Corrain was already taking the flight of steps two at a time. Jilseth hurried after him and found the Caladhrian guardsman contemplating the ensorcelled metal veiling the Council chamber’s entrance. Before she could begin to explain its intricacies, Corrain drew his belt-knife and hammered on the barrier with the pommel.
Jilseth felt the stir of flowing wizardry. The featureless metal shaped itself into a face. Black pits in eyes of shimmering quicksilver fixed first on Corrain before looking at her.
‘How did you know to do that?’ she demanded.
The Caladhrian looked at her, exasperated. ‘All I know is that only a fool locks himself behind a door without a knocker or a bell pull.’
Jilseth watched the ensorcelled face melting away as the magical metal returned to serve as the doors’ everyday hinges and bindings. She wondered if anyone in Hadrumal, mage or mundane born, would have thought to do something so straight-forward as knocking.
The doors opened. The Council chamber was more crowded with wizards than she had ever seen it. Men and women, from those newly called to teach in Hadrumal’s halls through to the most venerable, stood three deep around the circular floor. Those with officially sanctioned seats had no choice but to stand if they wished to be seen or heard.
The last echoes of furious debate faded in the high vault. Every face turned to the door, expectant.
Planir stood on the central dais, gaunt and grey-faced with exhaustion. ‘What news from the sheltya?’
‘They will not help us, Archmage.’ Jilseth could only tell the truth.
Countless voices cried out; some despairing, some accusing. As many looked towards her and Corrain as looked towards the Archmage. As many again turned on each other to continue some interrupted argument.
Jilseth was fervently grateful that the chamber’s ancient wizardry permitted no magic. With emotions running so high, the perils of unguarded spells must be unprecedented.
‘We must sink the Jagai galleys!’
Jilseth didn’t see who shouted. Planir had. He spun around to thrust an accusing finger at the belligerent speaker. His voice was hoarse and ragged.
‘You wish to make eternal enemies of every Archipelagan? For the present, they can tell themselves we only attacked another wizard while the corsairs had already put themselves beyond all protection of Aldabreshi law with their use of magical artefacts.’
‘We can give the Solurans what they want,’ another mage shouted angrily. ‘What use are these cursed artefacts anyway? We cannot fathom their secrets and they have brought us nothing but grief.’
‘Do you think the Solurans will be satisfied with these trinkets?’ Cloud Master Rafrid roared. ‘If we prove ourselves so craven?’
Other wizards shouted out in support.
‘They will menace us until we surrender quintessential magic’s secrets.’
‘They will threaten us with whatever malice they find in those cursed artefacts!’
‘The Tormalin Emperor—’ Hearth Master Kalion began.
‘The Tormalin will make as many demands as the Solurans before they help us,’ a voice prophesied savagely. ‘We will be beholden to the Imperial Throne for generations!’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ another voice demanded, dangerously close to panic.
Planir shrugged. ‘You can leave before the mercenaries arrive. You have the magic to do so.’
‘Where should we go?’
Jilseth tried to see who had just cried out, shamefully eager to flee to some sanctioned haven.
‘Suthyfer?’ Planir looked around the crowded chamber and the competing voices fell silent.
‘There is Suthyfer,’ he repeated, reflective, ‘where we might hope those mages who survive this debacle will contemplate the lessons which we seem to have so signally failed to learn in our complacency.’
His face hardened as he surveyed the assembled mages. ‘Let us hope that Suthyfer’s mages will appreciate the need for wizardry to look towards the mainland unless they want to find themselves as friendless as we have in time of need, when our only hope of help is from those who would exploit us as mercilessly as our enemies.’
He shook his head. The silence in the great chamber was absolute.
‘If the mageborn do not prove themselves worthy of respect, how can we demand it? If the mageborn hold themselves aloof, cloaked in secrecy, the mundane remain at the mercy of the fear-filled rumours and confusion which these Soluran Artificers have so cunningly exploited.’
‘We cannot leave our hall and libraries to be looted and burned,’ a voice pleaded. ‘Such knowledge cannot be lost—’
Planir rounded on him, scathing. ‘Let us hope that Suthyfer’s mages are wise enough to see how the blinkered pursuit of knowledge to the exclusion of all else can leave wizardry fatally ill-prepared to deal with the low cunning of those, mageborn or mundane, who look on their power with greedy eyes or simple ill-will.’
The Archmage laughed harshly and without humour.
‘At least we can be confident that Suthyfer’s mages won’t be so foolish and so arrogant as to discount Artifice merely because they cannot themselves understand it. One lesson we have assuredly learned from the Solurans is how powerful such co-operation can be. It’s a shame such realisation comes so late for Hadrumal. Perhaps we would have found some other way out of this maze if we hadn’t been so riven by our divisions, so focused on our individual ambitions.’
Planir’s condemnation prompted murmurs of protest and abasement in equal measure. Then Troanna’s voice rose above the uncomfortable shuffling, wholly unchastened.
‘Perhaps we wouldn’t find ourselves so hopelessly stymied if you had acted sooner, Archmage.’
The crowd rippled and parted to reveal the Flood Mistress.
‘If I had acted sooner?’ Planir queried acidly. ‘When this Council has proved wholly unable to reach any consensus over what action to take? When a seat in this chamber only seems to confer the right to criticise and to condemn whatever I might do without ever shouldering some share in the weight of responsibility which I bear as Archmage. When a mage actually chooses to take his, or her, seat in our debates,’ he added bitterly.
‘Enough!’
Corrain’s bellow deafened Jilseth. Astonishment silenced the roomful of wizards.
‘You have magic to take yourselves away to safety.’ The Caladhrian glowered at the assembled mages. ‘Who among you will use your spells to save the ordinary folk who keep you living so comfortably; cooking your meals and washing your linen and raising this island’s beasts and crops?’
Jilseth saw a good number of indignant faces about to protest. It was some comfort to see that a good sprinkling of her peers had looked beyond their own immediate concerns. Though far too many mages clearly realised that they hadn’t given Hadrumal’s humble folk any thought until now.
‘I reminded those who wish to leave that they have the magic to do so. I said nothing of my own intentions. I will be staying,’ Planir assured Corrain.
The Archmage turned swiftly enough to rebuke the whispered incredulity behind him. ‘If you think that I only cultivate acquaintances among the halls’ servants and along the high road’s vendors for the sake of garnering gossip, that shows more of your own character than it does of mine. My friends among the island’s non-mageborn know they can rely on me.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Cullam said mildly.
Jilseth spun around so fast that she would have fallen over but for Corrain’s swiftly outthrust arm. Standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, the old man smiled affably at her.
‘After long and hard-fought argument I have convinced my fellow sheltya to allow for some possibility of doubt as to overweening wizardly arrogance.’ As he surveyed the crowded room his face wrinkled with disappointment. ‘Though I see there is only a little doubt.’
‘Have you come to offer some help?’ Corrain demanded.
‘Single-minded as ever, I see,’ The old man smiled again. ‘A virt
ue we prize highly in the mountains, most particularly when a traveller refuses to abandon a stricken companion, however long and hard the journey. Though we have also seen the disasters already provoked by your defiant determination. Wondering what you might try next gives some of us considerable cause for contemplation.’
While Jilseth was trying to work out what that meant, the old sheltya looked at Planir, his faded eyes cold.
‘We will not save you from the consequences of your own follies. We have seen sufficient proof that you brought this disaster down upon your own heads. However we will not allow true magic, which you call Artifice, to be abused in the base pursuit of Soluran wizardly ambition. Moreover we have no desire to see your perilous sorcery threaten our people’s peace and that will assuredly happen with renewed warfare between Solura and Mandarkin. Most especially if such strife is bolstered by these spellcrafted devices shared out amongst those greedy for the elemental powers which nature has denied them.’
As he looked at Hadrumal’s assembled mages, his head shook. Jilseth wondered if that was a further expression of disappointment or merely a tremor of his palsy.
‘We will discipline those in the Houses of Sanctuary who are so shamefully betraying their learning and their vows to their brothers and sisters.’
‘How?’ a belligerent voice shouted. Jilseth would have sworn it was Despin even if she couldn’t pick him out in the crowd.
‘We remove all their knowledge of true lore since they have proved so unworthy of wielding it,’ Cullam replied mildly, though Jilseth was close enough to see his eyes were merciless. ‘It will be for their elders in lore to decide if they should be told what they have lost and further, if they should be allowed to study to regain such learning and skills.’
Jilseth remembered Aritane’s vacant gaze and had to force herself not to shiver. Fortunately everyone’s attention was fixed on Cullam as the old sheltya continued.
‘We will similarly wipe away all unearned and unsought knowledge of this island from the minds of those sailing towards you. While we respect the Sea Peoples’ wish to have no dealings with magic, we believe that our higher duty is to right this particular wrong. As for the hired swords and those ashore who are now so suspicious of your sorcery, we will stifle the enchantment spreading and sustaining such malice. Thereafter it is for you to regain their respect and trust.’
This time he definitely shook his head before addressing Planir with an unmistakable air of farewell. ‘Good day to you, Archmage.’
‘Wait! What about the Soluran mages?’ Once again, Jilseth couldn’t see who had called out in the crowded chamber.
Cullam looked straight at whoever it had been. ‘You wish us to wipe all knowledge of wizardry from your enemies’ minds? Why should we favour one side in this quarrel not of our making which so threatens our people’s peace? What have you done to deserve such assistance?’
Jilseth saw the crowd of wizards shuffling as those around the speaker retreated from Cullam’s penetrating gaze. She was right; it was Despin.
The old sheltya paused, reflective. ‘There are those among us who would see the wizardly knowledge which enables your attacks expunged from both sides. I have argued against such drastic action since elemental affinities will remain, inborn as such talents are. Innocents will surely suffer if the mageborn among them no longer have the learning to contain and control their magic.’
He looked at Planir. ‘Nevertheless, if you are unable to resolve your quarrels with the Soluran Orders, know that we will not permit elemental warfare to ravage our mountains even if that means unleashing unrestrained magic among the lowlanders.’
As the assembled wizards stared, aghast, Despin broke the silence, sneering. ‘So you say.’
Cullam raised his white brows in mild surprise. ‘You truly require such proof?’
Despin collapsed to the floor, senseless. Every wizard within arm’s length of the obnoxious mage fought to retreat as far as they could.
‘What—’ Jilseth looked back at Cullam only to see the old man had vanished.
‘Archmage?’ Someone begged Planir for answers.
The Archmage contemplated Despin lying in a graceless sprawl.
‘If anyone else doubts Artifice’s power in the hands of such advanced adepts, bespeak Usara in Suthyfer. Guinalle Tor Priminale and Temar D’Alsennin can bear witness to its influence in the Old Empire. Talk to those who knew Cloud Master Otrick and ask them what they remember of his last days and his death after aetheric magic tore his wits to pieces.’
Planir’s glare challenged Hearth Master Kalion and Flood Mistress Troanna, who both nodded slowly. Apprehension around the room visibly increased.
The Archmage clapped his hands, startling everyone. ‘Go to your halls and work with your most practised nexus. Troanna and Rafrid, instruct your most trusted and powerful pupils to usher the Jagai galleys to some safe harbour. Everyone else, devote your efforts to repairing our island’s defences. Otherwise I fear we’ll see Solura’s wizards arriving in person to steal what they can’t force us to surrender. Let’s hope we can succeed before the Mountain adepts decide that their own safety requires our obliteration.’
Jilseth retreated from the doorway as the Council members and other mages hurried from the chamber. Watching Planir on the dais, shoulders sagging and his bearded chin on his chest, she feared that the Archmage’s weariness now verged on despair.
He was the last to leave. She stepped forward
‘What should I do, Archmage?’Jilseth asked urgently. ‘None of the mages I’m used to working a nexus with are here.’
Planir rubbed a shaking hand over his face. ‘You had better come with me.’
Corrain had pressed himself against the opposite wall to allow the anxious wizards to pass. He nodded at Despin, still lying unconscious on the stone floor. ‘What about him?’
Planir gestured and the doors closed, sealing themselves with ensorcelled metal. ‘He can stay there. Trydek’s magic will save him from hurting himself or anyone else when he wakes. If he wakes.’
The Archmage headed down the stairs without looking back. Jilseth and Corrain followed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Trydek’s Tower, Hadrumal
14th of For-Spring
THEIR PATH BACK to Planir’s refuge was crowded with clamouring mages, pupils and apprentices of all rank. Thankfully everyone stepped aside for the Archmage. Jilseth found herself running to keep pace as she followed in his wake. It was scant consolation to hear Corrain out of breath at her shoulder.
Most of the throng shouted frantic, gabbled questions at the Archmage. A few yelled Jilseth’s name. She had no answers for them. One mage she didn’t recognise stepped into her path, enraged at being ignored. He reached for her arm, ready to shake a response out of her. Corrain shoved the unknown wizard backwards to stumble and fall over someone’s feet.
‘Thank you,’ she yelled gratefully.
Planir cut through an alleyway back to the quadrangle below his tower. Once again, he ignored the wizards milling around the entrance until one voice rose above the hubbub.
‘Archmage!’ It was Sannin, with Canfor at her shoulder. Galen was sheltering Ely from the jostling crowd.
‘Upstairs.’ Planir jerked his head and the tower door opened. As they hurried inside, no other wizards dared enter without the Archmage’s invitation.
The door slammed behind Galen. The only sound in the stairwell was harsh breathing as they walked up to the empty sitting room. Planir entered and the shutters opened themselves, admitting the noise from outside. The Archmage scowled and the racket was muted.
‘We need an earth mage for our nexus,’ Sannin explained. ‘Galen—’
Planir waved that away. ‘Jilseth?’
‘Of course.’ She looked at the burly wizard and was appalled at the misery on his broad face.
Sannin snapped her fingers to reclaim her attention. ‘Follow my lead.’
Before Jilseth could reply she felt w
armth spread through her, from head to toe, as Sannin’s fire affinity bonded to her own earth magic. Now she could feel the lingering glow of those ancient fires which had first moulded Hadrumal’s rocks.
At Sannin’s nod, she turned to look at Ely and felt the fire magewoman curb her own affinity, so antagonistic to water, to allow the innate sympathy of earth to unite with Ely’s magic. Jilseth felt the surge of the waters around the island, smoothing reefs and headlands and shaping the drifting sands.
In the instant their three elements were united, Sannin’s affinity surged towards Canfor, claiming fire’s ready union with elemental air. Jilseth felt the invisible abrasive power of the wind scouring at the stones of the ancient tower.
In the next moment, she felt the scintillating brilliance of quintessential magic. Jilseth resisted the temptation to take command of the nexus. A sapphire shiver though the magic suggested that Canfor was similarly restraining himself.
‘We will not permit the Solurans to come here uninvited.’ Sannin was adamant.
She swept their quintessential magic outwards from the tower. As Jilseth stood in the sitting room, looking at the other three mages, her wizard senses soared across the island. They yielded to Sannin’s lead as the magecraft cut through the air like an arrow, swift and sure. Hadrumal’s magical mists lay ahead; not merely a visible barrier to unnerve sailors but a warding where elemental water blended with fire to confine and confound translocation worked by anyone other than an island mage.
Even with her earth affinity, Jilseth could see that the warding hung frayed and thin. Her mage senses showed her antagonistic spells attacking each individual element within the ancient wizardry. Soluran fire sought to sear away the moisture endlessly drawn up from Hadrumal’s seas to replenish the warding, while Soluran water as cold as mountain snows swirled and circled to drain away all warmth.
More than that, she felt a stealthier magic woven from the earth, loading the mist with rocky fragments finer than dust. As droplets formed and coalesced, the malicious burden weighed more and more heavily on the already frail air element of the warding.
Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 47
