiled at the old man as he ascended the first step to the Empress’s position, instantly barred by a member of the Imperial Guard.
The Empress glanced down at him. Grendel smiled more broadly, “Majesty, may I have word?”
Balfour thought he might never catch up with Carwina. The crowd seemed to block his every attempt. Se’and, however, was not one to be deterred. “This way,” she said, assisting him until finally just before the exit that Carwina was rushing toward, Balfour intercepted her, blocking her path.
Carwina gaped in surprise seeing him suddenly before her. Se’and carefully stationed herself to the side. Her hands rested on the secreted hilts of her daggers. The crowd huffily edged past them.
“It’s, uh, been a long time,” was all Balfour could think to say, standing less than a foot away from her.
“It’s been over forty years, Bal... You never wrote. You promised you would.”
“We were just children with dreams of healing the world.” She shook her head bitterly, a world of pain glistening behind her eyes. “We were never young, Bal. Step aside, you’ve another life now— I’ve my own.”
He knew not what else to say in the awkward silence that followed and stepped aside. Carwina brushed past, while the milling crowd muttered at him angrily.
“That all you could think to say?” Se’and said.
Balfour’s shoulders slumped, “Um, yeah.”
“Men.”
The Empress gestured and the mage, Grendel, ascended, “You honor me, Your Majesty.”
“Try not to bore me over much, Mage.”
“I would not dream of it,” he chuckled, meeting Senason’s dark and forbidding look. “But I just wished to ask you what you thought of the man’s effrontery?”
The Empress stood taller, “Effrontery, how?”
“Why, the woman beside him, there, and the other he arrived with. Did you hear how they were announced? Her, there,” he pointed at the returning Se’and, “she was announced by the herald as the ‘First-of-the-House.’ The foremost of his wives is what that meant... I understand that he has at least two more living with him in that house of his in the Third Tier— and such a one seeks the Highmage’s Seat?!”
Herald Lowell paused at the bottom step to the Empress’s booth. He hurriedly came back up as the Empress muttered, “Wives?”
“My lady, if I may—” Lowell offered as Senason’s eyes alit with delight. The Empress and mages turned to him. Grendel seemed most displeased to note his return. However, the Empress gestured for him to proceed. With a reassuring smile, the herald continued, “The human candidate is a Cathartan lord with retinue as the herald announced, but what was said reveals much more than what the good mage here intimates.”
“Explain.”
“Yes, Majesty. Both Lord Je’orj and the healer, Balfour, were announced as Cathartan lords ‘by Bond,’ meaning that those Cathartans in attendance were given for acts done –– not properly wedded as Imperial custom demands.”
“That young woman, there, is pregnant, is she not, herald?” Grendel asked wryly. “The marriage seems sound enough.”
Now, Lowell grinned, “It would appear that Lord Balfour du Winome has started a family. Amazing what one can pick up by listening carefully.”
Senason frowned. “Then what purpose do such gifted wives serve?”
The Empress glanced over her shoulder, realizing that the presence of the blond haired woman was not satisfactory. Why should she even care? The human would never rise to the position of Highmage, no matter Alrex’s desires. “They are his bodyguards,” Lowell replied in that teaching voice that berated others for what should be obvious.
The Empress turned back hastily, “Bodyguards?”
“The legends,” Senason mumbled.
“The Cathartan Houses are best known abroad for their skills with sword and dagger. They are formidable, possibly the equal of your own Guard, Majesty.”
Grendel shook his head, “I must ask your pardon, Majesty. I never considered such a possibility. Forgive me for thinking worse of the human merely because he feigns skill at magery.”
“Feigns?” Senason laughed. “He bested your challenges before the Guild before my very eyes. Although, I must say, I thought I felt the heat of the illusionary fire you cast!”
Grendel locked gazes with his rival, “Such is my skill. By your leave, Majesty.”
Nodding, the Empress watched him leave with evident relief, with the herald only a step behind him. She found herself unable to take her eyes off the human. “Excuse me, I must retire for a time,” she muttered to Senason and left the booth, the Imperial Guard taking position around her.
Senason watched her go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“To a safer course of study,” George murmured to Me’oh as the dance drew to a close as the buffet was being served by what appeared to be a staff of a hundred.
Lady Rowena bowed to him, “You have proved a most excellent partner, milord.”
Ofran chuckled with Me’oh on his arm as they returned to the slightly dazed looking Aaprin, who was a tad out of breath. “Uh, here, Master,” Aaprin exclaimed, thrusting the staff back into his master’s grasp.
George smiled and said, “Thank you.” Then seemingly mumbled to the surprised Lady Rowena, “Couldn’t leave him be, eh?”
:There was much of interest, George... Oh, by the way, here come Se’and and Balfour. Perhaps, Se’and would like the next dance.:
“Not if I can help it,” he muttered as Aaprin stared at him, hearing every word silently passing between staff and mage. Balfour coughed into his hand, catching a hint of the repartee. He would have to have a chat with the lad –– and very soon by the look on Aaprin’s face.
Se’and frowned at seeing the strangers at Je’orj’s side.
“Bal,” delightedly cried the elf.
Balfour immediately embraced the older elf and Se’and relaxed ever so slightly.
“Uh, Je’orj, Se’and, I would like to introduce you to my uncle, Master Ofrandiel of the Imperial Healing Hall, my late mother’s brother.”
“Please, just call me Ofran.”
Se’and smiled, “So, it is to you we owe our humble new home in this fine city.”
He grinned, “Actually, it is to this fine lady you owe that debt, Rowena of the Merchant House of the same name.”
“I do hope you all like it,” the elvin woman said, resting her hand upon Je’orj’s elbow, which earned her a dark look from Se’and.
“It’s perfect,” George hastened to reply as Se’and took his other arm and half dragged him toward the dance floor.
“Uh, you’ll have to excuse us,” Se’and shouted over her shoulder as George gaped. Balfour grinned ruefully, “Excuse me.” He quickly followed the pair and accepted the staff from his reluctant friend.
Me’oh grinned at the staring Aaprin, “Oh, go on, you look like you need a trip to the buffet.”
Not delaying even a moment, Aaprin, with evident pleasure, hurried off. Me’oh grinned, glancing back at Balfour, noticing a sadness echoed in his gaze.
A knowing look passed between his uncle Ofran and Balfour as their gazes locked for the briefest instant. The music started and Balfour had to keep up with Je’orj and Se’and.
Ofran recognized that look of anguish in his nephew’s eyes and said to Me’oh, “It’s good to see him here. The Empress must be listening to some of us.” The
y walked the dance for a time, then George apparently had enough and took back his staff. Se’and glared at him, but refused to leave his side.
Shaking his head, Balfour returned.
His uncle grinned, “I understand Lord Je’orj will be seeing Alrex tomorrow.”
“Even if nothing can be done,” Balfour whispered half-heartedly.
Ofran sighed, casually drawing the Lady Rowena closer to his nephew. Patrons were difficult to come by, and Ofran still had high hopes for Balfour. “Me’oh, did Balfour tell you about the surgery he performed yesterday?”
Balfour flushed slightly as Me’oh grinned, “He neglected mentioning anything special.”
“No one had ever seen the like,” Ofran chuckled, “Master Crantel even called in Priests of Knowledge to see what foul work ‘his human skills might have brought upon that hapless individual in the ward.’ Oh, the look on his face when the priests actually bowed to Balfour and asked if he would take a look at their Elder Sage.”
Me’oh elbowed Balfour, whispering, “You told me none of this.”
He quickly frowned. “I didn’t want to concern you with petty politics.” Squeezing her hand, he brought it to his lips, “I saw the Sage this morning. It turned out to be just a case of rheumatism.”
:Arthritis,: Staff reminded him as Balfour blinked past sudden tears brought on by a full burst diagnostic review on the subject.
“Arthritis,” he amended hastily.
:That’s better,: replied the gently flashing staff.
Tightening his grip, Balfour wished he had Je’orj’s particular flare at curtailing the worst of the computer staff’s imprecations.
Across the room George closed his eyes as Se’and glanced about them, wary. He said, “I didn’t realize you were so accomplished.”
“Sisters to an heir of a House must learn all the graces,” she replied with a cryptic smile.
George realized he was angry with himself. Se’and was beautiful. On the dance floor he had suddenly felt a yearning he dared not act upon— knowing this was a trap worse than the one he’d already fallen into with Fri’il.
Instinctively he wanted to say the words, but withheld uttering them, knowing they would stab Se’and worse than any dagger. ‘I intend to leave,’ his gaze forlornly broadcast as he opened his eyes.
Meeting his gaze, she smiled that confounding, assured, smile of hers, while the dance continued. The music rose in a crescendo and he closed his eyes, leaning on his staff, which seemed to twinkle with light.
For a moment they stood thus, George reminding himself to breathe as he took Se’and’s hand. His heart was breaking, then he sensed something and turned to look at the carefully guarded Imperial booth.
The Empress was staring at him. There was something about her gaze that deeply disturbed him.
George could see himself standing at her side as Se’and stood beside him at this very moment. A terrible sense of conflict and pain roared through him. He stumbled and Se’and tried to unobtrusively steady him.
The Empress of the Aqwaine Empire frowned, shaking her head in momentary confusion before she retired from her booth. Se’and followed his gaze and took a firmer, more possessive grip on his arm. George glanced at her in surprise, but made no comment.
As they returned to their little group the Lady Rowena warily watched them both out of the corner of her eye, then called over others to begin proper introductions to members of the Court.
Rowena’s presence signaled a visible thaw in the hostility that had greeted the human mage since his arrival.
Master Ofran was privately pleased, yet wondered if Rowena had been the best choice, after all.
Grendel returned to the small group of elvin mages clustered around Kolter of Hayden. The Master turned his full attention away from the human mage and those now throwing themselves before his attention. Kolter frowned considering the Lady Rowena and asked Grendel, “Well?”
“Not well,” was his low voiced answer.
When Kolter smiled, Grendel felt a chill of dread. “No matter. There are other things in the winds that should place matters more firmly within your grasp.”
Aaprin
3
Aaprin was working his way through the buffet for the second time, when he was jostled ungently by one of the Academy apprentices. “So, your new master’s training you in the Arts Fakir.”
“Rexil,” Aaprin said, turning to face the lad, who had less elvin blood than most at the Academy yet, still had more control of the elvin lore than Aaprin had ever thought himself capable. “I am truly surprised to find you here. I thought your master would have you walking his dog by now.”
Face darkening, the other mage apprentices clustered around them and laughed at Aaprin’s remark, which infuriated and embarrassed Rexil. “Oh, now is that one of the tasks of magery your new master believes important to learn?”
Now, Aaprin did smile. “No. As his senior apprentice it is my task to assign such duties to others as the senior apprentice to your master tends to offer so often to you.”
Rexil muttered something under his breath. An odor began coming from Aaprin, who instead of trying to mutter the response spell that Rexil knew Aaprin had never been able to effect, simply concentrated.
The smell moved to Rexil, who shouted, forgetting his spell utterly.
The other apprentices gaped even as the assigned apprentice master, Journeyman Halran, hurried over and yelled, “No spell casting. That’s the rule in the Aqwaine’s Hall! Now what happened here?”
Rexil pointed at Aaprin, the hem of his cloak mildly blackened. “He did this!”
The Apprentice Master laughed, “We both know that’s quite impossible!” then at Aaprin’s dark look. “Uh, I mean...”
Aaprin replied, “I understand. And you are quite right. I am quite incapable of casting spells— or so my master assures me.”
Frowning, Halran glanced at the other apprentices, “So, what happened here? Or do we all see Master Stenh in his office bright and early tomorrow morning?”
Tight lipped, they all looked back at him a little pale. With a sigh, Halran turned to look at Rexil and Aaprin. He knew them both well. “Must I speak with both your masters?”
“I think that might be best,” said a deep voice behind them.
The journeyman straightened and nodded, “Lord Mage.” Master Stenh, Dean of the Imperial Academy of Magery, was accompanied by the captain of the Empress’s Guard. The presence of the sword at his side sent hair-raising tingles through the apprentices. “Minor magery has been worked in this place,” remarked the Captain coldly.
Rexil went pale as a sheet. Aaprin looked at Master Stenh blankly, just beginning to realize what he had done in the Aqwaine’s very Halls.
Stenh glared at the two lads, “You will both come with us. Your masters will be summoned.” He briefly glanced at the Guard Captain, who nodded and touched one of the rings on his fingers.
Elsewhere in the Hall, guards jerked to attention, paused, then approached the mages they were being summoned to attend in this matter.
“I… I, uh, meant no harm,” mumbled Rexil, who pointed at Aaprin as if to accuse him.
Master Stenh grew livid, “Save excuses for your master.” He glared at the other lads, “You lads had best take your leave to the secondary hall. The captain may need to question you further.”
The apprentices practically fled from the ballroom.
Aaprin swallowed, thinking to himself, what have I done?! Then he straightened and followed Master Stenh. The captain had to physically urge Rexil forward.
Je’orj and Se’and trailed after the Imperial guardsman that appeared quickly at his side, stating that a matter concerning his apprentice’s behavior had come to their attention.
Balfour looked vaguely worried, but his uncle assured him that Aaprin was fine; otherwise, the Guard would have said something. If matters had required healers, certainly he would have been notified. This eased Balfour’s mind not at all, as he wat
ched Je’orj stride stiffly across the Hall after the guard, drawing a great deal of unwonted attention.
Me’oh looked on worriedly as the Lady Rowena made a casual remark about apprentices always in trouble, but what Me’oh was really thinking made Balfour unconsciously stiffen.
He had to work very hard to feign ease, appearances must be maintained. This was the Court and they might need all the help they could get in the not so distant future.
George and Se’and were led through a draperied archway and down a corridor which led to what appeared to be a sitting room. With a slight frown, George knew instinctively that there was a hidden door to the room.
The Guard paused, “Madame, you will come with me, please.” Se’and bristled. “No harm is intended. I am simply taking you to a place we may watch from without intruding upon what shall transpire.”
She frowned, but let herself be led to the rear wall.
The guard halted and whispered the elvish word that sounded to her as a mere jumble of sounds. The word keyed an ancient spell. The wall shimmered. The doorway George had sensed appeared. The Guard gestured for Se’and to precede him into the darkness of the doorway. She touched the fabric of the dress at her thigh, taking comfort in the thin blade which would come easily to hand should the need arise. She stepped through the archway and vanished.
The Guard followed and disappeared through the door as if he had never been, before the doorway itself faded from view.
George frowned curiously, walking toward where the door had been, no longer even feeling the vague sense that the room had had a second door. Abruptly he turned, knowing he was no longer alone and bowed, “Your Majesty.”
The Empress gazed at him looking slightly perturbed.
Touching a ring upon her finger, a chair suddenly appeared behind her. She sat. “You are quite the puzzle, do you know? It seemed necessary, and very politic I might add, to stage an incident that we might speak. “Master Stenh assures me that your apprentice will come to no harm. He also told me that whatever it is you do that might be considered magery cannot be detected by mage, charm, or my guardsmen— whose Bane Swords are very sensitive, indeed.”