Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  “I will.” Kester picked the locks quickly, with no interruptions this time.

  While he was working on that, Arrow turned her attention to the other prisoner. Even with her sight enhanced, she could barely make out a bundle of cloth that might have been a person at the very back of the last cell next to the wall.

  “What are you looking at?” Seivella was beside her, free of her cage. “Here,” she held out her wrist with the cuff, “get this off.”

  “That will take time,” Arrow replied absently, the better part of her attention on the person in the other cell.

  “There is nothing there,” Seivella snapped, temper fraying.

  “Can you open the door?” Arrow asked Kester. He was frowning slightly, too, staring at the same spot as Arrow had been.

  “It does not look as though there is anything there,” he objected.

  “Arrow, we do not have time. There is nothing there. Let us go.” Evellan’s voice was impatient.

  “In a moment,” she promised, opening her second sight and drawing in a sharp breath. No wonder they could not see anything and all wanted to leave. There was a powerful keep-away spell set around the other prisoner, and if Arrow had not already seen through it in the shadow world, she did not think she would have noticed the extra spell work amongst all the wards in the dungeons.

  “Svegraen,” Arrow spoke to Kester, silver brightening her own eyes, adding a touch of power to her voice, just enough to call his attention, “will you open this door for me?”

  “Of course, mage.”

  Kester opened the door, clearly still puzzled by why she wanted into an unoccupied cell. She called a little more power and sent a spark of light into the cell ahead of her, just enough to prove, to her own eyes at least, that there was someone in there.

  As she walked forward a fizz of magic against her skin told her she had stepped through the threshold of the concealment spell, the trace of magic tantalisingly familiar. The same magic user who had created the slender blade of mage fire that had killed Teresea.

  With the breaking of the concealment came sounds of disbelief behind her.

  “There was someone there all along?” Evellan sounded disturbed. “How did we not see that?”

  “Concealment spell,” Arrow told him briefly, over her shoulder, all her attention on the figure lying on the bench. A male, she thought, lying on his side with his back towards her. Alive, as his body was shifting slightly as his ribcage moved, faint rasp of breathing carrying to her over the soft sounds of her own footfalls.

  “He may be dangerous,” Kester said just by her ear.

  She jumped, letting out an undignified squeak of surprise. She had not heard him move.

  Perhaps woken by Arrow’s cry, the prisoner stirred. He tensed, then slowly turned onto his back, then sat up, feet moving to the floor, movements careful.

  An elderly Erith male, his now-tangled and filthy hair pure white, pale eyes carrying the faintest trace of amber, he stared up at them with no recognition in his face, not making any further move.

  “Noverian,” Kester hissed, astonished.

  “Who is that?” the Erith male asked, eyes staring straight ahead. Not pale eyes, Arrow realised, but blind eyes. She had never heard that the Consort was blind, but trusted Kester to know him.

  “Kester,” he answered, “with Arrow, Evellan and Seivella.”

  “Arrow? Oh, yes.” The male’s head tilted. “Alisemea’s child. How do you do, child?”

  “Well enough, my lord,” Arrow answered. In the midst of the shock of finding the Consort here, her mind tried to remember what the proper address was for the Consort and failed to provide an answer. She hoped she had been polite enough.

  “We should go.” Seivella hissed from a short distance behind them.

  “Yes,” Kester agreed, going forward to Noverian. “Can you stand? Walk?”

  “I am … not sure. They have not fed me for days.”

  “And injured you before then.” Kester’s voice was grim and Arrow realised that the Consort’s clothing might be dark now, but had not all started off that way. His sleeves were mismatched, one paler than the other. Kester got Noverian’s uninjured arm across his shoulders and lifted the Consort to his feet, an involuntary noise from Noverian betraying how badly he was hurt. Seen upright, the Consort was a middle-height Erith male, once broad shouldered, now dangerously thin.

  “We need to go back the way we came.” Arrow’s legs were heavy as she followed Kester and the Consort out of the cell. She looked at the four other people she needed to take with her through the shadows and realised she did not have the energy. A quick search of her pockets and she found a healing potion, hesitating a moment before swallowing it herself.

  “That would have helped Noverian,” Seivella hissed at her, “or Evellan. What were you thinking?”

  “Travelling the shadow realm takes a lot of energy,” Kester answered unexpectedly, “particularly with more people. Are you ready?” This last was directed at Arrow. She pulled the cell door closed behind them, and after a moment’s thought, put a spark of her own power into the concealment spell, reviving it.

  She moved towards the centre of the dungeon and stepped on something metal that clattered, unnaturally loudly, against the floor. The attacker’s knife. Its blade glistened oddly to her sight.

  “The guards are coming back,” Kester said urgently.

  “Go. Take Noverian and go,” Evellan urged, “he is more important.”

  “But-”

  “Go,” Seivella agreed grimly, moving forward with Evellan to stand shoulder to shoulder, facing the corridor. Their cell doors were still open, the knife at their feet.

  “We will come back for you as soon as we can,” Arrow promised. Kester grabbed her shoulder, put Noverian’s limp hand on her arm, and she opened the fissure, dragging them through with an effort that made her gasp.

  Safe in the shadows, she closed the fissure and glanced back to find four guards surrounding Evellan and Seivella. It looked like the Academy masters were being attacked. She made a low noise in her throat, stepping forward, held back by Kester’s grip on her shoulder.

  “Noverian first. They are both tougher than they look.” His voice was the lowest whisper he could manage.

  Arrow knew he was right, but had to force herself to stay still while one of the masters, Seivella she thought, was beaten to the ground, landing next to a small mass of tangled spellwork that she thought might be the knife. One of the guards picked up the knife. There was a short discussion, evident by the positioning of the guards’ bodies, before Evellan and Seivella were gathered up and put back in their cells. Two guards remained. Two left, heading up the stairs.

  Kester nudged Arrow forward, eyes intent on the departing guards. A useful diversion, Arrow realised, as they would be opening the doors anyway. She made herself move forward.

  They made it out of the dungeons with less fuss than they had entered, travelling back to the annex as swiftly as possible, arriving back in the first world to find every one of Kallish’s cadre on high alert, Orlis with battle magic to his hands, cries of discovery and alarm following their arrival as Arrow collapsed onto the floor, Noverian only remaining half-upright with Kester’s help.

  ~

  Amid the babble of questions that followed their arrival, Noverian was settled on the chaise which Arrow had recently used, and the entire junior third were sent to the kitchens.

  Arrow lay on the floor for a few moments, letting the fuss happen above her, watching as Orlis changed seamlessly from battle magic to healing magic, kneeling by the Consort, face reflecting his concern.

  “Are you alright?” Kallish asked.

  Arrow blinked, looking up at the cadre leader. She judged that if she said she was alright, there would be an almighty lecture. If she said she was not alright, there would still be the lecture. She sat up carefully, head spinning slightly, and nodded once.

  “At least you took Kester with you,” Kallish said,
startling Arrow into looking up again. The warrior’s mouth twitched in a tiny smile. “And are not injured. This time.”

  “This time,” Arrow agreed, getting to her feet, and promptly making her way over to the dining table, settling on a chair. Her whole body was weak, legs trembling. “I do not think I will be going into the shadows again for a while.” She rested her head on her hands, elbows on the table, hoping that the world would settle down and stop spinning.

  “Perhaps this is the after effect of two doses of poison?” Kallish asked. Her voice was politely enquiring, the bite in the words only evident from the glint in her eyes when Arrow glanced up.

  After that quick glance, Arrow stayed silent. The warriors settled to guarding the room, a pair at each entrance, and two more behind Noverian.

  “He has been badly beaten,” Orlis said, sitting back on his heels. He was chalk-white, whatever benefit he might have had from sleep washed away, blue-tinged circles under his eyes. “And malnourished. Some broth, if there is any available.”

  “Where did you find him?” Kallish wanted to know.

  “In the dungeons. Behind a concealment spell.” Kester’s voice was grim. “He said he had not been fed for days.”

  “He can hear you.” Noverian’s voice was thready. Arrow lifted her head in surprise. She had thought he would be asleep under Orlis’ healing magic.

  “Highness.” Kallish took a step towards him and made a low bow.

  Noverian managed to sit up and open his eyes. He looked worse in the better light of the annex, Arrow noted, with the clear trace of old bruises across his face, crusted blood on one sleeve. He was breathing too fast, still, chest rising and falling under filthy clothing. Clothing that had once been as fine as any courtier would wear.

  “How is Frey?” he asked, staring ahead with his sightless eyes.

  “She seems well,” Kester answered.

  “Seems?”

  “She attended the reception for Seggerat the other night and spent some time talking with various courtiers and paid tribute to Seggerat. Beyond that she has not been seen in public for some time.” Kester’s tone was matter of fact, a warrior delivering a report.

  “Seggerat is dead? How?”

  “Murdered.” Arrow matched Kester’s matter of fact tone, ignoring the startled gasp from a few of the warriors, watching Noverian’s face. She had a notion that the Erith Consort was tougher than they were giving him credit for. He had been at the centre of Court politics as long as the Queen, after all. Her guess was proved as he closed his eyes, murmuring a quiet blessing, then opened his eyes again, expression determined.

  “Who?”

  “We are trying to find out. Among other things.” Arrow felt her shoulders slump. Gilean’s disappearance. Teresea’s death. The mysterious attacker with his null clothing. Seggerat’s death from a previously used spell. She sat back in her chair and became aware of the weight of one pocket. The null clothing, that she had managed to tear off.

  She pulled the sleeve out into the light. In the first world it was bland, easily overlooked. There was a pale shirtsleeve underneath.

  “You took that from the attacker?” Kallish crossed to her with quick strides. “Did you see him?”

  “Very little. A hand and forearm. Pale skin. And a scar across the back of his hand.” Arrow demonstrated on her own hand. “The right hand. His clothing was finely made.” After a lifetime among the Erith, who valued appearance, she had noticed the quality of his clothing as automatically as she checked her own wards.

  “How many Erith are scarred?” Kester asked. It was not an idle question, Arrow knew. Erith healed quickly and well, and even if they did not, Erith healers could cure almost anything without leaving a trace. Any Erith who bore scars might do so by choice, or because they had been gravely injured far from care. Or because they had been damaged by magic. She straightened in her chair at that thought.

  “It could have been a burn from mage fire.”

  “That narrows the possibilities.” Kallish looked grim. “I have sent for Miach. He will know candidates.”

  “Miach? Here?” Kester objected.

  “Not my guards?” Noverian asked, puzzled frown crossing his brow. Orlis had come back to his side with a shallow bowl of broth. Somehow the Consort maintained his dignity, half-lying on a chaise being fed broth like an invalid.

  “Your guards did not notice your absence,” Kallish answered. Noverian paused in drinking the broth, then nodded once, accepting Kallish’s judgement.

  CHAPTER 18

  The wards of the building flared, bringing Arrow to her feet and weapons out into the hands of every warrior. Moments later the front door shook with a series of heavy knocks.

  Without waiting for orders, Xeveran and his third went to the door, Kallish’s third closing around Noverian, the final third staying back, spread out in the room, every warrior on high alert.

  Arrow murmured the spell for mage fire, calling crackling silver power to her hands and found Kester nearby, blades ready.

  After the briefest look outside, Xeveran sheathed his sword, waved his third to one side, and opened the door, standing silhouetted against the early morning light, vulnerable to whoever was outside.

  “About time. What in hells is going on?” Elias stamped through the door, not waiting for an invitation. He was alone, dressed for combat, a longbow slung across his body, quiver of arrows at his shoulder. “Those on watch are talking nonsense and I cannot …” His words died as he glanced into the dining room. He swallowed whatever he had been about to say and made a bow. “Highness, we have been concerned about you.”

  “What is happening?” Noverian asked, worry in his voice.

  “The Palace watch will not let me through. The doors are shut.” Elias’ tone was grim. The leader of the Queen’s second cadre had been banned from the building. Arrow’s fingers twitched even as she drew the mage fire back into herself. But Elias was not done yet. “The dungeon guard are claiming that Evellan and Seivella tried to escape to assassinate the Queen. Something about a poisoned knife. Why are they here? Why are they locked up?”

  “That is not good,” Kallish commented.

  Arrow took a step forward, drawing Elias’ attention.

  “Have you just returned from the farm?”

  “Yes. It took an age to go through everything and then there was nothing of interest there.” The warrior sounded thoroughly disgusted. “I sent the others to rest while I reported to Miach. Or tried to. No one would answer a straight question. What has happened?”

  “Seggerat was murdered,” Arrow began. Elias made an impatient noise.

  “I know that. The cunning fox would never allow himself to die in his sleep. What else?”

  “Evellan and Seivella were summoned in the Queen’s name, then taken to the dungeons when they got here. Again in the Queen’s name.”

  “The lady would not order that,” Elias said definitely, with no hesitation.

  “Well, they seem to believe it is possible.” Arrow’s voice held a snap she heard too late.

  “You have spoken with them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get past the guards?” Elias asked, curious.

  “Another time.” Arrow waved the question aside. “We were attacked in the dungeons. The attacker dropped a knife and fled past the guards. We found the Consort in a cell in the dungeon.”

  Elias had moved to stand inside the room as she spoke, mouth half-open, face reflecting his shock.

  “The lord was in the dungeon?” His voice was high with disbelief.

  “Yes.” Noverian stirred, sitting up straighter. “It was most uncomfortable. Elias, where is Frey?”

  “I do not know. I could not get through the Palace.” Elias’ astonishment was replaced by concern.

  “We need to find her.” Noverian tried to get up, held back by Orlis’ hand on his shoulder.

  “My lord, you need to rest,” the journeyman said firmly.

  “Let us
go. Elias, can you get your cadre?” Kallish asked.

  “In moments,” he confirmed.

  “Do so. Quickly.” Kallish turned her back on him, taking his compliance for granted, and hesitated for a heartbeat before issuing orders to her own cadre. Xeveran’s third and the junior third would remain with Noverian and Orlis in the annex, on high alert. She and her third would go with Arrow and Kester, and Elias’ cadre, to the Palace to see what was going on.

  “I can call another cadre,” Elias offered.

  Kallish considered the offer a moment.

  “No,” Arrow said, surprising everyone, including herself. Instinct had made her speak, her mind catching up a moment later with the reasons. “The Consort’s guards did not notice he was missing and the dungeon guards let the attacker past, then accused Evellan and Seivella of plotting murder.”

  “Agreed.”

  Arrangements made, Kallish led her group to the front door and out into the morning, tensing a moment as she spied a cadre of White Guard coming towards the building at a full sprint.

  “Elias’ cadre,” she told Arrow as she relaxed, then shot a hard look at Arrow.

  “I know. Stay within your guard. I am getting very tired of people trying to kill me.” Arrow sighed and checked that her coat was fastened, wishing she had time to get some more supplies from her bag. She had a few bits of chalk in her pockets but nothing else. Even as she thought that a gentle pulse of magic at her back reminded her of the sword she carried. As they walked towards the Palace buildings, she wondered when she had grown so used to the sword’s presence that she no longer noticed it moment-to-moment. Wondered, too, if a sword made to cut through spirit could harm an attacker cloaked in null cloth.

  Elias had been telling the truth. The Palace doors were shut, a third of White Guard barring the way, visibly tense as they saw a full cadre and another third approaching.

  “The Palace is in lockdown,” the third’s leader said. Not high enough ranked to stand against either Elias or Kallish on any other day, Arrow saw, the braids on his sleeves barely enough to lead the third. She gave him credit for following orders, though.