The Pogrom of Mages: The Healers of Glastamear: Volume One (8 page)

Chapter 16

Michael enjoyed a relaxing breakfast, said goodbye to the innkeeper, over-tipped the chambermaid, and explained to everyone that he had business in Briarton but expected to return to the inn next month.

He left by the eastern gate; there was a long line waiting to pass even though it was early morning. Two priests stood next to the guards asking question of everyone leaving the city. Michael explained his business trip to Briarton and showed his letter of recommendation from Arthur of Stone Lane. He was allowed to pass with a nod. He rode for five thousand paces on the eastern road before crossing through the farmland to pick up the north road to Snowport.

Once he was away from the city, he cast
detect all manna
to reveal any manna within a five thousand paces circle. There were no healers within his range. He changed clothes in a fallow oat field putting on a simple black traveling shirt and pants. He replaced his ornate dagger with a simple steel one. As it got cooler he added the black waterproof cape to his nondescript outfit.

He rode along Snowport Road greeting everyone he passed while trying not to make any impression on them. A few hours before dark, he moved off the road to camp for the night. He re-cast his manna detection spell with all of his power and saw the manna of two healers and two fire mages six or seven thousand paces north along the highway. He rode on at a gallop until he was near the manna signs. He pulled off into an apple orchard and tied up his horses. He cast
transparency
on himself and proceeded on foot until he was across the road from an inn.

The two fire mages were inside the inn, but the healers he wanted to rescue were chained to a tree outside the inn. He watched as people took turns throwing eggs, filth, and rocks at the helpless healers. They gave the guards a copper for each chance to throw five items. By midnight all but two temple guards had gone inside and the healers, covered in filth and left on the near freezing ground, were asleep, their arms still chained to the tree.

Michael put both guards to sleep in the way he’d done in the temple at Northport. Both healers were young men about his age, but he didn’t recognize them. He woke the first with his hand over his mouth. “Quiet. I’m here to help you escape.”

The healer nodded without speaking. He seemed uncertain if the voice was part of a dream until Michael used a spell to unlock the manacles. Using the same process Michael freed the other healer, and put rings on each and hung a chain around their necks. He led them across the road and was several hundred paces away from the inn before he spoke in a whisper.

“The rings will hide your manna from the priests and the gold chains will make you invisible. People can still feel or hear you so we must be very quiet. You both need baths or they’ll find you just by smell.”

“I’m Turcha from Snowport Provence, and this is Otto of White Plains. Was that the
anesthesia release
spell you used to put the guard to sleep?”

“You can just call me Friend. Yes, the spell will last at least till dawn. There’s a pond a thousand paces south. Let’s get cleaned up and plan what to do next.”

They made good time to the pond where the healers washed off the offal the good citizens had paid copper coins to throw at them. The water was frigid, and both healers were shaking when they were finished.

“Well Friend, can you explain what just happened to us. I understand the spell that put the guards to sleep, but I’ve never heard of golden chains that make people invisible except in ancient myths,” Otto asked after they were clean, dressed in some of Michaels dry clothing, and ready to travel.

Michael decided to limit the details in case they were recaptured. “They came from Black Sand Beach twenty thousand paces south of Northport. There’s a naiad community in the reef. If you can make your way there, tell Obert their shaman that a friend sent you. You’ll be taken care of until we can move you to a safer place.”

“Damn, you mean you’re not coming with us?” Turcha asked.

“I’m headed north. I’ve seen what happens below the Great Temple of Northport. Under no circumstance do you want to be taken there alive. I could give you one of my horses, but how would you explain an invisible person riding a horse? Take all the food and a couple of knives. Stay away from people and detour far around Northport. They’ll be searching for you; it’s best to travel at night. I hope to see you at Black Sand Beach in two or three weeks.”

He felt bad about not telling them his name or that they would find other rescued healers at Black Sand Beach, but it seemed safest to say as little as possible. He led them to his horses and gave them all the supplies he could. They headed south, and he mounted and rode Ebony Honor north at a fast trot in order to be far as possible past the inn by morning.

As he rode by the inn, he saw the guards were still sleeping and no one was about. He wondered what the guards’ fate would be, but when he thought of the copper coins they had accepted, his worry about their future receded.

He was at the wooden gates of the farming town of Appleton by dawn and waited with other travelers for the gates to be opened. He entered with a crowd of farmers carting their autumn harvests to the market square. He noticed an inn with a tree-shaded courtyard where he enjoyed a large breakfast of eggs, apple mutton sausage, apple biscuits, fried apple pies, and apple cider. The town was packed for the annual apple harvest festival so that one more stranger didn’t attract much attention. He saw a couple of priests, but they took no notice of him.

After breakfast, he replenished his supplies at the market. Even though he’d had no sleep, he rode on hoping to move faster than the priests and guards who by now would have discovered their prisoners missing.

About two hours past noon he was traveling through the Great North Forest, a dense stand of spruce and fir that stretched for a hundred thousand paces all the way to Snowport and east into the White Mountains. That evening, he moved nearly a thousand paces from the road to make camp on a bluff with a distant view of the Western Ocean. Around him stretched an uninhabited primeval forest of greens and blues. He didn’t want a fire to give away his location so he ate a cold dinner. Before bedding down he cast
detect manna
. There were no manna signs. He knew it would be a cold night without a fire, but he piled up all his clothing and his cape and crawled under them and fell asleep immediately.

The sound of his horses woke him before dawn. When he sat up, he startled a buck that was investigating his pack, probably looking for an apple and making his horses jealous. Even before standing, he cast his most powerful version of his manna detection spell. The road was busy with over twenty fire mage signs. It looked like the knight protectors were out in force searching for the missing healers. They must have called out every knight and temple guard in the north to have that many in this one section of the road. When he looked seaward, he saw that several ships with fire mages were close to shore. The concentration of fire mages made him wonder if he had done something to attract their attention to this specific area of the forest. He was no woodsman and had done nothing to cover his trail when he left the road.

He ate a cold breakfast and watched the fire mages while he looked over the fire mage manuscript he’d found below the temple in Northport. He merely read; he didn’t want to try any fire mage spells because the priests might be able to detect their own types of spells at a distance.

Twenty minutes later, he could tell that three of them were following the path he had taken last night. They would soon be upon him if he didn’t move. He packed his gear and led both animals toward the beach. After he was off the ridge, he mounted and made good speed through the open forest. In the last stand of trees before the sandy beach, he dismounted and hooked three of the golden chains together and put them around the neck of his packhorse.

Michael knew that elves could touch the minds of animals and communicate directly to any reasonably intelligent creature. He decided to try direct reassurance to his packhorse. He concentrated while holding his hand on the horse’s head. With a shock he felt the emotions and uncertainty of the animal. He focused on reassuring the scared horse with thoughts of fresh hay and juicy apples. He took an apple from his pack and gave it to the skittish animal.

After he quieted the packhorse, he mounted Ebony Honor and cast
transparency
with enough force to cover both himself and his horses. After getting both horses under control by mental reassurance, he rode them out to the surf and rode through the waves so their tracks would be washed away.

Once the horses got comfortable with the idea of not being able to see their own bodies, they sped along at a canter, and Michael could see the manna of the fire mages fall behind.

When he was four thousand paces from the nearest fire mage, he slowed to a walk so that the splash of their passage could not be seen from the boats offshore and his horses could rest. A thousand paces further north he found a rocky stream flowing into the sea. He rode upstream for five hundred paces before cutting back to the beach. By mid afternoon, he could detect no one following him, but there were still many manna signs along the main road. He stayed close to the sea for the rest of the day, because in a worst case, he could abandon his horses and use
water breath
to stay submerged until the knight protectors gave up the search.

He made camp on a bluff with a good stand of grass so that the horses could recover from their strenuous day. He spent the remaining daylight studying the fire mage spell book. Michael knew that fire mages could detect fire spells when they were cast nearby just as he could see the glow of healing spells done within a hundred paces. He decided to try one small spell since there was no one with manna signs nearby.

Michael translated the eleven words as
winter blanket
. The spell was designed to keep the user warm even in brutally cold weather. When he said the words, the ambient temperature around him immediately jumped from near freezing to a pleasant summer day. He could do fire magic as well as healing and water magic. Maybe he was the elf-blood. When he reached out with his hand, he found the spell extended only about a foot beyond his torso. He wasn’t sure how long the spell would last, but he hoped it would last all night and provide a better night’s sleep than covering himself with every bit of his clothing.

Chapter 17

For three days Michael traveled either on or near the beach. Signs of the fire mages grew less each day. He came near fishing villages several times but cut inland to avoid them. Finally on the fourth day he could find no fire mages with his most powerful spell. The main road to Snowport now ran directly along the coast, and he guessed that he was less than twenty thousand paces from the northern port city.

He was running low on food and decided to visit the next village along the Northport/Snowport Road. It was a small hamlet called Sand Point with about twenty houses, a small open-air market, and a single inn. He shopped at the market chatting with each vender in the hopes of learning more of what was going on with the priests in the area.

A fish merchant explained, “Those knight protectors fellows came through three days ago. It seems a couple of healers escaped from an inn about three days ride south. The clergy called out every priest and knight in the north to look for ‘em. Must have been thirty of them fellows passed through here headed south. They didn’t buy a damn thing, just asked a lot of questions. Lot ‘a foolishness if you ask me. What could two not very bright boys from Snowport and White Plains have to do with killing old King Justin?”

Michael never asked a single direct question, he merely visited with the vendors and went to the inn for an excellent supper of fish stew and freshly baked bread. He had learned a lot. Because there were no horses missing from the inn or any nearby farms, the search was concentrated within walking distance of the inn where he had freed the two healers.

Four priests had returned to Snowport the previous day stopping for lunch at the inn. The search had been unsuccessful so far, but the knight protectors were still on the hunt. The priests had been told to return to their regular duties in Snowport and other northern towns and to leave things to the knights.

Michael spent the night at the inn after deciding it was time to resume his role as the son of a wealthy merchant. He selected the finest room and had a warm bath prepared. After the bath he went downstairs in his expensive merchant clothing with his showy jeweled dagger on his hip. He drank the best wine and over-tipped the chambermaid and barkeep. He had his horses groomed and given expensive oats and apples rather than hay. He wanted the innkeeper to remember him as a merchant rather than someone just passing through town without an explanation.

The next morning he inquired about a stage into Snowport explaining that he was a little saddle sore. He arranged for the horses to remain with the innkeeper until his return, and took the morning stage into town.

Late that afternoon he arrived in Snowport. It was a walled city of substantial size, perhaps one third the population of Northport. It had a unique architecture with much steeper gray slate roofs and wide streets to handle the heavy winter snows. The building had been constructed using olive green stonework. There seemed to be a chimney for every room in every house, and many of the sidewalks were covered with slanted slate roofs to direct the snowfall out into the street for pickup.

He went to the finest inn, Snow Flower Rest, and booked a suite of rooms. On the way he passed through Temple Square. There was no sign of executions having been conducted there, no manna from healers anywhere in the city.

He found the agent of his Northport banker, Tobias Howardson, a middle-aged chubby man with a stern manner. Michael had been using the name Michael Son-of-William because merchants always seem to have dual names, while village folk, like he’d been growing up, only had one. He presented his letter of credit, and the agent looked at the size of his credit line trying unsuccessfully to hide his shock.

“My dear sir it would be my privilege to assist you in any way I can during your stay. Is there business I can help you with?”

“I’m here to buy several line-fishing boats. I have heard that in Snowport you build the best ones in the whole of Glastamear.”

“That is the honest truth sir. Because of the severity of our winters and the normally high waves even in summer, we construct much sturdier ships than southern shipwrights. The lives of our fishermen depend on them.”

“Perhaps you could introduce me to several of your best. I want two or three newly constructed boats for my operation out of Northport.”

“I’d be honored; I’ll set something up for tomorrow morning. I can meet you at Wrights’ Lane three hours after dawn. May I help in any other way?”

Michael showed him several of his pearls, and asked for the best way of selling several in town.

“The finest jeweler in the north is Peter of Gold Street. He makes all the jewelry for the local clergy. High Priest Carson will only buy from Peter; he even made his new crown. There won’t be demand for that quality except from the clergy. Up here in the north, most people don’t go for the fancy stuff.”

“I walked through Temple Square on the way here. Northport’s square is set up for executions; why not here?”

“A funny thing happened here. Word somehow reached the healers before the temple knew of King Justin’s murder. The healers all vanished. A couple of young men were captured in a small village inland; appears they didn’t get the word about what was coming, but no one was taken here in Snowport. Four boats disappeared from the harbor the same day, and little canvas bags of coins were left in their place. Funny how not a soul in town noticed the healers leave town nor has any idea where they are now. The Church has been looking high and low without a trace.” Toby sat back and smiled like a cat.

That was good news to Michael, but if the whole Church was looking for them without success, he had no idea how he could find them and get them to Rock Point.

Michael’s face had given him away, and it was obvious to Toby that he was sympathetic to the healers.

“Our high priest is a good man, and we’re a long way from the Great Mother Temple in Min Hollow. It’s possible he hasn’t sent anyone looking in the dozens of fiords up the coast from here. There’re no towns that far north, the winter season is almost impossible to survive up there; if they went there, the escape may be temporary.”

Michael had never tried to connect with another human mind like he’d done with his packhorse, but he wanted to know if Toby was setting some sort of trap. He didn’t exactly read his mind, but his intentions seemed clear. Michael realized he was thinking of his sister who was a healer with the missing group. He wished them good fortune.

Michael decided it was safe to try and work with Toby. “If a fellow whose grandmother was a healer had a few extra line-fishing boats he wasn’t using, he might be able to take a group of people somewhere where the winter wasn’t so bad,” Michael said with a completely straight face.

Toby spoke with caution but smiled as he did. “If a fellow wanted to help, he’d need a reliable crew, folks who weren’t overly fond of killing healers or who had relatives who were healers.”

“He certainly would. Let’s talk about it tomorrow after meeting with the shipwrights.”

Next, Michael went to see Peter of Gold Street. He sold him three of his best remaining pearls at a good price and turned that talk to information about the High Priest Carson.

“One of the finest men I have ever known,” Peter said. “He’s loved here in Snowport. He was born here and understands our ways. I’ll make him something really fine with your pearls. See this Perry’s Hero chain? It’s for him to present to the mayor.”

“Excellent workmanship,” Michael said. A Perry’s Hero award was presented to someone who’d done a special service for the Church. He wondered if there was a connection to the healers’ disappearances.

Michael bought three heavy gold medallions on sturdy gold chains. The workmanship was excellent, but he really wanted that heavy weight of gold to carry a strong
still water
enchantment if he took his boats into treacherous waters of the northern fiords. He spent more on the chains than he earned from the three pearls, but with a chest of treasure back in his room at Black Sand Beach, money seemed the least of his problems.

He walked back to his inn through the cold streets and enjoyed an excellent dinner of rye bread, lobster stew and baked cinnamon-flavored butter tubers. He went to bed early, glad at the comfort of a down filled bed with a stack of many quilts for warmth.