Luck in the Shadows n-1

by Lynn Flewelling

  Seregil laughed darkly. "If by polite you mean no bloodshed. The miners have been content with their situation for hundreds of years and are a hard lot to move. Still, if the mountain lords can be swayed against them, Kerry could be lost."

  "And who is leading these Plenimarans? What is their method?"

  "Crafty, as usual. It seems that nobody spoke to the same emissary, which means there were either several groups going among the various holdings, or they switched off leaders each time. I have the names, but I doubt they'll amount to much. As for their method, it was the old wishing mirror game."

  "The what?" Alec interjected, completely lost by now.

  Seregil grinned. "You've never heard the story of the wishing mirror?" You look into it to see your heart's desire. The Plenimarans send a spy or two in advance to sound out the situation, then the grand commander rides in with a great show of soldiers and a saddlebag full of empty promises based on the reports of his spies. Formio, for instance, was informed that the Overlord of Plenimar wishes to arrange a marriage for some distant niece, while old Warkill, whose lands sit at the headwaters of the Silverwind, was promised aid to take the lands clear to the edge of the Woldesoice. Mind you, our friend Mardus is down in Wolde soon after, promising to defend the mayor from just such an incursion.

  "I also had the good fortune to be captured by a gang of bandits east of Derila. Their leader happened to be fond of bards, so they decided to keep me on rather than slit my throat. They were a sloppy bunch and I managed to get away when I wanted to, but not before I learned that they'd been foolish enough to attack a party of Plenimarans only two weeks earlier. Instead of obliterating them, as the marines generally would if only for the practice, these blackguards enlisted the bandits to their cause, binding them with oaths, wine, and gold. They even went so far as to offer a bounty for any other freebooters they could bring in."

  "What a pack of mongrels they are leashing together up there!" Nysander exclaimed, none too pleased.

  "They will turn every little faction against its neighbor and let them cut each other to pieces."

  "Then march in to sweep up the spoils," added Seregil. "After Alec and I got free of Asengai, we met with Erisa and Micum in Wolde. She'd been along the coast as far as Syour and her news was much the same, including the foray toward the Fishless Sea. She's equally mystified.

  "According to her, Mardus stopped for a week at Sark Island on his way up the Osk to Blackwater Lake. I've never been there, but Micum says there's nothing but the ruins of an ancient trading colony. Hardly the thing to occupy someone like Mardus for a week."

  "And Micum?"

  "His news was the strangest of all. He'd been up around Ravensfell and reported a company of marines in full battle dress riding into the pass. Unless they're out to conquer whatever's left of the Hazadrielfaie, I can't imagine what they think they'll find except mountains and ice."

  Seregil paused, but Nysander simply motioned for him to continue. "That brings us to the mayor's

  banquet. Alec says he told you about our doings there, but there are a few details I'd better fill in."

  "Pertaining to the maps, I assume," said Nysander.

  "Yes. I found one in Mardus' campaign chest, quite ordinary, not hidden. Points on it had been marked at Wolde, Kerry, Sandir Point, Syour, and each of the mountain demesnes."

  "Rather tidy, that," Nysander remarked.

  "But even better, another map locked safely away in his dispatch box was marked with points at Sark Island, another somewhere north of Ravensfell, and one in the Blackwater Fens. The last one was circled. What do you make of that?"

  "Most intriguing," Nysander mused, stroking his beard.

  "Micum went back to the Fens after Boersby. He meant to head down here when he'd finished."

  "How long ago did you last see him?"

  "He left us at Boersby; let's see." Seregil thought for a moment, then shook his head impatiently. "Damn! I'm still muddled. Alec, how long has it been?"

  Alec counted back. "Just over two weeks now."

  "He should be with us soon, then," said Nysander, but something in his expression must have caught Seregil's eye.

  "What is it, Nysander?"

  "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Is that all you have to report?"

  "No. I believe those highwaymen who attacked us below Stock were Plenimaran agents. When we searched the bodies they just didn't have the right look to them. They had new weapons and clothing, all local, little money or possessions. It was as if they'd simply ridden into the Folcwine Forest and set up shop the day before. The whole situation didn't smell right."

  "I have had occasion in the past to trust your intuition."

  "There'd been a sudden rash of attacks on the caravans around Wolde just before the Plenimaran envoys showed up there," added Alec.

  Seregil nodded wryly. "Taken with everything else, it seems rather too much of a coincidence that these cutthroats should appear out of nowhere just in time to be run off by the able marines."

  "I see," mused Nysander. "Then you believe that Plenimar is providing a reason for the northern towns to seek an alliance?"

  "I do."

  "Anything else?"

  "Just this." Seregil pulled the neck of this nightshirt open and cocked his chin at the scar.

  Nysander went to the window and gazed out. "I fear I must beg your forbearance regarding that. This matter is not to be spoken of to anyone, at any time."

  There was no mistaking the finality in his voice.

  Seregil's brows drew together ominously over his grey eyes. "I just slept away the last two weeks because of this. Not to mention the madness that went before, or the nightmares and visions and the urge to kill just about every person I came within ten feet of, including Alec!"

  "You must be patient."

  "What is there to be patient about?" Seregil retorted. "I want to know who did this to me! Do you know or not?"

  Nysander sighed as he sat down in the embrasure of the window. "I should say that you did it to yourself, really. You took it upon yourself to steal the thing in the first place, and then to hang it about your neck. Not that I am chiding you, of course. I know that you took it on my behalf. Nevertheless, I—"

  "Don't go changing the subject. That's my trick!" Seregil interrupted hotly. "This is me you're talking to, not some provincial message carrier. What's going on?"

  Caught in the line of confrontation, Alec looked anxiously from one to the other. Seregil's lips were compressed into a thin, stubborn line, his eyes larger than ever in his haggard face as he glared up at the wizard. But Nysander met his friend's smoldering gaze calmly.

  "Seregil i Korit Solun Meringil Bokthersa," he said quietly, rolling the syllables as if they were a spell. "This is a matter which goes beyond any personal vengeance on your part. The mark you bear is a magical sigla, the meaning of which I am bound by the most dire oaths not to reveal."

  "Then why didn't you let Valerius take it off?"

  Nysander spread his hands resignedly. "You understand better than most the power of prescience. It felt unwise at the time to do so. Now that you are stronger, however, I shall cast an occultation over it."

  "But it will still be there," said Seregil uneasily.

  "I–I had strange dreams after Alec pulled the thing off, different than the nightmares before."

  Nysander rose to his feet in alarm. "By the Light, why did you not mention this before!"

  "I'm sorry. I only just now remembered, parts of them, anyway."

  Nysander sat down on the edge of the bed. "You must tell me what you can, then. By your oath as a Watcher—"

  "Yes, yes, I know!" snapped Seregil, rubbing at his eyelids in frustration. "Remembering—it's like trying to grasp a handful of eels. One second I remember a piece of something, then it just goes."

  "Nysander, he looks ill!" Alec whispered. The color had fled from Seregil's thin cheeks and a sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead.

  "I was terribly sick by the time
we reached the crossroads inn," Seregil continued hoarsely.

  "Alec, you had no idea. Everything had become so unreal. It was like being trapped in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. I don't know where in Mycena we were by then. The black creature had been dogging us since the day before. Alec couldn't see it, even when it touched him in the cart, and that scared me worse than anything I've ever encountered. Alec's told you how I attacked him that night, I know, but that's not how it seemed to me at the time, not at all! The thing was attacking me, or rather letting me attack it and sidestepping me. Alec must have come in during all that and I was too crazed to realize. Gods, I could just as easily have killed him—"

  "It was magic, dear boy, evil magic,"

  Nysander said softly.

  Seregil shivered and ran a hand back through his hair.

  "After I collapsed, I kept dreaming I was on a barren plain. I couldn't move except to turn and there was only the wind and grey grass. I was alone. I thought at first that I was dead."

  Alec watched him with rising concern. Seregil was whiter than ever, and his breathing was and labored, as if it took all his strength to keep speaking. Alec glanced anxiously at Nysander, but the wizard's attention was fixed on Seregil.

  "After a while, there was someone else there," Seregil said, eyes squeezed tightly shut, one hand raised to his face as if to ward off a blow.

  "I can't remember who, just—gold. And eyes, something about eyes—" His chest was heaving now and Alec placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "Blue," Seregil gasped, "something so blue— " With a hollow groan, he fainted back onto the pillow.

  "Seregil! Seregil, can you hear me?" cried Nysander, feeling for the pulse at his throat.

  "What's happening?" cried Alec.

  "I am not certain. A vision of some sort, perhaps, or some overwhelming memory. Fetch a cloth, and the water pitcher."

  Seregil's eyes fluttered open again as Alec bathed his temples with a cool cloth.

  "You must not try to go on," Nysander warned, stroking Seregil's brow. "You were speaking gibberish just now, as if something was disordering your thoughts even as you tried to voice them."

  "Could it have been that black creature again, here!" asked Alec.

  "I would have sensed such a presence," Nysander assured him. "No, it was as if the memories themselves induced some mental confusion. How very interesting. Can you speak now. dear boy?"

  "Yes," Seregil rasped, passing a hand over his eyes.

  "Rest, then, and think no more of these things for now. I have heard enough." Rising, Nysander went to the door.

  "Well I haven't!" Seregil struggled up on one elbow. "Not nearly enough! What's happening to me?"

  Alec thought he caught a look of pain on Nysander's face.

  "Trust me in this, dear boy," the wizard said. "I must meditate on what we have learned so far. Rest and heal. Shall I send Wethis for some food?"

  Alec braced for another outburst, but Seregil merely looked away, shaking his head. He busied himself with the fire for a moment after Nysander had gone, then pulled the chair up beside the bed. "That black creature you fought with," he began, fidgeting with the hem of one sleeve. "It really was there in the cart, wasn't it? And in the room with us at the inn. It was real." Seregil shivered, staring past him at the fire. "Real enough for me. I think you saved both our lives when you yanked that bit of wood from my neck."

  "But that was an accident! What if I hadn't?"

  Seregil looked up at him for a moment, then shrugged. "But you did, and here we are, safe and sound. Luck in the shadows, Alec; you don't question it, you just give thanks and pray it doesn't run out!"

  In the deepest hours of the night, Nysander lifted the wooden disk from its container. The chamber around him vibrated with the thickly woven spells he had invoked in preparation for the examination. Turning the disk this way and that with a pair of forceps, he tried to gauge the quiescent power of the thing. Despite its ordinary appearance, he could feel the energy emanating from it as clearly as waves lapping against his skin.

  Heart heavy with foreboding, he sealed the thing away again and pocketed it, then set off for the vaults beneath the Orлska House to take his nightly constitutional.

  18 Around the Ring

  Alec watched in dismay, if not surprise, as Seregil struggled out of bed the next morning.

  "Valerius wouldn't like this."

  "Then it's lucky for us he's not here, eh?" Seregil winked, hoping the boy didn't notice how wobbly his legs still were. "Besides, there's nothing more beneficial than a good bath. Just let me lean on you a bit and I'll be fine."

  With Alec's grudging assistance, Seregil worked his way slowly down to the baths without mishap.

  Winded but triumphant, he let a bath servant assist him into his tub while Alec stationed himself on a nearby bench.

  "Illior's Light, but it's wonderful to be back in a civilized city!" Seregil chortled, immersing himself up to the chin in the steaming water.

  "I've never met anyone who takes as many baths as you do," the boy grumbled.

  "A good soak might improve your disposition," Seregil teased, wondering at the boy's brittleness this morning. He had an edge of anxiety that hadn't been there before, not even during the difficult journey through Mycena.

  "For the love of Illior, Alec, relax! No one's here to see." He swirled the water with his toe. "I think we could do with a walk outside next."

  "You barely made it down here," Alec pointed out hopelessly.

  "Where's your curiosity today? You've been living in the center of the greatest collection of wizardry in the world for almost a week and you've hardly seen a thing!"

  "I'm more concerned just now with what Valerius would say if he knew you were wandering around all over the place. I'm supposed to be responsible for you, you know."

  "No one is responsible for me except me," Seregil jabbed a soapy finger in the air for emphasis. "Nysander knows that, Micum knows that. Even Valerius knows it. Now you know."

  To his considerable surprise, Alec stared at him for a moment, then turned on his heel and stalked abruptly away to stare out over the central pool, his back rigid as a blade.

  "What is it?" Seregil called after him, genuinely mystified.

  Alec muttered something, punctuating the remark with a sharp wave of his hand.

  "What? I can't hear you over the fountains."

  Alec half turned, arms locked across his chest. "I said I was responsible enough for you while you were sick!"

  And I'm a blind fool! Seregil berated himself, the crux of the problem finally dawning on him. Struggling out of the tub, he threw on a towel and went to the boy.

  "I owe you a tremendous debt," he said, studying Alec's grim profile. "With all that's happened, I guess I haven't thanked you properly."

  "I'm not asking for any thanks."

  "But you deserve it nonetheless. And I'm sorry if I insulted you just now. It's just that I don't think in terms of expecting anything of anyone."

  Alec turned a bleak eye on him. "That's not what Micum said. He said you demand loyalty and never forgive anyone who betrays you."

  "Well-yes. But that's hardly the same thing, is it?"

  Color flared in the boy's fair cheeks. "All I know is that I have been loyal and if you don't need me around anymore, then what the hell am I doing in Rhнminee anyway?"

  "Who said I don't want you around?" Seregil shot back in exasperation.

  "No one. Not exactly. It's just that ever since we got here, I mean since the ship—with the wizards and healers and—" Alec faltered to a halt. "I don't know, I guess I just don't feel like I belong here."

  "Of course you do!" Seregil sputtered. "Who's been saying you don't? Thero! That whey-faced son of a bitch—"

  "Thero didn't say anything." A gravid pause strung out between them, growing increasingly more uncomfortable.

  "I never could carry on an argument naked," Seregil said at last, pulling a wry face. This elicited a grud
ging hint of a smile, at least.

  "If you figure out what you're so mad about, let me know. In the meantime, let's go across to the museum. I promised to show you wonders, and that's as good a place as any to find them."

  Revived by the bath and fresh clothes, Seregil had Alec help him across the atrium to the opposite archway.

  "The vaults under this building are overflowing with treasures of one sort or another," he expounded, still leaning on Alec's arm. "I used to go down there with Nysander and Magyana all the time. You wouldn't believe how much is squirreled away right under our feet."

  Opening the huge door of the museum room, Alec let out a low whistle.

  The vaulted central chamber of the Orлska Museum was similar in dimensions to the baths. Here, however, every wall was hung with rich tapestries and paintings, shields, and pieces of armor.

  Suspended overhead was the skeleton of some horrific creature fifty feet long; the bare teeth jutting from the jawbones were as long as his forearm.

  Wooden cases of all sizes, many covered with sheets of thick crystal, lined the walls and stood in neatly spaced rows across the room. In the one closest to them lay a collection of jeweled ornaments and vessels. The one next to it contained a golden coronet studded with rubies. Another was devoted to wizardly paraphernalia.

  "How do you like it?" Seregil whispered, grinning at the boy's child's open-mouthed wonder. Alec made no reply as he slowly made his way from case to case, looking like a thirsty man who just found an unexpected spring.

  The room was very quiet, but not unoccupied. A group of scholars were there examining a tapestry. Nearby, a girl in apprentice robes sat on a high stool next to one of the cases, working with wax tablet and stylus at copying a passage from an open book displayed there.

  Across the room, two scarlet-clad servants were in the process of replacing some items in a crystal case.

  "I used to spend a good deal of time here," Seregil told Alec softly. "I've even managed to add a few pieces to the collection over the years. This, for instance."

  Steering him to a case near the center pf the room, Seregil pointed to a delicate flower carved from translucent pink stone.