Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (13 page)

  George hurried to her and knelt. Concentrating, he muttered, “Scan vital signs.”

 
:Scanning... Heart rate steady but slow, no visible sign of damage
.
:

 
“What happened?”

  The beast shimmered and trembled. “Mage came. Tried to hurt her... Hurt him.”

  “I just bet you did, girl,” George muttered as he encouraged Se’and’s body to rebuff the enchantment, which had obviously been intended to stun her.

  She shook her head. “Not me… it.”

  Fri’il looked down at the open tapestry and gaped. “Je’orj, I think you had better look at this.” George stared, knowing that the scene had changed minutely. The Cathartan lord who had been standing amid the mages was now struggling with an elfblood.

  Se’and’s eyelids fluttered and she suddenly took a deep breath.
      

 
“You saved me,” she whispered.

  “What?” he muttered back as in image rose in his mind.

Se’and had been concentrating on the tapestry. The scene did not completely match with what she knew of the Legend of the Black Swords. In the legend, Cathartans were able to face mage––wrought enemies armed with the fey dark metal swords. If this was a depiction of the legend, it did not match the story she had always been told by De’ohr, the Mother Shaman of the House of Ryff.

  But what else could it be? If it were a prophecy, why was a Cathartan lord

standing amid mages and not leading the physical assault on their enemies? She looked at the lord carefully. He was black robed and hooded, dressed in garb as Cathartan lords wore centuries ago. She had seen paintings in Catha of men dressed in such a style.

  The lord’s back was to her. She realized he bore a staff, only part of which could be seen as he held it before him. Then she blinked and stared. “What?” she muttered to herself. The lord’s head turned. He stood more in profile, the staff more clearly visible.  

Raven had been bored. She hated being dressed in even more confining clothing. She considered disturbing Se’and yet again to ask her if she could rid herself of the garb for a time; when she sensed magery at work.

 
Se’and only faintly heard the opening of the door as Raven cried a warning and saw the mage opening the door. A spell blasted outward and caught Se’and in its grip. Its passage half stunned Raven as well, staggering her. Se’and’s body glowed as she sensed a warding building around her.

  The mage turned and saw Raven for the first time and frowned. He raised his hand and began muttering another spell to deal with her. What he did not notice as Se’and’s body rose from the floor, while she strangled, trying to scream as her body glowed, the tapestry beneath her suddenly glowed, as well.

  There was a mental cry of ‘NO!” as the tapestry began to float up off the floor and orient itself parallel to the wall behind them as a terrible wind poured forth.

  The wind grabbed the astonished mage, who found himself heaved off his feet. “No! This cannot be!” he shouted as the wind sucked him across the room and into the fluttering maw of the tapestry.

As Raven gaped, the edges folded around the mage and swallowed him.

  Abruptly the wind was gone and the tapestry fell back to the ground beside Se’and who dropped, unconscious.

When Se’and awoke she was in bed and George sat beside her. He helped her to sit up and gave her a cup of water to sip. Once she had, he asked her if she remembered what had happened. “Huh?  I remember looking into the tapestry, thinking about... about the Cathartan lord it depicted… He… it was like he was turning to look at me… Then I heard the door opening and saw the elf’s face and a spell hit me. I couldn’t breathe and felt, well, it was as if the battle the tapestry depicted was raging around me and that you were there trying to protect me. Now isn’t that foolish? You’re trying to protect me, when it is my job to protect you.”

  “You remember nothing else?” George asked as he saw the room rippling.

 
He frowned seeing Fri’il in the bed beside him as she shook her head, muttering, “No, nothing else… just that you were calling…”

 
The rippling ended, as Se’and lay back before him, “…my name.”

 
George shivered as Fri’il entered the room. She was shook her head, “Funny, I was suddenly dizzy.”

 
Frowning, George replied, “Go back to sleep, Se’and. We can discuss this later.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured exhaustedly. Se’and quickly fell into a healthy, welcome slumber.

  George went over to Raven, who now stood defensively before the

tapestry. Fri’il joined them. “Se’and will be all right, won’t she?”

  “Yes, just fine.  But I am no closer to understanding what happened here. Someone called to me.”

 
Fri’il swallowed hard, suggesting, “Take a good look at the Cathartan lord with the Imperial mages.”

  Glancing down at the tapestry, he noticed that the Cathartan was facing him. “I thought his back was to us before.”

  :
He was,
: staff stated, providing the memory.

  With a nod, Fri’il replied. “He was, but don’t you notice anything else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s you,” she muttered ever so softly.

  “What?” he stared. “Staff, increase focal acuity.”

  The staff flared.
:Increasing magnitude by power of ten.:

  The Carthartan lord bore a wooden staff, which seemed to be crowned in white light. They seemed to be of the same height, which could be deceptive, yet the profile seemed to be unmistakably his own. “Increase magnification.”

 
:Acknowledged. Adding another power of ten.:

  His cheek was marred by a slight scar. But otherwise it seemed clearly his own face. He grew dizzy. “Return to normal acuity.”

  “You think this is a prophecy, don’t you?” he said.

  Fri’il shrugged. “How can it be? How can the scene change like this? Even my Mother Shaman never taught the legend this way! But it might explain why Sire Ryff and Mother Shaman De’ohr bonded us to you without warning. It could also explain the Demonlord’s fear of you!”

“Fri’il, I have no intention of being held up as some kind of messiah! I only want to go home, which means I’ve got to get to the Highmage and have him send me back.”

  “Yet, fate may have other plans for you, Je’orj Bradlei,” she answered, taking his hand in hers.

  He shook his head, “Then I will fight my fate. I need one other

thing from you, Fri’il.”

  “What, my lord?”

  “Help me roll that tapestry and tie it up tight.”

  Raven was only too relieved to see them roll up the tapestry, yet she felt that it was already too late for her foster–father to fight his fate. The tapestry made that clear enough, she knew with a shiver. Or did it, she wondered, because she remembered seeing that facial scar? And something else… something about his eyes.

 
Staff, what color are father’s eyes?”

 
:Brown,:
staff replied.
:Why?:

 
She didn’t answer wanting to open up the tapestry again, because she was certain the tapestry depicted the Cathartan lord with blue eyes.

Legend of the Black Swords

Chapter 20

T
he mage had gone to the hotel and never seen again. The Lyai looked up from the report. “I do not like this, Terhun... A mage appears interested in some seemingly insignificant event, then vanishes without a trace.”

 
“I would not put it quite that way, Milord.”

  “Excuse me, a mage who vanishes from almost all memory, indicates a rather powerful enchantment at work. I take it that the mage must have been on the list as a suspected minion of the Demonlord.”

  “For us to have shadowed him would indicate that.” Such tasks were part of the very mandate of “The Service.” Terhun was clearly frustrated. “What seems clear, Milord, is that the mage must have learned about the auction too late to stop the Debtor’s sale of the tapestries. He went to Hanrahan for details, then went to the merchant’s apartment at the hotel… and effectively, vanished.”

 
“The merchant has made no complaint of confiscated goods?”                           

“No complaint or evidence that he has sold any of the tapestries.”

  The Lyai frowned, “I take it you have attempted to check the apartment?”

  “We have been trying.” The Lyai nodded in understanding. The Lyai’s great––great grandfather had established “The Service,” as it was referred to by those who knew it even existed, was the Province’s spy service, something the Empire would frown upon if it made itself known. “The Service” had saved the lives of the royal family and averted a number of attempts to promote civil war. That prevented the Empress from having to officially note its existence and censure her royal provincial cousins.

  Terhun had risen rapidly in The Service over the years. His patrons had taught him hard lessons since childhood. The one that seemed most applicable at the moment was: “When it comes to a mage on the list, be certain that nothing is as it seems.”

  “I take it that The Service is now investigating this foreign merchant,” the

Lyai commented and looked more closely at the report, “Jeo d’Aere of the Crescent Lands.”

  “Indeed, we are, Milord.”

  “Good, for I want to know if he is a threat to the Empire, or a most unlikely ally. And an ally, it appears, is something I have great need of.” Terhun nodded, seeing the stack of reports piled high on the Lyai’s desk. Troubling times were the most critical time for The Service.

  “The attack on the border, your agents reported?”

  “Niota, surprisingly, held the incursion back before our troops arrived. Something The Service also cannot explain.”

Terhun frowned, “Milord, according to the report, the Trelorians were halted by ogres.”

 
“My advisors have told me to discount that as nonsense.”

 
Shaking his head, Terhun replied, “Too many strange things seem to be happening for it to be wise to discount anything.”

  “Ah, the wisdom of The Service.  I wish I could believe the world was so simple and straightforward a place.”

  Terhun nodded, “The Service will find your answers, Milord.”

  “I hope so. I very much pray so, because our Scryer’s Network certainly isn’t… Any ideas as to why that might be?”

  To that, the agent had no answer.

#

Se’and’s memory was a bit fuzzy, but one thing she was certain of was that she wanted to take another look at the tapestry.

 
“Absolutely not,” George replied. “That tapestry stays as it is.”

 
“Je’orj, this is none of your affair.” She turned and knelt beside the bound tapestry. He smiled thinly as she touched the bindings. There was a stinging spark. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, abruptly sucking on her tingling fingertips. “That hurt! Remove your ward!”

 
“Sorry, but I won’t do that.”

  “Fri’il, help me!” she pleaded to the other Cathartan Sister.

  The younger woman, disguised as a servant, shook her head, “Its better this way...  We have enough to deal with… without letting whatever it is, loose.”

  “That’s ridiculous. This tapestry is like the others I bought. It depicts

nothing more than the Legend of the Black Swords.” 

  “Perhaps the others do, but you don’t believe that one does, Se’and, and neither do I,” the blonde replied. 

  Se’and marched over to the other tapestries and unrolled the nearest.

  The scene before her showed the charging Cathartans, flanked by Imperial standards and troops. The Sisters were armed with the famed black swords of legend. Se’and turned around and glanced at the forbidden rolled tapestry, knowing it depicted the Imperials mages doing battle, while incredibly a Cathartan lord stood in their midst. Yet, the Cathartans had no mages. The closest were their Mother Shamen, but there had certainly never been
a mage who was a man among her people! Because of the Curse, there were no more than forty men in all of Cathart these days. Everyone knew that there was no such thing as a human mage.

  She gazed suddenly at her Lord by Bond, Je’orj Bradlei and hastily revised that. Je’orj was the exception to all rules. He was not rightly a mage at all, but an arch––eol––ogist, a man from another world.

  Stubbornly, Se’and urged Raven, to help her view the other tapestries. Fri’il glanced at Je’orj, who shook his head minutely. Se’and half dragged the tapestries apart and began to sort them by scene. None depicted the mages; for that Fri’il and Raven both were fervently grateful.

  Se’and looked musingly back at Je’orj, saying to Raven, “Move that one over there.”

  The staff in her lord’s hands began to glow as he muttered, “Scan.”

 
:Acknowledged,:
the computer responded.

  The scene played before him. Color patterns, weave information, data on the thread and most likely means of producing the necessary dyes flashed across his mind. Yet, one question was still foremost:
how had the forbidden tapestry changed its scene ever so subtly?

The journeyman Faeryn mage found himself “encouraged” to answer the man’s questions. He wore a talisman which disrupted the rules of magery in a small space. The activation of the talisman had been Dustin’s only warning that things had suddenly gone awry.

 
He was ushered into an alley, then into a dilapidated building. “Please, sit down, young man.”

  Dustin frowned, “What do you want?”

  “Just answer a few questions and you’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll not betray the Faeryn!”

  The man sighed, “Oh, course not, lad. Your oath protects you from that. No, what my Masters wish to know is much simpler than that.”

  Uncertain, Dustin stared at him. “What do you want, then?”

  “Information about some tapestries.”