Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

Hoyle was confused.  Apparently, Celia had not brought her
superior in on her suspicions of his part in the theft of the stones.  At
least, that appeared to be the case so far.  He was missing some piece of the
puzzle.

The Emperor touched an earring on his left ear, and it
flared briefly before settling itself back to its normal swirling appearance. 
The Emperor turned and faced him.  “How did you escape your cell?” he inquired
brusquely.

“I had help, your Eminence.  It was after an attack by the
same warlock who attacked the three of us in the guild tower.  He was freeing
his ally in the other cell, who was captured in the raid also.” He had nothing
but the truth to hide behind – at least in
this
particular matter.

“How do we know what you say is true?” His voice was
powerful, demanding.  He had not moved from the foot of the throne.

“Beg your pardon, your Eminence, but you’ll just have to
take my word for it.” He ventured.  He wouldn’t go back to the cell; he would
rather die before that happened. 
I have nothing to lose. 
The Emperor
looked at him with his penetrating grey eyes, locking eyes and wills.  Hoyle
did not flinch even though this man could order his death with a word.  He did,
however, look away after a short time, unable to stand the powerful,
scrutinizing gaze.  He felt as if his soul was being laid bare before this man,
and he did not want to visit those memories.

“But, you see, I don’t have to,” the Emperor stated.  Hoyle
flinched at those words, expecting the worst.  He looked at the Emperor in
confusion mixed with fear.  The Emperor gestured to one of the guards, and then
turned and sat back down on the throne, adjusting his robes absently as they
waited.  The Emperor, once settled, gestured to the First Chancellor.

“I have had a brief discussion with these women here,” the First
Chancellor started, gesturing at Celia, Hicks, Salrissa and Zazaril, who was
apparently the head of Celia’s embassy, and therefore most likely her
superior.  “They have filled us in on your ‘investigation’, and feel it may be
related to other incidents that have occurred in the City.”

The guard returned to the room, ushering three figures into
the audience chambers; Robart was walking stiffly using wooden crutches to
support himself with the help of the healer that tended Hoyle’s wounds after
each session of torture.  Walking a couple of paces behind the pair was a
smaller figure – Sathran.  He looked at Hoyle and smiled, shrugging his
shoulders.  At his appearance, the First Chancellor started.

“What is that
slave
doing here?!  Remove him
immediately!” the First Chancellor ordered.  The guard escorting the trio
turned red in embarrassment, and grabbed Sathran’s shoulder and turned him from
the room, smacking his head and kicking his behind to hurry him to the door. 
Hoyle noted the Emperor’s complete lack of interest.  As things settled down,
Robart and the healer moved to stand in front of, though several paces back
from, the throne.  The First Chancellor addressed Robart, “What have you to say
about this man?”  He nodded his head towards Hoyle.

“Tough son-of-a-bitch,” Robart stated. 

The First Chancellor cleared his throat nervously and
glanced sideways at the Emperor.  “I meant towards his character,” he directed
further.

Robart turned his head a little, and looked at Hoyle from
the corner of his eye.  What he had to say was not something he wanted to
admit, it was clear from his stalling, he was trying to avoid it.

“Captain, you will respond.”  It was an order, not a
question.

“He helped me and I lived, when he could have left me to
die.”  Robart looked like he had eaten lemons.  He appeared to be having
trouble standing steady.  The healer was steadying him with one hand.

The First Chancellor looked at the healer, a Daughter of
Saveesha by her holy symbol – a crescent moon, and asked “Do you concur?  Is
that what happened?”

“It is a little more involved than that.  He not only bound
the captain’s wounds, which would not have saved his life directly, he sent
someone to fetch me.  Had I not arrived when I did to heal him, the captain
would not have survived,” the diminutive woman answered quietly.  “There was
also, of course, the other bodies that were found in the corridor, slain with
magic of some sort.  This also lends credit to the story, if I overheard
correctly, that a warlock freed the other prisoner.  I believe the captain will
agree to this version of events.”  The captain grunted.

“That will be all Daughter.”  The First Chancellor looked
mildly annoyed.  Hoyle suspected that he did not like making mistakes, much
less having them aired in front of the Emperor.

As the guards escorted the large man and small healer away,
the Emperor made a subtle gesture, and the First Chancellor signalled to the
guards.  “Take them away!”

At the First Chancellor’s dismissal, Celia just about
fainted, clutching her quafa'shilaar amulet tightly in her fist.  The guards
surrounded the five of them, and helped them to their feet.  The group was then
led off through one of the many doors located in small alcoves around the
perimeter of the room.  Once through the door, they were herded down a short
corridor with doors on each side to a ‘T’ intersection at the end, a hallway
going both left and right.  They were ushered through a door across from the
hall from which they had come.  Celia caught a quick glimpse of stairs down the
hallway on the left, but no more, before she was led, not ungently, into the
room.

As soon as the guards left, locking the door behind them,
Hicks and Salrissa immediately pulled Hoyle into a corner of the room and began
talking in whispers.  Celia looked him over.  He looked different than she had
last seen him; a little harder, less flamboyant.  He had several new visible
scars on his face, one from left ear to chin, and one from above his right eye
down to his mouth.  His right eye was still intact, but it was apparent that
his nose had been broken at least once, and healed slightly off.  She was
surprised to find his new look lent him a heroic air.

She had time to survey the room, as the two women did not
appear interested in including her in the conversation any time soon.  You
would have thought they would be more grateful with Celia managing to get them
up to the sky citadel, and an audience with the Emperor himself.  Zazaril had
only implied that they would be able to get to see the First Chancellor.  She
thought back to that morning after she had told Zazaril what she wanted.

Zazaril had been speechless for quite a while, her mouth
opening and closing without a sound.  “You want what?!” she exclaimed in
disbelief when she found her voice.

“I want you to help me and two friends get up to the
Imperial Sky Citadel and talk to someone in charge to try and find a mutual
acquaintance.  I figured with your position as head of the Embassy, you would
be able to find a way.  Was I wrong?”  Celia could not believe she was being so
bold, and with her mentor to suit.

Zazaril moved to the east window looking down the Trade Way
towards the Eastern Trade Gate.  She was tapping her fingers on the window
sill, lost in thought.  “You were not wrong.”

“So you can get us up to speak to someone about our missing
friend?”  Celia sounded hopeful.

“I thought you said he was an acquaintance?”

“My acquaintance, but my acquaintances’ friend.” Celia
rebutted in a neutral tone.

“I will see what I can do.  No promises.  After the ruckus
and alarms from the citadel last night, I suspect that it will be on lock-down,
but I will try.  I will have you sent for once I know more.”

“Thank you,” Celia offered as she left the room.  Zazaril
was still staring out the window as she eased the door closed.

A short time later, Wendinard arrived at her table in the parlour
where she was reading one of her tomes and drinking some tickleberry tea.  It
reminded her of home, and her mother.  A home she could never return to, a home
her father had banished her from when she had decided that she wanted to try
her hand at magic rather than take over the running of the estate.  Celia had assumed
it might be Zazaril, but instead Wendinard directed her to the side of the main
petitioner hall where two women were waiting for her.

On the short walk down the hall, she smiled.  At least this
time, at her direction, they asked for Wendinard directly, a person who
sometimes just shows up as soon as his name is heard, a person whom the clerks
would not be afraid to call upon.  When she found the two women, Celia did not
recognized Salrissa at first in her white fur wrap and white, ankle-length, flowered
dress with deep neckline and red bow in her hair.  She had some rouge on her
cheeks and something dark accenting her eyelashes.  She looked about as deadly
as one of the flowers on her dress.

Hicks was still in her normal attire, cloak over leather
vest, over tight, brightly coloured blouse, with dark, ankle-length, heavy
skirt over black leather boots.  She smiled at Celia’s reaction to Salrissa’s
appearance.  “That was my reaction the first time I saw her this way too,” she
said gently lifting Celia’s drooping chin closed with one finger.  “Didn’t even
know she owned a dress.”

Salrissa scowled slightly, but then transformed her face
with a sweet, innocent smile, over which she batted her eyelashes.  The effect
was startling.  “Easier to collect flies with honey, or some such nonsense,”
Salrissa offered, her face returning to its now normal exhausted, haunted look. 
“Why anyone would want flies is anyone’s guess...” she muttered wryly under her
breath as Celia led them back to the parlour.

Celia sent to the kitchen for tea for the other two women,
it still being mid-morning.  Along with the tea, the kitchen sent biscuits and
two types of jam.  The women all partook of the repast, eating slowly, each still
a little uncomfortable in the other’s company.  Each woman watching the others
without speaking, staying within their own thoughts.

Celia could still not believe the transformation that
Salrissa had undergone, from an unapproachable Valkiir leopard to this...
this... garden flower.  At least outwardly.  She suspected this was all
something to do with the fact she was a former Sister of Kass, and that there
was a chance they would be travelling to the Imperial Sky Citadel. 
Maybe
she was afraid of being recognized?

The summons from Zazaril arrived a short time after the trio
had begun, unsuccessfully, to attempt some small talk.  The attempted topics
were the spring weather and the closed Goralonian border.  The clerk led them
down to the lower level rather than up to Zazaril’s study; the lower level that
which housed the vault, the small library archives, and the gate room.  The
latter was where the clerk led them.

The room was large, about five spans each direction, and
standing near one wall was the gatal'shilaar - the magegate.  The magegate was
a large, gold arch, a span and a half tall, a span wide, holding five quafa'shilaar
the size of a person’s fist, glowing azure, garnet, vermillion, white, and violet. 
Standing just in front of the magegate was Zazaril in her stylish travelling
cloak and gown.  Several wood benches were set against the walls, and several
closed wardrobes stood in one corner.  These contained extra outerwear in case
the destination seen through the magegate indicated foul weather.

Celia turned to watch the other women’s faces as they saw a
magegate up close for the first time, or at least she assumed to be their first
time.  Hicks seemed to be slightly awed, stepping a few paces closer, while
Salrissa stayed near the door, wary.

“Zazaril, may I introduce you to my acquaintances, Reegan
Hicks and Salrissa?” Celia gestured to each woman in turn.  “Hicks, Salrissa,
this is the head of the embassy, Zazaril.”

The women all nodded to each other without speaking.  Celia
went to one of the wardrobes and borrowed a light travelling cloak, as she had
not returned to her room for her own.

Zazaril looked at the inert magegate uncertainly, and then
turned to the other two women, though her gaze included Celia.  “You must be
very careful where we go now.  One improper word or gesture could have you
imprisoned... or executed.  I have made arrangements with the First Chancellor
to meet with him to talk about your friend’s release, but he wasn’t very
forthcoming.  He seemed distracted.  Based on the alarm bells from up there
last night, I suspect something untoward occurred, meaning every word or
gesture is potentially that much more dangerous.  Does everyone understand?” 
Her gaze swept the group.

Everyone nodded. 

Zazaril turned and faced the gatal'shilaar.  Intoning words
of activation, unique to each gate, the quafa'shilaar flared to life.  Zazaril
raised her hand and touched the stones quickly in a series, each magestone
flaring brightly as it was touched.  Celia made sure to commit the pattern to
memory.  As the magegate activated, she felt something draining her of energy
and tried to brace against it.  Hicks groaned next to her, and even Salrissa was
gritting her teeth, she noted.  The center of the portal wavered, clouds
swirling in a vortex at the center and then it instantly stilled - clearing.  It
now showed a view of a courtyard as though through clear glass.

Zazaril stepped through, followed by the rest of the women,
Salrissa coming last.

---o---

Now they were locked in a room in the Imperial Sky Citadel. 
Granted, they had left no guards within the room, but Celia was certain that
several were posted outside.  The room was octagonal, decorated in shades of
grey and crimson, with simple striped tapestries hanging on the wall to dampen
the chill emanating from the stone walls.  A thick rug with geometric patterns
in the same colors covered the floor.  A fireplace stood quietly crackling on
one wall, flanked by windows to each side through which daylight was streaming
in, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Two armchairs were placed in front of the fireplace facing
each other, and a divan large enough to seat three was arranged against one
wall.  A small desk was against another wall nearby.  There were no other doors
to the room other than the one they came through.

Hicks and Salrissa were deep in conversation with Hoyle as
far from the door as possible, in front of the right-hand window.  Every once
in a while they would look over at her, and less often Zazaril who by now was
seated in the armchair on the opposite side of the fireplace from the trio. 
She was wringing her hands in her lap.  Celia had never seen Zazaril nervous
before, and it was scaring her.

She stood by the desk, examining the two ornate stained-glass
oil lamps sitting on each corner – she was too nervous to sit and it was
apparent that the trio of friends did not want her interrupting their quiet
conversation.

Eventually the trio finished their discussion, which seemed
to have turned into a debate by the end, and split apart.  Hicks sat in the
other armchair across from Zazaril, though did not look at her, but pulled out
a small notebook and began to make notations with a small stick of charcoal. 
Salrissa began pacing the room, again reminding Celia of the Valkiiran leopard
in the cage.  That was apparently her nervous habit.  At that thought, she
forced her hand down from her amulet that she was clutching desperately. 
Have
I managed to get us into more trouble?

Hoyle walked towards her slowly as she stood by the desk. 
She turned to face him, unsure of what to expect.  He rubbed his hands down his
now scarred face as he stopped in front of her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  “No matter what else happens,
thank you for coming for me.”

“You should be thanking Salrissa; she did most of the
legwork to determine where you were
not
.  She didn’t stop until Hicks
and I confronted her.” She replied just as quietly, looking over at the pacing
woman.  The pacing looked out of place in her white flowered dress showing
ample cleavage.

“Yes, well I did,” he began with a small smile, “and she
told me how you confronted her.  I’m surprised that you aren’t wounded,
actually.”

"Well, yes, that wasn’t the smartest move on my part,”
she confessed.  Hoyle laughed loud enough that the others looked over at them. 
“But she was being a stubborn, pig-headed mule.”  Hoyle’s smile was wide as he
covered his mouth to stifle another laugh.  “Well, she was!” Celia reiterated.

“But you were the one that managed to get all of you up
here, and turn the tables.  I had escaped, temporarily, but I was trapped up
here with no way down.  Now, at least, I won’t be hunted as a fugitive, and
have a way down.  Assuming we actually survive the next few hours,” he finished
wryly.

“Yes, well... there is that,” Celia replied.  By this point
Salrissa and Hicks had moved to the middle of the room.  Zazaril was still
seated in one of the armchairs.  Celia and Hoyle made their way over to the
duo, and she stood so that the group was forced to include Zazaril in
conversation.

She looked at her mentor, who had managed to stop herself
from wringing her hands.  “What should we be expecting?”  Zazaril remained
staring into the distance, lost in thought.  Celia stood in front of her and
snapped her fingers.

“Wha-“ Zazaril began as she jumped a little.

“I said ‘what should we be expecting?’” she repeated.  The
others were all looking at the Embassy headmistress.

“How should I know?” she retorted.  “I was only hoping to
talk to First Chancellor Yalang.  How was I to know that it was all somehow
connected?”  She began to wring her hands again slowly.

“So you didn’t get us the audience with the Emperor?  Seven
Hells!  This is bad...” Salrissa started pacing again.  She moved to a window
and checked to see what was outside and if they opened.  After determining that
they did not, and were barred on the outside, she went and listened at the
door.  Meanwhile Hicks had collapsed in the chair facing Zazaril, with her head
in her hands.

Celia moved to the door and gently touched Salrissa’s arm. 
“Can’t you get us out, like you did in the tower?”  She noted that Hoyle had
moved closer too, and had overheard her quiet question.

“Yes, can you get us out?” he added.

“Which one of you?” she asked loudly enough for everyone to
hear.  Zazaril and Hicks looked up. 
She must be frazzled to lose her cool
demeanor in such a manner.
  “I can only take one, and even then, that would
only be if there were enough shadows in this room - which there are not.”  The
last was said in a more normal, quiet voice, such that neither Hicks nor
Zazaril could hear.  Salrissa paced back to the front of the fire and stood
staring into it.