Shadow and Flame

by Gail Z. Martin

  “I’m curious,” Blaine said as the servants brought the next course. “What have you heard from Vellanaj and Tarrant in the Lesser Kingdoms?”

  Rikard reached for his wineglass, and Blaine noticed that the mage fluttered his fingers oddly as they closed around the stem. Blaine could sense the push and pull of probing magics, advancing and retreating in a silent test of wills. Iston regarded Rikard with a thinly veiled glare. The warring magic continued, the invisible equivalent of Rikard tugging the power one way and Iston pulling it back in his direction.

  “The destruction there was nearly complete,” Heldin replied, earning himself a pointed glance from Vishal. “There’s nothing to be gained by hiding it,” he chided his companion. “It’s the truth. The waterfront was still a row of burned-out buildings. It looked deserted, except for some wretched stragglers,” he said. “We didn’t try to land. There appeared to be no point.”

  Blaine nodded, appreciating the candor. “We’ve had some problems with raiders from the Western Plains,” he replied, reciprocating the truthfulness. “We’ve struck a solid alliance with them, and the Plainsmen are now part of Donderath’s fighting force.”

  “What do you know about pirates?” Kestel asked, as if the idea had just popped into her head. Jacoben’s gaze slid to the side. Iston’s expression went blank, and Heldin looked as if he would have liked to be elsewhere. Only Vishal met her gaze, unfazed.

  “I’m not sure I take your meaning, m’lady,” Vishal replied. “We encountered no problems on our journey to Donderath.”

  “That’s certainly good to hear,” Kestel replied with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d had a problem back home, with pirates attacking your coast.”

  “Has that been an issue here?” Jacoben asked.

  “Desperate times tend to embolden thieves of all sort,” Blaine replied. “There have been a few incidents, quickly put down. We were just wondering if the same sort of thing was happening to your kingdom.”

  Dillon’s servers brought out the third and fourth courses, a hot clear broth with vegetables and roasted game hens. Blaine was sure the eight chickens now on the serving platter had been running around the palace grounds earlier that day. The hens were stuffed with diced apples and dried fruits in a bread mixture, a sumptuous presentation of otherwise modest ingredients. Once again, he made a mental note to commend Dillon on his ingenuity.

  “King Edelton has very little patience for miscreants,” Heldin replied. “His measures are sterner than those of the late king, whom Edelton has said was too generous in his clemency.”

  Translation: Edelton is heavy-handed, maybe despotic, and no one had better get out of line, Blaine thought.

  “What of Edgeland?” Vishal asked as if he had not been paying particular attention. “Donderath had a prison and a colony in the far north. What’s become of them since the Great Fire? I assume you have connections there still.” Another barb, and a reminder that the ‘diplomats’ knew of Blaine’s convict past. Do they also know about Kestel’s reputation as a spy and assassin, and Piran’s somewhat legendary military exploits? Blaine wondered.

  “Velant no longer functions as a prison,” Blaine replied, declining to add how he knew. “It closed right after the Great Fire. Edgeland is still a colony of Donderath, and Donderath still lays claim to Edgeland and its waters.” Let’s just put that out there on the table, Blaine thought. Because I’m sure it’s what Vishal is really asking.

  “I might have assumed the former convicts would have relished a chance to come home,” Heldin said. “Since King Merrill is dead.”

  “They didn’t want to come back,” Piran replied with the same calculated offhandedness. “Some people just like the cold.” He shrugged. “Actually, without Velant, Edgeland isn’t so bad. The colonists have made their peace with it, and the colony is self-sufficient. And very Donderan,” he added pointedly.

  “Do you expect to restore trade with Edgeland?” Jacoben asked. “I wouldn’t think rubies have the same demand as they did when there was a nobility and a court.”

  Fishing for information again, Blaine thought. “We promised the colonists that we would protect them and do everything we could to help them. Those are our friends up there. I mean to make good on that promise, and I take a personal interest in their welfare.” He met Vishal’s gaze directly, making his point clear.

  “We might be interested in establishing a trade route to Edgeland, when everything is more settled,” Heldin said. “With the permission of the Donderan government, of course,” he added. “As my colleague noted, rubies are not as highly regarded these days as herring might be, since the Devastation affected our fishing waters.”

  Hmm, Blaine thought. That’s one effect I hadn’t heard about causing a problem for our folks. I’ll have to make sure Folville asks the fishermen what they’re finding. “That’s certainly a possibility,” he replied. “And Edgeland is always interested in trade when it involves tools, seed, food that will keep, livestock—that sort of thing. We’ll be sending more ships of our own in that direction once the surplus is available.”

  They had finished their course, and Dillon cleared his throat at an appropriate lull in the conversation. “There is hot fet and desserts in the parlor,” he announced, “as well as brandy. This way, please.”

  Blaine gave Kestel his arm and they led the way, with Piran and Rikard behind them. The four diplomats filed after them, Heldin in the lead, and Iston brought up the rear, followed by two more of Blaine’s guards. Blaine recognized mages Nemus and Leiv among the servants. Blaine led them into the castle parlor, a room where King Merrill would have hosted smaller gatherings, where the scale was less grand and more intimate.

  A small fire burned in the fireplace to take away the chill. Quillarth Castle always seemed cold, as did Glenreith, thanks to the thick stone walls and drafty windows. Dillon and his staff must have gathered all of the best remaining furniture for the parlor, along with paintings, vases, and small statues. Carpets graced the floor, with only a few scorch marks to attest to what they had survived. The two guards remained outside as the doors to the parlor closed.

  “You’re fortunate that so many of your treasures survived your Great Fire,” Heldin said, looking around at the well-appointed room. “Our main palace was almost completely destroyed.”

  A table of desserts was laid out for them, and once again, Dillon had risen above constraints to provide a spread that looked more lavish than its humble components. Tarts made from the last of the winter apples and dried currants sat next to a warm bread pudding, brandied pears, and syllabub. A decanter of brandy with goblets was set out on a side table, and pots of fet and hot wassail steamed on the hearth.

  “Our compliments to your cook,” Jacoben said, eyeing the treats. “Your hospitality has made it possible to almost forget that the entire unpleasantness ever occurred.”

  On rare occasions, Blaine was able to indulge a moment’s fantasy like that, a fleeting self-delusion that all was as it should be, as it had been. Those momentary fantasies were bittersweet, cherished nonetheless. Jacoben’s comment, together with the hunger in his eyes, once again made Blaine wonder whether the Cataclysm had fallen even harder on the Cross-Sea Kingdoms than on Donderath.

  The desserts were as delicious as they looked, and when everyone had eaten their fill and had a glass of brandy or a cup of wassail or fet, Blaine led them to the couches near the banked fire. The velvet and brocade upholstered furniture was worn but still serviceable, giving the room the feel of inherited heirlooms rather than scavenged finery.

  “I’m not sure whether such things drew your attention in the old days,” Heldin said, “but the Cross-Sea Kingdoms had an embassy in Castle Reach for many, many years under King Merrill and his forbears. Regrettably, there has been no communication from our embassy since the Great Fire, and as we confirmed when our ship landed, the building was destroyed, the ambassadors presumed dead.”

  Heldin leaned forward. “With your permission, we
would like to reestablish an embassy in Castle Reach,” he said, meeting Blaine’s gaze. “It would be a first step toward reopening trade. We might even be able to assist with the supply of specialized tradesmen and artisans as Donderath rebuilds, should you find some skills to be in short supply.”

  Blaine weighed the request carefully. On one hand, it was inevitable that the nearby kingdoms would want to open their embassies once more, if for no other purpose than to serve as a haven for their spies. Trade, when there was surplus to spare, would go a long way toward improving Donderath’s lot, and there were nonessentials that nearly everyone in Donderath enjoyed that had become unavailable since the Cataclysm, luxuries that would be pleasant to have once more.

  Yet Castle Reach was far from safe or even fully secure. Despite Folville’s support, Blaine’s army was stretched thin. And though Niklas and Folville had been developing their network of informants, Kestel had told him that it was still much less useful than the spies King Merrill had in his heyday. Which meant there were an insufficient number of observers to make certain that the ambassadors were not causing trouble.

  “I appreciate your offer,” Blaine said. “But we’re not recovered to the point where I could assure the safety of your diplomats,” he said. “I wouldn’t want us to reopen relations, only to see them harmed by an unfortunate incident.”

  “May I be frank?” Heldin said. Blaine nodded. “King Edelton is not a patient man. We came at his behest, with the intent that we reopen diplomatic ties and that one Cross-Sea Kingdoms ambassador and his staff—that’s me—would remain here in an official capacity.”

  “And you hesitate to return without accomplishing your mission?” Kestel asked. Heldin looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

  “The new king does not tolerate failure,” Heldin replied. “I fear that, if we were to return under those conditions, our careers would be at an end.”

  Careers? Blaine thought. Or lives?

  Jacoben watched closely to see how Blaine would respond. Vishal’s attention was on Heldin, his brows slightly furrowed as if he was not entirely happy with the direction of the conversation. Iston seemed to be daydreaming, with a faraway look in his eyes. Rikard also had a slightly unfocused glaze. Blaine’s sense that magic was in play grew stronger.

  I’d bet money that Rikard and Iston are having some kind of subtle duel. What’s at stake? Is Iston trying to influence me? Plant intentions? Rummage through my thoughts? The deflection amulet was probably causing Iston heartburn, if he meant to use magic to sway Blaine. As if she was on the same line of thinking, Kestel rose to pour herself another cup of wassail and returned to sit near Iston with a smile.

  “I see your cup is empty,” she said in her best hostess manner. “May I get more for you?”

  Iston came out of his daydream with a jolt, and Blaine wondered if Kestel’s null-magic charm had interrupted Iston with unpleasant suddenness. Rikard’s lips turned up in a slight smile, as if he had won a point. “No thank you, m’lady,” Iston managed, somewhat distractedly. “I’m fine.” Satisfied, Rikard crossed his arms and leaned back. Kestel remained where she was, sipping her wassail and returning her attention to the conversation.

  “We wouldn’t be expecting an impressive building,” Heldin added. “Anything with a good roof will do. It just needs to be habitable, or nearly so. We understand how things have been. This would be a beginning, a place to start. As conditions improve, quarters can always be upgraded.”

  “And we are empowered to open trade immediately,” Vishal said. “As a gesture of goodwill, we’ve brought several crates of goods to offer, as well as the gifts your steward was kind enough to present for us.” He nodded toward a table on the other side of the parlor, where several unusual items sat on display.

  “If we may, perhaps now is a good time to offer the goodwill tokens we have brought,” Jacoben supplied.

  Blaine and Kestel hung back, letting Rikard move ahead of them. Blaine doubted that the gifts were set apart like they were by accident. Dillon had seen the dangers of magical objects firsthand; he was unlikely to take chances. Blaine resisted a smile when he noticed a thin line of salt that encircled the sitting area but did not include the table of gifts, protecting those within the circle. His own heightened abilities warned him that the items had been touched by dangerous magic.

  “How beautiful,” Kestel said, making sure to stand well inside the salt circle. Four items sat on the table. A lacquered and lavishly decorated small chest was the kind of piece often seen in royal homes before the Cataclysm, done in a style of art Blaine recognized as being unique to the Cross-Sea Kingdoms. Next to it was a silver vase of excellent craftsmanship, and beside that was a delicate lace tablecloth. The fourth gift was a large sapphire in a silver necklace setting. All of the gifts were of enormous value, and each represented items for which the Cross-Sea Kingdoms were renowned. Despite the beauty of the offerings, none of Blaine’s party made a move toward the table.

  “M’lord McFadden,” Heldin said. “I would like to present each of you with the gift especially chosen for you.” He moved toward the table, but Rikard blocked his path.

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Rikard said with a polite but firm smile. The other two mages disguised as servants moved up to stand beside him.

  Heldin bristled. “And why not?” he demanded.

  Rikard was unruffled by the ambassador’s indignation. “At least one—maybe more—of the items has been tainted by dark magic. It would be unsafe to handle them.”

  “Now see here,” Jacoben retorted. “We carried those items personally. They’ve never been out of our sight. It’s not possible for someone to have tampered with them without our knowing it.”

  Rikard ignored Jacoben and looked directly at Iston. “Unless one of your people did the tampering, with or without your knowledge,” he said evenly.

  “Lord McFadden, I must protest!” Vishal said angrily. “This is an affront to the ambassador and to the Cross-Sea Kingdoms.”

  Rikard took the bluster in stride. “I don’t think you’re surprised,” he replied. “Since throughout dinner and afterward, I’ve had to counterspell the magical attacks by your mage,” he said, pointedly looking at Iston.

  Vishal had been standing slightly behind Kestel. He had a piece of thin cord pulled tight around her throat before Blaine or Piran could move toward him. Iston lobbed a strike of pure blue-white energy that crackled like fire from his outstretched hand, aimed for Rikard’s chest. Jacoben faced Blaine and Piran with a wicked-looking knife that had appeared in his hand. Heldin bleated out a choked cry and dropped to the floor, covering his head with his hands.

  “We tried to do this peacefully, but you leave us no choice,” Vishal said. “The Cross-Sea Kingdoms intends to lay claim to these lands, and we’ll do it with or without your assistance.”

  Everything happened at once.

  Kestel drove her elbow back into Vishal’s gut as she brought her hard-soled shoe down with force on his instep. At the same time, she grabbed his wrist with one hand and used momentum to simultaneously pull his hand free of her throat while throwing him over her back as she suddenly bent over and leaned forward. Vishal went rolling onto the floor, only to find Kestel astride him with a knife against his windpipe, drawing a thin line of blood.

  Rikard countered the energy strike with something that looked like the ripples in a pool, hanging in midair. The rippled air absorbed the strike, then vanished as Rikard made a grasping motion with his upturned palm, violently closing his fingers into a fist. Iston grabbed for his groin with a cry of pain as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Rikard brought both hands together as if around an invisible neck, and Iston gasped for air, his eyes wide, and stopped struggling.

  Jacoben lunged at Blaine. Blaine blocked with his own knife, drawn from inside his frock coat, and Piran dove forward, sinking his blade deep into Jacoben’s chest. The assistant ambassador’s mouth opened and closed mutely as he sank to his knees, clutching
his chest, and fell forward.

  “I had nothing to do with it, I swear!” Heldin yelped from where he was curled into a ball on the floor. “This was all Vishal’s doing! Please don’t kill me!”

  “Guards!” Blaine shouted, and the doors swung open as four soldiers ran into the room, quickly followed by several more dressed as serving staff.

  “They attacked,” Blaine said. “One of them’s dead. That one is a mage,” he said, pointing at Iston.

  “I’ll handle him,” Rikard said, walking over to the moaning man and making a gesture over his head. Iston suddenly went limp and his eyes rolled back in his head. “He won’t wake up until I wake him,” Rikard said. “Still, a good idea to bind him, strip him, sprinkle him with salt, and gag him.”

  “Do it,” Blaine ordered as two guards stepped up warily to take Iston away.

  “I’d better go with them,” Rikard said. “Just in case. I’ve put a warding over the tainted gifts, and I’ll send a couple of my mages back to collect them. In the meantime, Nemus and Leiv will stand watch over them. Don’t touch them, and you should be fine.” Blaine nodded his assent.

  “I guess you’ll want me to wait before I kill him,” Kestel said pleasantly, still pinning Vishal to the floor with her knife against his throat. The cord Vishal had tried to use to strangle Kestel hung loose around her neck.

  “I’d like to interrogate him first,” Blaine said. “Then we can decide how he dies.”

  Kestel gave an exaggerated sigh. “Very well,” she said, moving out of the way as two more guards came up to bind Vishal and drag him to his feet. “But if I’ve got a bruise on my throat, I’ll be most put out.”

  “What about him?” Piran asked, pointing to where Heldin remained kneeling with his face against the floor, hands clasped behind his neck.

  “Please don’t kill me! I didn’t want to do it. They made me do it,” Heldin begged.