For Whom the Bell Trolls: Hands of the Highmage, Book 1

by D. H. Aire

  Yel’ane looked at him, “The Scales?”

  “She hacking them.”

  “No, she’s not,” En’sta said, “we’re not hard wired like on the ship.”

  “Uh huh, the ship,” Lawson muttered, looking at the horses. “What ship, En’sta?”

  “Questor, where you’re… Oh.”

  He glanced back, “Raise your hand if this means anything to you?”

  They all nodded.

  “B valve.”

  Three hands raised.

  He blinked. “Fine, Manuals.”

  Every hand was raised, including a startled Yel’ane’s.

  “Name them?”

  “Main engineering, Power Plant Maintenance,” the girls intoned, “System Reboot, Communication’s Array, Medical Diagnostic Systems—”

  “Enough!” he struggled not to shout.

  “We’ve been hacked,” En’sta said.

  “By the Lords…”

  “Papa, what’s this mean…?”

  “Mother’s making you my next Repair Team that’s what.”

  Yel’ane whispered, “I thought I was your apprentice?”

  “She senior Apprentice First Class,” Ani’ya told her, then her hand covered her mouth.

  Lawson lowered his head, turned to Jen’yan, “Identify.”

  “Apprentice Engineer Fifth Class Jen’yan Lawson, Sir,” her hands covered her mouth.

  The girls looked at each other, “Apprentice Engineer Fourth Class Res’yr, Sir.” The others chorused their service ranks.

  Yel’ane muttered, “Lawson, what’s this mean?”

  “Mother’s doing more than hacking, you’re all in prelim systems training.”

  He looked at Ani’ya, “Identify.”

  “Apprentice Second Class Ani’ya Lawson,” she gritted her teeth, fighting to say something, then it came out, “Milord.”

  “Ani’ya, you are not marrying him!”

  “I will, too!”

  “Wait ‘til her Aunt finds out.”

  Ani’ya paled, “Uh, we don’t have to get Aunt Re’ut involved.”

  Yel’ane said, “Well, if I’ve anything to say about she’s going to be very involved in any such decision… Oh, what am I saying? The woman is going to kill me for this.”

  Lawson shook his head, “She’ll just have to get in line. Hmm, think I can just jump off the edge there?”

  “Papa!” the girls shouted.

  “Lawson!” Yel’ane said.

  Ani’ya started crying, “Don’t joke about it. I’m sorry that I don’t just want to be your foster-daughter, but a mother of your House.”

  He sighed, “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m sorry. I love all of you and was joking… badly.” I think.

  :?: One of the watching bots, pressed up against the ceiling of the wagon, tendril partially extended queried.

  :.: Normal operations. No repair required.

  #

  The Imperial Guards had their hands on their scabbarded sword’s hilts. They watched the entertainers pass through the Rian Imperial Gate. Its wards, too, did not react. The chained troll with the archer, her bow and quiver held by a Sergeant of the guards, who following them as their official escort, also did not set off the Imperial wards.

  The guards relaxed slightly, eyes narrowed, knowing they would never see the show that Lord Rian planned for his eyes alone.

  Hynrik smiled as they proceeded toward the Provincial Palace.

  The Sergeant was actually more pleased as he ordered the escort to halt. The city details were responsible from here. He passed the bow and quiver to the detachment’s corporal, who nodded.

  The Sergeant then dismissed the men to liberty until the next morning, when they were to return to the North Tower. The men headed off, but none to actually liberty. They had their orders and signals to pass where concealed wards would keep them from scrying eyes.

  #

  Hynrik told the troupe, after they were led to luxurious quarters with silk covered walls and seemingly half the floor covered by soft cushions upon which they could sit or rest, that Lord Rian was feasting them at a banquet. “Refresh yourselves and be sure to wear your costumes.”

  Casber frowned, “Uh, people live like this?”

  “Apparently?” Lawson said as the girls bounded to the cushions in delight, Yel’ane shouting, “Stop that, this instant!”

  Greth had been led off with Nessa, who returned less than happy at the accommodations that Greth now had; he was surrounded by warded bars. The girls no longer frolicked, thinking the place so delightful.

  Lawson’s cheek twitched and he smiled faintly.

  Yel’ane glanced at him. “You find something amusing.”

  His eyes narrowed, “Just the thought of how much gold we’re soon going to have.”

  She nodded, “This will be quite the show, if the girls can control themselves.”

  “Uh, Yel’ane,” Vi’ya protested.

  “Lie down and get some rest!” she replied as Nessa offered a glare that silenced further protests.

  An hour later, Hynrik returned and asked if Ani’ya might play her fiddle to entertain during the meal. A strongbox was brought, “Lord Rian sends you these Charms as gifts. They have been stored away many years, and have properties mage researchers have gleamed little about. Lord Rian hopes you will find them of use to your show.”

  A case was brought, opened, and Hynrik took out a jeweled necklace, “This Lord Rian wishes to grace the neck of the songbird he has heard so much about.”

  Ani’ya stared at it. It sparkled. Her eyes seemed to dance, “Oh, its lovely.”

  Lawson forestalled Yel’ane and Nessa’s protest. He knew magery when he saw it and knew that if was anything but benign. “Go ahead, Ani’ya.”

  She put it around her neck as the girls clustered about her admiring it.

  “Dinner is served,” a herald announced.

  Chapter 48 – Erkiil

  The doors to the hall opened and Lord Rian rose from behind the great table facing them and applauded. “The entertainers I have heard so much about! The Magician, the bareback rider, the archer,” he smiled at each, smiled broadly at Yel’ane, “the acrobat, and the lovely girls — the Sprite, who delight every audience… and you, the young lady, wearing my jewel with fiddle in hand, you are the famed songbird.”

  Ani’ya offered a little bow.

  “You have agreed to entertain us during the meal. I have ordered your portion to remain warmed in the kitchens until the main repast.”

  “Thank you, Lord Rian.”

  He smiled. “Ah, Magician, you know Master Hynrik, who brokered your performance and would negotiate some additional details, if you much accompany him for a few minutes.”

  Lawson frowned, “We already have an agreement.”

  Hynrik responded, “We most certainly do, but Lord Rian would like you to consider additional performances, perhaps even a long term engagement. Come let us talk in the adjoining room, where we can bargain in earnest.”

  #

  The Scrying Mage had been told to monitor the bargaining between Hynrik and the Magician and to alert Lord Erkiil’s mages and guards if it became necessary to enforce the bargain Hynrik was brokering.

  He watched the pool, which offered more than one vision. The Scryer’s Pool was a work of ancient High Magery, no rival to the great Talisman of the Consecrated’s Tower on the northern border, it was a focused tool, intended to warn of any infiltration of the Great Way or the Provincial city from within or without.

  The Scrying Mage before him had found the duties distasteful as he ferreted out some many traitors of elvin blood or purely human. One day, the mage had had enough and sought to betray Lord Rian, in turn. As that master’s journeyman, it had been his duty to warn Lord Rian, who tortured the elfblooded mage to death as he claimed his innocence, though, the scrying pool showed his actions all too clearly.

  The scryer, who had found so many traitors, died at Lord Rian’s hands as they had. P
leased at the journeyman’s loyalty, the young mage found himself elevated to the Provinces Master of Scryers and found women provided to his household to serve his every need.

  That his needs were few came as a welcome surprise to the women, who wore thick makeup to conceal the fact they bore no bruises. They became fiercely loyal to the Scryer was noted and a thing the scryer took pride in, which added to the level of appreciation Lord Rian had in him.

  The Scrying Mage frowned as something obscured the scene around the troll’s prison. It happened a second time. The troll reached out and grasped at the shadows as if they were physical, his arms seemed to stretch upward as he stood in the outside enclosure, which had no roof. It almost looked like he was jumping upward in the air as he smiled. The Scryer cringed. The image suddenly was lost.

  He blinked, uncertain, then waved his hand over a quadrant of the still water and looked to see what the Magician was doing as Hyrnik explained the costume changes. The Magician frowned, held out his hands, seeming to ask exactly how much they were talking about.

  Hynrik smiled thinly, said something to which the Magician shook his head.

  Hynrik countered.

  The Magician shook his head.

  Hynrik shook his head.

  The Magician leaned back and seemed to pose a question.

  Hynrik could not conceal a grin, then shrugged, feigning disinterest.

  The scrying moved to watch the Great Hall, where the girls were eating. Lord Rian was smiling as he spoke with the boy and two older girls. The youngest girl had drunk of her goblet of juice and yawned as the songbird played, eyes closed and entranced.

  Another girl yawned, her goblet half drained, setting her head down.

  The boy yawned. Lord Rian gestured and all his servants and guards left the hall.

  One of the older girls frowned, glancing back, rising from her chair, mouthing, “Oh, no.” Her eyes rolled up and Lord Rian reached out and helped settle back in her chair. The boy staggered and fell, tumbling out of the Scryer’s sight.

  Lord Rian rose, smoothed the older girls’ hair, kissed their cheeks, then went over to the enthralled fiddler.

  The Pool flashed red.

  The Scryer was startled, stared as a flaring horn rose up out of the suddenly churning waters, ‘No more!’

  Hands in the air, the scryer stared at the glaring unicorn’s head, “My Lady, believe me, I am on your side! Help is coming as we speak!”

  The unicorn turned and the waters splashed back into the pool.

  The Mage laughed, waiting for the waters to still once more. “At last, Rian shall be free at last!”

  #

  Lawson nodded as the price for betraying all the girls reached its peak. He reached into his robe and drew out a dragon scale. “Now to seal our agreement,” Lawson said, “I would like to present you a gift.”

  Hynrik frowned.

  “This charm is very rare. It is a dragon’s scale.”

  “A dragon’s…”

  “Very rare, very valuable. But what it can do…”

  “What?”

  “It works like this…” he released it and it hung in the air. “Incapacitate.”

  Hynrik had no time to scream as a dozen tendrils struck, slowed his heart and put him into a medically induced coma. The bot could have laid the man down, but Lawson did appreciate how the man thudded to the floor.

  :?:

  Lawson did not reply, having already heard Casber’s warning as his computer alerted him they had been drugged.

  #

  Greth, dragon scales wrapped around his hands, rose into the air above his cage, then the scales tendrils released him. He dropped to the ground just as an apparently unarmed gray haired man holding the cage keys entered the courtyard.

  He dropped them on the ground, “Well, I guess I didn’t have to drug all the guards, after all.”

  Greth growled.

  The man raised his hands, “I’m Father Grinyal, last living priest of the Temple of Knowledge here in Rian. I know you can understand me, Sir Troll.” That is if you really are a troll, he thought. “I’m going to take something out of my robes, which I believe is yours.”

  Eyes narrowed, he watched the man draw out his dagger, which was the size of a short sword. Greth took it from the man and smiled.

  The troll’s smile sent shivers down his spine.

  “Um, Erkiil’s guards found that hidden in the wagon and they brought it to me instead of their superiors since my old friend has called those Sworn to the Fifth to rise up against Lord Erkiil and his toads this night.”

  “Good.”

  “Uh, this way, Sir Troll.”

  “I am Greth, Colonel of Marines.”

  The priest stared, then smiled, “Oh, my, you wouldn’t happen to have any friends around?”

  “I won’t need any… just point.”

  The priest now grinned, “Right this way.”

  #

  Lord Erkiil plucked the fiddle and the bow for the girl’s hands, and set them on the floor. He walked around her, feeling the soft skin of her shoulder. Lifting the hem of her skirt, which he slipped off her hips, letting it drop to her feet as she continued to play in her dreams.

  He cackled with glee as he stepped in front of her and tore her halter, then cast it aside. “Delightful!”

  The doors behind him burst open.

  “Hynrik, not now!” he said, impatiently.

  “Not ever!” growled a voice such as he had never heard in his life.

  He turned and saw the Magician running toward him as fast as an elf. Erkiil shouted out a curse.

  The Magician’s dagger swept upward. There was an explosion and the Magician’s other hand rose balled up in a fist and hit him in the jaw. Lord Rian’s body was lifted off the floor. The elflord was dead before he hit the ground.

  Lawson paused before Ani’ya, who fiddled wearing nothing save her small clothes. He drew off the necklace, set it on the floor and stabbed down with his discolored metal dagger. The jewel and the magery binding it shattered.

  Ani’ya continued to dance.

  Lawson put his dagger back in its sheath, putting has hand gently on the girl’s shoulders, “Ani’ya, wake up.” Her head was canted as if she was still playing, as she continued to finger illusionary strings. “Ani’ya, wake up!”

  He lifted her up so they were face to face. “If this doesn’t work, no one will ever know, right? Right…” he muttered, then hugged her close and kissed her.

  She went limp in his arms, then her arms went around his neck and she was kissing him as an eight-year-old should not know how. His eyes widened as hers blinked. He found she did not seem to want to break away from that kiss even though her eyes were hers again.

  When she came up for breath she rasped, “Now we’re married.”

  “Um.”

  She hugged him close, “I know. Yel’ane’s first, there’s a chance I bear you a son, too, so there.”

  “Huh?”

  “I saw it as I played, but the Curse complicates matters for now. She faded in and out between the fates.”

  “Uh, Ani’ya.”

  “What?”

  “Let go. I’d like to put you down, now.”

  She frowned. “No. It’s our wedding night.” She glanced over his shoulder, “And I don’t see anyone complaining.”

  “Ani’ya. It’s not our…”

  “I kissed you as your woman, and you kissed me. I’m well and truly bonded as your wife. Oh, don’t worry, we’re not telling anyone for a very long time. I’m too young to have your babies. We will have three little girls, by the way. You and Yel’ane, I saw your son, Milord. He’s cute in his way.”

  “Um.”

  She pressed her cheek against his furry face. “It’s so soft. I’m going to miss it.”

  “Miss what?”

  “Oh, never mind,” loosening one of her arms and reaching into his robe to feel the soft fur of his chest. “Definitely miss it.”

  “Ani�
�ya?”

  “Dance with me, Milord.”

  He said, “Uh, Ani’ya, there’s a matter of his guards.”

  She frowned, “Oh, I forgot to tell you.”

  “What?” he sighed.

  “I’m going to be your Mother Shaman.”

  “Fine, whatever that means.”

  “I don’t understand it all, either, but part of it means, between Mother hacking me and whatever that jewel did, I’ve ‘glimpses’ now. So, right now Greth’s making a mess of Erkiil’s mages with his dagger and fists and that old elflord Commander’s gathered men, who are throwing off Lord Rian’s sigil and taking up arms against him. The unicorn’s threatening the Lord’s guard, preventing them from getting in here, by the way. So, we’ve about twenty minutes before anyone disturbs us… and since I’m too young for you to take advantage of. I want our dance.”

  The dragon’s scale floated over to them.

  She pointed, “Repair that, please.”

  It floated to the floor and began sewing the torn halter.

  Lawson danced with his future wife, knowing this was all Mother’s fault.

  Ani’ya nuzzled his cheek, “I’m sorry this isn’t much of a wedding night for you, but I’m going to make it right.”

  “Oh, how’s that?” he asked, trying to cradle her like an infant.

  She smiled, “You’ll find out, Milord… and Mother will be so pleased.”

  He looked her in the eyes, not certain there was a little girl in there anymore. She smiled back, “It’s a Mother Shaman thing.”

  He groaned as the dragon scale floated up with her repaired halter and her skirt. She took them, slipped them back on as he cradled her, then giggled, “You know you could have put me down to dress?”

  His cheek twitched as his cheeks flushed, “Um.”

  “I love you, too, and hate it that I’m going to have to keep calling you Papa,” she said, then frowned still cradled in his arms. The very air had gone still. Lawson wasn’t moving, time paused around her. “Uh, hmm, well, if that’s the case, why shouldn’t I?” she smiled, wiggled about, turned over and had to stretch to get away with it, then got back into the position she had been cradled in when time paused. “Oh, thank you for that,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Quite a stroke of luck, your being here. It’ll be our little joke. Oh, I’m to tell you for what it’s worth, ‘The End.’”