Dangerous Waters (36 page)

‘They’ve caught another one?’ Jilseth hadn’t heard.

‘Just yesterday.’ Tornauld grinned. ‘They’ve found another of the corsairs’ watering stops, and troops from Myrist, Taine and Saldiray are riding up and down the coastline looking for more places to set their snares.’

‘And Karpis?’ Jilseth reminded herself that however obnoxious a baron might be, his innocent populace deserved protection from the corsairs.

‘And Karpis,’ Tornauld confirmed.

‘But none of this has any bearing on reality.’ Nolyen was unconvinced. ‘The moons influence the tides but wandering stars in the remotest heavens cannot possibly have any material effect on an event’s outcome.’

‘I don’t suppose that has any bearing on what the Aldabreshi believe,’ Jilseth observed. ‘Do the Caladhrians know of this Archipelagan practise of reading the skies? Surely we could share such knowledge without infringing on our edicts?’

‘Alas, poor Caladhria has few scholars worth the name.’ Nolyen smoothed his beard. ‘Anyone with an unhealthy obsession with books is usually shipped off to Vanam or Col. Isn’t that right, Tornauld?’

The burly wizard wasn’t listening. A sharp line deepened between his dark brows. ‘Madam mage? No longer content to eavesdrop from a distance?’

Jilseth turned in her chair to see that Ely had slipped through the crowded room to listen to their conversation.

‘Take a seat,’ Tornauld offered, sarcastic. ‘Oh, forgive me. You’re running Canfor’s errands now.’ He nodded at the bottle of wine which Ely held. ‘What does Galen think of that?’

Though Ely’s colour rose, she didn’t retreat. ‘You’re scrying the Caladhrian coast, I hear. Even if you won’t warn those unfortunates who’ll see their homes and storehouses ravaged tonight. Not even to repair the damage that Hadrumal’s aloofness has done to wizardry.’ Her contempt was a match for Nolyen’s rising indignation.

Suspicion soured the sweet wine on Jilseth’s tongue. ‘I hope the Hearth Master doesn’t intend raising an alarm.’

What would Planir do if he was so openly defied? How successfully might Kalion argue that merely offering a warning didn’t outrage Hadrumal’s edicts? Was that so very different to passing on the interpretation of the skies which Velindre had given Tornauld?

Jilseth grew more concerned as she realised Ely was hesitating too long before replying.

‘The Hearth Master will act as he sees fit,’ the lissom magewoman said stiffly.

Tornauld wasn’t going to let that evasion pass. ‘Always acting in accordance with the Archmage’s wishes?’

Ely ignored him in favour of challenging Nolyen. ‘Are you still scrying after that trooper who escaped the slavers? To see how far he’s spreading his tales to discredit wizardry?’

Jilseth noticed drinkers at several nearby tables were glancing in their direction, their curiosity caught by this ill-tempered exchange. Before she could warn Ely off openly discussing matters better reserved for the Council chamber, Nolyen had already spoken.

‘What do you make of his present course? Do you think he’s making for Col or Peorle now that the galley’s turned into the Gulf?’

‘You can’t make out his conversations any longer?’ Ely commiserated.

‘If I can’t, nor can Canfor.’ Tornauld’s belligerence dared her to say different.

Ely ignored him again. ‘He’s making for Col. Where else? So many Ensaimin merchant traders have been losing ships at sea to these marauders. The Halferan trooper will be rallying vessels and men to patrol the sea lanes, to lend weight to the Caladhrians’ defiance on land.’

‘Exactly as the Archmage predicted,’ Jilseth said firmly. ‘The mainlanders can take care of themselves once they put their shoulders to the wheel.’

‘Don’t let us keep you.’ Nolyen nodded to the bottle of wine in Ely’s hand. ‘You’re letting the Hearth Master’s wine get warm.’

‘I am not!’ Affronted, Ely looked down at the bottle in her hand.

Unfortunately for her, Nolyen was entirely correct. The green glass was dry, the wine within already matching the day’s heat.

‘A first season apprentice could do better.’ Tornauld mocked.

The bottle turned milky with frost. Nolyen winced. ‘You had better ask for another. That vintage is ruined.’

‘Mind your—’ The bottle shattered in Ely’s hand. The wine, a solid lump of ice, slipped from her lacerated fingers to smash on the floorboards amid the shattered glass.

Smears of blood coloured the frozen wine. Alarmed, Jilseth sprang up, reaching for Ely’s hand. ‘Let me—’

But Ely fled amid cheers and laughter, heedlessly raised according to custom whenever a pot man or serving maid dropped a loaded tray. The affronted sweep of the magewoman’s gown left a trail of melting ice and broken glass.

‘I suppose that wasn’t very kind of us.’ Tornauld was callously amused nonetheless.

‘I’m curious to know why her magic betrayed her.’ Nolyen remarked as conversations resumed around them.

‘It’s not as easy as you might think.’ Jilseth could see more than one mage was gesturing at the shattered glass or towards the door, after Ely. Sympathy for her humiliation seemed balanced with derision.

Jilseth recalled her own shock at learning first hand not to cool a sealed bottle too rapidly. She’d had no notion that even a gentle knock could turn the contents to ice demanding far more space than the water that made it. But Ely was a water mage. her instincts should surely have warned her.

‘Why were you asking her about Col?’ Tornauld emptied the carafe of blush wine between their glasses.

Nolyen leaned closer. ‘That trooper captain Corrain hasn’t sailed into the Gulf of Peorle. He’s heading along the Ensaimin coast.’

‘Where’s he going?’ Tornauld was baffled.

‘Wherever it is, Ely won’t know.’ That was Nolyen’s point. ‘He’s beyond the reach of her scrying. She had no idea that I was lying to her.’

Whereas, Jilseth realised, Ely’s lies to them had distracted her sufficiently to let the wine warm in her hand.

‘So she’s not the fabled scryer that she’d like us to believe,’ Tornauld commented with curt satisfaction.

‘She’s never had any personal dealings with Corrain.’ Jilseth felt obliged to judge Ely fairly. ‘Without holding something once in his possession, focusing her magic over such distances must be a challenge, even with a water affinity.’

‘When will the galley sail beyond your reach?’ Tornauld asked the Caladhrian wizard.

Nolyen was unbothered. ‘If we scry as a nexus, since you’ve met the man—’ he glanced at Jilseth ‘—our spell should reach at least as far as the Great Forest.’

‘What could they possibly go seeking there?’ Tornauld shook his head, perplexed.

Jilseth frowned. ‘Corrain’s companion looks Forest born, but the Folk have no quarrel with the Aldabreshi. Archipelagan traders don’t sail so far north, never mind corsairs.’

‘Of course!’ Tornauld snapped his fingers.

‘What?’ Jilseth saw his outburst drawing curious eyes.

‘I was watching Kalion and his nexus yesterday.’ Tornauld was too exultant to lower his voice.

‘Scrying on the Hearth Master?’ Jilseth wondered uneasily who at nearby tables had heard that admission.

‘Only when he summons his lackeys.’ Tornauld was unrepentant. ‘To see if Canfor and Ely are spying on the Archmage.’

Nolyen nodded his agreement. ‘What were they doing, Kalion and the rest?’

‘Using a diamond pendulum over a map.’ Tornauld leaned back, folding his arms in satisfaction. ‘They’re trying to find the galley that way.’

‘Quintessential magic, and not an easy working at that. All to keep track of an errant slave? I wonder what Kalion suspects.’ Something that meant losing sight of the galley seriously threatened Ely’s composure, Jilseth concluded. But what?

‘How were they faring?’ Nolyen asked with interest. ‘With the pendulum.’

But Tornauld was looking towards the door. ‘Here’s Merenel at long last.’

‘Good day to you.’ More handsome than pretty, she was taller than average, with olive skin and curling black hair to proclaim her Tormalin blood. After a recent journey to Suthyfer, she’d taken to wearing breeches, shirt and jerkin rather than gowns. Many women did so on the islands in the eastern ocean, or so it was said.

Jilseth wasn’t convinced that it was the maroon linen tunic fitting so closely to her generous curves which was drawing so much attention their way. Not when the simmering dispute between the Archmage and the Hearth Master was such favoured gossip.

‘Let me get more wine.’ Tornauld raised a hand to attract Master Noak’s attention.

‘Not on my account.’ Merenel made no move to sit. ‘The Archmage wants to see us.’

Jilseth swallowed the last of her wine. ‘Of course.’

Nolyen ran a nervous hand through his wavy brown hair. ‘Is there something amiss?’

Merenel raised her brows. ‘Should there be?’

‘Come on.’ Jilseth was already heading for the door. ‘Where is he?’

‘In the Physic Garden.’

Outside, Merenel headed down the gentle slope of the high road. As Jilseth fell into step beside her, she could hear Nolyen and Tornauld a few paces behind.

‘Could you see if Kalion’s nexus was able to focus the pendulum?’

‘It didn’t look like it.’ Tornauld was more thoughtful than triumphant. ‘I’m not sure that particular nexus has the right balance for quintessential magic.’

‘In balancing the respective strengths of the four affinities?’ Nolyen queried. ‘Or on account of differences in proficiency?’

‘I think it’s a question of temperament.’ Tornauld considered this as they walked on. ‘Ely has the talent but she’s always lacked confidence in her own skills. She’s followed Kalion’s lead for years and Galen commands what loyalty she has left over. Can she hold her own in a nexus when Canfor’s so overbearing?’

Their common affinity with elemental air did nothing to lessen Tornauld’s dislike of the white-haired mage.

Nolyen was silent for a few more paces. ‘A good many texts on quintessential magic also advise balancing a nexus equally with two men and two women, as we four do.’

Merenel looked over her shoulder. ‘Sannin holds her own in the circle with Planir, Rafrid and Herion.’

Tornauld chuckled. ‘Sannin could hold her own against the entire Council.’

‘Is there much study of quintessential magic in Suthyfer?’ Jilseth asked Merenel.

‘Not much,’ she admitted. ‘Master Usara is more interested in trying to fathom why elemental magic and aetheric enchantments are so irreconcilable.’

‘I thought the wizards and the adepts were finding ways to work together,’ Tornauld objected.

‘Wizards and adepts are exploring how their different spells might complement each other,’ Merenel corrected him. ‘The magics remain fundamentally opposed.’

‘Trying to square that circle doesn’t seem a worthwhile use of Master Usara’s intellect.’ Jilseth knew that many of the Council hoped to see him as Stone Master, if Planir ever yielded that office. She had even contemplated making a visit to Suthyfer, to see if Master Usara’s insights offered any new perspective on her own affinity.

Making the arduous journey would be a waste of time and effort if his attentions had strayed to that pointlessly intractable puzzle. Jilseth couldn’t decide if she was more relieved or disappointed.

‘How far can aetheric enchantments reach,’ Nolyen wondered aloud, ‘compared to a scrying?’

Jilseth guessed he was wondering if Artifice could secure some insight into Corrain’s inexplicable voyage.

‘Between adept and adept?’ Merenel considered the matter. ‘Easily as far as a scrying. As far as a bespeaking wrought between mages and beyond. But without aetheric learning on both sides, as I understand it, an adept can only send their thoughts to someone they already know very well indeed.’

‘Not so different to scrying then, for all the differences between our magics.’ Nolyen sounded reassured.

They walked on in silence, absorbed in individual contemplation. As they entered the alley leading to the physic garden, Jilseth gestured to unlock the gate.

Within the enclosing walls, the air was heavy with the scent of myriad flowers, alive with the hum of bees. Planir was cutting back a tangle of honeysuckle threatening to overwhelm an espaliered apple tree.

‘Did anyone take note of you coming here?’

Nolyen was taken aback. ‘I don’t know, Archmage.’

‘No one paid us heed.’ Jilseth hastily qualified her answer. ‘I don’t believe so, anyway.’

‘Unless Ely’s scrying after us.’ Tornauld glowered. ‘With Canfor drawing our words along the breezes.’

‘I’ve nothing to say that Master Kalion’s friends cannot hear.’ Planir looked around as though acknowledging unseen watchers before turning to the four of them.

‘I have decided that you will work with Master Kalion’s nexus. Exchange your insights into quintessential magic for whatever Galen, Ely and Canfor can offer. You’ll benefit by furthering your understanding of your own elemental affinity and that of your fellow wizards who were born to other disciplines.’

Tornauld gaped. ‘Archmage?’

Jilseth shared his astonishment. ‘May we ask what prompts this request?’

Not that there seemed to be any room for refusal, and that was unlike Planir.

‘I’m seeing too much rancour and acrimony in Hadrumal,’ the Archmage said crisply. ‘I’m hearing of quarrels in the quadrangles when a handful of pupil mages declares for Kalion and the cause of intervention on the mainland while another gaggle of apprentices proclaims their support for me and the justice of Hadrumal’s detachment.’

Nolyen nodded, troubled. ‘Wizardry cannot thrive amid division.’

Planir startled them with a chuckle. ‘On the contrary, division is an excellent thing. Why do you suppose I spend so much of my time encouraging every mage, from highest to lowest, to pursue their individual passions, to travel wherever their fascinations might take them? Why do you suppose I urge anyone chafed by Hadrumal’s harness to see what free rein Suthyfer offers?’

His expression grew more serious. ‘It’s factions of mages banding together that would threaten wizardry most, if I ever allowed them to become established. Master Kalion and I are agreed on that, even if his preferred solution is everyone abiding by the Archmage’s dictates.’