Stained Glass Monsters (11 page)

All she could do was remember what she'd
said to Seb. If she could prevent someone's death she would. It was
a simple pledge, but she murmured it to herself as she led the
Sentene along one side of the manor's remains toward the summoning
circle.

"Wait."

Startled, Rennyn turned to Captain
Faille. He was gazing at the circle through narrowed eyes, then
reached slowly over his head and drew the sword he had strapped to
his back. The other Sentene and Ferumguard followed his lead,
though Rennyn doubted they could see whatever had made him
suspicious. She certainly couldn't, and there was no sense of
casting.

But – tilting her head to one side, she
tried to puzzle it out. Not casting, not the sense of Efera being
worked, but there was a kind of current, a thing she was more used
to feeling in the Eferum. A distortion.

The Sentene split into pairs and spread
to either side, with the Ferumguard forming a loose semi-circle
behind them. Both Danress and Meniar had their slates out. Rennyn
scanned the area. The summoning circle had been in a separate,
smaller building near the main house, and sat a little lower on the
hill's slope. With the walls gone, and dirt creeping past the edges
of tumbled stone, the exposed floor looked like a white pool. Trees
had grown around it, but she couldn't see anyone hiding in the
dappled shade.

Then one of the shadows laughed. Rennyn
glimpsed a shape, the line of a shoulder, of a man sitting with his
back against one of the larger blocks of stone.

"A Montjuste-Surclere with a Kellian
bodyguard. I do like irony."

The words dragged and echoed
unnaturally. The figure shifted again, and through him Rennyn could
see moss-covered stone, and a fragment of fern.

"It's – some kind of illusion, Captain,"
said Meniar.

"Truly, the blood has weakened.
Following that traitor's course without deviation. So predictable,
so unoriginal."

Dropping the makings of a Thought-shield
she'd instinctively drawn, Rennyn walked forward and stared at the
man in the shadows. Black hair, black eyes. A heart-shaped face,
delicately made. She could feel the distortion more clearly as she
came closer, but there was none of the stamp and scent of worked
Efera. He turned his head to study her, the motion oddly too quick
and too slow, the black eyes full of mockery and malice.

"A projection," she said, scarcely
believing her own words. "It's a projection out of the Eferum."

"Not entirely dull-witted, then. Come
closer, little cousin. I want to look at you."

She wanted to look at him too, but she
only circled a short way to her right to get a better angle.

"You will not object, I hope, if I name
you cousin? A few too many 'greats' to describe the proper
relationship."

Rennyn narrowed her eyes. "You look like
your brother," she said, and was rewarded with a sudden flash of
fury. He moved incautiously, and the entire projection flickered
out of existence for several moments, then returned.

Back in control, he reassumed his air of
pleasant malice. "Different enough," he said. "Far less dead, at
any rate. The shield was unsporting, little cousin. Did your
friends not feel equal to the hunt?"

"Have you anything of interest to say,
or are you merely here to talk at me?"

His mouth curved up, wider than it
should. "I'm going to
enjoy
you." He leaned forward, almost
as if he meant to approach her, adding: "Shall I tell you something
useful? Change your tactics."

Before Rennyn had to think of a response
he was gone, the sense of distortion fading to nothing. A bird
called, and the drone of insects rose as if to underline their
previous absence. Rennyn stared at an innocuous rocky stone, then
sighed and found a different one to serve as a seat.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"I – you have a gift for
understatement," Lieutenant Danress' voice wavered, then she shook
her head and allowed the spell she'd been holding back to
dissipate. "The brother you were talking about–?"

"Tiandel." Rennyn felt light-headed, and
worked to adjust. "We have a portrait of him."

"How does this effect your plans?" asked
Captain Faille, not one to waste time exclaiming.

"It's always been the differences
between the first iteration of the Grand Summoning and the current
which have posed the greatest risk. I can't say any of my family
ever predicted that Solace would bear a child to – whatever it is
she's allied herself with. This confirms, at least, that the size
of these incursions is no coincidence. In terms of attuning the
younger focus – if their purpose is to stop me, it means they know
every step, and are no doubt able to calculate the locations as we
did."

"If?" asked Lieutenant Danress
sharply.

"Her need for the attunement wouldn't
have changed. The question is whether she is willing to risk me
being able to use it, or if she thinks she can take it from me.
There's over a day between the final attunement and the conclusion
of the Grand Summoning, and I expect that to be a challenge to
survive. Tiandel's attack on Solace was successful primarily
because she did not expect it. Still, she may not choose to risk a
second attunement, and instead find another way to deal with the
size of the new focus. To that point, I suppose I need to try and
discover whether this second son has done anything clever
here."

She spent some time divining, trying to
imagine any way a person in the Eferum could interfere with this
stage of the attunement. The problem was, she was still struggling
to believe the projection was possible. Even casting an image out
into this world, let alone one that could react, that could hold a
conversation–! The distortion was an incredible obstacle to
overcome, and that projection told her that this second son was an
extraordinary mage.

In any case, she could not find sign of
a trap, so she turned to preparation. The Sentene and Ferumguard
alternated scanning the horizons for enemies with watching Rennyn
as she marked a circle and set out the components. She wondered if
they'd really been ordered not to bother her with questions, or if
that had been Danress' invention. They certainly obediently shut up
whenever she showed a lack of interest in talking, and she was sure
it frustrated them immensely. She wished she'd decided to come here
alone.

The vessel for the younger focus marked
a major stage of the attunement. The pieces had been prepared by
her great-grandmother – two halves of a hollow crystal sphere which
could be bound together with bronze and copper bands. Rennyn pulled
Solace's younger focus from its wire loops and placed it within the
sphere, then carefully worked the bands into position. Placing it
in the centre of the circle of sigils, she stepped outside to
cast.

This was the most technically complex
thing Rennyn had to do, and she set all her concentration to the
task, eyes not wavering from the sigils as each illuminated.
Casting of this level was not simply a matter of thrusting power
through the shapes of sigils, but of taking an absolute view of
their meaning, requiring an understanding of every nuance of
intent. And since the overarching spell, the attunement, was more
Symbolic than Sigillic, she faced the risk of the spell becoming
rather more than she asked for.

On the far side of the veil, a mass of
power was being worked into a thing which would become an extension
of Solace Montjuste-Surclere. Rennyn had three times allowed the
younger focuses to taste the edges of that power. Solace's power.
Because they were a part of Her, they were also a part of It. They
were in two different places, yes, but then that place was the
origin of the younger focuses as well.

The air before Rennyn grew heavy, and
the overhanging branches sagged, leaves and twigs falling and being
whirled away before they could land within the circle. Everything
seemed taller, with the Sentene and the trees and the mountains all
looming above a sucking well, pulling at them, trying to drag them
through the veil to a vast blackness.

The vessel made a tiny clicking sound
and settled fractionally. Done. As the distortion faded, Rennyn
straightened and took a few deep breaths, then flexed her fingers.
She tended to clench her fists during this kind of casting, and the
skin had not fully recovered from their burns.

Lieutenant Meniar, who was a brown, slim
man with an attractive smile, appeared at her elbow and offered a
flask of water. "It worked, then?"

"Try to pick it up," Rennyn said, taking
the flask.

Meniar was quick to step forward, but
his hand slipped off the sphere when it didn't lift as he expected.
He shot her a quick, surprised glance, then wrapped both hands
around the outer bands, shoulders bulging with an effort which
brought no reward. He stepped back, face flushed. "Keste," he said,
"You try."

Lieutenant Faral looked first to Captain
Faille for permission, then approached the vessel at a slight
tangent, as if it was a horse she thought might startle. Rennyn
wondered briefly if the attunement would treat a Kellian
differently, but Faral was no more successful than her partner.

"It's a link to both the Grand Summoning
and the bloodline," she explained, picking up the bound spheres,
now the size of two fists. It was a solid weight, but as yet no
heavier than it appeared. "It will reject anyone who isn't a
Montjuste-Surclere."

"Of which there are now four," Danress
said.

Rennyn nodded, and looked restlessly at
a particular moss-covered block. "He didn't come through the
previous breaches, and we've blocked that passage now. And he can't
complete the attunement within the Eferum. But–"

Change your tactics. Rennyn looked over
her bodyguards and worried about what that meant.

The pebble skittered and bounced down
the hill. Kendall watched it disappear, then sat back with an
exhausted sigh. The throbbing in her head subsided a little, and
she blinked, trying to decide what she was doing wrong. It had
taken four days before anything at all had happened, and being able
to make a pebble wobble and occasionally skip a bit was less than
impressive. Especially when it took so much to manage any movement.
Kendall could carry a thousand pebbles to the top of the palace
with less effort than it was costing her to poke this one with
magic.

Her stomach growled, and she decided she
was more than ready for lunch. At least here every meal wasn't a
matter of careful planning and scrimping. So far as Kendall could
tell, she could spend her entire time refilling her plate in the
dining hall and no-one would protest.

Climbing back up to the garden, she
found Sebastian Montjuste-Surclere leaning against the balustrade
clutching a thick wooden walking stick. His face was flushed with
effort, but he seemed much less limp and ill than last time.

"Congratulations," he said as she
clambered over the barrier.

Surprised and a little uncomfortable,
Kendall glowered. "How did you know?"

"Oh, once you start casting, you get a
good deal more sensitive to changes in the Efera. Enough to tell
location, the power of the casting, sometimes even what's being
cast. You weren't doing anything loud, but I was close enough to
tell the direction."

Not loud about described it. Kendall had
expected more of herself and turned away, shrugging her shoulders.
Then she saw two men, Ferumguard, standing near the infirmary wall
watching them.

"Do they follow you about?" she asked,
interested.

Sebastian flicked an irritable glance at
the pair. "There's always someone watching. They've the most
fantastic library here, and I can't bear to read because I know
someone's watching me do it. That's why I'm out here."

"They're still watching," Kendall
pointed out. Her stomach growled again.

"Inevitably. But I want out of that
infirmary, I want a room with a door I can shut, and they won't let
me until I've improved more."

"Walking practice?"

"Something like." He gave her a
diffident look, and added: "You'll be hungry after Thought-casting.
How about you show me where to get something to eat? That should be
enough that they can't say I need a nurse-maid."

"But they know you can use magic to go
places, don't they?"

"I'm not allowed to, except in
emergencies. Come on. Do we go back through the centre?"

"Quickest way," Kendall said, watching
dubiously as he took a couple of steps, swinging his legs like he'd
forgotten his knees. But he managed to get going at something
faster than turtle pace, so Kendall led him left around the hallway
which circled the Library Tower.

There were three dining halls bracketing
the Halls of Magic's kitchens. The smallest and fanciest belonged
to the Hand, and had lots of smaller tables and some pictures on
the wall which Kendall had liked a lot, even though they only
showed bowls and jugs and grapes. She'd snatched an enjoyable
ramble in there, stroking velvet cushions and inspecting the
carvings of the chair backs. Fine stuff.

The Sentene had their own area, but
Kendall hadn't more than poked her nose in. It was sparse and tidy
and looked like it wasn't often used. The third hall was well
battered, crammed with long benches and always too full of people.
The Arkathan was the busiest section of the Halls, with students
ranging from Kendall's age all the way up to their twenties. People
were always coming and going here, grabbing plates from the
gleaming stacks and moving through the serving trays, taking their
pick. The noise made Kendall want to leave: too much chattering,
clattering, benches scraping back, mugs clunking.

They arrived just as all this was
reaching lunchtime peak, and Kendall took Sebastian's elbow and
made sure he got across the hall upright. She filled their plates
too, not trusting his ability to juggle his cane, then moved them
to one side of the servery so she could look for a place to sit
down.