Dangerous Waters (27 page)

Kusint nodded. ‘With magic swelling the sails, we’ll return in half the time.’

‘Where will you find such a ship,’ Zurenne challenged. ‘Never mind pay for its hire?’

Corrain’s grin unnerved her. ‘Corsair ships are the fastest. We’ll take one of those.’

Stranger or not, Zurenne looked to Kusint for explanation.

‘We know where the raiders land to take on water—’

‘Once we’ve cut down the bastard Archipelagans, we’ll offer their rowers their freedom,’ Corrain said with satisfaction, ‘in return for a summer’s service. They’ll see us to Solura and back before Solstice.’

Zurenne was already shaking her head. ‘Halferan cannot raise a force to fight corsairs for a galley.’

‘No,’ Corrain agreed, ‘but Saldiray, Myrist and Taine have troopers to be reckoned with, aye, and Karpis and Tallat.’

Zurenne scowled at him. ‘Their lordships of Karpis and Tallat seek to carve up Halferan between them. Haven’t you heard?’

But Corrain was still grinning. ‘No baron can act without men to back him and I know those barony’s guard captains of old. They’ll help us for the sake of their own kin living along the shoreline.’

Despite herself, a tantalising vision filled Zurenne’s thoughts. She recalled Jilseth’s magic stripping Baron Karpis’s men of their chainmail. Her pleasure at his humiliation turned to resentment. The lady wizard had done that so easily. How little magic it would have cost the Archmage to save her beloved husband.

She recalled one of Halferan’s favourite sayings. A man can stand by the river and wish for a fish or go home to weave a net. But the net he had woven had been the death of him.

‘Will you tell these barons or their captains that you intend to suborn Soluran magecraft?’

Corrain hesitated. ‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Telling them we know how to strike at the raiders should secure their aid,’ Kusint said quickly.

‘Once we bring back a wizard, do you imagine they will argue the point?’ That wicked grin spread across Corrain’s face again.

Could this mad plan possibly succeed? Zurenne shook her head. ‘Lord Licanin will never permit this.’

‘He’s not Halferan’s guardian yet,’ Corrain pointed out.

‘Don’t be a fool.’ Zurenne narrowed her eyes at him. ‘He will be as soon as midsummer when the parliament approves his grant. Whatever I do between now and then will determine my role in my children’s future. Such folly as this could see them taken away from me. We’re wholly in his hands until Lady Ilysh is wed.’

‘Then let me be wed.’

The two men sprang forward as if a dog had snapped at their ankles.

Appalled, Zurenne saw Ilysh standing in the hallway.

‘What are you doing? Where is your sister?’ As she spoke, she was belatedly relieved to see all the other doors to the hallway closed; to both the girls’ bedchambers, to the rooms opposite given over to clothing stores and to their servants since no sons of the barony needed them.

‘Go to your room, Ilysh.’ Zurenne was on her feet. ‘This is no concern of yours.’

‘Yes it is. I am the heiress to Halferan.’ The girl’s voice shook, colour rising on her cheekbones. ‘I don’t want to hear the maids weeping because their villages have been raided. I don’t want anyone else’s father killed by these corsairs.’

‘Lysha—’ Zurenne’s heart was breaking.

‘I don’t want anyone else telling us what we can do and where we can go, even inside our manor, or what dresses to wear or what music to play.’ Ilysh’s grief gave way to anger. ‘Not even Lord Licanin. He knows nothing about us.’

Now Zurenne was growing cross. ‘You must have a guardian.’

‘Why?’ Ilysh shot back.

Zurenne wasn’t having this defiance. ‘Because it is the law!’

‘The law gave us to Master Minelas.’ Ilysh’s contempt was palpable.

Whatever the furious girl said, her eyes accused her mother. Zurenne took an irate step forward. ‘Who would you give yourself to, you silly little fool? And me, and Neeny? As soon as you are wed, we must submit to whoever it is!’

‘To someone chosen by Lord Licanin?’ retorted Ilysh. ‘Will I even be allowed to meet him before he cuts my wedding plait? Will Halferan be traded away to suit Licanin and his allies in the barons’ parliament?’

‘Ilysh!’ Once again, her accusations stabbed Zurenne to the heart.

‘I have no father to choose my husband as my heart might wish it,’ Ilysh said bitterly. ‘So let me be wed and before midsummer, to someone we can trust here in Halferan. Then no one can tell us what to do anymore. We can fetch a Soluran wizard to kill the corsairs and no one can do anything to stop us!’

‘I could—’ Corrain licked his lips. ‘I could wed Lady Ilysh—’

Zurenne sprang forward and slapped Corrain’s face with all her strength. As her hand bounced back, her rings caught in his hair. As she tore herself free, he grabbed her wrist with a stable yard oath.

‘You swine!’ She spat full in his face. ‘You’re no better than him. Claiming to serve Halferan when you only serve your own lusts! I know your reputation of old, bedding every woman fool enough to fall for your lies. Unspeakable!’

As she raised her free hand to claw at Corrain’s face, Kusint stepped in to seize her wrist.

‘My lady, I believe you do him disservice.’ Though Kusint was looking askance at the Caladhrian.

‘A proxy marriage!’ Corrain threw Zurenne’s hand back at her and Kusint immediately let her go. ‘To be dissolved when she’s of an age to marry a man worthy of her and the barony.

‘If you think I would lay a finger—’ His face twisted, repelled. ‘I only offer the protection in law afforded by marriage, no more. Then neither Lord Licanin nor any other baron need be appointed as Halferan’s guardian. No one could ever take your children from you!’

For a moment he couldn’t continue. ‘Granted I have bedded plenty of women and none too wisely at times. I paid for Starrid’s wife with bruises and humiliation. But I never—’ His voice roughened as he struggled to find words fit for Zurenne and Ilysh’s ears. ‘I never took a slice from an uncut loaf!’ he said furiously.

So he didn’t share Minelas’s proclivities. What was that to her?

‘I will not countenance such a thing.’ Zurenne plucked torn hairs from the settings of her rings with savage precision.

‘Think on it, my lady.’ Corrain ground his teeth, flushed with resentment at being so grossly misunderstood. ‘I would be responsible in law for bringing this wizard here. The parliament would have no cause to remove you from your daughters’ lives. I will face whatever penalties might follow, for my dead lord’s sake. I already owe Lord Halferan my death in his service. I owe you no less, nor Lady Ilysh and Lady Esnina.’

His fervour unnerved Zurenne. She shook her head.

‘Mama!’ Ilysh cried out in reproach.

‘If you can gather a force from the coastal baronies, to seize a corsair ship, then you may go in search of this wizard.’ She would not lightly cast aside that possibility, if there was the remotest chance it would succeed. ‘That is as much of this madness as I will countenance. Now, be gone, all of you. Not you, Lysha!’

As the two men quickly retreated to the stairs and down to the great hall, Zurenne grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her into the withdrawing room. The girl’s face was alight with defiance.

Zurenne said nothing. She wasn’t going to give Lysha another opportunity to attack her. She waited until she heard the door at the bottom of the stairwell close.

‘Go to your room and dress,’ she said quietly. ‘Ring for Jora and Raselle. Then we will choose some music and practise.’

Ilysh looked uncertainly at her. This wasn’t the reaction she had expected. Zurenne raised her eyebrows in silent query. Ilysh fled.

Zurenne walked over to the window and looked down into the manor courtyard. She watched Corrain and Kusint striding towards the guard hall. They weren’t wasting time.

Even if they succeeded, Lord Licanin would call this madness. What would the Archmage say, come to that? Zurenne quailed at the thought of confronting either man.

A treacherous thought soothed her fears. Distasteful as the prospect was, she could divert Lord Licanin’s wrath by claiming those two vagabonds had duped or menaced her. She was nothing but a helpless widow.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Trydek’s Hall, Hadrumal

43rd of Aft-Spring

J
ILSETH STEELED HERSELF
to knock on the tower door. This was Planir’s private study, not his audience room. Everyone knew that his bedchamber lay beyond the connecting door.

Ely would assume that was her destination. Jilseth couldn’t decide which part of that notion was more insulting; that she couldn’t look after Hadrumal’s interests without the Archmage’s assistance or that she would secure such help with sexual favours.

She discarded that irritation as a thought creased her brow. Ely could only focus a scrying spell on one of them at a time. Would she have followed Jilseth here or already be scrying on the Archmage?

Jilseth decided to mention that to Planir. If one of them wanted some privacy, the other could draw Ely’s suspicions, or Kalion’s, so that he would direct her magic to follow it.

As she raised her hand to knock, Jilseth hesitated, hearing voices within. But the Archmage had summoned her.

‘Enter!’ Planir answered the rap of her knuckles.

Jilseth lifted the latch and went in. It was a serenely comfortable room. Bookcases framed tall windows with upholstered chairs set either side of the hearth and a polished table and ladder-backed chairs on the other side of the room. A matching sideboard offered crystal glasses and jewel-like decanters as well as a silver tisane service mellowed with age and use. Simple watercolours of flowers and birds decorated the walnut panelled walls.

‘Cloud Master Rafrid, good day to you. Master Herion.’ She greeted the two men sat at the table with Planir.

‘Jilseth, always a pleasure.’ Rafrid smiled genially. Not overly tall, he sat long backed and broad shouldered in a midnight blue woollen tunic. When Jilseth had first begun her studies, his tousled hair had been as dark as midnight. Now it was the pale grey of a clouded dawn, his face weathered.

‘Good day to you.’ Herion smiled amiably, a mild-faced man with faded brown hair, perhaps a handful of years younger than Planir or Rafrid. He was a mage who felt no need to blazon his water affinity, wearing a rust-coloured doublet and grey breeches.

‘Madam Sannin.’

Strictly speaking, Jilseth need not offer the courtesy of that title to the woman sitting across from Planir. Sannin held no office whereas Herion was the Master of Hiwan’s Hall, guiding apprentice and pupil mages of all four affinities and with a broad range of ability.

However anyone studying wizardry soon knew of Sannin and not merely for her glorious chestnut tresses, her shapely figure flattered by her elegant gowns in every vibrant shade of red.

For the last decade and more she’d travelled between Hadrumal and the mainland, wherever and whenever some curiosity hinted at an elemental mystery as yet unfathomed by wizardry. Pupil mages would swap stories of their studies being sent down unexpected paths after Sannin had accosted their mentor. Apprentices longed for such a privilege.

Jilseth had also heard more than one middle-ranked fire mage, indiscreet after a glass of white brandy, looking forward to the day when she might serve as their Hearth Mistress.

‘You’ve been working quintessential magic.’ Jilseth was surprised into uttering her sudden realisation aloud.

Planir’s smile deepened the creases around his eyes. ‘You think we should let Kalion run around stirring up trouble without keeping an eye on him?’

Sannin laughed with rich amusement. ‘Forgive me.’ She waved an apologetic hand. ‘But the notion of our esteemed Hearth Master running...’

Jilseth couldn’t help a smile. The thought of Kalion hitching up his flowing mantle to scurry across a courtyard was funny. Which was all very well but Planir had summoned her. ‘You sent for me, Archmage?’

He nodded. ‘Indeed—’

A sonorous bell interrupted him. It tolled a second time, and a third, the sound rolling across the rooftops to echo back from Hadrumal’s towers.