On the day that the big black bird had swooped in and taken it, the loss had been symbolic. Clearly, some mainland sorcerer had wanted the chalice, and that would have been the end of the matter—until her grandmother seized on it as a way to get rid of a potential embarrassment.
Not until she met Jemeryl had Tevi understood that the chalice was far more than a vessel to hold liquids. Within its structure, the chalice held the formula for every compound that had ever been made in it. In particular, this chalice held the results of some forbidden research, performed by the sorcerer Lorimal two hundred years before. Somebody had sent the bird for the chalice. The clear implication was that this person was now copying Lorimal’s banned experiments. Hence their current mission in Ekranos, but they had not been given much information to work with.
Tevi frowned. “I wish we knew what this forbidden magic did.”
“So do I, but I wasn’t told.”
“We don’t even know how dangerous it is.”
“Well, the Guardian said that Lorimal had been naïve rather than malicious. You don’t create people-eating monsters through naïveté.”
“So the same might be true for the person who took the chalice. Maybe they are just being curious.”
Jemeryl shook her head. “If they found out about Lorimal, then they must have found out that she was stopped from completing her work. They can’t claim ignorance. It is an act of deliberate treachery.”
“That’s a serious word to use.”
“It’s justified. Our oath of obedience to the Guardian is what holds the Coven together. It’s what has kept the Protectorate going for centuries. Other sorcerers must have tried collaborating in the past, but whatever they did, it didn’t last long enough to leave any trace. Once any sorcerer starts thinking that they can re-write the rulebook, before you know it, the Coven will be torn apart and the Protectorate will be destroyed. It doesn’t matter so much what the rule is. Somebody has broken their oath and betrayed us all.”
Tevi slumped down in her chair as familiar doubts resurfaced. “It doesn’t make sense. On one level, your leaders in the Coven are saying that the future of the Protectorate is at stake. And then they send just you and me to sort it out on our own. Why didn’t they send a dozen senior sorcerers?”
Jemeryl shrugged. “There’s a lot they aren’t telling us.”
“Such as?”
“They were playing around with oracles before we met. Not just trying to read the future, they were trying to manipulate it. That was why they ordered me to go with you on your quest, even though, at the time, they didn’t know you were looking for Lorimal’s chalice.”
“And I wasn’t really looking for it.”
“The important thing is that you are now—which was a result of their mucking about.”
“So we know it is going to be all right? Their oracle told them that we’d catch the traitor without any other help?”
“I wish. Oracles don’t work like that. And we’re not even certain that the traitor is here.”
“What happens if they’re somewhere else?”
“The Guardian and the other seniors in Lyremouth said they’d take care of it.”
“Supposing the person isn’t even a member of the Coven?”
“Lorimal died over one hundred and fifty years ago. Only the Coven has records going back that far. Nobody outside the Coven could know that she had ever existed. Except...” Jemeryl’s voice died.
“Except?”
“Even people in the Coven shouldn’t be able to find out about her. All information about her work was deleted. And not long after she’d stopped working on whatever it was, she took her ill-conceived plant potion, which left her thinking like a daffodil. Everyone assumed she was then harmless and ignored her. No one paid any notice when she went missing off the coast of Walderim, until it was realised that her chalice had been lost with her. Then someone realised the formula was still in the memory chalice. So even more information about her was removed from the records. There shouldn’t be anything left to set someone off on the trail of the chalice.”
“Something must have been overlooked.”
“Most likely yes. And Ekranos is the place to look, since Lorimal was a herbalist. All the Coven’s leading authorities are here, and whatever record there is of Lorimal will be in the library.”
“You said, ‘most likely.’ How else would someone find out about her?”
“Some people have always been told about Lorimal—such as the three most senior sorcerers at Lyremouth. The principal of the school here is another.”
“Why?”
“On the off chance that the chalice turned up some day. The authorities thought it vital to keep watch against anyone trying to repeat Lorimal’s work. That’s why Iralin understood at once when I told her about your quest. Lorimal’s name had meant nothing to me beforehand.”
“So either the principal here is the traitor, or he’s not doing his job very well.”
Jemeryl smiled “My gut feeling is for the second option. Bramell is...well, let’s say that it wouldn’t be hard to pull the wool over his eyes. He lacks imagination. He clings to the rulebook like a limpet to a rock. It saves him having to make decisions. I don’t think he trusts his own judgement, which is why I don’t think he’d take Lorimal’s chalice. He lacks the initiative and the nerve.”
“I get this odd feeling you don’t like him.”
“No. I don’t. He couldn’t have got where he is without the ability to be a great sorcerer, but he wants to be a booking clerk. He’s a waste of talent.”
“Maybe taking the chalice is his bid to show what he can do.”
“You haven’t met the man.” Jemeryl grimaced.
“Who, apart from him, is a suspect?”
“Surprisingly few.” Jemeryl leaned forward and rested her head at an angle against her hand. “Our traitor had to find out about Lorimal, recover the chalice, and then work on it in secret. That last point means it has to be a senior sorcerer. A junior could manage the odd hour when no one was around, but it would be risky. They couldn’t hide in a room all day without having to explain what they were doing.”
“How many seniors are there?”
“Seven—including Bramell.”
“Who are the others?”
“The second-most-senior sorcerer is the deputy, Neame. She’s also free to do whatever she wants. Bramell leaves everything to do with herbalism to her. She’s in charge of the hospital. In fact, if Bramell ever got his nose out of his ledgers, he’d realise that she’s running the school, not him. It’s ridiculous that Bramell was promoted over her.”
“How did Bramell get chosen?”
“It would have been a ballot of the senior sorcerers in the Coven. Most would never have met either Bramell or Neame in person. Perhaps that had something to do with it. Bramell looks much more impressive from a distance.”
“Might Neame be bitter and out for revenge?”
“I don’t think so. It’s purely personal, but I like Neame. I admire her for all the reasons that I don’t admire Bramell. And she cares about people—the ordinary ungifted citizens. She really does. Her life is devoted to healing. I can’t see her wanting to destroy the Protectorate.”
“Could she have found out about Lorimal?”
“Possibly. All the books should have been removed from the main library, but there’s a special section containing restricted information. Something about Lorimal is probably kept there just so Bramell can check up on what people shouldn’t be doing.”
“Neame has access to this area?”
“Yes. As do Bramell and Moragar, the librarian.”
“Moragar’s our third suspect?”
Jemeryl nodded. “He doesn’t have the same degree of freedom as Bramell and Neame, but he’s superbly placed to study anything that catches his attention. And if he wants to spend time alone in the library, after it has closed at night...” Jemeryl shrugged to emphasise the point. “Who’s going to qu
estion it? Against him as a suspect is that he became chief librarian less than three years ago, a few months after the chalice was taken. Before that, he was deputy to the previous librarian and shouldn’t have had access to restricted books, but—”
“The mate often knows more about what’s going on than the captain,” Tevi finished the sentence.
“True, although what I’d been going to say was that rules get broken.”
Laughter erupted nearby. The sound dropped to an embarrassed murmur as soon as Jemeryl twisted to look, and the group of five merchants fixed their eyes on the tabletop. Jemeryl’s face held a bemused frown when she turned back.
“Why do ungifted people assume sorcerers are offended by good humour?”
“Perhaps they’re frightened you’ll think they’re laughing at you.”
“I’m not paranoid. What is there to laugh at?”
Klara’s beak opened a fraction. Tevi forestalled any comments with an admonishing finger, but a grin spread across her face and her mood lightened. It took little to imagine what Klara would have done with a gift like that.
Tevi reverted to the suspects. “Who else is on the list?”
“Levannue. She’s in charge of non-medicinal herbalism and psychic studies. She has her own building where she can research whatever she fancies. Actually, her work is so specialised, most sorcerers wouldn’t understand what she’s doing even if she tried explaining it. I haven’t had any contact with her, but I know she’s been Bramell’s partner for years. They have children and grandchildren in Ekranos. Which makes me think it’s not her. I can’t imagine anyone with the faintest tendency towards rebellion putting up with Bramell for longer than a one-night stand.”
“Maybe his nitpicking has made her snap.”
Jemeryl laughed. “Anyway, I don’t see how she’d have found out about Lorimal. She doesn’t have access to the restricted books, and Bramell would never break the rules by telling her.”
“He might talk in his sleep.”
“I think that if Bramell talks in his sleep, he’d be reciting the regulations concerning the maintenance of school property.”
“Really? Do all sorcerers do that? I’d thought it was just a strange quirk of yours.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m sure I have far more interesting things to say.”
“Well, maybe.” Tevi grinned. “Who’s next?”
“Orrago, I guess. She used to be principal, so she’ll know about Lorimal, but she’s not a serious suspect. Sorcerers don’t generally retire. We usually patch ourselves together and die on our feet. However, Orrago developed a bad case of dementia. That’s why she had to resign. It also means she’s no longer capable of anything as complex as retrieving information from a memory chalice.”
“Unless her mental state is due to taking some of Lorimal’s plant potion.”
“Nobody’s mentioned her talking to the geraniums, and she was losing her grip long before the chalice was taken.”
“Right, so there are just two more to go. Who are they?”
“One is master of apprentices, Uwien. But I don’t think he’s a candidate, as he’s held the post for less than a year. Before that, he ran the apprentice school at Denbury—it’s unlikely that any information about Lorimal is there. And even if Uwien got the chalice, he’d have no time to work on it. Keeping on top of the apprentices is a full-time job. I think he only sits down at mealtimes.”
“We can’t reject him. Maybe Denbury was overlooked too readily in the past and something was missed.”
“A good point. But the last senior is definitely not a suspect. Roddis is head of admin, and she’s a senior in name only. Administration used to be Bramell’s post, and he’s never let go. It would take a crowbar to separate him from his records. He double-checks everything Roddis does. She couldn’t get away with an overdue library book, let alone researching into forbidden magic.”
“That completes the list?”
“That completes the list,” Jemeryl confirmed.
“You seem to be discounting all of them.”
Jemeryl groaned. “No. It has to be one, and it’s all just gut feelings. Hopefully I can find some real evidence.”
Tevi leaned back and looked around the bar. While they had been talking, the number of customers present had dwindled. Candles had burned low; some had flickered out. Even the canaries were quiet. Klara had fallen asleep on the table, balanced on one leg. Tevi finished her drink and put the tankard down. She nudged it with her forefingers until the base lined up with two knots on the wooden surface. She had only to catch the eye of the bar staff to have the tankard refilled, free of charge, but she had drunk enough and would rather have paid anyway.
“How do we narrow down the suspects?”
“A good place to start is with the theft of the chalice. There are trained ravens at the school—for general use, not bound to any individual. I’ll bet one of them took the chalice.”
“Why does the school keep them?”
“Collecting samples. They can pick plants if a fresh herb is required urgently. They’re big birds and can lift quite a weight. In the wild, they’ll manage a rabbit without any trouble. Plus the whole crow family is particularly suited to magic.” Jemeryl smiled affectionately at Klara. “A sorcerer can take over the bird and control where it goes and what it does. It’s called mind-riding. However, with the shields, a sorcerer inside the school can’t control a bird outside. I’ll need to find out if anyone took a raven off for a few days during early summer, three years back.” Jemeryl’s expression shifted to a frown.
“What is it?”
“I’m wondering if I should add the raven keeper to the list of suspects. He could have sent a raven for the chalice without anyone else knowing.”
“Is he a senior sorcerer?”
“Not technically. The way people talk about him, he doesn’t seem to fit into the school hierarchy at all. He’s a bit reclusive. I don’t know how he could have learnt about Lorimal, but I guess information about her might have been overlooked in an unexpected place, such as a book of lunch menus for ravens.”
“You’re going to have to find out more about him—and everyone else.”
“True.” Jemeryl drained her drink. “I’ve had one stroke of luck, though I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. I’m sharing a study with a sorcerer called Vine. She’s the biggest gossip in the school. I might even add her to the list of suspects. If she’s not found out about Lorimal’s spell, it must be the only secret that’s ever been successfully hidden from her.”
“Why don’t you ask her who’s taken the chalice?”
Jemeryl laughed. “If I get desperate, I just might. She could be a useful source of information. The downside is that she may spread rumours about me. I daren’t let her begin to suspect why I’m really in Ekranos. And I could tell she was dying to know who I was meeting today. I avoided her questions, but it can only be for a short time.”
“Will it cause problems if she finds out?”
“I shouldn’t think Vine personally will be bothered, but it won’t go down well with Bramell. The authorities aren’t keen on sorcerers getting emotionally involved with the ungifted. But he’ll learn about us sooner or later. If I’m secretive, it will seem as if I’m trying to hide something. Anyway, he can’t stop me. It counts as a private matter.”
“Just as long as they can’t stop us meeting.” Tevi spoke softly. “I’ve missed you.”
Jemeryl squeezed Tevi’s hand. “I know. Come on. You’ve got to get up early. Let’s go to our room.”
The squeak as their chairs were pushed back woke Klara, who ruffled her feathers, then hopped onto Tevi’s proffered wrist. Quietly, the two young women slipped out through the doorway at the rear of the bar.
Chapter Three—The Hunt Begins
Jemeryl rolled over, awakened by movement. The moon had long since set, but the outline of the window was visible. Dawn was not far off. She summoned a faint light globe, barely sufficient to rev
eal the room.
Tevi was sitting on the side of the bed, feeling for her discarded clothing. At the soft light, she glanced over her shoulder apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m due at the docks in an hour, but there’s no need for you to get up.”
“Yes, there is. I can sleep in tomorrow. This is our last chance to talk for days.” Jemeryl scrambled out of bed and began pulling on her clothes.
“I don’t know what there’ll be for breakfast.”
“Whatever it is will be all the better for eating it with you.”
Tevi laughed. “Now you’re trying to sweet-talk me.”
“Just keeping in practice.”
Nobody was about when they left their room, but a succession of loud snores issued from the common dormitory. The rasping bass followed them along the corridor and down the staircase. Jemeryl winced at the sound. Yet one more reason to be glad that her status meant she always got private accommodation at inns. Most folk had to share a room, and even a bed, with strangers.
The predawn air was chill in the open courtyard, and the stars were undimmed. However, a soft tinge stained the eastern skyline. The bar was dark and deserted when they entered. Shutters were closed, and chairs were stacked on tables. A band of light shone under the door to the kitchen. Jemeryl push it open and poked her head around.
In the light of an oil lamp, a boy was scrubbing the floor. Suds overflowed a large wooden pail. His clothes were as wet as the fistful of rags he was using and in only marginally better condition. At the squeak of the hinges, he sprung to his feet, futilely trying to dry his hands on his soaking apron. He backed away, wide-eyed.
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to ask, “You’re one of the ladies wanting early breakfast?”
“Yes, please.”
“Cook’s left the things out.”
No further information was forthcoming. In the end, Jemeryl gently prompted, “Where?”
“Oh, no. Sit down. I’ll bring it to you...ma’am.”
The Traitor and the Chalice Page 4