Enchanter (Book 7) (8 page)

“We
took
your oath!” a third pointed out.

“Why would you gentlemen want to come here, except to start trouble, Sir Dareen?” I asked, patiently.

“Is not your fair open to all magi, high and low?” asked Dareen.  “Our documents are in order,” he assured me.  “We merely wish to participate.  To study what you have done here.  In
peace
,” he insisted.

“Spies for Merwyn, more likely!” Dunselen sneered.  “Perhaps even saboteurs or even assassins!”

“Peace,” I said, holding up my hand.  I examined each man carefully.  “If you swear an oath that you will abide by the rules of the fair – and keep it better than you did at Chepstan Fair – then I see no reason to forbid it.  However,” I continued, “I will do so only on the condition that you, Sir,” I said, pointing to the knight who led them, “join me this evening in my tower, for a cup of wine and some discussion.  I believe that would be one reason why you are here?”

He eyed me warily.  “It would suit my purpose.”

“Then I see no reason to keep you from joining the festivities.  But I suggest that you pack your cloaks away until you leave.  They might prove a distraction.”

“Our order
insists
we wear them,” one of the warmagi called.

“And in Merwyn, where your duke reigns, you may follow that order happily.  Here in Sevendor, you will remove it . . . or you will leave.  A small price for admission, don’t you think?”

“Minalan, I must protest!” Dunselen said, angrily.  “Can’t you see that they are spies?”

“I’m leaning toward the old coot on this one,” Terleman said, evenly. 

“And I created this fair to be open to all magi of goodwill.  If they do not start trouble, there is no reason to bar them.  They could have removed their cloaks and entered surreptitiously, but they didn’t.  They paid their fee, they took their oath.  Banamor was correct to admit them.”

“Thank you, Magelord!” Banamor said, gratefully wiping his brow.  “Gentlemen, you heard the Baron: remove the cloaks and you may enter.”

“This isn’t good, Min,” Terleman muttered to me as Banamor led them away.

“Of course it isn’t!” snapped Dunselen.  “He just let four spies into the most sensitive arcane event in the Kingdom!  This is irresponsible, Minalan!”

“Listen to yourselves!” I snapped in return.  “Afraid of four little warmagi, when you’re surrounded by them?  And if you are worried about Merwyn learning our precious secrets, I’d wager something valuable they already know.  And anything they don’t know about, I’ll make a point to show them.”

“Ishi’s tits, Min!” Terleman gawked. 
“Why?”

“Because what use is a secret weapon if your potential opponents don’t know you have it?” I asked.  “If Merwyn was trying to intimidate us by showing off their own High Magi, it hardly worked.  At most they are announcing they have high magi.  When I spoke to Master Hartarian about it, he said that the commandaries in Merwyn and Vore probably had fifteen or so witchstones among them.  And that at least five Imperial families had hidden them, and managed to avoid surrendering them to the Censorate.”

“Which means that Merwyn suddenly has twenty witchstones!” Dunselen argued.

“There are more than that currently jostling elbows in the beer tent,” I pointed out.  “Merwyn’s admission may indicate that they have achieved some power, but compared to the kingdom’s magical arsenal, it’s still anemic.  I aim to demonstrate that in no uncertain terms, while they are here.  If they came to spy and report back – and I do not doubt that they will – then my plan is to give them enough to report so that Merwyn will not even consider the folly of starting a war with Castalshar.”

“I don’t know, Min,” Terleman said, shaking his head slowly at the receding figures.  “I still think you should have thrown them out.  At the very least.”

“You’ve been stuck in the field too long,” I sighed.  “This isn’t a battle, this is politics.  And statecraft.  And a whole bunch of other crap that they never discussed at the Academy.  When you have long-term enemies, then you need to appreciate them as such.  Let me handle this,” I urged them.  “You just enjoy the fair.”

*

After ensuring that the Knights of Nablus weren’t going to start attacking every mage in sight, I wearily went back to the castle to get changed for the evening’s festivities.  I was about to head for the new hall when I glanced up at my tower and saw Lorcus sitting in the window of my workshop.  He gave me a nod and I changed course.

“When the hells did you arrive?” I demanded, the moment I entered the room.  “Why didn’t you tell me, mind-to-mind?”

“A few hours ago,” he said, as he sprawled in my window bay with a cup in his hand.  “And I didn’t want to disturb your academic pursuits.  And this way I got to sit here and drink your wine for free,” he pointed out.

“Dunselen an Isily are at the fair.  When were you going to tell me that?”

The Remeran shrugged. “I thought you knew.  The fair schedule was established months ago.  Didn’t Banamor tell you?”

“It must have slipped his mind,” I grunted.  “You have something to report?”

“It was a lovely wedding. The bride wore russet and yellow, the groom didn’t smell too bad.  Neighbor and vassal, family and friends gathered in the sight of the Holy Mother to add their blessings to hers.  The musicians played ‘
O, Were She A Rose’
and ‘
The Legacy of Love’
.  The cake was a five-layered affair involving lemon and rosewater.”

You had to have a lot of patience with Lorcus.  “Your impressions?”

“I’ve never been a fan of rosewater, and the lemon just didn’t go over as well as I had expected,” he said, philosophically.  “An interesting experiment, but it was tragically too subtle for the occasion.”

A whole lot of patience.  “I was more interested in the bridesmaids,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I have no doubt – who wouldn’t be?  A lively lot, they were.  Young, pretty, and all friends of Her Highness.  There were four of the beauties there, and they’ve all agreed to stay on as the new baroness’ ladies-in-waiting.  Something that might be of concern – at least two of the lasses are magi.”

That
was
concerning.  I had figured that Isily was using her marriage as a pretext for some scheme or another, on behalf of the Princess, and this as much as confirmed it.  A whole pretty coven of magical assassins. 

“And how did Lady Isily appear around her new groom?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“Oh, she was the very picture of wifely devotion and managed a surprising amount of affection toward him, in public.  I wasn’t able to see how the happy couple were in private – I’m not certain my eyes could have taken the strain.  But if the marriage is a sham, it’s a well-constructed sham.  Either way, milady has pretty killers infesting her chambers.  As to what her plans are . . . well, that remains a mystery.”

“Speculation?”

“With my imagination and five beautiful women to play with?  That could get involved,” Lorcus said, stroking his chin and grinning.  “But she’s having a hall constructed for their use.  The official story is that they are all dear friends and family who go back years, and she cannot bear to be parted from them.  But I see it as a headquarters for Family operations in the region, as well as a strategic move by Mother to keep the power of the Arcane Orders in check.”

“So why didn’t you report all of this to me, mind-to-mind?” I demanded.

“Because you were off in the Wilderlands with the kiddies, and there was nothing that was urgent enough in my opinion to justify the intrusion,” he shot back.  In other households the retort would have been considered cheeky enough for a rebuke.  But I’d taken Lorcus into service partially because he was cunning, devious, intelligent . . . and he didn’t kiss my ass.  He respected me, the man, not the title or even the power. 

Part of that respect involved trusting his judgment.  If he didn’t think it was worthy of telling me, I had treat it as such. 

“All right,” I sighed, sitting down in my chair.  “Do you think you’ve set things up so that you could return without being detected?”

“I’m there as a humble and enterprising pack merchant,” he chuckled.  “Dunselen has men eager to purchase magical components, and they pay well.  I took a handful of snowstone gravel from the stoneyard, and sold it to them at two-thirds of market price.  Made a nice purse, too,” he smiled.  “They think I have a secret connection in Sevendor, and they encouraged me to find more.  I’ve taken rooms at one of the nicer inns there.  I was liberal enough with my coin and my affections that the widow who runs it will be very pleased to see my return.”

“Good.  I don’t know what they’re up to, yet, but there’s no way that this marriage could be innocent.”

“Innocent?  With that lecherous old goat?  From what I understand, he was rogering the servant girls again as soon as they returned from the honeymoon.  You know, Min, I can almost understand throwing that tasty bit of pudding at him to distract him long enough for the knife, but why go to the bother of promoting him?  If you’re going to assassinate a man, then why make him a baron before you do it?”

“It’s actually not a bad move, from the royal perspective,” I pointed out.  “The promotion to baron essentially recognizes his current holdings . . . but it also imposes a lot of restrictions on future conquest.  As a representative of ducal – and now royal – authority, the peerage adds an additional layer of responsibility and expense to the administration of your estates.  It also forces you to be answerable to your overlords in ways that mere domain-level lords are not. 

“But you can also look at it this way: if you wanted to grant a favored agent status and position adequate to fulfill missions in the highest levels of society, then the peerage is sufficient to do so . . . and there are few barons out there of old, established lines who would be willing to marry a bride tainted by sorcery.  If Mother plans on killing Dunselen eventually anyway, then there’s no reason that Isily shouldn’t inherit a title as well as his holdings.”

“You are a devious man, Min,” Lorcus admitted, admiringly.  “So what are they doing here?”

“Dunselen is advancing his academic career.  As far as Isily’s motives . . . I haven’t run into her yet.  When I do, I’m thinking of asking her.”

He looked at me oddly.  “You mean, just walk up to her and say ‘what are you up to, then’?”

“Essentially,” I nodded. 

“And you think she’ll just tell you every little dirty secret on her mind?”

“You did, if you recall,” I reminded him.  Lorcus blushed.  He remembered the special interrogation I had insisted on when he asked to take my service. 

“Aye,” he admitted.  “You are one persuasive bastard. All right, if you’re done with me, I think I’d like to enjoy the fair, now.”

“You may do so, but I’m not done with you.  Check with Banamor before you go, and find out what the four men who showed up at the gate wearing checkered cloaks are doing.”

That got his attention. He sat bolt upright, nearly upsetting his wineglass.

“The bloody Censorate is here?”

“Actually, they’re the Merwyni Order of The Arcane Knights of Nablus, or something like that, now.  They’re official Merwyni magi, in other words, without any additional mission.  Or so they say.  I’d like someone with a subtle eye to follow them and ensure that they’re just looking for souvenirs.”

“That does sound like an interesting thing to know,” he agreed.  “I’ll get right on that.  Right after a dip in the pond and a change of clothes.”

“Then come see me tonight or tomorrow morning,” I decided.  “I’ve got some other work for you, too.  Interesting work.”

“Oh, that does sound intriguing,” he grinned, madly.

*

That evening was a special reception by the Guild of Enchanters in their ramshackle hall.  It was the social event that was open to all, from the lowliest apprentice and footwizard to . . . well, me.  The “guild” was actually more of a rooming house with delusions of grandeur, but the magi who lived and worked there, mostly pursuing their individual areas of study or vocation, had managed to cultivate enough of a sense of institution about the place to give it a kind of mystique among the magi. 

Visitors to the compound from outside of Sevendor were too impressed by its proximity to the snowstone mountain in the south and the elegant Alkan tower to the north that they overlooked its shabby nature.  Next to the stately spire of the Arcane Orders chapterhouse and the elegant lines of the Remeran-styled Order of the Secret Tower mansion, the Guild looked delightfully quaint. 

To the magi who lived in Sevendor, the Guild was a symbol of independence from both the Arcane Orders’ structure and the other institutions of magic that had evolved in the last few years.  Regardless of how poor you were, a mage could get a spot on the floor of their hall and a seat at their table for the price of a few hours of work.  There was an open library available for study, meager compared to mine but with most of the basic magical texts and some interesting additions donated by members.  There was even an enchantment laboratory, of sorts, where the poorly-funded could get access to equipment and resources to pursue independent research.