‘Archmage?’ Jilseth wanted to ask about the glimpse she had caught of Planir’s sitting room. Troanna, Rafrid and Kalion had all been there and judging by their expressions, the conversation had been heated.
Planir looked up from the scrying bowl to offer her a brief smile before glancing at the window. Wet from an earlier rain shower, the ivy leaves stirred by the breeze were gilded by the setting sun. All too soon, Jilseth knew, it would sink behind the roofline and shadows would thicken around the courtyard.
The Council bell tolled.
‘Archmage?’ Emerald light flared to cast uncanny reflections under Nolyen’s chin.
‘You may release your spell.’ As the magic evaporated leaving only the faintest perfume in the air, Planir looked from the younger mage to Jilseth and back again.
‘I may need you to bear witness to the Council as to what you have seen. That is my summons,’ he added.
Nolyen had no hesitation. ‘What do you want us to say, Archmage?’
Planir spread his hands. ‘The truth, no more, no less.’
He was striding for the door before Jilseth could frame a more meaningful question.
Nolyen was already rising to follow the Archmage. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Since Jilseth had no answer to that, she let Nolyen go through the door and pulled it closed behind her.
Despite the dusk gathering in the courtyard, she could see the faces at surrounding windows. Planir’s swift steps echoing across the flagstones had caught their curiosity. Now those onlookers were studying her and Nolyen.
She could imagine the questions running through the watchers’ minds. The same questions that had been bandied about Hadrumal’s wine shops for days now, running the length of the wizard city’s high road.
When would the impasse between the Archmage and the Council be broken? Who would be the one to break the deadlock? What would the outcome be for Hadrumal?
They would know soon enough. Doubtless half the council members would head straight to inform their favoured companions once this evening’s meeting concluded.
She caught up with Nolyen as he passed beneath the outer courtyard’s arch into the alleyway.
It came as no surprise to her that Planir took the swiftest route through the narrow ginnels running between and behind the high-walled halls to reach the irregular square in front of the Council chamber.
Jilseth was rather more interested to note how warmly the Archmage was greeted by two mundane born hall servants coming along the alley. Who, judging by their curious looks at her and Nolyen, were used to finding their humble paths customarily free of the mageborn.
Swift as they were, wizards were already assembling around the chamber door. Not only Council members. Jilseth could see a good number of mages who had no official reason to answer the bell’s summons. Were they here with some argument or encouragement for those about to enter the debate, whatever that might prove to be? Or simply looking for more entertainment than sitting at a dinner table with their friends or on either side of a fireplace, swapping tales of a customarily arduous day.
She looked for the Element Mistress and Masters. If any of the three arrived with a coterie of Council members, that would surely be significant.
‘There’s Troanna.’ Nolyen looked apprehensive.
‘Ely is with her.’ Jilseth wondered what that might signify.
‘Galen is with Kalion,’ Nolyen observed without surprise, ‘and a good double handful of others,’ he added, rather more concerned
Were there any Hall Masters or Mistresses among the Hearth Master’s allies? Jilseth tried to see but she couldn’t identify half the glimpsed shoulders and turning heads amid this throng. She had entirely lost sight of Planir.
‘Let’s go into the chamber.’
As the mages of Council rank climbed the short flight of stairs, the hum of speculation rose to a deafening pitch beneath the shallow drum of the roof vault. Jilseth’s head was ringing by the time she arrived in the circular chamber.
Her relief was short-lived. Canfor’s hand gripped her elbow.
‘What are you doing here?’ He looked down at her, his eyes intense.
So he wasn’t challenging her right to be present. He was more interested in what he might learn before the debate started.
Jilseth took a little discreet pleasure in frustrating him. ‘I am here at the Archmage’s request.’
Canfor wasn’t deterred. ‘What have you seen?’
‘Much the same as you, I would imagine.’ Jilseth met his gaze boldly. ‘Where have you been getting your bitumen from?’
He didn’t answer, turning away to sit on the far side of the door.
‘Here.’ Nolyen had claimed two of the closest seats. ‘No,’ he said firmly to a rotund magewoman in puce velvet, ‘this chair is required for the Archmage’s witness.’
‘Thank you.’ Jilseth slid past the woman and sat down before anyone else could challenge Nolyen’s claim.
She leaned close to him, keeping her voice low. ‘Is there any limit on how many mages a council member can invite to observe a debate?’
‘I don’t recall.’ Nolyen looked around. ‘I don’t recall ever seeing the chamber so crowded.’
The hum of speculation was only muted now because huddles of wizards were wary of being overheard, glancing over their shoulders to see who might be standing closest.
‘There’s Rafrid.’ Jilseth was relieved to see the Cloud Master arrive with Sannin and Herion.
‘There’s Velindre,’ Nolyen said, startled.
Jilseth followed his gaze to see the tall blonde magewoman standing beside Planir. Velindre was regarding the wizards bustling between their allies and their seats with a sardonic curl to her lip.
Jilseth found the expression reminiscent of Canfor’s. Were all wizards born to the element of air naturally so aloof?
Planir took a lithe step onto the great chamber’s central dais. The hovering sphere of magelight blazed with his urgency.
‘Good evening, masters and mistresses.’
The Archmage didn’t pause to allow those taken unawares to find their seats. A faint gloss of blue magic slid over the magelight above his head and his words rose more loudly above the hasty shuffle of feet and the rustle of clothing.
‘Archmage? The door?’ One of the oldest mages present, a snowy-haired, hatchet faced man indignantly waved his stick at the entrance standing wide open.
Planir acknowledged him with the briefest of nods. ‘I see no reason to shut ourselves away, Master Massial, when the business that brings us here this evening concerns all of Hadrumal.’
That silenced the last whispers circling the room.
‘It is my duty to see this Council is kept fully informed of recent developments in the Aldabreshin Archipelago, concerning the renegade Mandarkin mage. Jilseth, kindly tell us what your most recent scrying has shown.’
‘Archmage.’ She was on her feet at once. Then she realised Nolyen had stayed sitting down. ‘Nol?’
‘He doesn’t need two of us repeating ourselves.’ He pressed his shoulders back against the wall. ‘I’ll make note of who knows nothing of what we’ve seen, and who shows no surprise,’ he muttered darkly.
Jilseth narrowed her eyes at him but she couldn’t deny that such knowledge could well be useful. She could also feel the weight of every other gaze in the chamber upon her.
‘You may speak from there,’ Planir prompted.
Jilseth wondered who else realised the Archmage had no intention of yielding the central platform to any other speaker. She dared not look at Flood Mistress Troanna.
Lifting her chin, she looked straight at the Archmage.
‘The Mandarkin wizard, Anskal, has made an alliance with two of the original leaders of the corsairs.’ She strove to keep her subsequent explanation as succinct and unemotional as Planir’s words.
‘It seems that those men were already using some of the ensorcelled artefacts as best they might, for personal prote
ction and assistance. These men do not show the same fear and hatred of wizardry as other Archipelagans. They appear to be persuading others to join them. They returned to the anchorage with two ships. This afternoon another three arrived, two galleys and a trireme.’
She broke off at Planir’s nod.
The Archmage turned to Velindre who had moved to stand beside Cloud Master Rafrid. ‘Are the Aldabreshin warlords aware of this?’
‘They are,’ she said crisply. ‘Mellitha Esterlin and I have been scrying and gathering intelligence from a wide range of sources. The northern reaches’ warlords have watched recent developments with great concern. Their patience with the corsairs had already worn thin but they were loath to intervene in Nahik Jarir’s waters. Such an assault goes against all custom and law. The Mandarkin’s arrival changed all that, as was clearly demonstrated when the neighbouring domains joined forces in that initial assault on this anchorage.’
Sinking back onto her seat, Jilseth saw that Troanna was ready to rise and to speak. Moreover the Flood Mistress wasn’t the only mage intent on having a say.
Velindre ignored them all as she continued. ‘The warlords have been considering what to do next ever since that first wave of slaves was slaughtered. We should not mistake their recent inaction for any lack of intent or courage. They will not tolerate the presence of a wizard in their waters.’
Her severe features hardened further. ‘They will rid themselves of this wizard if it takes a year and a hundred lost lives for every day of that year to do it. But I can assure you that we will not need to wait a year to see the bloodshed start. As long as this Mandarkin stayed within the bounds of that single island, on land that was already deemed irretrievably cursed, the Archipelagans believed that they had time to regroup after those initial losses, to gather more men and ships while they consulted with each other in hopes of a strategy certain to kill him and all those mageborn—’
‘And to consult their stars?’
It took Jilseth a moment to identify the source of that sarcastic interruption. Despin, the balding bearded mage who had been so interested in the notion of ensorcelled artefacts.
‘To mock what you do not understand merely makes you look a fool.’ Velindre shot him a fulminating glance before addressing the entire gathering once again.
‘Now the warlords have learned that the Mandarkin Anskal has allies beyond those coerced mageborn. That those allies have galleys and triremes as well as detailed knowledge of their own sea lanes and islands. The warlords are preparing another attack even as we sit here and debate. They are most assuredly watching their skies for the most favourable stars. Because they know a conjunction is approaching which will offer their foes incomparable shelter and succour.’
The tall magewoman swept the chamber with a scathing glance.
‘You may know nothing of and care less for the Aldabreshin heavenly compass but your ignorance has no bearing on this matter. The Archipelagans believe in their omens absolutely and will follow this most vital of portents’ guidance to the uttermost end.
‘The warlords have agreed that this wizard, his apprentices and all those corsairs who would sail under his banner must die,’ she declared. ‘Their attack will commence three days from now. It will continue until the Mandarkin and all those with him are dead. Then that island will be burned to black ash with no living thing allowed to escape it.’
‘Then the matter will be closed.’ An ancient magewoman hunched in her seat spoke up. ‘There is nothing more to be said.’ She planted her stick on the flagstones, ready to rise.
‘Can we be sure of that, Shannet?’
In the centre of the chamber, Planir’s question commanded everyone’s attention.
‘Aldabreshin swords are swift and so is their sticky fire but who here could not escape such threats, even taken unawares? This Mandarkin, this renegade mage Anskal, will have learned that this attack is coming, as readily as we have. This foolhardy Aldabreshin assault—’ he broke off to acknowledge Velindre’s unspoken protest ‘—though admirably courageous by its own lights, is doomed to fail in its ultimate aim.
‘What of the consequences for Hadrumal?’ he challenged the Council. ‘Where will this wizard go next? A renegade mage whom we have already seen is as merciless as any tale of Mandarkin cruelty might suggest. Even if he chooses to throw his apprentices onto Aldabreshi blades to make his escape, at the very least we can assume he will make certain to save his trove of ensorcelled artefacts.’
Planir shot a look at Despin and some other mages whom Jilseth guessed had made representations to him about Hadrumal’s supposed claim on such treasures.
‘Many of you have reservations about our own new haven for wizardry in distant Suthyfer,’ the Archmage observed. ‘Do you want to see this Anskal establish himself in some remote place, to recruit a new cohort of mageborn to support those he has already coerced and to teach them his callousness and greed? Do we want to see those hoarded artefacts abused to further his purposes?
‘What will the Soluran Orders do in such a case?’ Planir demanded. ‘They tell us it is our duty to subdue this renegade, since it was a Caladhrian who lured him southwards. If we are seen to fail so signally in that duty, what of Hadrumal’s reputation then? What is to stop the Solurans attacking this Mandarkin to defend their own interests if we have been found wanting? To secure those ensorcelled artefacts for themselves, giving us no opportunity to study them, now or in the future, to add to the sum of elemental knowledge.’
He raised a hand though Jilseth had seen no one open their mouth to speak, turning to address Shannet again.
‘What will the Solurans do in years to come, if they have lost all respect for Hadrumal? Why should they abide by any ancient agreement signed between Trydek and those Soluran mages now as long dead as our first Archmage? Thankfully the Lescari strife seems to have ended, so we need not fear their wizards hiring out their skills in warfare to the highest bidder. But what is to stop the Soluran Orders offering their services to those Tormalin nobles and merchant adventurers so eager to explore those unknown lands far away across the Eastern Ocean?
‘How long after that before King Solquen and his nobles consider they have an indisputable right to take an interest, if mages sworn to their service are engaged in such exploration? What will Emperor Tadriol and the princes of Tormalin’s great houses make of such interference? How long before they look to Hadrumal to curb such insolence?
‘What if the Soluran mageborn customarily obliged to swear oaths both to an Order and that Order’s noble patron, decide to spurn such traditions? King Solquen will not take kindly to being deprived of his kingdom’s defenders. Perhaps those defiant mageborn will seek to avert any retaliation by recruiting other mageborn to take their place. With Hadrumal proven so lacking, why shouldn’t Caladhrian mageborn, or those from Ensaimin, Lescar or Tormalin look for wizardry whose strength is now plain for all to see? Whose mages are bold enough to explore those unknown lands and win a share in whatever riches might be found.
‘What of Hadrumal’s future then, if the brightest and the best of our mageborn turn their backs on our scholarship and libraries? Well, that is no great puzzle,’ he concluded. ‘At best the study of wizardry will become steadily more impoverished. At worst, the Soluran tolerance for magecraft in warfare will go unchallenged. How long before we see the lands of the Old Tormalin Empire laid waste by untamed magic as they were in the days of the Chaos?
‘No,’ Planir said briskly. ‘I have a duty to protect Hadrumal’s interests. Further, I have a duty to defend all mageborn and the time has assuredly come to offer these coerced unfortunates a future beyond a life of slavery or some agonising death as a sacrifice according to the Mandarkin’s needs.
‘So we will kill this renegade Anskal. That should remind the mundane powers from remotest Gidesta to the southernmost Archipelago and all the way across Solura to the Wildlands beyond that it is only wizards who have the right to discipline wizards. Because, as we will
show them beyond any shadow of a doubt,’ he assured the Council, ‘it is only wizards who have the power to do such a thing.’
His words rang unchallenged to the ornate roof vault.
There was a moment’s utter silence. Then Jilseth saw mages all round the chamber exchange looks ranging from astonishment to satisfaction to frank apprehension.
Troanna was on her feet. ‘Very well, Archmage.’ She began walking towards the central dais. ‘Let us debate how best to proceed and then we may vote accordingly.’
Planir made no move to yield the platform. ‘You misunderstand me, Flood Mistress. There will be no debate. I have not brought the Council here to vote. I have simply fulfilled my duty to keep you all informed.’ He looked around the room. ‘I will call on each of you whose skills I require in the days to come.’
Now he did step down from the platform, taking all the wizards by surprise as he strode purposefully to the door.
As he did so, he looked straight at Jilseth and Nolyen. She didn’t need to see his conspiratorial wink to prompt her to her feet. She followed the Archmage from the chamber, Nolyen barely a pace behind her.
Planir paused at the bottom of the steps, stopping barely half a pace beyond the threshold where Trydek’s ancient spells nullified all but the magecraft permitted for Council purposes.
‘Now,’ he said urgently, ‘we cannot do this alone.’
‘Archmage?’ Nolyen looked at him wide-eyed.
Planir grinned. ‘Rather I should say, we should not do this alone. Not if we are to leave the Aldabreshi ignorant of our true involvement. I am content to have Hadrumal and the Soluran Orders, the Tormalin Emperor and every lesser mainland power suitably cowed by some flamboyant demonstration of Hadrumal’s wizardly might but I would much rather offer the Archipelagans an alternative explanation.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Halferan Manor, Caladhria
35th of For-Autumn
Darkening Skies (The Hadrumal Crisis) Page 38
