Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (31 page)

 
The Faeryn Archmage nodded, “What do you need?”

 
She swallowed, then gestured, “Only him.”

 
“Me?” Thomi muttered.

 
Nodding, she muttered, “You and a large bathtub.”

 
Walsh shambled across the room and opened a door, “Tub.”

 
Talik said, “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

 
Thomi muttered, “Huh?”

 
She looked at Thomi, “Go in there and stand in the damn tub, then take off that mail.”

  The boy hesitated.

  Walsh gave him a gentle push, “NI––O––TA –– help.”

  “Quickly!” she shouted as Thomi paused in the bathroom doorway. He hurried to the bathtub and climbed in, then began undressing.

  Amira glared at the ogre, “Turn around!”

 
Sheepishly, the hulking creature did so. She climbed out of the bed, knowing that she was trapped by fate.

Walsh knelt and pounded his fists upon the room’s stone floor. “Ni –– o –– ta!” He sang. “Ni –– o –– ta! Scry!”

 
The keep’s wards flared and the air shimmered. NI––O––TA watched the young elvin woman cross the room. Saw his young lordling finish stripping out of his elvin mail, then glance to the doorway. Thomi gaped as Amira approached him and climbed into the tub, moved to stand opposite him.

  NI–O–
TA heard the vibration of her words, “So, the two of us are

bound. Both of us to this ancient place. But don’t be getting any ideas, boy!”

  “Me?” he said with a squeak.

 
She reached across to her and drew her close and hugged him, “Watch those hands, boy.”

 
“Uh, yes… Ma’am.” The tub was filling with water as the chainmail melted away like ice.

 
“Call me Amira,” she muttered as the water rose. “After all, we’re getting married.”

 
“Married?”

 
She lowered her head and kissed him as the waters suddenly welled, enveloping them.

 
NI––O––TA exulted. Its line now lived –– and would continue.

 
The Scrying Tower beaconed and the ground trembled for leagues.

Trelorian troops were being exhorted back up the narrow road on pain of death by their Captain, who knew failure we bring a fate worse than mere death.

They trudged forward; the earthquake caught them by surprise. The road gave way and hundreds plunged to their deaths.

The Scryer’s Network had long been suborned, but no longer. Those tasked with watching felt a bright light to the east. They saw Niota –– refugees, troops, more than two score ogres, and the Trelorian army, whose soldiers were falling to their deaths for the Imperial Road.

 
The light flowed westward toward the city of Lyai.

 
Scryers in their midst began screaming as the light overwhelmed them. They fought to defend themselves with darkness as their colleagues gaped in horror, knowing them for minions of the Demonlord.

 
Amira focused her scrying, concentrating on reaching Esperanza as Thomi fought for breath. He broke through the water for a moment and filled his lungs with air as the scrying waters flowed over them once more. He turned back and kissed Amira, feeding the air she desperately needed in order to prolong her scrying.

 
Thomi instinctively drew away for air, yet again, and again as his blood sang with NI––O––TA in his veins and the spirit of his destined mate.

Balfour took one look at the withered old woman and shuddered, wondering how he could break the spell. Cle’or’s gasp is what drew his attention. She was staring at the black sword that Galt had laid beside her.

 
“Kyrr’s sword,” she muttered.

  He realized, even as he felt it having an effect, although a minor one, that it was similar to Je’orj’s anti–magical blade. “You’re not Staff,” he muttered

to himself, “but let’s see if there is more to you than meets the eye.”

  Cle’or ushered everyone back as Balfour touched the hilt of the sword, then reached out with his mind. Esperanza’s whole body trembled. Balfour felt a presence tied to the sword ––something he felt he should know.

  The link flared in his mind. He and the blade were one. According to Dustin, Galt’s odd bane sword had sundered a wraith’s death magic, a piece had leapt into the woman, aging her. Had she been fully human she would already be dead. Her elfblood meant a significantly longer lifespan for it to feed upon. Now it was only awaiting her death.

  It was elusive. Esperanza thrashed even as Balfour rasped, “Cle’or, keep everyone away.
No one must touch her.”

 
Cle’or shoved them back.

 
The Lyai looked anxiously at those sharp blades and considered disobeying this newcome healer’s word. His guards could surely deal with her easily enough, yet the look of stillness and understanding on Galt’s face gave him pause. Cle’or nodded respectfully as the Lyai gave a mocking bow of acquiescence, then she turned back to watch over Balfour.

  “Where are you hiding?” Balfour muttered ever so softly.

 
There,
whispered that other presence bound with the dark metal sword.

Balfour tensed, trying to ascertain where the presence was, then sensed it.

 
Ni–– o –– ta, Ni –– o –– ta, Ni –– o –– ta scry,
he heard faintly but clearly: 
It hides there!

 
It was a tiny speck of darkness, hiding amidst her beating heart. He took the sword, touching its tip to her heart, then stabbed. Blood fountained as Esperanza screamed and the metal pierced the splinter of the wraith.

  Voices cried out as Balfour was rocked backward as he withdrew the sword point and focused on healing heart and tissue in an instant. Once done, he collapsed. Cle’or, ever quick, caught him before his head could hit the ground.

Prejudices

Chapter 54

“W
ill she be all right?” the Lyai asked him, holding the hand of the once more beautiful elvin woman.

Balfour merely replied, “That will depend on good old-fashioned elvin resilience, Milord.”

  The Lyai’s healer came over and offered him a restorative drink. Balfour smiled gratefully. “If I may, could we talk about what you just did?”

  “Certainly, Master.”

 
“Kimran and you are…?”

 
“Balfour.”

  “Who trained you, if I may ask?”

Balfour understood immediately what the healer was seeking to learn. “I trained under many experienced Masters.”

  “Faeryn Masters?”

  He shook his head, “I served as Master Ofran’s personal apprentice.”

  The elvin healer jerked backward, “The
Healer Master of Masters?”

  “Is there another?”

  Hastily, the healer glanced triumphantly at Galt, “Not a Faeryn healer in the least, then.”

  Balfour laughed heartily, “No, of that I can assure you. I heal using none of their arts.”

  Galt shrugged sheepishly, “You will be welcome among us if this one’s fellows ignore your due.”

  “The Empress, forefend! Such would disrespect the healing arts. Master Balfour, I am about to check on the Lord Chancellor, would

you care to join me?”

  “Honored.”

Cle’or slowly replaced the dagger she had nearly drawn. She turned to gaze warily for more physical threats as her lord spoke with those around them.

  Galt noticed the movement and whisper
ed to her, “You may yet want to

use that on
his Excellency, the Chancellor.”

  She nodded and almost grinned, savoring the possibility.

The ogre reached into the tub as Thomi and Amira bobbed back to the surface. Both were gasping and holding onto each other for dear life. Walsh smiled as Amira glanced at him wearily and muttered, “Aw, Hell.”

  “What?” Thomi rasped.

 
She hugged him close, “Fine, you can be more than useful. Just remember, I’m a Consecrated scryer… that’s a virgin’s gift.”

 
“Huh?”

 
Walsh was grinning.

 
“Oh, don’t you start. Fine, we’ve years yet before I need worry about…”

 
“About what?”

 
“Good, keep thinking that way and we’ll get along just fine. Thomi, what did I say about watching your hands!”

 
He held them up, “What are you taking about?”

 
“Oh,” she muttered, blushing.

 
The sound of a laughing ogre isn’t for the faint of heart.

“Everything’s all right, I see,” Talik said neutrally.

 
Thomi was frowning, “I’m not sharing my room!”

 
Walsh watched as Amira muttered, “Milord Talik, this had better be good. Thomi and I need our rest.”

 
He nodded at the red cheeked pair sat up stiffly holding up the bed’s heavy covers.

  Talik asked, “You scried Lyai?”

  “Yes, I did,” she replied.

  “Everything’s fine,” Thomi said, “Balfour healed her.”

  “Who?” Amira asked.

 
“Uh, Healer Balfour,” Thomi said.

 
“You saw him in the scrying?” Amira said in disbelief.

 
“It was like a dream,” he replied.

  “You actually had a vision?” Talik mused, “That
… should not have been possible.”

 
Amira shook her head, “He couldn’t have seen anything. Humans can’t

do magery.”

  “Well, I did!” Thomi averred.

  Talik nodded and chuckled, “It is also unheard of for wards to bond to a human lord…”

  “When has there been a human lord?” Amira replied.

   Walsh beamed, “NI––O––TA – did –– good.”

  “Niota did very good,” Thomi assured him.

  “Then I –– tired –– go –– sleep –– dream of –– voy –– age.”

  Talik frowned as Thomi wished him well and the ogre shambled into the next room. There was a reverberating thud as the ogre laid down. “What was that about dreaming of a voyage? He planning a trip?” Talik asked.

 
Thomi shook his head, how could he explain Walsh’s dreams of traveling across the stars long before the Empire even existed? He replied instead, “It’s his way.”

The Lady Mother fought against the bindings and talisman that warded her. The room was dark and damp, heavily shielded from any chance of spellcasting. She heard a sudden scraping noise, knowing she was no longer alone.

 
“You failed.”

  “Free me! I can yet make this right!”

  The presence in the darkness seemed to consider. “Free you I shall.

You will not fail our Master again.”

  Her eyes widened in fear, “Please, no.”

  Then she felt searing agony and nothing more.

Esperanza opened her eyes to splendor. She lay in the most luxurious of beds. “Ah, you are awake?” said the elvin young man.

  “Where am I? This must be the afterlife.”

 
He chuckled. “No, I would hope the afterlife would have better taste.”

  She stared, “But –– but this room is incredible!”

  “Incredibly gaudy, you mean.”

  She blinked, “Uh, who are you?”

  His smile warmed her. “Well, you asked to see me I seem to recall.”

  Gaping, she muttered, “Lord Lyai?”

  “Oh, none of that please. Just call me Lee –– that, at least, is the name I

was born with.”

  He realized as he looked at her –– seeming physically fully recovered.  Even aged, he had to admit, there had been a beauty about her. She gave him a hesitant smile. She was very lovely.

Lord Amberlet’s worst fears were about to be realized. The Lyai had just fallen hopelessly in love with a woman who had been accused of treason. Let the Lady Mother rue the day she ever set foot in his palace and tried to murder her, the Lyai told himself as he gently sat on the edge of the bed. “You need not fear. Master Galt has explained the situation –– and the Lady Mother will bother no one ever again.”