Black Coven (Daniel Black Book 2)

by E. William Brown

  She smiled at my expression. “I knew you’d need to look your best for this. We can’t have anyone thinking you’re just a hedge wizard, right?”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Avilla,” I told her. “What about you and Cerise?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see. Maybe you should make yourself a staff while we dress? I’ve heard these wizard’s meetings are all about who has the most impressive one.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe I will. If people think I actually need one, it will give me an advantage when the inevitable assassination attempt happens.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t talk like that.”

  I spent a few minutes experimenting with that while the girls dressed, a process that took a while even with Avilla’s household magic to help. I wasn’t much of an artist, and conjuring gems or precious metals wasn’t really feasible. Finally I hit on the idea of fusing different materials together. I conjured up a dark red and black granite, and joined it with transparent crystal in a spiral like a barber pole. Polish the surface, cap it with a big red crystal, and I had something fairly impressive looking. A little gaudy, but from what I’d seen that was in style here. I laid an enchantment over it whose only purpose was to look like something complicated covered by an imperfect concealment spell. Not bad.

  “Looking good, Daniel,” Cerise said from behind me. I turned around, and had to control the urge to gape.

  Cerise was dressed all in black, but the resemblance to my own outfit ended there. Hers was all leather, and tight enough to make me wonder how she’d gotten into it. A leather miniskirt that barely came down to mid-thigh. A tight leather top that bared her arms and emphasized the curve of her breasts, but failed to reach her skirt by a couple of inches. Black boots with a bit of heel, and leather gloves that left her clawed fingertips bare. Her silver knives were sheathed on a pair of belts at her waist, and a snug black collar bearing my lightning bolt was fitted around her neck. She smiled and did a little spin, revealing that the skirt had a hole in the back for her tail. The long length of whipcord muscle waved about behind her, completely unconcealed.

  In contrast, Avilla wore a red dress of what just might be silk. It was long enough to hide her knees, but any pretense of modesty was ruined by the way it molded like a second skin against her generous curves. Low boots and long gloves embroidered with lightning bolts completed the ensemble, and a ruby pendant on a gold chain gleamed at her throat. A voluminous black-furred cloak of felwolf pelt hung from her shoulders, long enough to almost touch the floor.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  “You like?” Cerise grinned, and slipped an arm around Avilla’s waist. “Check it out, it’s the sexy sorceress and her badass bitch. I tried to talk her into showing off some cleavage, but my honeydew can be shy.”

  Avilla rolled her eyes. “If I wore what you suggested I’d freeze to death before we were halfway there. The rest of us can’t just ignore the cold like you can.”

  “Spoilsport. Ready to put on a show, Daniel?”

  I nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  We took a transport to the Iron Citadel, which gave me a chance to put warmth enchantments on our new cloaks while Gronir drove. He and Daria were acting as my honor guard again tonight, while a couple of his men had come along to watch the transport while we were inside.

  The Citadel bustled with activity despite the relatively late hour, and there were a lot more guards in evidence than the last time I’d been here. But we had no trouble getting in, and a servant was already waiting to escort us to our place.

  The Conclave’s weekly meetings were held in a large round chamber somewhere in the maze-like lower reaches of the Citadel. The walls and floor were iron, and iron beams rose high overhead to support a domed ceiling set with skylights. A spherical iron cage filled with fire hung from the middle of the ceiling, providing light to the room.

  The middle of the floor was filled with a large oval table, with twenty or so seats arranged along its sides. To either side were rows of raised benches, like a miniature amphitheater. A small throne on a dais sat at the far end of the room, overlooking the head of the oval table.

  Our guide sent Gronir and Daria to stand with the other guards around the perimeter of the chamber, and then led us to a row of benches where a number of people were already gathered. I spotted Carl on the other side of the room, with Mara sitting next to him. He nodded to me, and leaned over to say something to his companion.

  “Ooh, nice,” Cerise commented. “She’s looking extra sexy tonight. Tasty.”

  Mara was wearing makeup, and her hair shone with a fiery glow that had to be some kind of cosmetic magic. But that was apparently normal here.

  Most of the throng that filled the room were men, wearing fine robes and carrying ornate staves that each tried fiercely to outdo the others. The scattering of women wore a bewildering variety of revealing dresses, and adorned themselves with the most eye-catching magic they could manage. Half the accessories in the room glowed, or flamed, or otherwise announced their magical nature.

  “You could say that about most of the room,” I pointed out. “Is there some secret rule that all women who have magic have to be good looking?”

  Avilla giggled. “Trust me, master. If you were a woman with magical talents, that’s one of the first things you’d research. Anything that improves your health will make a noticeable difference. Then there’s glamour, cosmetic spells, alchemical dyes and about a million other tricks.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be wondering how you know so much about this?”

  Cerise leaned into my other side. “She’s naturally perfect, master. But I had to work for it.”

  “I see. Well, I like your work.”

  The seats at the central table were filling up by then, so I guessed there probably wasn’t time to chat with Carl before the meeting started. But as the crowd of lesser personages hurried to their seats my eyes fell on one figure who didn’t seem to fit. A tall, gangly girl with limp brown hair and a painfully homely face, wearing a simple linen dress that seemed cut to hide as much of her appearance as possible. The parts of her I could see were mostly covered with bandages, and the few patches of bare skin were marred by ugly silver-grey blotches.

  “Any idea who that is?” I asked.

  Avilla shrugged. Cerise frowned at her for a moment, and then glanced back at Carl.

  “I think that’s the healer girl,” she answered. “What was her name? Elin?”

  “Oh! That’s right,” Avilla agreed. “Carl mentioned that. Apparently the monster that almost got her was some kind of exotic golem made of liquid metal, and the stuff infected her when it was broken. That must be what those spots are.”

  “That’s also why no one wants to sit next to her,” Cerise added. “Mara says she can barely keep herself alive with her healing magic, and some of the wizards are afraid the curse might be contagious.”

  “Ouch. Sounds like I should take a look at her at some point.”

  “Or you could stay away from her, and not get yourself cursed on top of everything else,” Avilla suggested.

  The meeting started then, so I didn’t get a chance to reply.

  Interestingly enough, no one sat in the throne. The seating arrangements were clearly based on rank, with High Adept Steelbinder and a couple of other guys in especially fancy robes at one end of the table and the rest filled with lesser personages. The benches seemed to be for junior mages, high-ranking retainers and visitors, which told me something about Carl and Mara’s standings around here. But there were an ominous number of empty seats around the table.

  I’d half-expected a gathering of wizards to be some dazzling affair full of magic and mystery, and the spectral figure that materialized at the foot of the throne and called the meeting to order certainly supported that idea. But as it began methodically calling on members to stand and deliver various updates I realized the truth. People are people, whether they have magic or not, and
this was basically a status meeting.

  Apparently there was a fixed order of business at these meetings, and the weekly reports of the Conclave’s department heads were the first order of business. So I got to sit and listen to various adepts drone on about supplies of magical materials (decent) and provisions (enough for a 3-year siege), the readiness of the Red Guard (poor but improving), golem maintenance and half a dozen other less interesting topics for the better part of an hour.

  I tried to stay awake, and learn what I could. The names of the department heads could be important, and their reports offered some insight into how the Conclave was organized. Apparently running a department was considered a mid-level job, since the heads were all men in their thirties or forties but none of them were High Adepts. I gathered that there was some kind of executive council for the big shots, but major decisions often required a vote of the full assembly to ratify. There were a couple of those during the status reports, over various minor-seeming policy adjustments. But I got the impression those were a formality, since there was no debate and the votes were generally unanimous.

  Then the reports were finished, and the floor was opened to new business. The High Adepts exchanged looks, and then the oldest man at the table slowly stood.

  “The chair recognizes High Adept Elias Ward,” the shadowy form at the foot of the empty throne intoned.

  His robes were as fine as any in the room, and his staff was an intricate construction of metal and crystal bearing a dizzying array of enchantments. But only a few thin wisps of hair were left on his head, and his features were shriveled with age. He leaned heavily on his staff as he stood, and took a moment to gather himself before speaking.

  “I have completed my investigation of the attack on the weather-working,” he announced. A stir went through the chamber, momentarily drowning out his thin, reedy voice. He waited for it to subside before continuing.

  “As we all know, the guardian golems of the upper spire failed to activate when the circle was attacked. Initially we thought they had been sabotaged somehow, or that the attack was simply hidden from them by illusion. But my assistants and I have exhaustively analyzed the enchantments on the guardians, and in each case they were deactivated with the proper words of command less than an hour before the attack. There can be only one conclusion.”

  “Gentlemen, there is a traitor among us.”

  Chapter 9

  Ward’s announcement caused a considerable stir, but again the room quieted quickly. He nodded gravely, and went on.

  “The doors to the upper spire were unlocked by someone who had access to the proper key, and the guardians were commanded into inaction. The human guards outside the door to the ritual chamber raised no alarm before they were attacked, and the sergeant of the watch had opened his log book in preparation for recording a visit. Clearly they recognized whoever approached their position, and expected no trouble.”

  “They were then killed before they could realize the golems were inactive, and call for help. The actual attack was carried out by a large magical beast of considerable power, but the details of the damage do not fit any creature on record. It had the strength to rend chain mail like cloth, fiery breath hot enough to melt iron, and some means of defense against enchanted swords. Our colleagues in the bestiary have determined that it was a quadruped with red fur, likely twice the weight of a heavy warhorse, with a narrow mouth and the teeth of a carnivore. Based on the magical residues it seems likely the creature had been transformed into a more innocent shape and was released to attack the guards.”

  “More puzzling, however, is the condition of the chamber door. High Adept Thunderbolt was leading the weather circle in a difficult performance that day, and had ordered the chamber doors locked and sealed until they were finished. When the ritual was interrupted the resulting backlash did considerable damage to the room, and at first we thought the doors had simply been smashed open. But on closer examination I find that the locking enchantments are simply shattered, in a fashion I have never seen before. The iron bolts that should have held the doors shut were found in the open position, but all the other protective enchantments were intact. I have no good explanation for how the doors were opened.”

  There was another commotion. I took advantage of the interruption to stand.

  “I believe I can shed some light on that,” I announced over the din.

  The old man turned to study me for a moment, and nodded once.

  “The chair recognizes Wandering Adept Daniel Black,” the shadow announced.

  I took a deep breath, and tried to pretend I was back in debate club as dozens of faces turned towards me. No pressure.

  “As some of you have probably heard, I encountered one of Jormungandr’s grandsons on my recent expedition to clear a path to the sea for our shipping. He knew my name and expected to find me there, which is more evidence that our enemies have an agent in Kozalin. But he also claimed that Loki and Gaea have a daughter. A demigoddess they call the Unraveler, for her power to open locks and shatter bindings. Raised in secret until she was old enough to free her father, and venture into Tartarus to release the monsters imprisoned there. Now she’s in Kozalin with a band of monsters at her back, on a mission to sunder the Bifrost Veil and open the way to Asgard.”

  “Obviously I can’t confirm any of this, but if it’s true it would explain what happened to those wards.”

  “Are we supposed to believe some monster?” One of the adepts near the foot of the table scoffed.

  “What were you doing talking to it?” Another one shouted. “Are you in league with them?”

  I raised the stump of my missing arm. “Our conversation didn’t stay polite for long. He was trying to convince me to leave Kozalin instead of aiding in its defense, and when I refused he tried to kill me.”

  As I’d hoped, my injury served to derail any suggestions that I might be working with Loki’s forces. Although I found it interesting that no one seemed to seriously doubt my claim to have fought a sea serpent and survived. Either I had more of a reputation than I’d thought, or their battle mages got a lot more powerful than Carl.

  There was a long debate in the wake of Ward’s revelation, although as a non-member I didn’t take much part in it. The general consensus seemed to be that the ‘Unraveler’ business was probably true, since the gods wouldn’t let someone get away with lying about being their child. But she was unlikely to be working alone.

  “A spark of divine power would quickly be revealed by our wards,” Steelbinder pointed out. “So she isn’t likely to risk exposing herself more than necessary. But we all know how Loki collects hidden cults of human supporters. No doubt she has an agent here who helped her infiltrate the Citadel, and there may be more in the city. We certainly haven’t had time to screen the refugees.”

  After some discussion a proposal was raised to have Ward continue his investigation, in hopes of identifying the spy. It passed almost unanimously, but he cautioned against expecting instant results.

  “Any agent canny enough to arrange the attack on the weather circle is not going to give himself away with foolish mistakes. I can clear some of our members of suspicion quickly, but working through the rest will be a slow process. In the meantime, I suggest that we take more active measures to reduce the chance of another attack.”

  Steelbinder nodded. “Yes. We can start by re-keying the golems, and keep the new control words a more guarded secret.”

  “What about the obvious suspects?” Someone suggested.

  “Yes, we can’t have anyone questionable wandering about in sensitive areas at a time like this,” another agreed. “We should lock down the inner citadel.”

  “Why stop there? Send those Russian mercenaries back where they came from!”

  “The faeries too!”

  That opened the floodgates, and for the next half hour I was treated to a rather disgusting spectacle of mindless intolerance. The Conclave had all sorts of allies and associates across Europe, many
of whom had taken refuge here when Fimbulwinter began. But humans are naturally xenophobic, and with no clear culprit to punish for the attack the Conclave’s rank and file wanted a scapegoat to lash out at.

  The High Adepts seemed to have a more nuanced view of the situation, and managed to stop things from turning into a complete witch hunt. But they had to give the crowd something. The final vote was to tighten security around sensitive parts of the Citadel, restrict the entry of the Conclave’s human allies, and banish all nonhumans from the Citadel for the duration of the emergency.

  “What about Elin?” One of the department heads asked. “Don’t we still have that agreement with the Summer Court?”

  The girl flinched, and shrank into her seat.

  “Yes,” Steelbinder answered. “We’re obligated to care for her until she turns thirty, barring a few narrow escape clauses that seem unlikely to arise. She’s made it this long without eating anyone, so she’s hardly likely to start now. But the agreement doesn’t say we have to quarter her in the Citadel. I know the inns are all full, but I’m sure we can find someplace to put her. Grendelkin are sturdy creatures, so I suspect even a stable would do. Isn’t that right, Elin?”

  She hung her head. “Yes, sir. But I’ll die if I can’t focus my magic on fighting this curse.”

  Her voice was meek enough, but I could see her knuckles were white where they gripped the iron bench. I frowned. It really wasn’t my problem. I had enough things to worry about.

  “Small loss,” someone grumbled behind me. “Not like she can heal anymore.”

  I stood. “I can take her in.”

  Steelbinder turned an astonished look my way. “Why would you wish to do that? You do know what she is, Adept Black?”