Twilight of Kerberos - [Shadowmage 01-03] - The Shadowmage Trilogy (Shadowmage; Night's Haunting; Legacy's Price) (73 page)

Others were present in the hall as they entered, and all bowed their heads as Adrianna left his side and marched, confidently, to the far end where a cluster of men and women awaited her. A little more than a dozen people were there, and Lucius knew he was looking upon the core of the Shadowmages’ guild for the first time. He recognised none of them, though a couple nodded a greeting to him.

He could almost sense the magical power crackling through the air in the hall, an endless range of possibilities opening up to anyone who could harness the collective energy and direct it to a common cause. Lucius watched as the group at the far end of the hall parted before Adrianna to reveal a gilded chair upon a short dais and observed as, with a flourish he had not expected to see from her, Adrianna sat down and levelled a careful gaze at her guild members.

The moment was not lost on Lucius. Adrianna ruled her guild from a throne.

That realisation made Lucius wish that he had spent more time with this guild in the past, and also that his own guild was in another city, far away from what could easily turn into utter madness.

Raising her head slightly, Adrianna beckoned one Shadowmage forward, a young woman who was dressed in a gown of dark green silk that might have been more appropriate for one of the baron’s functions than any guild business. The woman bowed low as she stopped in front of Adrianna, and then went down on one knee.

“My Lady, my petition is for the exclusive right to service a contract with Lord Gilles of Pontaine,” she said, the respect in her voice evident.

“He is one of the baron’s men,” Adrianna said. “That contract is currently held by Torsten.”

Another Shadowmage, a man this time of perhaps twice Lucius’ age, stepped forward and bowed. He was about to speak but Adrianna held up a hand, silencing him instantly.

“Torsten has squandered the opportunities in working with Pontaine,” Adrianna declared. “We will find him work more suited to his abilities. The contract is yours, Miellee.”

The young woman bowed her thanks and withdrew as another Shadowmage approached Adrianna.

“My Lady, my petition is for access to the second rank laboratories...’

As the Shadowmages approached Adrianna and had their requests granted or denied, Lucius watched carefully. He had no idea why Arianna had insisted he attend this, well, there was no other word for it, this court that she presided over, but he could see an obvious danger.

The other Shadowmages were either fearful of her – who wouldn’t be? – or were willing to be led. It was true, the guild had gained new levels of power and even respectability since Adrianna had taken over its leadership, and they worked openly with the forces of Pontaine, something that could never have happened during the Vos occupation of the city. Business was clearly doing well.

However, he could also see that Adrianna ruled her guild with an absolute iron hand, brooking no argument or dissent. There was no Shadowmage here who had anything like the power or will to oppose her and Lucius doubted whether the combined force of every Shadowmage here, himself included, would be able to do much more than slow Adrianna down if it came to battle. On the other hand, as frightening as she could sometimes be, he did think that Adrianna was holding her emotions in rigid check. Maybe, just maybe, this focus on growing and maintaining her guild was the distraction that Adrianna needed. God knew that his own thieves kept him busy enough most of the time.

Adrianna now had access to more power than she had ever wielded in the past, and a number of sycophants who seemed willing to do whatever she asked without question. That rang alarm bells in Lucius’ head. He resolved to attend the Shadowmages’ guild more often, to keep an eye on his tutor if nothing else.

A
S THE LAST
Shadowmage departed the hall, Adrianna bent her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to alleviate the growing headache she felt coming on. When she looked up, she saw one still remained, and was looking expectantly at her.

“What is it, Torsten?” she asked in irritation. “Guild business is now over.”

“Indeed, my Lady, and I beg your indulgence.”

Sighing, Adrianna waved him forward.

“Speak.”

“It was good to see young Lucius today,” Torsten began. “What made him change his mind to join us?”

“He came because I told him to, and I have no patience for small talk,” Adrianna snapped. “What is it you want? I told you, Miellee has the Gilles contract now.”

Torsten held up a hand in defence. “Of course, my Lady, and I am sure your decision is final. But I have another matter to raise with you, one I believe should not be conducted openly.”

She waved impatiently at him. “Well, out with it.”

“I have heard the Preacher Divine is abroad. In the Anclas Territories.”

Adrianna stared at him for a second. “Interesting. Vaguely.”

“He has the Illkey Prophecies in hand,” Torsten said with a slight smile.

“Really?” Adrianna said, her eyes narrowing. “The full translation, or just excerpts?”

“Regretfully, I have not been able to discover that. My information comes from the daughter of Lord Gilles.”

“Okay, we’ll... review the Gilles contract – at a later date.” She thought for a moment. “What do you know of the Illkey Prophecies?”

Torsten shrugged. “Not as much as I might like, my Lady. I know they were supposedly created when man began his rise to power, just before the fall of the Old Races. They are alleged to contain fascinating detail on the magics of the elves and dwarfs, and were supposedly lost when the peninsula suffered some great calamity.”

“Oh, there’s more,” Adrianna said, a smile beginning to creep across her face, her eyes glinting darkly. “There is much that was hidden about those prophecies.”

Looking expectantly at her, Torsten waited for Adrianna to speak further, but she held her silence for some minutes as thoughts tumbled through her mind. When she finally spoke, it was with a tightly reined passion.

“I believe I know exactly what the Preacher Divine is looking for in the Anclas Territories. We’ll allow him some small success in finding what he searches for, permitting him to do the hard work. Then we’ll strike, taking it from him. What is uncovered from the hands of the Old Races, puts us in position to challenge anyone on the peninsula – any circle of Vos wizards, even the Three Towers themselves.” Adrianna glanced at the Shadowmage before adding, almost as an afterthought, “And you, loyal Torsten, you will have your share of the new power too.”

Torsten abased himself on the floor in front of Adrianna.

“My Lady...”

CHAPTER FOUR

H
IS SCARLET CLOAK
fanning out behind him, Tellmore quickened his pace through the corridors of the Citadel’s keep, ignoring the curious looks of the few servants and guards that still prowled at this late hour. He kept one arm clasped to his chest, holding his hastily scribbled notes protectively close.

Turning left, he raced up a flight of spiral stairs, coming to an abrupt halt as he ran headlong into an armoured soldier. The soldier briefly smiled an apology, but Tellmore pushed him to one side without a second glance, squeezing himself past the man’s bulk in the tight confines of the staircase.

Emerging into another corridor, Tellmore sighed with the exertion as he saw his destination ahead: a closed door with another guardsman standing stiffly outside with a short spear in hand.

The guardsman nodded a greeting and then glanced meaningfully at the door. Tellmore cursed under his breath and then waved his understanding. Drawing up to the door, he rapped hard on its oak surface. For several long seconds, there was no response from within.

“I gave orders not to be disturbed...” The baron’s voice floated through the closed door, a hint of exasperation evident. Tellmore knew why.

“My Lord Baron, it’s me. You’ll want to hear this.”

Tellmore could have sworn he heard a growl from within, quickly followed by sounds of movement. After waiting patiently for a few minutes, exchanging a knowing look with the guardsman, Tellmore was rewarded by the sound of the door’s heavy lock turning. The door swung open, and a young woman dressed in thin pale blue silks stepped out, smiling shyly as she trotted down the corridor, back to her own quarters.

“Lady Roussin,” Tellmore acknowledged, trying hard to avert his eyes from her obvious nakedness beneath her painfully thin clothing.

“Tellmore, you killer of joy,” the baron’s voice came from within. “Get in here and explain yourself.”

Slipping inside, Tellmore saw the baron in his night robes, lighting a lantern and carrying it from his bed chamber to the smaller room he used for private meals. He indicated Tellmore should follow him with a jerk of his head.

Within, a square darkwood table with two matching chairs took up much of the available space, but the baron had managed to squeeze a small buffet along one wall and from this he grabbed a plate of bread and fruit. He gestured to the food, but Tellmore shook his head.

“Please, sit,” the baron said, taking a place himself. “And tell me what is so important it could not wait until morning.”

“Oh, I think you will want to hear this right now, my Lord Baron,” Tellmore said, seating himself and spreading his papers as best he could across the small table.

The baron watched his wizard prepare himself, taking a bite out of a large pear as he waited.

“As you instructed, I started to investigate what Vos was doing in the Anclas Territories, and why they had deemed it necessary to send the Preacher Divine,” Tellmore said.

“I still think the duty is a punishment for our taking of Turnitia. It was, after all, his responsibility.”

“Maybe,” said Tellmore doubtfully. “Maybe. Thing is, if the Anointed Lord wanted to punish him, she has all sorts of permanent ways of doing it. I thought this had the whiff of humiliation, mixed with a chance of redemption, if you see what I mean.”

The baron nodded his understanding, prompting Tellmore to continue.

“Your spies in the Territories had already determined that the Preacher Divine was looking for something, and that he was using the Illkey Prophecies to find it.”

“Never really trusted those prophecies myself,” the baron said. “The source is suspect. I always thought they might have been written far more recently than has been supposed.”

“That might well prove to be true,” Tellmore said, not wanting to contradict his patron directly. “But regardless of that, they may still hold some useful information – Vos certainly thinks so, and if they are interested...’

“Then we should be too. Yes, I agree. I assume you have gained some knowledge of the prophecies yourself?”

“Far more than Vos has. A benefit of the collected learnings of the Three Towers. More importantly, we hold certain key texts that we know Vos lacks – they are not even aware of the existence of these writings.”

Tellmore took a moment to sift through his scattered notes until he seized the sheet he had completed just minutes before in his own chambers.

“Specifically, the Preacher Divine lacks the Illuminated Scrolls of the Thirteenth Elven Dynasty. Luckily, I had the transcribed set in my own collection.”

The baron raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tellmore looked apologetic. “They are somewhat hard going, and their relevance has always been held in question – as has, indeed, the accuracy of the translations. There have been several made over the centuries, and each has their own proponent as to which is closest to the original text. I won’t bore you with the details, but the transcription I possess contains certain references to an Elven outpost – or maybe it’s a tomb, perhaps a village, things are not completely clear – that I recalled when I started reading the Illkey Prophecies once again.”

Having stopped eating now, the baron leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me you discovered something.”

“I must stress, interpretation of anything to do with the Old Races is subject to a wide margin of error at best.”

The baron brushed the excuse aside. “You are among the best magical minds on the peninsula, Tellmore. That is why I brought you into my service. I am prepared to act upon your best guess, without thought of recrimination later.”

“The Baron is too kind,” Tellmore said before taking a breath. He then smiled as he looked back up at his patron. “I believe I have discovered what the Preacher Divine is searching for, where it comes from and, more importantly, where it can be found.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, man!”

“We have known for some time about an ancient Elven artefact known as the Guardian Starlight. It has been variously described by different sources as a small golden rod, a large crystal staff or a shield the size of a man but light enough to wield as though it were parchment. It was the Illkey Prophecies and the Thirteenth Dynasty that provided the connection I needed. They, with some other, minor texts, have convinced me that the Preacher Divine is searching for the Guardian Starlight, even if he does not know exactly what it is he is looking for.”

“So, he is working blind?”