Arcanist

by Terry Mancour

  “Are you made of money, Spellmonger?” one of them asked, shaking his head in wonder.

  “No, I’m made of magical rainbows, whimsy and starlight,” I chuckled. “But it pays well. So, which town do you fellows like better, Vorone or Vanador?” That sparked a discussion that involved the exotic mysteries of the latter and the erotic delicacies of the former. It was amusing to hear their perspectives. I went from there to a table of thaumaturges, outside their hall, where I cracked more jokes, thence to a table of clergy, and thence to a table of artisans. I was about to head for the next table when Brother Bryte finally found me.

  “I have been searching everywhere for you, Sire!” he gasped. “The court will begin shortly, but I had to make certain everything was in order. I need your signature and seal on these,” he said, shoving a sheaf of parchment at me. “Two copies, one for us and one for the Duke. These are just the preliminaries – we’ll have more ornate scrolls made up for the recipients.”

  “And those other matters of the court?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He nodded, grimly. “Everything is ready. They will be brought in when the herald calls for them. Magelord Azar has been informed and is preparing for his duty. Who is the herald, by the way?”

  “I haven’t made it official, yet, but it will be Jannik. In fact, if you have time, scribble up a quick appointment for him as my Court Herald before the ceremony.”

  “Certainly, certainly, I’ll just . . . scribble it up,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  I continued making the rounds and greeting people until Terleman summoned me back to the stage, mind-to-mind, and I joined Alya on the two throne-like chairs – okay, perhaps they were, technically, thrones – next to a second set where Pentandra and Arborn sat. As Baroness of Vanador, she was entitled to hold court with me. Which was novel for her, I think. As Ducal Court Wizard she served mostly in an administrative role, delegating her baronial responsibilities to Gareth and, to a lesser extent, me.

  Then court started, when Bryte handed Jannik a list of matters to be addressed and people to be called. I got to enjoy watching him do a double-take when he saw the first name on the list was his.

  “Was I bad?” he asked me, frowning.

  “Just open the court,” I urged. “All will become clear in time.”

  “I had thought that serving a magelord would be an improvement over a Wilderlord,” he said, with a sigh. “I’m finding that obscurity is just as difficult to contend with as ignorance. You lot always have to have your surprises . . .”

  A magically-enhanced bell got everyone’s attention before Jannik took the stage. He called into order the court of Count Minalan and Baroness Pentandra and demanded attention and silence in the politest of terms. Then he called himself before the court, which was amusing to watch.

  “Jannik the Rysh, you have been a steadfast ally in the struggle against the darkness since long before the establishment of the Magelaw,” I announced. “In recognition of that, and the remarkable service you have done for the realm, I name you Court Bard of the Wilderlands and the Herald of the Court of the Magelaw. There will, of course, be associated stipends and grants of estates, in due time, but for now the title of the Rysh will be known as one of the councilors of the court.”

  “Thank you, Sire!” Jannik said, with a graceful bow. I think he might have been blushing, but then again, he may have been drinking. “I shall do my utmost to surpass your expectations of the office. May I continue?” he asked, as if he’d received high court honors on a daily basis. “This is a rather long agenda. And I am full of beef,” he added, expressively, earning a laugh from the crowd.

  I chuckled and nodded. He wasn’t wrong.

  In very short order, I called upon my military staff, once again, to come before me in an official capacity. Popular adulation is one coin in which to pay your retainers, but in a feudal society rank and title can be more valuable. I’d seen how hard my people worked for me, and they deserved to be recognized for that effort. They’d managed a victory, twice, against overwhelming odds. They deserved a promotion.

  I named Terleman as the Viscount of Spellgate and made it his seat. Likewise, I named Tyndal the Viscount of Callierd, Azar the Viscount of Megelin, and Carmella the Viscount of the Towers. That rapid escalation of rank caused quite a stir in the crowd.

  Traditionally, viscount is a rank associated with the coastlands of Alshar, although I believe there are a few Castali viscounts, as well. As a deputy count, the essentially military title grants responsibility for the defense of a designated region and supersedes the authority of the barons, there. In Enultramar the title had changed a bit, as their littoral nature required that many viscounties were associated with the maintenance of locks, docks, canals, landings and anchorages more than castle walls and military training.

  But it was a perfectly good title, though infrequently used, and it suited my purposes. With Azar responsible for the west, Tyndal the north, and Carmella the southern frontier of the Magelaw, and Terleman in charge of Spellgate’s strategic surroundings, the organization of our defense was institutionalized. It also meant that they could overrule any baronies included in their mandate, which helped ensure stability in our defense. We’d sort out specifics later, but their new titles would include some new responsibilities and new resources, I knew.

  There was thunderous applause from the Vanadori, at the appointments. I let it fade before I began handing out honors to our other warriors. First, I had the Sky Captains called to court. All three looked disturbed, no doubt by their dinner conversation, but managed to wave and bow appropriately while they were being honored. Jannik told the tale of their heroic and decisive efforts in the war, and how key it was to our victory. He effortlessly spun the tale of how the Alka Alon surprised us with forty new Sky Riders, welcome and unexpected aid at a critical time. He introduced Ithalia – whom most of the city already recognized – and lauded her riders beautifully.

  I granted them and their riders a generous award – it’s expensive to feed giant hawks, if you hadn’t guessed – and inducted them into the Order of the Anvil.

  That was on Jannik’s suggestion and had Bryte’s endorsement. While rank, title, lands and coin all have value, there comes a time to flatter people’s vanity. The Order of the Anvil was designed to reward those who had done remarkable service to the realm. After the Sky Captains, I went on to induct Mavone, Caswallon, Astyral, Wenek and several other important figures into it. I don’t know if we really needed another order complicating things, but it seemed like a good way to ensure loyalty.

  Then came the more serious part of the court. Jannik loudly summoned Iron Peg and her family before the thrones. In chains.

  “These people have been accused of treason against the Magelaw and against their lawful liege,” he said, gesturing to the six of them huddled in front of the stage. “Specifically, Lady Pegala, also called Iron Peg, Lady of Iron Hill, did conspire with the enemy. She ordered her men, including her brothers, to seize the warmagi protecting them, unawares, knock them unconscious and then kidnap them to her mines. After such treachery, she bound them and attempted to convey them to agents of our enemy – renegades from the Penumbra,” he added, earning some hissing from the crowd. Everyone was familiar with those ruffians who not only did not mind trading with the genocidal gurvani, but who also did not mind trading in the human slaves the gurvani desired. They were not popular, in Vanador.

  “If it had not been for the timely arrival of Baron Astyral and Magelord Caswallon, with a heroic party of Iron Bandsmen, they might have become mere bodies for the foul Nemovorti to consume,” Jannik said with special emphasis. That inspired some boos and more hisses.

  “Iron Peg,” I said, “you stand here now accused of these facts, these violations of your oath to your liege lords and treason against the realm. Your brothers have confessed. Do you have any defense to offer?”

  Peg didn’t look well. A week in the Crevice dungeon isn’t torture, but it isn’
t pleasant. Her flinty eyes blazed at me, and her pallid skin was covered in nervous sweat. But her jaw continued to jut at me, defiantly.

  “You’re no proper lord!” she accused, bitterly. “You’re nothing but a godsdamned wizard!”

  “I am your godsdamn liege,” I corrected. “One you made an oath of homage to just a few months ago, in this very town. I’m curious as to why you chose to sell out your countrymen and the men who were defending you.”

  “Why? She asked, angrily, the barked a harsh laugh. “Why? Two years ago, I could take iron to Vorone and fetch a decent price. Not a lot, but enough to support my holding and pay our tribute,” she said, bitterly. “This year? The price of pig iron has fallen so far in Vorone that it cost more to cart it there than it was worth!” she spat.

  “That is not sufficient grounds for rebellion,” Pentandra commented, sternly.

  “How is it not?” Peg asked, haughtily. I caught sight of Anvaram, in the first row of seats around the stage, surrounded by his gentlemen. He looked amused at seeing our dirty laundry. “I got to feed my people,” Iron Peg reasoned. “We always get decent prices for iron before. But this year? The market was flooded with Vanador iron,” she sneered. “All they want to buy is Vanador iron – or even steel!” she said, nearly shrieking. “Whoever heard of preferring steel to iron? It’s too expensive! But the market is loaded with steel, cheap steel, steel what never felt a hammer on it! They were selling pure steel ingots cheaper than last year’s iron ingots!” she complained with a wail, as if that somehow scandalized her. “And they were selling iron so cheap it could have been bread! If Iron Hill cannot make a profit under this . . . this wizard, then we will not support this wizard!” she declared.

  “Then I will find vassals who can!” I thundered. “How many died because of your treachery? How many were ruined because you valued iron more than the people you were sworn to protect? Your own vassals? You have violated your oath of fealty. For that alone, the penalty is death,” I pronounced.

  A collective shudder went through the crowd. I’d given death sentences before, for much the same crimes. The first time is hard. The second is easier. I don’t know what that says about me, morally, but I didn’t take the duty lightly. Sovereign authority had to be maintained, especially during a time of war, else all I had built would collapse. I might not be the wisest wizard in the world, but I knew that much.

  “Your guilt is evident and freely confessed,” I said, evenly. Two of the brothers had told the entire story to a magistrate, under a truthtell spell; we didn’t bother with the rest. “House Farradine, I pronounce you guilty, as your sovereign lord. I’ve already signed the warrants for your execution. Your lands and property are stripped from you and forfeited to the Magelaw. They will be given to those better able to lead them. You will be given this last night to shrive yourselves from the clergy of your choice. You will be fed one last meal. And, on the morrow, at dawn, you will be returned to this place, where the Ducal Executioner, Viscount Azar of Megelin, will remove your heads, after a public reading of the charges.

  “As a special favor to you,” I added, my eyes narrowing, “I am having Azar forgo the usual magical means of execution and use the iron you love so much to take your heads. Get them out of here, they disgust me,” I finished, and waited until the town guard did just that.

  There was a mutter in the crowd, as people reacted to the stark sentence. We’d lost plenty of people in the war, at least four thousand, perhaps more. I knew several hundred owed their deaths to Iron Peg’s clan. I wanted to be clear about my attention to my duty of pursuing justice . . . because I needed the precedent set before the next case.

  “Bring in the spies,” Jannik commanded the guards, loudly. There was another stir in the crowd, as three more men were brought before the stage in chains. I watched Anvaram’s face as they were brought in. He recognized them immediately.

  Sir Holwyn, Sir Lenameth and Sire Grenard did not look particularly noble, in their dirty, shabby old clothes, but then spending the time in the stables of Anguin’s Tower wasn’t any better for your wardrobe than it was your health. But they were alive, well fed and ready to face justice.

  “You gentlemen are charged with the crime of spying on Vanador during a time of war, in the pay of a hostile power,” Jannik intoned, solemnly. “You have confessed all of this under a duly cast truthtell spell. The court calls Sir Holcot and Sire Molanar, both of Gilmora,” Jannik said, casually.

  Anvaram’s face was stricken, now. Perhaps he had forgotten the three hapless knights he had sent to Vanador to scout the land and rescue Lady Maithieran. But I hadn’t. I’d made certain that the two knights who had given them the mission, Sir Holcot and Sire Molanar, were among the three hundred Gilmorans invited to the banquet. When they rose, confusedly, the city guard were quick to move forward and escort them to the front of the stage, beside the spies.

  They looked guilty and anxious, suddenly, though they were noblemen of high order. I surveyed their faces carefully. “You gentlemen have been implicated in this matter,” I told them. “You have been named under truthtell spell as the men who gave these knights their insidious task. What do you have to say about that?” I inquired.

  Holcot stiffened. Molanar sneered.

  “We will say nothing!” Molanar insisted.

  “Do you know these gentlemen?” I began, with patience. They stood mute, glaring at me, while Anvaram squirmed nervously. Finally, I sighed. “All right. Chancellor Bryte, will you please bring forth the magistrate, while I get Baroness Pentandra to cast the truthtell spell?”

  “You will not cast any foul spell on me!” Holcot insisted. “You do not have the authority!”

  “I am the baroness of this land,” Pentandra said, evenly. “That gives me the authority. I’ve been away at court in Falas, so I am ignorant of any particulars. And I am an Imperially-trained wizard. I believe my credentials are in order,” she added, drawing a laugh from the crowd. As Alshari Ducal Court Wizard, issuing those credentials was her responsibility.

  “I will not be the subject of sorcery!” Molanar said, though from the looks Anvaram was giving him, it was the secrets that Molanar might possibly tell that was the issue.

  “You will be subject to the lawful administration of a spell ordered by the Count Palatine,” corrected Pentandra, coolly. “You will then tell the absolute truth in answer of any questions that are put to you. Any questions,” she emphasized. Anvaram got pale, and his eyes widened.

  As Pentandra began doing the spell – with some completely unnecessary waving of her pretty baculus, for effect – Anvaram finally stood and burst out, “Stop! For the love of Trygg, stop!”

  I had him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Crinoline and Silk Slippers

  “Pride leaves no room for wisdom.”

  Wilderlands Folk Saying

  From the Collections of Jannik the Rysh

  “Is it a custom to interrupt an official court proceeding in your land, Count Anvaram?” Pentandra asked, her voice low and harsh. “In the Magelaw, it is not custom, nor is it proper.”

  “My lady,” Anvaram continued, pausing only slightly at the rebuke, “This entire proceeding is not proper! I object to it!” He glanced at his officers, nervously, and then looked around at the City Watch who stood nearby. They were all large men, in new steel armor, and their halberds were held disturbingly close.

  “How is it not proper?” I asked, arching an eyebrow in confusion. “These three men were apprehended during the commission of a hostile act during a time of war,” I reminded him. “Under questioning, they revealed the names of those who set them on this mission. As they are here in court, now, and have been properly called, they can be asked questions. I don’t see what the trouble is,” I shrugged.

  “The trouble is that these men are under my command—” he said, and halted, realizing he’d just admitted his own connection to the plot. “That is, they serve me,” he corrected. “I cannot allow them to be q
uestioned in this manner.” He folded his hands over his chest, as if that settled the matter.

  “I don’t see how you can stop it,” Pentandra said, icily. I realized how much I’d missed her, since her appointment to Court Wizard and the subsequent flurry of special duties. “Nor would I recommend it, lest we take this matter to a higher power.”

  “If you persist, I will have no choice to inform Prince Tavard!” he warned.

  “If you resist, I will have no choice but to put this matter before King Rard,” I shot back. “Your authority over your men is not absolute. While in the Magelaw, they are subject to my laws. If you wish to appeal, and have these men testify – under truthtell spell – before the King and Queen and the Royal Court, I will oblige you.”

  The idea appalled Anvaram. “You must be joking! It will take a month to travel to Castabriel!”

  “We can be there within the hour, at need,” Pentandra reminded him. “And as a member of the Royal Court, Count Minalan has every right to do so. What I’m wondering,” she continued, tapping her chin with her finger as she studied the man, “is what you are afraid they will speak of. Perhaps something embarrassing?” she asked, amused. “Or scandalous? Or, perhaps, incriminating?”

  Anvaram struggled, realizing that he did not have the power, here. “What will happen to these men?” he asked, gesturing to the three hapless spies.

  “If they are guilty, then I will set the penalty,” I assured him. “The penalty for espionage during a time of war is the same as that of treason.”