Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4)

by D. H. Aire

  Chuckling, George nodded, “Everything comes with perspective, lad… They’re monitoring everyone’s vitals.”

  Gallen stared around her, knowing it was illusion, then with a wave of her hand, sought to generate her own. The image around her rippled, then steadied.

  :Interesting,: Staff said. :At the moment you can affect the imaging to a limited extent, but you need to try using magery less… Yes, part of your illusions seem to draw from the magic, but somehow you’ve tapped something else… parts of the brain that mess with the human ability to enter rapport.:

  “My mother was human, a foreigner… She was kin to the Lord Protector of the Chain Hills. They have no magery as the Empire reckons it. She died when I was little, but she told me tales of her people as bedtime stories. I think… I think my gifts come from her heritage, but her stories never suggested anything like my level of skill. Just abilities to make people not see someone, who became like shadows.”

  :We can explore your memories of those tales, if you like. Though it may be painful.:

  She blinked, “What do you mean?”

  The day turned to night and she found herself looking up from her bed. A lovely woman sitting on its edge, reached out a caressing head. “You are supposed to be asleep,” her mother said.

  Tears welled. The moment paused.

  :We need not explore this.:

  “That’s my mother… Oh, my… Staff, this will just be between you and me, right?”

  :Yes, George will not intrude. Consider our work together part of what it means to get to know yourself, understand your biases and assumptions… A good archaeologist must. It is easy to come to conclusions that are not warranted.:

  “I take by arkaiologist you mean human mage.”

  :Scientist is more apt… Do you wish to continue or proceed to another area?:

  Gallen reached up a too small hand toward her mother’s face, “Proceed… please, I loved her stories.”

  Andre found herself… in her bedroom. She turned about as she heard a voice, “Do not be alarmed. I have accessed a memory of a place you felt safe, where we might begin your studies. Hmm, for someone who has been an urchin you appear to have had a very nice room once.”

  She blinked, nodded, “I did.”

  Words began appearing before her, formed into sentences as if written by her own hand.

  :You can read and write in a flowing script… a solid vocabulary beyond what would be expected of someone raised on the streets of the Seventh Tier.:

  “I had a tutor once… but much of what I learned was in keeping with Gallen’s Rules. A live urchin is a smart urchin.”

  Numbers appeared. Added and subtracted, multiplied and divided.

  :You have a firm grasp of the basics. What do you know of chemistry?:

  “Of what?”

  :Alchemy?:

  “The tannery stinks. The dyers smell little better.”

  :Well, we have a point of reference, at least. Andre, is there an area of interest you would study?:

  She frowned, “I would learn who killed my family.”

  :Hmm, I do not now possess that knowledge and have a suspicion learning the answer to that may pose ethical problems to my subroutines. On the other hand, all knowledge is good, as the enlightened used to say. So, my archaeology database offers a number of courses that can aid you in the pursuit of the truth based on available evidence. However, you will need a firm understanding of scientific method.:

  “I intend to hunt those responsible down and kill them one day.”

  :I suggest intensive study with Cle’or in that case.:

  “She’s already started,” Andre replied, smiling thinly.

  ‘How’s it going?’ George asked through their link.

  :George, you are not making this easy.:

  ‘Now you know how I feel…’

  “Where are we?” Revit asked.

  “Looks like nowhere,” Terus answered.

  :You have been tasked to monitor.:

  “Staff, we know that’s important and all, but it can be so boring…” Revit replied.

  :Concentrate on each individual linked to me, establish their baseline vitals… heart rate, respiration, body temperature. Make certain all stay within these parameters. You will find a rhythm to it all.:

  The world around them pulsed with life. They felt the others.

  “But it’s going to be so boring,” Terus quipped.

  :Is that really what you want me to tell, George?:

  “No,” they chorused.

  :I am setting up a subroutine on healing. As you monitor you will be learning about threats to watch for.:

  “Threats?”

  :Ills that those you monitor may not be aware of, ranging from heart conditions to respiratory problems that you can adjust for while they are linked, supporting them in case of distress or stress… I can trust you with this knowledge, can I not?:

  “Of course, you can!”

  :I must stress that with this knowledge outside of the safety of this rapport, could prove lethal.:

  They looked at each other and swallowed. “You mean we could accidentally kill someone?”

  :I mean you could purposely kill someone.:

  Staff had their attention.

  :Learn… and you can save lives. But first you must monitor, heartbeat, respiration, and body temperature. Warn us if you note any problem…:

  Juels found herself standing in a cavern. The walls were covered in lichen that glowed. Stalagmites crisscrossed the space.

  :A safe place has been drawn from your memory,: stated Staff.

  She nodded, schooling her features.

  :I must admit to being curious as to the location and reason you feel this is such a place.:

  “I felt safe here once,” she replied. “It’s located not far from the city.”

  :The floor appears almost polished. It looks to have been well visited,: Staff said.

  “It was a popular place once but is mostly forgotten.”

  :I am noting wards are woven––––into the–––– struc–––– ture–––– of the––––sta––––lag––––mites.:

  She shrugged, looking a bit guilty, “Fancy that, there apparently are wards here.”

  A chair made out of stone rose from the cavern floor. Juels hopped on to it, sat down, and began to cry, muttering, “Aqwaine… Aqwaine…”

  The cavern “floor” began to pulsate with a small green light, which slowly expanded.

  Se’and saw day turn to night. In her hand she held Je’orj’s computer staff, which began to glow

  :Fascinating,: Staff said.

  “Why?”

  :You are holding me.:

  “So?”

  :Cle’or’s holding me, too… as I said, fascinating.:

  “Fine, why?”

  :Because I’m having this exact conversation with her, as well.:

  “This is the test, isn’t it?”

  :George, what do you think?:

  He appeared. “They’re linked somehow.”

  “We’re sisters, Je’orj.”

  “Where’s Fri’il?” he asked.

  “Upstairs,” they chorused, suddenly appearing together, each holding what looked like Staff. They stared at each other.

  Aaprin appeared. “Is this supposed to happen?”

  “No,” George replied. “It’s like their bonded psychically... bonded...” He blinked, “Se’and, when your father, uh, made me an honorary Cathartan Lord—”

  “You are a lord by bond, Je’orj,” she corrected.

  “Yeah, I understood that to mean that you were given to us.”

  Se’and glanced at Cle’or, who nodded and said, “We formed a Household. We pledged to keep you and Balfour safe and bear you many daughters.”

  “By his word, we married you.”

  “Um, yes, I understood from your perspective that to be the case, but I’m wondering if there might be another aspect to the bonding that has less to do with me th
an… uh, to the women of the House.”

  “Of course, we’re bound by the same Oath.”

  :George…:

  “A spell of some sort?”

  “A spell?” Se’and said. “Cathartans have no magery.”

  ‘They have mother shaman… De’ohr had presence.’

  “The, uh, bond… wouldn’t it link either you with Me’oh, too, or just, well, you to Fri’il, Se’and?”

  “Me’oh? She’s bound to Bal.”

  “Cle’or is, too, isn’t she?” George asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  Shaking her head, Cle’or looked suddenly shy. “I’ve been champion of your House, not Bal’s since Niota.”

  “What?”

  “We all nearly died in Niota… It was you I had to protect, Milord.”

  “My champion?”

  Se’and sighed, “He’s rather hard headed, Sestor.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “She is the champion of your House, Lord Highmage, not Balfour who has love in his heart only for Me’oh.”

  “I’ve enough women in my life,” he rasped.

  Cle’or shook her head, “You can never have enough women protecting your life, Je’orj, particularly now that you are Highmage. And don’t get me wrong, I love children… but motherhood? That I’ll leave to my Sisters, but you should consider my fosterlings as your children, too.”

  Se’and nodded, “Je’orj, we can’t help but love you. Bond or no.”

  Aaprin heard his master groan, but in no other way respond.

  ‘Well, there’s the psychic link… Aaprin, we will test its limits.’

  Chapter

  21

  Surrounded by a small detachment of Imperial Legionnaires, the carriage jostled a bit down the street. He glanced at the herald seated beside him uncertainly yet again. It wasn’t every day that a herald from the palace just came to a shop like his and gave him a commission… and such a commission.

  The carriage turned down the street to the row of embassies and provincial manors. Crowds were formed around a cordon of Imperial guards blocking the street. Herald Varian shook his head, “The new Highmage appears to be rather popular with… the humans among us.”

  Eyes wide, the man beside him muttered, “I’ve never seen so many dwarves outside their Quarter before.”

  “Do much business with them?” Varian asked as the legionnaires forced their way slowly through the crowds seeking to see the Highmage-designate.

  “Lord Je’orj! Lord Je’orj!” cries from the lower tiers could be clearly heard.

  “Everyone needs finery from time to time,” he replied.

  Far beneath the city in the center of the Aqwaine Empire, the ancient node strengthened and pulsed. Energy was flowing through ley lines from the north and points east that had long lay fallow. Presences, they were no words to describe them otherwise, had been woken and Aqwaine still.

  Old places were awakened. He Who Remembered walked the earth once more in counterpoint to the Demonlord who was bringing his schemes to fruition. The Old Hall had been keyed, Highmage Alrex’s passing keyed it further.

  “Aqwaine.”

  Its name echoed through the ether.

  “Aqwaine.”

  The energies swirled around the node in a pattern that began to resonate, to focus, and build.

  My, my, who do we have here?

  It is coming from that human mage’s working.

  Interesting.

  WHAT DOES HE THINK HE’S DOING?

  Now, Alrex, he’s your chosen, is he not?

  OH, DON’T BLAME THIS ONE ON ME…

  Blame, Alrex here’s thinking we’re not happy with him.

  Hey, did any of you see that?

  See what?

  I thought… no, it couldn’t be.

  Esperanza had deliberately stayed away from the Empress’s Scryer’s Hall. She trusted the Network in Lyai, the northern border, and now Rian, which recently, when pledged their wholehearted support for reasons they would not reveal. But what they shared from their sight gave the Empire a clear view of the battles being fought in the Crescent Lands, which had forced Fenn du Blain’s invading armies back to Trelor.

  It was enough for her to quietly scry events in the capital and report them to her husband and…

  “Milady.”

  She looked up from the bowl of still water, “Hello, Terhun, a personal visit? I’m honored. Don’t tell me you couldn’t wait for my regular report?”

  “Milady, the Empress just got a briefing from the Mistress of Scryers… I need to double check something she reported.”

  “What?”

  “They glimpsed a cloaked meeting… Someone’s orchestrating an assassination of Lord Je’orj.”

  “Give me all the details she presented and I’ll see what I can verify.”

  Terhun shook his head. “You misunderstand. Someone planning to attack Je’orj, that’s comes as no surprise. I need you as someone I trust implicitly to double check something else about the report...”

  The wooden gate looked like it had taken a beating. It had to be untied on one side and the dwarves guarding the estate had to drag it out of the way to all the legionnaires and the carriage access.

  Herald Varian stepped down first as his companion hesitated. The axes the dwarves carried looked rather sharp. And all the dwarves seemed to be staring at his as he held his work bag close.

  “Varian,” the dwarf bard said with a welcome smile, “what brings you out of the palace today?”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Spiro. Her Majesty has sent me with a message for Lord Je’orj and a gift.”

  “He’s not available at the moment.”

  “I’m happy to wait.”

  “We don’t know how long he’ll be. But you are welcome to wait inside.”

  The legionnaires had dismounted their warhorses. Je’orj’s mount didn’t seem constrained by the corral behind the house. The dwarves had gotten use to that. The old legionnaire sergeant in charge of the detachment, however, appeared a bit startled. The mare was much bigger than any of their warhorses.

  The steed nickered.

  “By the Empress,” he muttered as his charges entered the house.

  Tett walked up to him. “You can water your mounts around back.”

  “Uh, thank you… but whose mount is that?”

  “Oh,” Tett replied, “she’s a, uh, spirited one. She’s Lord Je’orj’s mount. Her siblings are Lady Se’and’s and Lady Fri’il.”

  “Her siblings?” the sergeant rasped, then coughed. “A real beauty.”

  The mare nickered in reply as the sergeant and his fellows walked their warhorses past her.

  The elfblooded sergeant whispered as he walked past, “Milady.”

  The mare turned and followed him.

  Terhun sat quietly watching the Lady Esperanza using her gift. Her husband entered, “I heard you were here.”

  “Shh.”

  Lee canted his head, saw her fingers dripped what appeared to be sweat into her scrying bowl. “She can’t hear you at the moment.”

  “What?”

  “That’s a bit of the gift from the talisman she lending to her conjuring. When it shattered, it imbued her and the Lady Amira with its nature. Once she committed herself that fully, the house could be coming down around us and she wouldn’t notice.”

  “So that’s why she told me I had to stay until you came.”

  “She and I agreed she’d never do that while alone… it’s too dangerous for her. So, my old friend, what have you asked her to do?”

  “The Mistress of Scryers has reported the Guild’s found evidence that someone is plotting to kill Je’orj. They’re apparently slipping in assassins.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “My agents have reported something odd about those they’re following, which has been enough that Her Majesty has forestalled in sending the Imperial guards to capture or kill them before they can complete the
ir schemes.”

  “Odd?”

  “They all seem to be… women.”

  Esperanza was lost in vision. Ships were docking at the river wharves outside the Seventh Tier wall. They disembarked scores of figures wearing long black robes, carrying packs, many of which were long enough to conceal bows and swords. The harbor master ignored them, none of his people searched them.

  It was clear that bribes had been paid by the way everyone studiously ignored those disembarking and those already making their way toward the Harbor Gate. A black robed figure awaited them at the gate and led them to the old Temple of Unity.

  She suddenly sensed she wasn’t alone in scrying. You have not been for a while, my dear.

  :You.:

  Well, you are my chosen avatar, young lady.

  :What do you want?:

  Want? Essentially what you want… protect the world from that creature that once was our Elfking.

  :Which means?:

  Telling you to ignore those newcomers… They mean the Empire no harm and

  will likely come in handy soon.

  :They’re armed.:

  Many of them and quite capable with them.

  :Who are they?:

  Je’orj’s problem to deal with… So, change your focus and peer at the Scrying Guild which seems bent on distracting Her Majesty’s forces.

  :The Guild? Somehow I think spying on them will get me attention I don’t want.:

  Esperanza, I’m not all powerful. Wards can impede me. However, your enhanced gift combined with mine will lend you the ability at this distance to see into the Guild.

  :If this gets me killed, Lee will murder me.:

  Focus, child.

  The herald paced. “Spiro, Her Majesty’s message can’t wait much longer. It’s getting late.”

  “Well, none of us can interrupt them. Though, we didn’t expect their meeting to run this late.”

  Fri’il frowned, “Well, somehow… I think… I might be able to.”

  “Please give it a try, Milady.”

  She handed her daughter to Balfour as Me’oh said, “Fri’il, are you sure about this?”

  “I can’t explain it, but… I feel them and I think they can feel me.” She went up to the study door and pushed. It wouldn’t budge nor had she expected it to. But something ethereal did. “Je’orj, can you hear me? Se’and! Cle’or!”