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Authors: Angus Wells

Dark Magic (10 page)

BOOK: Dark Magic
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Then the door opened and Calandryll recognized the source of the freesword’s hesitancy: Katya entered, a dampened cloak about her shoulders, the hood thrown back to reveal the flaxen splendor of her hair. She looked at them, her grey eyes solemn, then lighting with laughter as she smiled and said, “So. While I attend needful duties you three sit drinking ale.”

Menelian rose, bowing graciously. Bracht was already on his feet, his dour expression gone, burned off by her smile.

“We spoke of the Chaipaku,” he said, “and I got to fearing that . . .”

“They might come for me?” The warrior woman shook her head. “No, not yet. And with all my folk about me? And that pompous vexillan’s soldiers, too? Sit down, Bracht. No! While you’re on your feet, fill me a mug and bring me a platter of that meat.”

“My daughter, Katya,” Tekkan said. “Katya, this is Menelian, a sorcerer in the Tyrant’s employ.”

She smiled at the mage, murmuring a greeting. It occurred to Calandryll, as she draped her cloak carelessly over a chair and took a place beside her father, that she enjoyed the subservience of the Kern as he dutifully forked food onto a plate and filled a tankard with ale, bringing both to her like some serving man, or love-struck swain. The sorcerer, too, he saw, studied her with open admiration.

“My thanks,” she said as Bracht delivered her a platter and a mug, stretching leather-clad legs toward the fire, light glinting bright off the fine mail of her hauberk, “this is better fare than Quindar offers.”

Bracht said, “Quindar?” in a tone that announced suspicion of so casual a use of the vexillan’s first name.

“Aye, Quindar ek’Nyle.” Katya smiled. “And most helpful since word came from Menelian.”

The wizard succeeded in bowing from a sitting position and said, “I offer what aid I can, Lady.”

“Which is much, I think.” Katya’s smile was radiant and Calandryll saw Bracht’s face flush with jealous anger as Menelian beamed a reply. Dimly, as if dredged from some deep and almost forgotten receptacle in his mind, he remembered that once he had experienced that same jealousy when Nadama den Ecvin had favored Tobias with such smiles. Now Nadama’s face was blurred in his memory and he felt only a vague alarm that the Kern’s love of Katya might jeopardize their quest as she said, “Since your man brought word, Quindar has granted us freedom of the harbor. Even set his men to helping us, so that lanterns are strung and repairs already started.”

“That’s good news,” said Tekkan.

“Aye.” Katya nodded, glancing at Bracht as she added, “Though I’d sooner have stayed with the warboat than taken dinner with Quindar.”

Calandryll saw the Kern’s flush darken, the muscles lining his jaw bunch tight as he ground his teeth. In other circumstances so dramatic a reaction from a man more usually taciturn might have amused him; now he felt only frustration with the freesword, and with Katya for the game she seemed to play. “We’ve news,” he said, his tone ominous enough that Katya’s face grew solemn.

Succinctly, Menelian outlined their conversation, his words freezing the smile on Katya’s lips, her eyes growing stormy grey as she heard him out. When he was finished, she nodded and said solemnly, “If all goes well, we can be ready to sail before two days are passed.”

“It should be enough.” The sorcerer nodded. “Do the gods favor us, you’ll be gone before Quindar receives
orders to apprehend you. And in the other matter”—his lips stretched in a thin smile—“I’ll do what I can to delay the hunt.”

The flirtatious gaiety that had possessed Katya was dissolved by the ghoulish threat of the revenant. Her own smile was no longer bright, but become grim, and Calandryll saw her suppress a shudder. Still, he was surprised to see her look to Bracht, not Menelian, as she murmured, “I’d not thought such creatures existed. In Vanu they are tales to frighten children.”

Kern and Kand spoke together. Bracht said, “Ahrd willing, we’ll leave her behind,” while Menelian said, “They seldom do. Only the foulest madmen raise them.”

“And likely stay ahead of her,” Bracht said.

“And I’ll use my magic to confuse her,” said Menelian.

“And if she finds us I’ll slay her. Somehow.”

“Though I’ll likely keep her off your path. Would that I might accompany you, to ward you.”

Calandryll looked from freesword to sorcerer, torn between amusement and a feeling of disgust. Had he once vied so with his brother over a woman? Did neither realize that the import of their quest outweighed Katya’s smile? Or would they each boast away the hours until the revenant came, or Xenomenus sent word to bring them prisoner to Nhur-jabal? Would Katya allow that?

His answer came on her widespread yawn. “Forgive me,” she said, “but while you talked here, I worked; and now I’m mightily tired.”

Instantly, Menelian was on his feet. “I’ve rooms at your disposal, though I’d ask you to linger a moment. Your father spoke of a magical stone . . .”

Katya glanced at Tekkan, and when he nodded, she drew the dull red fragment from beneath her shirt.

“This?”

The sorcerer stepped closer, his eyes moving from the stone to the collar of her hauberk, where tanned
flesh was exposed. Bracht frowned as he asked, “May I?” extending a tentative hand.

Katya ducked her head and Menelian touched the stone, eyes closing a moment. From between his fingers, Calandryll saw a faint red light glow, then fade as the wizard released his grip.

“Rare, indeed,” Menelian said softly, “and imbued with a singular purpose. The holy men of Vanu must possess much power—this is, as you say, a lodestone of the occult. None in Kandahar could create such a thing.”

“It guides us true?” Bracht’s voice was harsh, his eyes angry as they fixed on the mage.

“It is locked with another,” Menelian said, addressing the Kern, but his gaze on Katya as she slid the gem back beneath her shirt, “and in such a way as must surely hold you on course.”

“To Lysse, then,” Bracht said. “Away from here.”

“So it would seem,” agreed Menelian, a measure of regret in his voice as he studied the woman. Then he smiled, shifting his gaze to enfold the others. “Allow me to show you to your chambers. The hour is, indeed, late.”

“Aye.” Tekkan rose, his weathered features grave. “And we’d best make an early start.”

“Come then.” Menelian offered Katya his arm. “I’ve chambers enough for all. Four?”

The warrior woman glanced at Bracht and said lightly: “Aye, four.”

Bracht’s face was sullen as he watched her take the sorcerer’s proffered arm.

Menelian escorted them to rooms on the upper level of the house, set side by side along the inner wall, with tall windows opening onto balconies that overlooked a garden where fading moonlight shone on the fog that coiled dense grey tendrils about luxuriant shrubbery and tiled walks. Calandryll found himself mightily tired, wanting only to fall into the wide bed and sleep, confident now of Menelian’s honesty. Dawn was not far off, the sky already paling, and he
knew that the rising of the sun must see him on his feet: the repairing of the warboat would need every willing hand, and the sooner that was done, the sooner they might quit Vishat’yi; leave Kandahar behind and go on after Rhythamun. He unbuckled his swordbelt and tossed the sheathed blade onto the bed. Beside it stood a table with an ewer: he splashed water on his face and sighed. His eyes were heavy, his limbs leaden; he wanted only to sleep, thinking that for at least a day or two he might enjoy such luxury unhindered by dread—after that he must think of Anomius’s creation and wonder how far behind she was, what form she might take. He dried his face, staring blankly into the past as he struggled to recall what he knew of revenants, of their strengths and the weaknesses through which they might be undone. The texts, once so important to him, seemed vague now, misted over like the garden below by all that had transpired since his departure from Secca. He yawned again, hugely, deciding to set concern aside awhile and find refuge in sleep.

He started as the door opened, surprised to find the straightsword in his hand, the point directed at Bracht’s belly as the Kern entered.

“Dera!” he grunted, little pleased with the intrusion, “but I might have stuck you.”

Bracht shrugged. “Perhaps—I’ve taught you well.”

He brushed the angled blade aside and walked to the window, bracing his hands against the frame as he stared moodily out. His stance was unusually slumped, as if a weight rested upon his shoulders. Calandryll sighed and sheathed the sword. “Are you not tired?” he asked.

“Aye.” The Kern turned from his inspection of the garden to seat himself upon the bed. “But I’d speak awhile before I retire.”

Calandryll saw that he was intent on talking and resigned himself to a night with little, or no, sleep.

“About what?”

“Our quest,” the Kern answered, “and Menelian.”

Calandryll stifled a burgeoning yawn, gesturing for Bracht to explain.

The freesword leaned back, one heel hooked against the bed’s edge, his sinewy hands cupped about his knee. “Do you trust him?” he demanded.

Calandryll nodded. “Aye. I see no reason we should not; I thought you shared that.”

“He’s a mage,” Bracht murmured, as if that were response enough.

“But one who brings us warning of danger. One who aids us in readying the warboat. One prepared, it seems, to risk his own life to further our purpose.”

Bracht nodded reluctantly, his swarthy face etched with lines of doubt. “Why?” he demanded. “What wizards we’ve yet met have sought to bend us to their own purpose—first Rhythamun, then Anomius. Why should this one be different?”

“Mayhap for the very reasons he stated,” Calandryll returned. “Because he’d no more see the Mad God returned than you or I. Because he serves the Tyrant, and if Rhythamun succeeds, then likely all the Tyrants and Domms, the Khans and the Kings, will be thrown down. It’s in his own interest to prevent that.”

“Mayhap,” Bracht allowed, “but still . . .”

“Dera!” Calandryll shook his head, bemused by the frees word’s obstinacy. “Did he seek to obtain the Arcanum for himself, then why send word to ek’Nyle to aid us in repairing the boat? Why not use his magic to bind us here and leech our minds of all we know? He could do that easily, I think; but he has not. Rather, he seeks to speed us on our way.”

Bracht grunted. “Time shall prove that,” he muttered.

Calandryll studied his comrade’s glum face, sensing some other reason behind the Kern’s doubt. “It shall,” he agreed. “If Menelian aids the repairing, then we’ll be gone from Vishat’yi ere long—come dawn we’ll go to the harbor and see for ourselves.”

“And meanwhile?” Bracht muttered. “Do we remain here as his guests?”

Realization came gradually, drawn slowly from Calandryll’s memories of his own feelings as he had watched Nadama and Tobias. He felt a flush of irritation, followed swiftly by amusement—Bracht was disconcerted by the attentions Menelian had paid Katya, and by the woman’s response. He felt strangely aged as he set a hand to the Kern’s shoulder, their positions curiously reversed.

“You do not believe Menelian will betray us,” he said gently.

“No,” Bracht allowed, “not really. But . . .”

“And can you believe Katya would betray our quest?”

The Kern shook his head, staring resolutely at the far wall.

“She’s pledged to bring the Arcanum to Vanu,” Calandryll said, “to the holy men, that they may destroy it.”

“Aye.” Bracht nodded. “But . . .”

“But what?” Calandryll demanded. “Your feelings are known to her and she has not rejected them—only asked that you do not press her on that matter until our quest is done.”

Again, Bracht ducked his head in acceptance, but now he turned his face to Calandryll and in his eyes the younger man saw genuine concern.

“He’s a handsome man, Menelian,” the Kern said morosely.

“Aye.” Calandryll suppressed laughter, making his voice solemn. “And wealthy, I’d wager. Cultured, too.”

“He admires her,” Bracht said. “You saw the way he looked at her.”

“I did,” Calandryll agreed, “and I believe she enjoyed that attention. Quindar ek’Nyle, too, would seem impressed by her.”

“She’s beautiful,” Bracht said glumly. “Who’d not be?”

“Indeed,” said Calandryll, still solemn. “Just as you are.”

“I love her,” Bracht said.

“She knows that,” Calandryll replied.

“Then why . . . ?” the Kern demanded, cut short by Calandryll’s raised hand.

“Why does she not spurn such small attentions? Arouse ek’Nyle’s anger by refusing to eat with him? Glower at Menelian’s smile? Reject the arm he offers her?”

“Aye,” Bracht declared fervently.

“Because she enjoys them,” Calandryll said, no longer able to hide his laughter. “Dera, man! She’s spent more than a year on board that warboat—do you not think she could have found herself a lover among the crew had she wished?”

Bracht frowned, then shrugged his agreement.

“But she did not,” Calandryll said. “And even though it’s plain to any with eyes in their head that she’d accept your suit, she sought your vow to hold off until our quest is done. Do you truly believe she’ll now renege because Menelian pays her a compliment or two?”

“I . . .” Bracht grunted, then shrugged again.

“Am sometimes a fool,” Calandryll finished for him. “I do not think that wealth or power sway Katya. I think she’s a woman with a mind of her own, and that’s made up on such matters.”

“Truly?” Bracht asked.

“Truly,” answered Calandryll. “And in your favor.”

The Kern’s mouth hinted a reluctant smile. “I’m more at home on the grass of Cuan na’For,” he said slowly, gesturing to encompass the room and the building beyond, “than among such surroundings.”

“As, I suspect, Katya would be,” said Calandryll.

“Then you think I’ve nothing to fear?”

Calandryll stared at the freesword, shaking now with laughter. “Save the Tyrant’s soldiery, the Chaipaku, Rhythamun, Anomius and his revenant” —he chuckled—“no. Nothing at all.”

Bracht’s face was solemn as he stared back, then he, too, began to laugh. “Then all is well,” he said.

“Good.” Calandryll shook his head, both amazed and amused that in the midst of their perils Bracht should find that one thing so troubling. Had he once thought a woman’s regard so important? “Now, shall we sleep?”

BOOK: Dark Magic
12.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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