Zurenne had been pondering this for some days now, concerned that Halferan would draw jealous Caladhrian eyes if the barony became the only apparent conduit for renewed trade with the Archipelago. She had no more wish for such scrutiny and the parliamentary debate which would surely follow, than she did for Imperial Tormalin attention.
Kheda nodded slowly. ‘Miris Esul might be persuaded to consider dealing with a Caladhrian baron of proven good character. He would have grave doubts about involving any of his wives in such perilous matters. Were he to lead, other warlords might well follow.’
‘Then would you go with Reven and a company of Halferan guardsmen, to take letters to these lords, asking if they would be willing to receive envoys from the Archipelago?’
Zurenne had already been considering how best to phrase such letters; allowing these noble lords to believe that they were doing Halferan a favour while hinting plainly at the benefits which their baronies would accrue from taking the lead in restoration of trade with the southern islands.
She would be happy to see these lords profit. Halferan owed Licanin more than she could possibly repay, and Antathele had proved an unexpectedly loyal ally while Lord Tallat deserved some recompense for being an unwitting pawn in Corrain and the Archmage’s schemes.
Would Yadres Den Dalderin get wind of this? Zurenne could only hope so. Surely he must be an efficient spy if he was serving the Emperor’s chief intelligencer.
‘Then will you carry word to these warlords,’ she asked Kheda, ‘offering to help rid them of lurking magic?’
She didn’t imagine Den Dalderin would follow Kheda into the Archipelago but that didn’t matter as long as the Tormalin spy was occupied dogging his trail around Caladhria until Corrain returned to Halferan and whatever he had been doing for the Archmage could be concealed behind some further veil of half-truth and misdirection.
‘I would be willing to do all this and more in hopes of ending this hostility.’ Kheda pursed his lips. ‘Have you discussed your scheme with Madam Jilseth?’
The magewoman? Zurenne hadn’t seen her since her brief visit a handful of days ago, and they had barely exchanged ten words. Jilseth had come to tell Kheda that another Aldabreshin domain was threatening the wizard isle, incredible though that might seem. She had asked if he had any means to send messages or receive replies from any other domains beyond Khusro. Kheda had said that he would exchange courier doves with the Khusro wives, to inform them and see what he could learn, but there was little more that he could do. Jilseth had left in a seething fury which Zurenne had found profoundly unnerving.
‘I will tell the Archmage himself this very afternoon,’ Zurenne said resolutely.
‘Very well.’ Kheda went to open his travelling bag.
He took out an Aldabreshin compass, no larger than the palm of his hand. The round brass base was engraved with arcing lines and mysterious symbols, overlaid with a further intricate plate pierced and shaped into interlocking circles and arcs studded with tiny gems.
‘The Ruby will stand in the arc of wealth at the start of the new year and beyond, offering forty days of its influence to counter the Emerald in the arc of death.’ Kheda pushed the brass bar revolving around the central pivot with a thoughtful finger. ‘Let me consider which will be the most auspicious days for these warlords to send their envoys to the noble barons, and when the heavens would be most favourable for them to submit their treasures for scrutiny once they have arrived on the mainland.’
‘Let me know by the end of the day and I will advise our allies accordingly in my letters.’ Zurenne’s spirits rose, emboldened by Kheda’s ready co-operation. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to my people and their celebrations.’
She went down the stairs to the guardroom and opened the door. ‘Captain Kusint, tell Reven to pick a troop and make ready to travel tomorrow—’
Zurenne halted on the threshold, surprised to see Ilysh and Hosh sat at the table. Kusint stood between them, contemplating a spread of runes. She realised that those bones were laid out for some Forest foretelling, not merely cast in a game of chance.
‘What did the Tormalin spy want?’ Ilysh asked quickly. ‘What were you talking to Master Kheda about?’
‘We can discuss that in due course.’ Zurenne had already realised that she would have to include Ilysh in her plans. Letters to Licanin, Antathele and Tallat would have to go out under the barony’s seal and over the acknowledged Lady Halferan’s signature.
Well, since she commanded the yeomanry and tenantry’s true loyalty, Ilysh would need to learn far more of the intricacies of life than more sheltered Caladhrian noble maidens.
So much for the future. Zurenne had more immediate concerns. ‘What are you doing?’
Ilysh bit her lip. ‘Hosh has been telling us what Corrain is doing.’
As the young man looked at Zurenne, she was struck anew by the marvel of his healed face. Then she saw the depth of apprehension in his eyes.
‘The captain has gone north to find the sheltya, those who use aetheric magic in the mountains,’ Hosh explained. ‘The Archmage hopes that they will have some Artifice to counter the Soluran adepts who threaten Hadrumal.’
‘Soluran adepts?’ Zurenne didn’t understand. ‘I thought it was some other Aldabreshi who were plotting against the wizard isle?’
Hosh looked guiltily at her. ‘The captain helped to uncover a Soluran conspiracy while we were in Col.’
‘I see.’ Zurenne found that didn’t come as a surprise particularly; any more than the news that Corrain was now somehow hip-deep in whatever had followed. If ripples of unease had reached as far as Tormalin to stir the Imperial spymaster to send out his minions, why shouldn’t the consequences of the corsair island’s destruction have reached beyond the Great Forest?
‘I asked Kusint to see if the runes offered any guidance as to whether or not he will succeed,’ Ilysh explained.
‘Do you see any such indication?’ Zurenne looked at the Forest youth.
He shook his head slowly. ‘Forgive me but I cannot tell.’
‘May I sit?’ Zurenne took the empty chair as Hosh scrambled to his feet. Since Ilysh seemed perfectly capable of keeping herself informed, she might as well follow her daughter’s lead.
‘You had better tell me what’s happened in Col, most particularly what has convinced Baron Corrain to make such a journey. When did the Archmage last have word from him? Is he travelling with Madam Jilseth or some other mage?’
Hosh looked even more anxious. ‘He’s with a Mountain woman. She used to be one of these sheltya but she was exiled. She still has her Artifice though. But Madam Jilseth says that she cannot find the captain through her scrying and none of the adepts in Col can make the Mountain woman hear them.’
He gazed at the rune bones lying mute and motionless on the table. ‘That’s why I hoped Kusint might have some way of telling us how he’s faring.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Upper White River, Northern Ensaimin
4th of For-Spring
‘HOW MUCH FURTHER have we got to go? You said that these sheltya were bound to meet us if we travelled north of Wrede. That was ten days ago.’
Corrain knew he sounded accusing and he didn’t care. He was more exhausted than he wished to admit even to himself. Every successive day tramping through these woodlands had proved that Halferan’s baron was nowhere near as fit as a guard captain should be.
They had paused in Wrede where this river swelled the famous lake only to purchase the bare minimum of gear and provisions to sustain them in the wilds. Initially Corrain had been relieved, as they left the smallholdings in the lower valley behind, to see that Aritane’s early life in these mountains had taught her the skills for such arduous travel.
Now even this light pack dragged heavily on his shoulders and relentlessly sapped his strength. That wasn’t the worst of it. Walking these endless leagues uphill had given Corrain far too much time to brood on the wisdom or folly of this
journey. With every passing morning he was more inclined to fear that their quest would prove a waste of time and effort which could have been far more usefully spent elsewhere.
More than that, Corrain knew full well that Jagai’s galleys would be arriving in Col’s harbour any tide today or tomorrow.
‘Have you used your Artifice to tell the Col adepts where we are? Have they told you what’s happening in the city? Do you know what the Archmage is doing in Hadrumal?’
He asked these same questions time and again, always to no avail. Aritane only spoke to him to address practicalities as they established their camp each evening or made ready to resume their journey with each sunrise.
Corrain had had more than enough. He halted on the narrow path worn by deer or whatever other game scuttled through this pine forest at night hoping to escape the wolves which he had heard calling by the cold light of the waxing lesser moon. Corrain had been careful to walk a good distance from any camp before he skinned and gutted the upland pheasants which he had fetched down with the fowling bow he’d bought in Wrede. Finding that particular skill hadn’t deserted him was some small consolation.
Aritane continued walking with the same unhurried, unceasing strides. Corrain refused to be drawn after her.
‘How much further are you going?’ he shouted, feet planted firmly on the frosted mud. ‘Until you freeze to death up there?’
The Gidestan mountains loomed ahead, shrugging off their cloak of evergreens to reach twice and three times higher than these foothills which he and Aritane had travelled through thus far. Corrain had seen the high ground between Caladhrian and Lescar on his visits to Duryea in Lord Halferan’s guard. He had considered the mighty crags and lofty precipices impressive. Now those hillocks looked as meagre as the Halferan mill pond compared to Wrede’s great lake.
The peaks soared upwards, impossibly tall and brutally sheer. They looked so sharp-edged against the pale spring skies that Corrain could believe their ridges were no wider than a knife blade. He didn’t imagine he’d ever see for himself. Surely not even the hardiest and most agile of rats could scale those barren heights, still less survive up there.
The dark rocky slopes were shadowed by lethal screes and capped with blinding white snowfields. Rumpled scars marked the course of the avalanches which they had witnessed in the past few days. Such snowfalls filled the empty air with the sound of thunder and blurred the distant peaks with clouds of smothering white.
There was still plenty of snow here at lower levels, whatever Caladhrian almanacs might say of the year turning towards spring. The river remained frozen though Corrain could hear the water rushing beneath. Breaking through it to fill his drinking cup was easy enough to convince him that trusting his own weight to the ice would be folly.
‘Why won’t you use your Artifice to call out to them?’ he yelled after Aritane.
There could be no doubt of her proficiency with aetheric magic. She had carried the two of them to an empty pasture overlooking Wrede as easily as any wizard could have done. More easily? Corrain had no way to judge but he had been struck by how different it had been, compared to being carried over these impossible distances by elemental magic.
As soon as Aritane’s hand touched his own, back in that room in Col’s Prefecture, Artifice had wrapped him in what seemed like sudden sleep. Opening his eyes, Corrain had found himself on that grassy slope with absolutely no idea how he had got there. For a moment he honestly believed that he had slipped into some dream. Then Aritane had spoken and recollection had rushed back.
And now he was going no further without answers. Most of all he wanted to know if these Mountain Artificers would really help them. This long walk had given him ample opportunity for second thoughts about that.
‘Kusint, a man of the Forest Folk, tells me that the sheltya oppose the wizards and adepts who serve Mandarkin’s tyrants, if they try to outflank the Solurans by cutting through the high mountain passes,’ he yelled after Aritane. ‘If your people are the Solurans’ allies, can we really hope that they will help us?’
Ahead, the Mountain woman finally stopped walking. After a further long moment, she turned around and put back the hood of her heavy grey cape. Buying that had been her only concession to the cold of these heights.
The draper in that Wrede warehouse had certainly regarded Aritane with awe verging on fear. At the time, that encounter had encouraged Corrain to hope that these mysterious sheltya might truly have enchantments to equal and to complement Hadrumal’s wizardry. But that had been ten days ago.
Aritane looked down the slope at Corrain. ‘The sheltya are no one’s allies. They defend these mountains and their people against any incomers intent on bloodshed.’
Corrain felt a chill which had nothing to do with the lingering frost. ‘But these Solurans are threatening Hadrumal and that’s six hundred or more leagues away.’
‘The sheltya are also opposed to any who would use magic to rule over others, be that through wizardry or Artifice. The Solurans are seeking to increase the influence and use of magic among the kingdom’s nobility through these ensorcelled items.’
‘So the sheltya will want to put a stop to that?’
As Corrain sought confirmation Aritane only shrugged.
‘I said that I hoped they would hear us if we came here. I made no promises that they would help.’
That wasn’t nearly enough to convince Corrain to continue on this path. He needed to know for certain if these sheltya were going to prove worthwhile allies.
‘If we are to foil this Soluran plot, we have to find these sheltya before the day is out. Otherwise you can take me back to Col and we’ll devise some other plan with Hadrumal’s wizards.’
Aritane shook her head. ‘Hadrumal’s wizards cannot counter Soluran Artifice without sheltya help.’
‘Then use your own Artifice to let them know we need their help,’ he cried, exasperated.
‘I cannot use my true magic here. I have been exiled from these hills on pain of death or worse,’ Aritane replied calmly.
‘What did you do?’ Corrain wondered uneasily what sentence could be worse than death.
‘I betrayed my sheltya vows.’ There was a forbidding edge to her tone.
‘What were those vows?’ Corrain wasn’t going to be deterred now that he had finally got her talking.
Aritane stood silent for long enough to convince him she wasn’t going to answer. He even took a step forward, only for her to speak, even if it wasn’t to answer his question.
‘My brother sought my help in saving our people’s hills and valleys from lowlanders who believe that land without walls or fences or some signed and sealed deed of ownership can simply be seized by any who might wish to. He sought to save his wife’s family from dispossession and beggary by raising an army to drive the lowlanders back. Events did not unfold as he had hoped.’ Aritane surprised Corrain with a chilly smile. ‘I believe that you know how that feels.’
‘Have you been searching my thoughts?’ he demanded
She tucked a wisp of blonde hair back into her thick plait. ‘Planir told me.’
Corrain reminded himself that the Archmage trusted this woman. The calculating wizard must believe she could deliver some help from these sheltya. Surely he wouldn’t have allowed them to make this journey knowing it would be in vain?
On the other hand, if this brother of hers had failed to save his wife’s holding from invaders, that didn’t say much for Aritane’s Artifice. If she had escaped punishment for her misdeeds, whatever those might be, it didn’t say much for the sheltya magic pursuing her.
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t say that my brother failed. Merely that events took an unforeseen course, most particularly for him and also for me.’
‘Now you are reading my mind.’ Corrain scowled.
‘If you wish me to answer your questions, I need to fully understand them.’ Aritane was unrepentant. ‘As far as the sheltya are concerned, my brother’s crime was not in de
fending his family’s rights to wealth to be won from the forests and mines where they hunt and dig but in convincing me to use my Artifice to help him. My crime was agreeing and worse, persuading others sworn to the grey to do the same. The blood of those who died is on my head and hands.’
Corrain didn’t need any arcane enchantments to see the guilt darkening her eyes.
‘Sheltya can have no family other than those sworn to the grey once they have vowed to serve. They can have no loyalty to any particular valley otherwise they cannot be impartial when judging the disputes which arise and the crimes that are committed among the Mountain Men. Sheltya judgement could not be respected if there was any doubt of their neutrality in all respects. When the gravest crimes are judged, sheltya must be able to impose the penalties which blood guilt demands. They could not use such Artifice on men and women whom they still considered their kinsfolk.’
Aritane’s faint smile told Corrain that she had just used her Artifice to see how unwilling he was to ask her what those crimes and penalties might be.
‘How much further should we go on,’ he asked instead, ‘before we give up hope? The Jagai galleys—’
‘The Archipelagans are still two days’ hard rowing from Col. We do not expect them to arrive before the dawn tide three mornings hence.’
It wasn’t Aritane who answered him.
‘Talagrin’s hairy arse!’ Corrain reached for his sword. A Mountain Man clad in grey had appeared between them; tall for his race though not as stocky as most of the blond men Corrain had encountered over the years.
He appeared to be unarmed but that meant nothing if he was one of these sheltya. Equally, if he was a Mountain enchanter, Corrain’s blade would be as much use as a loaf of bread in a sword fight. He unclenched his fingers from the wire-wrapped hilt.
Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 41
