Ice Forged (The Ascendant Kingdoms Saga) (18 page)

“So?” Piran asked.

Ifrem rolled his eyes. “The magic that people can control is
hasithara
. The untamed magic is called
visithara
.” He replaced the map in the leather container and returned it to its hiding place. “They say places like the ones marked on the map are where the wild power—
visithara
—flows the strongest. People without magic think the gods seem closer there. A shrine or a temple is built, or the people who live nearby bring offerings to the spirits. For someone with the ability to use magic—
hasithara
—their power is stronger in those places. For true mages, supposedly, those places are a
source
of power.” He shut the cabinet door behind him and leaned against it. “And according to legend and the bards, when powerful magic is done, it can backlash through those same places of power.”

“Are you saying that
magic
made Estendall erupt?” Piran asked skeptically.

“Something happened yesterday that put anyone with a hedge witch’s crumb of power flat on their backs,” Ifrem replied. “Today, Estendall explodes. We hear hints that the warden-mages’ magic isn’t working right. I think someone’s tapping into the places of power, creating a backlash.” He paused.

“Evath told me that the old man he got the map from almost never came out of his room. Seemed to be scared of his shadow. Evath wondered if someone might have been looking for him—or for the maps.”

“That’s not as crazy as it sounds,” Piran said. “I’ve heard rumors that Prokief has taken bribes from Donderath on more than one occasion to make sure someone in Velant disappeared. It might have taken the old man’s enemies a while to catch up with him.”

“Do you really think Prokief’s mages had something to do with the volcano?” Blaine scoffed. “They’re strong enough to bully the convicts, but…”

“Nothing like King Merrill’s battle mages,” Ifrem finished for him. “Or, we can guess, the battle mages of Meroven and the other kingdoms.”

“Gods save us,” Blaine murmured. “You think it’s the war causing this?”

Ifrem shrugged. “Do you have a better explanation?”

Verran eyed their host. “For an innkeeper, you know a lot about magic.”

Ifrem turned away. “We all were something else before we came to Velant,” he said quietly.

“I know one doesn’t ask about the past up here,” Blaine said. “But I have the feeling that whatever is happening stands to cause us all a lot of grief. If there’s a way to keep Prokief off our backs—keep him from taking it out on the colonists—I’d like to figure out what it is.”

Ifrem was quiet for a moment as if struggling with himself, and then shrugged. “I should have figured you’d ask when I showed you the map. I was assistant to Lord Arrington’s senior mage.”

Verran raised an eyebrow. “You’re a mage?”

Ifrem chuckled. “No. I was assistant to a mage. Chosen because I could read and write and because I couldn’t do any magic and therefore couldn’t steal any secrets.”

“So what did you steal?”

“Nothing of value. My master, the mage, helped to… advance… Lord Arrington’s fortunes. After a while, the lord grew worried that my master knew too many secrets. He betrayed my master and had him killed.”

“Why didn’t they kill you, too?”

Ifrem gave a bitter grin. “I ran away the night my master was taken. I left the city, figuring that Lord Arrington would want rid of me, too. Loose ends, you know. He sent his men after me, and I was pretty sure none of the king’s guards would take my side if it came to a fight, so I did the only thing I could.”

“You got yourself arrested,” Blaine supplied.

Ifrem nodded. “Stole some fruit in plain view of the guards. Once I was in custody, Lord Arrington couldn’t easily get to me without a reason. I figured transport to Velant was better than losing my head.”

“And do you still think that?” Blaine asked.

“On good days,” Ifrem replied.

“So the long and short of it is, you know enough about how magic works to be dangerous, but you can’t do any yourself,” Verran said.

“Guilty as charged.”

Blaine met his eyes. “We understand why you wouldn’t want Prokief and his mages to know about you—or the map. Your secret is safe.”

Ifrem laid a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t already know that, Mick,” he said. “Trouble is coming. If I can help, I’m happy to do it.”

“If trouble comes, we’ll need all the help we can get,” Blaine replied.

W
ITH ALSIBETH’S WARNING WEIGHING ON HIS
mind, Connor declined Engraham’s offer of a room for the night. He took the two lidded buckets of bitterbeer and made his way back up the hill toward Quillarth Castle.

Night had fallen and yet the streets were packed with people. He heard snippets of conversation about the strange bells in the city, comments that fell to whispers when he grew closer. He moved as quickly as he could, given the press of the crowd, guessing that Garnoc would be anxious enough for word that he would forgive a bit of spilled ale.

“Got a taste for the bitters, I see,” the guard at the gate said with a nod toward his buckets as he waved him through the entrance.

“My master said there was only one thing that would quench his thirst,” Connor replied with a joviality he did not feel.

“Might wander that way myself when I’m off duty,” the guard said with a wistful look at the buckets. “Been a while since I’ve had some.”

Connor breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the castle without incident. Nothing had interrupted his return, and his
memory, thankfully, was intact.
As soon as I give Garnoc my report, I’ll tell him about the other times
, Connor swore to himself.
I couldn’t live with myself if I’ve somehow betrayed his trust. No matter the consequences.

Connor hurried up the back steps and knocked at the door to Garnoc’s rooms. He had barely finished knocking when the door opened.

“Did you see her? What happened? Do you know what made the bells ring?”

Connor had expected Garnoc to be sound asleep. The hour was past the late watch, and it was normally Connor’s custom to spend the night in town when he was sent on such an errand. That Garnoc was still awake gave Connor to realize that his master had a good idea of the nature of Alsibeth’s readings.

“Come in, quickly now.” Lord Garnoc looked both ways down the deserted castle corridor before nearly pulling Connor inside the room. “I’m glad you made it back tonight.”

Connor held out the lidded buckets. Garnoc took them and set them to the side, motioning Connor to a chair. He listened carefully as Connor recounted his conversation with the amulet seller, the tide of people fleeing the city, the supply and convict ships at anchor, and Alsibeth’s dark predictions. When Connor finished, Garnoc stood and poured them both ale from the buckets Connor had retrieved. Connor moved to make his confession, but Garnoc spoke first.

“I know you haven’t slept, m’boy, but I don’t think there’s time to lose.” He reached under his shirt and withdrew Penhallow’s pendant, pulling it over his head and handing it to Connor.

“Take this. Do you know where the king’s library is?”

“Yes, of course.”

Garnoc nodded. “Put the pendant on—and keep it on. Go
to the library and look for Valtyr’s map.” He paused. “Ring for Geddy. We can trust him to be discreet. He also has access to the seneschal’s keys. You might need an extra hand. I’ll vouch for you if anyone questions, say that you’re doing it on behalf of the War Council. Search high and low. I’m convinced more than ever that Penhallow’s instinct is correct. King Merrill’s called the Council together at dawn. The timing of the gathering suggests bad news.”

Connor took a silver bell that sat on the side table and leaned into the corridor, giving it a couple of sound shakes. Within a few minutes, Var Geddy appeared, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Geddy was close to Connor’s age, a tall, angular young man with dark hair that hung lank and straight around his sharp features, often covering one eye. Geddy had always reminded Connor of a blackbird, clever but twitchy.

“Master Garnoc rang?”

Connor drew Geddy into Garnoc’s room and filled him in quickly to the mission as Garnoc nodded in approval. When Connor had finished, Geddy looked from one to the other.

“You want me to let you into the king’s library?”

“Yes, that’s what we need,” Garnoc replied as if it were an utterly normal request.

“In the middle of the night, without
bothering
Master Lynge or the king about it?” Geddy looked skeptical. His master, Lynge the seneschal, was an efficient, intelligent man without a trace of humor. Connor felt a stab of sympathy; if they were caught, Geddy would no doubt be on the receiving end of one of Lynge’s notorious tirades.

“No need to wake them,” Garnoc answered with a smile. “After all, I plan to take the item Connor retrieves with me to
the War Council meeting in a few hours. It’s hardly as if we’re spiriting something out of the castle. I’d merely like to have some important—and overlooked—information at hand to share with the king.”

“Of course,” Geddy replied, though he drew out the words, making his skepticism plain.

“Tomorrow night I’ll be glad to show my thanks with a few tankards of bitterbeer down at the Rooster and Pig,” Connor threw in. “There’s a wench down there who caught your eye, if I remember rightly.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially and grinned. “I’m friendly with Engraham, the tavern master. I could put in a good word about you to him, and perhaps he can nudge the girl in your direction.”

Geddy’s cheeks colored, but the offer seemed to overcome his reluctance. “All right. But let’s go before the morning servants are about. Just your luck it was that I happened to draw night duty tonight.”

Slept through night duty is more like it
, Connor thought, but did not say anything.

Connor and Geddy encountered no one on their walk to the king’s library. It was still a few candlemarks before dawn, and except for the servants in the kitchen, few in the castle were awake and about. Connor had slipped the pendant under his tunic before calling for Geddy. The obsidian disk was cold against his skin. As they walked, Connor mused how best to explain the pendant to his companion if the search for the map forced him to take the disk from its hiding place.

Think nothing of it. Just a little trinket given to me by an immortal vampire. Probably find a dozen just like it down at the market
, Connor thought dryly as he considered his options.
We think it’s an ancient magical amulet created by a really powerful mage who’s disappeared, but there’s nothing to worry about. Right.
Connor sighed.
As usual, I’ll just make something up when—if—the time comes.

Geddy carried a small lantern to light their way. He kept the lantern’s shutters nearly closed and more than once, the thin young man glanced behind them, his pale-green eyes scanning the corridor.

“We’re here,” Connor whispered as they reached the door.

Geddy handed him the lantern and fumbled in his pocket, then withdrew a ring of keys. “One of these should work,” Geddy mumbled. His hands shook as he tried three keys before finding one that turned the tumblers. Geddy tugged the heavy door open and urgently gestured for Connor to enter. With a final cautious look up and down the hallway, he eased the door shut.

Once the massive library door was closed behind them, he let the lantern shine with its full light.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Geddy set the lantern on a table and moved quickly around the room, lighting a few more candles.

“Yes… and no. Have you ever been in here before?” Connor looked around the room. Quillarth Castle’s library was something of a legend on the Continent. King Merrill’s great-grandfather valued scholarship, and collected scrolls and manuscripts from across Donderath and the other kingdoms. The library and the tutors brought in for King Merrill’s grandfather’s siblings became the talk of the land, and sparked a fashion among the nobles. It was whispered that the library contained quite a few occult texts and magical grimoires along with more prosaic histories and tales of great warriors.

“Once or twice, Lord Lynge sent me up with documents for the king to sign,” Geddy replied. “From the first time I saw it, I fancied the room. I read well enough to give my master a hand,
but I doubt I could read these books. I hear a lot of them have drawings in them, and writing in colored ink with gold. I’d sure like to have a look at those!”

The room was not one of the largest in the castle, but the comfort of its furnishings gave Connor a surprising insight into their usually taciturn king. Its wide, deep fireplace was unlit, but the cushioned chair near the hearth looked well worn, and a lap robe lay draped across one of the chair arms. A side table with glass decanters and goblets offered a selection of brandy and whiskey. Connor had obviously intruded into the king’s inner sanctum, and his nervousness at the possibility of being caught increased.

“I doubt what we’re looking for is quite that exciting,” Connor murmured. “And it’s going to be hidden, so we’ll need to look sharp.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Where could someone hide a map in here that it would stay hidden?”