The woman with him held more interest for Isaura. Wisps of brown hair peeked out from beneath a sheepskin hat, and the bulky coat she wore hid her form, but Isaura guessed that her thickness was more coat than body. Her eyes, a deep blue, flicked warily. The man with her was shivering because of the cold, but she was shivering because of her dislike for the place in which she stood.
Neskartu let a hand stretch from his form to point at them. These are the Azure Spider and Vionna, the Pirate Queen of Wruona.
Isaura let no emotion pass over her face as she stepped onto the dais beside Neskartu. She simply turned to face the visitors and nodded solemnly. “Welcome to Aurolan.”
The man started to speak, but Vionna stopped him by pressing a gloved hand to his chest. “Chytrine summoned us and we have traveled a long, difficult road to get here. The summons was urgent, so we should be speaking with her, shouldn’t we?”
“My mother is not in a position to greet you herself, so I have come in her stead.” Isaura’s reference to Chytrine surprised Vionna, but the girl suppressed a smile at that result. “As you are aware, the war with the Southlands demands great attention. Shifting circumstances have embroiled her in pressing matters.”
The Azure Spider snarled. “So, then, I am supposed to stay here and freeze?”
Isaura gave him a thin smile. “You will only freeze if you try to leave.”
“Is that a threat?”
Neskartu’s form swelled and color moved through him more swiftly. When his words appeared in her mind, they had become brambles. This child provided you a courteous warning about the hazards of peregrinations in Aurolan. Take pains to apologize now.
The man winced, having borne the full brunt of Neskartu’s comment. The Azure Spider did bow his head in Isaura’s direction. “Please forgive my misunderstanding.”
The snowy-maned beauty nodded slowly because her upbringing demanded it, but she did not really forgive him. The look in his eyes told her much. He, a Southlander, believed in his heart that her mother was evil. His own greed had pushed him past his fear of her, but also never let him see the true Chytrine, the one who was fighting to save the world from the corruption of the south. Her mother had suggested she might be betrayed, and Isaura found a prime candidate in the Azure Spider.
Neskartu shifted his gaze to Vionna. My mistress bids me to give you a message. She forgave your inability to destroy Vilwan because you did bring her a cargo of students. She continued to trust you, but you failed her when you allowed the sapphire Truestone to be stolen. Had you just given it to her agent, it would not have been lost. You cost her something she held most dear.
Vionna’s chin came up and her eyes slitted. “And she wishes me to atone for my failure?”
There is a way, yes. The sullanciri’s form sank back to normal. However, you are required to pay a price to earn the chance to atone. As you cost her something dear, so she demands something dear of you.
“And that would be?”
Your paramour.
Even before the realization that Neskartu was talking about him had registered on the Azure Spider’s face, Vionna had nodded her assent. A thread of blue energy rose within the sullanciri’s form, then lashed out. It slapped against the Azure Spider’s chest and melded itself to his blouse, stiffening it so the man’s arms shot out straight to his sides at shoulder level.
“You can’t do this to me! Vionna, darling, you can’t let them do this to me!” His hazel eyes widened as blue webwork flowed down over his trousers and boots, further restraining him. “Vionna, think of what we mean to each other!”
The pirate queen regarded him coldly. “You or death? Choices, choices. You were fun, but a blanket can keep me warm at night and doesn’t become petulant when it’s not the center of attention.”
“Vionna!”
The woman backhanded her lover, and Isaura recoiled from the violence. The man began to sob. Bloody spittle mixed with tears and ran down to drip off his chin.
Be still, Vionna, for you have given him to my mistress. Damage her property no more. The energy tendril thickened and lifted the Azure Spider from the dais and hung him in the air as if he were bound to some unseen crucifix. Now, for you, who shall become known as Spyr’skara, you have been fancied a legend. From this point forward you shall join the greatest of legends. My mistress has decided that despite your failures, you will be allowed to join the sullanciri and serve her. You will be more than the sum of all your past. Do you wish to serve her?
Isaura watched the man and waited for him to agree. She had studied the spells that had to be worked to transform a being into one of her mother’s elite. While they could be worked on someone who was reluctant, that reluctance blocked them from enjoying their full power. A sullanciri created by Neskartu, as was evidenced by Ganagrei and the other lesser sullanciri, would not be as powerful as those transformed by her mother. Myrall’mara, Nefrai-kesh, Nefrai-laysh, Neskartu, and Ferxigo had been blessed among her generals and fashioned by her hand alone. The lessers had been worked in concert with Neskartu, but Spyr’skara would be the first he had done without her.
And this is why he needs me. While Neskartu was extremely powerful, his core humanity hampered him. Though he had learned much since his transformation, certain concepts about dealing with the Aurolani school of magick eluded him. Isaura, whom Chytrine had tutored personally for decades, had grown up understanding that system. She could work the grander spells that would contain and reinforce the transformation.
As she had been taught, magick itself flowed through reality in a massive, surging river with eddies and currents, rapids of varying severity and deadly sinks that could suck down even the most careful of mages. Human magick did not recognize the river for what it was, but thought magickal energy just a pool from which the substance to work spells could be drawn. Human mages did recognize dangers in dipping magick from the pool, so their spells were arranged to be a series of handholds and belay lines that would prevent them from slipping too far into the pool and drowning.
While their prudence doubtlessly saved many a foolish mage, it also prevented them from accessing deeper, purer power. A thirsty man might settle for any water, but given a choice would go for cooler. Human magick never allowed its practitioners a chance to find that cooler water and, hampered as they were, they remained unable to truly grasp that they were dealing with a river.
The elves and urZrethi had progressed enough to know that the pool did have motion in it, and that some energy was better than others, but still the idea of the river escaped them. Neskartu had learned enough to perceive motion and different currents of different values, but the vastness of the river escaped even him. Isaura suspected he was afraid of how much power could be had, and afraid that he might just dive into it and never surface again.
That latter fear was one she had known when she first had her eyes opened to the true nature of magick. Her mother allayed that fear by showing her how to read the river. Isaura now could follow the flows. She could look forward and back, spot eddies and sinks. With a thought here or there she could navigate across the flow to reach those currents she required to perform her magicks.
The Azure Spider lifted his head. “I accept.” He glared sidelong at the pirate queen. “I move beyond you.”
The blue energy flared, and the man’s clothing instantly combusted into an azure flame. The man writhed, though the fire he breathed in so seared his throat that he could make no sound. He fought for a moment, then the flame closed around him in a tight blue shroud. His feet rose, his arms came in. For a moment or two his elbows, head, heels, and knees stretched the shroud, then the shape solidified and flowed into something akin to an egg, retaining the blue hue and exhibiting a spiderweb pattern in black over the surface.
The egg hovered in the air and Vionna pulled back. “What are you doing to him?”
That which will please my mistress. That which will allow him to fulfill her desires. Neskartu shifted his gaze to Isaura by floa
ting his eyes around to the left side of his head. You know your part, Princess.
Isaura drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then closed her eyes. She invoked a simple spell that allowed her to see things in the realm of magick. By this sight, Vionna did not register at all. Neskartu appeared to be much the same as always, and the Thaumatorium glowed green with the residual effects of countless magicks.
The man inside the egg had taken on the grey of ash. Stepping forward, Isaura invoked another spell. She reached her hands up, and they passed through the sides of the shell as if it were not there. Had she desired to do so, she could have reached into the Azure Spider’s chest and with the brush of a finger stilled his racing heart. She knew that could be done because she had seen it done with animals, but her mother had only done that so Isaura could learn to set it to beating again before the soul had left the body.
With her hands in place on his head and heart, she concentrated and felt the river flowing around her. There was little for her to see and less to hear, but currents raced past, teasing and buffeting—at times playful and at others resentful. The most violent she let slip past, then found one that suited her needs. Isaura drew it into her, then projected it into the man.
Pure magickal energy flowed into him, dissolving his physical nature as quickly as boiling water dissolves inkstone powder. The energy flooded into the shell, roiling and rising, fighting the confines. Surges shot to the apex, then dripped back down again, unable to escape and seeking a place to run.
A surge of energy from Lord Neskartu injected itself into the mix. It provided direction through a complex series of spells. Isaura caught hints of urZrethi magick, but since the object was transformation, that hardly was a surprise. Other bits and pieces, elven and human, swirled past, then odd things joined them. Neskartu had clearly been fashioning some magicks of his own. They came from human roots, but had been woven differently and were unrecognizable.
Is this the betrayal my mother fears?
Though no answer came to that question, the magicks the sullanciri employed did their work. The Azure Spider shook and twitched. His spirit clawed at the new shape in which it was imprisoned. She could feel the man’s outrage and shock, but she did not pity him. She could understand fear, but she knew the rewards her mother would grant for serving her. In the world free of southern tyranny, he would be among the most grand heroes, worshipped for all time.
It is done, Princess.
Isaura nodded and drew her hands back, then returned to her place. She blinked, canceling the spells she’d cast, and slowly smiled at Vionna. “It went well.”
The pirate queen had paled and stared wide-eyed at the floating egg. “What did you do?”
One last burst of power flowed from Neskartu and toward the egg. The floating ovoid blazed blue, then began to shrink. From the size of a man’s torso, it shrank slowly and silently to something barely larger than a hen’s egg. At the last it drifted to Vionna and she cupped it in both hands. The magickal cord connecting it to the sullanciri snapped and she almost dropped the egg.
He will rest now. You shall keep him close to you, nestled against you, for warmth—his, not yours.
She shook her head. “I am not some hen to incubate an egg.”
Neskartu’s thoughts lashed her. You are what my mistress wishes you to be. And not a hen, a courier. Spyr’skara is required in Meredo a day hence.
Vionna frowned. “Impossible. That journey would take months.”
My mistress knows you fail at the possible, so she would not set before you the impossible. You will be conducted there. When you are, open the egg and release him.
“Will it be safe?” The pirate queen looked at the egg. “He was not pleased with me before, and I suspect he will be less so now.”
He will do as bidden and, for now, he is bidden not to harm you. You have a more important task, for you shall take the princess with you.
Isaura’s silver eyes grew wide. “To the Southlands? I am going south?”
It is as your mother desires, Princess. You will go and observe. She wishes this. She wishes you to bring the ruby replica so you may aid in the recovery of that Truestone. A certain pleasure drifted through the sullanciri’s thoughts. In Meredo you will learn, Princess, learn much that will determine the future.
Isaura started to smile, then a shiver shook her. She had never ventured outside Aurolani domains. While she hungered to see the world her mother had described—no matter its faults—the prospect daunted her. She feared her reactions but, far worse, she feared disappointing her mother.
She nodded. “I shall do as I am bidden, Lord Neskartu.”
Of course you shall, Princess. The swirling of colors in his form quickened. And you, Vionna?
The pirate looked at the egg, then sighed. “It seems the custom to do as one is bidden. I shall not disappoint.”
Very good. The alternative would have been unpleasant. The sullanciri let an arm flow out to the left. Come and enjoy the rewards the empress offers her allies. Tonight you shall be feasted, and tomorrow you shall earn even greater favor.
CHAPTER 19
P rincess Alexia smiled carefully as she sat in the audience chamber where Crow’s trial had begun. The room was not exactly small, but was far smaller than the palace’s throne room. Unlike the throne room, this chamber had not undergone extensive restoration. While it still featured strong columns upholding a vaulted roof, the walls had not been covered with wooden panels. Tapestries depicting ancient history, a few in serious need of repair, covered them instead.
At the narrow end of the rectangular room, a set of three thrones had been placed, with the centermost pushed slightly back. In it sat Prince Linchmere. Though Alexia knew him to be in his mid-thirties, the man’s soft and unremarkable features belied his age. Of average height and on the considerably rounder side of lean, even the fierce visage into which his mask had been worked could not supply him strength or presence. When he listened to evidence, he listened distractedly, and the princess was fairly certain that at least once he had fallen asleep.
Augustus, wearing a thin, black courtesy mask, took the throne at Linchmere’s right hand, placing him closest to Alexia. Furthest was Queen Carus of Jerana, a small woman with black hair and restless dark eyes. She wore an embroidered gown of light blue, and had been given a lacy courtesy mask dyed to match. In direct contrast to Linchmere, she listened to things closely and questioned witnesses sharply. She savaged Cabot Marsham as the man testified to things he had said before the Council of Kings a quarter century before, and clearly had studied Jeranese records of the proceedings as she called for constant clarifications of his statements.
Crow sat in the prisoner’s docket, with iron shackles securing his feet. He’d been washed and had pulled his white hair back into a tail knotted with black leather. He’d only been allowed simple clothing, but did not appear at all uncomfortable in it, save when a cold draft touched him.
So far the trial had been going well. Marsham had clearly been the cornerstone of the prosecution, but Queen Carus pointed to inconsistencies between what he had said before and what he was telling them now. Moreover, she pointed out, correctly, that his only knowledge of events had come through conversations with Hawkins. This reduced the whole of his testimony to the level of hearsay, which she was not inclined to countenance.
While early testimony by two court mages—one Vilwan-trained—had strongly linked Crow with Hawkins and suggested they were one and the same, beyond that the prosecution faltered. It seemed unlikely that the primary witness against Hawkins would testify. To take the stand would have left Scrainwood open to the sort of close questioning Queen Carus had given Marsham. And since Augustus had been present during the siege of Fortress Draconis where the treason had occurred, he could correct or counter exaggerations. Without that testimony, and since no one save Crow could testify to what had happened in the warrens of Boragul, the Oriosan case against him began to crumble.
Alexia
watched Crow as the queen tore into Marsham and felt a bit surprised. Marsham clearly loathed Crow. The venom in his voice, the anger in his eyes, made his hatred of Crow readily apparent. Alexia had not liked the little man from the first time she’d met him, and was taking great delight in his squirming. Likewise, deeper amid the spectators, Will seemed to be enjoying Marsham’s discomfort.
Crow was not. He kept his face impassive and listened. She couldn’t tell if he felt sorry for the man, or hated him. Alexia found her gaze again and again drawn to his strong profile and the sense of peace Crow possessed. In some ways it calmed her and, yet, in others, it excited her.
Crow’s face remained still, save the couple of times when he turned slightly to glance at her. His head would incline forward, tucking his chin down until his beard touched his chest, then he would give her just the hint of a smile. That left eye would close just a whisker shy of a wink, then he would look back up and pay attention again to the court proceedings.
Every time he smiled at her Alexia had to fight to hide her own smile. It was not that she was unused to smiling at Crow. In the time leading up to the trial, she had smiled much at the mention of his name, and had even taken to toying with the gold band around her ring finger. She visited him as often as she could, and hours talking with him flew past. There were even times when she completely forgot where they were, and the reality of his captivity surprised her. At all times she pushed to portray the image of a woman deeply in love with her husband, and did not admit to anyone that all was a pretense, though many suspected and even more were certain.
She had played the role to the hilt and despite the desperation that had prompted her to fashion that solution, there had been many a pleasant moment. Alexia sorely missed the nights on the road, when she and Crow had shared a tent. The two of them had whispered together, at first telling simple things, relating stories and remembrances. They were all of the nature of campfire stories, and quite harmless. Indeed, at first their interaction was nothing more than what the two of them had shared while on the Okrannel campaign together, or on the flight from Fortress Draconis.
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