Jilseth stiffened, realising Aritane was looking straight at her.
The Mountain woman spoke, her upland accents stark in this gathering. ‘Madam Mage, Guinalle tells me that you used your necromancy to see this dead Soluran meeting with a handful of wizards and two other adepts. May we see them for ourselves through your memories of your spell?’
Her gesture took in the other adepts in the room who at least looked as startled as Jilseth felt. She baulked, regardless.
‘Surely Lady Guinalle can share her own recollections.’ Jilseth had no wish to repeat the experience of Micaran’s Artifice deceiving her wizard senses in Planir’s study. That had been bad enough and she had been safe in Hadrumal, only facing one adept.
Guinalle shook her head with sincere regret. ‘I was concentrating entirely on trying to work my own Artifice through your spell. That will blur and distort any attempt to share my memories.’
‘I can tell you what I have learned—’ Jilseth began.
‘Forgive me,’ Master Garewin apologised, ‘but you cannot know which details might tell us something of particular significance. It would be far better if we could see this meeting for ourselves, albeit through your eyes.’
‘Even if we were to ask you for every detail, that risks inadvertently overlooking something vital,’ Undil added, ‘something we won’t recognise until we see it.’
‘We must know which Houses of Sanctuary these adepts are sworn to,’ Usara urged Jilseth.
Guinalle nodded. ‘Then we can use our own Artifice to find out if these Soluran Orders are merely working with a few men and women who’ve turned traitor to their vows or if this corruption has polluted the entire House.’
‘Or if it stems from their teachers,’ Aritane said coldly. ‘Fish rot from the head.’
Planir would want to know precisely these things. Jilseth had no doubt of that, however fervently she might wish to deny it.
‘How—’
Aritane reached across the table and took firm hold of her hand.
Jilseth didn’t find herself in that peaceful library she had dreamed of more than once since Micaran had first shown it to her. Instead she was in the very chamber where the Soluran wizards and adepts were meeting. It was as though she had stepped into the vision summoned by her own necromancy. But this was undoubtedly Artifice. As before, Jilseth could not feel the least hint of any element through her wizard senses.
Once again, she had to fight the compulsion to search, panic-stricken, for some reassuring reality. Instead she forced herself to concentrate on what she could see before her, as if her eyes and ears weren’t deceiving her in this repellent manner.
She and the Mountain woman were not alone. Guinalle stood over by the window and the four Col mentors were huddled by the resolutely barred door.
The five wizards and the three Soluran adepts were seated around the table, though they were not talking as they had been in Jilseth’s necromantic vision. Each one sat unmoving, though not with their faces and hands at rest as though someone had called their meeting to order before plotting further treachery. Each one was frozen in mid-gesture or with unguarded expressions on their faces, as if momentarily startled by some loud noise outside this room.
‘This is truly remarkable.’ Master Garewin looked around, astonished.
‘This is sheltya Artifice,’ Aritane said without emotion. ‘Used to search a witness’s recollections when some crime has been committed or grave accusations are made.’
Was she accused or suspected of some offence? Jilseth wanted an explanation if not an outright apology for the woman inflicting such precipitate enchantment on her. She had been about to ask how Aritane proposed to proceed. She hadn’t agreed to anything. But when she attempted to speak, Jilseth found that she couldn’t even open her mouth.
‘Do the sheltya pay any particular heed to Soluran Artifice?’ Mentor Undil asked hesitantly. ‘Might they be able to tell us more of these particular Houses?’
‘They keep watch over any adepts who encroach on the uplands,’ Aritane replied. ‘If these are Houses in any of Solura’s northern border provinces, the sheltya may well know of them and their concerns.’
‘How can we see such every detail so clearly?’ Mentor Lusken was peering at the amulets hung around each of the seated adept’s necks. All three of them wore different patterns of interlinked and concentric circles.
‘You will have to ask Madam Jilseth to explain the secrets of her necromancy.’ Guinalle came to look as well. ‘Do any of you recognise these particular devices?’
Jilseth tried to take a step forward so that she could commit them to her own memory. She couldn’t move her foot.
‘Do we know where this room is?’ Mentor Parovil advanced cautiously to one of the four windows, as though his silent footsteps might somehow rouse the motionless wizards and adepts. ‘Does Madam Jilseth?’
Why were they speaking as though she wasn’t even there? Jilseth looked down. She could see her hands, her skirts, even the toes of her boots as clear as day.
‘Surely this is a tower.’ Madam Undil studied the curving masonry and the exposed rafters supporting the floorboards of the room above. ‘But is it in one of these wizardly Orders’ retreats or part of some Soluran noble’s castle?’
Jilseth’s fury choked her. She could tell them precisely where they were if this cursed Artifice wasn’t gagging her. Not that she had her affinity to thank for that knowledge, severed as she was from elemental sensation. She had spent the afternoon wringing all the information she could from the Soluran adept’s corpse before consigning it to the deepest and coldest cellar beneath the Terrene Hall to await Planir’s decision on its fate.
She had seen the Soluran adept arrive along the road skirting the edge of farmland as Megrilar province’s northern forests thinned towards the border with Astrad to the east. This tower was at the heart of the Order of Detich’s compound; a daunting fortification in its own right.
‘If this conspiracy extends to any of Solura’s nobles, matters become considerably more grave.’ Mentor Garewin’s expression was as dour as his words.
‘This is the Detich wizards’ tower.’ Aritane looked directly at Jilseth. ‘The necromancy worked since this spell has not shown the Soluran adept meeting with any nobleman or woman, at least not with anyone who could be known to hold such a rank from their clothing or their manner.’
So the Mountain woman could assuredly see her standing here, imprisoned within her own necromantic vision. Worse, Jilseth realised with a chill that would have been a shudder if she could have moved a single muscle, Aritane was reading her thoughts as each question the Col mentors asked prompted Jilseth’s memory of the information which the Soluran corpse had yielded.
She stared back at the Mountain woman. Now it was Aritane’s turn to be disappointed by the meagre return on Jilseth’s endeavours. Without knowing the man’s purpose, seeing where the Soluran had gone was of limited value.
Memory of the irritation and frustration which Jilseth had felt shifted into fierce anger at now finding herself so invisible, so wholly ignored, entirely subject to this Mountain woman’s Artifice. Jilseth glared at Aritane. Let this arrogant adept read the depth of her outrage if she dared.
‘Have we seen enough?’ Garewin had drawn closer to the table to contemplate the thin-faced woman with a cream surcoat over her brown robe.
Guinalle raised a silent hand. She was intent on surveying the fifth wizard from head to toe.
Jilseth found herself wondering if the Tormalin adept was contemplating some Artifice. Was Guinalle somehow working in harness with Usara’s wizardry beyond the confines of this enchantment? She strained to feel some touch of his earth affinity to no avail. Jilseth strove to quell the gnawing, irrational fear that she would never feel any element again.
In the next instant the tower room disappeared and they were safely within the Prefecture once more.
Jilseth snatched her hand out of Aritane’s grasp. She shoved her
chair backwards, rising to her feet. Even with the table between them, she couldn’t bear to be so close to the Mountain woman.
‘How dare you?’ Though inconvenient relief blunted her fury. At least she could now speak and be heard. At least she could feel the elements around her.
Aritane gazed at her, unrepentant. ‘It was of the utmost importance that we saw your memories before you had any chance to twist what you recalled. I don’t say you would have done so deliberately but remembrance is a fragile thing easily warped by hopes or fears. We could not risk you unwittingly changing some detail.’
Guinalle looked at Aritane, making no attempt to conceal her displeasure. ‘I have taught you gentler methods of learning unsuspected truths from willing witnesses.’
‘Forgive me.’ Aritane didn’t sound in the least contrite and worse still, as far as Jilseth was concerned, her half-hearted apology was solely for Guinalle. ‘The sheltya will demand that any evidence I lay before them passes the measure of their own Artifice. They will accept no other.’
‘The sheltya?’ Usara asked carefully.
‘They do not concern themselves with lowland affairs.’ Aritane looked around the table to address everyone in the room. ‘However, it is evident that their attention has been drawn to this alliance between Soluran wizardry and the Artifice which is now turned against Hadrumal. I do not know where their interests lie but they sent this man from Wrede to make enquiries on their behalf.’
‘Do you think that they will object to the abuses of Artifice which we have uncovered?’ Guinalle asked with ill-concealed hope. ‘Will they help us unravel these malicious enchantments?’
‘If we don’t have to worry about some aetheric assault, Hadrumal’s wizards can withstand anything these Soluran Orders might hope to threaten us with,’ Jilseth assured everyone. With or without Planir’s help if he was still so absorbed in reading through Kerrit’s archive. She hastily crushed that disloyal thought.
Aritane continued as though the magewoman hadn’t spoken. ‘I do not know what the sheltya will do but I am willing to lay all this before them, to add to whatever they have learned from the man from Wrede. I am willing to do this to repay the debts which I owe to Suthyfer. But I will not risk my life and sanity by encroaching on sheltya business without invitation.’
‘How do you propose to let them know that you want such an invitation?’ Corrain demanded.
‘I will approach the valleys north of Wrede where my people still live untroubled on foot and as a suppliant. The sheltya will know I am there so they may greet me as they see fit.’ She shrugged. ‘Or not. I offer no guarantees.’
‘Then to take such a risk—’ Guinalle protested.
‘It is my risk to take.’ Aritane looked at her. ‘I do not only owe debts to Suthyfer.’
‘You can take her to the mountains today.’ Corrain looked hopefully at Usara and Jilseth. ‘Through your wizardry?’
Aritane shook her blonde head. ‘I cannot arrive unsummoned within the sheltya’s purview by such means.’
Jilseth was sorry to hear that. Seeing Aritane’s icy composure cracked by the nausea which had wracked Micaran would be some recompense for the distress the Mountain woman’s Artifice had inflicted.
‘Then there’s nothing more to be said.’ Corrain shook his head, aggravated. ‘You could not walk from here to Wrede in less than fifty days, never mind venture further north into the mountains. These Jagai ships will attack Hadrumal in less than half that time.’
‘You should learn to listen and make fewer assumptions,’ Aritane said coldly. ‘I will not travel north through elemental magic but I can use my own Artifice to carry me to Wrede.’
‘You can?’ Lusken gaped, astonished.
Aritane ignored him and the other dumbfounded Col adepts, still addressing Corrain. ‘If the sheltya are willing to receive me, I will know within a few days.’
‘By the turn of For-Spring.’ Corrain considered this. ‘The Jagai galleys won’t arrive until a handful of days after that and then they have to load men and stores before heading southwards.’
‘Could the sheltya help put an end to Jagai’s madness before those galleys weigh anchor?’ Garewin asked tentatively.
‘I cannot say.’ Now Aritane looked around the room. ‘Nor can I say what will happen to me if I am called to account for my offences. One of you will need to come with me, to return with news of their decisions.’
‘I will,’ Guinalle said instantly. ‘I can tell the sheltya the good which you’ve done in Suthyfer—’
‘I need no such witness.’ Aritane shook her head, perfectly calm. ‘Sheltya will learn everything which I have done through their own Artifice. Besides, you are needed here. There can be no hope of devising enchantments to counter the Solurans’ malice without your skills.’
She looked at the Col adepts. Jilseth saw their expressions betray uneasy knowledge that the Mountain woman was right. She also saw the unguarded relief on Usara’s face. He definitely didn’t want his wife venturing into the mountains to face these unknown adepts. Then she realised that Aritane was looking straight at Corrain.
‘Me? Why me? No.’ He shook his head before Aritane could answer. ‘I must return home. My responsibilities are there—as soon as Hosh’s face is mended.’ He shot a guilty look of apology at the disfigured boy before challenging Mentor Garewin. ‘You will keep your promises to the lad, even amid all this?’
‘Of course—’
The Mentor would have continued but Aritane addressed Corrain, as implacable as before.
‘You started this.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mentor Garewin demanded.
‘Baron Halferan cannot be held accountable,’ Usara said firmly. ‘He could have had no notion that the corsairs would be so reckless to try using the ensorcelled artefacts which they had plundered, in hopes of retaliating against the wizardry which they discovered defending the Caladhrian coast.’
Jilseth didn’t need any Artifice to see that the Suthyfer mage was as determined as Planir to stop these Col scholars learning the full story of Anskal’s arrival in the Archipelago. Did Aritane know the truth? The Mountain woman’s face was unreadable.
‘He is still the best placed to bear witness to all that has happened.’
‘I can go.’ Hosh spoke up, surprising everyone. ‘I was on the corsair island longer than anyone and the baron is right. His place is back in Halferan.’
Jilseth steeled herself to speak. ‘That is true.’
She had no wish to see Hosh sent on such an uncertain journey after the sufferings he had endured but she remembered Planir’s reasons for sending Corrain to the Solurans the year before. Their adepts could only learn what the Caladhrian knew. They could not steal the secrets of quintessential magic as they might from a wizardly envoy. But if the sheltya searched Corrain’s memories, they would learn the whole sorry story of his misadventures and their unforeseen consequences.
Aritane shook her head. ‘I will not go without Baron Corrain.’
‘That might be for the best. You can use your skills at least as usefully here.’ Jilseth was also wondering apprehensively what these mysterious sheltya might learn from Aritane to Hadrumal’s discredit. What would they make of the way in which Suthyfer had obtained the Khusro artefacts? Of Usara and Guinalle using wizardry alongside the Artifice which these Mountain adepts reputedly guarded so jealously?
‘I’m sure we can discover these Soluran adepts’ Houses without sending Baron Halferan three hundred leagues north.’ Jilseth found a handful of silver pennies in her pocket and she tossed them onto the table.
The devices stamped by Col’s mint shimmered and blurred to leave blank discs rimmed with amber magelight. Jilseth concentrated and the metal flowed as though it was fresh from a silversmith’s crucible.
The corpse had worn an amulet of five overlapping circles; two placed edge to edge north and south, with two more crossways on top, to east and west. The last circled the amulet’s centre, overlayin
g the other rings.
The black-bearded man’s device had a central circle surrounded by eight smaller ones, all framed within a larger ring. The unknown woman had worn ten concentric rings joined by a single vertical bar.
‘These are their devices.’ Jilseth contemplated her handiwork with satisfaction. ‘Cast as many copies as you need from these exemplars. Send them far and wide and someone is sure to recognise at least one.’
‘How long will that take? How soon before our enemies hear that someone in Col is asking after them?’ Corrain contemplated the silver amulets before looking at Aritane. ‘If these sheltya hold you to account, can you promise some Artifice will send me back here before the Jagai ships arrive?’
‘I cannot promise but I give you my oath that I will do all in my power to achieve it.’ She looked steadily back at him.
‘I have travelled in the mountains’ southern fringes,’ Usara said suddenly. ‘I can use my wizardry to retrieve you, if needs be.’
‘I can guide you to a place he knows through my own Artifice,’ Guinalle added.
Jilseth wished furiously for aetheric magic of her own, to speak unheard to Usara, to tell him to stop furthering this plan, surely so detrimental to Hadrumal’s interests.
Corrain crossed his arms and looked across the table at Aritane. ‘I’ll give you ten days. I want your oath that you’ll see me back here after that.’
The Mountain woman said something in her own tongue. Jilseth assumed it was just such an oath until Aritane and Corrain both vanished from their seats.
The Col adepts stared in open-mouthed astonishment, though Jilseth noted that Guinalle showed no such surprise. Did she have similar enchantments to call on?
‘Let us hope we soon get word from them with information that helps us.’ Usara clapped his hands to command everyone’s attention. ‘Meantime, we can’t put our feet up by our firesides. ‘Madam Mentor, Masters—’ he looked to the four Col scholars ‘—please do whatever you can to devise enchantments to counter the malicious Artifice at work in your city.’
Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 39
