High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  “We will continue to discuss this between ourselves after the evening meal,” our host announced, as a chime rang in the distance. “Thank you for your testimony, Master Minalan. The council will summon you again when we have come to some decision.”

  Chapter Four

  Allies & Enemies

  “So how did they like them?” Pentandra asked quietly as we walked toward the Hall of Hospitality. She knew my plan to bribe the Alka Alon with Apophylyte and she heartily approved.

  “The gifts? They loved them. They’re like children, when they see something they like: unmitigated joy. And as bribes go, it definitely changed the mood of the discussion. Unique magical jewels were just too shiny to pass up. But I faced a lot more opposition in there than I expected. There was a lot going on that I did not understand. Politics and history, no doubt, but we’ve got to know more about who we’re dealing with. That council wasn’t much help. I still don’t know who among them are allies and who are enemies.”

  “Such things are subtle, when it comes to the Tree Folk. I was hoping to overhear some gossip while we were waiting to help you out,” Penny said, looking around to see who could overhear her, ”but it’s difficult if you don’t know the language. They use human speech when they speak to us, but half the time when they’re together they don’t even use words when they communicate. They sing to each other. And I have no context at all for their music,” she admitted. “It’s frustrating. But Dara and I had a good time trying to figure out the local politics by observation.”

  “Any insights?” I asked, as I took a pipe out of a pouch and packed it.

  “The Avalanti are definitely the lower class, here. Almost servile, with a few exceptions. The Versaroti, which are the ones with the hair plaits, are far less numerous, but universally deferred to. Of course, without the benefit of clothes it’s difficult to tell which Alka are which, but they’re individual enough when you use magesight. And the Avalanti are a little shorter, I think.” I hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. Using magesight, that is.

  “Any other helpful conclusions?” I asked, lighting my pipe with a cantrip and taking a deep draw. I felt relief that my part of the council was over but suddenly a lot more anxiety about how I did.

  “I’d really love to spend a month here, just . . . breathing. Min, I don’t know what it is, exactly, but there is some wholesomeness here that makes everything rich and vibrant. Magic, but . . . pervasive. I feel it everywhere.” Her face was flushed, and her eyes burned with excitement.

  “That’s how it is with the Tree Folk,” I agreed, ruefully. “Angriel was like that, but not to this extent. The forest refuge felt like a fine spray. This is more like a waterfall. It’s like you could spend every moment just enjoying your existence, and the days would slip away.”

  “And I wouldn’t mind one bit. I suppose that’s why the Alka Alon realms were always so perilous to humans in the epics,” she pointed out. “When every breath you take satisfies you like a banquet meal, it’s difficult to concentrate.”

  “It would make a pleasant honeymoon destination,” I agreed. “But that’s not helpful.”

  “Well, I can confirm your theory on their . . . magical coordination,” she added, as we stepped into yet-another glorious garden that led to the Hall of Hospitality. “I’ve watched several work crews pass by while we were waiting for you. Any time more than two of them got together to do something, there was a coordination effect. They all worked in perfect step, like they had practiced for hours. There was no apparent initiation of it, like an officer calling his troops to order, they just did it.”

  We interrupted our conversation when Ithalia announced it was time to lunch and ushered us into a long hall of breathtaking beauty where we were to dine, at which important Alka Alon had already begun to congregate.

  While it was as Alkan as Angriel had been, it was different in style from the rustic Tree Folk refuge. The stone pillars that supported the roof were carved in the shape of spiral tree trunks, natavia, of course, but far more stylized and less-naturalistic than what I remembered from Angriel. The vaulted roof twinkled with dozens of slowly-moving teardrop-shaped magelights. There was no fire in the hall, but the air was warmer than the cool mountain spring air outside. I was still glad of my mantle. When everyone around you is naked, it makes you feel cold just looking at them.

  We were led by our emissaries to the center of the room There we were seated in groups of five or six around small tables radiating out from a larger round center table at which the principals of the council were seated. The chairs were mere cushioned stools, and I did not look forward to perching on one with my knees near my cheeks . . . but then I saw that they had prepared a table for us in advance, with human-fashioned chairs of proper size.

  As we were seated the host addressed us, sang a blessing and thanked us all for our presence. I noticed that he was wearing the silver chain and the jewel I had given him. They all were. Even Lord Aeratas.

  “Looks like they enjoy their pretties,” chuckled Master Guri, a growl of satisfaction in his voice. “I knew they would. It is said you cannot go wrong flattering the vanity of an Alkan lord.”

  “Or the avarice of a Karshak,” Lady Ithalia noted, dryly. “Please excuse me while I speak to the steward of the hall.”

  “You two behave,” Pentandra reproved in a sharp whisper. “We’re guests here! They do look quite fetching, though. One of your folk did the settings?”

  “My cousin Krin,” nodded the Karshak stonesinger. “Not the smoothest stone in the pile, but the kid has talent when it comes to metalwork. The chaka love those simple floral settings.” Chaka, I’d come to learn as Master Guri and his folk had built the Alkan refuge atop Matten’s Helm, was a native Karshak term for Alka Alon, though not a particularly flattering one – I think it meant “pompous” or something along that line Master Guri leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Nice work in council, Min,” he added, approvingly. “When they opened up those little bags, I thought their eyes would fall out! They were all impressed . . . but I’m not certain ‘tis enough. Lord Letharan isn’t going to forget his enmity over a pretty stone . . . although he’ll keep the pretty stone. And I doubt you moved Lord Aeratas more than an inch.”

  “You don’t build a fortress in a day,” I reminded him as I watched Ithalia went to speak to one of the stewards about our care. Probably reminding him what we ate. The Alka Alon all seemed to be eating from a common bowl in the middle of the table, filled with fruits, steamed vegetables, and wholesome thoughts. I was craving ham. “I just needed them to see me as a valuable resource, not as a miscreant humani mage. If they know what I have, and they want more, then maybe they’ll stop being condescending long enough to actually help us out. I wasn’t exaggerating about the embassy’s help. We could not have defeated the dragon without Alkan assistance.”

  “They are powerful allies,” agreed Master Guri, sagely, out of Ithalia’s hearing (but likely not the dozens of other Alka Alon in the room), “but beware your entanglements with them. Alka Alon politics is notoriously vicious and sophisticated. I suppose when you live damn near forever, you have time to really think about how to be subtle, petty, and vindictive.”

  “Like it or not, you’ve been thrust into the center of it,” Lady Ithalia said, approaching our table as the first course was served. “Your gift in council was unexpected, Master Minalan, but well-received. The steward was just remarking to me about the graciousness of the gift. And your presentation was . . . while it was course, in some ways, it was effective. The council was swayed, at least, not to try to attempt to take your sphere from you I think.”

  “A validation of their wisdom,” I agreed, solemnly. “I’m not inclined to give it up.”

  “They also think of you as a potential ally and emissary to the humani. Those, too, are good things.”

  “Only if it works to our advantage. I appreciate the fact that they think I’m a stalwart fellow with an open hand, and that I know a king
and a couple of dukes, but what I really need—”

  “Is being taken into account,” Ithalia interrupted. “Master Minalan, the council understands what you wish. But it will not act until it feels it is properly informed. They will hear from the Wilderland representatives next, and tonight they hear the tales of the Kasari emissaries, and those of the Valley Folk. Master Guri will testify tomorrow morn. Other agents will report. Other emissaries will take counsel. And in the meantime, the council will deliberate. Impatience would not be prudent,” she warned. “No doubt you will be spoken to privately at tonight’s reception by those who wish to hear your counsels more closely.”

  “I understand,” I sighed, as the soup course was laid in front of me. “I just want this to be productive. I’m just missing the Chepstan Spring Fair for this, after all. I do enjoy the clowns.”

  “You jest,” she accused, taking a seat at our table. “While I was not able to attend council with you, I did speak to a few friends. Perhaps it would interest you in what was being said.” Ithalia, more than any of the other Alka Alon, had been sympathetic to the human cause, partially because I had helped rescue her and a band of Alka Alon refugees from a goblin attack, and partially because of some native affection for our race. I had encouraged good relations with her, on that account. She had been very forthcoming in explaining the intricacies of Alka Alon politics, when she could.

  “There is news,” she reported in a hushed whisper. “Nearly all the refuges in the Wilderlands have been evacuated, now. Yet thousands were captured by the Abomination and taken into shadow, it is said. Many are missing: among them, the daughter of the Aronin of Angriel, Ameras. It is feared she is captured, though it is also rumored she is lost or in hiding. “

  “She was evacuating Angriel, the last time I saw her,” I told her.

  “That is known,” Ithalia said, worriedly. “But disappeared from her folk soon after, claiming an errand. She has not been seen since. Her loss would be grievous to many.”

  “Is she that important?” asked Pentandra, curious.

  “She represents one of three of the last lines of the old Avalanti dynasties,” Ithalia confirmed. “The woodland folk, you might say. That means more than you might think. She is heir to much in our realm, and she has significant personal admiration among the younger folk. Losing Ameras would be devastating, to some. Losing her to shadow would be catastrophic. The council fears the worst,” she added, apologetically.

  “That’s helpful,” I nodded, suddenly worried about the beautiful Alka maiden who I’d met on the eve of her land’s destruction. “Any other news?”

  “Snowstone,” she said, simply. “It has enchanted the minds of my folk, Master Minalan. They delight in it in a way they have rarely done, and sing new songs of its beauty. They are mystified by its origin, but they take great pleasure in its mysteries.”

  “Aye, its great stuff,” Guri dismissed, though he had been foremost in singing its praises – literally. “But what’s it worth?”

  “It has great value,” agreed Ithalia. “I am deemed fortunate to be so near it on such a regular basis. Many have asked to make pilgrimage to the mountain.”

  I sighed. This was getting frustrating. “I won’t turn away the tourist traffic, but I’m not here to arrange excursions while the kingdom burns.”

  “I know, Master Minalan,” she agreed, gravely. “There are several who would happily lend their aid directly, but fear doing so less they invite the displeasure of the council in acting before it has made a decision. It does not help that those who are so enthusiastic propose lending aid in controversial ways.”

  “Fighting alongside of humans is controversial?”

  “Teaching Alka Alon magic to humans,” she corrected. “And employing prescribed songspells. Transgenic enchantments, in particular. Those who favor the humani also tend to favor more liberal use of magics the council considers dangerous.”

  “What, like your slightly taller, curvier, more bountiful form?” I asked. She paused, and probably would have blushed in human form. Their association with us base humani had given them a little insight into our sexuality . . . and our sexual humor. Ithalia had certainly noted just how much male attention she and her fellow emissaries had gotten since they arrived.

  “That is one manifestation,” she agreed. “But there are others, more subtle and more dangerous. Such enchantments were poorly used in the past, and there are valid reasons for being wary of their use. I doubt the council would not even consider such things if the situation were not grave.”

  “So how many potential allies are we talking about?” asked Pentandra.

  “A few hundreds, so far. Perhaps a thousand. But there are some notable Alkan among them. The Spellmonger’s gift went far to attract the attention of more. And your character is greatly admired, even among those who dislike the humani. But among others you are seen as arrogant and brash. An ignorant savage barely above the level of the gurvani you fight. No offense,” she added.

  “None taken,” I grunted.

  “I don’t see them as that advanced, actually,” Guri mused. “I’ve lived among them for a few years, now, and they aren’t any better than the average gurvan. And their mating customs . . . weird. No other word for it,” affirmed Guri, stroking his beard. “If we did things the way you do, we’d—“

  “I doubt now is an appropriate time to discuss the subject, gentlemen,” Pentandra interrupted, “although I would greatly appreciate hearing your insights another time, for professional reasons. But the point Lady Ithalia is making is that we have opponents on the council as well as proponents. We must try to weaken or nullify their voices, or we shall receive little help from the Alka Alon.”

  “Those same opponents argue that you have received too much already,” Ithalia agreed. “Lord Letharan is of the belief that the Abomination is not of Alkan concern, it is a human problem. Lord Aeratas knows that it is of concern, but so loathes the humani that he would see the shadow fall over your lands in spite.”

  “Ouch,” I winced. “What did we do to him?”

  “It was long ago, generations, by your count. But the lord has a long memory, and great influence. If he was not immune from the unexpected pleasure of your gift, he was especially wary. He suspects treachery from the humani.”

  “That’s just good thinking,” I quipped. “I don’t really trust me myself. The gift was given in good faith, however.”

  “I understand that, Master Minalan. Convincing Lord Aeratas and Lord Letharan might prove more difficult.”

  “I’ll just have to be particularly charming, then.”

  “You will get the opportunity,” she agreed. “After our meal there will be a . . . you would call it a reception. A time for informal talk, stories and song.”

  “And wine, I hope. What could I possibly say that would charm such opponents?”

  Ithalia considered. “They dislike and distrust the humani for different reasons. Letharan is a xenophobe with a vendetta. Aeratas is jealous of his realm. And finds your folk distastefully ephemeral. Both have been strongly in favor of receding from the realm of human affairs, and are reluctant to renew relations. They but they have grudgingly allowed the volunteers who stood by your side to do so. They disapproved of our intervention at Cambrian, but excused it. After the fact,” she added, guiltily.

  “Hmmm. Neither of those are very easy to work with, but I’ll see what I can do. Isn’t Lord Aeratas involved, simply by proximity? I understood that Anthatiel was in the Mindens, somewhere.”

  “It is also an impregnable fortress, on an island in a mountain lake, surrounded by a great gorge. The five waterfalls that fall into the gorge produce a constant array of spectra – rainbows – over the gorge that Aeratas uses to carry the protective magic that both guards his realm and cloaks it from sight.”

  “Gods!” whispered Pentandra. “That sounds . . .”

  “Gorgeous?” offered Master Guri with a smug grin.

  “It is. One of the greatest
wonders of our realm. Unless the gurvani feel like swimming and dodging arrows in the water, they pose no threat to Aeratas.”

  “What about our other opponent?”

  “Lord Letharan’s great citadel of Anas Yartharel is in the Kulines, near to the Pearwoods. A secluded vale requiring leagues of hard travel to reach overland, with a strong and fast fortress. One of the mightiest still standing from our glorious past. He is next nearest the Shadow. But he sees the shadows of humanity equally as dreadful.”

  “With the Pearwoods clans for neighbors, I can almost understand that.”

  The rest of the day was spent sightseeing, as Ithalia took us on a little tour of Carneduin. It was, simply, a magical place, the sort of place where you would expect just about any sort of delight to spring from the ground or float by on the air, just to amuse you.

  That evening, after being given a chance to refresh ourselves in the guest houses, we were summoned to the reception Ithalia spoke of. It was held in the same building but in a much larger hall. This one seemed designed for sweet songs, impassioned stories, and cozy discussions. The music was, to my surprise, instrumental, with five Avalanti musicians playing a variety of string and horn instruments I’d never even seen before.

  I wandered around the room a little, getting a feel for it and examining the refreshments. Most of the room was crowded with Alka Alon, but there were a few humans. We stood out.

  Min, there’s someone you have to meet, Pentandra sent to me, mind-to-mind, as I nibbled on a flower from the buffet table. Yes, a flower .