The Sleeping Life (Eferum Book 2)

by Andrea K Höst

  Just as if they'd been the ones wanting the meeting. Maybe the Kolan Emperor's wits were going, and they were being hauled before a senile Emperor. Better and better.

  Their escort took them off through a pair of big doors with guards outside to show they were important, and enough magic inside to make Kendall want to sneeze. Lots of spells, too many to separate out.

  Otherwise the throne room was boring: a white box without windows or any decoration. Nothing but a throne on a raised dais. And an Emperor.

  oOo

  After the riot of pattern outside, the blankness of the room was almost dizzying. Even the throne and the figure upon it lacked any colour. To non-mages that would give an impression of emptiness that must surely be deliberate, though Rennyn did not quite see what it was meant to symbolise. To the senses of a mage, however…

  Old enchantment: thick, rich and deeply flavoured, filled every gleaming corner. A week ago the layers of it would have fascinated, but Rennyn was still not in any condition to enjoy magical puzzles, and only felt stifled. Her students reacted like dogs come to point, Kendall predictably rubbing her nose and squinting with irritation.

  "Rennyn, Duchess of Surclere," announced their escort, then turned on her heel and left, the heavy doors closing behind her.

  ~Come forward.~

  Absently analysing the enchantment structures that had produced the voice, Rennyn let her fingers brush Illidian's, then pushed aside growing weariness to walk the short length of the room so that she could see the figure on the throne properly. Her companions followed a step behind, silent and wary.

  Yscaren Corusar. The Undying. Emperor of Kole for well over two hundred and fifty years. The precise details of what he'd done to himself had never been made public, but enough mages had visited this room over the centuries that Rennyn had a rough idea of the spell structure and methodology even before the shape of the enchantment came clear around her. Castings that allowed him to see, to hear, and to speak, while his body was preserved within a container of inscribed, enamelled armour, sustaining his life force but not allowing him to move, to eat, to breathe. Corusar had found a way to live indefinitely by ceasing to live at all.

  He looked like a segmented statue, the limbs smooth, the joints subtle. The white faceplate merely hinted at human features, and there were the faintest ridges in the armour's smooth surface to suggest the possibility of clothing, of hair, of what the man within should look like. It would be interesting to know if the flesh had decayed beneath the casing.

  All the white, without any hint of the Emperor's family crest or colours, reminded Rennyn strongly of Solace as she'd been after so many years in the Eferum—bleached and without human warmth. Corusar's reputation was of an impartial pragmatist, avoiding cruelty but not quick to give second chances. More Emperor than man. Even if his humanity had survived the preservation spell, it was unlikely they would succeed in achieving friendly terms with Kole's Emperor, or have him place anything above his Empire's interests.

  Curtseying brought spots to dance before her eyes, but she kept any hint of asperity from her voice when she said: "You wished to see me, Your Excellence?"

  ~And your companions.~ The voice was directionless, without inflection, but gave her a definite impression of a mind, if not a personality. ~There have been many new reports of the people known as Kellian, and your activities on the border have caused considerable stir. The group you set down in Port Enara have not made such a loud impression, but their progress has not been without incident. They are expected to reach Koletor within four days.~

  "Queen Astranelle mentioned the efficiency of Kole's intelligence network," Rennyn said, faintly amused. "Allow me to introduce, then, my husband, Illidian Faille, my students Kendall Stockton, Sukata Illuma and Fallon DeVries, and our escorts Lieutenants Aven Meniar and Keste Faral of the Tyrian Sentene."

  Stepping back, Rennyn made herself one of the group—and conveniently within range of Illidian's arm. Her general stamina had dropped dramatically following that light casting, and she could only hope she made it through the audience without collapsing.

  ~There have been no confirmed reports of the one you hunt,~ the uninflected voice continued. ~A spate of unexplained deaths in Dunnesan five weeks previous, but no verification, and no further reports of killing of that type.~

  Extremely efficient intelligencers. "Thank you. If we cannot gain his direction using our divinations, then that information may come in very useful."

  ~No pattern has been isolated that could be linked to the creature's ability to control the Eferum spawn. However, the number of current occurrences significantly outweighs the aftermath of the previous Grand Summoning.~

  "The final iteration of the casting was considerably more powerful than the first," Rennyn said, finding the abrupt series of statements a little disjointed, perhaps because the figure on the throne was a frozen object, not reacting to her responses. At least their audience was likely to be quick, given how much the Emperor already knew.

  ~In addition, in the months since your defeat of Solace, twenty-two of Kole's strongest mages have vanished without trace. I cannot say whether he is responsible for this, or any of the instances of Eferum-Get outbreak, but Kole judges this Helecho Montjuste-Surclere a major threat. A resource has been assigned to coordinate action with you.~

  The doors behind them opened, apparently indicating that their audience was over. Surprised by the number of missing mages—far more than generally discussed—Rennyn hesitated, then simply dropped into an abbreviated curtsey, and slid her arm through Illidian's as he rose from his bow. Ushering her collection of students before her, she found their escort, Kishida Dzay, waiting outside the throne room doors beside a slim man wearing a charcoal grey mask that left only his chin exposed.

  "Our resource, I presume?"

  "Your Grace, allow me to introduce Dezart Rhael Samarin," Kishida said, then bowed and smoothly effaced herself. Samarin, by contrast, inclined his head just a little.

  "So what does a resource do?" Rennyn asked Samarin, puzzled by the multiple traces of casting she could sense about the man. The mask had a certification enchantment, but there was layer upon layer of something else…something distinctly out of the ordinary.

  "Channel to you any supplies or manpower you might need," Samarin replied, his voice younger than she'd expected, but immensely self-assured. "Whisk you past checkpoints unchallenged, authorise access to restricted areas—or keep you out of them."

  The mask made it nearly impossible to guess his expression, but she thought he smiled when he added: "Primarily I will save the Intelligence Service a great deal of following you about and watching what you do. And serve to frighten off others wanting more than to watch."

  "Perhaps you can tell us about the recent disappearance of mages while we return to the carriages," Illidian said, which told Rennyn she was leaning too heavily on his arm.

  "Are you a mage, Dezart Samarin?" There was a recent casting about him, in addition to the enchantments on the mask. Healing magic?

  "In theory," he said, ushering them toward the entry hall. "I haven't built strength with practice, or summoned a focus. I'm not chasing your techniques, if that matters to you, though we are seeing some impact of them: injuries from attempts to use Thought Magic. One death reported so far."

  Rennyn bit her lip, but the guilt stabbed less than she'd expected. Ultimately, she couldn't control the actions of others.

  "I really am going to have to release some kind of guide," she said. "Although there will still be accidents, and people totally unsuited to Thought Magic making the attempt, it will at least give them some idea of the safest way to go about it."

  "That will lessen the number of deaths." Samarin's voice held just a hint of forbearance, as if she had apologised for an error. "As to the disappearances: the only firm similarity among the lost is their strength as mages. They were not taken in obvious order, and Mezuna and Keffar—considered the strongest in Kole—have not been t
aken, but all who have vanished are in the very upper tier in terms of unenhanced power.

  "They've vanished at different times of day, but mostly at night. Two separate witnesses have claimed to have seen a mage literally vanish. Each assumed at the time it was a guise-shield, and only mentioned the incident when the mage was reported missing. That has led to a flood of reports of vanishing mages, who it eventuated were using guide-shields."

  "Broken locks? Signs of struggle?" Illidian asked.

  "None. Everything suggests voluntary departure. Multiple reports of a trace of strong magic a short distance from where the mage had been staying, but no clear sense of its intent. No reports of strangers—beyond the usual that follow any crime or event. Most mages have been taking precautions. Eslay Feralan, gone only five days, had hired guards and warded her rooms. The wards weren't tripped, and the guards saw nothing, but she left some time during the night."

  "Do you know what wards she used?"

  "Six Points Exclusion and the Non-named Alert."

  Strong, fundamental castings. "A magic detect may have been more useful. Have any of the missing been young mages, strong but not yet having summoned a focus? Or were taken while not wearing their focus?"

  "No very young mages. Details concerning their focuses I will find out." They'd reached the entrance to find their coaches waiting, the hired drivers goggling interestedly. A girl in livery was holding an over-tall horse, saddled and laden with bags. It was the kind of animal that jigged and danced about, but Samarin didn't seem to find this a bad thing, nodding approvingly and taking the reins. "Compiled dossiers are to be delivered in the morning. I will follow your coach."

  Another servant set a long cloak around his shoulders and he mounted, apparently intending to ride despite the light rain. Rennyn obediently climbed into her coach, hoping that there would be no more interruptions to keep her from a bed that didn't bounce and rock. Her head was starting to throb, and she very much wanted quiet, so was glad when Meniar and Faral deftly channelled all her students into the second carriage.

  "Samarin seems liable to organise us with ruthless efficiency if not checked," she said, curling against Illidian. "But is probably more useful than inconvenient. Hopefully."

  "Did you believe his claim not to be a mage?"

  "I don't see what he'd gain by lying. It's obvious he has a grounding in theory, as you do. Unusual for anyone with mage talent to study the art, but not to practice it though. There's a distinctly odd aura around him too, very subtle, and that mask is thick with enchantment. I'll have a better idea of what it's doing when I have a chance to study him away from so much background power. As he will study us. Would you be interested in working for the Kolan Emperor?"

  "I would consider it." Illidian sounded almost surprised, and let out his breath slowly. "He has been a balanced ruler—and compassionate when compared to many of those who came before him. His long reign has given the Empire a stability it has never previously enjoyed, and what I know of his judgments I have agreed with. But Kole is not our home."

  It was rare for him to allow himself to sound so tired. Rennyn curled her fingers through his, studying the blunted close-clipped tips, then held his hand to her cheek. Home to her was Illidian. Seb was nearly as important, but Illidian had become the single absolute. And she could do no more than support him as he struggled to heal, to find some measure of the equilibrium she and the Black Queen had destroyed.

  Tucking herself against his shoulder, Rennyn wished she had the power to spare him nightmares.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "Who is the boy in the room next to yours?" Auri asked, after she had pulled Fallon into the Dream.

  "An Imperial spy," Fallon said, and explained as he followed Auri through the wall to look the sleeping Rhael Samarin over. Without his mask, he did almost look a boy, though Fallon guessed he was eighteen or nineteen.

  "Spy's the wrong word when they do it openly," Auri said. "Observer."

  "Trouble," Fallon said. "Here to learn as much as he can on behalf of the Empire, and—"

  "And what? What other secret is Duchess Surclere keeping? Does it matter if the Empire watches?"

  "There's secrets and there's, well, uncomfortable attention. Still, not so bad to have someone along that they trust even less than me."

  He trailed in Auri's wake, describing in more detail their unplanned detour to the Imperial palace, then regretting it when she sighed heavily and said:

  "You get to do all the fun things."

  "And I get to do all the dull things, too," he replied, since it was better to push back when this mood threatened Auri. "You'd have hated so many days cramped in coaches. Let's look for the secret library, since you've got me up."

  "What secret library?"

  "Where the Surclere research and histories were kept. Duchess Surclere knows there's a hidden room, but doesn't know where it is."

  Auri brightened. "A proper hidden room?"

  "Well, Duchess Surclere thinks it might be more of a cupboard. And it can't be a very big one, or the servants would surely have found it when they cleaned this place up."

  They moved quickly, since there was a limit to how long Fallon could wander around in the Dream. He had carefully chosen a central room so that most of the building's five floors—from cellar to attic—were within reach his body's tether. The place was still too big for them to be able to explore completely, but they managed to reach the larger part. Auri, humming cheerfully, purposefully walked through any wall that looked a likely candidate for hiding a room or cupboard, and since they had headed down, rather than up, it was not too long before she discovered that she couldn't walk through the heavy stones of the cellar stairs.

  "Some kind of ward?" she speculated, trying to poke a finger into the cracks. "I can tell when there's a ward, though."

  "I wonder if there is a casting that would hide a ward?" Fallon said. "But it's been years since anyone's been here: can any ward have lasted so long?"

  "Cast some divinations tomorrow," Auri ordered, turning to explore the rest of the cellar, which was large and high-ceilinged, and featured a central casting circle. Almost all the walls were out of her range, however, and so she shrugged and headed back upstairs to flit through the top two floors.

  The attic was long and almost as clear as the cellar—perhaps again to offer a place for mages to cast—so there was little in reach to search.

  "How long do we stay here?" Auri asked, singing to herself—ta ta TUM—while taking a few dancing steps on the long, bare floorboards.

  "It was going to be a week, while Lady Claire reviewed the house contents. But we're running late, and the rest of the Sentene will arrive soon, so I don't know if we'll leave for the Forest of Semarrak on the expected date, or delay. After that, it depends on whether the divination to locate Prince Helecho ever stops pointing west. But no matter whether he's dealt with, or we can't find him, we're going to winter here to avoid the snows."

  Auri's positive mood was fading, and she rubbed her arms in the doubled chill of the Dream and the attic. "Will Mrs Pardons really be able to take care of Father until spring?"

  "I hope so. She'll at least have enough to feed him, presuming the Arkathan's fee refund went through. Having seen this place, I now understand why Duchess Surclere was so disinterested in charging for lessons, even though she could ask almost anything and people would pay it."

  "Can you—"

  Auri broke off. Someone had come up the attic stair, so quietly that Fallon hadn't even noticed until a man passed right through him.

  "Who is this?" Auri asked.

  "I don't know. Probably one of the servants Duchess Surclere's agent engaged? But that's…" Fallon frowned in the dim greyness of the attic. The man was carrying a small collection of books, and clearly attempting to move as quietly as possible.

  "Do you think he found the secret library?" Auri trailed after the man.

  "Is…I think that top book's one of the instruction texts Lieute
nant Meniar brought along," Fallon said, blankly.

  "Oh? It's a real spy?" Auri reached the limit of her tether and clicked her tongue in irritation.

  The man walked into the gloomy far reaches of the attic, and knocked on the wall: a trio of double-beats. After a tense moment there was a muffled clunk, and then the wall opened a crack. The man slipped hurriedly through, and the wall sealed shut behind him.

  "Quickly!" Auri said, and they raced downstairs.

  Fallon hurled himself back into his body, and woke with a start, then leapt out of bed, or tried to, landing on the floor with a thump. He staggered back to his feet and snatched open the door, then stopped.

  What did he think he was going to do? Rouse the house and lead them in a charge on an empty attic?

  Don't tell anyone or I'll kill you. Just words, a throw-away phrase, but Sigillic Magic was also just words, and power to give their intent form. At times he would start choking when all he'd done was think about trying to find a way to explain about Auri. How could he possibly warn the Sentene about the thief, and the hidden exit, without touching on just how he knew?

  Feeling heavy as lead, he turned back, but only to fetch his slate book. Then, far less precipitately, he headed for the attic.

  It was, at least, not as chilly as it had been in the dream. Autumn in the south was pleasant enough when it wasn't raining. Fallon stopped at the central point where he and Auri had been, then rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. Now what? A trap for when the servant returned? If he claimed that he'd heard a noise, followed the man up here… Or perhaps he could pretend he was up so late in order to win approval by finding the hidden library. They'd believe that of him, and once a divination had revealed this hidden exit, the Sentene would naturally investigate, even though the people involved might be long gone by then.

  "What are we doing?" asked an interested voice.