Just as before, there was shouting from the witnesses, but this time it did not stop. It grew louder, and had an ugly undertone. This scandal was more than even the mijneers could countenance.
Ardhuin edged back, away from the increasingly angry crowd, but not before she saw Jan give the shocked, suddenly fearful judge a searing look of contempt. Time for her to contact the ambassador. She had a plan.
Markus Asgaya stepped off the train at Banhof Friedrichstrasse and heaved a sigh of relief. After experiencing weeks of Ostri imperial inefficiency, suspicion, and pompous arrogance, Preusan levels of government stupidity were barely noticeable. Even the stolid and unenthusiastic expression of the palace coachman sent to meet him was a welcome sight. Apparently the bad news contained in his last telegram had not caused too much official irritation with him.
Now he was back where he could finally do something useful. Markus reviewed the main points that needed to be covered when he reported, some too sensitive even for coded messages. The autopsy reports, for example. The Ostri Mage Guardian showed signs of being shackled for some time before his death—and multiple puncture wounds in his arms. It was not entirely a surprise, recalling how Dominic Kermarec had been bled for his presumed magical power when he was captured by Denais. Denais could have been extracting Kreuzen’s magical essence for months. Markus shuddered at the thought.
On a more positive note, he was bound to see Gutrune von Kitren. As one of the few entrusted with the full details of the current situation, it would be logical for her to be present to hear his report. And if for some tragic reason she was busy elsewhere at the time, it would not take much effort on his part to find her at the palace. Purely to make sure she had the most current information, of course. And if he chose to regale her with a few anecdotes of the comic incompetence of the Ostri officials that, regrettably, could not be part of his official report for diplomatic reasons, where was the harm in that?
Markus was shown to a room where the King himself was present, as well as a handful of his council. Gutrune was not there, but in her usual place, behind and to the left of the King, sat a man with a strong resemblance to her.
Concealing his surprise as best he could, Markus gave his report. It was received much as he had anticipated, i.e., not well, but at length the council members ran out of useful questions and were dismissed. The King indicated Markus was to remain.
“I wish to make you both known to one another.” He gestured at the man behind him and to Markus. “Heinrich von Kitren, formerly of our armed forces, will be serving me in his sister’s place. Markus Asgaya you have heard mentioned in the accounts concerning the Mage Guardians and Denais. During your absence,” he said to Markus, “I have received information that the Bretagne government has plans in action to get the Low Countries to name their Mage Guardian.”
Markus hoped his reaction to the first piece of news had not shown on his face. Replaced? But where was Gutrune? Then the rest of what the King had said registered. “Does this mean their Mage Guardian is assisting in this process?”
One royal eyebrow was raised. “I am sure the Bretagne government sees no need to direct the actions of the Low Countries in their decision.”
That meant yes. Markus stifled a grin.
The King stood and left the room, and von Kitren stiffly rose as well. Markus noticed he was using a cane.
“If you will permit, may I ask if Fräulein von Kitren enjoys her customary good health?” Markus asked, careful to appear nothing more than courteous.
That earned him a hard look and a grim expression. “When I last spoke with her, yes. But that was some weeks ago. While you were comfortably bored in Ostri, she has been sent to the wilds of Anatoli.”
Markus blinked, feeling stunned. “What? Why? Denais would hardly return there.”
Von Kitren studied his reaction, and some of his chilly demeanor diminished. “Indeed. Yet, there she is, or was at last report. It is also unclear to me why you were not sent there, and she to Ostri.”
“Unsurprisingly, His Majesty holds her in higher esteem than he does me,” Markus remarked with some asperity. “Have you ever had to deal with Ostri government bureaucracy? You can’t shoot them even when they deserve it. And if I may be blunt, I was under orders. It was hardly a matter of my preference. You were in the army, were you not? I should not have to explain this to you.”
Von Kitren flushed angrily. “It has not been so long for me to forget. But to see her placed in danger, when I am not allowed to serve because of my injuries, and then to hear that you…pray excuse me. I cannot be other than concerned.”
“Nothing is more natural,” Markus agreed cordially. “In a just world, your sister would have nothing less than a battalion to defend her and assist her in her duties. I feel constrained to point out, however, she would doubtless find them very much in her way and would manage to evade them entirely to go find trouble to involve herself in. I speak from experience,” he added dryly.
“And if I asked you to explain in more detail, would I regret it?” Von Kitren’s earlier hostility had all but vanished, replaced by resignation.
“Very likely. Perhaps it would relieve you to hear that she is quite capable of getting herself out of trouble as well.”
Von Kitren scowled. “I would be more relieved to hear she had some assistance in this extremely dangerous hunt.”
“I am in complete agreement. I will do what I can—now that my current mission is complete, I may be able to persuade them my help is needed there. Will you be willing to aid me in this?”
Von Kitren regarded him steadily him for a moment, then nodded.
The Bretagnan minister of magics finally emerged from the meeting room in the Hoegeyre, the government building of the Low Countries. He looked tired and irritable, but his expression cleared slightly when he saw Dominic waiting in the hallway outside.
“These brughers are beyond stubborn,” Louis Trégor muttered, walking quickly away. Dominic followed.
“Did they agree to choose Kreuwel?”
Trégor sighed. “Eventually. It was the threat of exposure that did it.” He gave a thin smile and lowered his voice. “Between hinting you were so shocked you were thinking of writing a story based on the tournament cheating and Hyeer Kreuwel’s righteous indignation, I was able to induce them to see reason. I promised to use my influence to dissuade you and suggested that the position of Mage Guardian might calm Hyeer Kreuwel from lodging an official complaint against the tournament for being deprived of his rightful prize. I may have hinted the responsibilities of the post would give him little time for disturbing the existing social strata of the Low Country mages,” he added blandly. “I understand he has accepted the position and has been told the Mage Guardian of Bretagne will consult with him shortly.”
“Well, that’s one good consequence of that mess. Will news of the cheating scandal get out, do you think?”
“None of the Low Country mages will spread it about, certainly. While it would be preferable to have no notice taken at all, I do not think we could have done the thing without the scandal. The suggestion to make use of it was a good one. Do you intend to remain long here?”
“At least long enough to get Hyeer Kreuwel started and to look over the previous Mage Guardian’s laboratory,” Dominic said. “We can begin this afternoon, if he is agreeable.”
“Good. A message will be sent. I concur that he is well suited to deal with both Preusa and Ostri, so I will return to Bretagne to put those negotiations in motion,” said Trégor. “My thanks to you both for this service. Her Majesty will be pleased.”
Dominic left the Hoegeyre, and walking briskly through the center of town, soon found Ardhuin in the lobby of their hotel, still in disguise. Both her real self and the illusion raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Success,” he said, grinning. “Your plan worked. Jan has been chosen.”
Ardhuin gestured, and the noise of the lobby faded. “Excellent. Serves everyone right.
And von Koller thought I was stubborn! It occurs to me, however, that even if we cover the essentials, Jan may need to visit us for further instruction. I never bothered to set up the house wards for magical guests; perhaps because I never thought to have guests of any kind. It will take some consideration.”
Intrigued, Dominic asked for additional details on the types of warding Ardhuin was thinking of, and they discussed the matter until a message was brought to them from Trégor indicating Jan would be pleased to meet with his colleague at Schulyer Colfax’s laboratory within the hour.
Dominic was quite eager to see the laboratory. Colfax was famous for magical devices, but Dominic had only seen the obscurer the Mage Guardians used for shielding conversations from eavesdropping.
“Will you need to take down the wards?” he asked.
Ardhuin shook her head. “There should be very little active magic present, save his devices. It has been over two years since his death.”
“What happened? Was Denais involved?”
“I suppose it is possible,” Ardhuin said dubiously, “but Schulyer Colfax was even older than my great–uncle. He had a stroke, and for some reason had not named an heir himself. Perhaps he thought there was no further need for the Mage Guardians.”
“Or perhaps he was prevented,” Dominic mused, feeling suddenly cold. “It would not take much for a geas to simply prevent him from doing so, would it? Denais might well feel old age would take care of the rest.”
Ardhuin was silent, a small frown on her face. “Perhaps, but…I would think that Colfax, having fought in the Mage War, would be watchful for any such attack.”
The laboratory was located on the grounds of a fortress, one of the few remaining Ringschluess that had survived the Mage War. It was a long, single–story brick building with few architectural ornaments besides a pair of large, arched windows near the entrance. A coach with a crest indicating royal business was waiting outside when they arrived.
“Hmm. I suppose they will object to your presence here either as a reporter or my wife,” Dominic observed. “How shall we manage this with discretion?”
“I will follow, and reveal myself inside.” Ardhuin gathered a thick cloud of avoidance and shadow about herself.
Dominic jumped down from the carriage. Jan was standing outside, looking bright–eyed and curious. “Ach, it is my good friend Kermarec! I am hearing there was involvement from Bretagne in this.”
“Shall we go inside? Your colleague will be here presently,” Dominic said. The official in the coach looked disapproving but said nothing. Dominic opened the door for Jan, leaving it open long enough for the dark cloud of Ardhuin to enter as well.
Inside was a dusty foyer, a few desks and chairs, and a single large metal door worked with a sigil Dominic vaguely recalled. As Ardhuin had predicted, there were only traces of magic visible from what must have been powerful wards.
“You are involved with these Guardians, I take it,” Jan observed, as he first tested the door, then opened it carefully.
“Rather intimately,” Dominic said wryly. “I am afraid there is a considerable need for secrecy, unfortunately. We apologize for the necessary deception.”
Now inside the workroom, Jan turned to give him a quizzical look. His eyes widened as Ardhuin dropped the cloud of shadow, and then he gaped when her illusion disappeared as well.
“Hyeer…Vrauwe…?”
“I am Ardhuin Kermarec, Mage Guardian of Bretagne. My great–uncle, Yves Morlais, was the mage Oron and Mage Guardian before me. Thank you for accepting this post. We are in grave need of your help.”
Jan continued to stare at her in stunned silence. He eventually managed to say, “Help? From me? And you were Mr. Talbot? And Kermarec, so you are also…” He glanced at Dominic.
“My wife, yes.”
“Please excuse, but there is much to think on all at once.” Jan looked about blindly, found a chair, and sat down with a thump. “First I learn of these Mage Guardians and that I am invited to join, and then Vrauwe Kermarec is one of these most powerful mages…and I am thought to be of such caliber?”
Ardhuin smiled, and Dominic was amused to see how Jan Kreuwel immediately sat up straight again.
“Yes, you are. I wish we could have done this differently, but matters are desperate. We are the only ones, and because I am…what I am, the other governments resist letting me advise them in selecting their own Mage Guardians. So you see, you are very much needed at present.”
Jan gave her a look of alarm. “Only myself, and you? Of…how many? What happened that replacements are needed everywhere?”
Ardhuin glanced about the workroom. “We should probably not discuss this without wards. Do you wish to set up your permanent wards now, or shall we use only defensive wards for the moment?”
Dominic had been examining the workroom too, wondering if any of the devices were powerful enough to interfere with casting wards, and a flash of power caught his eye. “One moment. What is that?”
It looked like a spiderweb of power, just a few strands, but enough to remind him of the webs that had been set near Peran by Denais’s agents. One end was anchored to a rafter above the center of the room, and the other…
The other end was shielded in shadow, flickering with magic, and held an oblong shape. The shape of a bullet.
“Dominic? What is wrong?” Ardhuin said, sounding alarmed.
“Don’t cast any wards,” he gasped. “There’s a trap. Just like the King’s assassination…” he pointed at the shadowed bullet. “It is aimed at whatever cuts the thread of power.”
Ardhuin’s face had gone white. “So whoever tried to use this laboratory again would be killed.”
With Jan’s assistance, Ardhuin set up powerful shields for each of them, then cast a stasis field around the bullet. While the stasis field cut the thread triggering the trap, it also prevented the bullet from going anywhere.
“You were not so surprised that such a thing would be here,” Jan said grimly.
Ardhuin shook her head and cast a powerful defensive ward around them. “Let me tell you about Denais.”
Dominic had feared Jan’s initial enthusiasm would vanish in the flood of bad news. While it was plain he was appalled at the danger, he grew more determined the more Ardhuin explained.
“This is a bad business,” Jan said at last. “There is much work to do, and you have been doing it all, hey? No more!” He nodded emphatically.
In the next several hours Dominic carefully scanned the entire workroom, pointing out every shred of remaining magic. They found two more traps and several devices, which Dominic piled on a table in the foyer. Ardhuin helped Jan set up his permanent wards and told him what was known about Denais.
“We stopped him in Preusa, but I am certain he had plots elsewhere,” she concluded.
“And here, I think,” Dominic added. “Those traps are fresh. Certainly more recent than two years, correct? Denais must have planned for the eventuality that someone would be named Mage Guardian here and would naturally come to this workshop to begin work.”
“Yes, and this is not a place many would need to come to,” Jan agreed. “In Preusa there were those inside the government that plotted with Denais, no? I fear this may also have happened here.”
Dominic took out his watch, grimacing at the time. “It is late. We should meet here tomorrow for the two of you to continue. Besides, I want to examine those devices more closely,” he added.
“Please take what you wish,” Jan invited him. “I am very much in your debt and will have little leisure for such things for some time,” he added, shaking his head.
Dominic accepted his offer with alacrity, selecting the three that most intrigued him, and with Ardhuin shielding herself in shadow again, they took their leave of Jan Kreuwel.
“I hope he does not regret his decision.” Ardhuin yawned sleepily in the carriage.
“We did give him much to think about,” Dominic agreed
ruefully. “I think he will rally in time. He appears to welcome a challenge.”
“Then he should be ecstatic,” Ardhuin said dryly. “Oh well, we did what the Queen asked of us. And Jan is much more diplomatic than I am. I can see him doing well finding the rest of the Mage Guardians, and then it will be easier for everybody. And we will make sure everyone understands the importance of naming an heir as soon as practicable.”
“I agree completely.” Dominic put his arm around her waist and kissed her. “And you should set an example, speaking of heirs…”
“There is no guarantee any of our children would have talent.” Ardhuin’s cheeks grew red. “And an heir would need to be able to replace me immediately. Even I did not show any ability until I was seven.”
“Very well, a temporary stopgap is permissible,” Dominic conceded, “but I am quite willing to make several attempts to find you a worthy successor—while hoping they will have many years before they will be at all required.”
“Such noble self–sacrifice,” Ardhuin teased. “I had thought your experiences with young children had not been tranquil, or had you forgotten? Didn’t some of your students set their house on fire?”
“Only a carpet. And that was before I made the acquaintance of an expert in magical wards,” Dominic pointed out. “All you have to do is stay ahead of their ability to remove wards, and the difficulty is trivial!”
The carriage pulled up before the hotel, and they wearily got out and made their way inside. The clerk at the desk looked up as they entered, looking worried.
“Madame, Monsieur…there is an urgent telegram for you.”
Dominic took the flimsy envelope and opened it, puzzled.
“Who would send a message here? The ambassador knew where we had gone…”
The telegram was uncoded, and from Bretagne. From Baranton. Please return soonest possbl incident related previous employer enemies H. Lebonne.
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