Human Mage: Book Three of the Highmage's Plight

by D. H. Aire

  “One day, reunited,” the Empress promised. Se’and fought back her own tears.

  George glanced at the pile of folios as the chorus of elvin voices rang throughout the chamber. He looked through the foreign index coding and muttered, “Staff, this looks like a job for you.”

  :With pleasure,: replied the computer.

  Opening the nearest folio, George muttered, “Begin scan.”

  The staff flared, :Acknowledged... Next.: George tossed the folio to the startled Herald Lowell, opening the next, focusing on the diagram and runish text.

  :Next.: Lowell could not fold the folios fast enough as the human mage seemingly glanced through one after another in rapid succession. When the Empress returned, she noted the open pile of folios Lowell was struggling to refold. She stared, “The proper folio is not here. In fact, I judge that there are three missing, altogether.”

  “What?!” the Empress and her herald exclaimed as one.

  The coach moved across the cobbles with the steady clop, clop, clop of horses’ hooves. Aaprin clung precariously to the undercarriage. He had feared that he might never escape the palace grounds until he saw the Academy coach loading the apprentices. It was the matter of but a moment to fall in behind them as they were ushered across the courtyard. The Imperial Guards took careful count of the apprentices as they boarded, security not yet fully alerted to events within.

  That led Aaprin to the desperate chance he had taken.

  The coach jolted suddenly, making his hold momentarily loosen. Gasping for breath, he shifted position, arms and legs straddling the coach’s frame. He breathed a sigh of relief as the coach slowed and turned down the lane toward the Academy gates.

  It had taken every ounce of courage he could muster to scurry under the coach and reach this curious means of escape. The Imperial Guards were just about to check the coach one last time before letting it go, when an officer urgently shouted for them.

  The Academy coach sped from the palace, as the gates behind them were suddenly sealed, and a massive search of the grounds begun. Drawing to a halt within the Academy courtyard, apprentices disembarked. Masters called them to their quarters, with the least amount of noise they could manage— there were younger students asleep to consider.

  Aaprin waited only long enough to have a sense that no one was paying particular attention, then awkwardly dropped to the ground. The coachman released the brake and urged his horses forward. Aaprin scurried to his feet and fled into the shadows. Breathing hard, he paused to rub the circulation back into arms and legs.

  Now what? he thought to himself, then saw the answer right there before him. “Psst.”

  Witness on the Lam

  2

  Rexil slowed his step at the sound, half turning to lag behind the other apprentices as the coach moved to the stables.

  “Psst.” Rexil heard, turned, squinting into the shadows before his eyes widened at the sight of Aaprin gesturing to him urgently. Muttering under his breath, the apprentice darted out of the well lit courtyard and joined the frightened looking Aaprin.

  “However did you get here?”

  “Shh, quiet,” Aaprin grimly urged, “I got here, uh, pretty much the same way as you.”

  “Huh?” Rexil rasped as quietly as he could manage. “What’s going on? You look scared.”

  “That’s because I am. Lord Senason’s been murdered,” Aaprin answered as if that explained everything.

  “What are you talking about?! No one just kills a high elvin magelord— and he’s a Highmage Candidate besides!”

  “Not so loud!” Aaprin rasped, desperately frightened that they might be discovered.

  “But what has that got to do with your being here?”

  “I think I may know who, uh, murdered him.” Rexil gaped as Aaprin stared out into the courtyard. “I need your help, Rexil. You’re the only one I can think of who can help me get downTier.”

  With a sick feeling, Rexil stared at Aaprin, “Okay, this can’t be any worse than some of Revit and Terus’s shenanigans... So how do you think I can help?”

  It was the dead of night when Aaprin finally reached the Seventh Tier. Rexil had helped him to borrow servant robes left in the Academy laundry. Watching from the shadows, Rexil saw him leave the grounds much as any of the other servants might leave unnoticed, returning home after a long day’s work.

  No one questioned him as he walked downTier. In his pocket was all the coin Rexil could spare. He prayed it would be enough to bribe the proper men stationed at the lower Tier gates, when no other means downTier was possible. Aaprin knew several desperate means as well, knowing that the city vigil would, by this time, already be alerted to stop anyone suspicious.

  Servants were beneath notice in the upper Tiers. Only in the successively lower Tiers would matters grow worse. Thus, he paid the necessary bribes, while his heartbeat raced. He only hoped that he truly could make it to safety.

  It was embarrassing, Lucian thought, looking at the girl wrapped only in a blanket. He hugged her across the shoulders, knowing she was shivering and cold, seated at the edge of the bed.

  Privately cursing her fool father, Rolf, Irin thought, it was not enough that her father had taken to locking them into his room from the outside until morning. He had taken all the damn coal for the small furnace.

  She shook her head, knowing none of this was Lucian’s fault. He’d argued with her father day and night. “She’s still only a child!” he had yelled in frustration as her father activated the ward he had brought that caged the elf, then Rolf had stolen her clothes after her evening bath and dragged her to this room.

  “Old enough, Lucian!” her father yelled as he slammed the door and barred it. “Fulfill your pledge! I’ll have her elfblood child to raise as my own! I’ll be free of this foul life!”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “You will. You’ve no choice. I saw that man return for your answer today. How long do you think you can stall him without my aid?”

  He had stared at the door. Lucian had slept on the floor that night and likely would again tonight, Irin knew, staring at him, bleakly, tears in her eyes. When she spoke to him the first time in this room it was as if he were a stranger and not a friend she had known all her life.

  “I know about you and the ladies,” she had said to his deep chagrin. “How many elfbloods have you fathered for the pay?”

  “If you know so much, you know that the money is Rolf’s not mine.

  “I know why,” she replied lamely, then angrily rasped, “But I’ll never understand why you agreed to— this with me!”

  Crying piteously, she rocked back and forth, cradling her legs to her chest, head bowed, near naked and frightened by her father’s worsening threats every time he brought them food and water.

  “I’ll have that elfblood child, Lucian!” Rolf shouted, “We can end this once you’ve fulfilled your pledge to me!”

  He shrugged, yelling back at Rolf, “I’ll not take a child! That was part of our bargain!”

  “Old enough, I say!” her father shrilled back.

  Sitting there on the bed, she sighed, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight,” she muttered, tearfully, while her father railed at them as he tried to espy them through a crack in the far wall.

  “Really? I don’t mind at all. It’s not like the mattress is particularly soft and I’m naturally warmer than you are. I’ll continue sleeping on the floor.”

  She shook her head and slept on the floor. Later that night, she sat up uncomfortable from lying upon the floor. Her tears dried. Lucian looked so much younger than her father even though she knew Aaprin was closer to her age. Even wrapped in a blanket she was so cold; and colder in her soul. She announced, “He’ll continue to watch us through that peephole— my, my mother told me...”

  Lucian instantly woke and sat up. “I know. He’s crept up and peered in a number of times. I’ve heard him... I thought it best not to tell you.”

  “What am I to do?” she muttered
desperately, glancing at him.

  “I’ve told him his threats will do him no good. I’ve warned him that if he lays a hand to you I’m free of all debt to him.”

  She shook her head, “He’ll never give up. Why didn’t you just leave? He couldn’t stop you.”

  He shut his eyes tight, “He could… through my son. I dare not leave until I’ve no other choice.”

  “I can’t stand this,” she said, trembling.

  He shook his head, thinking of the one other thing that might ease their burden and spite Rolf at the same time.

  With a mischievous elvin smile, he mentioned, “Well, we could let him think he was succeeding. After all, I can hear him coming down the hall easily enough.”

  Irin just stared at him, then stiffened.

  “Do you trust me? I think this can get him to reconsider his plan.”

  She wondering if this might be some trick— yet Lucian had never acted deceitfully to her in his life.

  “What have you in mind?” Hope, fear, and vengeance all rolled into the sound of that question.

  It was a relatively short time later that Lucian strained to hear Rolf’s steps. He nodded to the wide-eyed Irin, who positioned herself as they had planned, the shadows and blanket concealing much.

  They then began rocking the bed, making quiet noises. The scrape of the opened peephole came distinctly to Lucian’s hearing. He kissed Irin’s cheek, signaling her.

  She began to moan. They kept up the noise long enough for him to hear Rolf groan before turning quickly away, heading back down the hall.

  Lucian paused and sighed. Irin’s gaze blazed with anger as she cupped her hands to her mouth and moaned as loud as she could. Rolf’s bedroom door slammed resoundingly.

  “Serves him right,” she muttered vindictively, then astonished him and herself by kissing Lucian fiercely on the lips. “Thank you.”

  He looked at her oddly, “Quite all right.”

  It was much later that Irin heard the creak of footsteps and nudged Lucian awake. She hugged him gleefully, “This time it’s my show.”

  He nodded blearily as she tossed the blanket down beside the bed, the faint evening light from the roof window outlining their bodies. Pulling him close, she softly moaned, “Oh,” and took his crooked hand and placed it on her hip.

  As Lucian stared a bit incredulous by her performance he heard the sudden click of the lock as the door was opened.

  “Oh, oh,” she moaned, desperately fighting not to laugh. This would certainly spite her father; and the look on Lucian’s face even now!

  The faint hall lamp lit them perfectly. She smiled, delighted, knowing what her father could not ignore— his dream all but realized. Lucian blanched as she turned to glance at her father, he who would sell her so, seemingly in the height of passion even as Lucian gasped, “Aaprin!”

  Irin’s eyes went wide and she squealed, diving behind Lucian in stunned incredulity and embarrassment.

  Aaprin was shaking, the ward stone quiescent in his hand, as his father rose half naked from the bed and rushed to his side. “Aaprin! This is not what it seems…”

  Irin grabbed up the pillow feeling the blanket was not enough as well as Aaprin stared in shock.

  “I mean…” Lucian muttered disconcertedly. “Oh, I don’t know what I mean!” Then he noticed how the boy was oddly dressed and the clearly anxious look of him. “What’s wrong? What brought you here during the middle of the night?!”

  “Father?” Aaprin cried, coming out of his stunned paralysis, uncertain but desperate, “I’m in such terrible trouble!”

  Irin realized that the door was truly opened wide. Clutching the blanket, and tossing the pillow away, she ran from the room and down the hall as quickly as she could.

  Lucian hunted out all the money he had stashed about the room, while Aaprin struggled to explain beyond the whispered words, “Lord Senason’s dead and I… I know who killed him.”

  “I’ve got to find a place to hide, Father... I— I didn’t know what else to do be come to you. I’m sorry for— for everything.”

  “You did fine,” Lucian assured him, cradling his meager possessions in his bad hand as he ushered Aaprin out the door and toward the stairs. “We’ll go out through the cellar as you came in, but we must be very quiet.”

  Rolf’s wife came from her room and with a bundle of Lucian’s clothes. “You needn’t worry about Rolf. He took a sleeping draught and will be out for hours. I spiked it double...” she said as Lucian took a shirt from the pile and hastily dressed. “I, I am so sorry, I was only waiting for it to take effect before freeing you both.”

  “I’m sorry, too... and I can no longer stay here,” he replied as he drew his boots from the bundle.

  She nodded as Aaprin watched the interchange, frowning, then they headed downstairs as she reiterated, “Lucian, I’m so sorry!”

  As they hurried down the stairs and reached the storeroom curtain, there was the distinct sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs. Lucian hurriedly shoved Aaprin against the wall.

  “Irin, no!” her mother pleaded.

  “It’s all right. It’s only me!” Irin rasped, turning back to her mother. “I’m going with them. I’m not staying here to have father lock me up to… “

  Her mother winced knowing if she stayed, Rolf would find a way.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” Lucian retorted, seeing her in a rather plain dress, carrying shoes and a bundle,

  Aaprin stared at her wide-eyed as she answered, “I’m going with you, that’s what.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not,” Lucian averred.

  She smiled at him winsomely, “But, my love, how can I let us be separated? You can’t go back on your promise to marry me.”

  Lucian gaped. She smiled all the broader, coming up to the open mouthed Aaprin and caressing his cheek, “I know it may be hard, but you see, we love each other.”

  She pressed the bundle into Aaprin’s stunned arms, shoes atop it, bounding into Lucian’s amazed embrace. Arms dangling about his neck, her bare feet off the floor, she kissed him as Lucian wondered at this nightmare, while his son mutely stared.

  Canting back her head, Lucian read her lips. YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME HERE.

  Lucian swallowed, then grabbed her up and kissed her with a passion that left her breathless and her eyes wide. Tit for tat, he thought as he set her down. “I guess, the family had best be off.”

  Investigating

  3

  It was early morning when George and Se’and finally arrived home. All either wanted was much needed sleep. The Empress had authorized her already interviewed guests to be allowed to leave, once they were thoroughly searched. Even so, George remained at the palace until the last interview was conducted; assured that there was no way the murder weapon could get off the palace grounds by the Captain of the Guard. Without knowing the precise nature of the weapon, George was less certain.

  The Imperial coach they arrived in would be staying; he was not surprised to learn as they disembarked their Imperial escort dismounting. Grumbling, the dwarf, Spiro, led the Imperials to the stables, with a disturbed glance at the exhausted pair. Yet, George missed the full meaning of Spiro’s glance until they entered the house.

  The noise and onrush of people nearly overpowered him. Staff flared as he nearly fell backward into Se’and’s just as surprised arms.

  “Quiet!” Cle’or shouted to the assembled.

  Armed dwarves, Faeryn mages, and assorted others, including an urchin or two, abruptly drew back.

  Balfour called down exhaustedly from the top of the stairs, “Your turn to deal with whatever it is, Je’orj.”

  “Why, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll skip it... Oh, and there are two dozen Imperial soldiers outside. They seem to be at my disposal or some such. Someone be kind enough to offer them food and drink.”

  Terhun watched as Je’orj marched up the stairs, blithely ignoring Stieven’s attention to offer his people’s assistance. Archm
age Abernathy chuckled, glancing at Fitzgerald, “Incredible. The Empress’s granted him Imperial powers. No one will dare to question his right of Candidacy— not and expect it to do any good. Excellent.”

  Terhun coughed, then reiterated loud enough that it was impossible for Je’orj to ignore, “Revit, Terus, you say you’ve no idea where Aaprin might have gone? Truly?”

  George practically paused mid-step and groaned, “Unfair.”

  The Lyai’s agent replied, “Some things cannot wait.”

  “Revit and Terus, come up here,” the human mage called back over his shoulder wearily. Se’and looked at him tiredly.

  He shrugged, “Terhun, you and Abernathy come, too.”

  Cle’or then shooed the others back to the table, where a map of the capital lay strewn, and marked in red indicating the progression of the search. Dwarves and Faeryn quickly swirled back to the table, designating means and progress.

  George tossed aside his cloak as Fri’il turned down the bed. “Get some sleep, Se’and. I can handle this.”

  She looked at Fri’il, then gratefully nodded. “Where’s your skirt?” the younger pregnant woman asked.

  “Just got in the way, like I knew it would,” she mumbled, picking at the buttons as Revit and Terus stared. “Where’s Raven?”

  Fri’il shrugged, “Out there, looking… promised she would not be gone long.”

  George sat down as the rest of the troop entered. “I am not empowered to reveal any facts about the investigation into Lord Senason’s murder.” The host started to argue. Staff flared, bringing instant silence. “Thank you. I sent word that Aaprin may be an important material witness. He certainly saw something and is likely in great personal danger.”

  Terus stated, “He would have come back, if he could have.”

  “I realize that, but I can hazard a number of reasons, under the circumstances, that he might have chosen not to. Be that as it may, you, and Revit come over here.”