War of Shadows (12 page)

“That’s what makes me nervous,” Connor replied. “I get to be the Wraith Lord’s borrowed body while he plays prosecutor for Pentreath Reese in front of the oldest and most powerful
talishte
on the Continent. I can’t help worrying that the Elders will be wondering how I’d taste as a snack.”

“There are valid reasons to be concerned over tonight’s event,” Penhallow replied. “Fearing that you will become a ‘snack,’ as you put it, is not one of them.”

“I’m the one with warm blood,” Connor said, not feeling reassured.

“Possessed by one of the most powerful
talishte
the Continent has ever seen,” Penhallow reminded him. “I know that hosting Kierken takes a toll on you. But you know better than anyone that he has always protected you in exchange.”

Even when it was his own presence inside me that nearly burned me up and dried me to a husk
, Connor thought, indulging what he considered a moment of well-deserved pique. “That’s true,” he conceded. “But you have no idea how frightening it is on this end of the bargain.”

Penhallow’s expression softened. “Actually, Bevin, I do. Or did you forget that the
kruvgaldur
is a two-way bond?”

Connor felt his cheeks color at the reminder. “I understand that what is being asked of you is difficult, even unreasonable,” Penhallow continued. “You have shown uncommon courage, above and beyond what ought to be asked of you. And I regret that we must ask too much of you yet again.”

“It’s not really like there’s a choice, is there?” Connor replied quietly. “There isn’t anyone else who can do the job. I can, so it falls to me. That’s how it works.”

“I know it’s scant consolation,” Penhallow said, “but you will be privy to something no living mortal has ever seen: the
convocation of the Elders and their judgment on a powerful
talishte
.”

“What if they decide they don’t like the idea of having a mortal witness?” Connor asked, finally getting up the nerve to voice the question that had bothered him all day. “You and the Wraith Lord are very powerful, but if they came after me, could you really promise me I’d make it out alive?”

Penhallow’s gaze met his, and Connor saw just how seriously the
talishte
took his question. “I will protect you with all my power, Connor. Even if I cease to exist. The Wraith Lord, I believe, has made you a similar oath. It’s the most we can promise.”

Connor let out a long breath. “I know, and I’m not ungrateful. I’m just—”

“Frightened,” Penhallow finished for him, placing a firm hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You would hardly be sane or reasonable were you not.”

“The Elders are going to determine Reese’s fate, aren’t they?” Connor asked. The ride to the Wraith Lord’s manor at Lundmyhre would have taken two candlemarks in good weather. In the sleeting rain, it took considerably more. Connor was chilled to the bone.

Penhallow frowned. “The Elders have authority to punish Reese for crimes against immortals. That includes waging war against the Wraith Lord at Valshoa, and attacking my brood on several occasions.”

“I was there,” Connor replied, doing his best to keep his teeth from chattering.

The fact that Reese might be punished for putting the
talishte
in danger rather than for the loss of mortal life was not lost on Connor. “They’ve called him to be sentenced, but they haven’t declared a verdict yet. So there’s the chance that Reese might not be punished at all, isn’t there? Where would that leave us?”

The tightness around Penhallow’s mouth told Connor the
talishte
was far from certain of the outcome. “If the Elders refuse to pass judgment, they might also refuse to place special protection over Reese. Other
talishte
would still be able to destroy him—without fearing the Elders’ wrath.”

They rode with an escort of Penhallow’s
talishte
soldiers and Traher Voss’s mortal fighters until they reached the borders of the Wraith Lord’s lands. Connor followed Penhallow through the tangled undergrowth to Lundmyhre, once a grand manor and now an overgrown ruin.

Cold mist coalesced into the shape of a man. Connor recognized the sense of presence even before the features became distinct. This was Kierken Vandholt,
talishte
, warrior, and Wraith Lord.

To Connor’s surprise, General Dolan and Nidhud of the Knights of Esthrane moved out of the shadows to stand with the Wraith Lord. If Penhallow was surprised, he did not show it.

“Welcome,” the Wraith Lord said. He was of medium height, broad-shouldered, with the stance of a warrior, clad in clothing out of fashion centuries ago. The mist made his features indistinct, but Connor had no problem calling Kierken Vandholt’s face to mind. After all, Vandholt had inhabited his thoughts and possessed his body on more than one occasion.

“Gentlemen,” Penhallow said with a nod to Dolan and Nidhud. He looked back to the Wraith Lord. “To what do we owe the reinforcements?”

The Wraith Lord’s chuckle held little mirth. “Not exactly ‘reinforcements,’ ” he said.

“I’ve withdrawn my soldiers from Valshoa,” Dolan replied, meeting Penhallow’s gaze. “The situation has grown undesirable.”

“I don’t imagine Quintrel was happy about that,” Penhallow said.

Dolan’s mouth tightened. “No. He wasn’t. And I suspect he was even less happy after we left,” he added, withdrawing a black bag from beneath his cloak. “Quintrel used old Valshoan manuscripts to figure out a way to anchor the magic outside of Blaine McFadden. These,” he said with a nod toward the bag, “are what he called ‘presence-crystals,’ artifacts he needed to work the magic necessary to shift the anchor.”

Connor let out a low whistle, then realized he had been audible and fell abruptly silent. Penhallow chuckled. “Eloquently put, Connor.” He looked to Dolan. “Quintrel hadn’t had a chance to do the working yet?”

Dolan shook his head. “He would have needed to kidnap McFadden to make that happen.” He paused. “Anchoring the magic is a strain no one man was meant to bear. If the anchor doesn’t shift, it will eventually kill McFadden.”

Penhallow eyed the bag. “Do you think it’s possible to work the ritual somewhere besides Valshoa? Could you and mages loyal to McFadden create that new anchor?”

“I believe it’s possible,” Dolan replied. “But we would need the right place to make the working, a place of power. Perhaps the crypts beneath Quillarth Castle, or even better, Mirdalur.”

“Blaine tried to bring the magic back at Mirdalur and it nearly killed him,” Connor objected before he could stop himself.

Dolan nodded. “True. But the magic was wild then, and McFadden was unprepared for the working. The crystals, together with the obsidian disks and the restored magic, might yield a very different outcome.”

Dolan returned his attention to Penhallow. “I believe that Quintrel has fallen under the sway of a corrupted artifact,” he said. “A globe with a bound
divi
.”

The Wraith Lord looked up sharply. “A
divi
? What in Raka is Quintrel doing with a
divi
?”

“Nothing good, that’s for certain,” Penhallow replied. “You say it’s affected him?”

Dolan’s expression was grave. “It’s making him unstable and volatile. If he persists—and I think he will—it will drive him mad.”

Penhallow frowned. “What brings you here?”

Dolan looked from Penhallow to the Wraith Lord. “Nidhud told me about what McFadden has done since Valshoa. He would seem to be an honorable contender for power.” He paused. “I would like to propose a deal to McFadden. I will ally my Knights with those Nidhud leads and support him—on one condition.”

“Say on,” the Wraith Lord said warily.

“I will not allow the Knights to be exiled again,” Dolan said. “So in exchange for our support, I would ask that one of the new Lords of the Blood be chosen from among the Knights of Esthrane, and that the Knights hold seats on McFadden’s senior council.”

Penhallow and the Wraith Lord exchanged a glance. “We aren’t the ones who can make that decision, but if Blaine agrees, we’ll support you,” the Wraith Lord replied.

Dolan nodded. “In that case, I will send Nidhud to Glenreith to make our offer. And I will go to Mirdalur.”

“Why Mirdalur?” Connor could not contain his curiosity. Dolan looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Is your servant always so forthright?” he asked Penhallow drolly.

“Always,” Penhallow replied. Connor blushed, but held his ground.

Dolan regarded Connor with amusement. “Mirdalur is an exceptionally powerful place. I am not convinced that its usefulness is over.”

“I’ll send Geir to let Niklas Theilsson know there may be new allies,” Penhallow said. “Once we finish securing Westbain, Connor and I are due to travel to Glenreith.”

“Nidhud will bring word,” Dolan replied. “Travel safely. Donderath is a dangerous place.” With that, he and Nidhud were gone. Connor could not suppress a shiver.
If a
talishte
mage-warrior considers travel dangerous, what does that say for the mortals?

Penhallow turned his attention back to the Wraith Lord. “What should we expect tonight among the Elders?”

“The Elders are assembling at the Circle.
Talishte
loyal to me will bring Reese to us there.” The insubstantial figure turned toward Connor. “I may need to ask to use your form once again,” he said. “I will need you only if we are attacked, and I will do my best to return the form to you unharmed.”

Not far beyond the ruins of the Wraith Lord’s fortress stood an ancient circle of large stones in the center of a forest clearing. Connor had not quite decided whether the stones themselves were magic, but he feared venturing close to them, and hesitated to step within their circle.

The Wraith Lord led them directly into the center of the stones. It was clear they were no accident of nature. The spaces between the huge stone rectangles were even, and their width was uniform. The moon hung directly above one of the tallest stone rectangles, illuminating cryptic carvings.

They waited in the darkness. Connor blinked, and twelve black-robed figures appeared, each wearing a different color
satin mask. The masks hid the entire face, and the color of the masks was duplicated in the gemstone pendants each wore at the throat of their robes.

“Who called us?” The speaker was a tall figure with a deep-red satin mask and a large ruby pendant.

“I did,” the Wraith Lord said. “Pentreath Reese has waged war against me and against Lanyon Penhallow. For that, I demand he be punished. I have brought Penhallow as witness.”

“Lord Vandholt—you have brought a mortal among us.” The speaker was a smaller figure with a saffron-colored mask and pendant. Connor wondered if the speaker were female.

“Penhallow’s servant serves as my host when needed,” the Wraith Lord answered. “It is my right.”

The Wraith Lord had not bothered to ask either Connor or Penhallow to leave behind their weapons, but Connor found that he took little comfort in the sword at his hip. Given the speed with which these oldest
talishte
moved, Connor knew that he could not hope to even draw his blade before they would be on him unless the Wraith Lord possessed him.

“You are not unknown to us, Lanyon Penhallow.” Sapphire-mask said. “Some might say you have a troubling history of inserting yourself into the affairs of mortals.”

If the comment ruffled Penhallow, he did not show it. “I have found it advantageous, not only for my own part but also for the defense of the
talishte
as a whole, to maintain ties to influential mortals,” Penhallow replied. “A word or two in the right ear at court, a small payment here or there, and many problems are solved before they ever begin.”

“Yet you don’t make the same investment into the dealings of your own kind. How interesting.” The onyx-masked figure’s voice was neutral, but there was an edge of implied threat that made the hair on the back of Connor’s neck prickle.

Penhallow shrugged. “I’m not interested in politics. I’ve found, over the centuries, that the things that pose a threat to me also threaten the survival of our kind.”

“What is this threat that is so great, you risk yourself to summon us?” Emerald turned to face Penhallow.

“It is against the law of the Elders for a
talishte
to make an unprovoked attack on another
talishte
,” Penhallow said. “Yet Reese attacked me and my brood in my crypt, burned the safe haven, and destroyed many of my get.”

“He sent armed men into my territory to attack me and my guests,” the Wraith Lord added, “and allied with Vedran Pollard to wage war against Penhallow and myself at Valshoa.”

“Reese would have preferred magic to remain out of reach,” Onyx replied. “He hoped that by attacking you, he could stop Blaine McFadden from restoring the magic. He failed.”

“What has this to do with us? We are
talishte
, not mages.” Saffron’s impatience was clear.

“It has everything to do with us, my lords,” Penhallow said. “When magic functions, we benefit as much as any of the mortals for conveniences small and large. We use magical protections to guard our day places, and ward intruders away. When harvests are good and famine is rare, feeding is better.”

Connor tried not to flinch at that last comment.

“Magic is restored. Why trouble us?” Sapphire challenged. “We want nothing to do with your squabble.”

“I came to ask your judgment on Reese,” the Wraith Lord replied. “Reese’s attacks against me and against Penhallow are a violation of our law. He has defied the Elders.”

“We have only your word for these attacks,” Emerald answered. “It sounds like a personal squabble, hardly a matter for the Elders.”

“Reese sent a team of assassins into my sanctuary,” Penhallow
said. “Reese and Pollard sent an army to besiege the fortress of my associate, Traher Voss, with the express intent to capture me and my servant. Surely an army escalates this far beyond a ‘personal squabble.’ ”

“What would you have us do? Give him the final death?” Ruby challenged. “Place you in protective custody?”

The latter suggestion sounded far more like imprisonment than protection to Connor, who struggled to say nothing.
I’m in way over my head
, he thought.
We’ll be lucky to make it out of here alive
.