Sworn To Transfer (5 page)

The Weather Mage vaguely recognized the man’s voice but couldn’t place it. Deciding that he’d teach this idiot a lesson, he called lightning to his fingertips. A costly magical measure, but one that always sent thieves and vagabonds running away as fast as they could. The cloaked man didn’t move.

Smiling, the Weather Mage thought just before he threw the ball of lightning,
He can’t say I didn’t warn him.

He watched as the ball of lightning—enough to destroy a man, and usually in spectacular fashion—arced toward his victim. He had to give the man praise; he didn’t run, he didn’t scream or cower. Instead he stood still in the face of certain death. And when the lightning ball his him directly in the chest, the man
absorbed
it. The Weather Mage watched in astonishment as the lightning hit a writhing dark, shadowy thing on the person’s chest and was gone, like it was never there. And then the Weather Mage knew dread. He was in trouble.

The cloaked man laughed and strode forward, unafraid. When the Weather Mage tried to run, he felt the wall behind him grab him. Screaming in fear, he saw dark shadows come down over his shoulders and slither up his thighs to bind him to the wall. As the cloaked man stopped in front of him and pulled back his hood to reveal his face, the Weather Mage still didn’t recognize him. But he recognized that
smell
—the smell of death.

Shaking as the man traced a finger down his trembling face, the Weather Mage licked his lips and said, “Please. I’m a wealthy man. Anything.
Anything
I have can be yours.”

“You see, Weather Mage,” said the man with surprising gentleness, “I already have what I want.”

And then he clutched the Weather Mage’s face in one hand, and shadows began to pour down the mage’s throat. Before he lost consciousness, the Weather Mage thought,
They feel just like slugs.

A
few hours later, Ciardis was rushing across the outer courtyard of the Companions’ Guild. As she reached the courtyard’s center where the cobblestones started radiating out in ever-growing rings, she stopped and stuck out her hand in confusion. Frowning, she took in the falling precipation in dismay. It was
snowing
...in fall. It was far too early for this sort of nonsense. It shouldn’t be snowing for at least another four months. Maybe five. And even then the snow was only likely to fall in the early morning hours when night had yet to release its hold and the sun still slept.

Snow never lasted long in Sandrin. The capitol city was too close to the sea and too warm year-round for it to have a regular annual snowfall. She lifted her hand hesitantly and watched as snowflakes dropped from the sky and dissolved in the heat of her palm.

So why I am looking up in the sky and seeing flurries come down?

Shaking her head at the bizarre weather, Ciardis hurried forward to get access to the Archives. She hadn’t wanted to go her normal route through the colonnade and into the main entrance. Too many prying eyes. So instead she went outside, across the courtyard, and cut through a side garden to a small entrance adjacent to the side garden’s entrance.

It allowed direct access to the older portion of the Archives where the large, detailed maps of the Algardis Empire were on display. Moving around the long tables and framed panels quickly, she found a quiet reading nook to curl up in. Sighing heavily, she fingered the ankle bracelet on her leg and hoped this worked.

Five minutes passed, then ten minutes, as Ciardis anxiously waited. What if he had forgotten or deemed a court function more important than their rendezvous?

And then she felt the familiar tug of power radiating from the bracelet and she reappeared in the Aether Realm, seated in a flowering garden bower. She stared in surprise at the blissful spring surroundings. She sat on a stone bench in a bower filled with honeysuckle - the small, delicate flower that had a trumpet shape and a sweet smell. As she broke a handful off at the stem their smell wafted into her nose and she felt the slight stickiness of resin on her hands.

This was much more pleasant than the winter weather in Sandrin. The Aether Realm was a dangerous place, which could drain your magic if a mage wasn’t careful, but it had it’s upsides as well – beautiful spring weather in the dead of fall being one of them. She heard a twig snap behind her and quickly turned toward the only way in or out of the bower: an entrance with a rounded trellis surrounding it. It, too, was adorned with honeysuckle. Underneath the blooming arc of white flowers stood Sebastian, an awkward smile on his face. Ciardis quickly stood and moved around the fountain that took up the bower center.

Grasping his hands before he could speak, she laid a chaste kiss on each of his cheeks.

“It’s good to see you, Prince Sebastian.”

He grinned and returned the cheek kisses. “What—you’re not still mad at me for ignoring you on the ship?”

She snorted. “Was I supposed to be?”

Narrowing her eyes and stepping back, she regarded him carefully.

Sighing, he walked around her and towards the water fountain in the center of the garden.

“I don’t want to have an argument, Ciardis.”

“Good, neither do I.”

“I don’t want to be nagged, either.”

All of this was said with his back turned to her, so he didn’t see it when her hand came flying out and slapped him on the back of the head.

“I don’t nag,” she snapped. “And, quite frankly, I’m not your wife, your lover, or your court flunkie. I’m your
friend
. So I suggest you treat me with some respect.”

He turned around chagrined and sat down on the fountain’s edge as he looked up her towering over him with her hands placed angrily on her hips and a stormy expression on her face.

Continuing, she said, “You asked me to come here as I recall.” She was staring down at him, her stomach knotted with anxiety, trying to hide the sickened dismay and the feeling of her heart in her throat.

He rolled his shoulder at an uncomfortable angle – nervous in the face of her ire.

“So I did.”

He swallowed as he said, “When did this happen?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“This...weird conflict between us?”

“Oh, I don’t know. When you walked in five minutes ago?”

“No,” he protested. “You’ve been weird for
months
...”

“Wrong, Sebastian,” she said fiercely. “It’s
you
that’s been avoiding me. Every time I requested an audience over the summer it was denied. Not a letter or a word for months.”

He wilted. It was true. “You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand!”

For a long moment his dark green eyes and her golden ones held each other’s gaze. Turmoil in one gaze. Fierce pride in the other.

And then she collapsed to her knees in nervous laughter so that he, seated, looked down upon her. Reaching forward with trembling hands, she gathered his in her own.

“You’ve been busy doing the emperor’s work, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “I know this. But I also know about the rumored attempts on your life. I’ve been busy with functions of my own, but I never stopped worrying about you. And wondering why...why we aren’t still friends.”

Squeezing her hands with slight pressure, he licked his lips. “We still are. But I don’t know whom to trust. The Imperial Guard, my father...hell, even the nobles are acting oddly.”

She gave him a wry grin. “Aren’t they always?”

“More oddly than usual.” With a pause he continued on with a tenseness in his voice.

“The dragon was right, Ciardis. There have been deaths,” he said.

“Where?” she questioned, alarmed.

“Murders, we think. In the Ameles Forest.” He amended, “So far they’ve been scattered occurences. Infrequent attacks, really. But they’re adding up. If it’s not taken care of we could have a revolt from the local populace. And what’s more the envoy that the residents of the Ameles Forest trust most is dead.”

“You don’t mean...”

He nodded.

He was referring to the dead Princess Heir, Marissa Algardis. Prince Sebastian’s aunt, who had been trying to have him removed from the inheritance rights of the Algardis throne by draining his mage core since he was five. When that tactic was thwarted by Ciardis last spring she had tried to kill Ciardis in retribution while vowing to do the same to Sebastian. Sebastian and Ciardis, together with his loyal guard, had managed to kill her instead. But only at the expense of quite a few lives, including that of Damias Lancer, Ciardis’s tutorials instructor and a man she had considered a friend.

Ciardis swore enough to make a sailor proud. “I knew that bitch would come back to haunt us.”

He laughed wryly. “In more ways than one.”

“But surely there’s not someone out there deliberately attacking the
kith
?”

“My father thinks there is,” Sebastian said slowly.

The
kith
were the magical races of creatures who were the original inhabitants of the Algardis Empire. Over the centuries they had grown to cohabit with humans peacefully. But the Ameles Forest held a special significance for many of the
kith
. As a consequence, a large portion including the mythical griffins and the
cardiara
called it home. If they were being attacked and murdered, it was a concern for all of the Ameles Forest
kith
and the surrounding communities.

“Something must be done,” she said.

He nodded. “And something will. My father has ordered me to travel with an official presence to the forest in the coming weeks. Lord Meres Kinsight will be going ahead in the next week with others as an advance party.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“But the forest deaths are just
one
concern among many,” he said bitterly.

“And the other concerns are?”

“Well, my uncle the Duke of Cinnis wants me dead, and the Western Isles are demanding a new treaty enforced by the Lord of the Windswept Isles.”

“The first I can see as a problem. But the second?”

“The treaty between the Western Isles and the Algardis Empire has always been negotiated by the heir to the throne directly with the representive of the Western isles. The fact that they’ve asked for the Lord of the Windswept Isles as an intermediary is an insult.”

“Hmm, yeah, that could be a problem. What has the emperor said?”

“My father stands by my side. He assures me that I will be present for the negotiations.”

Ciardis took that in stride. But she knew that having a presence in the room wasn’t the same thing as being a negotiator at the table.

But first things first. “So tell me more about this duke.”

They spoke long into the afternoon about his uncle, Duke of Cinnis. A distant relative of Prince Sebastian’s, he seemed out for his nephew’s blood. Before Prince Sebastian had to leave, they agreed to meet at a local tavern later in the week, as traveling to the Aether Realm was magically taxing. The bracelet she wore on her ankle had limitations and, as far as Prince Sebatian could tell, could only be used once a week before it went inactive.

When Ciardis returned to the Companions’ Archive, she decided she needed to do some snooping of her own. This Duke of Cinnis was trouble. Regardless of the fact that he was Sebastian’s family, he was clearly not feeling familial enough to avoid trying to kill him. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she slipped on a cloak and strode out into the rainy mist. Slipping through the outer gates which barred entrance to the Companions’ Guild in the mid-afternoon wasn’t hard.

The flurries of snow had given way to a light, icy rain that made the guards less likely to venture outside of their gatehouse to interrogate individuals who were seeking to leave the Companions’ Guild. They’d reserve their treks in the bitterly cold rain for those who wanted to obtain entrance to the castle grounds.

This worked in Ciardis’s favor as she headed for the nearest available conveyance that would take her to the Imperial Courts. She had some friends she needed to talk to. As she descended from the carrier she’d taken, she made sure to walk to one of the palace side gates instead of the main one. She didn’t want to attract attention. She just wanted to get inside.

She flashed a sunny grin at the guard on duty, whom she knew from weapons training, she said, “Hello, Morris. Cold afternoon, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it is. Bloody cold weather.”

She nodded, “I’m here to see Varis Turnfeather.” No sign of recognition crossed his face.

“Lord Varis?” she clarified.

“Have an invitation?”

“No,” she said slowly, trying to think of a way to get entrance, “but it’s just a quick visit.”

“Lass, you know I can’t let you on palace grounds without a palace invitation. Not with all the deaths and whatnot within the past three months.”

“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “But perhaps you could summon him for me?”

“That I could do.” He turned aside quickly and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply. The earsplitting screech was directed at the gate barracks just around the corner. Ciardis couldn’t see it from her vantage point, but she certainly heard the crash of metal upon metal that rang out.

Morris cursed and shook his head in disgust. “Boy was probably napping on the job. Was supposed to be hammering nails.”

That last bit was said loudly enough for the spindly boy rushing around the corner to hear. His red hair stuck up every which way as he hurried over, and a red flush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, Morris,” he said hurriedly. “I just knocked some pails over. Nothing big.”

The glare Morris leveled at the bony boy said it was a problem if he said it was problem. The boy hunched his shoulders like a whipped dog and ducked his head.

“You’ll be cleaning that up,” Morris advised. The boy immediately turned to rush back to the barracks and pick up the scattered nails.

“Not
now
, numbskull.”

“Right.”

Morris sighed in irritation. “Go and get Lord Varis. Tell him Mistress Weathervane is waiting at the gate.”