Assassin's Edge Read online

  Kemish Dosin stood before the court of his own volition to meet the repeated accusations made by his neighbour Rumek Starn that he, Dosin, is in the habit of sailing with pirates. Dosin is resident in Savorgan, a man of no formal skills, having given up his apprenticeship as a joiner some years since. His former master will supply him with no character. Witnesses presented agreed that Dosin occasionally works as a labourer on river barges but deny that he has ever sailed on an ocean vessel. Harbour Masters at Kalaven, Blacklith and Zyoutessela find no record of him on any ship’s muster. Starn could bring no evidence beyond his unsupported accusation. Dosin called on the owner of the Black Rat tavern to confirm Starn’s considerable gaming debts to Dosin. The accusation is accordingly dismissed and an exaction of twenty-five Crowns is to be paid by Starn to the shrine of Raeponin in Savorgan no later than Solstice. Should he forfeit, he will be committed to the pillory for the duration of the festival.

  Fulme Astar, lately apothecary of Tannat stood before the court at the insistence of the Sieur Den Sacoriz, that these rolls may record his abjuration of the Empire in its present bounds. Den Sacoriz would otherwise require explanation of Astar’s presence on the pirate vessel Dogcockle, taken on the 7th For-Autumn by ships of Den Hefeken after witnessing an unprovoked assault on the Inglis merchant vessel Petrel. The court accepts that while the crew were taken in blood and duly hanged from their yardarm, there is no evidence that Astar participated in the raid. Den Hefeken’s shipmaster was therefore correct to return him to Den Sacoriz’s justice as an erstwhile tenant of that House. Extensive enquiry has found no evidence to support Astar’s contention that he was kidnapped off the street in Tannat by pirates to provide them with medical assistance. He was not restrained aboard ship; there is no evidence that he was ill-treated or coerced. Den Sacoriz’s Sergeant at Arms also bore witness that Astar’s wife has made numerous complaints to the Watch that he was using both her and her children violently. Enquiries into the death of one child from a surfeit of laudanum have not yet been satisfactorily concluded. Astar undertakes to leave Tormalin lands before the turn of this present season with no more possessions than he can carry in his two hands and with only the clothes on his back. The court accepts this plea and will not pursue him further. Should he return, his life is forfeit and any who takes it may apply to Den Sacoriz for the appropriate bounty.

  Vithrancel, Kellarin,

  20th of Aft-Spring

  Get every piece exactly where you want it before making your crucial move.” I moved my apple thrush across Temar’s expensive game board to force Allin’s white raven away from the safety of the little marble trees. An agate screech owl blocked the sanctuary of a thicket figurine and hooded crows lay in wait beyond. We were playing at the table in D’Alsennin’s residence. Everyone else was busy about preparations for the expedition Temar was insisting on. Ryshad and Halice had grudgingly agreed, since neither could get their own way.

  Allin sighed. “Naldeth was so nice to me when I first went to Hadrumal, him and his brother. Do you think I should bespeak Gedart?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I’m sure ’Sar will give him the news.” He might have done but that wasn’t my concern. I didn’t want Allin exhausting herself, not when she was our only wizardly resource. I’d seen Shiv and Usara leave themselves virtually senseless by too much elemental exertion and the lass had spent most of yesterday scrying to help Vaspret draw up a detailed map of Suthyfer. Halice had been almost unbearably smug when Allin had found a fourth pirate ship, even if it was only a gaff-rigged single master.

  Allin studied the game board without any sign she saw the opening I’d left her. “Seeing that man beaten…” She shuddered.

  “Half naked and someone’s prisoner is no fun,” I agreed. I knew that for cold, hard fact. “But they’re fed and the weather can only get warmer. And Saedrin grant it won’t be for too much longer.”

  Allin nodded but was still looking wretched when Guinalle opened the door from the tiled lane. “Where’s Halice?”

  “Talking to the copper miners.” I nodded in the direction of the reception hall. “With Temar and Rysh. They shouldn’t be too much longer.” They were debating how many men to bring down from Edisgesset without leaving the mines at risk of some revolt by the Elietimm captives there.

  “Has Halice got all her mercenaries together?” Guinalle demanded.

  I nodded. “Me and Halice have been convincing Deglain and all his pals that whatever crafts they’ve been polishing up, they’re still under her command.” Over the course of a few long evenings in the taproom. Ryshad had been in bed by the time I got back last night and gone before I’d woken this morning.

  “I had Peyt come tell me his men reckon their hire ends at the shores of Kellarin.” Guinalle’s mouth pinched with disapproval. “He says he’s not going to Suthyfer.”

  “Halice will convince him he’s mistaken,” I assured her. Halice would relish a chance to beat the error of his ways into the oily rabble-rouser.

  “Wait with us.” Allin offered Guinalle the platter of sweet-cakes Bridele had given us.

  Guinalle took one grudgingly. “I hope Temar’s not insisting on taking all but the halt and the lame. Driving out these pirates will do no good if Kellarin withers on the vine while he fights.”

  “Did you contact the Diadem?” asked Allin with sudden urgency.

  Guinalle nodded. “Master Heled was none too pleased but Emelan is confident he can guide the ship well out of reach of danger. What about the Rushily?”

  Allin took a cake and nibbled it. “Braull will let the current take them south and then cut back towards Hafreinsaur.”

  “A long voyage,” I commented.

  “Long but safer.” Allin shrugged. “And with Braull on board, they’ll not lack fresh water.”

  “An advantage ships carrying mages have over those with Artificers,” acknowledged Guinalle ruefully. Still, discussing magic seemed to improve her mood.

  “Have you had any success contacting Parrail as yet?” I asked casually.

  “No.” Guinalle smoothed already immaculate braids. “I thought I might be able to reach his dreams last night but the link slipped away.” She adjusted the chatelaine at her waist. “He was barely sleeping deeply enough to dream.”

  “That’s hardly surprising,” I remarked.

  “And no reflection on your skills,” offered Allin earnestly.

  “Perhaps.” Guinalle smiled tightly. “The distance over the water is the biggest problem, that and all the anguish disrupting the aether.”

  “How so?” frowned Allin. She was always interested in learning more of the workings of Artifice, intrigued by the notion that Guinalle somehow drew on the collective, unknowing will and belief of other people.

  “It may be easier once Master Gede dies.” I was surprised to see the normally imperturbable Guinalle shamefaced. “His pain is truly dreadful and disordering the aether. The distress of all his people at his suffering overlays their thoughts.”

  “It must be like trying to work cloud magic in the middle of a rainstorm.” Allin nodded with an understanding quite beyond me.

  Guinalle glanced in my direction. “Imagine trying to hold a tune when someone is screaming in your ear.”

  Tears welled in Allin’s dark eyes. “Gede was still alive this morning when I scried.”

  “The central thought in his mind is protecting Naldeth,” said Guinalle sadly.

  I thought about what Halice had told me over a private glass of white brandy the night before. Inside information was essential for an assault with comparatively few men attacking such a defensible position. Any mage bespeaking Naldeth would betray him with their magic, which left speaking to Parrail across the aether our only hope. I looked at the little white raven figurine, choosing my next words carefully. “Could either of you release Master Gede to Poldrion’s care?” I wasn’t seeing those I loved going into any danger I could lessen, not if there was anything I could do about it.

 
“There’s nothing I can do.” Allin was shocked, as a nicely reared daughter of a rural Lescari household that still observed traditional pieties.

  Guinalle looked at me and I met her gaze steadily. She held to ancient faiths long since consigned to myth and ballad but her training in the Artifice of healing meant she’d worked with the sick and dying often enough. “He’ll be dead in a day or so.”

  “Does Ostrin demand that death be pointless anguish?” I’d seen mercenary surgeons routinely invoke the god of healing and hospitality as they gave some hopeless case a final drink of something to ensure Saedrin wasn’t kept jangling impatient keys.

  Something in Guinalle’s eyes that told me she’d done the same. “If I were actually there, perhaps I could offer him some ease.”

  I looked at the game board and imagined I was playing the raven instead of Allin. Challenging an opponent to swap sides is always a good trick in a taproom, as long as he’ll wager against you winning from the hopeless position you’ve forced him into. It’s lined my pockets a good few times and, more importantly, it teaches you there are always more options than are first apparent. “Guinalle, have you ever tried working Artifice on someone you can see through a scrying?”

  The demoiselle shook her head. “Usara has suggested it but I’ve never tried.”

  Allin looked uncertain. “Artifice and elemental magic so often preclude each other—”

  “You might save Master Gede some pain,” I suggested.

  “Which might clear the aether sufficiently for me to reach Parrail.” Guinalle looked narrowly at me and I wondered if she was using Artifice to read my thoughts. “Very well. Allin, would you scry for me?”

  Allin looked uncertain but was too used to being told what to do to demur. I still intended stiffening her backbone but for the moment was glad the mage-lass remained so pliable. “Of course, Demoiselle.” She moved to the far end of the table where water, bowl, inks and oils were now a permanent fixture. It didn’t take her long to summon an image of Master Gede, ashen faced, head lolling and mouth gasping, either for air or from thirst. His eyes were open but vague and drowsy. Black blood spread from his pinioned hands down the wood of the mast. Fresher flows welled when fatigue or cramp forced involuntary movement to add to his agonies.

  “Mercy is a duty from highest to lowest,” Guinalle muttered to herself with sudden resolve. “Ferat asa ny, elar memren feldar. Ostrin agralfre, talat memren tor.”

  The rhythm of the enchantment recalled a lament my minstrel father had played over the dead child of one of my aunts. A sudden ripple ran over the surface of the scrying though no one had touched the bowl. All at once the vision of the stricken mariner vanished.

  “I’m sorry.” Allin was intent on the bowl. “There was something running so counter to the magic.”

  Guinalle looked distraught for an instant before her customary composure walled off such vulnerability. “It didn’t work. I felt that much.”

  I felt belatedly guilty for asking such a thing of her. “You did your best.” At the same time, I was sorely frustrated.

  The door to the reception hall opened to admit Temar, Ryshad and Halice intent on a new dispute.

  “So we’ve a fighting force, just barely.” Halice cut off Temar’s protest with a brusque sweep of her hand. “How do we outflank Suthyfer without more big ships?”

  I held up a hand. “I know where we’ll get one more.” I’d achieved at least one thing today.

  Halice looked at with ready interest, Temar with sudden hope and Ryshad with affectionate suspicion.

  “Shiv and Usara are in Zyoutessela,” I explained. “They bespoke Allin this morning.”

  “I told them about Naldeth. They insisted on helping.” She barely blushed at this embroidery on the truth.

  Temar smiled at her with delight. “How many men can they raise? What’s Planir’s advice?”

  “Would you bespeak them for us?” Ryshad asked urgently.

  Halice nodded. “If you’re recovered from yesterday.”

  Allin coloured a little but hopefully the others thought that was bashfulness rather than guilt. She had been ordered to work not magic until at least noon today but it had been her insisting to me that she was sufficiently rested to find out what Shiv and ’Sar were up to. Halice and I stepped back to let the mage-girl reach for the broad silver mirror and candlestick scavenged from Temar’s bed chamber.

  “Oh, for a handful of mages to link a few good corps together,” Halice commented in a low voice as Allin worked her spell. “I could hand the Lescari throne to whichever duke made me the highest offer.”

  “How do you think Tormalin’s ancient cohorts managed to defeat Caladhria’s armies so comprehensively?” Temar said unexpectedly. “Coordinating your forces by magic’s as good as having half your number again.”

  “Which is what we’re going to need if we’re going to come out ahead of this fight,” Ryshad pointed out.

  “Which is why the morality of Artifice is drilled into any would-be adept.” Guinalle levelled pointed criticism at Temar.

  “Shiv? It’s Allin.” She smiled into the mirror. “How are you getting on?”

  The spell showed us Shiv and Usara in a wood-panelled room furnished with simple elegance. The light had that translucent quality that comes from overlooking water.

  “Where are you?” asked Ryshad.

  “On the ocean side,” Usara answered. “An inn called the Griffon Garden.”

  Ryshad whistled with amusement. “Still nothing but the best for Planir’s men.”

  The ochre-toned image in the mirror shook for a moment, the bright band around it contracting. “Allin?” Temar laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She nodded. “It’s just Shiv and Usara bracing the spell.”

  The image clarified and Shiv’s voice lost its tinny quality. “Rysh, what’s the best way of hiring a ship hereabouts?”

  “Try the Harbour Master,” Ryshad advised.

  Shiv grimaced. “He says everything is either already at sea or about to sail for someone else.”

  “Then do the rounds of the dockside taverns and find a captain who’s looking peevish. Make him a better offer than the one he’s got.” Ryshad hesitated for a moment. “You’ll need coin on the table though, not the promise of a share in the final payout.”

  Shiv and Usara exchanged a glance that needed no words to speak clearly across the spell.

  Ryshad cracked his knuckles. “There’s a moneylender called Renthuan works out of a goldsmith’s on Angle Street, back on the Gulf side of the city. Tell him I sent you for Kitria’s dowry.”

  With Ryshad’s only sister long since ashes in her urn, that was a useful password.

  “I’ll make good every penny,” Temar assured Ryshad stiffly.

  So he’d better, I thought privately. That would be the gold that was token of Messire D’Olbriot’s esteem for Ryshad, notwithstanding the pragmatism that had prompted the Sieur to hand him back his oath.

  “You need a captain who won’t get all prissy about filling his holds with fighting men rather than cargo,” advised Halice. “And who can rustle you up those wharf rats.”

  “Don’t get arrested for planning piracy yourselves,” Ryshad said hastily.

  “We don’t want word of this getting back to the Emperor.” Temar bent closer to the mirror, voice low and conspiratorial.

  “Or to any chosen or proven man,” added Ryshad. “Remember Zyoutessela’s a D’Olbriot town.”

  “Have you spent much time around docks, Shiv?” I asked.

  “No.” He looked indignant. “I don’t know why people keep asking me that.”

  Temar looked at Ryshad. “Do you know anyone who might assist them?”

  Ryshad shook his head. “Not and be sure D’Olbriot won’t hear of it.”

  “I’m not at all sure they can do this,” Halice muttered to me. “Not without getting their throats cut. This needs you or me over there.”

  “But we’re needed here.” I c
onsidered who else might have both the skills necessary and the willingness to help us out. “Did Charoleia mention where Sorgrad and ’Gren fetched up for the winter?”

  Halice shook her head. “Last I heard they were in Solura. Even the Imperial Despatch couldn’t get a letter to them in time to do any good.”

  Either Allin’s bespeaking skills were improving or Usara had uncommonly sharp ears. “I could bespeak Sorgrad.” He looked like a drowning man who’d spotted a rope.

  “Could you fetch them to you by magic?” I asked.

  “Probably.” Shiv looked thoughtful. “If we work together.”

  “Who are these people?” Temar asked Ryshad.

  “Mercenaries, among other things.” Ryshad spared me a speculative glance. “We’ve not met but Halice and Livak speak highly of them.”

  He came to slip an arm around my shoulder. I slid my hand around his waist and hid my face in his chest for a moment. The comfort of his embrace helped soothe the qualms I was feeling about what I’d asked Guinalle to do and also meant Halice couldn’t catch my eye. I’d seen a burning question on her face that I didn’t want to answer just yet.

  Halice turned her attention to Shiv. “See if you can find out anything about snake-flagged pirates without getting your throat cut.”

  Temar squeezed Allin’s shoulder. “You’re tiring. That’s enough for now.”

  Shiv nodded. “I’ll bespeak you once we’ve made contact with Sorgrad.” He gestured and the link over the endless leagues snapped, leaving the mirror an empty circle.

  Halice turned on me. “How’s he going to bespeak Sorgrad? I thought wizards can only talk to other mages.”