High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (19 page)

“That’s . . . a generous offer, Lorcus,” I agreed.  “You are a man of many talents.  And I am desperate to find such men right now.  But how do I know I can trust you?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  What would it take to convince you?”

So I summoned a retainer of mine, Lesana.  She was a lovely young woman who was a magical sport: someone who had a marked strength in one area of their Talent, but not enough to develop by study.  Her particular gift was also a horrible curse.

In her presence you could not utter a falsehood.  It had made her life miserable, and she had quietly made her way to Sevendor to seek my help, as so many did.  Thankfully I had figured out a way to dampen the effect with a classy little enchantment she now wore as a necklace.  When she took it off, she was a truth-compeller.  And she was in my employ and under my protection.

That had proven exceptionally useful to me a few times.  Her gift was a closely-held secret in my household, but if I needed to know I could trust someone, I could call her in.  She lived on a stipend I paid, in a small cottage on the south ridge when she wasn’t needed at the Castle, but I had also given her an enchantment to let her know when I summoned her.

I questioned Lorcus for two hours, and he utterly satisfied me as to his loyalties.  I excused Lesana with a generous tip before welcoming him into my inner circle.

“That’s . . . quite the lass you have there,” he said, blushing, once she’d left.

“She’s helpful,” I agreed.  “So, you want to work for me.  I need good men.  What is left is to decide in what capacity you should work.”

“Well, what is your most pressing problem?”

That was a good question, another reason why I liked Lorcus.  Now that I had a wealth of stones, an untold fortune in snowstone, lands, titles, and responsibilities, my most pressing problems were organizational. 

“Why don’t you go investigate Master Dunselen?” I asked.  “He’s gone on a binge of conquest, recently.  It’s starting to cause a fuss among the nobility, and that’s not the kind of pressure we need right now.  I need to know what is truly happening before I can take any action.  Go to his domains and find out what the situation is.  Meet the man, if you need to, and learn what is on his mind.”

“Simple enough – and I understand the need for subtlety,” he agreed.  “Former ducal court mage, mad with power.  Sounds like Orril Pratt,” he mused.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I agreed.  “He’s not a warmage, but he is an adept, and he’s got a witchstone.  So proceed cautiously.”

“And what credentials will I have to support me?” he asked.  I went downstairs to my workshop and returned a moment later, handing him a token.

“That’s a snowstone snowflake,” I explained.  “Rondal made me a bunch of them this winter, before he and Tyndal went off to school, and they are very distinctive.  And impossible to forge.  I added a few enchantments, too.  I can track it, for example.  But that should serve as my badge, if there is any question.   I have to meet with the King and the court in a few weeks.  Dunselen is bound to come up, and I want to be able to say that I have dispatched one of my best men to investigate the matter.  And take this, too,” I said, putting a few ounces of gold at his elbow.  “For expenses.  As for pay, I’ll put you on a monthly stipend, for now.”

“Money doesn’t interest me,” he promised.  “Problems interest me.”

I liked Lorcus.  I needed more like him.

Chapter Seven

The Royal Court

I had expected to be deployed in Gilmora by early summer, but there just wasn’t any activity in the Penumbra indicating that the gurvani were preparing to move, and logistically speaking there would have to be.  Maybe Shereul was taking the summer off.  But if the Dead God was taking a holiday from invasion, that didn’t mean I could relax.  Instead of slaying goblins and dueling dragons, I had been summoned to the Royal Court in Castabriel.  That worked out well, in a way, because I also had urgent business of the Arcane Orders to attend to, and the headquarters and hub of bureaucracy for such things was in the capital as well.  As much as I hated to leave Sevendor in the summer, I was compelled.

At least this time I could bring Alya along.  She had been nursing the last time I’d come to the capital, but now that Minalyan was mostly weaned, she and the baby were both traveling with me . . . along with a legion of retainers.

Alya was bringing both of the children, so Darishi, the nursemaid was coming, as was her husband and her baby, just to keep up with Minalyan.  Alya included Sister Bemia as an aid and chaplain. It might have been extravagant to pay for a birthsister to accompany us, but with the new baby Alya didn’t want to take any chances.  She also brought along three serving women from the castle to cook and see to our laundry.  Sire Cei was in charge of Sevendor in my absence, but I took along Sir Festaran as a personal aid and bodyguard.  I also took four of my vassal knights and their squires for security, and a page for running errands.

Banamor was coming.  He wanted to attend the Convocation and promote the magical fair in the autumn.  He also wanted to trade some of his inventory in preparation for the fair, so he brought along a clerk, a porter and a strongbox.  Even Lady Fallawen was coming as an emissary from the Alka Alon council.  And two Tal Alon servants were along to fetch and carry.  That was twenty-five people to make one small journey.

I left Dara home.  She was at a delicate place in her training.  She had learned enough to manifest great power with her small stone, but she had yet to learn control sufficiently to be trusted in public.  I had enough going on in the big city without trying to keep up with her.  She wasn’t a troublemaker, exactly, but she excelled at finding it pre-made and ready to consume.  Castabriel was just too rich and interesting an environment, and there were too many hidden dangers that a barely-literate girl from the Westwood would not see coming. 

She wasn’t happy about being left behind.  Tyndal and Rondal were still away at War College, receiving advanced training, and with Banamor and the other magi also heading for the Convocation, there wasn’t much to do.

“You’ll have Sire Cei,” I pointed out.  “And Gareth is acting as Deputy Spellwarden, with Banamor gone.  And Master Olmeg should be around.  But with everyone else away, I want a native Sevendori noble in residence at the castle, and apart from myself and Alya . . . you’re it.  Just don’t burn the castle down when I’m away.”

“You’re building a new one!”

“Which won’t be ready to live in for years, despite how fast the Karshak are working.  Until it is, keep this place standing.  That’s your primary job as noble-in-residence.  And try to refrain from attempting any serious magic while I’m gone,” I advised, as I envisioned the worst.  “In fact, just try to . . . read quietly,” I decided.

“
Read quietly?”
she asked skeptically.

“Just little spells,” I agreed. 

She made a face.  “Can I talk to the Alka Alon?”

“Certainly,” I agreed.  “They won’t let you get into trouble.  And Tyndal and Rondal will be home, soon.  Sire Cei can call me on the Mirror.  And you can always call me, mind-to-mind,” I reminded her.

“I’m sure I will not have to,” she sniffed indignantly.

“It would be great if you didn’t.”

I know Sire Cei was in charge.  I still was leaving my domain in the hands, technically, of a fourteen-year-old girl.  It made me anxious.

The weather was gorgeous as we made our way down the Bontal by barge, chartering a boat for the purpose.  The trip was mostly pleasant, if punctuated by business.  When war, government, and intelligence can come to you mind-to-mind, not even the peaceful isolation of a river barge was a refuge. Alya fussed over traveling with the baby for the first time, but Darishi and Sister Bemia were helpful in keeping her calm. 

We disembarked at a small village just shy of the capital and made our way overland by carriage to Pentandra’s picturesque country estate of Fairoaks.  She had been there since the Alka Alon council, tending to the business of the Order and preparing for the convocation.  I sent along the bulk of our party to prepare my quarters at the refurbished temple, and Alya and I spent a few days talking with Pentandra and going over the agenda for the Convocation.

“This is only the second one, so there isn’t a lot of formality yet,” she explained over wine after dinner.  “But you’ll be expected to address each assembly.  That is your chance to announce policy changes, give direction, make new appointments, and express your opinions on the class of the mage.  Before that you’ll be meeting with the administrative heads of each order to determine exactly what policy changes need to be made.  And there are quite a few,” she added in a voice that told me she was understating the problem. 

“I can imagine,” I sighed.  “I’ve already heard plenty of petitions from people who have snuck into Sevendor.  And plenty of written letters begging for judgment or assistance.  I refer them to the Orders, usually.”

“I know,” Pentandra said, miserably.  “Which is where they accumulate until you give some direction.  It’s going to be a few hard days’ work.”

“That will have to wait until after I meet with the King and Queen,” I pointed out.  “And if I get executed, then this is all in your lap.”

“So don’t get executed.  It would undermine the war effort,” she reminded me.  “Just find out what he wants and let’s get to the important stuff.”

I was surprised how well Alya and Pentandra were getting along.  Pentandra was a gracious hostess, and they soon fell into a casual, almost sisterly relation.  Alya was appropriately complimentary on her recently-purchased estate, and did not voice any objections to the presence of so many beautiful young men.  Pentandra cultivated muscular playthings for “research purposes,”
and had no restraint about the practice in a way that would shock most high-born ladies . . . and quite a few low-born ones, as well.  Alya was used to her ways, I suppose.  Or they had come to an understanding.  In either case she did not act threatened by Penny, especially now that we had children together.

Women are weird.

I couldn’t fault Penny’s work, however.  She had, with the assistance of a team of clerks, organized the Orders’ affairs as neatly as possible.  She was training an assistant to continue the practice in her absence, a monkish mage named Genthil. 

But I could not tarry at Fairoaks long, as good as the holiday did me.  Court was meeting, and I had an audience with the King.

*                            *                            *

When most people think of a Royal Court, they think of a throne room in a long hall with banners and guards and heralds and such.  While Castabriel certainly had a magnificent throneroom, the actual court usually met in a much more intimate, paneled chamber between the Royal residence and the Prime Minister’s quarters known as Gilrard’s Hall, after a particularly well-esteemed prime minister for the Duke of Castal, a century ago.  Gilrard’s Hall is a dark smoke-filled chamber featuring a large octagonal table around which the business of the Duchy – and now the Kingdom – was conducted. 

It was comfortably shabby, a good working environment, but I could tell it no longer suited the fancies of Their Majesties.  The capital had been abuzz about the grand new palace complex that was being planned for a nearby site.  The Spear that had been the seat of Rard’s family was no longer adequate for the King of Castalshar. But until that grand new palace was built, we sat in Gilrard’s Hall, drank beer and discussed the affairs of the kingdom.

Rard looked tired and older than when I last saw him, but he wore his weariness regally.  The Queen, on the other hand, was vibrant.  She seemed to thrive at being at the center of power.  As the head of the Family, the kingdom’s secret intelligence service, she had done a lot to establish that power.  When we arrived, I had expected to be greeted by one of her sinister emissaries.  Instead I was welcomed by a senior castellan who showed me to a waiting room outside of Gilrard’s Hall.  For this visit I had elected to come with only Sir Festaran to attend me. 

I was prepared to wait awhile, as I usually ended up doing when visiting royalty, but I suppose my stock had risen in the two years since I’d first met Duke Rard at Wilderhall.  I was quickly escorted into the dark paneled room where the King and Queen, the Prime Minister, the Warlord, and other officials were seated around the table.  I bowed deeply to the crowns before taking my seat.

“Ah, the Spellmonger!” Rard clapped.  “We were hoping you would be in attendance.  We have often missed your wisdom on the affairs of the kingdom. “

“To what in particular might I advise you, Your Majesty?” I asked, respectfully.

“When are those damn goblins going to attack?” he demanded.  “We have troops positioned, and more on the way, but they’re damned expensive to keep in garrison if we don’t need them.”

“We need them,” I assured him.  “Indeed, we need more.  From what I understand, the goblins are doing more looting and raiding than conquering.  They have yet to cross the river in force.  But that does not mean that they are not readying a blow.  The longer they wait, the more strength they will have.  If we do not have sufficient strength to shield us, then all of Gilmora could be lost.”