Valdemar 09 - [Mage Winds 01] - Winds of Fate Page 9

  Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the spring, dried himself with his shirt, and pulled on the rest of his clothing.

  If I can see what needs taking care of, then it’s my job to take care of it. My duties won’t wait—whether or not Father approves.

  Chapter Five

  ELSPETH

  Elspeth stood on guard, trembling with exhaustion, with the last of the dulled practice swords in her hands. The Captain went off-guard and nodded. “Right,” Kerowyn said, just a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “Let’s go through it again.”

  Did I hear satisfaction? Approval? Gods, maybe all the bruises are worth it after all.

  Elspeth shook sweat out of her eyes, picked up the scattered practice blades with hands that still tingled from Kero’s disarms, and distributed them randomly around the perimeter of the circle. It was kind of funny, really. This was the one and only time she had ever been ordered to just drop weapons carelessly, leaving them exactly where they fell.

  This had been another one of Kero’s little exercises in “attitude.” Today had been entirely defensive; she had not been permitted to strike a single blow.

  And she’d had one of the most strenuous workouts she’d ever had in her life.

  The exercise was simple; Kero disarmed her, and she would try to get to another weapon—by whatever means possible—before Kero could corner her. Hence the rough circle of weaponry scattered around the salle.

  Her setup—such as it was—completed, she stood in the middle of the circle, sword in hand, and waited for Kero to disarm her.

  Kero went into “ready” stance, and Elspeth matched her.

  Here it comes— Her heart beat a little faster, and her mouth dried. No matter that it was “just” a practice. With Kerowyn or Alberich, nothing was ever “just” a practice. When they delivered killing blows, they left bruises, as a reminder of what could have happened.

  The Captain came in slowly this time; Kero feinted and fenced with her for a few moments, forcing her to move away from her original position. Then, when Elspeth was not expecting it, the Captain bound her blade and sent it flying out of her hand.

  She didn’t waste a moment; the instant she lost the blade, she dove to one side, rolled, and came up with another in her hand; a shortsword, this time. Without thinking, she shifted her grip until the balance was right.

  This time Kero rushed her before she had a chance to settle herself, catching her off-guard while she was still finding the balance for the blade.

  Crap!

  She back-pedaled but not fast enough; Kero got to her and literally swatted the blade out of her hand.

  She did the unexpected—as Kero had been trying to get her to do. She rushed the Captain, barehanded, shouldering past her and springing for the next sword on the floor.

  This time, she didn’t even get a chance to get her hands on it. Kero beat her to the spot and kicked it away before she reached it.

  She dove after another, sliding belly-down across the wooden floor; she got it and started to roll over—but Kero was on top of her, and swatted that one out of her hands, too.

  This one fell short, and Elspeth made a short dive and grabbed it again; her hand tingled, and she had trouble feeling her fingers, but she got it all the same, just as Kero reached her and cut down.

  This time she didn’t lose it. This time she managed to hold onto the hilt long enough to counter Kero’s first three attempts at disarming her—even though her grip was an entirely unorthodox, two-handed one, and she never managed to return a blow.

  “That’s enough,” Kero said, stepping back and wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Elspeth simply collapsed where she lay for a moment, spread-eagled on the floor. She blinked several times to clear her eyes, and rolled over onto her side. And when Kero offered her a hand to help her up, she took it without shame.

  “Not bad,” the Captain said, as she started to pick up the scattered swords. “Not bad at all.” Elspeth cast her a startled glance. “Oh, I mean it,” the Captain grinned. “You were exhausted, your hands were numb—and you still always managed to get a weapon in your hands before I could close with you. Good job, kitten.”

  And this is the person Alberich says is better than he is. For a moment Elspeth truly did not know what to say in reply. Finally, she managed to think of something that wouldn’t get her into trouble. “Do you think I could have kept myself alive for a little while longer?” she asked.

  “At least until help came—and if Gwena couldn’t get to you in time to help, you’d be in deeper compost than anyone could be expected to get out of,” Kero told her, as she got the remainder of the practice blades and took them over to the wall to rack them. “And that is all anyone can ask for.”

  Someone cleared his throat conspicuously, and Skif emerged from the shadowed entry of the door leading to the outside of the salle. “Excuse me, Captain,” he said meekly, “but if you’re through with Elspeth, the Circle and Council want to talk to her.”

  “Now?” Kero asked, her eyebrows arching.

  Dear gods, now what? Elspeth wondered. Skif looked very odd, and unusually subdued.

  “Well, yes, sort of,” he replied, uncomfortably. “I mean, they’re meeting now, with the Queen, and they really wanted to talk with her now.”

  “Well, they can just give her a moment to sluice herself off,” Kero replied firmly. “There’s no sense in making her show up looking like a shambles.”

  :Kitten,: she Mindspoke, in private-mode, :There’s a set of my Whites and a kind of wash area in my office; you’ll fit my uniform closely enough. I know from experience that it’s easier facing an official situation if you feel as if you look presentable.:

  :Thanks,: Elspeth replied gratefully, surprised a little at the Mindspeech. Kero seldom used it, except with Eldan and her Companion, having had to conceal the fact that she had the Gift for most of her life. She was almost as flattered by Kero’s use of it with her as by the Captain’s earlier compliments.

  Elspeth darted into the Weaponsmaster’s office before Skif had a chance to stop her; there was, indeed, a pump and a deep basin in a little room in the back behind a screen, and a stack of thick towels beside it. The basin was deep enough for her to duck her head under water, and she did so. The water, fresh from the pump, was cold enough to make her yip, but it revived her considerably. She was toweling off her hair when the promised set of Whites appeared over the screen.

  She scrambled into them, and discovered, as Kero had promised, they were a close fit.

  I didn’t think Kero had a set of Whites—I thought she’d convinced everybody she was never going to wear them. Well, there are times when she plays the uniform game with everyone else. Not often, but I’ve seen her do it. I suppose if she absolutely has to show up as a formal Herald, this is as good a place to keep her Whites as any.

  They were a little loose across the shoulders and tight in the chest, but no one was likely to notice. And she realized, as she wound her wet hair into a knot at the back of her neck, that she did feel a little more confident.

  Skif was still waiting for her when she trotted out of the office, and he didn’t look too impatient. “Let’s go,” she said; he just nodded, and fell into step beside her. The two left the building side-by-side, setting a brisk pace toward the Palace.

  She glanced at him in open inquiry, but he avoided her eyes. Dear gods. What is it I’m supposed to have done? she wondered. Is this over that argument I had with Mother about recruiting mages? She tightened her jaw stubbornly. If it is—I’m not backing down. I’m right, I know I’m right.

  Why would they take her to task about that, though? What was the problem? It wasn’t as if she was espousing open revolt against the Crown....

  On the other hand, she’d been pressuring Selenay to allow her to do the mage-hunting. That might well be the problem. Some of the Councilors considered her to be impetuous, and sometimes hotheaded. Maybe they figure I intend to go riding out of here any
way, with or without permission.

  Now that was a stupid idea, if that’s what they were thinking. Not that I hadn’t considered it ... if I could get Gwena to go along with it.

  But I didn’t think about it for more than a couple of heartbeats. Really, it was a stupid idea. The only way I could get a decent mage to go along with this, would be if I had official blessing—and how would I have gotten that by running off on my own?

  But while she had been thinking about that, would anyone have “eavesdropped” on her? She didn’t think so.

  But if they had—

  She stifled a slow wave of hot anger. No use in getting angry over something that might not have happened.

  But if it has—someone is going to pay.

  They kept her cooling her heels for some time before finally letting her into the Council Chamber. Skif left her at the door and disappeared, leaving her no one to question, and being kept there did not help her smoldering temper any.

  But after she had waited, impatiently, for what seemed like hours, she heard footsteps coming down the hall leading to the Council Chamber. She turned to see the rest of the Council approaching—and at that point the door to the Council Chamber opened, and they all filed in to take their places. Elspeth no longer felt quite so annoyed at being dragged off to see the Circle, then left in the hall.

  Though it would have been nice if someone had bothered to tell her they were waiting for the other Council members to arrive.

  She took her seat with the rest, casting covert glances at the faces of those Councilors who were also in the Heraldic Circle: Teren, who had taken Elcarth’s place as Dean of the Collegium; the Seneschal’s Herald, Kyril; the Lord Marshal’s Herald, Griffon; the Queen’s Own Herald, Talia; Selenay; and Prince Daren. Their expressions didn’t tell her much; their faces were tightly controlled. That, in itself, was something; it meant they were worried. And since there was a White-clad Herald with the silver-arrow insignia of the Special Messenger sitting on the extra chair reserved for guests and petitioners, chances were slim that the Circle and Council were going to take Elspeth to task for her notions.

  She relaxed and sat back a little into the familiar bulk of her Council seat. So this is just Council business after all. If the others hadn’t looked so serious, she’d have chuckled at herself. See, Elspeth, the world doesn’t revolve around you!

  Selenay rose when the others had settled themselves. “This messenger arrived from the Eastern Border earlier this afternoon, from Shallan, one of Herald-Captain Kerowyn’s lieutenants. She had ordered this messenger to come to me, first, before reporting to his Captain.”

  Elspeth stifled a smile. There’s one in the eye for anyone who still wonders where Kero’s loyalties lie. Or the Skybolts‘, for that matter.

  “Since the Circle was in session, and since I understood that his message was fairly urgent, I had him brought here. After hearing what his message was, I decided to call an emergency Council meeting.” She nodded at the messenger as she sat down. “Herald Selwin, the floor is yours.”

  The messenger cleared his throat—though not self-consciously, Elspeth noted—and stood. “I think most of you know that the Eastern Border is considered a sensitive enough area for messengers to be posted at garrisons full time. My current post is the town garrisoned by Kerowyn’s Skybolts. Now, what you probably don’t know is that the Skybolts have—with the Queen’s knowledge and permission—been engaging in some—ah—covert activities.”

  He flushed a little, and Elspeth raised a surprised eyebrow. Some of the other Councilors muttered a little, and one of them stood up; Lady Kester, speaker for the West. “Just what do you mean by ‘covert’ activities?” she asked sharply, looking a great deal like a horse who is about to refuse a jump.

  “Well—” Herald Selwin glanced at the Queen, who shook her head imperceptibly. “Some of them—I can’t talk about. I’m sure you’ll understand—the Queen and the Consort both know every move, but it’s very much a situation where the fewer who know, the better.”

  “I trust the situation that brought you here is something you can talk about,” the woman said dryly.

  “Uh—yes, of course.” Selwin quickly regained his aplomb. “We’ve been smuggling; people and information out of Hardorn, and—uh—supplies in. One of the people we just smuggled out was not just one of Ancar’s farmers who has been pressed too far; this was an escaping prisoner.”

  We? Huh, that means Selwin’s involved, too. He’s not just a messenger. Elspeth glanced around the table; from the looks of speculation, she suspected that this had not come entirely as a surprise.

  “This wasn’t an ordinary prisoner, either,” Selwin continued. “He had been one of the under-secretaries in Ancar’s officer corps.” This time murmurs of surprise met the statement. “He held the same position under Ancar’s father, and the reason he was never replaced, like so many were, is that he is so ordinary as to be invisible. He says—and we’ve Truth-Spelled him, so we believe him—that he didn’t know what was going on until recently. ”

  Elspeth was very skeptical of that statement, until Selwin finished describing the former prisoner. Then she could believe it. Lieutenant Rojer Klinseinem was exactly the kind of focused, obsessive individual their own Seneschal and Lord Marshal prayed to see come into their secretarial corps. His life was in his accounting books; he never left his office except to eat and sleep, and he truly never thought about what those figures he toted up daily meant.

  Until Ancar’s excesses among his people began to affect even him. He found officers and court officials he had known all his life vanishing without a trace. He discovered friends, neighbors, even children in the street avoiding him when he wore his uniform. Then he noted some odd discrepancies in his accounts. One of his duties was to take care of the prison accounts. The number of prisoners in the cells had gone up, substantially, but the amount of money allotted for their maintenance had not increased in the corresponding amounts. Furthermore, the names of those imprisoned changed, sometimes weekly. For all his shortsightedness, he was an ethical man, and all these things worried him, so he decided to investigate them himself, an investigation that led him eventually to the prisons and the barracks rooms, then the king’s own dungeons.

  What he discovered horrified him. Then one of the king’s sorcerers caught him.

  He’d had the sense to keep his mouth shut about most of what he’d learned, and because he was so completely ordinary, with no record of ever thinking for himself, he was actually put under house arrest until he could be questioned by someone they called the “Truth-finder General.” He didn’t wait to discover who or what that was; he got out a back window, stole a horse, and fled toward Valdemar.

  He remembered the old days, the days of friendship with Valdemar and its Queen, and he was no longer inclined to believe the official stories about the cause of the hostilities between Valdemar and Hardorn. He fled toward a hoped-for sanctuary with the hounds on his heels.

  “I won’t go into all the details,” Selwin said, “You can question him yourself when we bring him here. Right now he’s not up to much traveling.”

  Elspeth nodded, grimly. Nothing Rojer said would surprise her, not after some of Kero’s stories—and not after what had happened to Talia.

  “What’s important at the moment is that he learned where the prisoners were vanishing to. They’re being used as sacrifices in blood-rites-and there are more of them dying every week. Ancar is bringing in mages, lots of mages, and those he is not buying outright or coercing, he’s making alliances with. Rojer says that Ancar’s long-range plans include another major war with Valdemar, and this one is going to include those mages as a major part, rather than in a support capacity. The one that caught him boasts that not even a god would be able to hold defenses against all the mages Ancar is gathering.”

  Now the muttering around the Council table grew louder, and there were distinct undertones of alarm.

  “That’s not all,” Selwin said,
over the voices. The Councilors quieted, and some looked at him with real fear in their eyes. “Right after we got Rojer out, there was an attack on the Skybolts’ garrison town. A magical attack, and it got across the Border. Past the protections.”

  “Why?” asked the Lord Patriarch—Father Ricard, who had replaced elderly Father Aldon. At the same time, the Lord Marshal asked “How?”

  “Why should be fairly obvious,” Prince Daren said, the first time he’d spoken since the meeting began. “They knew we had Rojer, and they felt what he had to tell us was important enough to try to silence him.”

  Selwin nodded. “Precisely, Your Highness,” he replied. “As for ‘how,’ I presume the mage managed to overcome the Border-protections somehow. I saw the attack. At first, I thought it was some kind of mist, and I didn’t think it looked all that dangerous. But Lieutenant Shallan said the Skybolts had seen this sort of thing before, and got us all evacuated; she said they had something to take care of it, but it would only work at a distance. The ‘mist’ turned out to be a swarm of tiny insects, no bigger than gnats, but poisonous enough to drop a man. And they were guided, there’s no doubt of that. They came out of a kind of hole in the sky.” He shook his head. “I really can’t properly describe it. But the hole appeared near the outskirts of town, inside the Valdemar Border.”

  “These insects,” the Seneschal asked, “are they gone now?”

  “Not gone, my lord,” Selwin replied. “Dead. The Skybolts, as I said, have seen this kind of weapon before. They evacuated the town, then used small catapults to lob pots of burning herbs into the streets. The insects were killed so completely that there were none to follow us, and few to return when the hole in the sky reopened.”

  He sat down again when no one else had any more questions. Prince Daren stood up in his place. “This is not going to be the last attempt, my lords and ladies,” he said grimly. “I think we can count ourselves fortunate that it was the Skybolts who encountered this first. If it had not been—if it had been a regular garrison—they would have died to a man, and we would never have known what it was that killed them.”