by Jack Massa
“I agree,” Glyssa said. “I sensed Amlina relax as soon as the Mage appeared.”
“That is fine,” Karrol answered. “I am hopeful. I’m especially hopeful that we get a chance to bathe soon and then some dinner.”
The avenue sloped down to the river, which flowed gently and shone with witchlight under the overcast sky. To the west stood a tall onyx tower, with its mate looming across the water on the opposite bank—the magical Onyx Gates. The party followed a winding path through a park on the riverside. At length, they arrived at a mansion with pink walls, bronze parapets, and high pagoda roofs beyond. Gates embossed with gold emblems of the sun and moons swung open as the chariot approached.
Entering a brick courtyard, they were welcomed by servants and attendants and observed by a detachment of the blue-armored guards. Grooms took charge of the chariot, and Melevarry ushered her guests inside. She offered them the choice of taking refreshments or going immediately to apartments where they could rest. Amlina conveyed her thanks. Knowing the Iruks’ fondness for bathing, she asked if a visit to the mansion’s bathhouse might be arranged as the first stop. Melevarry gave the order to her steward then withdrew, promising to dine with Amlina and her party in the early evening.
Presently, the travelers were relaxing in tubs of warm, scented water. Servants took their clothing to be laundered. The Iruks insisted on keeping their weapons close at hand, as Amlina did with the Cloak. They enjoyed the baths for nearly an hour, sipping tea and munching on rice cakes spread with honey. After toweling off, they dressed in fresh garments that the steward provided—silk shirts, quilted jackets and trousers, along with soft slippers. The Iruks laughed and joked about the unfamiliar, luxurious costumes. Eben and his mates were now enjoying themselves.
Amlina was dressed in a clean witch’s robe, and a maidservant combed and pinned up her hair. From her solemn expression and the dark circles under her eyes, Eben realized how tired and strained Amlina must be.
From the bathhouse, they were conducted across a garden to the main building of the mansion. This was a huge square structure with balconies at many levels. They climbed a grand staircase and then a series of smaller stairs, arriving finally at their quarters. The apartment was spacious, carpeted, and hung with tapestries. A furnished hall and library room gave access to six bed chambers with large featherbeds. A terrace afforded a splendid view of the river and the vast city stretching far below.
Amlina shut herself in one of the bedrooms and spent the rest of the daylight hours in meditation. Eben, Kizier, and the others occupied themselves with enjoying the luxurious accommodations and discussing what might happen next.
At sunset a servant came and summoned them to dinner. Amlina appeared, having put on the silver and black Cloak. But on her word, the Iruks left their weapons behind. They followed the attendant up another set of stairs to a banquet chamber near the top of the mansion.
The room shone with tinted yellow lanterns and a crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling. Aromas of roasted fowl and spices floated on the air. The Mage of Randoon sat in a high-backed chair, flanked by three other women. Scanning these seated guests, Eben nearly stumbled as he recognized Trippany, the winged lady.
He had thought of her often since last seeing her in the hills beyond Fleevanport, wondering if she had been wounded or slain by the Larthangan crossbows before she could disappear in her flash of light. Now, as her eyes met his startled gaze, her narrow lips bent up in an amused smile.
Melevarry was welcoming Amlina’s party and gesturing to the empty chairs. She introduced the two witches as her apprentices, Yensia Meltai and Wenpheenae Chon. “And I believe you have already met Trippany Besu Keli, of the drell people.”
Eben had maneuvered his way to the seat facing the drell. Her gaze remained locked on his as he sat down.
“I am happy to see you have arrived safely,” she said in Tathian.
Eben grinned and replied carefully in Larthangan. “I am pleased that you are … safe—not injured.”
Her face evinced delight. “You are learning Larthangan! How lovely. Yes, I am well now. I was wounded, but the healers at the House of the Deepmind restored me.”
“That is fine—good,” Eben said, wishing his command of the language was better. Encountering the drell was so unexpected, in a pleasant way. She looked so lovely in her silver and blue witch’s robe, the delicate wings rising behind her shoulders.
In the corner, a young man sat on a tall stool and strummed gently on a lute.
“How is it that we find you here?” Eben asked the drell. “I thought I might have seen you, once or twice, flying behind our boat as we crossed the sea.”
Her smile showed small, pointed teeth. “Why yes, I tracked your crossing. Once I had been cured of my wounds, I was assigned to find and keep watch on Amlina. I was stationed here with the Mage of Randoon, to make my flights shorter, do you see?”
“Yes, I see.”
Waiters appeared carrying trays and covered dishes. The party dined on roast duckling and rice and platters of sweet fruits Eben had never seen before. The Iruks devoured large portions with relish, and downed many cups of the sweet plum and berry wines. Amlina and the other witches ate abstemiously, and exchanged conversations that, so far as Eben could tell, amounted to little of importance.
When the dishes had been cleared away, Melevarry rose and made a formal speech. She welcomed Amlina and her party and praised them for returning the Cloak of the Two Winds to Larthang. She said something Eben did not quite follow about arrangements for transporting the Cloak up the river.
More fruit and wine were served. Melevarry asked all the guests to relax and enjoy themselves, then invited Amlina to walk with her out to the balcony. Glyssa talked with two of the Mage’s assistant witches, with Kizier joining the conversation and acting as interpreter. The rest of the Iruks helped themselves to more wine.
Eben, who had drunk four cups already, felt both lightheaded and emboldened. He stepped around the table and touched Trippany on the arm.
“I wanted to say again how happy … I am very happy to see you,” he said, starting in his minimal Larthangan and ending up in Tathian.
The drell looked surprised, her dark eyes kindling. “I am also happy to see you, Eben,” she ventured in Tathian. “You and your people … I find interesting.”
“Do you indeed? Well, we have no wings but …” He trailed off, embarrassed by how stupid that sounded.
She laughed. “No. You have no wings. You are not like my people, nor at all like the Larthangans. But you are strong and brave, and have been honorable friends to Amlina, I think.”
“Oh yes. She is klarn—I mean, one of our crew. We are very loyal to our friends.”
Her eyes were staring into his.
“I would like to be your friend,” he added.
Smiling, she bowed her head, then surprised him by allowing her finger to caress his hand.
“I think I might like that as well. But for now, I will bid you good night.” Her wings hummed to life, and she rose into the air. Then she surprised him again, bending near and kissing his cheek before fluttering from the room with a merry laugh.
Grizna the peach-colored moon hung nearly full, rising over the sea. From the high balcony Amlina observed the city, sprawling to her left, lit by moonlight and sealight nearly bright as day. The Onyx Towers stood guard on each shore of the river, the gates protecting the Golden Land.
“A lovely view, is it not?” Melevarry said.
“Very lovely. But you did not ask me out here to admire the scenery.”
The Mage of Randoon scrutinized her for some time before replying. “That is correct. Now that you are rested and fed, I need to discuss matters with you.”
This time Amlina allowed the silence to linger.
Melevarry showed a half-smile. “I must confess, Amlina. I really did not know what to expect of you. And now that I’ve observed you for half a day
, I am still not sure what to think. You deport yourself as a schooled witch of Larthang, to be sure. But there is also a wildness about you—almost akin to the spirit of your barbarian friends. And yet, again, you lack their obvious vigor, your physicality is almost fragile …”
“Is there something in particular I can answer, my lady?”
“Ah, but can I believe anything you say? You see my dilemma.”
“No, not exactly.”
“Well, let me review what we know of you. A young witch from a western province studies at the Academy. She shows promise both as a pure shaper and especially at the art of trinketing. However, she fails her fourth-year examinations. Rather than stay for more study and to try again, she leaves Minhang, goes into exile. The next anyone hears of her is eight years later, on the far side of the world. She has reportedly become apprenticed to the self-proclaimed Archimage of the East, the most reviled renegade witch of our age—one who is known to practice evil arts and forbidden sorceries. However, this apprentice somehow slays the Archimage and recovers treasures she stole from Larthang a century ago. Then, rather than returning them to Minhang, the apprentice goes into hiding … ”
“I always meant to return the Cloak and the scrolls to Minhang,” Amlina said. “I was delayed by illness.”
Melevarry appraised her through narrowed eyes. “We shall leave that for the moment. Our envoy reported that, once cornered, you swore on your honor to bring the Cloak to the House of the Deepmind, and now, indeed, you have come back to Larthang. The Scrolls of Eglemarde, as you may know, are valuable mainly for historical purposes. Most believe their magic has long been duplicated by other means. The Cloak, in contrast, is vitally important. Because it was woven at the time of the casting of Eglemarde’s Second Ensorcellment, the power it contains can never be matched.”
“So I understand.”
“Yes. As I was saying, you have indeed brought the Cloak back to Larthang. Now you claim your intention is to present it to the Archimage. What will you demand in return?”
Amlina let her gaze wander to the high, pale circle of the moon. “Once I deliver the Cloak and the scrolls, I will be in no position to demand anything. But there are two boons I will request. One is for magical help to heal my illness—which I have not been able to overcome.”
“I see. And the other?”
Amlina swallowed, knowing her second request would sound outrageous, but forcing herself to go on. “Assuming my health can be fully restored, I would ask to be considered for the post of Keeper of the Cloak.”
Melevarry’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, you are certainly not without ambition.”
Amlina compressed her lips. “Indeed, I have often thought I am prone to exaggerated ideas about myself. But, exaggerated or not, they have driven me to … meaningful accomplishments.” She lifted her arms indicating the Cloak that she wore.
“So they have.” The Mage of Randoon considered. She set back her shoulders and placed her hands in her sleeves. “Tomorrow, I will make arrangements for my personal barge to take you and your friends up the river. You will be greeted in Minhang with great ceremony, I am sure. There you can present the treasures into the hands of our greatly honored Archimage, and make your requests to her in person.”
Amlina nodded. “I thank you, my lady. I could ask for no more.”
“Then I bid you good night, Amlina, and consign you to a deep and restful sleep.”
Twelve
She floated in darkness, lost, an ache at the back of her skull …
How long? Had she placed herself in deep trance, the dark immersion? She could not remember …
Something tugged at her shoulder. The shaking became more insistent. Her eyes sprang open, vision blurry. She was staring into faces … Lonn, Glyssa.
“Amlina, you must wake up,” Glyssa said. “We’re in trouble.”
They helped her to sit up. She had been lying on a stone floor. Looking around, she saw Kizier and the other Iruks. They stood or knelt in near-darkness. Shafts of dim light slanted though the grate of a prison cell door.
Amlina clutched her aching head, pulling at her memory. After leaving the feast hall, they had returned to their apartment. The Iruks, having brought pitchers of wine, sat drinking and talking in the outer hall. Exhausted, Amlina had crept off to bed. She recalled feeling dizzy, nauseous. She had shrugged off the Cloak and collapsed on the bed, still wearing her other garments …
Had she been drugged, or simply succumbed to an enchantment?
“Amlina, wake up!” Lonn shook her shoulder. “We are imprisoned.”
“The Mage betrayed us,” Draven said. “We were drugged or else witched. We woke up here.”
“And without our weapons!” Karrol growled. “We have to get out of here.”
Lonn and Draven took Amlina’s arms and helped her to stand. As her eyes adjusted, she could just see the extent of the cell, a dozen feet square—a dungeon somewhere underground. The chilly air smelled wet and moldy.
“We found this beside the door.” Eben handed her a parchment. “It looks to have writing on it, but it’s too dark for Kizier to make it out.”
As soon as Amlina’s fingers touched the sheet, the writing kindled into tiny flames—Larthangan ideograms, intended for her alone.
Honored Amlina
I am sorry that I must incarcerate you and your companions. While I perceive nobility in you, in my judgment you are too unstable to entrust with so powerful an object as the Cloak. These are unsettled times in Larthang, and my duty compels me to ensure that the Cloak reaches the Archimage. Once it is safely on its way upriver, you and your friends will be released.
- Melevarry, Mage of Randoon
Amlina sank to her knees, the parchment slipping from her grasp. Scarlet rage swelled inside her—directed not at Melevarry, but at herself. She had failed, utterly failed to foresee the trap. How stupid and naïve she had been, to fall for the Mage’s pretence of friendship, to believe that the Witches of Larthang would welcome her back, honor her for what she had accomplished. From far away she heard a strangled moan and realized it was herself. Her whole body was convulsing.
“Amlina.” Glyssa gently pressed her shoulder.
Draven was holding her other arm. “Amlina, you must stop this! We need your help.”
Sobbing, she flung herself into Draven’s arms, shuddering now not with rage but hopeless weeping.
“Well, this is a fine time for her to come unstrung,” Karrol grumbled.
“Be quiet,” Draven barked.
“Stop it,” Lonn said. “Let’s not fight among ourselves.”
“It’s all right.” Draven stroked the witch’s hair. “Your mates are here with you.”
Amlina’s chest heaved. “I am sorry. I have led you into danger and treachery, and it’s all been for nothing. Nothing.”
“You have to help us get out of here,” Draven said.
The witch blinked, shook her head. “No. It doesn’t matter. The Mage’s letter says we’ll be released as soon as she sends the Cloak on to Minhang.”
“But how can you trust her?” Lonn said.
“I’m afraid he is right,” Kizier added. “The Mage has demonstrated that she cannot be trusted.”
Amlina had not even considered that. Melevarry had lied to her once, perhaps she was lying still. Perhaps Melevarry was secretly allied with the Iron Bloc or some other cabal and meant to hand the Cloak over to them. If that were the case, Amlina and her friends might be imprisoned indefinitely—perhaps even executed.
Her mates needed her help to get out of here. Amlina sniffled and climbed to her feet. By her own vanity and weakness, she had led them into this trap. She would not fail them again—not if she could help it.
“You are right,” she said. “We have to find a way out.”
She felt inside her robes, touched her hair. No dagger, no rings or trinkets. Even her moonstone fillet had been taken. She walked over and examined the door: solid iron, no handle on the inside,
thick iron grate at eye-level, small trap door near the floor to allow food to be passed inside.
The Iruks hovered behind her. Amlina sighed, shut her eyes, probed with her deepsight. Strong hinges on the outside allowed the door to swing outward. Across from the hinges, three iron bolts, old and slightly rusted …
“Glyssa, come help me.” Amlina held out her hand. Glyssa stepped beside her, and their fingers intertwined.
“I perceive three bolts on the right side.”
Glyssa shut her eyes. Presently, she replied: “Yes, I see them.”
“We will move the top one first,” Amlina said.
Amlina lifted her free hand, two fingers pointing. She envisioned the top bolt and sent force to move it. She perceived the stream of Glyssa’s thought, moving in concert with her own. The bolt resisted their efforts.
Then suddenly it gave and slid aside. Amlina and Glyssa nodded to each other and went to work on the middle bolt.
Within a few minutes, they had pried all three bolts lose. At the witch’s word, Lonn and Karrol set their shoulders to the door and shoved. With a loud groan, it pushed open.
Amlina followed them out of the cell. They stood in a stone passageway, utterly quiet except for their breathing. Widely spaced lanterns in iron brackets cast the only light. The passage extended some distance in both directions, ending in corridors set at right angles.
“Which way?” Draven asked.
Amlina shook her head. Closing her eyes, she consulted her intuition. The indication was plain. She set off to the left, Kizier and the Iruks following on her heels.
After only a few steps, the witch jerked to a halt in response to a violent, shrieking noise. At first, she thought a cell door was crashing open. Then she realized that below the lamp directly ahead of her, the wall itself had broken. A figure stepped from the fracture, an iron warrior, seven feet tall and armed with a truncheon. Raising its weapon, it turned and stalked toward them, moving with a slow, menacing grace.