Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (34 page)

 
Sometimes it paid to have a friend with the senses of an animal. Raven

intercepted the servant bringing the Lyai and Esperanza their dinners. The scryer wore a lovely robe over her chainmail, which suddenly felt damp. Her eyes dilated as the Lyai clasped her hands in sudden worry.

  There was a crash. “Sorry!” Raven shouted as she brought the Lyai his dinner, but not the scryer’s.

 
Esperanza abruptly relaxed and said with a glance at Raven, “Think nothing of it, my dear. I can wait.”

 
The Lyai said, “You can share my plate, Milady.”

 
She met his gaze and nodded. “Why, thank you, Your Grace.”

The assistant cook could not be found when the Lyai’s Guardsmen asked who had prepared Lady Esperanza’s dish. A servant frowned, knowing his Master would not be pleased by this latest failure. But at least the assistant cook’s body would likely not be found until morning.

Lord Winterlorn arrived to the Lyai’s dinner quite late. He had locked himself in his study for hours. A Herald announced him and all eyes looked at him. But he only returned the gaze of one.

 
Esperanza frowned, then felt… damp all over. She gasped and rose from her chair, “Grandfather.”

 
That announcement created a resounding silence.

 
Constandine grimaced, watching plans within plans collapse like a house of tarot cards.

 
Lord Winterlorn stiffly marched forward, “Esperanza, you remind me of your grandmother at that age. Now, you lot hear me, I recant my folly and claim my late son’s half human daughter as House Winterlorn’s heir. ”

 
With that announcement the Mage Guild lost its greatest champion at Court to the young elflord who had risen to the young lady’s support, unbidden. The Lyai never let loose her hand.

 
‘Excellent.’
Esperanza heard in her mind.

 
George frowned and glanced around the chamber, seeking the

source of that telepathic announcement as did Raven. Balfour schooled his features and tried not to react at all.

 
‘Don’t worry, human. I mean those two no harm. In fact, I think I’m going to like it here.’

Contest of Swords

Chapter 57

“T
he Provincial Court of Lyai is now called into Special Session!” the Herald intoned.

 
Thump, thump.
The Lyai rapped his scepter upon the dais floor. “Challenge has been called by Archmage Constandine of the Mage Guild. I hereby present our panel of judges,” judges who had been stared at since the moment they entered the chamber because everyone at Court was so astonished to see his choice. “Master Hanrihan, Debtor’s Man, lord of the third cadet branch of House Autumnhaven; Lady Presilla Smythsdotter of the Cleaner’s Guild, representing House Springhallow; And Ebrim Winterhil, renowned dealer of weaponry, formerly General of the Lyai’s Legion.”

 
Each rose as announced, then sat flanked by Imperial legionnaires –– old legionnaires who had trailed their honored general’s steps for more than four decades. That these three were never seen in Court was an understatement. That any desired to see them had always been in doubt.

The Debtor’s Man was someone both loathed and feared –– and normally impossible to threaten. It had been tried. The fellow hated his family with a passion… he had sent his own son to prison for stealing to pay debts incurred in gaming, a gambit likely intended to entrap his father. However, not only was the son working at hard labor, but so were those who had run the establishment and those who had taken the fool for every copper he owned. The winners had neglected to pay their taxes on the winnings and had spent the spoils of the game. The establishment had found itself under Imperial review. It had used talismans that made dice roll as they pleased, rather than proper enchantments should have forestalled.

 
Lady Presilla was another matter. Spells could clean clothing, but the

lady’s talented workers made clothes loo
k better once cleaned than they

had looked before. The joke was that you could take clothes that were rags to her shop and you’d receive them back so beautiful you were almost afraid to wear them. They were practically works of art.

  Cross Lady Presilla at your peril or the day you wished to wear your finest clothes to a wedding, you would find them turned to dust. It had happened. And her friends were tailors and seamstresses who would suddenly be nowhere to be found.

 
She actually smiled at the assemblage ever so pleasantly. The Lyai covered his mouth and coughed, stiffing the impulse to laugh. Terhun had found it impossible to enter the chamber since he still was laughing.

 
“Present to me the bane sword for our panel of judges to consider, Archmage,” the Lyai commanded.

Constandine rose, carrying the sheathed silver sword across the chamber. He paused before the Lyai, the scryer and Chancellor, turning to the Court and faced the panel of judges. To say he was less than pleased was an understatement, yet he couldn’t call them impartial, because they weren’t partial to anyone. They loathed the Great Game and did their best to keep free of anything smacking of it.

  “This sword was forged by the Dwarves of Tane. My Guildmaster’s imbued it with banes that will make it never break –– be it to thwart goblins or Demonfriends, nor shall it ever rust and its edge shall be forever keen! I present you a sword fit for the Empress herself!”

 
Master Galt strode forth with a sheathed sword. He presented it to the Lyai, Court and the panel. He only partially drew it. There was a gasp. The metal was black. “Your Grace, I present you a sword crafted by man. It was forged outside the Empire. It is rare and the bane will foil all enchantments intended to harass you. This is what the Faeryn offer and our most skilled craftsmasters have set the enchantment. You will find its like or match nowhere else.”

 
The Lyai said, “You both honor me. Now, to the testing.”

Archmage Constandine held his bane sword before him. Two sets of various metal bars were laid out before him. He randomly chose, practically dancing as he swung the sword and chopped elvin silver, high gold, great bronze –– the elvin-wrought metals reinforced to be nearly indestructible.

Each was cut cleanly with but a single stroke.

  He left the judges to inspect the sword.

 
“Keen and without nick,” the former general announced, as his companions nodded.

 
Constandine retrieved the sword and returned to his seat.

 
Galt rose and approached the panel. He bowed, presenting the sword which he unsheathed. He did not swing the blade; he merely touched the remaining bar of elvin silver. There was an explosion. The Court left our gasps and several raised defensive wardings. When the smoke cleared, the remains could be seen melting and dripping on the floor. Galt touched the sword to the great bronze and again, there was an explosion.

 
“Foul!” Constandine cried. “Galt is wielding Faeryn magery!”

 
The Lyai frowned, “Lady Esperanza, has magery been raised in this test?”

 
“I detect none, Your Grace.”

 
“Honored Judges?”

 
Master Hanrahan rose, “Master Galt, perhaps, if I give it a try.”

 
“Please,” the Faeryn mage said, bringing him the sword, which the general eyed with great interest.

 
The Debtor’s Man left the table approaching the high gold bar.

He paused, then carefully stretched out his arm and touched the enchanted metal, which exploded.

  There was complete silence in the room. Grinning like a kid

discovering fireworks, George thought, as Hanrahan returned to the table and set the sword before his fellow judges. Lady Presilla could be heard muttering, “Amazing.”

  Constandine’s heart missed a beat.

 
“It’s a trick! No bane sword can do such a thing!”

 
The Lyai laughed, “No Mage Guild bane sword you mean?”

 
The Archmage raged, then without thinking raised his bane sword and muttered one word. The sword flew from his hand straight at the Lyai’s smug face.

Esperanza felt damp and her gaze went unfocused as the Lyai laughed and said distantly, “No… Ma—ge… Gui—ld… ba—ane… swo—”

 
‘This will not do at all… LY— AI, your avatar is threatened.’

 
“—rd you –– mean?”

 
Constandine’s bane sword shot from his fingers like an arrow straight at the Lyai beside her, then the palace wards flared as they had not in millennia, the floor split and rose up in a column that blocked the sword’s path. Sword impacted stone, was slowed, then deflected. Stone shattered and the sword clattered to the floor.

 
“The wards!” people muttered in astonishment.

 
“How dare you, Archmage! Seize him!” The Lyai ordered.

 
Constandine gaped, seemingly shocked by his own actions, “I — I beg your pardon, Your Grace!” He desperately looked about him, “I was under a compulsion — that foul Faeryn mage cast a compulsion!

  
One of the Guild Masters shouted, “Arrest the Faeryn! He’s behind this!”

 
Guardsmen bracketed the archmage, who shouted, “It was him, not I! I swear!”

 
Esperanza frowned as she saw her grandfather step down from the gallery, “Constandine, what drivel is this? Galt cast no compulsion! I was looking right at you — that word you said launching the sword… what was it?”

 
“What?” Constandine muttered, sweat beading his brow.

 
“It was not an elvin word I saw your lips shape… It was another.”

 
Former General Ebrim Winterhil gasped, thinking hard about the shape of Constandine’s mouth forming that word, then proclaimed, “I saw him cast it. It was High Goblin!”

 
Constandine’s eyes widened, he cast a warding, which sent the closing guardsmen flailing backward. The Archmage then sent leven bolts of pure energy at the Lyai. George grabbed the Lyai and Esperanza and pulled them down as the following bolts blasted the Lyai’s seat and the wall behind it. The explosion was deafening. Hanrihan grabbed the black metal bane sword from where it lay and rose up and struck the next leven bolts out of the air. The metal glowed as harmless sparks showered with each impact.

 
Next there was the ripping sound of fabric. Constandine suddenly choked. The Lady Persilla was pointing at him, “I thought I recognized those robes.”

 
Constandine struggled, constricted by his suddenly far too tight clothing. He found he couldn’t move. The fabric was stuffing itself in his mouth,

gagging him. Unable to move or speak, he toppled backward.

  The Court was in bedlam as Esperanza’s grandfather shouted, “I’ll see every Guild mage in the Courtyard in five minutes! Should any here fail to attend, you will be branded a traitor like the Archmage there!”

 
The Lyai shouted, “Order! Return to your seats!”

 
Master Galt took the black sword from Master Hanrihan, “Thank you, Good Sir.”

 
“That — was, uh, rather exciting. Quite a sword… Your Grace, it’s got my vote.”

 
Lady Presilla laughed, “Mine, too!”

 
The general nodded, “Archmage Talik is cleared and Archmage Constandine stands so charged.”

 
Terhun had come in with a half dozen legionnaires and several of Galt’s Faeryn colleagues. Constandine moaned and began to shimmer, his face shifting at which point Terhun gasped, “Well, I’ll be… Your Grace, this is not Lord Constandine!”

 
“What?” the Lyai cried.

 
“This is Lord Erianda, who has only recently been seen in the city. He’s a suspected agent of the Demonlord.”

 
“Terhun, I want to know what has happened to the Archmage! And let nothing happen to this creature. Having lost the treasonous Lady Mother was bad enough.”

 
“Your Grace, you have my word!”

 
The legionnaires grabbed the prisoner and carried him out.

 
The Lyai faced the Court, “I will have no more foolishness from any of you! These games you’ve been playing end now! Listen, and listen well, Master Hanrahan, you saved my life. I am in your debt…” He chuckled and continued, “In the debt of the Debtor’s Man. In gratitude, I appoint you my financial minister responsible for our Privy Purse, and, of course, the Province’s Tax Collection.”