Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (16 page)

Tapping a Tapestry

C
hapter 25

T
erhun stared at the man who had been posing as the merchant, Jeo d’Aere. “What is your interest here in Lyai?”

“Just passing through,” George replied.

  “Yet, you found the time to purchase these tapestries and seem interested in acquiring more.”

  “The better to confound the Demonlord’s agents,” Se’and replied. “They have been trying to locate us.”

  “I have no doubt of that. But why are you in Lyai? There are faster ways of reaching the Imperial Capital.”

  George thought honesty might help. “The Highmage has sent for me, knowing that I am pursued by our enemies… I am still rather to new to all this.”

  “Your accent is not feigned, then?”

  “No, I am as foreign as you can get,” he replied, thinking,
isn’t that the truth
. “The Highmage’s plans are not always clear to me. All I can tell you is that I am supposed to be here.”

  “You just stumbled upon the tapestry?”

  “Things like that seem to happen to us a lot,” Se’and muttered.

  Terhun looked at Se’and. “How do you fit into all this?”

 
How far could they trust him?
she wondered. “I am his wife. Where he goes, I go.”

  That did not particularly surprise Terhun. He had noticed her protectiveness. “I would like you to speak with my mages about the tapestry. It could be more dangerous than any of us realize.”

  George frowned, “Dustin, your opinion of the tapestry?”

  “Mine?”

  “You examined it before. You have heard what we know about it. Do you think it is too dangerous to remain with us?”

  Terhun shook his head. “This is ridiculous. He’s only a journeyman,” and also had his doubts about the Faeryn––trained.

  “Dustin, I value your opinion,” George said.

  The elfblood straightened and took a deep breath. “I cannot say without seeing it again.”

  “Very well,” George replied with a sigh. He gestured to Se’and, who was aided by Fri’il, in uncovering the tapestry, which they had put on the bottom of the pile. The women carefully kept their hands from the bindings.

  George knelt and released them himself letting it unroll. He cautiously stepped back, his staff glowing brightly. Terhun tried to move closer for a better look, but found that he could not.  Whatever the human mage was doing, he had set a powerful ward.

  Dustin gestured at the depiction tentatively, seeking to touch any sense of enchantment. He frowned, still finding nothing. Warily, he knelt and touched the woven threads. No sense of magery lay about it. He sighed and glanced at the scene, which was, seemingly, as he remembered it.

  Abruptly, he frowned. No, that was not as he remembered it. One of the mages was looking directly at him.
‘You certainly do not belong here,’
he heard astonishingly in his mind.

 
“Who are you?” Dustin asked.

 
‘I am Faeryn. You scry far it seems.’

  Dustin began to tremble. “Uh, I did not mean to disturb you. I can see that you are a bit busy at the moment.”

  ‘Yes, you could say that. Are you in a position to scry the position of the goblin mages?’

 
Dustin glanced across the tapestry. “Uh, you mean those over there?”

 
Faeryn frowned, looking up into the darkened sky. He saw the woven image in Dustin’s eye.
‘You scry very oddly, but I do see them. Your aid is timely. I am sorry, but I must go.’

  “That’s all right,” then the elf’s back was turned away from him once more.

Dustin sank heavily to the floor, rasping, “Close that thing up!”

 
Se’and hurriedly did so with a cry of, “What did you see?”

  “Oh, by Faeryn, oh my...  I just told Faeryn the location of the enemy mages.”

  Terhun and George shouted together, “You did what?”

  Dustin suddenly smiled, “I helped Faeryn win the day! Isn’t that marvelous?”

George re–
tied the tapestry’s bindings. Terhun was shaking his head. “What Dustin said is simply impossible.”

  :I scanned the image as they closed it, George. I note minute changes radiating out from the position of the mages.:

  “And?” he muttered quickly back.

  :I think the scene will be different in many ways the next time we look at it.:

  Terhun confronted Dustin, “We heard you muttering what, I thought, was a spell. I cannot believe you were talking to Highmage Faeryn.”

 
The youth sighed, “But I was, perhaps, because I am a Faeryn mage.”

  Turning about, Terhun demanded, “My mages must look into this enchantment.”

  George adamantly shook his head. “It stays closed.”

  Dustin added, “They will not find any enchantment.  I still couldn’t.”

  Curious, George asked, “What do you mean?”

  “His ma
ges are Academy–trained. The tapestry is not, intrinsically, a work of magery. I would know if it were. They will no more understand what the tapestry represents than I do.”  

Erianda paled. The scrying to Llewelyn had gone easily enough. His contemporary was less than gracious at being disturbed in his sanctum.

 
“A tapestry in the Great Hall? Why ever would you disturb me about that old thing? Yes, I remember it well! Have not seen it since the last true Llewellyn’s death more than thirty years ago... Likely that old witch, the Llewellyn’s mother stole the thing when she fled.”

  “The Llewellyn’s mother?”

  The wrinkled elf smiled thinly, “She was my last real challenge.  She fought to save her foolish son and her granddaughter was properly sacrificed. The old witch ran away...  She would have died, otherwise. Smart, she was.”

  “So you think she took the tapestry, but where…?” then everything changed.

  One moment he had been speaking with his counterpart in Llewellyn, and in the next, the old elf changed. A much younger elfblood was answering him. “You waste my time with these stupid questions. I know nothing of any tapestry.”

  With a wave of the younger dark mage’s hand, the scrying abruptly ended.

  Erianda trembled.

Terhun presented his report to the Lyai. His Lordship read the brief missive and frowned. He held it up and fanned it. “You surprise me, Terhun.”

  “Milord?”

  “Such an innocent looking expression, my friend. I have come to know that you are at your most dangerous when you wear that expression. You investigated the merchant, even used the Faeryn journeyman, but learned nothing of value?”

  “He is a foreigner of no particular interest.”

  “What of…” the Lyai struggled to remember and glanced at the

initial report that had brought their attention to the newcomers, then with great difficulty said, “…what of the mage who was on the list that has vanished?”

  Terhun blinked at him in surprise. The Lyai actually remembered when not even the team of mages he worked with remembered any longer. That settled matters for him. “Lord Erianda was recently seen at the Mage Guild for the first time in decades.”

 
The Lyai sat back, knowing that boded ill. “Your people tracking him again?”

  “Briefly. He has gone to ground again, but we know he is somewhere in the city.”

  “Then find him!”

  “We are doing our best, Milord, but it will not be easy.”

  “No doubt,” the Lyai muttered in response and frowned. Erianda had once been a trusted advisor of his grandsire’s, then he had betrayed him. He would be more than two hundred years old now and shook his head, thinking he must be actually a bit younger.  The Lyai shook his head, remembered scryed past images of his dread nemesis. Yet, the face seemed to change in memory. The Lyai abruptly stared at Terhun, who seemed fascinated by his momentary confusion. In sudden insight he knew that Terhun was hiding something. “Care to share the truth with me?”

  Terhun was fanatically loyal; Service training made that a certainty. “Not yet, Milord... I have a suspicion, but not much more.”

  “When you do, I expect you to report more fully than this missive.”

  “Of course, milord.” Terhun actually had the effrontery to look aggrieved.

Merchants

Chapter 2
6

“A
bsolutely not,” Se’and said as they walked down the market street.

  “Jewelry! Cunningly crafted!” shouted a youth hawking the nearest shopkeeper’s wares.

  “Why? You don’t want to send your brother a gift?” George asked.

  She shook her head, “It would be a stupid risk.”

  “And exactly why would that be?”  Then ever so softly so that only she might hear added, “I agree if we proclaimed the gift as coming from a Cathartan Lord by Bond the Demonlord’s agents would likely come running; however, gifts being sent to a distant land by a flamboyant foreign merchant are another matter altogether.”

  She glared at him as Fri’il and Raven both disguised as servant lads halted near the shop’s door. “Perhaps, you might see something that you would like me to buy for you?”

  Her eyes widened, “That’s ridiculous. There is nothing I need.”

 
With a thin smile, George Bradley gave a mock bow. “Oh, do try to hide your most noble upbringing.”

  Fri’il gaped, then as Se’and’s gaze began to narrow in anger, she hastened close and grabbed her hand, “Milady, such wonderful goods! Come see for yourself!”

  Se’and grimaced, suddenly hating the part she must play. “Very well.”

  George grinned broadly, leaning momentarily on his staff, which momentarily seemed to glitter with light. Raven glanced quickly around them as she heard a mental quip, which her foster-father ignored. Luckily no one seemed to have noticed. She shook her head, wondering if she would ever understand her foster family.

The jeweler preened, “That’s a fine piece.”

  George frowned in concentration. His vision became keenly focused.

“The cut is imperfect,” he muttered, then blinked as he heard the faintest gasp of startlement from the jeweler.

  “You seem well versed.”

  Se’and smiled thinly, “Such is a good merchant’s trade.”

  The jeweler nodded with a frown. George noticed another piece, “May I see that one?”

  Hastily, the jeweler brought forth a carefully warded display box.  Several rings lay within.

  “May I take a closer look?”

  “I’m sorry, but the spell is most precise. I must carefully watch my wares, you understand.”

  George nodded, “Se’and, what do you think of that one on the left?”

  She looked at it and asked, “Is it enchanted?”

 
“Only in the crafting, Milady.”

 
“It is very beautiful,” she said with a wistful smile.

 
George looked at her, asking, “How much?”

  “One hundred gold Imperials.”

  He nodded, “That much? I take it that it was crafted by mages who were Academy trained.”

  But of course, good sir.”

  George shook his head, “Then it is not good enough for you, my dear. Let us go.” He took Se’and’s arm and turned toward the door.

  “What?” the jeweler sputtered. “Milord! These are among my finest rings!”

  Frowning, George turned and shook his head, “I have heard that the Academy–trained only half–heartedly spell the tools that the Masters use in Lyai... What I am looking for… only those with true care would imbue with the spirit necessary to craft the finest

jewelry.”

  The jeweler looked at him in astonishment, “There is something else I might show you then, a good value that has a bit more spirit in, uh, its manufacture.”

  George came closer, drawing an excited breath, “These rings are exquisite.”

  “You must understand, that value is important to some and craftsmanship… the pedigree of the craftsmanship, often more important.

Many pay a great deal for that pedigree.”

  Se’and gaped, “It’s wonderful.”

  “And apparently of Faeryn craftsmanship.”

  The jeweler whispered, “Please, such is a terrible thing to be said too loud.”

  “How much?”

  “Oh, a mere twenty––five Imperials.  A good value.”

  George smiled, “Good value, indeed. How much of this ‘quality’ do you possess?”

  The jeweler frowned, “Sir?”

  “I want as much as I can get, as quickly as I can.” George replied.

Se’and looked at him.

 
“You like that ring, my dear?” She stared at it, her eyes widening slightly, then gave only the vaguest nod.

 
George smiled, “It’s yours then...  How much for the lot?” he asked drawing out the coin.

 
The jeweler gaped; licking his lips stated a price.

The jeweler watched them go. He had named a price that had earned him a tremendous profit and knew he could get the man to buy more. He closed the shop, made certain all the wards were invoked and hastened down the back alley to see the Faeryn craftsman in the Lower City.  

Se’and was still staring at the ring that he had put on her finger as he gestured to his senior servant, “Uh, Farrel, would you be so kind as to hold on to these for me?” He slipped a ring into her hand as well as she took the box from him.

  Fri’il nearly choked, “Mi… Master Jeo, I will guard it with my life.”

  “Your life is more precious,” he whispered, then more loudly said, “I never thought to see such wares as what that fellow keeps hidden. Selling these in the Crescent Lands will make us rich!”

A man stared at them as they walked past, quickly whispering to his servant. George could practically hear his words echoing in the fellow’s head.
:Great, we’re being followed,:
Staff reported.

  George grinned, “Oh, so much the better.”

 
:What game are you playing at?:
Staff asked, curiously.

 
Raven frowned as another man began shadowing them. She wondered why her foster––father was clapping his hands and looking about him at every nearby shop excitedly.