Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2)

by Martinez, Gama Ray

  “All this talking about politics almost makes me long for the times we were fighting an evil mage bent on releasing a nightmare demon.”

  Jez grinned. “Yeah, if only something like that would happen here. It would certainly make things more interesting.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Dinner, as it turned out, was still two hours away, but Sileon insisted they spend that time getting ready. He summoned an army of servants, seemingly from nowhere. When Jez asked about it, the stout man simply said that being a baron had its advantages. Jez took that to mean he was paying them a great deal of money.

  The servants helped him out of his clothes and into new ones, something he’d never really gotten used to. They ignored his assertions that the clothes he’d worn before the king were good enough. They even tried to comb his hair, which he’d allowed to grow a little longer in recent weeks. He managed to stop them from doing that, however, and he was glad for that small mercy. Every time Jez tried to speak with Osmund, Sileon cleared his throat, wordlessly instructing him to say nothing in front of the servants, as if Jez had any secrets to keep.

  Osmund stood by the door. Every once in a while, he would grumble something to one of the servants, and they would take a step back, stammering and pale faced. Sileon scowled, but Jez could tell his friend’s actions more out of boredom than any perceived threat to Jez.

  Finally, Sileon settled on a bright blue doublet with gold embroidery, leaving Jez to wonder who would think to weave gold into clothes. Like his previous outfit, it had lace at its neck, and Jez struggled to avoid scratching. Sileon ushered the servants out of the room. Getting dressed had taken almost the full two hours, and Sileon spent the next several minutes drilling Jez on the finer points of etiquette that might come up in a formal dinner. Eventually, a servant in the purple livery of the king came to lead them to the dining hall.

  The king was seated at the head of a table made of lacquered wood. The seat to his right was occupied by a tall pale skinned man with yellow hair. A whispered word from Sileon told Jez it was Lord Varin. Many of the other chairs were occupied by men and women wearing the same dark green as their lord. It seemed Varin had brought a dozen people with him. Three of Varin’s guards stood against one wall, next to those of the king. Jez motioned for Osmund to join them. Villia and her apprentice were also present, and her eyes kept wandering from Jez to Osmund. Her gaze made the hairs on the back of Jez’s neck stand on end.

  Only two seats sat empty, one at the king’s left, and one next to Varin, though as soon as Jez glanced at it, Varin glared at him. That seat must be reserved for someone else in Varin’s party. This time, Jez didn’t have to be told that he’d been insulted. He bowed deeply to the king and inclined his head to Varin. Propriety demanded that Varin, ranked much lower than Jez, rise to greet him, but instead, the lord just returned the gesture. Since there was nowhere for Sileon to sit, Jez waved toward the door. For a second, it looked like Sileon would object, but a glare from Jez sent him away. Jez would just have to make it through this dinner unaided.

  As soon as Jez sat down, a girl in a flowing green dress stepped into the room followed by a pair of guards. One was a bearded man with a crooked nose and the other was a raven haired woman with ice blue eyes. The noble they were guarding was a tall girl with pale skin and golden hair. Anger flashed in her eyes as she met Jez’s gaze, and his blood went cold. He realized why Osmund had thought he’d heard of Lord Varin. He was the father of Lina, a former student of the Academy who had almost gotten Osmund kicked out.

  Jez stared at her face, astonished that the supposedly unhealable scar that had once marred her cheek was completely gone. Quite deliberately, she turned away and eyed the guards lined up on the wall. When she saw Osmund, a gasp escaped her throat. Her face wavered and a red line appeared on her face, running from just beneath her right eye to the bottom of her chin. It had been hidden by an illusion. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Osmund turned away and mumbled something. Instantly, Lord Varin was at Lina’s side asking what was the matter. The king stared. Finally, she lifted her hand and pointed at Osmund.

  “It was him. He did this to me.”

  Lord Varin’s face twisted in rage, and he stormed up to Osmund. He looked like a child next to the large boy. “Is this true?”

  For a moment, Jez thought his friend would deny it, but Osmund closed his eyes and nodded. His voice was so quiet Jez barely heard it. “I’m sorry.”

  Varin turned to Haziel, his face red with fury. “I demand you arrest this monster.”

  Jez shot to his feet, but a glare from the king kept him silent. Haziel looked from Osmund to Jez. Finally, addressed Jez.

  “He is a commoner?”

  “Well yes, but—”

  “Guards! Take the baron’s body servant and throw him in the dungeon until we can decide how he is to be punished for assaulting a noble.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Jez stared at Osmund through the iron bars in the dungeon under Rumar Keep. The room was almost ridiculously small for his large form, and even sitting on the stone slab carved from the wall, the cell looked tiny. Torches lined the hall though they were spaced so far apart they barely provided any illumination at all. A musty smell hung in the air, and from somewhere in the darkness, Jez heard a scurrying sound accompanied by the squeaking of rats.

  “Osmund, why does this always happen to you?” Osmund’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. Jez eyed the bars. “Can’t you break out of here?”

  Osmund shrugged. “It’s warded, just like the cells under the Academy. I think I could still change.” He ran his fingers along the bars. “Ziary’s sword would cut right through these. Somehow, I don’t think that would be the best thing.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” a voice said from behind.

  Jez spun. For a moment, a ball of water appeared around his closed fist shedding, a soft blue light. The boy, a few years older than Jez himself took a step back, his eyes wide. It took Jez a second to recognize him as Villia’s apprentice. He searched his mind for the name, but it didn’t come. He lowered his hand and the water dripped to the floor. The boy took a step forward, his eyes locked on Jez’s hand.

  “Pulling water from there air?” His voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes were so wide Jez thought they would pop out of their sockets. “That’s incredible.”

  Jez shrugged. “I studied aqua magic at the Academy. It’s not exactly dry down here. I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  It looked like his face reddened, though in the darkness, Jez couldn’t be sure. The boy went to one knee, accidently wetting his robes in the water from Jez’s working.

  “Oh, forgive me, my lord. I am Sharim, Mage Villia’s apprentice.”

  “Sharim, please get up.” The boy did and started to brush off his robe. Apparently realizing it was useless, he gave up and inclined his head. Jez sighed. “What were you saying?”

  “Only that it would not be wise for your guard to try to escape. There are twice as many guards patrolling the dungeon than there normally would be. Out of respect for your position, they’re staying out of sight, but they’re here, and there are archers stationed at the end of the hall. Is it true that you’re both limaph?”

  For a few seconds, everything went silent except for the sound of rats scurrying in some unseen corner. Jez and Osmund exchanged glances. Osmund was one of the most powerful limaph in a thousand years. They had circulated the rumor that Jez was one as well as a way to explain the knowledge and power he’d gotten from Luntayary. Jez nodded slowly. Sharim’s eyes grew even wider.

  “He can transform?” Jez started to shake his head, but Sharim went on. “I overheard you. Ziary is his scion? Did he give Lady Lina that scar?”

  Jez glanced at Osmund who shrugged. Jez nodded. “It was an accident. He can’t really control Ziary.”

  That wasn’t exactly true anymore, but Sharim nodded in acceptance. “Can you transform too, Baron?”

  “No.”

&nbs
p; “They say that you—”

  “I didn’t,” Jez said. “Please, it’s not something I like talking about.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to offend. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to Mage Villia.”

  “What?”

  “Mage Villia. Oh, I’m sorry. I’m jumping around, aren’t I? It’s why I came down here. She was going to ask to speak to the two of you after dinner, but...” Sharim waved his hand at Osmund. “She still wants to see you, though, my lord.”

  “I don’t know,” Jez said. “I should probably see if Sileon has had any luck negotiating with Lord Varin.”

  “That’s the thing. Lord Varin is furious. I don’t think he will change his mind, but Mage Villia can intercede with the king on your behalf.”

  “And she’ll do that if I go talk to her?” Sharim nodded. Jez turned to Osmund and gave his friend a half smile. “Well, Sileon did say I needed to get allies at the court. I guess I could do worse than one of Haziel’s mages. I’ll be back.”

  Osmund nodded, and Jez turned to follow Sharim as the boy dashed up the stairs and back into the keep.

  CHAPTER 6

  Villia’s workshop took an entire floor near the top of the south tower. It was a round room twenty feet tall. A quarter of the wall was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. Tapestries and paintings covered the rest. A half-finished sculpture of a dog sat in the middle of the room. Its head had been carved with such detail, Jez half expected it to bark at him. Villia was seated at a nearby table. She was staring upward and didn’t look down as Jez and Sharim entered. A picture of the night sky had been painted on the ceiling. Jez stared at it for several seconds before he realized the stars were moving across the image.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  Jez jumped. Villia was staring at him, and he realized she had violet eyes. She was middle-aged and her purple robe seemed to shimmer and reflect the stars from above. Jez glanced back at the ceiling. The full moon was just coming into view at the western edge.

  “It’s an illusion?”

  Villia had a musical laugh. “Did you think I had transported the night sky onto my ceiling?”

  Jez found himself smiling. “No, I don’t guess I do. Sharim said you wanted to see me.”

  She turned to her apprentice. “You may go. Practice tactile illusions, and come to me in two hours for a lesson.”

  Sharim looked to Jez. “But...”

  “I said go. I need to speak with Mister Dusanson alone.”

  “Bartinson,” Jez said through clenched teeth. “My father’s name was Bartin.”

  “Forgive me.” She glared at her apprentice. Sharim bowed his head and disappeared down the stairs, and she looked back to Jez. “Please take a seat.”

  Jez sat down across from her. She stared at him for several seconds, and he slumped in his chair, uneasy under the weight of her examination. Finally, he broke the silence. “Sharim said you can help Osmund.”

  “Your bodyguard?”

  “Yes.”

  “I believe I can. Is he truly a limaph? One of a pure enough bloodline to transform?” Jez nodded. “And you?”

  “I can’t transform.”

  “You’re lying.” The frankness of the accusation caught him off guard. He blinked and struggled to find his words, but she raised her hand. “No, don’t bother denying it. You’re not a good enough liar to deceive me. Your friend’s scion is of the Darkhunters?” Jez gaped at her. “I don’t think any of the others could make a wound that wouldn’t heal. What about you?”

  “I...I don’t have a scion.” Jez struggled to keep his voice steady.

  Villia smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of revealing your secret to anyone else. Neither will Sharim. Tell me, when did you first learn you were a limaph?”

  Jez’s mind was racing. “In painting class.”

  “Really? I’d heard you bound a fear demon the day you arrived at the Academy.”

  Jez sputtered for a second. He hadn’t been expecting to be questioned like this and hadn’t come up with a good lie to give, so he settled on a partial truth. “Well yes, but I didn’t know what it meant then. It was only after my paining class that Osmund explained.”

  She got up and walked to a shelf that held several rolled papers. Jez eyed her as he tried to regain his composure. She pulled out one as long as her arm and brought it back to the table. The bottom fell out of Jez’s stomach as she unrolled it. The picture was a masterpiece. Against a background of stars, a purplish cloud had been painted that seemed to be expanding outward. Near the top, the cloud became a vaguely human form, and around its edges, seven robed figures stood garbed in all the colors of the rainbow. Their faces were the only spots in the entire painting that lacked any color. It was the picture Jez himself had painted when he’d first accessed Luntayary’s memories, before Sariel had sealed them off.

  Jez’s mouth had gone dry and it was several seconds before he moistened his mouth enough to speak. “Where did you get that?”

  “Master Kerag sent me a copy. It’s remarkable work. Do you know what this is?”

  He nodded. “It’s the creation of the universe.”

  “According to Master Kerag, you’re a skilled painter, but you haven’t created anything nearly on this level since your first day. Why is that?”

  Jez was so off balance by the questions that he could only shrug. “I don’t know.”

  Villia raised an eyebrow but didn’t accuse him of lying again. He had a feeling she knew though. He looked over his shoulder at the door, but she cleared her throat.

  “How much do you remember?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jez spoke almost too quickly, but the mage was looking into his eyes as he spoke. She pursed her lips and nodded. Jez took several deep breaths as he forced himself to calm down. Villia leaned back in her chair. The lights in the room had dimmed at some point, but now they brightened. Villia let out a breath. Jez’s thoughts were racing. He thought back and tried remember if he’d felt the characteristic listlessness that would indicate a telepathic intrusion, but Villia shook her head.

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t in your mind.”

  “You know when someone says that, it’s a pretty good sign they’re lying.”

  Villia chuckled, and the sound did nothing to calm him down. She was right though. Mind reading was complex magic, and very few could manage it. It was also considered a high crime if done without consent. He didn’t know if Villia had the ability, but even if she did, in his time at the Academy, he’d learned to build wards around his thoughts. Even if she was strong enough to break through, she wouldn’t be able to do it without him knowing. He felt his face heat up.

  “I take it I don’t have to continue to deny it?” He raised an eyebrow, and she smirked. “I don’t need to read your mind when your thoughts are written on your face.”

  “What do you want from me?” Jez asked.

  She waved at the painting. “I’ve already told you. I want to know how you were able to paint this while remembering nothing.”

  “It was instinct,” he said. “I was distracted and didn’t realize what I was painting. It just happened.”

  “And since then, you’ve remembered nothing?”

  “No.”

  “You’re lying again.”

  It didn’t catch him as much by surprise this time, and he tensed his muscles and nodded. Her eyes widened a little, and she drummed her fingers on the table. He scowled at her.

  “Yes, I am, but I don’t know you, and I don’t know if I should trust you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m the only one who can get your friend out of the dungeon.”

  “Why did the king make Dusan the Baron of Korand?”

  “Dusan was a powerful mage. With the Academy just outside the borders of Korand, it made sense to give it to him.”

  “Then, it was the king’s choice, not Dusan’s.”

  Villia gave him a level gaze before
letting out a breath and shaking her head. “No, when Ashab died without an heir, Dusan requested the title.”

  “And the king just gave it to him?”

  “Hardly ‘just’. Dusan gave up his lands north of Rumar to get it. They had a greater income, but the title was higher as the Baron of Korand. Many others would’ve made the same trade, given the chance.”

  “Didn’t anyone object?”

  “Oh, of course they did, but no one had as much influence, and the income his lands brought the crown was considerable.”

  Jez nodded. Assuming it was true, then Haziel had only been used by Dusan. If Villia was lying, however, then not only the king, but a powerful mage was his enemy. Still, if it could help...

  “If you can get Osmund out, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  She looked him in the eye for a long time. Her gaze made shivers run down his spine. The stars swirled above them for a few minutes before fading, leaving a plain stone ceiling. Villia nodded.

  “Lord Varin is insisting on a trial. I cannot prevent that.”

  “You said you could help.”

  She grinned. “Oh I can. I’m the one who will preside over the trail.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Jez clenched his teeth as Osmund walked into the chamber, flanked by a pair of guards. His hands were shackled, and the chains at his feet grated as he dragged them across the floor. He almost fell into the chair at the center of the room. On one side, a curved platform held a long, semicircular table. Villia was seated at the center, looking down at Osmund. The king sat at her right hand, and Jez at her left. Sileon was seated next to Jez. Lord Varin and his daughter sat next to the king. The illusion once again covered Lina’s scar. She looked away as soon as Osmund sat down.

  There were other chairs along the wall that held various minor nobles, though they went silent as Osmund sat. A man with a brown robe and a blue sash stood just inside the door, staring intently at the prisoner. Jez could feel the power flowing out of him and around Osmund, binding his power, though it wouldn’t be enough to stop Osmund from transforming. Jez wondered if the mage knew that. The king waved a hand at Villia.