Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis)

by Juliet E. McKenna

  ‘Antagonism? Antagonism wasn’t the death of Kerrit Osier!’ Okeal stood up without seeking any permission from Planir or her Cloud Master.

  Jilseth couldn’t remember when the reserved magewoman had last spoken in the Council chamber, despite the widespread respect she commanded, most particularly for her proficiencies with invisibility and concealment magics.

  ‘He was murdered, plain and simple.’ Okeal was enraged. ‘When will the guilty of Relshaz answer for it, Archmage? We have let this offence go unpunished for too long!’

  She shot a fulminating look of accusation at both Mellitha and Velindre. The blonde magewoman instantly stood to answer.

  ‘What would you have had us do? Raze the city to rubble with hurricane winds? Summon a high tide to flood the ruins for good measure? How many innocents would you see killed alongside the guilty?’

  ‘How many more enemies would that have won us on the mainland?’ Still in her seat, Mellitha asked Okeal coldly, ‘How many more of Hadrumal’s innocents do you wish to see suffer the same undeserved fate as Kerrit? How—’

  The sharp rap of an iron-shod walking stick on the flagstones cut her short.

  Planir inclined his head. ‘Master Massial, please remain seated.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’ The venerable wizard clearly had no intention of troubling to stand. He narrowed his faded eyes as he looked at the Archmage before turning his scathing gaze on Kalion.

  ‘You have, both of you, promoted Hadrumal’s involvement with the mainland for nigh on half a generation. You, Hearth Master, have sought to ingratiate yourself with the noble born from the Tormalin Emperors down—’ he switched his attention back from Kalion to Planir ‘—while you have encouraged those unfit for the rigours of a life of scholarship in Hadrumal to insinuate their trivial wizardry into the daily lives of the humble from east to west and north to south.’

  He shook his white head in disgust. ‘Now you have an innocent mage’s blood on your hands, both of you. Yet you cannot make the guilty pay without provoking more violence. Hasn’t the time now come to acknowledge your folly and withdraw from these pointless endeavours?’ he demanded. ‘Hadrumal is the only safe haven for wizardry, as Archmage Trydek knew full well thirty generations ago.’

  ‘The mundane born have always feared us.’ A diminutive magewoman spoke up, older even than Massial and huddled in her chair, heavily cloaked against the winter’s chilly fogs wreathing Hadrumal’s towers.

  ‘They know they are our inferiors. Once they acknowledge that fact, they can only live in terror of a day when we might choose to assert our authority. They are too ignorant of magecraft to realise that no wizard worth a seat in this council would ever waste their time seeking such trivial, transitory power.’ Her reedy tones grew shrill with contempt. ‘We would be better served to have nothing more to do with the mainland beyond the most trivial transactions.’

  ‘Madam Shannet, with the sincerest respect—’ keeping his tone civil visibly cost Kalion more effort than rising to his feet ‘—it has been ignorance of wizardry which has prompted violence against the innocent mageborn in past generations. The better understanding fostered by my own endeavours, and the Archmage’s efforts,’ he acknowledged tightly, ‘has seen safe conduct to Hadrumal become accepted custom and practice for those caught unawares by their affinity’s manifestation—’

  ‘It was not ignorance of magecraft that saw Master Kerrit beaten so viciously,’ Massial retorted scornfully. ‘It was that Mandarkin renegade’s display of unbridled magecraft wielded against the Archipelagans. Fear of that has infected Relshaz. How far will that contagion spread? Wizardry will be far better served by a period of complete withdrawal to our own shores.’

  He emphasized his words with another rap of his walking stick on the floor, regarding Kalion with barely veiled disfavour. ‘These whom you have so assiduously courted have grown accustomed to wizardry serving their interests. Let them discover how they fare without such conveniences. Perhaps if storms wreck enough Relshazri ships for lack of timely warning, the Magistrates will deliver up those who murdered Kerrit to Hadrumal’s justice.’

  ‘What of those mainland mageborn left to the dubious mercies of those encouraged to fear them by rumour and falsehood, while we stay safe on our island? No.’ Kalion shook his head emphatically. ‘Wizardry will be far better served by reminding the mainland’s rulers, from the Emperor of Tormalin down, of the good which wizardry can offer them, not least to see their ships safely to Kellarin.’

  Jilseth was relieved to see that a clear majority of the Council looked inclined to side with the Hearth Master rather than with the two venerable old wizards.

  ‘I have had some other news from Col,’ Planir said thoughtfully. ‘It seems that some of Tormalin’s princes have sought introductions to Solura’s wizards.’

  ‘What?’ Kalion stared at Planir, aghast.

  Jilseth saw equal disquiet all around the chamber.

  ‘They believe they will soothe Aldabreshin outrage over the corsair island’s fate if they distance themselves from Hadrumal,’ the Archmage explained. ‘Then Tormalin’s noble houses believe that their merchants will be able to trade as usual when Archipelagan sailings resume with the spring. However, since they will still need magecraft to see their ships safely over the eastern ocean, they seek such aid from Solura.’

  ‘Then they don’t understand the Aldabreshi,’ Velindre said crisply. ‘Magic is an abomination in the Archipelago, whatever its origin.’

  ‘But by the time Tormalin’s princes discover their mistake, they will have forged ties with Soluran Orders.’ Kalion’s brow furrowed.

  ‘Solura’s wizards can have scant experience in guiding ships through ocean currents and storms,’ Rafrid assured him. ‘The eastern ocean is very different to the western coastal sea. Besides, I cannot see their Elders giving Soluran mages leave to travel so far from home, not with Mandarkin forces poised to renew their attacks. The lords to whom the Orders owe their fealty will forbid it, as will King Solquen.’

  ‘What could the Tormalin princes have to offer the Soluran Orders?’ Velindre interjected. ‘They have no magical secrets to trade.’

  ‘I cannot see the Tormalin Emperor permitting Soluran interests to secure any lasting stake in Kellarin,’ Mellitha observed.

  ‘No lasting stake perhaps, but faced with the immediate challenge of saving his noble princes’ ships from sinking?’ Sannin rose to her feet with a rustle of scarlet silk. ‘I can see Tadriol the Provident coming to some agreement with the first Soluran Order able to offer at least some assistance. Then I would imagine Tadriol, or more likely his spymaster the Sieur Den Dalderin, will invite us to offer the Empire some inducement to prevent that arrangement becoming permanent.’

  ‘You think this Council will go cap in hand to Tormalin’s Emperor, begging to use Hadrumal’s magic in his service?’ Vedral sprang to his feet, furious.

  ‘No,’ Sannin retorted, scornful, ‘but I think it highly likely that Emperor Tadriol and the Convocation of Princes will look long and hard for some way to secure their own advantage in this current crisis. We know how many noble Houses long to see Hadrumal yield to Imperial authority, just as Soluran wizards swear fealty to their liege lords.’

  ‘This Council yields to no one,’ Vedral snarled.

  ‘Indeed,’ Planir agreed. ‘So shall we steer a middle course? We can let the Tormalin princes play out their game with the Solurans while we encourage the mainland’s mages to withdraw to Hadrumal for the next season or so. That should be long enough for the mundane born, from humblest to most noble, to realise how inconvenient they would find a permanent lack of magecraft to call on. Meantime, the memory of the corsairs’ fate should remain fresh enough in their minds to curb any brutality towards the innocent mageborn.’

  ‘That would seem reasonable enough,’ Cloud Master Rafrid said cautiously.

  Massial’s snort of disdain rose to the domed vault to meet Shannet’s contemptuous cackle.


  ‘Where are these mainland mages supposed to sleep, Archmage?’ Okeal asked acidly. ‘Hiwan’s Hall is struggling to find room for our current apprentices and more mageborn wash up with every tide.’

  ‘Wellery’s Hall is similarly hard pressed,’ Herion reluctantly agreed.

  Planir nodded. ‘As are we in Trydek’s own hall.’

  Weariness hung heavily in the air as the Council Chamber fell silent.

  ‘Shall we seek assistance from our fellow wizards in Suthyfer?’ the Archmage said a moment later. ‘I can bespeak Master Usara and Master Shivvalan, to ask how many mainland mageborn might find a temporary home in their islands. Perhaps you could all consider which of your apprentices and pupils might benefit from a change of scene and fresh challenges? Some of Suthyfer’s mages might wish to come and join us in unravelling the magecrafting of these artefacts.’

  ‘Their studies have followed different paths to our own for these past few years,’ Sannin observed. ‘They may even see some new route to understanding the Mandarkin’s plunder.’

  ‘No ensorcelled artefacts should be removed to Suthyfer,’ Vedral said quickly, poised to rise to his feet once again. ‘Let their mages come here to learn what we have already tried, to save them from treading the same fruitless paths.’

  ‘Quite so,’ Sannin smiled, agreed. ‘We must safeguard such treasures. While I trust Master Usara implicitly, strangers and travellers constantly come and go in Suthyfer, crossing from Tormalin to Kellarin and back again. At very least, word of such studies among the islands’ wizards would soon reach the Sieur Den Dalderin through one of his enquiry agents.’

  Looking around the chamber, Jilseth saw that the Council was now united. Those wizards intent on studying the artefacts could hope for fresh perspectives to spur them on while those ready to abandon the quest could allow Suthyfer’s wizards to take up the challenge with a clear conscience.

  She made certain that her expression didn’t betray the least amusement as she realised how skilfully the Archmage and his allies had brought the Council to the conclusion he had wanted from the start. No wonder Planir was such an expert player of white raven.

  Even Kalion kept his peace, though he glowered darkly from his carved seat. The Hearth Master had never made any secret of his opposition to allowing those wizards who decided they were ill-suited to Hadrumal’s disciplines to set up their own haven in the mid-ocean islands.

  Then Rafrid rose to his feet, surprising everyone.

  ‘Surely Suthyfer’s mages should continue to assist any ships crossing the ocean. Those building a new life in Kellarin hardly deserve being abandoned to their fate. While we can hope that no captain would be foolhardy enough to attempt a winter crossing without a wizard on board, some will assuredly attempt the journey once the spring equinox is past. In theory it’s possible to cross the ocean without our help in favourable weather. I don’t believe it will possibly help Hadrumal’s cause if we are responsible, even indirectly, for innocents drowning for lack of our help.’

  As the assembled mages nodded, Jilseth saw more than a few were ashamed to realise that such inevitable deaths hadn’t occurred to them.

  Kalion’s expression lightened a little and he swiftly stood up. ‘Such a gesture of goodwill should make restoring good relations with the mainland’s rulers and lawmakers much easier, once they have come to fully appreciate the difficulties which they will face should wizardry withdraw to Hadrumal entirely.’

  ‘Very well, then we will remind those responsible for justice and good order across Tormalin that we still look to them to safeguard the newly discovered mageborn and see them safely to Hadrumal,’ the Archmage said sternly. ‘We will make it clear that Suthyfer’s mages’ continued assistance depends on those seeking apprenticeship here arriving safely from Lescar, Dalasor and Gidesta, Caladhria and Ensaimin. Let those who might think otherwise argue with Emperor Tadriol and Toremal’s legions.’

  Planir looked around the chamber. ‘Please indicate your accord or dissent with these proposals.’

  As the wizards sent shafts of magelight soaring upwards, the hovering sphere of radiance swiftly brightened to unanimity.

  ‘Very well, we are agreed.’ Planir gestured at the door and the magical wards enclosing the chamber melted away. The door swung open, with no sign that it was anything more than commonplace iron-bound wood.

  Ely, Galen and Canfor hurried over to join Kalion, and the four of them left, deep in conversation. Despin trailed along behind, avoiding Jilseth’s gaze.

  She stayed seated, waiting for the chamber to empty and watching Mellitha talking to Herion while Velindre accosted Rafrid. Sannin was talking to the Archmage and Okeal.

  Planir left the two magewomen to their conversation. Jilseth stood up as he approached the door.

  ‘What do you want me to do now, Archmage?’

  Planir halted, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. Jilseth was surprised to see him looking suddenly exhausted.

  ‘Do you have any notion how we might distract Emperor Tadriol and the Sieur Den Dalderin from courting Solura’s mages? I—’ Breaking off, the Archmage turned to look at Velindre and Mellitha. ‘Never mind. I think I may have an idea.’

  He looked back at Jilseth. ‘It will be a day or so before Kheda returns to Halferan with the Khusro wives. Please could you visit Col, to see if Master Olved has heard any rumour of Tormalin visitors enquiring after Soluran wizards visiting the university?’

  Now the Archmage betrayed his exasperation. ‘You might also let me know if Captain Corrain has deigned to answer Olved’s summons as yet, to tell us what he has heard around the taverns and taprooms.’

  ‘Do you want me to go and find Corrain myself?’ Jilseth offered.

  ‘No.’ Planir shook his head. ‘The noble baron needs to learn the cost of ignoring my messages.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Red Library, Col

  30th of Aft-Winter

  ‘THERE’S MASTER GAREWIN,’ Hosh stopped rubbing at the side of his face to look apprehensively at the mentor.

  Now they were finally here, Corrain was beginning to fear that the boy was having second thoughts about submitting himself to this unknown aetheric magic. In his heart of hearts, he could hardly blame Hosh for being nervous. But it was his duty to see the lad healed despite himself.

  ‘Excellent.’ He raised his own hand to acknowledge the scholar strolling towards this imposing building across another of Col’s broad squares.

  The paved expanse was similarly ringed by taverns and inns. Here awnings outside each hostelry sheltered benches and tables where breakfasting students ate griddle-seared flatbreads, pale cheeses oozing out of floury rinds and the pungent fish that was so popular here, smoked or pickled. Potboys set down jugs of small beer and well-watered wine while kitchen maids brought out stacks of fresh horn beakers and carried away abandoned plates.

  Corrain noticed several hopeful cats prowling the empty spaces dividing each tavern’s territory from its neighbours. One ginger-striped opportunist darted forward as a careless elbow knocked scraps off a table.

  The previous day Hosh had retreated to their bedchamber as soon as The Goose Hounds’ maids had it ready. Corrain had lingered in the taproom, leaning on the bar counter and chatting to the tapster whenever the man had some leisure between customers. The tapster had obliged him with a great deal of information about Col, most particularly the university’s libraries.

  Corrain had been somewhat surprised to learn that the various schools of study to which the mentors swore their allegiance had no tangible presence in the city. There were no magnificent buildings with the various disciplines’ names chiselled above a door for newly-arrived students to knock on. The mentors who made up the Schools taught their pupils in the various libraries as well as in the taverns and tisane houses. In the summer seasons, they gathered out in the open air in the city’s pleasure gardens.

  ‘Excuse me.’ A student carrying books lashed together with a plaited leather
thong hurried up the steep steps to the library door.

  Corrain turned to watch the youth set down his burden and show a student’s base-metal badge on the collar before shedding his cloak. After looking the boy up and down, the stern-faced and sword-belted door-ward gave him a grudging nod. Draping his cloak loosely around his shoulders, the youth joined the queue already lengthening by the doors.

  ‘Good day to you.’ Mentor Garewin reached them as the carillon’s song announced the second chime of the day beneath the leaden sky. ‘Larasion’s still smiling, I see? Six days without rain at this season is truly an unlooked-for blessing.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Corrain managed a polite smile, though he found the Col populace’s fascination with their weather as pointless as it was tedious. It would rain or it wouldn’t and whichever way that rune rolled, he wouldn’t thank any goddess.

  ‘They said, in the tavern this morning, that this has been the mildest Aft-Winter in half a generation.’ Hosh was rubbing at his face again, as unthinking as a man scratching a itch.

  ‘Indeed?’ Garewin drew his silvered beard to a point between fingers and thumb. ‘I must ask my acquaintances in the School of Natural Philosophy.’

  Corrain curbed an urge to demand some answers himself. How soon would Hosh see some visible improvement to his injuries?

  But Hosh was more curious about the students, men and women, young and old, waiting by the library doors. ‘Why are they searched like some assassin trying to smuggle in a dagger to kill the Tormalin Emperor?’

  Mentor Garewin smiled, amused. ‘The Prefects make certain that no student enters any of the city’s libraries with something which might damage the books and the knowledge which they contain.’