Enchanter (Book 7)

by Terry Mancour

  “It’s your first one, you were bound to have problems,” Rondal noted. “Minalan, what’s going to happen when Sire Trefalan doesn’t get the expected levies from Rolone? Or his pay chest? And learns of Lorcus’ triumph?”

  “It’s going to be very interesting. It will depend upon how he learns, I think. But he will probably send a squadron of cavalry to investigate, headed by a trusted lord.”

  “I plan to inform him, actually,” Lorcus said. “Or inform Sire Cullien. I’ll send him copies of my declaration of war and intention to reprise by herald, then I’ll send him a sheaf of Writs of Conquest for each of the castles we took. Then the final one for Rolone Castle and the domain. Then a polite letter thanking him for his generosity, or some such, declaring my quest for vengeance is now satisfied, and that I will be re-ordering my new domain and, as such, will not be participating in the upcoming summer martial festivities.”

  “That’s going to inspire a strong rebuttal, I think,” Rondal reflected as he helped himself to a glass of Cullien’s spirits. “He does have the military of the domain at hand.”

  “I cannot think that he would deploy them against a rebellion as Sendaria’s army looms,” I said, looking at a handsome map of the region in tooled oxhide that Cullien had helpfully hung in his chamber. “He’s going to need every man to meet them in the field.”

  Rondal stood beside me and gazed at the handsome map. “What about the eastern domains? Pirine, Avanal, and the rest? Won’t they be trying to use Rolone as passage to the deployment in the north?”

  “I’m certain that is their intent,” I nodded. “What is your policy on such things, Lord Lorcus?”

  He considered, and I could almost see the half-a-worm in his head contemplating the potential entertainment value of various course of action. “We’ll let them,” he decided. “If they can pay the new toll.”

  I smirked. “And what would that be?”

  “Two ounces of silver for every commoner, five for every nobleman,” he decided. “That will buy them free and unfettered unarmed passage through Rolone. And, of course, any violence by such travelers would cause me to hold their domain accountable,” he added. “It took me a whole two weeks to conquer my first domain. Now that I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t be so cautious in my approach on my second.”

  “And if they cannot pay?” Rondal asked, amused.

  “Then they can bloody well hike their way north through Lavanth, if they don’t like it. That’s what those troops are for. Where are they likely to attempt to cross the frontier?”

  Rondal studied the map. “This village, here, on the border: Luckthorn, in the Sunsheaf estate. That’s where the toll agent will be.”

  “And when do you think they’ll be making that attempt?”

  “Within the week, now that planting is done and the peasants have had time to prepare for deployment,” reasoned my former apprentice. “I’d say twenty men and a couple of sparks at that point would be sufficient to enforce your policies.”

  “It might start another war,” I cautioned.

  “I’m game for that,” Lorcus assured. “This conquest less like war and more like thievery. I like that!”

  “It is easier when the military have left,” agreed Rondal. “Arm the peasants, see which of your prisoners would be willing to take your device, and hold what you can until the war is over. Whomever is the victor will have to contend with you, even if that means another war. You have a lot of leverage, legally speaking.”

  “The law is a slow sword to depend on,” I pointed out. “It rarely keeps Riverlords from pursuing their interests.”

  “True, but I’m not a Riverlord,” reminded Lorcus. “I’m mad Remeran. Anyone who tries to bite the apple of Rolone will find a worm within has the most acrid of flavors,” he grinned, wickedly.

  *

  *

  I left Lorcus and his men to order his new domain and returned to Sevendor, where I dispatched messengers to Wilderhall with the officially-sealed Writ of Conquest, complete with the generous fee owed to the Duchy for filing it. Sire Trefalan’s pay chest provided that.

  I puttered around the workshop for a few days, working with Onranion and Azhguri on the Snowflake, and helping the enchanters with some of their more advanced projects. I worked with Ruderal on some basic magic skills with Dara for a day and got to know the boy’s cautious humor a little better.

  After that I checked in with Dranus, Festaran, Sister Bemia and Banamor on various administrative issues. With the ecclesiastic council approaching, there was a lot of work to be done to spruce up the town and especially the new temple district in anticipation of the arrival of the barony’s clerics. Thankfully most of the work fell to Banamor and the burghers; all I really had to do was allocate my portion of the funds and approve the basic agenda. Compared to some of the obtuse issues I’d dealt with as head of the Arcane Orders, it was apprentice-level work.

  Sir Festaran’s business involved some hastily-arranged weddings and some delicate negotiations after the carnal chaos of the night of Ishi’s wholesale blessing of Sevendor. The arousal effect had not, as I had hoped, been confined to the castle; indeed, the entire town had spent an evening in unanticipated debauchery, which had spawned dozens of crises that needed to be attended to.

  As far as Gurisham, Boval and even Brestal folk had been inspired into sudden acts of libidinous passion. Often they came to their senses before they crossed the frontiers of scandal, merely skirting propriety and, occasionally, good taste. Most of the wiser married couples merely locked themselves away or found seclusion, spending an intense few hours in youthful bliss, the time slipping away until the effects of the spell did.

  Sometimes it wasn’t a husband or wife who was the recipient of Ishi’s Blessing, however – and the effects of those casual infidelities, whether the product of repressed desire or the result of circumstance and impetuous spontaneity, had real consequences. The temples will filled with folk tearfully regretting their transgressions, begging for guidance and forgiveness. The clerics were babbling platitudes and scriptures but were even more perplexed than their parishioners. They hadn’t been immune to the spell themselves, and that had caused some extreme spiritual stress.

  Most of the clergy had rules about sexual relations, from vows of outright sexual celibacy, like the strict Avaltines and Ifnines, to restrictions on sexual behavior subject to the temple’s approval, like the Brigines, Tryggines, and the Huine orders, to virtually no real rules – or just general rules of thumb – like the disorganized Herusine priesthood. Of course Ishi’s orders had a whole different approach.

  But for that one wild night that approach had been magically projected on all of the clergy, and that had caused some spiritually awkward encounters.

  The nuns of Briga had ended up seducing visiting parishioners, pilgrims, and fellow clergy in what culminated in a ring of sexual excess around the Everfire, led by Flamemother Antara. As a number of monks of Huin’s temple had quitted their spired temple seeking the warmth and serenity within the Dome of the Flame, both temples were dealing with an unexpected ecclesiastical crisis. (A tour of of elderly pilgrims from Trestendor, however, later accounted it the most spiritually profound pilgrimage of their lives and vowed to return every year.)

  Not everyone was given over to untamed lust. The priestess of Ifnia wisely closed her temple’s doors, retreating to the vaults for contemplation in solitude while she sent her acolytes to their cells.

  But two middle-aged priestesses of Trygg, visiting the town on a shopping trip from the abbey, found themselves the subject of far more male attention at the inn at which they were staying than they were accustomed to . . . and found themselves unexpectedly interested in those attention.

  The two normally-chaste matrons took on all comers in the common room that evening. They did have the decency to shed their clerical robes and habits early in the process, so that most of the men involved were unaware of the minor sin they were technically committing. It the
Birthsisters kept track of theirs, I’m sure it was of interest only of the abbess and the All-Mother.

  And an elderly monk of some obscure order from Vore who was visiting the libraries of our land ended up humping in the middle of the Secret Temple with the mature Remeran librarian Pentandra had hired to care for the texts and curate the records. By all accounts, the monk acquitted himself in a manner which Penny would have been proud.

  The combined trauma of the day was causing a lot of anguish, and Sister Bemia was trying to explain it all. When she asked me for counsel, I revealed the true nature of the spell.

  “It was Ishi’s work,” I explained. “Divine magic was involved, and thanks to the snowstone, it affected everyone. My sincerest apologies,” I added.

  Her eyes got wide. “Ishi? The goddess of love?”

  I shrugged. “Did you think that Briga was the only goddess to take an interest in Sevendor? Yes, I can confirm that Ishi was involved in that night. If it helps with your explanations, it was technically to aid the Baroness through an ailment which required the assistance of the goddess. I can likely get it confirmed as a blessing or something by her temple, if it helps,” I offered. “And she is pregnant,” I added. Birthsisters had a reverence for expectant mothers that was a decided weak-spot. I wasn’t above exploiting it.

  “That would explain a lot,” she agreed, reluctantly, as the implications set in. “Especially this time of year – she is a goddess of spring, and her power would be at its zenith. Dear Mother, that alone could explain why I – why things got so . . . awkward. The Binder of Hearts is a potent force, be definition.”

  “It wasn’t hearts that were stirred,” I said, wryly. “But what do you suggest to contend with this . . . occurrence? In your professional opinion?”

  She looked thoughtful. “A statement from her temple would be helpful. I can lend my testament, as a . . . participant, from the perspective of a fellow clergywoman in support. But . . . honestly, Sire, such a thing was rather . . . seminal,” she said, embarrassed. “When the Everflame appeared, you built a temple to Briga around it. When this happened . . .” she said, trailing off.

  “You want me to build a temple to Ishi to commemorate the occasion?” I asked, a little scandalized. Wasn’t it bad enough I’d already pledged to build her one in Vorone? Traditionally such temples were located either in idyllic estates donated by rich and lecherous patrons, or in urban centers, where they served as sacred brothels and finishing schools for ambitious young women. They rarely appeared in quaint mountain towns.

  “Not a full temple, perhaps,” she reasoned, “but a shrine, certainly. One should not let such divine attention pass unnoted. A pretty shrine to commemorate Ishi’s blessing. Maybe a single priestess and a few noviates, nothing extreme. But they could contend with the . . . outcome of the affair. There will be children who result. Some will find their births problematic. The shrine could serve as a point at which such children could be sent to orphanages,” she suggested. “Our abbey runs one such, and there has been discussion of opening a second. This might be the occasion to bring that discussion forward.”

  “With the Temple of Ishi?” I asked, confused.

  She smiled indulgently. “Believe it or not, there is a lot of quiet cooperation between our temples. Particularly concerning orphans. Sex and motherhood are, after all, inextricable entwined. Many of our best priestesses were once initiates of Ishi’s order, in their youth. Such a shrine as I propose would be a method of honoring the Binder of Hearts and helping fund the support the fruits of her blessing.”

  “All right,” I sighed. “It couldn’t hurt the pilgrimage business. I’ll get Banamor to hack off some little parcel on the old commons, and we can start looking for priestesses. Where is the nearest temple?”

  “Over a hundred miles down the Bontal,” she admitted. “But if you send an emissary, I’m sure you can recruit one, particularly if you grant a stipend for the shrine. And once a priestess is here, she can dispense spiritual advice on the matter to the number of husbands and wives who were troubled by it You are right – such places are very popular on pilgrimage. Those who come to see the Everfire will be happy to stop and tarry at it, just as they do at the temple of Huin.”

  “I’m thinking it will be more popular by a great measure. But send your emissary. We might as well raise a shrine. It was a pretty memorable night.” Sister Bemia and blushed, nodding without further comment. I wondered why she and Festaran could no longer look each other in the eye. Now I suspected I knew. If not Fes then someone else . . .

  My meeting with the enchanters was more interesting to me professionally, not personally. I spent an afternoon touring the Manufactory with Rael and Banamor, watching some of the hired enchanters creating mowing rods, threshing wands, and gleaning charms for the upcoming harvest, while others were building more complex enchantments for sale on commission.

  “The orders have poured in for the agricultural enchantments,” Rael reported as we walked from worktable to worktable. “We’ve moved over thirty lots out to spellmongers and court wizards around the Bontal, but we’ve even got some orders by Mirror coming in from as far as Remere and the Castali Wilderlands. We’ve got a three-week backlog,” she boasted, pleased. “Most of the stock we accumulated this winter is gone. Over three hundred sets. At around forty ounces of silver each.”

  “That’s a lot of coin,” I nodded appreciably.

  “That’s nothing,” Banamor bragged. “We’ve taken orders for wool carding and sheering enchantments at a hundred ounces each – over a dozen of each one. That’s a very simple enchantment.” He consulted a scroll he took from his belt and started counting our riches.

  “Since Yule we’ve moved over forty butter churns, nearly two hundred heatstones, sixty-three heating and freezing wands, past six hundred magelight wands, eighty-one wellstones, and twenty four warding beacons. Our construction enchantments are moving more slowly, but the cost is higher.” He rolled the scroll back up. “We’ve made a gross profit of more than three thousand ounces a month, since Yule. Ounces of gold,” he said, meaningfully. “You add that to our mercantile interests in lourdin, sympathy stones, snowstone, and general magical supplies, and you’re making far more on this enterprise than you are on all of that silly agriculture. Combined.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should shift enchanters away from agriculture,” Rael insisted, hands on her hips. “Those wands are needed out there!”

  “I agree,” I nodded. “My entire purpose here wasn’t to make as much money as I could. It was to make people’s lives better. The profit we make from the more expensive items can cover the effort we make on the agricultural enchantments. Which are, you have to admit, not unprofitable,” I pointed out.

  “Bah! But hardly worth the effort. Minalan, if we could put another witchstone in play here, and hire another shift of enchanters, we could start working on the really sophisticated things – like that medical baculus we were discussing, or the next generation of Mirrors.”

  “Do it,” I decided. “I’ll have another witchstone prepared. You start interviewing candidates. And consider what you can do for apprentices – there must be ways you can speed up work by having less-experienced magi do preparation work.”

  “That’s actually a good idea,” Rael admitted. “Right now they’re spending about a third of the time preparing the wands, and another third of the time making them meable,” she said, describing the complicated process that allowed magical items to be used by folk with not Talent of their own. It added significantly to the time and energy needed in the process of the spell. “If we had a few assistants to do some of the easier rote work of metuitals like benefication and mensuration, the enchanters could focus on the actual enchantment.”

  “I like it,” Banamor agreed. “There are enough stray magi of lesser power around to support it – even a few talented sports we might be able to use.”

  “Before you set them to working on more butter churns,” I suggested, “have
them do a trial run of fifty more Sentry Wands as a trial. With what Lorcus is doing in Rolone, I think he’s going to need them soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A Quick Trip To Wilderhall

  “It’s a medical baculus . . . called a cummock, in the ancient texts,” Master Ulin explained, in my workshop. He had three books opened on the table and had spread out a three-foot long scroll with a detailed diagram of his proposal.

  It featured a short staff of elegant design: the wood at the slender head of it was curved back on itself in almost a perfect circle six inches across, nearly touching the base. “Its distinctive hook, similar to a shepherd’s crook, acts as a field of view through which the mage may examine the patient, usually through a lens of thaumaturgical glass. It’s considered a tool of great diagnostic value, according to the ancient Perwyneese. In the Middle Magocracy no respectable healer would come to your bedside without a cummock, whether it was arcanely active or no.”

  “And you want to build one of these things?” I asked, curious and intrigued.

  “Well, yes . . . but not with the limitations of the old style,” he admitted, stroking his beard. “While useful, I think with what we’ve learned about enchantment in the last year we can vastly improve its effectiveness. The originals were used as diagnostic tools, but with snowstone and advanced enchantments we can add a lot of active augmentations: spells to protect against shock, to stop bleeding, to lower fever, to ease discomfort, to relieve pain . . . the possibilities are endless!”

  “How would you capture such enchantments? Weirwood?”

  “Weirwood would be best, especially the brindle varieties; but originally only naturally curved weirwood was considered adequate for such devices.”

  “That must be pretty rare,” I agreed. Weirwood tended to grow straight, like bamboo or rattan.