“No,” Altrun conceded at last.
“Then the chances are that you can no more defend against it than I can. What chance there is lies in all three of you staying together and combining your powers to fight it. You three are needed here and I’m not.” Tevi knew she would win that point. Easy to convince someone of something they already believed. “While I am gone, Captain Altrun will be in command.” That was the final ploy. Altrun’s eyes lit up. “If you don’t hear from me in three days, it will be up to him to decide what to do next. Any other questions?”
Of course, there were none.
Tevi left them and made haste to pack her belongings. Most of what she needed for the journey to Lyremouth was with Jemeryl, but it was up to her to bring a second horse. She could claim she needed it for change of mount, and as security should one go lame.
The sun was now rising higher in the sky. Tevi spared it a glance, estimating the time. Another few minutes should see her on the road and well on schedule to reach Jemeryl before dusk.
A shout claimed her attention. “Captain Tevirik.”
“What is it?”
“Captain Altrun wishes to speak with you, ma’am. He’s in the command tent.”
Tevi tossed her bag aside and returned to the tent at the centre of the site. All three witches were waiting for her.
“Has something happened?” Tevi asked as she ducked through the opening.
“The message orb, ma’am. It’s not yet fully functional, but it seems to be returning to life.”
Tevi swore under her breath. If they received countermanding orders, she would have to delay her departure. How long would it be before she had the chance to sneak away? Why could the thing not have waited another hour before stirring? Small consolation that Altrun looked just as displeased as herself.
The orb’s silken wrapper was spread open on a table. Unlike the lifeless pearl surface of the previous night, mist swirled deep within. She did not need the gift of magic to tell that the orb was interacting with something. One of the lieutenants was waving her hand over it, sculpting its energies to her bidding. This was the part that Tevi, ungifted, could not do, although she could speak via it, once a witch had coerced it into life.
The lieutenant spoke. “The harmonic ether is responding, ma’am. Another globe has bound to its resonance. I heard the summons. Commander Ranenok wishes to speak with the four of us.”
Tevi braced herself to look into the orb. Island born and bred, she had never suffered from seasickness, but the sensation she got when peering into the orbs gave her sympathy with those who did. For a moment her stomach flopped around like a beached fish, her eyes refused to focus, and then cleared. She was watching two scenes at once, the tent and somewhere else. The scenes were not superimposed. They were both present at the same time. The sickness came whenever Tevi tried to work out where she was.
Jemeryl had explained that the orbs worked by directly interacting with the watcher’s brain. Eyes and ears were not involved in the process but tried to play a part out of habit. Jemeryl had also said that the direct mental link was open to misuse, and in the Protectorate would only be permitted with strict safeguards. The absence of these safeguards was no surprise to Tevi. In her opinion, the potential for abuse was deliberate, as it was with every other form of magic in Bykoda’s Empire.
Ranenok was standing in one of the rooms of the keep. He was clearly on edge. The fingers on his hand were clenched as tightly as his jaw. His feet were making continuous small movements, as if fighting the urge to shuffle. Sensing the watchers, he looked up. His eyes met briefly with Tevi’s and something like guilt flickered there.
He drew a deep breath. “Good morning. I’m afraid I have very serious news to impart. Late last night, the Empress Bykoda was murdered in her council chamber. And by the common consent of the acolytes, Mavek is now emperor. I am acting on his orders.”
Tevi’s own surprise was such that she barely registered the gasps from the other three. Bykoda’s death she had expected. Mavek’s name she had not. Did this mean that he was the assassin, or had he merely stepped in opportunistically?
Ranenok went on. “There is more I must tell you. The Coven sorcerer, Jemeryl, has fled from Tirakhalod. Emperor Mavek wishes to speak with her most urgently. If anyone gains knowledge of her whereabouts they should contact Tirakhalod at once. She is not to be trusted and may prove very dangerous to anyone who tries to tackle her. Furthermore, her associate, Captain Tevirik, is to be arrested and must be taken to Castle Kreztino without delay. She will be questioned once she gets there.”
Kreztino was on the northern edge of the Empire, as far from the Protectorate as it was possible to get. Instinctively, Tevi took a half step back, but with three witches surrounding her, flight was impossible. Ranenok’s eyes met hers again, sad and apologetic. “In case there is some clue in her belongings, all her possessions must be brought to Tirakhalod at once. However, she is not to be mistreated. It is imperative that she remains alive and well until other orders are issued.”
*
The moon was three days past the quarter and thickening to the full. With each successive night its rays fell more strongly. It would not set until well after midnight. The guard post stood serene in its light. The gentle rush of the river matched the whisper of the grass.
The figure paused beside the last thicket. Its head twisted back and forth as if seeking, and something in the movement hinted that scent was as important as sight. The figure was human in shape although taller than a man, and its outline quivered in the breeze. Even under moonlight, it seemed strangely devoid of detail, soft and dark, like smoke.
After a few seconds more, it continued its advance. The progress was silent, smooth and unhurried, flowing rather than walking. At the door it stopped again, but this time with a suddenness that suggested it had received a jolt or run into an unexpected block. It wavered, appearing even more smoke-like in its twisting distortion, and then dissolved, sinking to the ground in a formless puddle.
Inside the guard post, the remains of the fire lit the room with a muted red light, revealing the scattered possessions littering the floor. Debris had accumulated over the three-day wait: boots, books, scraps of paper, and half-eaten food. Jemeryl lay asleep in the lower bunk, curled beneath the blanket. The even sound of her breathing and the faint shifting of logs in the fire were the only sounds.
In the dim, flickering light, the smoke seeping under the door was not at first apparent. But more and more of it flowed through—creeping tendrils, like mist off a marsh. Still it seemed to be hunting, stalking its prey. At the centre of the room it began to coalesce, rearing up to regain its original height.
Now there was detail. Red eyes gleamed in the face and fanged jaws opened. Knotted muscle bunched across shoulders and back. Clawed hands reached towards the sleeping woman.
“Er, Jem. I think you might want to wake up.” Klara gave the alarm.
Jemeryl jerked bolt upright in her bunk. Her gaze raced wildly around the room until it fixed on the phantom lurching towards her. Confusion and surprise surged across her face, followed swiftly by resolve. The thing was a simulacrum, nightmarish in form and deadly to the ungifted, but no more than a minor nuisance to a sorcerer. Jemeryl’s hand flew out in a warding gesture, sending stars of ice leaping from her fingertips. Where they hit, they sucked the figure in, so it was swallowed by ripples of implosion. For an instant the outline glowed white and then vanished, leaving only a rain of ash drifting to the floor.
Jemeryl sighed and pulled her feet out of the bed. She staggered to the fireside. The flames were nearly out. After adding another four logs, which she ignited with a fire spell, she sat with her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead resting on her knees. The fire was not necessary for warmth, her magic could have provided that, but there was something comforting in its living presence. She was in need of comfort.
“Where is Tevi?” She voiced her frustration.
“She’ll be he
re soon. She’s probably having to avoid gangs of deserters and things. You don’t need to worry. She can take care of herself.”
Jemeryl twisted her head to look at the magpie. She could put no faith in the bland reassurance. Lying to yourself rarely worked, even if you got your familiar to say the words aloud.
“She should have been here today, at the very latest. The trolls were no more than twenty miles away. It shouldn’t take her three days.”
Jemeryl’s eyes returned to the flames. Her pulse began to calm after the shock awakening, but her thoughts continued to churn. The first day in the guard post had been tedious but otherwise stress free. She had been sure that Tevi would get there that night. The next day had been one of growing anxiety. When another night passed with no sign of her missing lover, Jemeryl’s fears had crept to the fore. This was now the third night, and she could no longer avoid the conclusion that something had gone seriously wrong. She was going to have to make new plans, although her options might soon become limited.
In a burst of activity, Jemeryl rattled through the items by the fireplace, finding a pan and a flask of water. Herbal tea might calm her fears. And if not, at least making it would give her something to do rather than worry. She balanced the pan over the fire.
Klara watched with beadlike eyes. “Do you um...think Mavek has captured Tevi? And made her tell him where you are, and hence the...?” The magpie jerked her head towards the circle of ash.
“The simulacrum?” Jemeryl sat back, sombre in thought. The possibility had to be faced, but after a short while, she shook her head. “No. I suspect it came here by chance. Or more likely, Mavek has now got the situation in the castle under control and is checking the surroundings for trouble. He’s probably sent out a dozen or more of them. Simulacrums look far more dangerous than they really are—as long as you know how to deal with them. They might take care of any deserters stupid enough to try fighting, but they wouldn’t give the slightest problem even to a third-rate witch.”
The water in the pan started to boil. Jemeryl made her tea, but then put it aside, untasted. Her eyes fixed on the fire.
“Mavek wouldn’t insult me by sending a simulacrum after me. I shouldn’t think he had the first idea that I was here.” Jemeryl rested her chin on her knees. “But he does now.”
Chapter Ten—The Game of Threat and Bluff
“Sorcerer Jemeryl. I am here on behalf of the Emperor Mavek to speak with you.” The shouted words were delivered with enough volume to not only be heard inside the guard post, but to have woken Jemeryl had she still been asleep.
In fact, Jemeryl had been awake since before dawn, considering her options. The final decision, to let Mavek make the first move, had not been easy, but she was fairly sure that he would begin by talking rather than fighting, and that she would win out on any information exchange. Mavek already knew where she was. Staying put would tell him nothing new, whereas Jemeryl felt she could do with some fresh news from the castle.
She wandered to the window. Oiled cloth, rather than glass, kept out the wind while allowing in light. Somebody—possibly a deserter—had torn a small hole in the fabric. Through it, she could see one of Mavek’s assistants standing alone on the other side of the road. He was among the older blacksmiths, nearly fifty, with a lean, wiry build. Soot and grease etched the lines on his face and darkened the fringe of white hair over his ears. Jemeryl had seen him about the castle, but they had never spoken before. This was their chance to get better acquainted.
“You can come in. The door’s not locked,” she called out.
“Will you promise me safe passage?”
“No.”
Jemeryl grinned and strolled back to the fireside. It was extremely unlikely that she would want to harm the envoy, but there seemed no reason to start out by limiting her options, and she doubted that he would run back to the castle with his message undelivered, regardless of how she answered.
Two minutes passed before the door opened and Mavek’s envoy sidled in, looking ill at ease. A bag was slung over his shoulder. He deposited it on the ground by his feet.
Jemeryl remained leaning against the chimney, holding a mug in her hand. She gestured with it. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“My name’s Cluthotin.”
Jemeryl nodded her head in acknowledgement. “I take it you have a message for me.”
“Yes.” Cluthotin stood up straighter and pushed his chest out. However, the attempt to project confidence was marred by the trouble he was having in finding his voice.
“What is it?” Jemeryl prompted.
“Sorcerer Jemeryl. You have murdered the previous Empress, Bykoda, and are now trying to flee the lands. Mavek demands that you return to Tirakhalod to answer for your crimes.”
Cluthotin licked his lips nervously, waiting for her reply. Jemeryl let him wait. She sipped her tea in silence while she considered the implications of what he had said.
That Mavek was blaming her for the murder was not a complete surprise. The acolytes would know it was false, but they were too frightened by what they thought they had witnessed to defy him and tell the truth. Nor would they press him to explain his motives. However, the accusation of murder was a good excuse for everyone else, explaining why he would devote the entire resources of his newly gained empire into tracking her down.
From Mavek’s point of view, the biggest danger was if she made contact with any of the acolytes and told them how the murder had been committed. Hence, one lone, low-grade witch was being used as envoy. Jemeryl could tell Cluthotin the full story, but with the six most powerful people in the Empire as eyewitnesses against her, it was very doubtful if she could even convince Cluthotin that Mavek was the killer, let alone produce any sort of interest in her theories of how and why.
The demand that she return to Tirakhalod was the interesting bit. Did Mavek really want to force a confrontation? Surely he could not risk tackling her with witnesses present. Was it all just part of a bluff? Did Mavek think she would not comply, so there was no risk in demanding? Was it a pretence to cover a different message? And of course, there was no mention of the talisman.
Cluthotin’s composure was slipping. The pulse in his neck beat rapidly, like a bird’s. He clearly had more to say and was fearful at how it would be received. Jemeryl deliberately said and did nothing to make his task any easier. Eventually, he bent down and dug around in the bag he had brought with him. When he stood, he was holding out an iron collar.
“In view of the dangerous nature of your actions, the Emperor Mavek demands that you wear this before you enter the castle.”
“Mavek is being over-ambitious in his demands.” Jemeryl kept her voice low and deadly.
The iron collar was more that just an insult. Iron distorted the flow of energy in the higher dimensions. The effect of a complete circle so close to the brain and main sense organs was devastating in its effect on awareness of the upper dimensions. The intensity of the forces would blanket out all else. If Jemeryl obeyed the instruction she would be handicapped, reduced to below the level of ungifted. What game was Mavek playing, even to make the suggestion?
“You refuse?”
“Of course.”
Cluthotin swallowed and reached into his bag again. “The likelihood that you would respond in this way was considered. I am therefore authorised to show you these.”
He pulled out a grey shirt, a tooled leather belt, and a broad rune sword—Tevi’s shirt, Tevi’s belt, and Tevi’s sword. Jemeryl tried not to stare or react. The possibility had been growing at the back of her mind with each hour of Tevi’s non-arrival. It was one of the reasons she had waited for the expected envoy.
Cluthotin licked his lips. “You do recognise these?”
“Yes.”
“As you can tell from these tokens, your accomplice has been apprehended already. If you obey the Emperor Mavek’s orders and submit t
o custody, you are both guaranteed a fair trial. If you do not, then your accomplice will be executed immediately.”
Jemeryl gave a humourless laugh. “Do I look stupid?”
“Ma’am?”
She treated the envoy to a condescending appraisal. Attempting to explain matters to him was pointless. “If I give you a message to take back to Mavek, can you deliver it word for word? You won’t understand what it’s about, so if you try to abridge it or change the words around, you’ll get it wrong. But if not, I could write it down for you.”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t worry, it isn’t long. Tell Mavek...” Jemeryl paused, picking her words. “I’m very disappointed in him. No, he cannot have the talisman. And if he hurts Tevi, then I will make sure he ends up wishing that he’d sat on the cushion himself. And we both know I can make good on that threat.”
“So you’re defying him?”
“That’s about it.” Jemeryl drained the last of her tea and put down her empty mug. “You can go now, but leave Tevi’s things behind. And you better pray that I get the chance to give them back to her soon. If I come after Mavek, there won’t be much hope for any of the obstacles he tries to put in my way, and the chances are that you’d be one of them.”
Cluthotin pushed the whole bag in her direction with his foot and then backed towards the door. Jemeryl waited until he was gone before moving. Only then did she let herself sink down with her hands pressed to her head. Both she and Mavek were bluffing. Whose nerve would break first?
Revenge would be no substitute for losing Tevi, and Mavek would know it. But equally, Tevi was Mavek’s best protection and the only thing that could keep Jemeryl and the talisman in the northern lands and within his grasp. Executing Tevi would leave him with no cards to play. He had to keep Tevi safe from both death and rescue. He would undoubtedly have a watch on the guard post, ready to track Jemeryl if she left.
On the other hand, if Jemeryl had put on the collar, then Mavek would have been able to take the talisman and use it. Which would almost certainly result in the death of Tevi, Jemeryl, and a vast number of others. Whatever the threats, Tevi was safer with Jemeryl unconstrained.
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 19
