Wren Journeymage (25 page)

“Teressa said the first thing she learned about being a princess is that people don’t see
you
, they see a crown. And they start expecting things.”

“That pretty much covers it. So.” Connor threw the staff up again, and caught it with the other hand. “The result is, the farther away I got, the more I thought about everyone and everything at home, and the less I found of myself, because ‘myself’ is Connor Shaltar of Siradayel, for better or for worse, who misses the mountains of home. Whether or not I find out who my ancestors were, and what kind of magic they had, doesn’t seem to matter anymore. It still won’t show me how to, well, tame whatever it is I have.”

Wren said, “Mountains again, right?”

Connor tossed the spinning staff from hand to hand. “Yes. It only seems to come to me in the mountains, but I discovered that fact when you and I traveled to Allat Los a long time ago. I guess I will never find a place, so I should go home and
make
a place for myself.”

Wren nodded, looking down at her dusty sandals scuffing the rocky trail.

Connor
has
found
his
direction
,
and
I
need
to
make
a
decision
.
No
,
I
already
made
it
.
So
stop
trying
not
to
think
about
it
.
Do
it
.

And Connor said slowly, “Wren. When you get that look, I know you’re up to something, and you know that nobody will like it.”

Wren laughed for about a heartbeat, but then all the humor faded away, despite the interesting harbor just below the next two bends, despite the cool breeze off the sea not just carrying the familiar briny smell, but enticing and spicy food scents.

Despite having Connor walking right beside her, alive and well.

She said, “At first I thought we’d be taking that map and all the things that boy said to other governments, and handing over the problem. But there isn’t anyone to hand it to. At least not that we could get to fast, and we’ve already lost several days. Is there?”

Connor frowned. “Purba is the closest, maybe four or five days’ sailing if the wind is good, but the government of Purba has a dismal reputation. I can’t see them stirring on anyone’s behalf. The other islands are all too small. Are you thinking of going home? By magic transport, I mean?”

“That was my first idea. Then I remembered that Halfrid isn’t even there. And I can’t scry him because of that ward on me. What can Tyron do? Nothing, because he can’t leave Meldrith. So that leaves me.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to stop in the road, the quarterstaff gripped tightly in his hands. “Wren. You are not thinking of going out to Tomad yourself.”

Wren walked right on past him. “Who else is going to?” And when he ran the few steps to catch up, looking exasperated as well as worried, she said, “Andreus is going to launch that fleet soon. And you know what that means? War all over again, but not just with one kingdom. With
three
. I don’t know anyone else to transfer to, and how would I get them to listen? I’m afraid they’d be just like these Okidainos. It’s like no one wants to bother with problems elsewhere. They’re only interested in problems at home.”

Connor sighed. “Wren, how are you going to accomplish anything against a gigantic pirate fleet without at least an army? And a navy.”

“But those don’t work. Not against
him
. Just a lot of people get killed. We already learned that during the war he brought to Meldrith. What defeated him was the unexpected. You should know that if anyone does. And the unexpected worked against those pirates. Bad as I was, the spells I had time to think out and prepare
did
fend them off.”

“Wren—”

Wren couldn’t bear to look at Connor. She didn’t want to see him angry with her, because the very idea hurt so much.

So she talked fast, aiming her words at the road, the sky, and out at the peacefully glimmering sea. “You were right about the chickens. I see it now. I just have to
make
more chicken plans—not fumble them by accident. The plans have to be unexpected to the enemy, not to me. Plans that don’t fight or kill or destroy, but will make such a big mess that Andreus’s fleet won’t be able to launch.”

Wren couldn’t believe she was saying it, but once she hadn’t believed that lovely, peaceful Meldrith would be ruined by a war. That Laris, who loved jokes more than anything, would be left lying dead in the snow at the hand of a sorcerer who never even gave her a second glance.

“Wren, he’s collecting mages as
wall
decorations
.”

“Yes, but though he might have that island warded against Halfrid and the Mage Council, I know it’s not warded against me because he wanted me as a prisoner. And he would never expect me to actually go to Tomad, so if I’m quick and smart I can go in and do my magic and sneak out and he will never know I was there. But here’s the important thing, the thing I can’t get away from no matter how hard my mind tries to skitter away.” She tapped her head. “
That
fleet
must
not
sail
. Or at least not until after we can find someone important who will raise armies and navies and whatever else it takes to stop him.”

“Wren! Listen! His potential for evil far outstrips your imagination. He knows more evil spells than you know funny, unexpected ones. It’s dangerous.”

Wren’s heart beat faster, and her mouth was dry. She said, “Yes. But I can’t get past the other truth: I’m the only one here, right now, in the right place at the right time.” Then she turned to face him at last, and made a discovery: he wasn’t angry, and he certainly wasn’t derisive, like that horrible Hawk

He was worried, and determined—and scared.

“Connor, you aren’t arguing me out of it, you’re arguing yourself into helping me. Aren’t you?”

He gave her a strange half-wince, half-grin. “I think I’m getting my arguments ready for the others.”

“Others?”

Connor spread his hands. “You need a ship to sail in, right? And Captain Tebet told me once that she’s always had a weakness for lost causes. She said her entire crew is made up of people someone else called lost causes, but she believes each one of them is very good at something.”

Wren danced around, sending dust up in clouds. “You’re coming with me! You’re coming with me!”

“You’d have to tie me in a sack and throw me in the harbor to stop me,” Connor said, then sneezed twice. “Can we leave the dust?”

They sped down the last of the hill toward the harbor, as above them the jackdaws lifted on silent wings, and flew away over the sea.

When Tyron entered Halfrid’s private chamber, the senior mage indicated an unfamiliar young woman slouched in a chair, arms folded, round face scowling.

This had to be Sanga, the mage who had taken Falin’s place. Halfrid had obviously caught her in the act, and had removed whatever illusion she’d put on herself to look like Falin.

“Ah, there you are.” Halfrid’s smile was grim. “What did the queen have to say?”

Tyron had been considering how to report his conversation with Teressa and the one he had with Hawk afterward. As he looked from Halfrid to the angry mage, he realized that Halfrid wouldn’t really want this person hearing what amounted to state business. Halfrid had asked his question just to mention the word ‘queen.’

“Queen Teressa was extremely angry about what had happened to her friend Wren,” Tyron said. “In fact, I can promise that she would far rather deal with this situation under royal law than leave it to us.”

Sanga sat upright, red flooding her face. “I didn’t do
anything
to Wren! I told you the truth!”

“Did you, now?” Halfrid asked. “Well, we can let the queen determine that.”

Sanga shifted her gaze from side to side, but there was no escape. Halfrid’s chamber was not only warded with many spells, but also, the tingle of magic in the air made it clear that he’d placed some sort of ward on the chair so Sanga could not move from it.

She kicked her feet against the rungs, her angry face crimson. “I only put the tracer on Wren’s stone and the ward against her scrying. That’s not harm. Not really. I did it to all three—” She stopped, snorted, and sat back.

“All three who?”

“Nobody you know.” Sanga sulked, then said in a dispirited voice, “Two prentice Guild mages. One from the Brennic Marches, and one from Fil Gaen.
He
wanted young mages, he said. I hoped he’d be satisfied with them, since I didn’t get Hawk Rhiscarlan. Then Wren came, and I thought if I got her, he’d . . . free . . . Grenya.” Sanga squeezed her eyes shut, but tears escaped, running down her face. “He said he’d kill my sister if I didn’t do his bidding.”

Tyron watched, appalled. He couldn’t tell if she was faking or not—or which one would be worse.

“Tell us about Hawk,” Halfrid asked.

Sanga gulped, and wiped her eyes. “I went to Rhiscarlan first. Like I was supposed to. But I tripped one of Hawk’s wards.” She made a half-hearted gesture of insult. “Hawk’s guards are
fast
. They caught up with me before I could get away on foot. I told Hawk everything. He said because of my sister he would let me go, but if I set foot back in Rhiscarlan,
he’d
turn me into a gargoyle. I felt the wards against me as soon as I left. But Andreus still had Grenya as a prisoner, and he told me to watch for Meldrithi mages—naming Tyron, and Wren, along with you, and Mistress Leila, and a couple of others. So I went to Hroth Falls. Tricked Falin. Did her work better than she does. That place was a disgusting mess! Paint all over! Nobody took any harm.”

“Wren did,” Tyron said.

“No, she didn’t!”

“You were going to send her to Andreus,” Halfrid said sternly.

“Well, yes. That is, I wavered about it. She was talking, and I liked her, and I couldn’t do it, so I just put the ward on her scry stone, and then I slept in the next day and hoped she’d be gone. And she was!”

“And so you warded her against scrying?”

Sanga hung her head. “I—I had to report her to Andreus. I was afraid he’d find out if I didn’t send her, and he’d do something terrible to Grenya! Andreus can’t enter Hroth Falls. There are strong wards against him. Hawk Rhiscarlan told me that Queen Idres herself put the tracer-wards against Andreus—if he walks in, he’ll lose all his magic. I wish he would!”

“So do we all,” Halfrid said. “Continue.”

“Well, Andreus said to make sure that Wren was boomed aboard one of the free traders, and to let him know the name. He’d catch up with her later. That didn’t seem so bad, and I knew how to contact the boomers, through a clerk in the Harbormaster’s office. He takes bribes to do things. I bribed him on account of those other two mages I mentioned. I contacted him, and described Wren, and I’m sure she got boomed, but still she’d have a chance to get away, don’t you see? And if she did, he couldn’t blame me and hurt Grenya.”

Halfrid frowned, turning Tyron’s way.

So far Sanga’s story matched Hawk’s, but Tyron sensed she was leaving something important out. He made a quick hand sign, to which Halfrid returned a tiny nod of agreement.

Halfrid said, “But you acted against fellow mages. On the orders of Andreus, whose motives cannot possibly be construed as anything but harmful. I very much fear you shall have to be remanded to the Mage Council.”

Sanga tried to leap up, fell back, then her hands wove in the air, but Tyron felt the magic distort, sending a flutter of nausea through him.

“I didn’t do anything
really
bad! I could have killed that Falin! Andreus told me to, but instead I lied to him.”

“Falin was shape-changed into a pear tree,” Halfrid explained to Tyron. “She’s recovering in the healer’s chambers now.”

Sanga’s eyes were puffy and red. “I did it to save my sister!”

Halfrid sighed. “All right, you’ve mentioned this sister several times. Tell us about her.”

Sanga’s tears ran freely again, falling into her lap. “My sister Grenya is the one who trained me. She was trained by our grandmother. We do all the magic for our valley. We don’t need any mages from your old Council poking their noses everywhere.”

“The Council protects, it does not attack,” Halfrid said gently. “But that can be addressed another time. Continue. What happened to your sister? How did she come to Andreus’s notice?”

Sanga sniffed. “My sister wanted this magic book. Containing more powerful transformation spells, ones that would be permanent. Just as a defense,” she added quickly, her sulky expression back. “On account of—well, some trouble at home. We thought, or Grenya thought, she could take care of the problem, and no one in your nosy old Council would know—oh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, the book was a lure. For mages who ignored your Council’s rules about transformations, I guess. And you don’t have to say the obvious, because I already know,” she added, angry again. Then Sanga sniffed defiantly. “Anyway, this book was a trap. When it came into our hands and we tried to use it, a ward seized us and we ended up transported somewhere. Andreus told us who he was, said Grenya could help him in his plans, or be a frog on his wall.”

Halfrid looked grim. Tyron felt danger tighten the back of his neck.

“We had heard of Andreus, of course, during that war you had up here. Grenya spoke up. She said she’d rather be a frog. I don’t think she believed him, see, and she was demanding he send us home when without any warning at all he transformed her, using that very same book we spent our entire earnings to buy! He turned her into a frog-monster, and set her on this high stone wall overlooking some harbor somewhere. Then he told me what he’d do—push her off so she’d shatter below—if I didn’t do what he said. He told me the rewards if I did what I was told. I was to trap Hawk, or one of the rest of you, and any other mages. He taught me the ward spell against scrying. And if I cooperated, my sister would go free.”