The Last Mage Guardian

by Sabrina Chase

  “The people from the neighboring quarters are remaining outside,” Gutrune observed calmly, her pistol in one hand as she checked Ardhuin’s pulse with the other. “Why is that?”

  Markus grinned again, the glint of mischief strong in his eyes. “Perhaps they took to heart my offhand comments about needing to disable the many magical traps we’ve found,” he said. “And lo, I spoke the truth without knowing!”

  “A common occurrence, I think,” muttered Dominic under his breath.

  “It will not buy us much time. One of the brighter individuals will undoubtedly realize the Kriegszauberkollegium must have someone equally capable of dealing with traps, and send for them. Describe this seal to me,” he said, looking at Dominic.

  His amused, mocking manner was gone. Markus Asgaya was all business dealing with the magical seal, asking precise, knowledgeable questions. Despite himself, Dominic felt a grudging respect. It was very different from working with Ardhuin. Markus was slower, making it easier for Dominic to see the separate steps involved. Ardhuin’s fluid style was more impressive, but this was still interesting.

  “Ah, that should do it. Is it engaged?” Markus asked. Dominic checked. All the overlayers were precisely matched to the ones on the seal, and he nodded.

  He blinked at the flare of bright magic released by the seal. Apparently even Markus had sensed something, for he whistled.

  “That would have been nasty. Now, let’s see what we have here.” Markus delicately lifted the false bottom out of place and reached inside. “Looks like letters. So why the elaborate concealment? Hmm.” Only the pages had been preserved; the covers were missing. Markus skimmed one, and suddenly sucked in his breath.

  “What is it?” Dominic asked, seeing his frozen expression.

  “Oh, merely a scandal of monumental proportions,” Markus said in a faint voice. “Herr von Gerling appears to be having a most imprudent affair with a certain well-connected woman.” He tucked the letters in an inner pocket of his coat, shuddering.

  “Why are you so shocked?” Dominic asked. “I had not thought your morality so strict.”

  “Oh, it isn’t,” Markus agreed without offense. “Court scandal usually amuses me, but this...no one would benefit if this came to light. Her husband is vindictive and powerful. The King’s interests,” he said carefully, “would be badly hurt if this were known.”

  Gutrune looked up from her station by the sofa. “I exist to serve.”

  “I dare not, forgive me. Even you should not know.” Markus appeared genuinely distressed. “I should not know. These should go directly to the King or into the fire.”

  “Seal them in a packet, and I will deliver them to the King. You cannot do it yourself without attracting notice,” Gutrune pointed out, stepping closer. “Decide quickly. I believe they have decided to enter despite the danger.” Her gaze alighted on the highly improper postcards, and her eyebrows went up.

  Dominic and Markus both made a desperate effort to conceal them, but it was too late. Gutrune gave them an enigmatic look, then commented, “An excellent decoy. Anyone searching would assume the pictures were the only items concealed. I am surprised, though, that some are of quite recent date. I do not think Herr von Gerling was granted permission to travel, considering the current situation.”

  “I cannot believe that you are conversant with this type of thing,” Markus said, his eyes wide with shock. Dominic was equally dumbfounded.

  A small smile curved the corner of Gutrune’s lips. “I have seen one of these dancers before. The one with the fan,” she said blandly. One of the cards did feature a picture of a dancer with a fan—and no other concealment for her charms. “She was more warmly dressed when I had occasion to see her, on her debut three months ago at the Chien Vert cabaret in Parys. Also, I believe I saw the name Trezabel on another. That establishment, I am informed, opened its doors a mere five weeks ago.”

  She turned her head to the entrance. The sound of feet stumbling over pieces of broken door could be clearly heard. “They are coming in. Go to the study—I will attempt to delay them.”

  Markus quickly closed the hidden compartment and left the parlor. Dominic followed, dazed by all the sudden revelations. Gutrune had been right about one thing, though. Ardhuin was looking better.

  The wash of magic over the chilly study was beginning to fade, fortunately. Dominic started searching, while Markus took the scandalous letters and folded them in a sheet of paper. Dominic saw magic as well as molten wax go into the seal.

  “What luck?” Markus asked, tucking the packet back in his inner pocket.

  “You have decided to give them to her?” Dominic asked.

  Markus scowled. “She’s right, damn her. I have no choice. They are too dangerous. Well?”

  “Avoidance spell on the bookend that looks like a gargoyle. Sloppy stasis lock on the second drawer of the big bookcase. Something hit the corner of the desk; I can’t see anything past that. Pieces of glass with magic, but that’s from the fight.”

  He could hear voices from the shattered window as he continued to point out magic to Markus. They should conceal their presence as long as possible. They were lucky that the study window did not front the street, but it would probably be wise to draw the one remaining drape to hide the light.

  Dominic went to the window, kicking aside the larger globes of glass from his path. A folded paper was lodged between the drape and the sill, and he picked it up. Leaning out, he saw two other papers, one torn, on the flagstones outside. Carefully avoiding the glass remaining in the frame, he eased himself out the window and dropped to the ground.

  “What on earth are you doing?” hissed Markus. “They are coming!”

  “Looks like he dropped them,” Dominic said softly, holding the papers in his hand. Seeing the door to the study open behind Markus, he whispered, “I’ll come in the front! Be surprised!”

  He dropped down out of sight, waiting for a clear chance to leave the side alley and get back inside unobserved. Behind him, he heard Markus dealing with the Kriegszauberkollegium officials. Creeping away, he realized it was a very good thing that Markus Asgaya was an accomplished liar.

  Someone was beating on her head with padded mallets. Ardhuin wished they would stop. The sensations became a little more distinct, and she realized they were voices, not mallets, but they still made her head throb. She moaned and tried to wrap her head in her arms, but something was making it hard to move them.

  “Do you need anything?” It was like being hit with a pillow. This voice was low and much quieter than the others, but it was so close it seemed her whole body vibrated. Ardhuin opened her eyes. Gutrune von Kitren looked down at her, and the ceiling behind her swirled in a way that made Ardhuin’s eyes twist. She shut them again.

  “So...loud...” Ardhuin managed, her head aching anew with her own voice.

  She felt a firm, strong grip on her hand that released, followed by a cloud of rustling noises. Somewhere in the distance Gutrune spoke, and was answered by chastened booming voices that faded and then disappeared. The relief of silence was so great it brought tears to her eyes.

  Rustling and a cool hand on her forehead told her Gutrune had returned. “Do you feel able to sit up?” she asked, so softly it didn’t even hurt. Ardhuin nodded, surprised that her head didn’t fall off. It did swim unpleasantly, though, and a cloud of dust made her sneeze. It sounded like a cannon going off.

  She drank the water Gutrune put to her lips, which helped with the dust. After a moment she dared to open her eyes. “What happened?” she croaked.

  Gutrune gave her a quick summary, apologizing for being unable to stop von Gerling. “At present we have officers of the Kriegszauberkollegium investigating with Herr Asgaya and Herr Kermarec,” she added. A certain restraint in her voice told Ardhuin there was more to the story.

  “Dominic...Herr Kermarec is unharmed?”

  “Yes. You are the only one who has suffered any ill effects. He was quite concerned for you.”
/>
  Again that slight restraint in Gutrune’s voice.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Gutrune hesitated. “He did not approve of Herr Asgaya’s attempt to assist you,” she said. “You should be aware—we have not told the officials anything about you, merely indicating you were attacked by von Gerling. They have not asked any awkward questions yet, but they will if given the chance. Do you think you can stand?”

  Her head felt much better now, but attempting to stand brought on another severe dizzy spell. If Gutrune had not been there, she would have fallen.

  “No matter; you must rest until you feel more able.” Gutrune took a seat in a chair nearby, taking her pistol from the table and tucking it into her fur muff.

  Ardhuin frowned. Little memories were coming back.

  “Do you remember what Markus Asgaya said to you, when you first showed him that?” she asked.

  Gutrune looked at her inquiringly. “Why, yes. It seemed an unusual thing for him to say.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t him,” Ardhuin said, feeling awkward. “I mean, it’s a saying. Among the Yunwiyans, “treasure of the nation” is another way to refer to a woman warrior. They have them, you know, and they are held in the highest esteem. Any Yunwiyan man would be proud to marry one,” she said, her voice trailing off uncomfortably. “I just...thought you should know.”

  It was impossible to tell what Gutrune’s reaction to this piece of information was. Her expression remained one of calm politeness as she gravely thanked Ardhuin, then asked if she was feeling better.

  “I think so,” Ardhuin said cautiously. The dizziness had abated, certainly. She tugged at the swath of heavy fabric surrounding her, releasing a cloud of dust. She sneezed, her head throbbing again, and looked more closely at what she was wrapped in. “Why a curtain?” she managed when she could talk again. A lock of hair fell free over her forehead. She reached up. As she feared, her hair was half undone. She must look like she had been dragged backwards through a thicket.

  “Herr Kermarec was concerned that you were not warm enough. The curtain, I believe, was already torn down during—” Gutrune stopped. Another group of people had entered, one of whom Ardhuin recognized. Ermut Arendt.

  “I am glad to see you are better,” he said, coming forward and giving a polite bow. Ardhuin tried not to wince at his voice. It was also depressing to see him treat her with such formal courtesy, after his easy friendliness at the party.

  Ardhuin was painfully aware of her disheveled appearance, wrapped in a dusty curtain. Of course she could not be as friendly and relaxed as when she was hiding behind an illusion, and she stammered a greeting. Then it occurred to her that Ermut himself seemed more than a little confused and off-balance. The other men with him continued down the hall, ignoring the two women as unimportant.

  “I should apologize for imposing on your friends as I did,” Ardhuin said, as loudly as she could without making her head pound, “but it was the most agreeable part of the evening.”

  Ermut smiled and relaxed a little. “The illusion on you was completely convincing,” he said. “As was the one on the schutzmagus. I was going to ask him—but it occurred to me, having seen—” he waved in the direction of the study, “perhaps you are the correct person to ask.” He took out a small photograph. “Can you tell me why he was illusioned to look like this man?”

  Ardhuin took the photograph. It was, in fact, the eager young magician she had seen at the Kriegszauberkollegium. “No particular reason, save that it is easier to cast that level of illusion using a model instead of imagination.” There, she had been truthful without admitting anything. “Why do you ask?”

  Ermut looked uncomfortable again. “He was the one I mentioned, the friend of Hans. He was killed in a duel earlier today.”

  Ardhuin froze, suddenly making some disturbing connections. Hans’ friend, the one killed, was a Kriegsa magician. Von Gerling had not shown any suspicion until he saw Markus, illusioned as the dead man. When he did, he panicked.

  Why? Von Gerling must have known about the duel and expected a certain person to die—and if that person hadn’t died, then he knew something von Gerling desperately wanted to keep secret.

  “Fraülein....” Ermut still had something on his mind.

  “Andrews.” Ardhuin smiled at him, feeling tired. “That much was true.”

  “Good, it will save me learning another name.” His answering smile was perfunctory. “I must ask. How did you do it? I could never fight von Gerling and win...and he ran from you. I think...I think the illusion was yours, too. It only vanished when you were on the point of collapse.”

  Gutrune had stiffened in her chair, but there was nothing she could say to undo the damage. Ermut was a magician, and confident in what he had seen. Fortunately, he was the only one who had.

  Ardhuin twisted her hands together, wondering what to do. “Women don’t do magic. Everyone knows this.”

  “But—”

  “It is a matter of grave importance that this impression is not corrected in Fraülein Andrews’ case,” Gutrune said quietly. “State importance.”

  Ermut looked at her, then at the jeweled eagle pin on her pelisse. His eyes widened. “I see. I will say nothing. The schutzmagus...?”

  “He knows.”

  “Ah.” Ermut scratched his head. “May I be of help in any way? It would be a privilege, and if you—” he stopped and corrected himself carefully, “if a mage needed temporary magical assistance while recovering from the kraftdampung, I would be glad to provide it.”

  “The ...kraft-what?” Ardhuin asked. He’d called her a mage. What did he mean by that?

  “Kraftdampung. It can happen when a mage overextends his abilities, but usually only in the heat of battle. There is a collapse, then, and limited power for a period of time. If done to extremes,” Ermut said, looking serious, “it can kill. All war magicians are warned of this, from the beginning of their training.”

  Well. Useful information, Ardhuin supposed, not that it would have changed much if she had known.

  “Is there any way to treat this condition?” she asked.

  “I have heard that milk can help,” Ermut offered.

  It was very late by the time Ardhuin, Dominic, and Markus returned to the Imperial Palace in a carriage borrowed from the Kriegszauberkollegium. Ardhuin wasn’t completely certain because of her limited Preusan, but it appeared the Council had changed its attitude regarding her presence. Presumably von Gerling had left enough incriminating evidence to convince the officials of his guilt in something. She wished she knew what.

  Perhaps it had something to do with the packet Markus had slipped to Gutrune, which she immediately tucked into her muff. Markus had made sure none of the Kriegsa magicians were in sight before he did, though. Gutrune had left when they did, but alone, to complete her mysterious errand with Stoller and the lamplighter’s cart.

  So tired. It was hard to think, to concentrate. Maybe the milk would help with that, if she could get some. She didn’t like milk. Ardhuin frowned with the effort of remembering. Had Ermut said to drink it?

  “Ardhuin. We’re here.” Dominic had a worried expression on his face, and she struggled to appear awake and alert. “Can you get out without assistance?”

  She could, just barely. For the rest, however, she had to lean rather heavily on Dominic. “I am sorry,” Ardhuin gasped, stopping to catch her breath. “There are too many grand staircases for me right now.” Fortunately, it was past three o’clock, and only the palace guards were in evidence.

  “Would you like to rest?” Dominic asked, laying a hand on her arm.

  Ardhuin studied the path remaining. Red figured carpeting extended up another flight, and then there was a hallway before reaching their wing. She could do that, couldn’t she?

  “Standing is tiring also,” she said, sighing. “I just want to get to my room and sleep.”

  “If need be, we can carry you,” Markus said cheerfully, flicking a glance at Domin
ic.

  She felt Dominic’s grasp tighten and his whole body stiffen. “No doubt,” Dominic said, his voice cold and unenthusiastic. Markus appeared amused.

  Ardhuin sighed. The last thing she needed was more mysteries. Her head hurt. She started wearily up the last flight of stairs.

  “I know you are very tired, but there is something I need to tell you. In your workroom,” Dominic said softly. Ardhuin started to object, but she recognized the stubborn look in his eyes. It would take effort to argue with him—easier to agree and get it over with.

  Slowly, slowly down the hall. There was the door to the workroom. Ardhuin turned once they reached it.

  “There is one last thing,” she told Markus. “It won’t take long.” If Dominic’s message was too lengthy, she would just fall asleep there. Her problem would be taken care of.

  Markus hesitated. “Are you sure that’s wise?” He looked at Dominic. “You will try to prevent her from overexertion, won’t you? I must write up what we have found for the Council, so I will leave you here.”

  “Finally,” muttered Dominic as they stepped through the wards.

  “You seem annoyed with him,” Ardhuin ventured, gratefully sinking down on the sofa inside. “Has he offended you?”

  “Offended? Well, I suppose not,” Dominic admitted. “I find his habit of smirking at you and making snide comments to me tiresome, that’s all. Everything is a joke to him. I am concerned he is trying to amuse himself with you as well.”

  It was strange how the sudden understanding flooded her mind, how it felt as if she had always known. Dominic was jealous of Markus.

  Because of her.

  It didn’t make any sense, but then wasn’t that one of the most noticeable things about love? At least, that’s what she had observed in all the stories. It didn’t make any sense that Dominic would be in love with her, either, but why else would he be acting as he had been?

  She had to say something. Her mother would have known exactly the right thing to reassure him.

  “That’s simply his nature, I think,” Ardhuin said, hoping her voice didn’t wobble too much. “He’s not making fun of you, or...or me to be cruel. He’s just teasing. My brothers are the same way—well, maybe not Chris, but even he does it sometimes,” she stopped, realizing she was babbling. “They only do it to people they really like.” Ardhuin winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Now Dominic would take what she had said as proof of intent on the part of Markus.