Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (6 page)

Jilseth could only be grateful that Planir had been able to drive that devastating power down into the bedrock deep below the corsair harbour. That he had cast it out into the seas surrounding the remote island and hurled it into the winds that scoured the Aldabreshin sky. The destruction of the raiders’ island wasn’t so great a calamity, not compared with the catastrophe that could have befallen so many of Hadrumal’s greatest mages and so many of her friends.

‘There’s no trace of any other ensorcelled artefacts sunk to the sea floor.’ Velindre ran a thoughtful hand through her close-cropped golden hair. ‘Is there any way that the renegade could have sent some of his loot to an ally?’

‘We don’t know that he had any allies in Mandarkin or anywhere else.’ Mellitha drummed impeccably manicured fingers on the rosewood table top. She looked at Jilseth. ‘Have our esteemed colleagues in Hadrumal made any progress in learning just what his homeland’s magical traditions might be?’

‘Not beyond confirming that Solura’s Orders of Wizardry condemn all Mandarkin’s mages as venal and as violent as Anskal proved,’ Jilseth replied.

‘His ambitions went beyond mere wealth,’ Velindre argued. ‘Why else would he gather a circle of Aldabreshi mageborn to train in his own tradition? If all he sought was gold, he could have gathered ten times such riches by simply lying to the corsairs about which of their treasures had some wizardry bound within them. The Archipelagans have no way to know. They would have handed over whatever he pointed to, repelled by even the suspicion of magic’s contaminating influence.’

‘Perhaps but we still have no reason to think that any artefacts escaped us,’ Mellitha said firmly. She gestured and a tall oil lamp obediently glowed to relieve the gloom deepening in the long room.

Now Velindre turned to Jilseth. ‘How are Hadrumal’s own investigations into the Mandarkin’s loot progressing?’

‘No better than our attempts here today,’ Jilseth saw nothing to be gained by dissembling.

‘I never came across any such things, not in all my time in the Archipelago.’ Velindre scowled at the arm-ring.

Jilseth wondered why the magewoman took it so sorely amiss that she hadn’t encountered any trinkets or jewelled ornaments imbued with spells, when she had been travelling the Archipelago in the guise of a eunuch scholar a handful of years before.

‘Why should you?’ Mellitha challenged Velindre. ‘You weren’t looking. Besides, if you had admitted to sensing magic within some warlord’s treasure, you’d have seen your own flayed skin nailed to a gatepost before you died.’

Jilseth shuddered at the thought of the Aldabreshin hatred of magic; so absolute that such atrocities were deemed essential to preserve the purity of the omens of earth and sky which governed every Archipelagan’s life.

Had the past year’s events given any Aldabreshin warlord pause for thought? Had the Archipelagans realised their savagery was a two-edged sword? With no wizards to call on, they could have no defences against a mage as vicious as Anskal.

Velindre scowled, still brooding. ‘I might have noticed ensorcelled trinkets being passed from hand to hand if the art of crafting such things wasn’t so scorned in Hadrumal.’

Mellitha looked at Jilseth. ‘I take it the Soluran Orders of Wizardry are still refusing to share what lore they hold on such things?’

Jilseth nodded. ‘As long as Hadrumal refuses to share the secrets of quintessential magic.’

Velindre folded her arms. ‘If you and Merenel haven’t come here with any news, you must have come with questions from the Archmage. What does Planir want?’

‘He asks what you know of the current situation in the Archipelago, of the consequences of last For-Autumn’s events.’

When they had arrived though, the senior magewomen had immediately sought their assistance in making a nexus in hopes of prying open the gilt and crystal arm-ring’s secrets. Jilseth and Merenel had both been just as eager to try.

‘The winds are still unsettled in that reach of the Nahik domain and are likely to remain so.’ Velindre gazed towards the long windows, as though she could see across the hundreds of leagues to the Archipelago. ‘Without the corsair island on the western fringes several important sea lanes are now left unshielded from approaching storms.’

‘The sea currents are similarly reshaping themselves and everything else under the waves,’ Mellitha added. ‘What should concern Planir is we’ve seen no ships sailing northward from the Miris domain since the corsair island’s destruction, or passing through the Miris islands from anywhere further south. While we wouldn’t expect to see Archipelagan galleys risking the winter sailing from the islands to the mainland, the usual trading between the warlords’ domains should have continued.’

‘Do you think that the galleys and triremes will sail north again once they have got the measure of the shifts in the currents and winds?’ Jilseth watched the scrying spell fading to leave clear water glossed with the rainbow sheen of the perfume’s oils. ‘Such changes are a natural consequence of the corsair island’s loss even if such destruction itself was magewrought.’

‘The Aldabreshi won’t make any such distinction,’ Velindre asserted, ‘not as long as they see the omens and portents around those islands thrown into chaos.’

Jilseth pictured the map which Velindre had once shown her, of the northernmost islands and the two neighbouring domains whose sea lanes were the conduit for all trade between the mainland and the Archipelago.

‘What does this mean for the Khusro and Jagai warlords?’

‘I have no idea.’ Now Mellitha sounded just as affronted as Velindre had done earlier. ‘The Aldabreshi have managed to convince the Relshazri to shun any dealings with wizardry.’

‘Still?’ Jilseth knew that the locals here had sought to placate the Archipelagans after the shocking news from the south had caused initial panic among the galleys and triremes tied up along the dockside. After a full season had passed, she had imagined that this city of traders and merchants would resume their pragmatic and profitable ways, turning magecraft to their own advantage as they always had.

If Mellitha didn’t use her wizardry directly in her lucrative business of collecting taxes for the Relshazri magistrates, her magebirth was no secret after three decades living in the city. Indeed, as she had cheerfully told Jilseth, her underlings tactfully let newcomers know that they were dealing with a wizard, in case those optimists fondly believed that a second set of ledgers or some concealed stash of coin could escape her mage-enhanced eyes. As a result, Mellitha rarely had to work any actual spells to uncover such deceits.

Velindre traded openly on her wizardly skills, surveying the skies and winds and selling her knowledge of incoming storms and sea states to mariners charting a course towards the Archipelago or heading eastward across the Gulf of Lescar to Tormalin’s ports.

‘No ship’s captain sailing anywhere from Col to Toremal who has dealings with the Aldabreshi dares to be seen in my company.’ The blond magewoman scowled.

Mellitha sighed. ‘We haven’t been idle. Tell Planir that we’ve sent ciphered letters to Kheda by a range of different routes. Though I cannot say how long it will be before we get a reply. Such a letter must pass through ten or twenty hands to conceal its origin and its destination.’

‘Planir will know who this Kheda is?’ Jilseth knew that was a foolish question; of course the Archmage would know, but she didn’t and she was curious, having heard this Archipelagan mentioned a few times in this house. He had been involved Velindre’s own mysterious and perilous travels in the Archipelago some years before.

Mellitha smiled with wry understanding and answered Jilseth’s unspoken query. ‘Kheda is that rarest of Aldabreshi, one who understands that magic is no more good nor evil than any other tool or authority. What matters is the use which it’s put to. He travels between the Archipelago and the mainland, trading in knowledge and practical solutions to common problems. He believes that hostility between the islanders and the northerners stems from ignorance more than anything else.’

Velindre snorted. ‘It would be as well to remind Planir—’

All three women looked around as the door opened and a chill draught prompted a combative glow in the charcoal brazier set between the table and a trio of silken settles further down the room.

‘Forgive me.’ Merenel stood in the doorway, a blush of embarrassment on her cheekbones. ‘You’re quite right, Madam Esterlin—’ she bowed to Mellitha ‘—the more we know of the Caladhrian boy Hosh’s experience, the better our chances of understanding the spells crafted into that arm-ring. I was wondering if Jilseth and I should pay a festival visit to Halferan Manor to ask him what he recalls.’

Jilseth nodded in swift agreement. ‘To see if something he says chimes with what little we’ve learned so far.’ She would also be glad of an excuse to see Lady Zurenne and Lady Ilysh, to see how they were faring as they ruled their barony in most unCaladhrian fashion.

‘Perhaps.’ Mellitha beckoned Merenel to the table. ‘But first, we have thought of another approach. If we three ward off the other elements, Jilseth may discern the earth magic bound within it more clearly.’

Jilseth looked across the obdurate arm-ring as her friend sat down. ‘This could well show us what questions to ask Hosh.’

Even with her new and untried strengths, she didn’t really think that she would be able to penetrate this artefact’s mysteries with some further clue. Perhaps the Caladhrian boy would hold some key, all unknowing.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Halferan Manor, Caladhria

Winter Solstice Festival, 3rd Evening

‘M
IN
G
ARTAS.
’ T
HE
balding demesne reeve opened his purse with fingers stained and scarred from working alongside the manor’s craftsmen as they restored their village.

‘...fourteen, fifteen and sixteen.’

Master Rauffe carefully counted each silver mark aloud before these witnesses and then wrote the tally in his ledger.

‘Our most sincere thanks, Master Gartas,’ Ilysh said warmly.

‘And our admiration,’ Zurenne added quickly. ‘You must have worked long days and most diligently.’

Truth be told, she refused to believe that this was a tenth of whatever Gartas had earned on his own account since autumn’s equinox. Of necessity Zurenne had taught herself the intricacies of the barony’s finances since her husband’s death and during Corrain’s absences pursuing corsairs. This much silver must be nearer to a fifth of Gartas’s share of the trading dues he’d collected through this past quarter year. The tenth-day market in Halferan village was still barely worth the name and no merchants or casual peddlers had passed this way since the turn of For-Winter.

She saw the same realisation in Ilysh’s eyes. They had educated themselves together, defying all tradition which insisted that a manor’s accounting was none of a noblewoman’s concern.

‘Athim Sirstin.’ The tall man stooped to set his coins down on the table, the breadth of his shoulders as impressive as his height. Softly spoken as he was, there was no mistaking the pride in his voice at being able to make this payment.

‘Twelve silver marks.’ Master Rauffe recorded the total with brisk pen strokes.

‘Our thanks.’ Ilysh smiled with sincere gratitude.

Zurenne echoed her daughter, even as she calculated that the blacksmith’s skills would have earned him the coin to pay at least half as much again in a year of peace and plenty.