Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 14

  Corrain wasn’t amused. ‘You want some introduction to Solura’s wizards. Believe me, the Order of Fornet wants no more to do with me, and I want no more to do with them.’

  ‘You underestimate Soluran interest in your most recent adventures,’ Den Dalderin said firmly. ‘You could trade what you know of the corsair isle’s fate for considerable goodwill among Solura’s wizards. Use that to serve Toremal and you’ll have the Emperor’s favour.’

  So much for vowing to have nothing more to do with wizards, Corrain reflected. They seemed inconveniently determined to have more to do with him. What was his best course of action?

  He folded his arms, challenging the young Tormalin noble. ‘Answer me one question and I’ll consider your offer. Who is this man from Wrede, if he’s not your lackey?’

  He’d seen the flicker of bemusement in Den Dalderin’s eyes when he’d mentioned the Ensaimin sniffing after him.

  ‘I don’t know who you mean.’ The Tormalin shook his head, apparently sincere. ‘I swear it by Saedrin’s keys.’

  ‘Find out who he is and what his interest in Halferan might be. Then we can talk further.’

  Corrain stepped around him. This time Den Dalderin let him go, as far as the door at least.

  ‘I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Lord Halferan.’

  Corrain didn’t look back, walking purposefully away. Vereor fell into step beside him.

  ‘By all that’s holy, what was that about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Corrain ground his teeth. ‘Trimon only knows what rumours will run round Ferl’s taprooms after those two girls have wept on their friends’ shoulders. Will you let me know the worst of it? Oh, and if you can turn this garbage into gold, do so and welcome.’

  He proffered the letter which had started this. Let people hereabouts learn a little of Baron Karpis’s true character.

  ‘I’ll write—’ Vereor seized his arm. ‘Over there. That’s the man who was asking after you.’

  ‘Where?’ Corrain searched the crowded street for anyone matching the old guardsman’s description of someone wholly unremarkable.

  ‘On the bay colt.’ Vereor nodded rather than alert the rider with a pointing hand.

  Corrain wished he’d pulled his hood up as they had left the inn. He could only casually turn his back as the man passed by. Whoever he was, they couldn’t follow him, not on foot. But Corrain would know him again, nonentity though he might be on that equally anonymous horse.

  ‘I can ask around to see where he went this morning,’ Vereor offered.

  ‘Let me know what you learn. I want to be on the road as soon as my men are mounted.’

  Corrain found this notion of Imperial interest in what he might know of wizardry in Hadrumal or Solura profoundly unsettling. Nearly as unsettling as discovering some unknown man from Wrede was dogging his footsteps from Duryea.

  Well, for the moment at least, he could hope that he had set one spy chasing the other. If the Tormalin Den Dalderin could tell him who the man from Wrede was, perhaps he could see how best to defend Halferan’s interests.

  He picked up the pace. The sooner he got back to The Shield Wall, the sooner he’d be on his way to Halferan. Though he didn’t relish trying to explain to Lady Zurenne that he had changed his mind about cutting all ties with the Archmage.

  Doubtless Planir would be interested to know that this Esquire Den Dalderin had sought an introduction to Solura’s wizards. In return, surely Corrain could ask Madam Jilseth to use her skills to discover if this man from Wrede was any threat to Lady Zurenne and her children.

  Once he knew that Halferan was safe on that score, then Corrain could be done with wizardry.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Trydek’s Hall, Hadrumal

  16th of Aft-Winter

  JILSETH ROUNDED THE turn of the spiral stair to see the door to the Archmage’s sitting room standing open.

  This chamber extended across the entire ancient tower. The broad table, usually accommodating some gathering of Planir’s personal pupils or a more formal meeting of Hadrumal’s eminent mages, was covered with books and scrolls. More were heaped on the window sills around the wide room. Some looked fresh from the bindery; others were so ancient that their dry calfskin was crumbling to powdery flakes. Some were tidily stacked while the rest sprawled open, piled on top of each other in haphazard fashion.

  Velindre and Mellitha must have brought the last of Kerrit’s personal library back from Relshaz while she was in Halferan. Though Jilseth wondered why the Archmage hadn’t turned this archive over to those wizards who so diligently curated the irreplaceable records of Hadrumal’s generations of learning.

  Planir sat on one of the upholstered settles on the far side of the room, wholly absorbed in the book he was reading. Jilseth could only hope that his wizard senses would alert him if an unguarded ember sprang from the glowing hearth to ignite the curled parchments covering the hearth rug.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Archmage? You wished to see me as soon as I returned from Halferan?’

  Marking his place with a ribbon, Planir closed his book. ‘Good afternoon, and how are our friends in Caladhria?’ He smiled. ‘Was the trip a pleasant diversion from your current frustrations?’

  ‘It was.’ Jilseth saw no point in trying to deceive the Archmage, though she hoped Merenel, Tornauld or Nolyen hadn’t seen how relieved she was to escape their nexus’s futile labours, when Planir had asked her to answer Zurenne’s unexpected summons on Corrain’s behalf.

  She crossed the room to sit opposite the Archmage. She was a little surprised to find this matching settle wasn’t covered with reading matter. Even the white raven pieces which usually stood ready for play on Planir’s gaming table had been stowed in their drawer, to clear the inlaid circle of the forest floor for a stack of ribbon-tied notes.

  ‘What did the noble Baron Halferan wish to discuss?’ Planir leaned back against his seat’s high cushioned back, easing his stiffened shoulders. ‘Have you learned why the delightful Widow Zurenne has been asking so many questions about Artifice?’

  ‘Do you recall the guardsman Hosh, the lad with the injured face? Lady Zurenne has it in mind that Artifice could heal him.’

  Planir rubbed the back of his neck. ‘As you told her last autumn. What’s prompted her to pursue the notion now?’

  ‘It seems that Corrain’s Forest-born ally, Kusint, has been telling her of Solura’s Houses of Sanctuary and their aetheric healing.’ Jilseth couldn’t help a wry grimace. ‘Now that Baron Halferan has returned and agreed, she wishes to seek healing for Hosh among any Soluran adepts who might be found in Col. She says that the voyage to Suthyfer would be too arduous for Hosh’s aged mother.’

  ‘The obvious answer is for his mother to stay at home,’ Planir remarked. ‘But I take it she really wishes to limit any further obligation to Hadrumal.’

  Jilseth nodded. ‘She merely asks you to provide a letter of recommendation to a mentor at Col’s university; someone suitably learned in Artifice who can introduce Hosh and his mother to a Soluran healer who will deal with them honestly.’

  ‘That’s easily done. Master Herion is best placed to help them. You could also offer to take the boy and his mother to Col.’ Planir reached for his book with a rueful expression. ‘Unless they insist on spending half a season travelling to prove to the Relshazri and Caladhria’s barons that Halferan has no undue dealings with wizards.’

  ‘I suspect that they will.’

  Jilseth remained seated. Planir looked at her, closing his book on the ribbon once again.

  ‘There is something more, Archmage. It seems that Corrain encountered a Tormalin nobleman on his journey back from Duryea. He is willing to relate the details in return for our assistance with another matter.’

  Planir grinned. ‘What can we do to reward him for telling us that the Sieur Den Dalderin has his minions trying to discover what we’re doing with our hoard of ensorcelled treasures while His Exalted Grace, Emperor Tadr
iol the Provident, does his best to pretend not to covet such access to wizardry for himself, along with half the mainland’s other nobles?’

  Jilseth couldn’t help a smile. She had half-expected that this would come as no news to Planir. But what of Corrain’s other concern?

  ‘Someone else is taking an undue interest in Halferan’s affairs. A merchant from Wrede was claiming to owe him money, by way of starting conversations in Ferl about where Corrain might be found and what he might be doing. Corrain assures me that there’s no such debt. He asks if we can find this man by magical means.’

  ‘Find this unknown man or find out about him?’ Planir queried.

  ‘Corrain merely wishes to know where he’s to be found. He intends making his own enquiries as to the man’s master and motives.’

  ‘By means of a fist to the face or something more subtle?’ mused Planir. ‘I wonder who this curious traveller is.’

  As the Archmage paused to ponder, Jilseth wondered what to make of the fact that Planir had no notion why a man from Wrede might be so interested in Corrain.

  ‘I believe—’

  Before the Archmage could continue, they both heard footsteps. Jilseth turned to see Mellitha and Velindre enter the room.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Planir welcomed the two magewomen. ‘How is Master Resnada?’

  ‘No one seems inclined to hold his association with Kerrit against him any longer.’ Mellitha smoothed jade green skirts and sat down beside Jilseth.

  ‘Not with temple guards still watching the house.’ Velindre chose not to sit, surveying the archive spread across the table. Like Mellitha she wore a cobalt woollen gown of Tormalin cut and styling. Jilseth was struck by how different the blonde magewoman looked not wearing Aldabreshin garb.

  ‘Not now that word has spread, reassuring the rabble that he has so bravely cleared the house of every last remnant of anything which could be considered tainted with wizardry,’ Mellitha observed sardonically. ‘I gather that such initiative has even won him congratulation in some quarters.’

  Whereas, in keeping with the sealed testament which Brother Tinoan had produced, Kerrit had bequeathed his house to his friend on the strict condition that all his books and papers were safely delivered to Hadrumal.

  Jilseth looked for Planir’s response but the Archmage’s thoughts had moved on. ‘What news do you have from the Archipelago?’

  ‘One of my few remaining friends was holding a letter from Kheda.’ Velindre reached into the pouch she wore on her tooled leather belt. ‘He’s finally reached the Khusro domain and that was no easy journey. He’s been looking since Solstice for someone with a Relshaz-hatched courier dove willing to let their bird carry an unknown cipher north to be passed on to my friend.’

  She unrolled the paper, fine as onionskin; it was no wider than her smallest finger was long and covered in impossibly tiny script.

  Jilseth was astonished. ‘How—?’

  ‘—could he write this without our spells?’ Velindre passed her hand over the paper to summon a shimmering image of nonsensical words. ‘You forget that the Aldabreshin have been stargazers for generations and their glassmakers are unmatched on the mainland. Their lenses for magnification are unequalled.’

  ‘What does he have to say?’ Planir demanded.

  ‘The Nahik domain is no more,’ Velindre said crisply. ‘Those islands are nameless. No one knows what’s become of Nahik Jarir himself but he’s assumed to be dead, by his own hand or some other. His wives have returned to the domains of their birth and resumed their former names. They have each taken their own children with them and for the present, sons and daughters alike have abandoned their father’s name.’

  ‘All of them?’ Mellitha queried. ‘Even those of an age of discretion?’

  ‘All of them,’ Velindre confirmed.

  Jilseth was curious to know the significance of this but concluded she could ask later.

  ‘What of the islands’ humbler inhabitants?’ Planir asked.

  Velindre read on. ‘Those who could get onto a ship have sailed for neighbouring waters, north to Khusro and Jagai or south to Miris and beyond. Most are surrendering themselves into slavery—’

  Jilseth couldn’t help an exclamation at this. ‘Why?’

  Velindre answered as though such incomprehensible behaviour was entirely reasonable. ‘It’s the only way to free themselves of the misfortune which has overwhelmed the Nahik domain. Their warlord’s errors of judgement have led every island and its inhabitants to disaster. Worse, the miasma of magic now hangs over them all. None of them can be trusted, or indeed, will trust themselves, to read even the simplest and most obvious omen aright, to guide their decisions from now on. Their only hope is to submit themselves to another’s power, yielding wholly to someone else making their choices for them.’

  ‘How are they being received?’ Planir asked urgently.

  ‘In kindly enough fashion in Khusro and Jagai. Miris Esul won’t let them settle. He insists that they continue southward to seek sanctuary.’

  Planir was cautiously relieved. ‘At least he’s not ordering their summary execution.’

  Jilseth shivered despite the warm fire as she recalled the slaughter of those Archipelagans who had escaped imprisonment by the Mandarkin mage only to discover their fellow Aldabreshi now deemed them too contaminated by magic to live.

  Mellitha gazed through one of the deep-silled windows as though she could see all the way to the Archipelago. ‘Is there any hint which warlord will move first to claim those masterless islands and their sea lanes?’

  ‘None of them, according to Kheda,’ Velindre told her.

  ‘They’re shunning the entire domain? Not just the westerly reach where we destroyed the corsair island?’ The Archmage’s brow furrowed with fresh unease.

  ‘What of trade northwards from the central Archipelago and the domains further south and west?’ Mellitha demanded.

  ‘Miris Esul is turning his back on everything north of his own waters.’ Velindre contemplated the script hanging in the air. ‘He argues that Archipelagans have no need of dealings with the mainland. That the Nahik domain’s devastation is proof beyond all doubt, of the folly of having any contact with the northern barbarians so irretrievably stained by magic. He has reiterated the absolute prohibition on wizards anywhere in the Archipelago and has commanded the immediate execution of any mageborn within his own domain.’

  ‘Has he closed his sea lanes to ships travelling north?’ Mellitha was growing more alarmed.

  ‘Not as yet.’ Velindre’s raised hand curbed the other magewoman’s relief. ‘It seems unlikely that he’ll need to. Kheda says that almost no vessels have sought the warlord’s permission to pass through the Miris domain and into formerly-Nahik waters. It took him six days to find a Khusro trader desperate enough to get home to risk it. Even then, the crew only agreed to sail the most perilous, easterly route and they carried no cargo, convinced that they would have to dump it overboard before being allowed into Jagai waters.’

  ‘It is midwinter,’ Mellitha countered. ‘For the moment, caution will doubtless outweigh all but the most urgent need to reach the Khusro or Jagai trading beaches. No galleys would be crossing to the mainland at this season regardless.’

  Planir leaned back, his eyes distant. ‘Are any vessels heading southward from the northernmost domains?’

  ‘No,’ Velindre answered, ‘though Kheda doesn’t know if that’s because Khusro Rina or Jagai Kalu have forbidden it, or because Miris Esul has sent word that they will be turned back as soon as they enter his waters.’

  ‘What will Khusro and Jagai do, if they find themselves cut off from the rest of the Archipelago? When they have the added burden of feeding and sheltering those fleeing from the Nahik islands?’ Planir shook his head, visibly perturbed. ‘Do we have any hope of further letters from Kheda?’

  ‘He may send them but I doubt I’ll be able to collect them,’ Velindre said curtly. ‘My friend asks me not to call again. If
I’m seen, he will be shunned.’

  ‘It seems that wizardry is now wholly unwelcome in Relshaz,’ Mellitha added. ‘The Magistracy’s undertaking to guard my house has proved entirely worthless. Everything which was left has been looted or despoiled.

  ‘When I sought an explanation, I was told that I had no right to expect any protection after my treason in issuing commands to a Watch detachment. If I return to Relshaz, I will be prosecuted for seeking to undermine the city’s sworn guards’ loyalty to the Magistracy. My voluntary exile has been taken for an admission of guilt. The Magistrates strongly recommend that I make my permanent exile public knowledge.’

  Jilseth saw ominous anger burning through the magewoman’s anguish.

  Planir narrowed his eyes. ‘Does the Magistracy imagine that I would see one of my most valued mages subject to their judgement?’

  ‘I don’t believe that they’re thinking at all,’ Velindre said frankly. ‘They’re running scared of Aldabreshi threats to their own livelihoods and to the city’s trade which feeds the people whose votes give them their power.’

  Planir looked at Mellitha. ‘What of your household? Have those we sent back to Relshaz been harassed?’

  ‘No, though of course, I have told them to say that they fled my service of their own free will.’

  Jilseth saw that the magewoman’s satisfaction at foiling such hostility was some slight balm for her wounded feelings.

  Velindre looked dour. ‘Every mage I knew in the city has left for Tormalin or Ensaimin or somewhere in between.’

  ‘A good number have turned up here.’ Planir nodded. ‘Well now, what do we suppose the Relshazri Magistrates will do if the Archipelagan galleys they’re so eager to appease don’t actually appear on the spring horizon?’

  ‘Do we think that’s likely?’ Mellitha clearly didn’t want to believe it.

  Velindre studied the ciphered message still floating in the air. ‘Miris Esul commands considerable respect among the other warlords, all of whom are shocked by the corsair isle’s destruction. As Kheda says, the Archipelago doesn’t need to trade with the mainland if they decide that living with their islands’ limited seams of iron ore and other metals is the lesser evil, compared to engaging with magic even at second hand.’