Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (36 page)

 
Balfour stared at the bane sword as the Lyai drew it. “That doesn’t look like any bane sword I’ve ever seen.”

 
“Only two like it I’m told,” the Lyai said, smiling.

 
“Jeo d’Aere’s bodyguards have those,” Terhun added helpfully.

 
“Uh huh,” the elfblood said, being careful not to glance at Me’oh or Cle’or, his official assistants. Why, thank you, Milord. You are quite generous.”

 
Once they returned to the rooms they’d been provided, Cle’or said,“Me’oh, I think you should keep it.”

 
“That’s ridiculous. You’re an artist with a blade.”

 
“That’s why you should have it, Me’oh. You need it more.”

Balfour smiled, “I’m glad neither of you is suggesting I keep it.”

  “Of course not, Milord — you’d just cut yourself,” Cle’or responded.

 
Me’oh nodded.

 
With a sigh, Balfour decided to count his blessings. In the end, Cle’or took the sword, but not before wondering what the Lyai was going to do with Lord Kyrr’s sword.

Se’and accepted the sheathed black sword from the Lyai, who said, “As I promised. It’s yours, Lord Jeo.”

 
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said.

 
“You’re welcome. If even half of what Terhun says about you is true, I believe this will be safer with you.”

 
Fri’il stared at the sword, whispering to Se’and, “Do you think that really was Lord Kyrr’s sword?”

 
Se’and muttered, “If it’s not, it was certainly wielded by one of those who accompanied him here centuries ago.”

 
The Lyai smiled as his now former Chancellor said, “Your Grace,” he handed the sword to Se’and who took it to their back room.

 
She entered the room, which was filled with the rolled up tapestries, and found she was loath to put the sword down, but she did, not far from the tapestry that was tied up in rope and chains. She glanced at it and muttered, “We’re going to need a very large wagon to transport all this stuff.”

 
She turned and locked the door on her way out.

 
The Lyai was asking Je’orj to stay.

 
“Your Grace, it’s best for, uh, business if I move on tomorrow. After all, the last few days have been entertaining enough.”

 
“I hope I can count on your advice again someday.”

 
“For as long as I’m in the Empire, Your Grace.”
Which, hopefully, won’t be much longer,
he thought.

 
Se’and escorted the Lyai out of their suite as the computer staff, George was leaning on whispered in his mind,
:Uh, George, you remember that encrypted seismic pattern I noted earlier?:

 
“Yes,” he muttered quietly back.

 
:It has been answered.:

 
“Location.”

 
:Directly beneath us.:

 
He whispered, “Have you broken the encryption?”

 
:Just now… The response is: “System active, attempting to relay… Damage

detected to North unit, repair team scheduled.”:

  George wondered about that, but didn’t feel drawn northward, which was for the best — he hoped.

‘Oh, I’m not unique. There’s another… like… me,’
Amira heard in her dream. She opened her eyes, as Thomi woke.

 
“What’s going on out there?” he muttered as they heard what sounded like cheers in the courtyard. He glanced into the bathroom at the tub, the talisman waters swirling within it.

“I guess I’ve lost my chainmail,” he said.

 
Amira yawned, “Go back to sleep, Thomi.”

 
“I can’t, we’ve company.”

 
“It’s likely the mages that Talik sent for.”

 
“But I should go greet them.”

 
He climbed out of the bed, cold and embarrassed as Walsh shambled out of the other room. “Bed,” the ogre rumbled, pointing.

 
Amira’s eyes went wide as she looked at him, “Uh, Thomi, how old are you?”

 
“What? Eleven.”

 
She swallowed. “You, uh, don’t look eleven.”

 
“What do you mean?”

 
“Look in the mirror.”

 
Thomi turned and did. He gasped, “That can’t be…” his voice cracked saying “me.” 

 
“Bed,” Walsh rumbled and pointed.

 
Thomi turned to Amira, not even thinking about being naked.

 
She sighed, holding open the covers for him. “Come back to bed, Milord.”

 
He stared at her and swallowed. He was most definitely no longer a boy.

 
“You and I need to come to a little understanding about the nature of my

gift…” She felt warm all over. “I’m not allowed to bed an elfblood or I lose my gift of sight.”

  “Huh?”

 
“The problem is you’re not an elfblood… and I’m feeling a bit cold.” she said, her face flush. He hesitantly climbed back under the covers.

 
“You want me to what, warm you up?”

 
She shut her eyes and muttered, “Something like that, yes.”

Walsh turned, closing the door behind him as Thomi’s mother came up the back stair. “Is he all right?”

 
“Very… Sleeping,” he said, blocking the doorway completely, which thankfully muffed the sounds within.

‘What are you doing here?’
his disembodied voice asked.

 
‘Me? I was minding my own business until about a week ago, when, bam, I’m alive again — sort of.’

 
‘Hmm, a week ago? Not hours ago?’

 
‘Oh, when you fiddled with the palace wards, you mean?’

 
‘It’s not like I had much of a choice,’
he replied.

 
‘Well, I thought it kind of tickled. Now, what are you doing back?’

 
‘Oh, ghosting through life.’

 
‘Well, I’m not ghosting and I don’t recall ever having a role in the damned prophetic curse of having to live through interesting times.’

‘I will have to have Esperanza check the Lyai’s private library.’

‘Why? The Prophecy was pretty specific in its lunatic way.’

 
Really… You say that as if I should be familiar with it.’

 
‘You wrote the damned thing! Oh, yes, you called it the ‘Love Poem’.’

  
He paused in thoughtful silence for a time.
‘Were you involved with establishing
t
he Lyai’s wards?’

 
‘Of course, I was. Have you lost your memories as well as your mind?’

 
‘Uh, no dear, you see, I distinctly recall your death prior to our establishing this settlement.’

 
‘What are you talking about?’

 
‘I suggest you go to the Consecrated’s Tower and check the archive.’

 
‘What archive?’

 
‘Hmm?  You don’t remember being tasked to put archives in key locales?’

 
‘What are you talking about?’

 
‘It was that dratted old woman’s idea.’

 
‘Someone paid attention to her?’

 
‘She was the consort’s grandmother.’

 
‘What are you talking about?’

 
Now he paused.
‘Fascinating… oh, it’s good having you back.’

 
‘I thought you hated me.’

 
‘Well, I enjoyed the arguing.’

 
‘No, you enjoyed the — never mind, you lecherous…’

 
He laughed, ‘That Dustin looks like he’s sweet that avatar of yours.’

 
‘Oh, grow––up! He’s just a boy!’

 
‘And you’re just a girl again, sorta.’

 
‘Oh, drat… The Lady Mother’s really a he? I just thought… well, never mind what I thought.’

 
‘The Tower’s in for some interesting times, I see.’

 
‘It won’t be once I’m no longer feeling quite so tied up.’

 
‘Hmm, I get the point, my dear, I really do… Let’s see if I can do something about that.’

The chains rattled as the tapestry struggled to open. The sheathed black sword vibrated and moved closer to the edge of the table Se’and had put it on.

 
A wind swirled in the room and pushed the sword back to the farther edge of the table.
‘Behave yourself!’

 
‘You are no fun at all,’
the ghost responded.

 
The tapestry writhed, straining to open, encouraged by the city’s node.

 
‘All in good time, my dears,’
the Highmage’s disembodied spirit said,
‘All in good time… Je’orj has quite a bit more to do first.’

Interlude

A
breeze brushed past her as she stood on the ridge, overlooking the burgeoning camp of refugees in the ruins of a long abandoned estate. Gwilliam had ordered the rebuilding of the old defensive walls, which to her sight were already more than half built. She knew the tents and relief supplies Gwilliam had negotiated with the otherwise stubborn representatives of the southern city-states would arrive tomorrow.

  He had half-joked his talisman was at least good for that much.

  “Mistress?” said the girl in the gray apprentice seer’s shrift as she reached her side.

  She dared not open her eyes as vision held her in its grip.

  The Captain looked at his remaining troop of Trelorian soldiers, many of them wounded, huddled along the often too narrow path up to Niota. Arrayed around him were his remaining lieutenants. “There is no going back,” he said.

  “We must take the keep,” the youngest of the officers said, concern.

  “You want to go to Lord Fenn and tell him we need more mages, more soldiers?” the Captain asked.

  The young lieutenant shook his head.

  “Then we have but one choice… We must surrender.”

  “But our oath!” the lieutenant cried.

  “Look at our men. They will die for naught trying to take those walls and we have no room to maneuver. With surprise we had a chance, with the mage and the scaling ladders a chance…”

  “Perhaps, there is another way,” the young lieutenant admitted.

  She saw the Trelorians retreat back down the path, leaving the headless body of their captain to rot.
“No one forswears his Oath to the Lord of Demons,” the young lieutenant said, his eyes bright, knowing he and his men would return and take the walls through magery and cunning.

  “Mistress?”

  The breeze began to swirl around her.
Fenn du Blain rages at the news as the young lieutenant bows, presenting his failed captain’s head, and reports what occurred. “Such magery as you describe must be the work of he whom our Master seeks… Hmm, perhaps, we have an opportunity here. I promote you to Captain. I’m sending you back with three members of my personal guard and additional troops. We must keep up the assault at Niota, my… personal guards will advise you. You have done well, take what you will from among our… captives for your personal pleasure.”

  “Thank you, Milord,” he replied with a depraved smile.

  “Mistress, Truthsayer would speak with you.”

 
This moment then
, the Seeress of Trelor thought, opening her eyes, standing on the ridge, knowing beneath her feet the black dragon slept, his endless dream growing troubled.

  Je’orj Bradlei would soon reach the Imperial Capital and his Gateway home. The fate of this world rested on his choices, creating ripples in the stream of time and prophecies.

  “Lady,” Truthsayer said. “You’re crying.”

  She nodded, having foreseen the truth of that long ago. “True enough…” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come, let us join Gwilliam for that lovely speech he made – I mean, that he is about to make.”

  “Truth,” he muttered, smiling.

  Blinking, she momentarily saw hundreds of refugees, many far too young for what was to come, striding forward, agreeing to join the army of the tall and handsome former Prince of Gwed.
The jeweled talisman about his neck blazing with light, offering hope.

 
Standing beside him, she unconsciously clasped his hand.

  She swallowed, her eyes opening wide.
What?!

  “Mistress,” her apprentice whispered.

  Setting her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “It’s nothing… really.”
It’s nothing, nothing…

Continued in Human Mage