The Firemage's Vengeance

by Garrett Robinson

  To the shop’s rear was a small door of plain, unadorned wood. Upon this Adara tapped thrice, and then twice more after a pause. In a moment Ebon heard scuttling footsteps within, and then the door creaked open. Into view came a thin little man, wild grey hair sticking out in all directions, and though the day’s light waned, still he blinked at them as though a bright torch had been thrust into his eyes.

  “Little Adara,” he breathed. “Sky above, girl, but it is good to see you.”

  “And you, Aurel,” said Adara. She bent to give the wizened man a kiss upon the cheek. “Are we expected?”

  “I should say so,” said Aurel, shaking his head. He stepped inside, waving them after him. “Between this and all the goings-on before the attack, I will be amazed if my heart does not give out before its time.”

  Adara took Ebon’s hand and drew him inside. It took Ebon’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim. When they did, he saw a small sitting room with a stone floor, warmed by a hearth with a metal grate for a screen. A few feet from the hearth was a low, modest table with three stools. One of the stools was occupied. Aurel glanced at the figure who sat there, and then at Adara and Ebon, and then withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  The figure rose. He wore a cloak of plain brown, but its unremarkable color could not hide the fine weave of its cloth, nor the work of the expert hands that had sewn its hem. The cloak covered no armor, but there was a sword at his waist—a fine thing, not the plain blade of a soldier. He lifted his hands to throw back his hood. Well-tousled, sandy hair showed a few strands of grey, and his eyes were keen as they took in Adara and Ebon. There was something intensely familiar about him, but at first Ebon could not place it. Then he saw the brooch that pinned the cloak together. It bore the royal seal. A palace guard, he thought—but then the truth came to him, and his knees went weak. He let them collapse, falling to one knee and bowing his head.

  “Your … Your Grace,” he gasped, his throat a desert.

  Lord Prince Eamin, son of the High King and presumptive heir to the throne, took a step forwards and inclined his head. But Adara did not kneel, only gave a deep curtsey, and to Ebon’s shock, Eamin did not seem surprised in the least.

  “Well met, son. But come, and treat me no different than you would your friend Adara. Kneeling is all good for the ceremony of a throne room, but it seems a little grandiose for Aurel’s little parlor, would you not say?”

  Bright teeth flashed in a grin, and Ebon matched it without thinking. His heart stopped when Eamin held forth a hand. They clasped wrists, and the Lord Prince pulled him to his feet. Then, to Ebon’s growing wonder, Adara stepped forwards. She kissed one of Eamin’s cheeks, and then the other, the way an Idrisian greeted their close friend, or perhaps lover—though she had said that was not the case, he reminded himself.

  “Your Grace,” she said. “My heart is glad to see you again.”

  “My own mood is as I said it would be the last time I beheld you,” said Eamin. “Though I am pleased to be in your company, my thoughts are solemn, knowing you would not have called except at the utmost end of need. What troubles you, Adara?”

  “The same thing that troubles my friend here,” said Adara, inclining her head towards Ebon. On instinct, Ebon ducked his head. The Lord Prince could not have gotten a very good look at him beneath his hood, and if Adara did not wish to speak his name, he would not speak it either. He knew nothing of the Lord Prince’s politics, but would not be surprised to find that Eamin, like most of Underrealm, held no high opinion of the family Drayden.

  “Well? Speak on, son,” said Eamin. “We have all three of us wasted enough of a night that might be spent in merriment.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” said Ebon, bowing still further. His mind raced, wondering where to begin. “I … I imagine you know something of the Academy murders?”

  Eamin’s countenance darkened at once. “I do,” he said softly. “Though Her Grace was quick to send her guards to the citadel, I wish we could have done more, and done it more quickly as well. But the killer is dead now, or so they say.”

  “They say wrong,” said Ebon. “She is alive. I do not know how. But she is alive, and plotting further evil upon the Seat.”

  “A corpse was found in the Great Bay,” said Eamin, his frown deepening. “How can she be alive if we know where her body lies?”

  Ebon quailed, for he could hear impatience in the Lord Prince’s voice. But then Eamin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do not quiver so, son. You have not raised my ire—only if what you say is true, it is very troubling, and it has darkened my thoughts.”

  “It is true,” Ebon insisted. “I saw her—I, and some others. It was not long ago. And when the corpse was found, they said it had been dead for months. That cannot be. She is out there, somewhere, and has found a way to deceive us all. But no one will believe us, and so we can find no help to prove it. I only want to ferret her out of hiding before she attacks the Academy again.”

  Again Eamin paused, and then turned to stare into the fire. After a time he met Adara’s gaze.

  “Please, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Trust him in this.”

  Eamin looked to Ebon, and Ebon understood at once: Adara was in fact asking him to trust her. He thought the weight of her faith in him might press him into the stone floor. Slowly the Lord Prince nodded.

  “Very well,” he said. “I have some agents who may be trusted. I will have them search for Isra. If she is upon the Seat, they will find her—wherever she may be.”

  Hope quailed in Ebon’s breast. Mako had been saying much the same thing for weeks. But then he realized that this was not another promise from Mako—this was the Lord Prince.

  Then Eamin shook his shoulders, as though waking from a deep slumber, and his mood lightened. “But so simple a request is nothing, Adara. You must not consider my debt to you repaid. Do not hesitate to call upon me again.”

  Adara smiled. “A small deed from a busybody weighs heavier than a great deed from the lazy, they say.”

  “They are fools if they call you lazy,” said Eamin. “And speaking of which, I am sure the two of you have further business to attend tonight, as I do myself. If we may …?”

  He gestured, and they hastened towards the door together. Once in the alley, Eamin made to go in one direction, while Adara and Ebon headed in the other. But just before they all departed, Eamin stopped them with a raised hand, and started at Ebon beneath his hood.

  “It is good to see a Drayden on the side of right,” he said softly. “Such a thing is less common than one might hope.”

  Ebon swallowed hard. So Eamin had recognized him after all. He felt a fool for thinking he could conceal his face so well.

  “I hope my conduct may always please Your Grace so,” he murmured, and took a knee again.

  “Come now, I said there was no need for that,” said Eamin. “Stay your course, Drayden. Though not all your kin may feel the same, I think you do your name proud. Prouder than any since … he would have been your brother, would he not?”

  Everything went still. Ebon could not move a muscle—he even noticed that his mouth hung open, but he could not close it.

  “Momen was a good man,” said Eamin. “A great one, in fact, and high in the estimation of many across the nine kingdoms. Though I would not guess that your kin have told you so. He deserved better than what he got.”

  At last Ebon’s mouth worked, though just enough to croak, “Thank you, Your Grace. But how did you …?”

  Eamin smiled sadly. “Another time, I hope. Some tales are not worth telling if they cannot be told properly.”

  And then he was gone, vanishing through the gently falling snow.

  thirty-one

  EBON STAYED AT ADARA’S HOME as long as he could, but eventually made his way back to the Academy. The next day he muddled through his classes in a fog, still overawed about the Lord Prince. He half expected some royal messenger to appear at the Academy with new
s that Isra had been discovered, and that the threat was now over. But of course no such message came.

  Kalem saw something odd in his demeanor, and asked him about it. But Ebon did not wish to tell the story twice, and bid him wait for Theren. They saw no trace of her at breakfast, or at the midday meal. At first Ebon thought little of it, but when she had not appeared by the beginning of the afternoon’s studies, he began to grow worried. Together they conducted a quick search for her, looking through the dining hall and the hallways outside, and then even darting upstairs to seek her in the dormitories. But they found no trace of her, and so they went to the library—where they found Theren at last, waiting for them in their alcove. She was shaking, and to their surprise, she sat with Lilith.

  “Theren!” said Ebon. “We looked all over for you. What is wrong?”

  “I … they came for me,” said Theren. Lilith looked up in dismay, and Ebon saw that she was clutching one of Theren’s hand tightly in both of her own. “The Instructors, I mean. I was called to my instructor’s office—Nestor, I mean—and there I found the Dean, as well as some instructors of the other branches. They sat me down in a chair, and when I tried to resist, they forced me. Then they cast … some sort of spell upon me, though I know not what they did. I only saw their eyes glowing, and felt the itch on my skin where their magic probed me.”

  “Why?” said Ebon. “What were they looking for?”

  “I have just told you I do not know!” snapped Theren.

  But Kalem had blanched, and he sank heavily into one of the armchairs. “I know what they were doing,” he said. “They sought the mark of enchantment upon you.”

  A glance at Theren told Ebon she knew nothing more of Kalem’s words than he did. “What is the mark of enchantment?”

  “Do you remember when Theren searched for Lilith’s spellsight within the vaults? It is like that. A sort of trace left upon someone who uses a magical artifact. They sought for a sign that Theren had used an enchanted object.”

  “But why?” said Ebon. “Why Theren? Of course we know she carries the amulet, but how could they?” But then he froze where he stood. His eyes went to Lilith. They had not told her of Kekhit’s amulet.

  “Do not trouble yourself about that,” said Theren. “I have told Lilith about it already.”

  “You what?” said Kalem. He threw his hands up in the air. “Is there anyone left in the Academy who does not know?”

  Theren glared at him, and he wilted. “Save us from your dramatics. I trust her. But do you not see? Xain has grown suspicious that I have been using mindwyrd. Ebon showed the instructors that I have no magestone in my blood, but Xain knows that the amulet of Kekhit has been stolen. The faculty may once have thought that the amulet was in Isra’s possession, but now Xain suspects it is in mine.”

  Ebon slumped in his armchair. But then he had another thought, and he straightened once more. “But wait. Kalem, you told us that spellsight is wildly unreliable, and that no one would take its signature for evidence.”

  “So I did,” said Kalem. “And the mark of enchantment is even more inscrutable. But think, Ebon. Xain is desperate. His son is missing. Do you think he would withhold his hand from any method that might recover Erin? It is like we were when we were trying to prove Lilith was the Academy killer—meaning no offense, Lilith.”

  Lilith arched an eyebrow. “Of course. And you are correct—only Xain is more dangerous now than you were then, because his own blood is in danger, and because he has the power of the office of the Dean.”

  Theren looked at them with fear in her eyes. “But why did they not find the mark? I have—” She cast a quick glance about them to look for eavesdroppers, and then went on in a whisper. “I have been using the amulet, after all.”

  “I do not think the mark lasts for very long,” said Kalem. “It is days since we fought Isra in the grotto. The mark must have faded.”

  “Then I must get rid of it. Now, before they try again.”

  Ebon frowned. “Mayhap you are right. It seems too dangerous now. But what if Isra should reappear?”

  “I will be unable to stop her if I am in a Mystic prison with their knives digging into my skin,” snapped Theren. Lilith shuddered, and her hands crossed over her chest as she turned her gaze away. “I cannot carry it with me now, in any case. Why should I not be rid of it?”

  “What will you do?” said Kalem. “Will you leave it for the instructors to find? Do you not think that will raise suspicion, that it would reappear just after they investigated you?”

  “I will throw it into the Great Bay, and good riddance,” said Theren.

  To Ebon’s surprise, Lilith reached out and took Theren’s hand. Theren looked over after a moment, and Ebon saw the sadness in Lilith’s gaze as their eyes met.

  “You must keep it. Only a little longer. It cannot be long before we find her,” said Lilith.

  Kalem leaned forwards, focusing on Ebon. “To that end—what happened last night, Ebon? Was Adara able to help you?”

  For a moment Ebon hesitated, wondering if he should tell them—particularly Lilith—of the Lord Prince. But it seemed there was nothing for it, and soon he had spilled the whole of the tale. As soon as he told them of Eamin, they all went stone-still in their seats, and Ebon could see something very much like worship shining in Kalem’s eyes.

  “The Lord Prince,” he whispered in reverence.

  Even Theren’s panic seemed to have diminished somewhat. “These are the first glad tidings we have heard since the Academy murders first began.”

  “How?” said Kalem. “I mean, how could Adara … it would be impressive enough if she knew him as a client—that would make her a high courtesan indeed, and worthy of much honor. But outside of her business? What could possibly have brought the two of them together?”

  Theren scoffed. “You make it sound as though the Lord Prince is some coward who spends all his days cooped up in the palace. He has walked upon many roads, and fought in many battles both great and small. They could have met anywhere—and if she performed him some service, he would not forget it.”

  Ebon shrugged. “I do not know. I only know what she told me, and that was precious little.”

  But in his mind, he was wrestling with the same thought that had plagued him since their rendezvous the night before. Yes, it was astounding that Adara knew the Lord Prince, and especially on such terms. But more perturbing still was the fact that Mako knew of their relationship, if so it could be called. How could the bodyguard have learned that secret, if he had only known Adara for a short time?

  Mako’s ever-growing omniscience had grown beyond the bounds of unsettling, and was now close to terrifying. And yet still the man could not locate Isra upon the High King’s Seat.

  Where can she be?

  Lilith loosed a sigh and shifted in her seat. “This is most comforting. If the Lord Prince himself has joined the search, it cannot be very long before Isra is dug out of whatever dark corner she has hidden herself in.”

  “I am not so sure,” said Kalem, scowling as he put his chin on his fist. “After all, she has conjured her own corpse out of thin air. I would once have counted that impossible.”

  “Many things are impossible, until someone of industry carries them out,” said Mako.

  Ebon leapt out of his chair. Kalem tried to do the same, but tripped over his own feet and went crashing to the ground. Theren leapt up with her eyes aglow, and Lilith fought to stand, but her weakened limbs almost betrayed her. She opened her mouth to scream. Mako thrust one finger at her, and his face twisted in a scowl.

  “Keep your silence, and keep your life. Lose one, and lose the other.”

  “It is all right, Lilith,” said Theren quickly. She went to Lilith and put a hand on her arm. “He is no threat. Not now, and not here, at any rate.”

  “What is he doing in the library?” hissed Lilith. She looked around, and Ebon did the same, for it seemed impossible that no one else could see him. But no other students were
in sight, as if by chance—though of course Ebon knew that was by Mako’s design.

  “He comes and goes, it seems,” said Ebon, glaring at Mako. “What are you doing here, other than frightening us all half to death by appearing from nowhere?”

  “The little goldshitter is very flip for one who is sitting and taking council with a Yerrin,” growled Mako, who had not taken his furious eyes from Lilith. “But that discussion must be had another time, for matters of true import are afoot. I come with news of Gregor.”

  Ebon felt the blood drain from his face. Kalem and Theren went very still, and even Lilith gulped before lifting her chin and fixing Mako with a defiant look.

  “What of him?” said Ebon. “I thought the Mystics took him.”

  “They did not,” said Mako. “He killed them all. He has not yet managed to flee the Seat, but he is about to. Now, in fact. We must stop him.”

  “Asking for help again?” said Theren, smirking through her unease. “This is truly a time of wonders.”

  Mako sneered at her. “The dregs of my resources you may be, but dregs are better than an empty cup. Gregor has killed most of my agents already, and those who remain still bear grievous wounds. Isra is nowhere to be seen, but I need you to contend with a firemage at Gregor’s side.”

  “You mean an elementalist,” said Kalem at once. Then he froze.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, Mako turned his baleful glare upon the boy. Ebon thought Kalem would die upon the spot, the boy looked so terrified.

  “I am sorry,” he whimpered. “It was an accident.”

  Mako ignored him. “Girl,” he said, looking at Theren. “Go and fetch your amulet.”

  “No.”

  The bodyguard’s jaw twitched. “I did not ask you a question.”

  “Yet I gave you an answer. They are searching for it, and they already suspect me. Besides, you said Isra was not there.”

  “She was not when I left,” said Mako. “That does not mean she has not appeared since, or that Gregor is not making his way to her even now.”