Dangerous Waters

by Juliet E. McKenna

  All save Baron Taine. He remained on his feet. ‘We mean no such insult.’ He looked annoyed. ‘But you sanctioned magic to resolve this war in Lescar. We learned that at our Spring Parliament.’

  Now Jilseth regretted sitting. She couldn’t see Planir’s expression.

  ‘Do explain,’ The Archmage invited, faintly sceptical.

  Baron Taine swept his mantle back, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘Emperor Tadriol of Tormalin was granted a wizard’s assistance to determine who truly murdered Duke Orlin of Parnilesse and his family.’

  So that’s what he meant. Relieved, Jilseth supposed it was inevitable that such a startling story had flown across those lands once under Tormalin’s dominion which remained linked by tradition and commerce.

  She wondered how the barons might react if they knew she had been that very necromancer, drawing images of tortured death from Parnilesse’s murdered duchess’s head, stolen from its gatehouse spike. She winced inwardly at the memory.

  ‘In the interests of justice, yes, I agreed to that wizardry,’ Planir agreed with deceptive mildness. ‘The last thing the benighted Lescari needed was Tormalin legions crossing their borders. Once Emperor Tadriol knew that the rebellion’s leaders were innocent of that appalling crime, the Lescari were free to punish the guilty men themselves.’

  Braced, Taine stood facing Planir. ‘We seek freedom for Caladhrian innocents and punishment for the guilty.’

  Planir shook his head, regretful. ‘As I explained when Baron Halferan first sought our aid, sinking corsair ships breaks those very edicts against magical interference in mainland affairs which your parliament values so highly. You could not have wished to see wizardry double and redouble the recent bloodshed in Lescar?’

  Jilseth was pleased to see the seated barons grimace at that prospect.

  ‘Surely your magic could drive them off course with a storm?’ Baron Myrist asked hopefully.

  ‘So some other coast can suffer?’ enquired Planir. ‘Where do you propose we send them?’

  ‘Then stop them sailing north to begin with.’ Taine betrayed some irritation.

  ‘Imprison these raiders in their Archipelagan lair, and we would need to go scrying to find them first.’ Planir considered this. ‘Madam Jilseth, would that fall foul of Aldabreshin strictures against using magic in their domains?’

  ‘Arguably not the scrying, Archmage, if that was worked from Hadrumal. However—’ she raised her voice as Taine opened his mouth to speak, ‘—wizardry confining ships to Archipelagan waters would be considered a gross violation of the natural order that delivers omens and portents. From highest to lowest, my Lord Archmage, the Aldabreshi would be outraged.’

  Planir looked unblinking at the barons below the dais. ‘Which would you prefer to face, my lords? Raids by these corsairs or the wrath of uncounted Aldabreshin warlords?’

  Lord Blancass spoke for the first time, sneering. ‘Archipelagan superstitions—’

  ‘Their beliefs are as sincere as your own.’ Planir didn’t grant him the courtesy of his title. ‘Since no one can know the absolute truth of whatever lies beyond this life, I suggest you refrain from mockery.’

  ‘There are merchants from Relshaz to Col who would have an interest in your proposal,’ Jilseth remarked. ‘If the Aldabreshi suspect northern magic at work in their islands, they will close their waters to northern traders.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Planir agreed.

  Taine’s jaw jutted belligerently. ‘You invited us to come all this way merely to say once again that you will not help us?’

  Planir looked steadily at him. ‘I invite you to consider every possible consequence so that you understand my decision. Do you know that wizardry is a capital offence among the Aldabreshi? A warlord must flay a mage alive to purify a domain polluted by sorcery. Which of my pupils or apprentices must suffer that fate for your sake, if they encounter outraged Archipelagans in Relshaz or Col who would knock them senseless and load them with chains?’

  ‘They would not dare!’ Baron Blancass was outraged. ‘Barbarians!’

  ‘Really?’ Planir mused. ‘No Aldabreshin would hang a starving man for stealing from a household with plenty to spare yet you would sanction that punishment, my lords, and the Archipelagans would call you barbarians for doing so.’

  As the other barons gaped, Saldiray rose to his feet. ‘What of the consequences of doing nothing? Their first raids have already ravaged three villages between Attar and Claithe not a handful of days after the equinox.’

  ‘And the villagers?’ queried Planir. ‘Haven’t they found sanctuary inland?’

  Jilseth didn’t need to see Saldiray and Taine exchange a sheepish glance. Flood Mistress Troanna had been scrying the Caladhrian coast since Cloud Master Rafrid first told Planir that the sailing season had begun.

  ‘If our people retreat from the coast, we risk ceding a permanent foothold to these vermin.’ Baron Taine glared at the Archmage. ‘We had to burn out one such nest in the Linney estuary last winter.’

  ‘Successfully?’ Planir nodded. ‘As I have always said, I have every confidence in Caladhrian strength of arms.’

  ‘So this has been a long journey and a tiresome voyage for no worthwhile return.’ Blancass rose to his feet, not bothering to conceal his anger. ‘Shall we catch the next tide, my lords?’

  Jilseth had to curb a frown. She hadn’t expected such an open lack of respect even when the lords realised that Planir would not yield.

  ‘A moment more if you please, my lords, my lord Archmage.’ The only baron who’d remained silent thus far stood up.

  ‘Baron Licanin.’ Planir smiled. ‘I confess I’m curious to know why you’re here. Granted, the River Tantel is navigable for thirty leagues or so inland but your estates must be twice that distance from the sea, up by the headwaters.’

  Jilseth was pleased to see the Archmage’s omniscience gave Saldiray and Blancass pause for thought. Then Licanin’s reply drove such thoughts from her mind.

  ‘I am concerned with the Halferan estates. My own wife is sister to the baron’s widow.’

  Planir nodded. ‘My sympathies on her loss.’

  ‘Baron Halferan wasn’t lost,’ hissed Baron Blancass. ‘He was murdered by corsairs.’

  Licanin shook his grey head. ‘My wife’s sister has lost far more than her husband.’

  To Jilseth’s growing bemusement the barons looked horribly embarrassed.

  Planir leaned forward in his chair. ‘Please explain.’

  ‘Baron Halferan was killed by corsairs a year and a season ago.’ Licanin cleared his throat. ‘A grant of guardianship was presented to the following Summer Solstice Parliament, according to custom. A mere formality to ensure the care of Halferan’s widow and children. The document was supposedly signed by Halferan himself and his neighbours attested to the fitness of his designate.’

  He hesitated before continuing with visible effort. ‘But I have recently learned this supposed guardian was a stranger to Halferan’s wife. The grant of guardianship was a forgery. Worse, this man robbed the barony and has now disappeared.’

  Now Jilseth understood. No wonder the barons looked so mortified, if their parliament had been so thoroughly duped.

  ‘A vile crime,’ agreed Planir, ‘though what—’

  ‘Wizards have long sought out the lost.’ Licanin looked up. ‘People and property. I have already asked a mage in Claithe for assistance. He was unable to find the man so suggested I seek help in Hadrumal.’

  Planir nodded slowly. ‘It’s not always an easy task, for any wizard to find someone unknown to them. What is his name?’

  ‘Minelas Estadin,’ said Licanin.

  Planir raised a hand to clarify his question. ‘The man you seek, not the mage.’

  Licanin shook his head impatiently. ‘That is the man’s name, the thief’s.’

  ‘Forgive me, I misunderstood.’ Planir apologised swiftly. ‘What can you tell me about him?’

  Jilseth s
at, stony faced. This must be some different Minelas. If uncommon, the name wasn’t unknown in Caladhria and she’d never known him claim Estadin as his family.

  Licanin’s expression lightened at the Archmage’s encouragement. ‘Zurenne tells me, my wife’s sister, that his accent was of Ensaimin. He mentioned a childhood home in Grynth.’

  That did away with Jilseth’s hope of some harmless coincidence. Now she was desperate to learn what else this baron knew about Minelas.

  ‘He lingered through the summer seasons and into For-Autumn last year.’ Guilt clouded Licanin’s face. ‘He installed his own henchmen in the household and threatened Lady Zurenne and her children. It wasn’t till after he left that we learned of these deceits.’

  So that’s where Minelas had hidden while she’d been searching. She had been so close!

  ‘When did he leave?’ Jilseth couldn’t help asking.

  ‘You’ve heard nothing since For-Autumn?’ Planir reclaimed Lord Licanin’s attention at once.

  ‘Not a word all winter,’ the grey-haired baron admitted. ‘But Lady Zurenne is tormented by the thought that he may yet return. She is distraught, my lord Archmage.’

  It took all Jilseth’s strength of will to sit still, as expressionless as a statue. If Licanin knew of Minelas’s wizardry, he would say something, if only to lay these debts of dishonour at the Archmage’s feet.

  ‘Then the scent is cold.’ Planir shook his head dubiously. ‘But if this man spent some seasons in Halferan there may yet be something there tied to him. That could anchor a scrying spell. We can certainly try,’ he agreed with every appearance of goodwill. ‘Madam Jilseth, please see these lords and their ship safely back to Claithe with the next tide. Then you should travel to Halferan with Lord Licanin.’

  ‘I will be glad to help, if I can.’ Jilseth strove to match the Archmage’s calm and the sincerity of his deceptive assurances.

  ‘This – lady wizard?’ If Blancass was the only one who spoke, the rest were looking askance.

  ‘I have every faith in her considerable skills, as should you, my lords.’ Planir rose to his feet. ‘Please, until your ship sails, take your ease in the Boar and Elder tavern. Tell Master Sasper that you’re my guests. Madam Jilseth will join you once she and I have discussed how best to search for your thief.’

  Planir clapped his hands and one half of the hall’s double door opened. A burly man in a midnight blue tunic looked through. ‘Archmage?’

  ‘Tornauld, kindly escort our noble guests to the Boar and Elder. See that they get a private parlour,’ Planir added.

  ‘Of course, Archmage.’ Tornauld bowed respectfully to the Caladhrians who were getting to their feet, surprised at the Archmage’s unexpected affability.

  Jilseth breathed more easily. Tornauld’s wits were as sharp as a winter wind. He would realise Planir didn’t want these visitors adding anything to the potent mix of Hadrumal’s gossip.

  As the door closed behind the noble lords, she gave way to her frustration. ‘I could have put a stop to Minelas’s plundering! If only I had followed the lodestone to Halferan’s manor instead of into the marsh,’ she castigated herself.

  ‘Only mainlanders think wizards are infallible.’ Planir surprised her with a grin before looking deadly serious. ‘You would have discovered this petty deceit but not his graver crimes in betraying Lord Halferan to the corsairs and taking their coin in return for his magic. Do you think he would have allowed you to search out the truth in the marshes, once you had discovered him installing himself as lord of that manor?’

  Jilseth was faintly insulted. ‘No mage with an air affinity could disrupt my necromancy.’

  Planir shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t have attacked your spells. He’d have tried to murder you too, with magecraft or a knife in the back, if the alternative was being unmasked as Lord Halferan’s killer and a renegade mage. Would you have been ready for that?’

  Jilseth wished that she could say so. Honestly? She instinctively recoiled at the thought of one mage killing another. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to contemplate.

  ‘But they don’t seem to know anything of his magic.’ That was one consolation she could cling to. She looked at Planir, at a loss. ‘Why should I go to Halferan and act out some masquerade? What do you want me to do there?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of these chance discoveries of new twists to Minelas’s treachery,’ Planir said grimly. ‘Let’s learn everything we can from Halferan’s lady and from whatever bodies still lie out in the marsh. Let’s find out if anyone there has the slightest suspicion that wizardry has been so vilely misused.’

  ‘If I do discover someone who knew of Minelas’s magic?’ What did Planir expect her to do then?

  ‘We’ll spread that straw when we fear a stumble.’ Planir smiled once again, at Jilseth’s surprise hearing this homely wisdom. ‘I don’t know. What we’ll do will depend on who it is and exactly what they know. Kalion may imagine I spend my days plotting and planning for every possible twist of events and their outcome but I see no reason to waste my time as he does.’

  Jilseth wasn’t overly reassured. ‘Shall I tell Halferan’s widow that she need not fear? That Minelas is dead?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Planir was adamant. ‘That’s an arrow we’ll keep in our quiver.’

  ‘But we will tell her?’ Jilseth appalled by her error. If only she had gone to the manor, this woman and her children would have been spared whatever grief Minelas had caused them.

  After a barely perceptible delay, Planir nodded. ‘When we’re certain there’s no scandal smouldering. If there is, we may need exactly that news to snuff out the flames.’

  Jilseth nodded reluctantly. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’ If it did, some rumour would surely find its way to Kalion’s ear and the Hearth Master wouldn’t hesitate to use this fresh failing against the Archmage.

  He had already challenged Planir before the Council of Wizards over Minelas’s crimes in Lescar, even though Sorgrad’s brother had killed the renegade before he could make good on his boasts to win the war for Triolle. Jilseth closed her eyes with a shudder at unbidden recollection of that bloody scene.

  ‘It’s unlikely you’ll find any cause for concern,’ Planir said sombrely. ‘If Minelas had worked any magecraft through the summer, your lodestone would have found him hiding in Halferan. I don’t doubt that wizardry’s efficacy and you shouldn’t doubt your talents.’

  The Archmage sighed. ‘From what you discovered last year, he only used his magic to kill Lord Halferan in order to steal his barony and to enslave those men for corsair gold. Who could have witnessed such an outrage, who wouldn’t have already stepped forward to shout it from the rooftops?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Reef Eagle, off the coast of Caladhria

  16th of Aft-Spring

  CORRAIN WAS BIDING his time. He ignored the stench of sweat and piss, of vomit from the newcomers. Despite his own nausea in the heavy seas, he was grateful for every wave sluicing through the oar ports in the bulwark. That washed away some of the sloshing vileness. He hauled steadily on the oar polished smooth by countless dead men’s hands.

  ‘Where did we land?’ Hosh wasn’t expecting Corrain to know. He just wanted someone to share his desolation. So near and yet so far from a coast that might have once been home.

  Corrain answered him nevertheless, albeit with a curt rebuke. ‘Quiet.’ The last thing he wanted was the whip master’s brutal attention drawn this way. If either of them were flogged, it could be the death of them.

  The skies were darkening and the overseers were lighting lamps at the galley’s prow and stern. The galley master had decreed the Reef Eagle would row on into the night for some reason. Corrain looked up to see the Greater Moon at its full, though the Lesser was dark. The last time, both moons had been at their opposite phase as the corsairs had come pillaging on the first raids of the season.

  Now Corrain understood. Five days out from their Archipelagan anchor
age and once again, the raiders were making good use of the highest tides prompted by the partner-dance of the moons. He vaguely recalled Captain Gefren mentioning such a pattern, not that corsair raids were ever certain and anyway, the Caladhrians ashore had no way of knowing where the bastards would strike.

  Had anyone expected the Reef Eagle, when the galley rode the surging waters inshore the previous day? As chance would have it, dawn was breaking over the muddy bay. The raiders, Aldabreshi, mainlander and mongrel, had slid down ropes slung from the prow, striding through the shallow waters. Too soon, as the gusting wind wheeled, Corrain and Hosh heard their hapless victims shrieking.

  Who were these people, roused from sleep to find a curved sword at their throats? Chained to their oars, the rowers would never know. The Reef Eagle’s raiders hadn’t brought any slaves back to throw in the hold. Corrain was relieved, much as he would have liked some notion of where they had landed.

  He braced his feet against the board jutting from the deck and pulled along with his bench mates and wondered where they were going now. Heading back to the Archipelago, he’d have expected them to ride the powerful ebb sweeping the boat laden with booty back out to the open seas. But now he could smell salt marsh and hear night birds’ cries achingly evocative of home.

  The whip master called out something to his overseers. To Corrain’s surprise, the galley master came forward from his seat in the stern, heading for the prow. One of the galley’s crew hurried after him carrying a coil of rope with a heavy weight at the end and regular knots along its length.

  The whip master’s whistle signalled the flute player to lessen the pace of the oars. Soon they were barely making headway. Now those raiders skilled with the short, simple wooden bows which the Aldabreshi favoured in battles at sea were keeping watch at prow and stern. A night raid? Corrain had heard of such abominations when he’d served in Halferan’s guard, but he’d never been an unwilling participant on the Reef Eagle.

  The corsairs were calling out to each other, their words short and precise. Hosh spoke quickly under cover of sudden commotion in the prow. ‘We’re going ashore to take on water. They’re taking soundings with that lead to find the channel.’