The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (17 page)

“I doubt it.” Shiv frowned. “I can check, if you like, but I think Planir would have told me, don’t you?”

“Nyle said he has contacts who are looking out for swords like that,” persisted Livak. “The Elietimm were hunting for Old Empire artifacts last year, weren’t they?”

And stealing them, I thought grimly. Messire’s nephew had lost his wits in the beating he’d taken trying to protect the heirloom rings the bastards were after.

“Nyle might not know it himself, but whoever he’s selling to could be tied in with them,” Halice chipped in. “What if he tells them about this sword he couldn’t get hold of? I’d say we should seriously think about selling it. I don’t want to find I’m suddenly on the wrong side of this hunting trip.”

“I know it was a gift from your Messire, Rysh, but it could be putting us all in danger. Selling it might be best.” Livak turned an intense stare on me and I shrugged noncommittally. She and Halice were evidently up to something here.

“I really don’t think we need to think about doing that,” Shiv replied just a little too firmly.

I gave him a curious look. The euphoria that I’d brought in from the paddock started to fade fast; it looked as if there was another game going on here and I started to suspect I was missing a few crucial pieces.

“You don’t want him to sell, do you? Does Ryshad know just what it is that he’s carrying?” Livak’s emerald eyes challenged Shiv, but his gaze slid sideways.

“It’s an Old Empire sword, he knows that.”

“What about the trouble he’s having sleeping?” Halice chipped in.

“Are you hoping to hear all about some peculiar dreams, by any chance, Shiv?” persisted Livak.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” I gripped my goblet and cursed myself for forgetting that the Archmage could well have Shiv trawling for different fish than the rest of us.

“You tell him or I will,” Livak threatened.

“You remember I told you Planir was studying Formalin antiquities, that was what he sent me to Viltred to collect?” Shiv scratched his ear as he struggled for words and I got a feeling I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear. “I don’t think I mentioned that some of these seem to give their owners strange dreams, detailed visions of the fall of the Empire. The Archmage wants to use them to find out more about the foundation of Hadrumal, which happened about a generation later, when the magic that governs the elements was first properly developed.”

“The mysterious city of wizards, hidden Trimon only knows where, to keep the arts of magic safe from the non-mage-born.” Halice’s tone was distinctly sarcastic.

The corners of Shiv’s mouth twitched downwards, betraying his irritation. “It’s where the Archmage and the most powerful wizards live and study. It’s not really all that arcane.”

“Just as long as it keeps mages away from honest folk,” said Livak cuttingly.

“Most mages find it frees them from the distractions of life among the non-mage-born,” Shiv sniffed a touch pompously.

“What has this got to do with my sword,” I broke in impatiently.

“You remember when we tracked the Elietimm back to their islands last year, we found proof that the Formalin colony lost around the fall of the Empire was not in Gidesta after all?” Shiv asked me, ignoring Livak. “And that the Old Formalins used this ancient magic, the aetheric enchantment that the Elietimm were using on us last year, whatever that may be exactly?”

“Yes, of course.” I looked at him suspiciously. “It looks like the colony was somewhere on the far side of the ocean. Messire’s been talking about trying to find it, Dastennin willing. Get to the point, Shiv.”

“It seems these colonists were attacked by the Elietimm but they somehow managed to disrupt the Ice Islanders’ magic, not realizing it would bring the roof in on the Empire at home, which also relied on using this old magic.”

I glanced at Livak in surprise. “Did you know about this?”

She looked uncharacteristically defensive. “Weren’t you told? That old wizard, Otrick, he said they were going to tell D’Olbriot and the rest of the Formalin Convocation.”

Shiv rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Over the winter we’ve established that where we can trace the history of those artifacts that cause dreams they come from families involved in the colony. We think they may actually have belonged to colonists.”

“So?” How had they got back across the ocean then, I wondered.

“We’re hoping the dreams might give us some clue as to just what the colonists did to disrupt the Elietimm magic,” said Shiv simply. “We’ve been studying what little we know of aetheric spells, and so far we can’t reliably detect or counter them.”

“So you want to know how to poleaxe their sorcery, in case the Elietimm decide to attack in force and with aetheric magic in support?” That made sense enough, I had to give him that, why be so secretive about it? Messire should have been informed, if no one else.

“It can’t harm any of us now, other than baffle a few old priests whose miracles won’t work anymore.” Shiv shrugged. “Aetheric magic was pretty well lost along with the Empire, as far as anyone this side of the ocean is concerned.”

“So I’ve been given this sword in the hopes that I’ll start dreaming up some answers for Planir?” I could not keep an edge of outrage from my voice; how dare these wizards use Messire like a bird on a game board.

“We, that is Planir and the Council of Mages, they’ve been trying to match likely antiquities with people who should be similar to their original owners.” Shiv’s tone grew more animated. “You’re a swordsman. Have you been having strange dreams? We might well learn something significant if you can try to remember what they, are about.”

“As opposed to trying to put them out of my mind because I’ve been starting to wonder if my wits are turning to water and about to come trickling out of my ears, you mean?” I managed to keep my tone pretty well level; after all, an argument here would attract too much attention.

“I don’t see why you should think that.” Shiv looked surprised.

That was easy for him to say; he’d not had an Elietimm enchanter turning his mind inside out. The idea of that kind of magic invading my sleeping mind made my skin crawl like the thought of wearing a pauper’s shirt. I was tempted simply to hand Shiv the sword, but no—it had been Messire’s Solstice gift to me and token of his admiration. I was not about to hand that over to any wizard. Arimelin willing, I’d ignore any dreams that might come.

“Whatever the colonists did, it would be worth their while for the Elietimm to know about it as well,” mused Halice. “What if they could reverse it? Would that increase their powers? Just stopping us from finding out would mean they kept their tactical advantage. That could well be why they went after Viltred.”

I ran a hand through my hair, wincing as I snagged a tangle of curls that needed a trim. “I’m going to get a bath before I stiffen.”

I stood abruptly and ignored Shiv’s attempts to reassure me. The glossy-haired wench passed me and I caught her arm.

“I want a bath and plenty of hot water in my bedchamber, as soon as you can.”

She shook off my hand, looking a little startled and I realized I had gripped her a little hard. “Sorry.”

“I’ll get it seen to, soon as I get a moment,” she said a little uncertainly, and I went upstairs to pace the room until it arrived.

I was starting to feel cold and sore and realized a little belatedly that I must smell like a hard-ridden horse. A good soak in nicely hot water loosened my muscles and helped soothe away some of my indignation at what I had just learned, but I can’t say I was much happier as the water started to cool. Hunting down Ice Islanders was one thing; I was quite content with that task. Finding out that we might be the prey was definitely unwelcome news and the suspicion that I’d been somehow set up like a lamb staked out to draw wolves was something I didn’t even want to think about. Was that what Shiv had in mind? Was it his idea or Planir’s intention all along? Just what had the Archmage told Messire anyway? Had that devious charmer explained this peculiar business with the dreams, or just suggested the sword would be a suitable gift from a grateful patron? It had to be the latter, no question; anything else wouldn’t honor the oaths that bound D’Olbriot and me together. That same oath meant I was honor-bound to keep the blade, well as committing me to working with Shiv; I couldn’t avoid it, but I could cursed well make sure he wasn’t keeping back anything else I needed to know.

I propped my mirror on my knees and had a thoughtful shave. We could play these runes reversed, couldn’t we? Did it matter if the Elietimm found us or we found them? Not as long as the wizards could keep scrying on them, it didn’t. It certainly made no odds as far as my oath to Aiten was concerned, I reminded myself. I just needed to make sure that I kept alert, all my wits about me. My reflection in the polished steel looked a little less grim and I recalled something my father is always saying: “Build for storms and hope for sunshine.” It’s a fair enough catchword for a stonemason and I could do well to remember it. I shook my head at myself; what would he think of me mixed up in a quest like this? I imagined he would take it all with his usual calm; he’d certainly understand once he met Livak. I hoped so; I was relying on him to talk Mother round.

A knock on the door startled me and I turned to see the latch lift.

“Need someone to wash your back?” Livak slid in and leaned against the door, her smile colored by a little uncertainty in her eyes.

“If you’re offering.” I held up a washcloth and shifted forward; drawing a deep breath of pure pleasure as she scoured my aching muscles with the rough toweling.

“I’ve borrowed some rubbing oil from Viltred too.” Livak bent down and brushed her lips against my hair. “I thought it might help.”

“Good idea.” Stepping out of the water, I spread a towel on the bed. As I lay down I heard Livak bolt the door and smiled into the pillows; Shiv could have Livak’s bed for all I cared, Halice’s virtue would be safe enough.

“About what we were saying downstairs—” Livak sat beside me and rolled up her sleeves.

“I don’t want to talk about it, not at the moment,” I said more sharply than I intended.

“Halice is going to see if she can get anything more out of Nyle.” Livak poured a little oil onto her hands and I smelled the sharp scent of dragonsbreath leaves. “He seemed quite keen this afternoon, when they were discussing tactics for the game.”

“She’s welcome to him.” I’d been wondering what kind of man would catch her eye.

Livak laughed and began to lean deep into rubbing the muscles of my back. “Halice likes men who make her feel small and feminine.”

“That must limit her choice unless there’s a wrestling troupe passing through the neighborhood,” I muttered.

“You’d be surprised; she doesn’t do too badly for bed-mates.”

Livak leaned over and I felt the weight of her breasts brush my back through the soft linen of her shirt. I wondered briefly if all we were going to be were bedmates, no ties binding us. As I started to speak, she kneaded a stubborn knot of muscle in my shoulder and the goose featherbed stifled my half-formed words.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I stretched out under her skillful hands and made appreciative noises as she carefully smoothed out the myriad aches.

“Still stiff?” she inquired after what seemed like half a season of pleasure.

“Only where I want to be.” Dragonsbreath has the same effect on me as most other men.

Livak giggled as I rolled over. “I was wondering what Viltred was doing asking the ale-wife for this.”

“Forget Viltred.” I reached up for her and drew her into a fierce embrace.

She was as eager as me and shivered in delicious delight as I stripped her shirt over her head. The sight of her soft breasts tightening in the lamplight drove any thoughts of conversation clean out of my head. I reached for her with rising desire. Her answering touch was sure and firm and burned me anew with the fiery thrill of a new lover’s hands and lips. She moved to my caresses eagerly, unhesitating pleasure given and received in the keen rapture of mutual exploration. For all the novelty of her body under my hands, we came together with the ease of a couple a generation wedded, moving with the fluid, instinctive rhythm that had come to us so naturally before. I drew on all the self-control I possessed until I felt the cadence of Livak’s movement stumble into ecstasy and then gave myself up to the sweeping waves of delight that came crashing down to overwhelm me. We finally rested, her heartbeat pounding against mine, and I knew that my pulse would be echoing hers for a long time to come, no matter what her feelings for me might be or the prospects for our futures. Our breath mingling, we drifted into deep and refreshing sleep together.

Chapter Three

Taken from the First Appendix to the Transactions of the

Merchant Venturers of Col,

Volume 8,

126th Year of the City’s Freedom.

My esteemed brothers in commerce,

This leaves me well and in hopeful spirits, and I hope it may find you in health and prosperity. You will be surprised at this, I do not doubt, given my last missile from the chaos of Triolle.

So, to business. In the debit columns, I will not disguise from you that we face heavy losses. The port at Triolle Bay has been comprehensively sacked by the troops of the Duke of Draximal. The goods and profits of this year’s trade between Triolle and Aldabreshi are now being gambled in the camps and sold to adorn the troopers’ grubby trollops. Moreover, this war of theirs is no mere summer storm; if anyone tells you it will all be settled by Solstice, insist on recording odds at a gaming-house and take that fool for every Mark he has in his strongbox. It may have started with ambition for the throne but it is turning into a struggle for the most fertile land, access to the rivers and the sea, say what you will. I cannot see how Parnilesse will escape being dragged in, and with that the last decent anchorage this side of Tormalin will be no safer than a nest of pirates. Commerce in Lescar is as dead as a man with a sword through his neck.