Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (20 page)

The Tormalin’s grin admitted his guilt even as he nodded. ‘Quite so.’

‘What brings a noble esquire to a humble Caladhrian town like Ferl?’ Corrain demanded bluntly. Those finely honed accents meant this Tormalin was a true-born scion of some princely house.

Why was he so interested in Corrain? Where was his partner from Wrede? Why were two men from opposite ends of the long fallen Old Tormalin Empire working hand in glove?

‘Shall we discuss both our travels over a glass of wine?’ the young man suggested, guileless.

‘No.’ Uncompromising, Corrain nodded at the maidservant. ‘I’ll take that letter now.’

The nervous girl snatched up the grimy parchment. Corrain took it from her trembling hand and shoved it into the pocket inside his cloak’s lining.

‘Aren’t you going to read that?’ the Tormalin enquired.

‘I can guess what it says.’ The writing and the seal had confirmed Corrain’s suspicions.

This particular letter had merely been an excuse for Baron Karpis’s men to come here and provoke another scuffle with Halferan’s guards. Karpis’s sergeant had dropped it in some horseshit, hoping that Linset would throw the first punch. Corrain had ordered the boy to let it lie; letter and insult alike.

He waited for the Tormalin youth to make the next move. When it was clear he wouldn’t, Corrain raised his voice. ‘Captain Vereor, would you join us?’

The old guardsman entered so swiftly he must have been standing with his ear pressed against the door. ‘My lord Halferan?’

‘Take that one in hand to answer to Lord Ferl at the Spring Equinox assize.’ Corrain jerked his head towards The Shield Wall’s girl before glaring at the resident maid. ‘You lose yourself before I change my mind.’

‘My lord.’ Vereor seized The Shield Wall girl’s arm. She burst into noisy tears, wailing incoherent protests as the other maid fled though the kitchen door.

The young Tormalin noble winced. ‘My lord Baron, there is no need to ruin a girl’s prospects with a season spent in lock-up. Any fault here lies with me. Please let her go and we can share a glass of wine while I explain.’

Corrain shook his head. ‘I don’t drink with men I don’t know. Vereor, have that slut put in irons.’

‘My apologies, my lord Halferan.’ The Tormalin offered him a bow fit for the Emperor’s throne room. ‘I am Yadres, Esquire Den Dalderin.’

The name meant nothing to Corrain, though he made sure to remember it. ‘Good day to you, Esquire. Vereor, let her loose.’

Since the Tormalin had been the first to yield, Corrain would see what a gesture on his part might win him.

Vereor forced the grizzling maidservant out through the street door with a merciless shove which sent her sprawling into the gutter.

‘My lord,’ the Tormalin protested.

Corrain ignored that. ‘Why were you so interested in buying a letter addressed to me?’

‘To see if it held anything which you wouldn’t want widely known.’

The young esquire’s frank answer surprised Corrain almost as much as the glimpse of ruthlessness beneath his diffident manner.

He pulled the letter from his cloak pocket to win some time to think. Snapping the wax seal, he took petty pleasure in ruining Baron’s Karpis’s blazon. Unfolding the parchment, Corrain read the cursory blend of open insults and veiled threats, just as he had suspected.

He refolded the letter. ‘What interest does Tormalin have in seeing Halferan’s baron cast down?’

‘You mistake me. You’re welcome to your barony.’ The Tormalin shook his head. ‘We would have offered you a trade; our discretion for information.’

‘Who is “we”?’ Corrain demanded.

‘My uncle the Sieur Den Dalderin has the Emperor’s ear,’ the Esquire said bluntly. ‘Both are most interested to hear the full story of your return from the Archipelago. They’re still more eager to learn the truth of the corsairs’ fate and what became of their plunder.’

Corrain stared at the young man, incredulous. ‘You think that their loot fills Halferan’s strong rooms? Does the Tormalin Emperor claim it too?’

The corsairs had never raided so far east. The currents and storms around the Cape of Winds were notorious and besides, Tormalin’s own pirates lurked in that headland’s remote coves.

‘What? No, neither my uncle nor the Emperor has any interest in whatever gold you might have recovered,’ Den Dalderin assured him.

‘What does interest them?’ Corrain was growing impatient.

‘Ensorcelled artefacts.’ Den Dalderin looked at him keenly.

Corrain looked back mystified. ‘What?’

Now Den Dalderin was wrong-footed. ‘You agreed to support Planir with Caladhrian swords because the corsairs had discovered treasures imbued with magic among their loot.’

‘What of it?’ Corrain stared at him. ‘You think we would bring such cursed things home to Halferan? When hoarding such magic is what finally persuaded the Archmage to attack the corsairs after all Caladhria’s years of suffering had left him unmoved?’

‘You never thought to claim a share, to secure an advantage in your own dealings with Planir?’ Den Dalderin persisted. ‘You don’t know that Hadrumal’s wizards covet such treasures?’

But Corrain heard the first hint of doubt in the esquire’s words.

‘The Archmage may have salvaged such artefacts but I know nothing of that,’ he assured Den Dalderin. ‘We want nothing more to do with Hadrumal, no more than any other Caladhrian barony. Hasn’t your Ensaimin lackey told you that our parliament has just outlawed any suborning of wizardry in warfare? There are riders on the road carrying letters to your princes, recommending the self-same decree to your Emperor.’

Den Dalderin shook his head. ‘The Convocation of Princes will never agree to forgo magical aid, not when we must rely on elemental spells to see our ships safely across the ocean to Kellarin.’

Corrain shrugged. ‘That’s no business of mine. If you want to know about these ensorcelled artefacts ask Archmage Planir.’

He nodded to Vereor and took a step towards the tavern’s street door.

Den Dalderin moved into his path. ‘You could ask Planir what he plans to do with these artefacts. You have a legitimate interest in knowing.’

He looked straight at Corrain. ‘Tell me and the Emperor’s gratitude could be worth more than gold to you. Halferan has precious few friends at present but while Caladhria’s baronies find their wares and harvests shunned by Relshazri merchants fearing Archipelagan prejudice, you could earn even your enemies’ acclaim if you could offer them introductions to Toremal’s merchants instead.’

‘No,’ Corrain said shortly.

Den Dalderin folded his arms. ‘My uncle would be most interested to learn of your dealings with Solura’s wizards.’

‘No,’ Corrain said again.

‘Forgive me, but we know that you visited Castle Pastamar and met with the Elders of the Order of Fornet.’

Corrain noted the reach of Tormalin’s spies as well as the unyielding resolve in the esquire’s eyes, so at odds with his inconsequential appearance.

‘I don’t deny my travels to Solura, nor who I met there. When I said no, I was answering your next question.’

‘What’s that?’ Den Dalderin grinned despite himself.

Corrain wasn’t amused. ‘You want some introduction to Solura’s wizards. Believe me, the Order of Fornet wants no more to do with me, and I want no more to do with them.’

‘You underestimate Soluran interest in your most recent adventures,’ Den Dalderin said firmly. ‘You could trade what you know of the corsair isle’s fate for considerable goodwill among Solura’s wizards. Use that to serve Toremal and you’ll have the Emperor’s favour.’

So much for vowing to have nothing more to do with wizards, Corrain reflected. They seemed inconveniently determined to have more to do with him. What was his best course of action?

He folded his arms, challenging the young Tormalin noble. ‘Answer me one question and I’ll consider your offer. Who is this man from Wrede, if he’s not your lackey?’

He’d seen the flicker of bemusement in Den Dalderin’s eyes when he’d mentioned the Ensaimin sniffing after him.

‘I don’t know who you mean.’ The Tormalin shook his head, apparently sincere. ‘I swear it by Saedrin’s keys.’

‘Find out who he is and what his interest in Halferan might be. Then we can talk further.’

Corrain stepped around him. This time Den Dalderin let him go, as far as the door at least.

‘I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Lord Halferan.’

Corrain didn’t look back, walking purposefully away. Vereor fell into step beside him.

‘By all that’s holy, what was that about?’

‘I don’t know.’ Corrain ground his teeth. ‘Trimon only knows what rumours will run round Ferl’s taprooms after those two girls have wept on their friends’ shoulders. Will you let me know the worst of it? Oh, and if you can turn this garbage into gold, do so and welcome.’

He proffered the letter which had started this. Let people hereabouts learn a little of Baron Karpis’s true character.

‘I’ll write—’ Vereor seized his arm. ‘Over there. That’s the man who was asking after you.’

‘Where?’ Corrain searched the crowded street for anyone matching the old guardsman’s description of someone wholly unremarkable.

‘On the bay colt.’ Vereor nodded rather than alert the rider with a pointing hand.

Corrain wished he’d pulled his hood up as they had left the inn. He could only casually turn his back as the man passed by. Whoever he was, they couldn’t follow him, not on foot. But Corrain would know him again, nonentity though he might be on that equally anonymous horse.

‘I can ask around to see where he went this morning,’ Vereor offered.

‘Let me know what you learn. I want to be on the road as soon as my men are mounted.’

Corrain found this notion of Imperial interest in what he might know of wizardry in Hadrumal or Solura profoundly unsettling. Nearly as unsettling as discovering some unknown man from Wrede was dogging his footsteps from Duryea.

Well, for the moment at least, he could hope that he had set one spy chasing the other. If the Tormalin Den Dalderin could tell him who the man from Wrede was, perhaps he could see how best to defend Halferan’s interests.

He picked up the pace. The sooner he got back to The Shield Wall, the sooner he’d be on his way to Halferan. Though he didn’t relish trying to explain to Lady Zurenne that he had changed his mind about cutting all ties with the Archmage.

Doubtless Planir would be interested to know that this Esquire Den Dalderin had sought an introduction to Solura’s wizards. In return, surely Corrain could ask Madam Jilseth to use her skills to discover if this man from Wrede was any threat to Lady Zurenne and her children.

Once he knew that Halferan was safe on that score, then Corrain could be done with wizardry.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Trydek’s Hall, Hadrumal

16th of Aft-Winter

J
ILSETH ROUNDED THE
turn of the spiral stair to see the door to the Archmage’s sitting room standing open.

This chamber extended across the entire ancient tower. The broad table, usually accommodating some gathering of Planir’s personal pupils or a more formal meeting of Hadrumal’s eminent mages, was covered with books and scrolls. More were heaped on the window sills around the wide room. Some looked fresh from the bindery; others were so ancient that their dry calfskin was crumbling to powdery flakes. Some were tidily stacked while the rest sprawled open, piled on top of each other in haphazard fashion.