Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (22 page)

Velindre studied the ciphered message still floating in the air. ‘Miris Esul commands considerable respect among the other warlords, all of whom are shocked by the corsair isle’s destruction. As Kheda says, the Archipelago doesn’t need to trade with the mainland if they decide that living with their islands’ limited seams of iron ore and other metals is the lesser evil, compared to engaging with magic even at second hand.’

Planir frowned. ‘The realms and rulers of the mainland will be furious at the loss of Aldabreshin spices, gems and silks.’

‘They will blame us,’ Velindre predicted. ‘They will know the corsairs’ island’s destruction has provoked this Aldabreshin withdrawal.’

Jilseth found her voice. ‘Not if they know the threat which the Mandarkin Anskal posed to Caladhria. This tale of the corsairs wielding mysterious artefacts with magical properties is surely too vague to be convincing as a reason for Hadrumal’s intervention.’

‘Do you think you will convince them that Anskal was a threat to Tormalin, Lescar or Dalasor?’ Velindre challenged her. ‘Or to Ensaimin? If they cared about Caladhria’s suffering, those nobles and guild masters would have offered armed support when the first coastal baronies were raided. As for Solura, that land is nothing to them but a remote kingdom with strange customs and stranger people.’

‘That’s hardly—’ Jilseth began.

Planir intervened. ‘Explaining that Anskal sought to menace the mainland with a cohort of mageborn taught to wield his own attacking spells will hardly reassure the populace or nobles—’

He broke off as footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Voices similarly overlapped, though these were more readily recognised.

‘Our esteemed Flood Mistress.’ Mellitha’s sneer of dislike startled Jilseth.

‘With Kalion.’ Openly curious, Velindre waved away her spell and returned the tiny message slip to her belt pouch.

‘Each with several companions. Who do you suppose they have brought to see me?’

Seeing the secretive curve to Planir’s smile Jilseth suspected that he already knew.

‘Archmage!’ Kalion appeared first.

‘Good afternoon.’ Planir made no move to rise, merely nodding with amiable curiosity at the stranger escorted by the Hearth Master’s chosen nexus; Ely, Galen and Canfor.

Jilseth looked keenly at Ely, wearing a moss green gown, and Galen in his dark brown wool doublet. They both followed Hearth Master Kalion in declaring their affinity in their clothing. Canfor scorned such convention in dun breeches and a lavender doublet.

She had seen precious little of any of them since the corsair isle’s destruction. Rumour around Hadrumal’s wine shops insisted that either Ely or Galen had suffered some unspecified disruption to their affinity while the other had won unsuspected insights into wizardry.

Opinion was divided as to which of them might have cause to lament or to celebrate. There was just as much speculation as to whether or not the couple’s long-standing romance could withstand the resulting tensions.

Jilseth saw nothing in either of their faces to suggest any answers. She ignored Canfor’s searching gaze. He was clearly speculating as to what these three wizards might be discussing with Planir.

Kalion’s complacent smile multiplied his chins unbecomingly as he squared his shoulders to correct the drape of his rich red robes, disordered by hurrying up the stairs to be the first to speak to Planir. He laced his gold-ringed fingers together across his substantial paunch.

‘May I make known to you Asetin Tref, Elder of the Fifth Order of Rapplen.’

‘Good afternoon, Archmage.’ The new arrival’s low bow inadvertently revealed the balding spot amid his short-cropped mousy hair.

His flowing ochre mantle and the floor-length high-necked brown tunic beneath it marked him as Soluran as clearly as his accent and the carved wooden stave he carried. The four gems of wizardry were embedded in the brass band circling the top; sapphire, amber, ruby and emerald.

‘Archmage?’ Troanna followed Kalion’s coterie into the sitting room, her annoyance as plain as her face. ‘Please bespeak me when you’re done with the Hearth Master and we will return.’

‘Please.’ Planir held up a hand to detain the Flood Mistress and her lone companion. ‘Who is this visitor?’

This Soluran woman was another wizard with an earth affinity if the rich cinnamon hue of her cloak and the russet of her gown was any indication. Amber beads ringed her neck and wrists and shone amid her immaculately braided chestnut hair. Her jewel-studded stave was ebony ringed with silver.

Jilseth wondered if these visitors thought that Planir would be more amenable to mages who shared his birthright.

‘May I make known to you Ifestal Sansem, Elder of the Third Order of Detich.’

The second newcomer spared Troanna the briefest glance of acknowledgement before challenging Planir with an openly appraising look.

Jilseth noted that this woman was a handful of years older than the first Soluran wizard, although Mellitha and Planir were at least ten years older than that while Kalion and Troanna were older still.

Soluran wizards rarely made old bones, so it was said around Hadrumal’s wine shops, hence the insignificance of their scholarly traditions. What more could be expected from their multiplicity of rival Orders which so often rose and fell within a handful of generations?

‘Enter and be welcome,’ Planir invited. ‘You can hear what Hearth Master Kalion has to say.’

‘No thank you, Archmage.’ Troanna’s denial was firm. ‘We will return later.’

‘No, you will stay,’ Planir commanded. ‘So you won’t be put to the trouble of scrying on us and denying it afterwards.’

Jilseth did her best to keep her face expressionless as she saw the shock on every Hadrumal mage’s face. Every one of them apart from Kalion and Troanna. As for the Solurans, the man blushed with discomfort in sharp contrast to the woman’s unguarded smirk of satisfaction.

Planir smiled at the Hearth Master. ‘So, Kalion, what has your guest to say to me?’

Barely hiding his satisfaction at the Archmage’s discourtesy to Troanna, Kalion turned to his companion. ‘Master Tref?’

‘Archmage.’ The Soluran cleared his throat. ‘My Order has considerable experience in crafting ensorcelled items—’

Planir raised an inquiring finger. ‘Can your mages unravel the secrets of things already imbued with spells?’

The Soluran was clearly prepared for this question. ‘We are confident that once we have established the nature of the spells within a given artefact, our own knowledge of the processes will offer us the key to fuller understanding. Naturally we will be delighted to share such understanding with you, in return for access to some of Hadrumal’s lore—’

‘Quintessential magic?’ Troanna interrupted. ‘The Council will never agree to that.’

Planir looked at Kalion. ‘I take it you have some new argument to persuade the Council?’

Kalion glared at Troanna before answering the Archmage. ‘The Council has always feared that such powerful magic would be used without restraint in Solura’s ongoing skirmishes with Mandarkin. I agree these are valid objections—’

‘—particularly when we’ve so recently seen the destructive potential of the highest wizardry,’ Planir agreed amiably.

‘So we propose,’ Kalion continued resolutely, ‘that only the Elders of Master Tref’s Order are to be taught such lore—’

‘—we will not share such magic with any wizard below highest rank,’ Master Tref interjected with absolute sincerity. ‘We will swear whatever oaths you wish and agree to any safeguards you may stipulate.’

As the Hearth Master nodded emphatically, Jilseth recalled an unguarded remark Planir had once made in her hearing. Kalion’s own absolute and inflexible sense of honour could be more dangerous than any lesser mage’s deceits. The Hearth Master believed that everyone whom he had chosen to trust would keep faith with him, just as he would uphold his agreements with them.

‘Furthermore,’ Kalion continued, ‘the Order of Rapplen is sworn to the Duke of Ostern, in Solura’s central provinces. Their Elders have not been embroiled in border strife for a generation.’

Planir looked at Master Tref. ‘Your Order and your Duke don’t see fit to help us simply by way of recompense for saving your realm from the Mandarkin Anskal? Wouldn’t every wizard in Solura have been called upon if Anskal had returned to share his hoard of artefacts with the warrior-captains who serve this tyrant?’

Kalion spoke up quickly, seeing that the Soluran was at a loss for an answer. ‘In the first instance, we can secure the Order of Rapplen’s co-operation by sharing the bare techniques of establishing a nexus. As they repay us with insights into these artefacts, we can consider sharing more powerful quintessential spells.’

While he was unfailingly principled, the Hearth Master was no fool, Jilseth reflected. Meanwhile she was watching Troanna and the Soluran magewoman. Ifestal Sansem was growing increasingly impatient, her expression hardening as she saw the Flood Mistress allow Kalion and Master Tref to make their arguments.

Granted, if the Soluran was used to judging mages by appearances, Troanna wouldn’t look very impressive in her faded moss green gown, with the faded hair and thickened waist of any humble grandmother, wearing no jewellery beyond a simple silver ring with a chipped beryl cabochon.

‘The wizards of Rapplen have no more need for quintessential magic than the Duke of Ostern,’ Ifestal Sansem interrupted, barely concealing her scorn for Asetin Tref. ‘We of Detich have no interest in such bargaining, Archmage. We want those artefacts, no more, no less. Hadrumal has no need of them. You seek only to satisfy your curiosity.’ She didn’t hide her disdain for that.

‘This is your argument? No more and no less?’ Planir raised his eyebrows.

‘We have need of such weapons and such defences,’ she retorted. ‘The Order of Detich is sworn to Lord Megriol. Megrilar is the province most frequently and viciously attacked by Mandarkin. We guard—’

‘—the Gelakul Pass and the Ezin Gorge, yes, I know,’ Planir informed her.

The magewoman was unabashed. ‘Then you know if Megrilar falls, the way to Solith and the Lake of Kings will lie open to Mandarkin’s invaders.’

Planir pursed his lips. ‘Only if Lady Edath, Lord Safren, Lord Astrad and Lord Mafrid choose not to send their troops and mages into the fray while every House of Sanctuary between the northern forests and the lowlands chooses to stand on the sidelines. Even then I suspect King Solquen’s own regiments would give a good account of themselves, backed by Trudenar and Vagisar forces.’

Planir raised a hand to silence Kalion’s inarticulate outrage. ‘But you have yet to explain what the Order of Detich offers Hadrumal in return for these artefacts.’

‘We offer nothing,’ Ifestal Sansem replied.

Planir steepled his fingers beneath his bearded chin. ‘Then what will you do if we don’t hand over the Mandarkin’s loot?’

Ifestal Sansem didn’t blink. ‘You will come to regret such selfishness.’

Planir grinned. ‘You will have to be more specific if you wish to threaten the Archmage of Hadrumal.’

‘You have until the turn of For-Spring,’ the Soluran magewoman retorted, ‘to surrender the artefacts. If not, you will soon learn what it is to make enemies of mages who know how to fight. We do not forswear our wizardry’s aid in warfare,’ she sneered.

Hearth Master Kalion rounded on the Detich Elder, his voice shaking with fury. ‘Does your king know that you are attempting to compel these artefacts’ surrender with such menaces?’

‘King Solquen is gravely concerned to see Hadrumal’s unbridled power let loose in the Archipelago.’ Ifestal Sansem answered in level tones. ‘I understand that Emperor Tadriol is equally perturbed.’

‘True.’ Planir nodded as though they were having a perfectly amiable discussion.

‘Hadrumal would do better to have the Order of Detich as allies rather than enemies.’ Ifestal Sansem paused, her head angled. ‘Archmage or not, do you have the right to make this decision for every man, woman and child living on Hadrumal’s isle? Shouldn’t your Council of Wizards decide such weighty matters?’

‘That is none of your concern and I have heard enough of your demands.’ Planir flicked a dismissive hand and the Soluran magewoman vanished. The great diamond in his ring of office burned with cold fire.

‘Please believe me, Archmage—’ Apprehension twisted the Rapplen mage’s face.

‘Thank you, Master Tref,’ Planir said courteously. ‘I will consider your proposal on its own merits. Do you require any assistance in returning to your own Order’s tower?’

‘No, thank you.’ Tref fled in a blinding flash of magelight.

Kalion took a wrathful step towards Troanna. ‘You dare to bring that woman here, to stand by while she threatens Hadrumal? You think that we should cravenly hand over these artefacts—?’

‘No,’ the Flood Mistress said scornfully before turning to Planir. ‘But now you have heard that foolish magewoman’s threats for yourself, believe me when I tell you that the Elders of Detich are not the only Soluran wizards contemplating such aggression to secure these artefacts.’

She glared at the Archmage. ‘Your responsibility above all other is to safeguard Hadrumal and Trydek’s legacy. We are making no progress in comprehending the magic underlying these cursed artefacts and what good would such understanding do us anyway? Any mage worth the name should be able to master such spells.’