Valdemar 09 - [Mage Winds 01] - Winds of Fate Read online

  Selenay’s jaw tightened in a way Elspeth knew only too well. “You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?”

  Yes, Elspeth replied—mentally. And kept a very tight shield over the thought.

  “No,” Talia said, and smiled. “You’re just acting the way any mother would. I know if it were Jemmie—let’s just say I’d have him hidden away with some family-say, a retired Guardsman-turned-farmer—so far out in the country that no one could counterfeit a native and any stranger would cause a stir.”

  “Maybe—” Selenay’s expression turned speculative, and Elspeth started to interrupt the thought she knew was going through her mother’s mind.

  Talia did it for her. “That won’t work for Elspeth, I’m afraid. She’s too old to hide that way, even if she would put up with being sent off like an exile. However—her uncle’s court is very well protected....”

  Not too bad an idea, Elspeth had to admit, even if it doesn’t feel right.

  “That’s a thought,” Selenay acknowledged. “I don’t know; I’ll have to think about it.”

  “So long as you aren’t planning on putting me under armed guard, like the Crown Jewels,” Elspeth said, in a little better humor.

  “Not at the moment,” her mother admitted.

  “All right, then.” She ran a hand over her hair and smiled a little. “I can put up with one guard in the city; we probably should have had one anyway. If I’m not safe on the Palace grounds, after Kero gives the Guards one of her famous lectures, I won’t be safe anywhere. I should know, I got one myself today. Two, in fact. As soon as she figured I was all right, she gave me a point-by-point critique on my performance.”

  Talia chuckled, and Selenay relaxed a little. “I can just see Kero doing that, too,” Talia said. “She doesn’t ever let up. She’s like Alberich. The more tired you are, the more she seems to push you.”

  “I know, believe me. Uh—on that subject, sort of—would there be any problem if I had a tray in my room?” she asked, drooping just a little—not enough to resurrect Selenay’s hysteria, but enough to look convincingly tired. “I don’t think I can handle Uncle’s delegation right now... ”

  “After this afternoon, I doubt anyone would expect you to,” the Queen replied, sympathetically. “I’ll make your apologies, and hopefully, after this afternoon, the current batch of rumors will be put to rest for a while.”

  “And I’ll see that someone sends a tray up,” Talia offered. “With honeycakes,” she added, giving Elspeth a quick wink.

  Elspeth managed to keep from giving herself away, and stayed in character. “Thanks,” she sighed, throwing both of them grateful looks. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the bathing room, under hot water. And frankly, right now all you need to worry about is whether or not I drown in the bathtub. All I want is a hot bath and a book, dinner, and bed.”

  She made a hasty exit before she betrayed herself. After all, it was partially the truth. She really was tired; her afternoon’s double-workout had seen to that even before the attack. She really did want a hot bath and a tray in her room.

  But she had no intention of going to bed early. There was too much to think about.

  A candlemark later, wrapped in a warm robe and nibbling on a honeycake as she gazed out into the dusk-filled gardens, she still hadn’t come to any conclusions of her own.

  Things just felt wrong; she was restless and unhappy, and she wasn’t certain why. The restrictions Selenay had wanted to place on her movements had merely heightened those feelings, which had been there all along.

  It’s almost as if there was something I should be doing, she decided, as the blue dusk deepened and shrouded the paths below in shadows. As if somewhere I have the key to all this, if I can just find it.

  One thing she was certain of: this would not be the last time Ancar attempted an assassination, or something of the sort. He wanted Valdemar, and he was not going to give up trying to annex it. There was no way he could expand eastward; the Aurinalean Empire was old and strong enough to flatten him if he attacked any of its kingdoms. North was Iftel—strange, isolationist Iftel—guarded by a deity. He could not move against them; not unless he wanted a smoking hole where his army had been. South was Karse, and if rumor was true, he was already making moves in that direction. But Karse had been at war with Valdemar and Rethwellan for generations, and they were quite prepared to take him on as well. Taking Valdemar would give him protection on the north, a western border he would not need to guard, and another place from which to attack Karse. Besides doubling his acquisitions.

  He probably assumed that if the rightful rulers and their Heirs died, it would leave the country in a state of chaos and an easy target for takeover.

  He might not be ready for another war now—but he would be, given time and the chance to rebuild his forces.

  So no matter what, there’s going to be another war, she thought, shoving the rest of her dinner aside, uneaten. I know it, Kero knows it, Stepfather knows it-Mother knows it, and won’t admit it.

  She turned away from the window and rested her back against the sill. She’d had a fair number of discussions with Kero and Prince-Consort Daren on this very subject. Her stepfather didn’t treat her like a child.

  Then again, her stepfather hadn’t ever seen her until she was adult and in her full Whites. It was an old proverb that a person was always a child to his parents ... but it was war she should really be worrying about, not how to make her mother realize that she was an adult and capable of living her own life. The two problems were entwined, but not related. And the personal problems could wait.

  The next try Ancar makes is going to involve magic, I know it is—combative magic, war-magic, the kind they use south of Rethwellan. The kind the Skybolts are used to seeing. Kero says so, and I think she’s right. She can talk about real magic, and I can ... and that might be a clue to what I need to be doing right there.

  For Valdemar was not ready to cope with magic, especially not within its borders. For all the efforts to prepare the populace, for all the research that was supposed to have been done in the archives, very little had actually been accomplished. Yes, the ballads of Vanyel’s time and earlier had been revived, but there was very much a feeling of “but it can’t happen now” in the people Elspeth had talked to. And she wasn’t the only one to have come to that conclusion. Kero had said much the same thing. The Captain was worried.

  Elspeth licked her bitten lip, and thought hard. Kero’s told me a lot of stories she hasn’t even told Mother. Some of the things the Skybolts had to deal with—and those were just minor magics.

  “Most of the time the major magics don’t get used,” she’d said more than once. That was because the major mages tended to cancel one another out. Adept-class mages tended to be in teaching, or in some otherwise less-hazardous aspect of their profession.

  Most mages, Adept-class or not, were unwilling to risk themselves in all-out mage-duels for the sake of a mere employer. Most employers were reluctant to antagonize them.

  But when the ruler himself was a mage, or backed by one—a powerful mage, at that—the rules changed. Mages could be coerced, like anyone else; or blackmailed, or bribed, if the offer was high enough. There was already evidence of coercion, magical and otherwise; outright control, like the men of his armies. And where there was a power broker, there were always those who wanted power above all else and were willing to pay any price to get it.

  So Valdemar wasn’t protected anymore because there was someone willing to pay the price of breaking the protections.

  Or bending them....

  All right; when the Border-protection has failed, what’s been the common denominator? She rubbed her temple, as she tried to think of what those failures had in common.

  It didn’t keep Hulda out—but she didn’t work any magic while she was here. It didn’t keep some of Ancar’s spells out, but they were cast across the Border. It didn’t keep that assassin out—but the spell must surely have been cast on him when
he was with Ancar. And it didn’t keep Need out, but Need hasn’t done a blessed thing—openly—since Kero got here.

  So; as long as there wasn’t any active magic-casting within the borders, the protections they had relied on weren’t working anymore.

  Or else there were now mages who were stronger than the protections, so long as they worked from outside.

  And, without a doubt, Ancar had figured that out, too.

  Furthermore, no matter how powerful the protections were, unless they were caused by some deity or other—which Elspeth very much doubted—they could be broken altogether, instead of merely circumvented.

  And when—not if, but when—Ancar accomplished that, they were going to be as helpless as a mouse beneath the talons of a predator.

  As if to underscore that, Elspeth heard the call of an owl, somewhere out in the gardens.

  Someone was going to have to find a mage—preferably a very powerful mage, one who wouldn’t suffer from whatever had kept the Skybolts’ mages out—and bring him to Valdemar.

  That was going to take a lot of money, persuasion, or both. The first they had—or could get. The second just required the right person. Someone who was experienced in diplomacy and negotiation.

  Or, failing being able to bring someone in, a Herald was going to have to learn magic herself.

  That’s it, she decided. That’s what I need to do—find a mage and bring him in. I’m the perfect instrument for the job. Or learn magic; Kero says there are some things-according to her grandmother-that just need a trained will. I’ve certainly got that.

  And as for where to find a mage—I think I know just the place to start.

  This time Elspeth called the meeting, at breakfast, in her mother’s suite. She hoped to catch her in a malleable mood—which she often was in the early morning. Not that Elspeth enjoyed being up that early; on the whole, she preferred never to have to view the sunrise.

  But for a good cause, she’d sacrifice a bit of sleep.

  She stated her case as clearly and logically as possible, before Selenay had finished her muffins, but after she’d had her first two cups of tea. She’d thought about her presentation very carefully; why someone had to go chasing mages, and why that someone had to be her. Then she sat back and waited for her answer.

  She has to agree. There’s no other choice for us.

  “No,” Selenay stated flatly. “It’s not possible.”

  For a moment she was taken aback, but she rallied her defenses, thought quickly and plowed gamely onward. “Mother, I don’t see where there’s any choice,” Elspeth replied, just as firmly as her mother. “I’ve told you the facts. Kero backs up my guesses about what’s likely to happen, and she’s the best tactician we have. And Alberich backs her up. The three of us have talked this over a lot.”

  “I don‘t—” Selenay fell strangely silent, looking troubled and very doubtful. Elspeth followed up her advantage. I can’t give her a chance to say anything. Look at her hands, she’s clutching things again. It’s conflict between being a mother and the ruler. I think I can convince the Council, but I have to convince her before I convince the Council.

  “We can’t do this on our own anymore; we have to have help. We have to have a mage-‘Adept-class,’ is what Kero says. Someone who can work around whatever it is that keeps active mages out. We have to find someone like that who is willing not only to help us but to teach Heralds if he can.”

  “I don’t see why—” Selenay began. “We’ve managed all right until now. Why can’t the Gifts provide an adequate defense? They’ve worked so far.”

  “Mother, believe me, there hasn’t been a real trial of them,” Elspeth countered. “I’ve listened to Kero’s stories, and frankly they won’t hold against a real effort by several mages. I’ll tell you what, I suspect that we have people capable of becoming mages. The Chronicles all talk about a ‘Mage-Gift’ just as if it were something like—oh, Firestarting; rare, but not unusual. I don’t think it’s been lost. I think that we’ve just forgotten how to tell what it is, and how to train it. But to do that, we need a mage. A good one. And Kero says that all the good teachers are Adept-class.”

  “Even if all that is true,” Selenay said, after a long silence, her hands clenched around her mug. “Why should you be the one to go?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’ve got Crown powers. When I find a mage we can trust, I can offer him anything reasonable—and I know what’s reasonable; Kero’s briefed me on hiring mages. For another—I’m not indispensable. You have two more heirs, and if you want to know the truth, I’m not certain I should wear the crown.” She smiled ruefully. “I take shortcuts a little too often to make the Council comfortable.”

  Selenay returned the smile reluctantly, but it faded just as quickly as it came.

  Elspeth shrugged. “The truth of the matter is that the twins are probably going to be better rulers than I would. The Council can’t object to letting me go, with two more candidates for the throne still here. I’m a full Herald, I know what we need, Kero can probably give me contacts, and I have Crown authority. I’m the best—absolutely best—person for the job.”

  Selenay started to say something—Elspeth waited for the rebuke—but it never came. It was almost as if something had interrupted her before she could say anything.

  Odd.

  But she followed up on her advantage.

  “Let me give you another reason. You wanted me safe, right? You can put forty layers of guards on the twins and they won’t mind, but you know very well that I won’t put up with it. On the other hand, if you send me to Uncle Faram, Ancar won’t know where to find me at first—and when he finds out, he won’t risk a try for me in Rethwellan. Uncle has a larger army, he has mages, and I don’t think even Ancar would risk all-out war with him.” She firmed her jaw and raised her head stubbornly. “Besides, I won’t be there for long, I’ll be looking for Kero’s old mage Quenten. He has a school, she says, and if anybody can find us mages, I should think he would. When I’m there, I’ll be surrounded by mages. I couldn’t possibly be safer than that.”

  Selenay finally sighed and unclenched her hands. “There must be something wrong with that logic, but I can’t figure out what it is,” she said, her brow furrowed with an unhappy frown.

  Elspeth turned a look of appeal on Talia, who bit her lip and looked very uncomfortable. As if part of her wants to side with me, and part of her doesn’t.

  “I just don’t like it,” Selenay said, finally. “You’re far too vulnerable. Even traveling through Valdemar, I wouldn’t feel comfortable unless you had a full company of troops with you. Traveling across the Comb is nearly as dangerous in summer as winter—there are thunder-storms, wild beasts—and the only decent pass is too close to Karse for my comfort.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t allow it. Bringing in a mage—that’s not a bad idea. I think you’re right about that much. But the person I send won’t be you.”

  Selenay’s chin came up and her voice took on a steely quality that Elspeth knew only too well. There was no arguing with her mother in this mood.

  She could appeal to her stepfather and Alberich. Kero was already on her side.

  But not now.

  And it might take weeks, even months, to get Selenay to change her mind. By then it would be fall or winter, and she would have another excuse to keep Elspeth at home—the weather. And perhaps by then it would be too late.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. The odd pressure inside her, now that she had a goal in mind and a task that really needed to be done, was already uncomfortable. Any delay would make it intolerable.

  She had to go—had to. And she couldn’t. She wanted to scream, argue, cry, anything.

  But just a single word at this point would ensure that she would never win Selenay’s permission. And without that permission, there was no point in going to the Council; they would never override the Queen on this.

  If I just ran off and did it—

  No, that wouldn’t work, e
ither.

  She had to have Crown and Council authority to make this mission a success, and running off on her own was not going to win her either.

  So instead of bursting out, as she really wanted to, she simply clamped her mouth shut.

  She got up, leaving her breakfast untasted, bowed stiffly, and took herself out of the room altogether.

  She managed to keep her temper as far as her rooms—where she slammed the door shut behind her, and yanked open the closet so hard she nearly took the door off the hinges. The handle did come loose in her hand, and she flung it across the room without a single word, grabbing a set of old clothes from the back of the closet, pulling off her uniform and throwing it in a heap on the floor, and pulling on the new clothing with no care whatsoever.

  She heard several stitches pop as she pulled the shirt over her head and ignored them.

  :Kitten?: Gwena said, tentatively. :Dearest, don’t be too discouraged. Things can change, sometimes in a heartbeat. There are events occurring out on the borders that none of us know about yet—one of those may force your mother to change her mind.:

  :Don’t patronize me,: Elspeth snarled. :I’m past the age when you can tell me that everything will be all right. We have trouble, and no one wants to admit it or let me do my part in meeting it. So leave me alone, all right? Let me cool down my own way.:

  :Oh—: Gwena replied, very much taken aback by the barely-suppressed rage in Elspeth’s Mind-voice. Then she remained silent though Elspeth sensed her watchful presence in the back of her mind.

  She ignored it; leaving her rooms with another slamming of doors and heading defiantly out to the gardens and her pottery shed.

  No one even tried to stop her. Several people looked curiously at her as she stormed past, but no one spoke.

  Most of the evidence of the assassination attempt was gone, along with the remains of those pieces that were smashed in the struggle. The floor had been swept clean—much, much cleaner than Elspeth ever kept it.