The sweet tea was calming Jemeryl’s nausea and thawing her inner chill. She exchanged a sad smile with Vine. Orrago’s grasp of reality was more tenuous than usual.
For a while, the elderly sorcerer rambled on. She tapped Vine’s arm. “Kally, can you go and find Druse for me?”
“Ma’am, don’t you remember? Druse is dead.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course he’s not dead. I talked to him only this morning.” However, a puzzled frown grew on Orrago’s face, undermining the conviction of her words. Frog gave a forlorn croak. Abruptly, Orrago put down her mug and stood up. She scooped Frog from the armrest and dropped him in a pocket. “I’ve got to go now.”
It was anyone’s guess what was happening with Orrago’s jumbled wits, but at the very second she pulled the door open, Levannue appeared outside. The door opening in her face clearly startled Levannue. She stared through the doorway, her expression of surprise quickly changing to one of censure as she saw the two junior sorcerers.
“You know you’re not supposed to be in here. Who gave you permission?” Levannue stepped past Orrago into the room.
“Neame sent us here, ma’am,” Vine replied.
“Why?”
“I’m keeping an eye on Jemeryl. There was an accident in the cellar.”
“Was someone being careless? What happened?”
“I think, ma’am, it might be better if you ask Neame for the details.”
“I’m asking you.” The senior sorcerer locked eyes with Vine, blatantly trying to intimidate.
“Neame was in charge, and she knows more about what happened than me. She’s the one you should ask, ma’am.”
The silence dragged out uncomfortably. “Hmmp. Well, as long as the situation is under control.” Levannue’s tone was too sharp to count as backing down, but she was apparently ready to let it drop. Her manner softened, and she linked her arm with Orrago. “Would you like to come with me?”
The door closed, and Vine gave a sigh of relief. “And there you have a object lesson in school politics. Levannue will stick her nose into things that don’t concern her, and if you’re not careful, you can end up on the wrong side of Neame.”
“I know. I got caught in the middle when the two of them had a squabble before.”
“When was that?”
“In the hospital a few days ago.”
“Was that when the woman with marsh plague was brought in?”
“You heard about it?”
“Of course.” Vine sounded indignant.
Jemeryl’s laughter turned to coughing. The tea had relieved her nausea, but her throat felt as if she had been gargling with broken glass.
Vine stood anxiously by Jemeryl’s shoulder until the coughing subsided. “You’re sounding like a candidate for the hospital yourself.”
“If the plague gets out of hand again, we could all end up there,” Jemeryl said between gasps.
“It won’t. We know how to deal with it now.” Vine dropped into Orrago’s vacated chair. “I don’t think I could face going through it again.”
“It must have been chaos here.”
“It was. I was one of the first to get sick. By the time I was better, half the school was down. I was nursing three whole wards on my own, though there were fewer patients left each day. The weaker ones didn’t stand a chance. Moragar was the most senior sorcerer left standing. He was running the place. Part of the reason they made him head librarian was that he did such a good job. He went to pieces when Druse died, but by then, Levannue had recovered.” Vine adopted a confidential manner—always a sign that she was hunting gossip. “We had just about settled down when the news came about Aris.”
“It happened out in Walderim, you said.” Jemeryl did her best to act like someone pretending to be indifferent.
“Yes.”
Jemeryl left a significant pause. “I don’t suppose it was near Oshen, in the north?”
“No. It was just outside Scathberg.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve been there?”
“No.”
“You know someone there?”
“Er...not quite.” Jemeryl made her voice drop. “An ex-lover of mine, another apprentice at Lyremouth, he came from Oshen. He used to talk about the town....promised he’d take me there. We’re not together anymore, but—”
“You’re still keen on him?”
Jemeryl shrugged, as if avoiding an answer.
“What’s he like?”
Jemeryl averted her face and whispered, “I’d rather not talk about him.”
“Oh, right. Still feeling sore?”
Jemeryl gave another miserable shrug. Strictly speaking, she had not lied. However, it was a safe bet that the inferences Vine drew from her words would be complete fiction. Failed love affairs were Vine’s favourite topic for gossip. Jemeryl could almost see the cogs going around in her head as she added up two and two. By now, Vine was probably past the conjecture that the affair with the mercenary was started on the rebound and on to more elaborate hypotheses, safely diverted from the truth. Just as long as Jemeryl said nothing else.
Unfortunately, Jemeryl desperately wanted more answers. Who was with Aris? Where were they? And who came back with what? To ask would only set Vine off on the hunt again. It was frustrating. Vine was the best source of information in the school, but Jemeryl dared not let rumours spread that she had an interest in the events in Walderim three years earlier.
They were draining the last of their tea when Neame returned. Vine stood up. Jemeryl made to do likewise, but her knees gave way.
Neame put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Stay still. I guess I don’t need to ask how you’re feeling.”
“I’ll be all right in a minute.”
“It’ll take a bit longer than that. But your aura’s recovering nicely. I think you should lie down in your room. Vine will get some porters and a stretcher.” Neame’s tone allowed no argument.
Jemeryl felt conspicuous being carried to the juniors sorcerers’ quarters, with Vine in attendance, but it was a relief to be laid on her own bed with the shutters closed.
Once the porters had gone, Jemeryl gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about the accident. It was my fault. I should have been more careful how I put the tray down.”
“And I should have been looking where I was going,” Vine replied. “Don’t worry. Neame wasn’t angry. Just as well. It takes a vast amount of provocation to get in Neame’s bad books, but if ever you do, you’re stuck there for life.”
Vine shut the door, leaving Jemeryl alone to ponder that final thought.
*
Tevi’s slow footsteps rang hollow on the flagstones. There was no point rushing her solitary patrol. Dusk was gathering. The horizon was shrouded in misty purple. Across the bay, a lone fishing craft was returning with its catch, while high above, the first faint stars dotted the darkening sky. The moon, well past its full, hung above the water. It had a translucent sheen in the last remnants of daylight.
On reaching the end of the quay, Tevi balanced on the edge and looked down. The tide was out. Water slopped against the pockmarked stones twenty feet below. Farther along the shoreline, away from the deepwater harbour, banks of sand and shingle broke the waves, hissing as the surf sucked over them.
Tevi turned and strolled back, passing the dark hulks of moored ships. There was little to do. All the vessels currently docked had been checked, and with low tide, nothing could move for a couple of hours. The customs officers on duty were responsible solely for ensuring that nothing was smuggled aboard and limiting the havoc caused by gangs of drunken sailors.
One such group was assembling on the foredeck of the nearest ship. The sailors laughed among themselves. They were currently well-behaved. The night had not yet started, and most were reasonably sober, although a visit onshore to sample the pleasures of Ekranos would undoubtedly change that.
As Tevi passed by, one sailor leant over the railing. “Hey, officer. I’ve go
t some really unusual merchandise here you might like to inspect personally.” Grasping the rigging, the sailor leapt onto the rail and posed provocatively, the innuendo clear.
Tevi looked up and smiled. She was already accustomed to the good-natured verbal sparring of the docks. “If it’s what I think, then it’s readily available in town and doesn’t require customs inspection. Unless it’s malfunctioning and might create a public nuisance.”
“Would you like to come below decks and help me test it out?”
“You don’t need me. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practise testing it out on your own.”
Unperturbed at being beaten in the battle of gibes, the sailor joined in the general laughter before jumping back onto the deck to join her companions.
Tevi’s patrol reached a gap between the moored ships. She paused and looked back along the dock. The group from the ship was heading into town in search of an evening’s entertainment and maybe someone to test the sailor’s merchandise—at a price. Tevi shook her head in bemusement, but it set her thoughts drifting to Jemeryl.
From where she stood, Tevi had a clear view of the school. The jumble of silhouettes crowded the cliff tops. Their next meeting was two days away. In the meantime, she had no way of knowing how the search for the renegade sorcerer was going. It left her desperately uneasy. Her eyes fixed onto the distant buildings as if trying to drill through the walls.
“Dominates the town, doesn’t it?” An elderly sailor had noticed the focus of her attention.
Tevi recalled herself. “Pardon?”
“The school up there. Dominates all of Ekranos.”
“I suppose the town has grown up in its shadow.”
The sailor was dressed in the local style—a loose-yoked smock with embroidered patterns, barely visible beneath an assortment of stains. Despite his clothes, the sailor spoke with the wide rolling vowels of the lands north of Lyremouth. His face was deeply etched. Calluses on his hands showed the effect of a lifetime’s work on the seas.
The sailor folded his arms and leaned against a mooring post, clearly readying himself for a long chat. “No. Ekranos was here long before the school came. It used to be an independent port. Pretty rich, too, as long as whichever sorcerer ruled here was strong enough. It could control trade on the river and through the straits.”
“What made it join the Protectorate?”
“About three hundred years back, the ghost riders appeared out in the Eastern Ocean. They killed the sorcerer prince, so Ekranos swore allegiance to the Coven. It was a case of urgently needing the protection of the Protectorate. The school was originally built to secure the Straits of Perithia against anything that might want to sail in.”
“I thought they were herbalists up there.”
“They are now. But they’re a later arrival. For the first one hundred years, it was purely a defensive outpost. Then new castles were built farther up the straits, and the healers moved into the old buildings. They said they could get better supplies here. But I reckon what they really wanted was a bit of independence from the rest of the Coven. There’s always been friction. If it went to a vote of the ordinary citizens, the healers would run the Coven. In practice, it don’t work out like that. But it’s true the supplies are better here than at Lyremouth. Down south are the rain forests. I’ve been told more plants grow there than in all the rest of the world put together. Mind you, I’ve seen some strange things in other places—flowers that eat birds and the like. I’ve sailed way beyond Cape Tallis in my time. You wouldn’t credit some of the things I’ve seen.”
After a month on the harbour, Tevi recognised the introduction to a sailor’s tall yarn. It was not something she was in the mood for.
“It’s good the herbalists can get everything they need. I can see they wouldn’t want to go trotting around the world, picking things themselves,” she cut in quickly, then smiled and started to walk on.
The sailor did not take the hint. “Oh, the sorcerers still go travelling now and again, trying to find new specimens. Though I admit most aren’t keen on it. The deputy, Neame—she’s the one who travels the most, and I reckon that’s down to a dislike of the company in the school. I hear she’s planning a trip out east next year, and she had a long trek up and down Walderim three years back. Was gone for the best part of a year. Then she had that shorter trip down the Dhaliki.”
Tevi stopped in her tracks. If what the sailor said was true, it could be very important. However, she should not seem too eager. She switched the action of her aborted departure into a stretch, then matched the sailor’s causal stance and let her gaze drift across the roofs.
“Do all the rest of the sorcerers stick in Ekranos, then?” Tevi tried to sound as if merely making polite conversation.
“Well, some juniors are forever going off in the hope of finding something new and making a name for themselves. There’s a couple on the Sea Witch right now. But by the time they get older, they tend to stay put. Bramell has been to Lyremouth twice since he took the headship, but it wasn’t to do with herbs. Just as well. He couldn’t tell a cabbage from a carnation, even if he ate it. Orrago was quite a traveller in her time. Of course, she’s not up to it now. Levannue is the only other senior who’s set foot outside Ekranos recently, and that was just a quick visit to see her family the year before last, which was odd, because I didn’t think she got on with them. But I’ve heard she’s going off again—heading up north in a month or so.” He held up a finger. “No, wait. I tell a lie. Roddis also went off last spring, but she’d been gone weeks before anyone noticed. She’s too quiet. Always gets overlooked.”
“You know a lot about the sorcerers.” Doubts concerning the information’s accuracy grew in Tevi’s mind. The sailor’s claimed knowledge of school matters was far more intimate than seemed likely, even allowing for the dockside grapevine.
The sailor smiled, clearly taking her words as a compliment. “Up until last autumn, I was first mate on the Sea Witch. That’s the school’s own ship. But I’m getting too old, so I chucked it in for a shore job. I’ve known all the senior sorcerers since they were youngsters, except for Uwien, the newcomer. I still see Neame from time to time, and we have a little chat. She’s decent, as sorcerers go. The only one you can really trust. Don’t get me wrong, I respect sorcerers, but they don’t think like us. You never know where you are with them. Take Bramell, for instance. I used—”
The peace of the dock was shattered abruptly. Voices rose, becoming more aggressive by the second. If it was not a fight, it would be soon. All across the dock, heads turned towards the source of the commotion: an animated group clustered around a ship’s gangplank. Already, a ring of onlookers was forming. More people appeared on deck, hanging over the rails to see what was happening.
“I’d better go and sort it out.” Tevi was moving even before she spoke.
“Take care. It sounds like trouble.”
“It’s probably just some drunk. I’ll see you around.”
Tevi jogged down the quay, noting with relief that another of her mercenaries colleagues was also converging on the rumpus, making an exaggerated show of the heavy baton they carried. Tevi sighed. It was going to be another busy night on the Ekranos docks.
*
The section devoted to nonmedicinal herbalism and psychic studies was situated behind the hospital. A dark corridor ran the length of its main building. Jemeryl stood at one end and considered the eight doorways. There was nothing to identify which one she wanted. I guess mind reading would come under psychic studies, she thought wryly, but nameplates wouldn’t hurt.
Both junior sorcerers who normally worked in this section were busy elsewhere, and Levannue had urgent need of assistance. Jemeryl had been lent from the hospital, but her instructions had only gone as far as telling her to report to this building. She tried three doors before meeting with success. At the sound of it opening, Levannue looked up from the instruments on the desk.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Neame has sent me.
You asked for help?”
After subjecting Jemeryl to a critical appraisal, Levannue twisted several sixth-dimensional power tensors into an elemental knot. “Can you dissipate that?”
Jemeryl took a sharp breath. Levannue’s tone was not aggressive, but it was definitely confrontational. However, the test was simple. Jemeryl slipped the knot free and allowed the trapped forces to flow away.
“Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.” Levannue sounded satisfied. “Though it must be pure luck that Neame sent someone competent in the sixth dimension.”
Jemeryl thought it wiser not to reply. True, many sorcerers in Ekranos were weak with sixth-dimensional forces; their skills generally lay with the life auras of the fifth, but the situation was not quite as bad as implied. Maybe Levannue was assuming that Neame would not put much effort into meeting her rival’s request. Yet surely Levannue must know that the deputy principal would not risk the school’s safety over personal animosity. Neame had even taken advice from Erlam about who to send.
“Take these and come with me.” Levannue’s tone was brisk.
Jemeryl grabbed the items indicated and followed with haste. She had the feeling Levannue would not tolerate laziness or negligence.
Two witches were already making preparations at the node point. A section of the school shields had become unbalanced and needed realignment. The witches were clearly both adept in the sixth but blind to other paranormal dimensions. They would be responsible for balancing the elemental forces while Levannue made the delicate repairs. Jemeryl’s role was as an intermediary. With Levannue so close to the node, it was essential that the final link be controlled by someone who could separate her life aura from the flux. Jemeryl tried not to grin, but she was looking forward to the challenge.
The job lived up to her expectations. It was easily her most enjoyable project since she arrived at the school. Sixth-dimensional magic had always been her favourite. Levannue worked quickly and deftly. Within the hour, the realignment was complete. Jemeryl stepped back, feeling both exhausted and faintly surprised. She had been so engrossed that only now did she realise how draining it had been.
The Traitor and the Chalice Page 9
