By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (27 page)

“Really?” he said. “I had assumed that she used an external source, like you perhaps. A sword spirit with her own mage talent is a pretty astounding accomplishment.

“Who made you, Lady Sword?” he asked, admiration evident in his voice.

Gem answered, “Lian’s mother.”

“She was a Great Artificer, then,” he said, and sang a short, sweet, and melodic song.

Divinatory, at a low power level
, Gem observed.
It’s probably something to let him see the magic better
.

Keep an eye on what he does anyhow,
Lian said, attempting unsuccessfully to hide his grief from Gem.
I know that Gilaeshar told you he can’t cast spells directly against us, but you might not quite be covered. You saw what he did to the goblins.

You know I will
, Gem said with conviction. There was no question of her distrust of the skull from in her mental tone. She felt Lian master his welling grief for his family’s demise.

The skull said, “I need to study her enchantments for several hours, Alan. My spell is background magic that a mage will sense, but your vampiric friend will most likely think that it’s something Gem threw on me, perhaps to keep watch on me.

“He won’t be able to discern that it’s my spell, since I chose a spell from the general body of knowledge.” Lord Grey was referring to “uncolored” magic, or hedge wizardry. Most mages were skilled at only a few of the melodies used for hedge magic, rather concentrating on the magics that were their specialties.

“It’s a bit more carefully woven than most petty magic,” Gem commented. “And I don’t recognize the specific spell.”

Lord Grey said, “That’s because it’s one I developed, a long time ago. It’s a very good spell for discovering what magics are affecting something, but it’s very, very slow. It also takes a great deal of my concentration, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t answer you for awhile.”

Researched a petty magic spell?
Lian said to Gem.
Isn’t that kind of unusual for someone with his kind of power?

Well, we’re assuming that he had this kind of power when he was alive, for one thing
, Gem replied.
And who knows how old he is? For all we know, he did it a thousand years ago, but still after he got bound by that curse.

You think it’s a curse?
Lian asked, curious.

I do. Or a punishment, but if so the god in question didn’t “sign” it,
she answered. Most divine curses had incorporated into them the symbol associated with the god that enacted it. This served as a warning for mortal mages not to attempt to unravel the curse, and also marked the wrongdoer as someone who had angered the god. Such signatures were only actually seen by mages and priests, although most of them flared visibly when a holy boundary associated with the religion was crossed.

Some gods did not mark the victims of their curse, which might mean that the deity wasn’t truly incensed at the victim. It could also mean that the deity wasn’t concerned about attempts to release the curse, whether because it couldn’t be broken or perhaps because it would strike out at the mage who dared.

“Contagious” curses were rare, but enough of them existed in legend to make any mage pause before trying to tackle a hex laced with divine power.

Snog reappeared at the edge of the forest and waved to Lian, then started to cross the field. Lian motioned him to wait, and moved toward him. The goblin began the process of lighting another of his pipes, while keeping watch on the forest around him.

When Lian reached his position, Snog said, “I found it, sir. The lads passed it, an’ by the prints gave the thing a wide berth. I don’t think it’ll be disturbed, ‘less one o’ the werewolves comes back.”

“Good work, Snog,” Lian said and held out the dagger and scabbard, which he’d removed from his belt. “This is yours now. It’s enchanted for speed and accuracy, and it’s keen enough to shave with.”

The goblin grinned widely, showing his teeth. He drew the weapon reverently and turned it over in his hands several times, testing the weight and balance. “Do he have a name?” he asked, meaning the blade.

Lian shook his head. “No, that isn’t the custom among my people, my blade excepted.” He patted Gem affectionately where she hung at his side.

Snog put the dagger carefully away in his belt and said, “I’ll give that some careful thinkin’, milord.” He turned and squinted one eye up at Lian. He sighed, “Such a gift, milord, ye must know how generous it be.” The goblin’s tone almost held awe that Lian had made good on his promise.

Lian said, “I do. I’d wager I could get over three hundred shills for such a blade, and you’re welcome to sell it if that’s your wish. You could retire right now with that kind of money.”

Snog wrapped his hands possessively around the dagger. “That’d be a poor way to repay yer gift, Lord. I’ll be keeping him, prayin’ I won’t have to throw him again,” he said protectively.

Still grinning like a madman, Snog led them through the forest to the remains of Temvri’s Undead horse. He was muttering to himself in Govlikel, but Lian couldn’t quite make it out.

He’s talking to the dagger, and asking it what name it likes
, Gem said.
I think you’ve made a friend out of our vicious little goblin
.

He earned it. His throw probably saved Teg, and Saul wouldn’t have been able to bring the ogre back from a wraith’s kind of death, vampire powers or no. And if the wraith had decided to take Snog’s soul, none of us would have been able to stop it. It was a brave and selfless thing he did, throwing his only defense against the wraiths to try to save the ogre.

Lian added,
Father believed in rewarding good service, and Elowyn believed in making men, and goblins I would guess, beholden to you in personal ways. He still may leave us later on, but his oath keeps him from betraying our secrets, and if he stays he’ll be useful indeed.

Gem hadn’t realized how much of Elowyn’s teachings the prince had retained. She wasn’t sure she approved the Machiavellian turn of his thoughts, but she had to admit that it would be likely to help keep him alive in the months and years to come.

The bones of the Undead knight’s horse lay tumbled in a heap, the bit still clenched between the teeth of the skull. Lyrial had apparently fallen sideways as the bones lost coherence, for the saddle lay on its side, driven a little into the ground. There were many goblin-sized footprints around the saddle.

Lord Grey said dryly, “His bodyguards were quick to help him to his feet. Even so, they seemed worried that he’d blast one or all of them because of the fall.”

The saddle was old and worn, but in surprisingly good shape. There were four saddlebags, all oversized. Two of them bulged with their squarish contents, which Lian surmised to be a collection of spellbooks. He asked, “He brought his spellbooks with him?”

The skull said, “Yes. He was very protective of them, as if they held a special significance beyond their use in casting spells. He didn’t trust even his bodyguards to carry the saddlebags, though they were very heavy indeed. He didn’t consult with them, so I had no opportunity to peruse any of the pages.

“Your pack and its contents are in the next saddlebag, and his personal valuables are in the last one. All of the bags are warded, but I know the pass phrases for the two which don’t contain his books. He did not appear to have placed wards to pass only a particular person, for he had one of the goblins place his gold eating utensils in the fourth bag when he was done.”

Lian said, “He trusted someone to handle his treasures?” He put the skull carefully down on a flat stone.

Snog spoke, “Oh, his treasure’s enspelled, but only ‘gainst thieves, sir. One o’ his servants did try to pilfer a coin once, and three days later we found ‘im in his sleeping chamber. He’d choked to death, and when we opened his throat to see what’d done it, a black snake fell out. It was dead, too, but the fangs were sunk into the inside of his windpipe.”

“Inventive,” Lord Grey said, “but wasteful. Such flashy spells are usually the mark of the less talented among blackrobes. The necromancers to watch are the ones who don’t rely on such showmanship.” The skull had not been impressed with his captor.

“Since we defeated him in battle,” asked Lian, “are we thieves?”

“Such spells do usually base their trigger on intent, Alan,” Lord Grey said. “It will be something simple, however. For example, the wards are probably set to look for someone who intends to keep or possess the contents of the bags, and who isn’t the necromancer himself.”

Lian sighed, “So how do we deal with the anti-theft wardings?”

The necromancer replied, “I’ll spin a protection about you so that the wards won’t be able to detect your intent. They are woven only on the saddlebags, so all we have to worry about is any traps he may have left behind for someone capable of doing just this.”

Lord Grey chanted what sounded like a spell. Gem said,
There’s no spell, Lian. A betrayal?

I don’t think so. He knows you can see his magics
, Lian said. He tightened his mouth, but the skull spoke before he could say anything.

“That should place you within a sphere of protection, Alan, such as we had discussed some time ago,” the skull said. His tone was calm and relaxed, as if discussing the proper proportion of meat to potatoes in rabbit stew.

He means the Key
, Lian said to Gem.

Or he means you to believe that the Key will protect you
, she replied, not hiding her distrust and dislike of the black mage.
But I know what you’re about to say. We have to trust him or not at all
.

“Thank you, Lord Grey,” said Lian, as he donned his gloves and bent to untie the leather straps which held the bags closed.

“He may also have been a poisoner,” the prince said in explanation for the gloves.

“Indeed,” said Lord Grey lightly, chuckling. After a brief pause, he added, “I was.”

The comment drew a sharp look from both Lian and Snog toward the small rock where Lord Grey rested. Lian shrugged and went back to his work, saying, “Poison’s a weapon just the same as a sword.”

Present company excepted again, old friend
, he said to the sword. The sentiment had been one that Elowyn used, whenever the subject of venoms and toxins had arisen. Lian’s father had regarded poisoners to be without honor, but when he’d approached Adrienne about the subject, she had surprised him.

***

His mother smiled sadly and said, “If you intend to take a man’s life, Lian, it doesn’t matter to me whether you lay him low with a sword, or burn him with magic, or sprinkle some arsenic into his food. The fact is, he’s equally dead in any of these cases.”

Lian disagreed with her and said, “But at least he has a chance to defend himself if you don’t use poison—”

“Ah, my son,” she interrupted, still smiling ruefully. “Do you really think that a regular soldier would have a chance if I decided to burn him down?”

“Well, he could invest in some kind of charm to hold your magics at bay long enough to stop you . . . ” he said, his sentence left unfinished as a thought occurred to him.

“ . . . but then he could have bought something to warn him of poisoning,” Lian finished.

Adrienne nodded. “Yes. And if you were behind enemy lines, and a single guard were between you and escape, would you stop to challenge him to a duel? No, for he would warn his comrades and you would be killed.

“It would be a knife in the liver and a hand clamped over his mouth, wouldn’t it?” she asked.

Lian nodded. Elowyn had been teaching him how to eliminate sentries. Lian realized, only now, that his mother was likely aware of that. He found the realization somewhat disturbing.

“I wish Dunshor was a more peaceful land, Lian,” she said, crouching and taking her son’s shoulders in her hands. “I don’t approve of Elowyn’s instruction, for he is teaching you to kill your enemies, whether it is by your hand or the hands of those who serve you. I hate killing.”

Lian nodded somberly at the queen. “I know, mother. But if I don’t learn these things, someone will put a knife in my liver some day, won’t he?”

Adrienne said, “Yes, my son,” and rose to accompany her youngest child, then only nine, to his next lesson.

***

The necromancer’s saddlebag contained a variety of items that Lian supposed were of use to his type of black magic. Dried bones and desiccated animal carcasses were among the more pleasant findings, and Lian was glad he’d chosen to wear gloves and to treat the bags as carefully as he had. Two live black widow spiders tumbled to the ground along with the other things. Each of them was the size of Lian’s palm, and they skittered away from Lian quickly when they hit the ground.

Snog whispered an oath in his own tongue and nailed them both with accurately thrown rocks before they could reach cover. Lian inspected the empty saddlebag carefully to make sure that there were no other nasty creatures inside, then bent over the remainder.

With Lord Grey’s help, he sorted the items into three piles. The first they called junk, which included material components for Lyrial’s spells as well as personal items such as a spare set of gloves. Neither Lian nor Snog were willing to risk the wearing of any of the necromancer’s clothes.

The second pile they simply called the money pile. It included the valuables that Lyrial had accumulated which were not also magical in some way. This pile contained both coins and gems as well as the golden eating utensils that Snog had described. Upon examination, these turned out to be gold-plated lead, with the plating wearing thin in places.

There were few copper coins, but over a hundred silver ones. There were four newly minted gold coins among the loot as well, the symbol of Dunshor’s royal house upon them. There were three matched red agates, more valuable sold as a set than they would be separately. Also among the treasure were three black pearls, a tiny sapphire of uncommon clarity, and a silver ring with a slightly clouded but very large emerald.