Her first emotion when she woke, later in the afternoon, was disappointment. Sleep had only deferred her problems for a little while. She did feel better, though. With an effort, she forced herself to leave the comfortable safety of her room. The sooner she solved Preusa’s problems, the sooner they would let her leave.
Markus Asgaya found her shortly after she emerged. Dominic was nowhere in sight.
“How charming!” Markus said, giving her an admiring glance. “You will enliven the gloom of the company simply by your presence.”
Ardhuin looked down. She wore a cream-colored tea gown, the only article of clothing both she and her mother approved of—she because of the comfort, her mother because of the cut and style. She hadn’t even been aware of what she had chosen when she put it on.
“Should I wear something else?”
Markus shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I admit the protocol for female Mage Guardians has not yet been established, but that simply means you will be the standard against which all others will be judged. A weighty task, but you have begun admirably. Besides, you are the heir of Oron. A certain eccentricity is expected.”
What had her great-uncle done to earn this reputation? Shown up without a shirt?
“Come,” Markus said, offering his arm. “They want to hear your version of last night’s events. I delayed them as long as I could, but now that you are awake they will insist on your presence.”
He bore her irresistibly along, talking in a cheerful, inconsequential way the entire time. Ardhuin heard him as if he were talking from a distance. The same remote feeling as before surrounded her like a fog. She wanted to ask about Dominic, but she was afraid of the answer.
There were a handful of men in the room when they entered. One she recognized from the Council meetings, Dr. Roemer. He was an ars magica professor from the university, advanced in years but still possessing a sharp mind hidden behind a gentle manner. The others were mage-level magicians from various departments. She forgot the names as soon as Markus introduced them; she was still having a great deal of trouble paying attention.
“...and this is the head of the Kriegszauberkollegium, Magus-Kommandant von Koller. Herr Magus, this is—”
“I have no wish to be introduced to this...person.” Von Koller rose to his feet and glared at Ardhuin, undisguised hatred in his eyes. He was a large, muscular man with a thick moustache and short-clipped salt-and-pepper hair. He wore the usual Kriegsa uniform, but with additions that made it look more than a little military.
The fog around her mind burned suddenly away. Ardhuin felt the old sick feeling of apprehension return, and she had a sudden impulse to turn and run.
“Are you trying to destroy us? Your vapid imaginings have ruined a proud and loyal institution, but that is nothing to you, in your deluded belief of power. How dare you!”
It was hard to breathe, to think. “I was asked to come here,” she stammered. “I had an obligation.” How she wished that were not true. Von Koller could not possibly want her to leave more than she did.
His eyes narrowed. “We asked for a mage, and you are no mage, girl! Now get out!” He strode up to her, his face working. Ardhuin was too paralyzed by terror to move, but Markus quickly stepped in front of her.
“I must object, sir. Fraülein Andrews is here at the King’s request, and I can personally attest to her abilities.”
Von Koller scowled at Markus. “And it is a sign of our decay that a mongrel like yourself is even allowed within the palace. You are not worthy of the uniform you wear,” he said in an even, implacable tone. Markus stiffened and went as pale as his brown skin would allow.
“The Magus-Kommandant is no doubt aware I am forbidden to accept or give challenges, which is why he feels so free to speak in such a manner,” Markus replied in the coldest voice Ardhuin had ever heard him use.
Von Koller stiffened in turn, but before he could speak, Dr. Roemer interrupted gently. “There is no need for such behavior before a lady, von Koller. She does not deserve your anger.” His tone was one of reproof, and von Koller’s face grew noticeably more red, but he refrained from any reply. “Now, my dear, I understand you were present at the recent unfortunate event, and I am told you confronted von Gerling by yourself. What can you tell us of that?”
“Impossible,” sputtered von Koller. “Von Gerling is the victim of a vendetta. What could he possibly fear from her?”
The gentle, encouraging expression on the old professor’s face, ignoring von Koller’s angry comments, made it possible for Ardhuin to take a deep breath and speak.
“I suggest, sir, that you ask Herr von Gerling why he attacked us with no provocation—if you can find him.” Her knees shook, but she didn’t dare sit down. “I would also like to know who taught him the Devourer Gate spell. It was cast on the doorway of his study.”
There was a deep silence, broken by sotto voce queries that seemed to be about the Preusan translation of the spell’s name.
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” von Koller snapped. “How could you possibly recognize that? It is forbidden, Mage War magic.”
“A Mage Guardian is required to know such things,” Ardhuin said. Her voice shook too, but only a little.
“Did I understand you correctly? Von Gerling attacked you?” Dr. Roemer asked.
“Not me, but my assistant. I returned the attack, and von Gerling fled inside the house. I followed and found him in his study. I attacked again, but he was able to escape through a broken window.” And if she had not been so spent, she could have followed him.
“You can’t even tell a consistent lie,” von Koller said with contempt. “Have you forgotten the Devourer Gate you said was guarding him? Or do such things not affect you?”
“I forced it back on him,” Ardhuin blurted. She had forgotten the anger that had made it possible; even she found it incredible now as she recounted the story.
One of the other magicians gave an astonished snort of laughter. Von Koller relaxed a little. “No doubt. Did you then call down lightning, or summon a dragon? We have wasted enough time with you. These are serious matters, and we cannot humor you and your fairy tales. Go and attend to more suitable things for young ladies. You will find dancing lessons much more enjoyable.”
The rage did not build; it was present in an instant. It consumed her. The power was gathered before she was even conscious of her plan.
Ardhuin stepped away from Markus before he could realize what she was doing, and raised her hands. “I do not choose to dance,” she hissed. And let the full force of her power go.
Dominic took out his watch yet again, shook his head, and put it back in his waistcoat pocket.
“Isn’t there anything we can be doing?”
“Very little, I am afraid.” Gutrune von Kitren examined the selection of little pastries on the plate, finally selecting a chocolate macaroon. She wore a light blue ensemble corded with black passementerie like a cavalry uniform. “Your assistance will not be welcome. They will be at pains to conceal any weakness from foreigners at such a time.” She inclined her head in a graceful half-apology.
“But we were the ones who uncovered it!”
“True, and they will never forgive you for doing so. Only consider, Herr Kermarec. This is a scandal that has shaken the Kriegszauberkollegium at the highest levels. It is a very important part of our defenses. If they did not know Herr von Gerling was, at the very least, plotting for personal gain, what else has been hidden from them?”
The more public search of von Gerling’s quarters had uncovered a set of bank books with a startling total, completely unsupported by his official income.
“It is also disturbing that no one has been able to contact Herr von Stangen. He is...not where he was expected to be.”
Dominic saw her austere expression and realized there was even more going on than she was telling him, at least explicitly. Von Stangen was the second-ranking magician at the Kriegsa. That would indeed be a s
candal if he were also involved, and everyone there would be under suspicion to some degree.
He took a sip of his tea. It had grown cold. The door opened and a harried-looking man looked in, apologized for intruding, and closed it again. Outside, he heard the sound of running feet and urgent voices. Another man came in, this time in the black uniform of a schutzmagus, and quickly scanned the room before turning to go.
“Is something wrong?” Gutrune asked in a tone that meant tell-me-or-else.
“The, ah, that is, Fraülein Andrews is needed urgently.” His eyes darted to and fro and he swallowed nervously.
“I had thought she was in discussions with the senior magicians,” Dominic said, frowning.
“Yes sir. She was.” The schutzmagus looked even more nervous. “Your pardons, Fraülein, sir.” He darted away.
Now Dominic was really worried. “If they won’t tell you, it must be serious,” he said, getting up from his seat. “But what are they searching for? A lost canary? He was looking up at the ceiling!”
He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d left a message for Ardhuin. She either hadn’t gotten it or didn’t want to talk to him. Something was wrong.
He heard Markus shouting outside in the hallway, arguing. “Well? What manner of fool insults another mage like that? It’s not as if he wasn’t warned! Von Koller got his just rewards for being an idiot, and I hope he learns his lesson.”
“Yes, but he can’t learn it in his current condition,” the other man pointed out. “Look, Asgaya, it doesn’t matter if she was justified in doing it. We can’t get him out and we’ve tried everything! Find her, for God’s sake!”
“If she doesn’t want to be found, neither you nor I will find her. What we need is—” Markus caught sight of Dominic and his expression changed. “Come, quickly. We have a problem.”
“Where is Ardhuin? What have you done to her?” Dominic was in no mood to do anything but make sure she was safe.
Markus had taken him by the arm and was propelling him into the next room, which was full of agitated magicians. His face was haggard. “Von Koller was being even more offensive than usual, and she did...that.”
He dragged Dominic through the crowd and pointed. A man in a Kriegsa uniform was literally embedded in the wall. His arms and feet stuck out from the otherwise undisturbed surface. His face was purple with suppressed fury, no doubt exacerbated by the fact he could not speak. He had no mouth.
“What did he say to her?” Dominic asked, awed and a little frightened.
Markus shook his head, looking confused. “Oh, the usual sort of nonsense. Nothing she has not heard before, actually, perhaps not as crudely expressed, but still! He refused to believe what she said about what happened with von Gerling. The next thing I know he’s flying into the wall and she’s nowhere to be seen.”
“I find it hard to believe she would lose her temper to such a degree for that,” Gutrune remarked, behind them. She looked at von Koller coolly, then returned her attention to Markus. “Are you sure that is all he said?”
“It was all of a piece, rude and deliberately offensive. He even made sure to insult me as well. I had thought, though, the worst was over. He had decided she was simply making it up and was treating her like an over-imaginative child. Told her to go back to her dancing lessons.”
Gutrune gasped. The look of shock on her usually calm face surprised Dominic as much as if she had screamed.
“Oh. I see.” She took a deep breath.
“See what?” Markus asked, perplexed. “What’s wrong with dancing lessons?”
Gutrune had regained control of her expression, and she shook her head. “It is not for me to say. However, I most strongly urge you never to mention them to her. As you can see, the associations are painful.” She gestured to the imprisoned von Koller.
“Well, whatever her feelings, we can’t leave him like that.” Markus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Tempting though it is. Can you look for her? She can’t hide from your talent,” he said, turning to Dominic.
Dominic was not so sure, but since he also desperately wanted to find her, he agreed. Ardhuin was not in the workroom, or anywhere else he would expect her to be.
“We may have to search the entire palace,” he sighed. “I don’t think she has left. Her cloak is still here.” Dominic fingered the emerald rosebud stickpin in his cravat, wishing the magic worked both ways so he could find her. “Is it really so urgent to find her? She will likely return when her temper has cooled.”
“Unfortunately, yes. We can’t figure out how to release von Koller. She’s transformed him into the wall itself. We have to reverse it correctly or it will kill him. And that, by the way, would reverse any improvements we have only now managed to introduce,” he added, giving Dominic a significant look.
Dominic stared at Markus, incredulous. “What? All these magicians, and you can’t do anything?”
Markus shrugged. “Everything we’ve tried doesn’t work. I don’t understand it.”
“Well, maybe I can help. I’m not much good finding her,” Dominic said.
Back in the room with the imprisoned von Koller, Dominic examined the magic carefully. As he understood what Ardhuin had done, he had to fight the impulse to laugh. It would only make the situation worse. At last he had to gesture to Markus to follow him outside, where he could grin unseen by von Koller.
“It’s an illusion,” Dominic said, snickering.
Markus gaped. “What?”
“There’s no transformation; that’s why your spells weren’t attaching. She’s used an extremely strong stasis field along the entire wall, anchored at the far corners. There’s another on his mouth. Everything else is illusion.” He felt a great relief. Even though she had been very angry, Ardhuin had acted with enough restraint to not harm her tormentor—just humiliate him and demonstrate to everyone else what she could do. The illusion was a masterful touch. If he had not pointed it out, the other magicians would have tried for days to lift a spell that wasn’t there.
After thinking about it for a moment, Markus started chuckling too. “Superb. Now, how long do you think we should leave him like that? He doesn’t look very repentant to me.”
“That’s entirely your affair,” Dominic replied, his worry returning full force. Ardhuin was angry, hurt, and alone. “I’m going to look for Ardhuin.”
The room she’d found to hide in was small by palace standards but it still had several sofas and chairs. All Ardhuin cared about were the windows, and of course none of the sofas faced that direction. She fixed that. Then she curled up and stared out at the grey sky above the rooftops of Baerlen, wishing she could blow something up.
Everything had gone wrong. The Preusans hated her, Dominic was afraid of her, and she still didn’t know why she had been attacked in Peran. The only thing that could make it worse would be if her mother found out what she had been doing.
Even though she was still furious, she had to admit some of her problems were her own fault. If she’d known what being a Mage Guardian was like, she would have refused. Had her great-uncle known? Was that why he hadn’t told her much about what she must do?
Ardhuin thought for a moment, anger slowly dying, and reluctantly decided Oron would not have deliberately put her at such a disadvantage. He might have avoided it because he disliked it, until it was too late for him to rectify the omission. He hadn’t told anybody about her, again likely because he did not want to be embroiled in an argument. And then he had died.
A tear rolled down her cheek. He hadn’t planned that either. Still, here she was. It had been his responsibility to prepare her, and that preparation had been incomplete. What had he been thinking? Was she really the only choice he had?
She sat in the gloom and wondered what to do next. They weren’t going to forgive what she had done. The best thing would be to leave without anybody knowing. But how?
Ardhuin considered and discarded plans, her tragic mood deepening the more she th
ought about the trouble she was in. Her gear was in the workroom; she’d have to get it out, and then get herself and the trunks out of the Imperial Palace without detection. And what about Dominic? She winced. He had followed her here out of a misplaced chivalry. Well, she’d cured that. It wasn’t his fault, though, and he didn’t deserve to be abandoned here.
If she told Dominic, he would try to stop her. He couldn’t do it himself, but he could tell others. Miserable, Ardhuin realized she would have to choose between escape and honor. He would be all right. They didn’t hate him like they hated her. He might even be asked to stay by one of the mages here, for his talents. She’d already lost his love and his trust. It didn’t matter anymore what he thought of her.
But it does matter! her treacherous heart protested. Ardhuin clenched her jaw. She was being soft. She could not afford to hope.
How long had she been sitting here? Her stomach was starting to growl and the light outside was getting dim. She had to move quickly. Take only what she could carry herself, leave everything else behind. She stood stiffly and went to the windows to see if she could see a likely escape route.
There were people in the courtyard, and she drew back out of sight. The shadow spell should be enough to avoid notice. She drew it about her and went to the window again.
A hand suddenly appeared, scrabbling for purchase on the edge of the ornamental balcony before the window, joined soon after by a matching hand. The fingers tightened, and Dominic’s face appeared. He was looking directly at her and shouting something.
She’d put up wards, of course, and they dampened the sound. Her chest tightened with fear. She couldn’t hide from Dominic; he could see through everything she could do. Fear and indecision paralyzed Ardhuin. What did he want to say to her? Did she even want to hear it?
The Last Mage Guardian Page 25
